Coop's Corner: Wildcat Mountain (gathering) 2020

Monday, September 7, 2020

Wildcat Mountain (gathering) 2020

It wasn't an official one but the Faithful did their best to attend or at the very least, stop by. If there was a way to count those that did, I don't know of it. Our little group was barely around enough to be included in a group count. It didn't help in the least that our normal gathering/breakfast place has closed their restaurant, one more happening that helped the scatter. When I did stop at the Old Towne Inn, there were lots of familiar faces and I had a chance to at least say hello to a few of them and later found out that I missed some, thinking that I'd have another opportunity to meet before Monday morning.

Weather and riding was outstanding, only a few drops just before I got home. Early Sunday looked very threatening but none of it caught us directly though we rode lots of gravel that had obviously been saturated.

Before I get too far with (gathering) details, I need to lead off here with the generous and thoughtful gift from Pat. Somehow he'd been made aware of my KLR Drive System dilemma and wanted to contribute not only advice but a sample of a proper driven sprocket. No longer needed for his Hayabusa, his hope was that I'd know more by seeing more, you know, to catch on. I was told that the black ones aren't absolutely required though are preferred, something I'll definitely keep in mind the next time I'm sourcing. Now hanging next to my Traveling Trophy, it will take a permanent spot in that Trophy's place once we can return to our normal Wildcat Mountain Rally schedule and the Traveling plaque can go to the next lucky winner.

Pat started, "See these pointy bumps around the outside? They're not only desirable but necessary."

I'll absolutely heed Pat's advice for he's a professional. I'm determined to never be missing my bumps with points again; a thorough look now a permanent part of my extensive pre-ride inspections!

OK, now that I'm smarter, the fun stuff. Mike found these patches and why we all were so anxious to be at Wildcat this year, hopefully for some semblance of normal.

My mileage for the weekend....my brother had over 1000 since he came from north of Minneapolis.

Here's how we accomplished this wonderful feat!

Red, my To.....Cyan, From Westby, Wisconsin

Friday's ride, participants Eric and Cindy in the sidecar, Kevin on his KLR and I was on the Himalayan. Pavement the plan, no more than 5% gravel.

Saturday's ride, participants a repeat of Friday's group

Sunday's ride, as gravel intensive as I could make it. Eric was solo, not with the sidecar but rather his XR650L Honda. Eric's friend Tony came on his DR650 making us a nice group of 4 machines. This part of Wisconsin is relatively gravel-free; most roads paved and many narrow. I put forth some effort using the State's bicycle maps to string as much gravel together as possible, a successful Route (Track actually) this time.

Monday, Labor Day morning at the motel in Westby. Our Ducati and Yamaha neighbors from Chicago has spent Saturday night at the motel as well. Up to visit the Driftless Region, they'd done their homework and were seeking out some of the highlights, both Wisconsin and Minnesota which is what they did Sunday. Sunday night they were back in Westby and I'll assume returning home to Chicago Monday.

Mike's got this one set up; he and Colleen not only rode down from Mpls but did a lot of exploring too.

We rode down to Viroqua for breakfast Monday morning since the diners in Westby were closed for the holiday. After breakfast, Kevin followed Mike and Colleen, the long way, back to the Twin Cities. I wanted to return once again to the Growers Produce Auction so I left Viroqua after wishing the others a safe journey home. The auction site southeast of Cashton was a very busy place this morning.

It's enough to make a meat lover go Veg....

Leaving the Sales Barn, I took a route that I hadn't done for a long time. Up through Sparta, west to Mindoro and Stevenstown, Trempealeau for lunch. I had planned to take some more side trips but the pending <60 degree rain streamlined my ride home.

As close as I'll get to Maritime in 2020....

I wonder....this must be the same windmill guy that used to live just north of Mindoro? Now he's along Cty T?

Lunch time in Trempealeau.....

This is all I've got for now, the end of our Labor Day weekend, my Labor Day-end of Wildcat Mountain Rally. Lots more to share but I'm going to be working up in northern Minnesota this week and won't get back to the blog until end of week.

2 comments:

motormikeSeptember 7, 2020 at 8:49 PM
It was a great weekend... lunch with the NUN's ! .... who knew. I got oatmeal soap from the Amish.. does that make me a Quaker ? I was surprised at the large group of the usual suspects that did make the scene. Speedy and I enjoyed the weekend... and look forward to next year. :)
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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)