Coop's Corner: Sport Touring Revisited

Saturday, August 22, 2015

Sport Touring Revisited - Counterclockwise

It seemed like the perfect forecast, I was in the right mood, the timing wouldn't get any better. My Sport Touring Route that I hoped to visit again this season was the one I followed today, only I used the "Invert Route" command and for the most part, I stuck with the path I followed a couple of weeks ago though instead of a mostly clockwise loop, this time it went the other way around.

After a half mile of gravel, our brandy new paved County road at 6AM....

6:15AM overlooking the lower end of Lake Pepin....

Crossing the river and into Wisconsin.....

The big bike this time.....

A rest stop along the Chippewa River, Tyrone Canoe Landing, the Chippewa Valley Trail bridge below.

I rousted 4 pair of Sand Hill Cranes today, but these stuck around long enough to be documented.

Elk Mound flagpole just to the right of the "45" sign.....

After stopping in Colfax to mail a parcel that I had carried along, I took County W north...

810th St., my first time here......lots of loose, not very much gravel.

A 2nd visit to 1090th, as much fun as the first time I'd been here.....

I've no idea who Vince is......but now I wish I knew him.

These road transitions are the ones a rider needs to watch out for......

Not sure what it was, but something really hit my leg and I had to look down to see if anything had been left behind.

Yes, Wisconsin does some sand mining.......

I needed gas, decided that since I wasn't looking for overnight Sport Touring lodging that going as far north as Rice Lake was not necessary. A gas and lunch stop in Chetek instead.

This Tracker is still trackin'.......today for now but tomorrow too??

From Chetek, it was back towards Hillsdale, the Coop family's old stomping grounds.

I visited more than one of the old rail/road crossings of "The Blueberry Line" here just outside of town. This line intersected the Cattail Trail railroad line that I rode a couple of weeks ago.

Looking north.....a much busier place on a cold snowmobiling weekend.

We rode our trailbikes on this trail, snowmobiled it and took the dogs for walks here. Long ago the Town Dump was just off this old right of way and was our early McMaster source for Gramp's tinkering projects. Washing machines, clocks, wheels, things that moved, whirled or spun of every description. I can even remember part of an old mini-bike. A pair of slip joint pliers and a screwdriver or two in a pocket was about all it took to bring treasure home.

As I zig-zagged around the Hillsdale area, the afternoon skies, no real bright sunshine until I was just a few miles from home by early evening.

Just south of town, there's a popular place that hosts weddings and their receptions. The Enchanted Barn appears to be worthy of both.

What the access road out to the highway looks like now.......

....and what it looked like in the early '40's when Gramp was hauling Rural Mail.

For the most part, I stayed loyal to backtracking my way back home, mimicking my trip up on the CT90 a couple of weeks ago.

Crossing the river bridge back into Minnesota......Red Wing's riverfront and boat harbor (American Queen had been here last weekend).

Barn Bluff on the downriver side.....

Home and up the driveway.....

The Route......

The numbers.....Moving Average not all that different than the Original Sport Tour.

6 comments:

redlegsridesAugust 22, 2015 at 5:47 PM
that's quite the ride you did!
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VStar LadyAugust 22, 2015 at 7:23 PM
The road has definitely changed since the 40's ... but something tells me you would have loved riding that muck just as much (even more) as the black top.
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Dar August 23, 2015 at 2:23 AM
Wow Coop that was quite the ride! Weather looked decent, i actually prefer cloudy to sunny. The road appears better than it did in the 40's. Nice pics!
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)