Ride Diary, We Don't Give a Hoot VI, Lebanon, NH

The tale of the trip to the annual gathering of Vifferfolk at Lebanon, NH, "We Don't Give a Hoot," an irreverent version of the Honda Hoot. And what a wonderful weekend it was. And a warm one too! I had to get back to DC to cool off. No joke.

Steve, Herb, Rich and I (95 VFRs all, except for Herb's 99) met up just north of DC for a long looping route to WDGAH HQ in Lebanon, NH. The intention was to give all the major and minor metroplexes a wide berth and hit a bit of the Catskills and Adirondacks. The trip through the Baltimore harbor tunnel and up 95 was uneventful, until Steve's bike died of electrical system collapse at the off ramp to Maryland 155. See separate tale of woe. It was just as we were getting to the good stuff, too, but despite a successful bump start Steve decided he didn't have enough confidence in his bike to continue and he headed for home.

The trip along the Susquehanna in Maryland was a nice romp and we headed into Pa., to meet up with Bill Speg, (on another 95) who rode up from Delaware. We headed through Amish country on the back roads (watch out for those slippery "muffins" in the road) and broke for lunch near Schuylkill Haven. We decided to ride to Jim Thorpe and head up to I-80 for bit, then followed PA402 north to I-84. 402 was a splendid route mostly through a state forest and I recommend it.

And then on to Port Jervis and New York route 97, a twisty-sweeping road following the Delaware River. Part of the road right outside of Port Jervis hugs a cliff and reminds me of the tight seaside roads in Italy. Aside from a couple of slow-moving cages the road was wide open and we made the most of it. The group made it to Smith's Colonial Motel in Hancock, NY for the night, ate at the local Italian eatery and bedded down after spending most of the day's 380 miles on the back roads.

The next morning was cool and foggy and we saddled up for the trip into Hancock and breakfast at a diner. But not until I had to go through starter clutch slippage syndrome that cold weather seems to bring out. Back on the road at 8:15 we headed east on NY17 for bit, when picked up NY30, which follows a reservoir and a nice collection of nearly continuous 40-60 mph sweepers that lasts for about 20 miles. 30 took us all the way to the Adirondacks and at Northville, we veered off to follow a couple of (not so well marked) county roads that hug Great Sacandaga Lake. The weekend cottages seemed to be deserted, so I set a slightly spirited pace through here. After lunch, more lake following, Lake George this time. The pace was a bit slow, but the gorgeous lake and mountain views were adequate compensation. At Lake George, people had scores of lawn chairs set up facing the street. Just to see us roll by on some of Hamamatsu's finest products, I thought. It turned out to be some sort of hot rod convention in town.

We ended up in Ticonderoga and took a short cruise across Lake Champlain on the ferry. Some very friendly tourists from Rhode Island snapped our photo and we got a short, but informative, geography lesson from the fare collector. Herb split off to spend the weekend with his sister, while the rest of the party ventured on. Vermont seemed all but deserted as we followed VT73 through the Green Mountains to VT 100 to VT107. Encountering the frost heaves on these roads made me thankful to have a Fox shock on the bike now, especially with the heavy Givi setup I run. A short hop on the highway and we were at the Fireside Inn. No bikes were in evidence in the segregated parking lot marked "VFR BIKE PARKING" on enormous signs. I see we're expected and in the right place.

Rich, Bill and I unloaded the bikes, settled into the room for a bit, then headed to the cookout at Bryan Roth's. After swapping tall tales, comparing various farkles and paint jobs, as well as putting faces with a few names, we headed back to the hotel and a few rounds of drinks at the Seven Barrels.

Herb, Bill and Rich were excellent and good natured traveling companions, but I sensed a little annoyance at my navigating skills as I made a wrong turn and took off on a lengthy (but scenic!) detour at Great Sacandaga Lake. :) Sorry guys.

Our crew set the alarms for 0630 and turned in. We didn't want to miss the group photo and general tire-kicking session in the morning before everyone hit the road. Bill, Rich and I decided to do a modified Loop 1, as laid out by the Routemeister Dave Thompson, since it wandered through a good bit of New Hampshire, a place new to me on two wheels. Vermont is a little more familiar, so it was east and north of WDGAH HQ for us.

