Coop's Corner: A Wet and Cool 2017 GR3

Sunday, May 21, 2017

A Wet and Cool 2017 GR3

GR3 = Great River Road Rally in Soldiers Grove, Wisconsin.

Hosted by the Madison BMW Club and the Soldiers Grove Lions Club in the same lovely setting, Kickapoo River nearby in the Beauford T Anderson Park. The 'Grove's proximity to the often raging Kickapoo over time has led a great deal of flooding, flooding to the extent that much of the former business district was moved and once those flood waters receded, there was more than one kind of "Green" that occurred. The Solar Village was a large part of the relocation/rebuild process.
What I can tell you with great certainty is that we motorcyclists really enjoy the park's facilities and the very warm welcome that we receive from the town's residents.

Those of us that MADE the rally weren't all that surprised by those that did NOT....The forecast had been dismal; rainy and very cool. There were many reminders that not all that long ago, that very valley on Rally Weekend saw a frosty morning (I was in Lincoln, NE with daughter Hanna) that managed to test the gear and sleeping arrangements of the riders. This year's conditions definitely kept attendance down from near or around 300 last year to this year's reported 155. Odds were much better for the door prize give away and in our little group of 3 there were 2 winners.

Honestly, without a real detailed arrival plan, Eric and I managed to arrive late Friday morning within minutes of each other. Too early for registration, we setup in the misty rain before conditions worsened. My 135 mile trip down along the river was blustery; the last 50 miles wet. Once tents were up, we were off to seek out some gravel, which we found in nice abundance.

Our weekend's wet conditions were not the start of moisture in the region; it was obvious everywhere we went that big, fast rains had left a lot of devastation around. We lost count of the driveway slabs across small streams as well as dry ditches that were destroyed or rendered impassable. Along the great-riding Tainter valley we found a slab so beat up that the road had a big sign stating "Closed" and of course we needed to see why.

Beyond that grassy knoll over to the right, others, not unlike us, were curious about a crossing too. We were in possession of the technology, so we used it. As Dave says, "Onward and forward".

It was Garage Sale/Flea Market Mania along the river towns and normally quiet roads were busy with shoppers so we had to have a care. We found a quiet spot to take a break here.....

A big counter-clockwise loop and the large 6 gallon tank capacity on the KLR had me complacent about a fueling stop. Suddenly at around the 275 mile mark, I was in need of Reserve for the very first time since I've owned the bike. I flipped the lever one way and that wasn't the right way. Quickly rotating the lever the other way, the engine caught again and we managed a fuel stop in Ferryville. We both filled up but I began to have trouble. All morning I'd been making nice smooth shifts and suddenly I was struggling to match speeds for gear changes, something I take pretty seriously. Pulling the clutch in, I found out why. With an idle speed of 3000 RPM, smooth shifts had become a problem. Down hill compression breaking was completely gone, causing Eric to wonder why I'd suddenly started to use my brakes on every downhill section and we had a lot of them to go down before we got back to Rally Central.

We made it back to Soldiers Grove but none of my quick fixes were working. Gas was running out the overflow tube. Draining the bowl, rapping it gently with the butt of an adjustable wrench nor will power were able to stop the flow of gasoline.

So I parked the bike and it never ran again all weekend. Saturday's weather made that option only a tiny bit more palatable but it definitely was not what we'd planned for the weekend. Sometimes that's just how really good plans can go.

There were a lot of things to discuss with the group as there always is.

Ready for action.....

Resting.....

Saturday morning early my brother arrived on his KLR that ran and still does....

I wasn't patient enough to wait for the butterflies to emerge....

John kicking his rig through a couple of times to give the push button option a head start. Shortly after 11, John, the teepee and the last 2 other bikes were gone.

By 11:30 it was only the KLR (sort of) still standing. Bill from the Lions came over and while he hooked on to the trailer with the provided free firewood, we had a nice chat. Shortly thereafter, my lovely and patient bride arrived with the trailer. She may very well have taken the bike and left me there but I think she was ready to sit in the other seat and close her eyes for the trip back to Minnesota.

In two short weeks, many if not most of these riders and hopefully many other like-minded folks will gather once again across the river for a Minnesota version at the Hiawatha Rally.

I'll be there.

8 comments:

SonjaMMay 22, 2017 at 1:54 PM
The conditions look nasty indeed. But isn't there a saying: there is no bad weather, only the wrong kind of motorcycle...
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redlegsridesMay 22, 2017 at 3:36 PM
That's a relatively large number of those big moto tents...
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motormikeMay 22, 2017 at 6:17 PM
Peg for sainthood.. :)
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TrobairitzMay 23, 2017 at 3:57 PM
Peg to the rescue. Bummer the bike went kaput, but at least you were among friends to wait it out.
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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)