Coop's Corner: June 2017

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Minnesota Moto Guzzi Rally - 2017

I have to believe that we've made quota on "wet and cool" rallies at this point. Those of us present at the GR3 BMW gathering just over a month ago have grown confident that our "spring weather" rally experiences this season were over but this past weekend up in Grand Marais, MN directly on the shores of Lake Superior got another chance to enjoy spring weather. That's often true with conditions along the big lake....you've got to be ready for the Big Water to dictate the local climate.

Friday was more than pleasant, cool, sunny though quite windy which when it comes right down to it, makes pretty decent riding weather.

Palisade Head just outside of Illgen City ...

Our rally site is the Grand Marais City Park, located directly on the lake's bay.

I hadn't stopped for lunch on the way up, was hungry and decided to return to the Blue Water Cafe, a place I'd been before. The young women on the wait staff might almost be an International Studies Program; overheard were accents and "where-are-you-froms" from across the world. I was listening but what became a higher priority for me was the Raspberry Rhubarb Pie listing on the menu board. Friday afternoon I was too full after my fish and chips. Saturday evening Mike and I returned, both too full but returned nonetheless, the Raspberry Rhubarb our focus but we had waited too long. Not only was our reason for going gone, the establishment was down to 2 slices of blueberry and a couple slices of pecan, very bare rations. We reduced their "on hand" even further.

The wind was brisk....

The pavilion to the right of the beach across the bay is Rally Central.

My plan was to get an afternoon ride in, so I left town on the Gunflint Trail, covering only just a few miles of it before veering off to the east. Towns are not highlighted on this GPS map, Grand Marais is to the lower left, where my GPS Track initially winds north away from Lake Superior.

Just a mile or so out of Grand Marais, the Gunflint climbs away from the lake, the view from a Rest Stop there very grand.

Along that road, in English.....

....and Other......

Much less traffic than out along the lake on Hwy 61......

It seemed only fair.....now both of my Italian V-Twins have visited the Hovland Dock.

A few years ago I happened to stumble upon Andrew's fascinating website devoted to MN Hiway history, abandonment's, etc. It was then that I found out about "Old 61" and where in time not all that long ago, driving into Ontario across the Pigeon River didn't happen where it currently does. He tells the story much better than I and supports it with some very interesting documentation.

You may remember (and then again you may not) that last year I made the attempt to eventually work my way up there on TranZalp and got all twisted around on roads far too rough for the old '83 Honda Ascot.

Note on the map above how I returned back out to Hwy 61, road conditions that were well within the means of my much newer '04 Breva.

Pavement from the '50's, white stripes and fog lines still faintly visible.

On two successive Halloween weekends back in the late '70's, I hiked the Grand Portage, making my way up to the site of Fort Charlotte, the Pigeon River and the border. This was where I crossed the paved road and I can remember being surprised at the paved road crossing though I don't remember that there was all this signage at that time.

Once a very busy place....footings, pavement and concrete still evident....

Our beloved neighbor to the north......

This one never has been paved.....

I made a quick loop through the town of Grand Portage itself, stopped at the reservation's Trading Post for a coffee, fully intending to return on Saturday to visit the National Monument Visitor Center but the cool rain most of the day kept me off the bike completely. I didn't take the time to stop Friday afternoon because it was getting to be time to head back to Grand Marais for our rally pulled-pork meal.

After the meal, I needed some exercise and decided to make the easy walk downtown.

You just don't see a campfire in front of any old Dairy Queen.....

Early Saturday we walked downtown to the South Of The Border Cafe for breakfast. Later, a group of us went again, the weather being what it was. It really didn't stop raining, drizzling or blowing fog in off from the lake all day.

Mid morning we made a loop through the Farmer's Market, Mike bought some Rhubarb Jam after a tasting. This wasn't the watered down stuff with strawberries, this was rhubarb!

I bought two for a couple of rhubarb aficionados that I know.....

I suggested some library time, a warm and dry place.....with wi/fi. Once inside, I went straight for the "Local" section and found some very interesting info on one of the region's oldest businesses.

All day long everyone was asking about the radar and predicted conditions. It didn't matter what time of day I looked, it never really changed all day.

Normally a seasoned weather watcher such as myself would observe this radar image and boldly predict that things were passing through. That black base of the teardrop appeared to be this storm's core about which it revolved. We saw the same clouds over and over again all day long.

Peg lets me play with these people each weekend because of their strong positive influence.

Many thanks to our cooks, Lynne and Kevin, to Louise and John for their tireless efforts and to the attendees that continue to make this one so much fun.

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)