It was a bit nippy in the morning, but the forecasts called for temperatures up near 90 by afternoon. You can't ask for much better than this. Perfect weather and all day to play in the mountains. I was pretty comfortable in perfed leathers with just a single thin layer underneath. I do use bicycle arm warmers in the morning; you can pull them off without taking off your jacket. Just yank on the sleeves and pull them out when it warms up. We were on the road by 9, but the early birds were long gone. After two early starts on Thursday and Friday it was nice to relax a little. This is supposed to be a vacation after all, not an Iron Butt-style death march!

We headed east on I-89 and picked up US4. Things really didn't get interesting until past the town of Plymouth where the traffic really thinned out and we could run and gun through the twisties on route 113. The mountain views and picture postcard towns seemed to get better and better. Conway was sort of a traffic jam, but we followed the Routemeister's directions onto the back roads and skirted most of the traffic mayhem of Conway and North Conway. Back on US302 we caught some views of the Presidential Range. While Mt. Mitchell in North Carolina may be higher in numerical terms, the White Mountains are, to me, much more impressive.

A lunch stop in the town of Bartlett was in order before beginning the assault on Bear Notch Rd. and the Kancamagus Hwy. Bartlett has a little general store with a deli. Then my railfan ears pricked up with the distinctive sound of a diesel horn. The Conway Scenic Railroad was shuffling cars around in a siding at the edge of town. Conway Scenic offers trips up to Crawford Notch and I made a mental note that it's something to do with my wife when we come to this part of the world.

We proceeded up Bear Notch Rd. from Bartlett. The pavement is a bit rough, but the Fox shock handled it pretty well, even when keeled over at a good angle. The Kancamagus (Rt. 112) was up next. Remarkably there was little traffic and we were able to negotiate it at a good pace and I only needed one double-yellow pass to keep up the momentum. Past Lincoln, 112 comes to another mountain pass and then we made a loop through up route 118. Bill was in the lead at a pretty good clip when a state trooper suddenly appeared in the middle of the road doing a three-point turn with the blue lights a-blazing. [gulp] I reach for a big handful of brake lever. Luckily he was more interested in the Ford Exploder going the other way than the three motorcycles moving at nearly double the legal limit. It was our only brush with Johnny Law for the entire trip. Back road speed limits seem very low in New Hampshire, 35-40 mph, even outside settlements.

After finishing up most of the loop, our group split up to do some sight-seeing on our own. I went around to some of the little towns, including Hanover (the home of Dartmouth College), Lebanon and White River Jct., Vermont. WRJ was having a railroad festival, as luck would have it, so more scratching of the railfan itch. I also picked up some local souvenirs to be redeemed for future kitchen passes.

Back to the hotel for more tire-kicking and general BSing while we waited for the stalwarts to return and then the less than pedestrian friendly trip to groaning tables of Lui Lui's and much merriment. I haven't seen that many spitballs flying since the 7th grade.

Sunday morning came a bit early, but Rich and I wanted to be on the road by eight for the 10-hour ride ahead of us. We said our goodbyes, I talked to Lou and Nate about going on Iron Butt Association rides, and we saddled up and hit the road, slabbing it home across VT, MA, CT, NY, NJ, PA, MD, about 575 miles. It's probably the quickest way, but it wasn't quite as enjoyable, unlike our twisty two-day ride getting to New Hampshire, especially as we got close to New York. On our way south, once we got to Massachusetts the traffic was unrelenting and our pace slowed. Adding to my woes was a dropping charging voltage, as I said in another post this morning. But the bike and I made it home. I think she needs some TLC, a run through the charging system diagnostics and probably a new R/R.

The trip was mostly uneventful and Rich was good company. We made a few stops to take a break. Somehow I get an uncontrollable urge for ice cream on these trips which must be satisfied. It was hot in New Jersey and Pa., but oddly it seemed to get cooler in Maryland. I was glad to see Maryland; Pennsylvania has really crummy interstate highways.