Coop's Corner: First Helix ride in '12

Sunday, April 1, 2012

First Helix ride in '12

The Helix was the last machine in the garage to be readied for the new riding season. The new front tire was installed, new drive belt, new air cleaner and new battery completed the work. Since I was waiting for the weekend and some reasonable weather, today (4/1) was my first chance to go for a ride. We had 44 degrees and heavy, fog-laden air early this morning around the time that I'd have preferred to start riding. Since the weather was less than ideal, I decided that I'd head down to Alma for breakfast and arrive about 9:30. That meant a departure time of around 8:45.

Lake Pepin, Minnesota side......

Once I had my riding gear on, the Helix was rolled outside and it started instantly and settled down into a smooth idle. Using US 61 down to Wabasha, I then crossed the Mississippi River into Nelson, then headed south to Alma. It never really rained, but there were a few drops of accumulated moist air on the windshield by the time I arrived at Pier4. Normally arriving earlier, today I found a busy and full restaurant. Tables inside were busy, so even though the waitress reminded me that the thermometer above my table reported 46 degrees, I sat down at my pick of tables. The fog had left some moisture on the table, so everything was very 'fresh'.

The coffee and food were hot, steamy and went down very quickly. After one of my quicker Alma breakfasts, I suited up again and headed into the hills, pointed away from the river. It had been awhile since I'd ridden the length of Buffalo Co. "U" (normally seem to only cross it), so I stuck with it until I got to "X", then turned onto the gravel Schneider Road. There was a lot more rutting than gravel, so I had to watch what I was doing; the long wheelbase Helix felt like it was Crabsteering half of the time.

From there, back onto my favorite section of County "Q", a shortcut down to #121 and north on Independence Road, another short but scenic favorite. The sky was just beginning to show some blue spots and the bright patches of green were shifting quickly in the valley's beyond.

County "BB"......

On "Coddie Klink", another one of the region's very creatively named roads.....

Stopped in Whitehall for a sandwich, then wound my way down "D" and "T", stopping in Arcadia for a break. I didn't even have my helmet off yet when I saw a bunch of headlights approaching, one of the bikes (rider and machine unrecognized by me) came over and pulled up right next to me. Brent, an old friend was leading a group of riders and they were stopping for a lunch break. The group had split into two groups of 5 with 3 of the 10 old friends of mine. Some stories were shared over the convenience store food at the outside picnic table before the groups continued on with their rides. Good to see you Brent, Deb and Ray!

Leaving Arcadia, I decided to avoid #95 up the hill to the west (I didn't really need 130+ hp sportbikes coming up from behind), taking the parallel, switchback'd Ziegeweid Valley Road, then used Canada Ridge and Waumandee Creek Road to get back out to #35. A stop in Nelson for a Raspberry Truffle cone and then home. A nice 210, casual days' ride.

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"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)