Coop's Corner

Wednesday, September 6, 2023

Wildcat Mountain Motorcycle Rally - 2023/09/04

Seems impossible but Labor Day 2023 has come and gone, our celebrated end of summer opening the door to early autumn. Thirty plus years of a motorcycle gathering with attendance that has ebbed and flowed, this year marked my 16th edition...another "seems impossible". Rallies that I've attended have been marked with cooler temps, rain in small or larger amounts but this year was as hot and dry as any that I've been lucky enough to participate in.

There were housing challenges, new variations in how we all found a place to bed down at night. An even greater challenge was in finding a new location (and food) for our Sunday night banquet. Many thanks to Susie, Jill, Adam and their assistants that made it so easy for the rest of us to have our enjoyable fun. There were after hour suggestions about where and how to hold next year's rally. My vote is to repeat everything, such as it was, next year.....but we'll see what happens. As long as I can make another reservation in January for September, I'll be 8 months happy.

I decided to ride the Royal Enfield Bullet 500 Stealth down, I even almost polished it before the trip! My open face helmet and Cousin Jeremy jacket had been planned but I changed my mind with all of the mid-90 degree temps predicted. The mesh jacket made my rides comfortable in all but the late afternoon sunshine.

There's a lot here, I know. Feel free to go grab a cup and come back for another sitting!

Stopped for a break in LaCrescent, MN

Arrival in Westby, WI at the Norske Inn

Here's the Track map that I culled from the GPS, 5 days of riding came out to 696 miles in total.

The elevation changes on Friday's Green Track above...

Early Friday morning...

Tom had arrived late Thursday evening...

Eric was there in time for breakfast Friday

Kevin arrived Thursday just after I did....

Jeff came down Thursday evening, stayed in the campground instead but was happy to meet us at Borgen's.

Note the Pie reminder.....

We made our scenic and indirect way to Grandad's Bluff for an overlook of LaCrosse

After our stop at Grandad's Bluff, we penetrated the construction traffic in downtown LaCrosse, making our way through the throngs of tourists visiting the LST 325 that was docked in the city's Riverside Park.

We got lucky and found a convenient enough parking spot in the Public Ramp.

Normally docked on the Ohio River, Evansville, Indiana. https://www.lstmemorial.org/

The tour's waiting line was long and wrapped along the sidewalks....

We took the non-direct route back to Westby....

Mike's 450 Ducati and Mark's 305 Super Hawk Honda....Oldsters for the Oldsters and of course I say these things with the utmost respect.

Mark won the Smallest Bike Trophy (again). It mayjust be my turn to win the Smallest Bike Trophy (again) next year.

Mike's W650 well equipped....what do you think Steve? They're showing up everywhere!

Phil invited us out to the campground for Brats and Potato Salad ....Apple Pie too. The last time I had Potato Salad this good was in the Carousel at Road America!

Norwegian gifts?.....

Greg's brilliant XS650.....these Yamaha's the reason the Wildcat Rally got its start

Saturday morning.....early

Busy at Borgen's...

Richard was back...

Waiting for the Rider's Meeting....

Wheels....many wheels....

A hundred years ago, maybe 120 or so, rural driveways all could have looked like this.

I realized that Oakdale was not far away....Laughing Larry's had to be my lunch stop!

Place mat.....

Mostly famous Larry's....

Larry got this Patty Melt about perfect...

My only gravel road for the weekend...

'Been awhile since Mike''s 450 Ducati saw this much sunshine...

Mighty Mouse was not a fan of the heat, not one bit!

Mark's wonderful 305 Super Hawk....

Lined up at Borgen's for our last Rally Breakfast...

Dropping right down into Coon Valley....

We were first in line at the Rockton Chicken "Q"

Smoky, smoky......

Sunday afternoon break in Stoddard....shade across the street at the Legion Hall

Mike's Ducati and Bug Fen preparing for their trip home.... (Bug Fen's Story)

Everyone packing up Monday morning...

The guys followed me to the Cashton Produce Auction....going to be another cloudless, hot September day.

Dog walkers....I noticed the Corgi right away

Up on to County Road D, one of my very favorite stretches of road anywhere!

Our arrival at the Sales Barn....parking lots full by the time we left with buyers and tourists still arriving

Of course it's a Breakfast Brat....

Stopped near but not under some golden arches in Onalaska.....

Getting hot at my gas and water stop, Fountain City

It was another great weekend, a perfect way to spend a Labor Day Wildcat on special roads with special friends. Will be tough to make the rally any better.

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)