"You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is completely different from any other. In a car you're always in a compartment and because you're used to it you don't realize that through the car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame. On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all- you're IN the scene, not just watching it anymore and the sense of presence is overwhelming" Robert Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
When standing on the edge between the end of one way of life and the beginning of another- one could take time to sit- embrace a brief period of quiet reflection, some time alone to say goodbye to old things and make a plan for the future...or you could hop on a bike and go for a ride- destination is of little concern. My only absolute- I had to get to the new job by 8 am Tuesday. 8:15 at the latest.
Friday morning I threw a versatile set of clothes- pants, shorts, a bathing suit and a sweater in a bag and off we went. All would be revealed and it was- heading for- New Hampshire. This is not my typical trip, usually there are plans, reservations- an almanac for the area with the weather reports for the last 50 years.. you know- minimal preparation. Me on a holiday weekend without so much as a flight plan or a map was way out of character, in a really good way. In the packing of a motorcycle for a trip like this with two people and two teensy saddle bags- essentials count- So why did we need 4 jackets and 2 sets of rain gear- in 70 degree weather? All this became crystal clear pretty early on.
We travelled through the usual route: the Major Deegan (yuck) The Bruckner (ew) and The GW Bridge (woo hoo) on the way up- truck stops and Red Bull and Doritos eaten on the fly as we tried to make it to New Hampshire before it got too late. Michael's luck with weather- (storms avoid him, I think in a former life he was a desert) didn't hold and just outside the entrance to New Hampshire we hit... not rain so much as an experience I can only describe as what it might be like to sit in front of a cloud that has a nasty tendency to spit. We stopped at a little gas station and Michael donned his slick looking all-black Harley rain gear- he looked ready for action. As I don't have my own rain gear I was swathed in what felt like biker hand-me-downs; a pair of very yellow rain pants and an orange gray and white rain jacket. The good news- it was waterproof- bad news- I had the strange feeling I now knew what leftovers feel like when you wrap them up for lunch the next day- only lumpier. I looked ready for microwaving. We rode on and kept looking for a break in the clouds. They didn't really break, maybe bent a little- it just got darker and cooler. Finally we stopped for supper at Hart's Turkey Farm Restaurant- we were starved and my teeth were chattering with cold and fatigue as we entered the warm and delicious smelling restaurant. Michael went to the table and ordered lots and lots of hot coffee- I stepped into the ladies room to wash my face- big mistake. The face I saw in the mirror was completely unrecognizable- along with the fright wig of hair I had become accustomed to on shorter trips I had the REDDEST face I had ever seen- this could not be ME- I put on a 15 sunblock...oh... about 7 hours and 400 miles previous. Yep- one application. Here the Ephemerist learns a valuable lesson: sunblock, sunblock, sunblock!- I painted on a layer of normal face color and slicked my hair back so as not to put the other diners off their dinner. No one should have to sit across the table from anything that red unless thay have ordered steak tartare for an entree.
Three cups of coffee later I could almost feel my extremities and the shivers were down to a mere 4.5 on the Richter scale. I was also happily distracted by the restaurant's decor which boasted what the placemats claimed might be the world's largest collection of turkey-themed dinnerware. Hart's serves (on a busy day) over one ton of turkey, 40 gallons of gravy, 1,000 pounds of mashed potatoes- and so on. Not mentioned on the placemat was the teensy dish of carrot relish with saltines that was delivered to the table as a sort of amuse bouche. As breakfast was further behind me than the sunblock application and I didnt have any Doritos (Michael is not a good sharer- he is not ungenerous, it's just that if you try and hand someone back a Dorito on the bike moving at say... 70 mph and lose control of the Dorito- someone's gonna get hurt.) To say the least I was ready to eat and nothing I had eaten at Bouley or Per Se compared to this delectable little snack. Michael got less of the relish than I had of the Doritos. Day one on the road I learned another valuable lesson: survival of the whiniest. I was pretty damned cranky and even hungrier than I was wind burned- trying to wrest the relish dish from me was a life-threatening proposition for anyone brave enough to try it.
We ordered the traditional turkey-stuffing-cranberry dinner thing- me the small size and Michael thinking he would get the large- the relish now being long gone - the large serving is actually 1 lb. of meat and a half pound of stuffing. Even Amy the waitress warned- that's a LOT of food... a medium was ordered. That much turkey should never be consumed before driving- I believe consuming "the large" ia the equivalent of being tranquilized by an elephant gun. Thanksgiving in August is my idea of a really good time and this was really basic fare- but just right- I didn't want anything more complicated than a dish that said- even though YOUR life is spinning in a really new set of ways- certain basic rules still apply- that stuffing with gravy is one of life's great comforts. Dinner was yummy.
Hart's Turkey Farm Postcard Circa 1957- It's a bit bigger now...
We bedded down for the night in the nearest little roadside motel- renowned I can only imagine for its world famous (yet strangely unmentioned in the list of amenities pasted to the wall by the bathroom) mildew collection.
Saturday morning 8 am found us eating breakfast at a little moose-themed restaurant. The view from the window boasted a lovely burbling stream and offered lots of hot coffee. Michael warned me- not too much breakfast... you see- we were about to head up Mount Washington- the highest point on the Eastern seaboard and home of- and I quote- "The Most Severe Weather in the World". I called Fred from the parking lot of the cafe- explaining where I was and where I was headed- "that's good, dear" he said- "this is just what you need to exercise your wild side.." "You betcha..." I replied. Wait a sec-" I have a wild side?" I asked- Fred just laughed.
This is where I explain that in transferring 2/3 of my photos from the trip from camera to computer I LOST 202 of them. But the images are in my head.... and you will have to settle for a picture of Nin- the Mount Washington Observatory cat that I took from their website - look for more at www.mountwashington.org.
There are no guard rails on the 2 lane road that goes up and down the mountain and as we rode up the distance between the Harley's tires and the edge of the mountain appeared to be six inches of exceptionally spiky looking rocks. But looking past the edge the view was spectacular. I would say it was breath taking but that wasn't truly the case- as we rode up I breathed deeper than I ever had- the air became increasingly delicious with every intake. For each thousand feet of altitude we climbed the temperature dropped about five degrees and by the time we reached the top it was thirty five degrees and the wind was gusting at a brisk 53 miles per hour. I wasn't feeling a bit of it- and it wasn't just the nifty jacket I was bundled in (it plugged into the motorcycle and heated like an electric blanket- with its own little adjustable thermostat). There was just so much...life around us. Hikers rushing back and forth looking for hot chocolate or the rest room- the "Cog"- a little locomotive that winds up and down the mountain literally choo-chooing as it descends the hill . Clouds moving faster and closer than I had ever seen in a sky bluer than I'd ever encountered. Even Michael's normally "been here before" somewhat jaded demeanor faded and I saw a glimpse of the raucous child inside him as he clambered over the rocks at the edge of the mountain to stand on a lower ledge so that I could take a picture of him appearing to cling to the mountainside for dear life. Sad that those pictures were lost- good that I can still hear myself yelling over the wind- channelling my Mom- "Get... will you GET DOWN from there before you KILL yourself- if you fall off this mountain I am NOT going to come get you..." (No, I was gonna have to try and walk a two-ton Harley down a 6,000 foot mountain- I would've had my hands full.)
The Cog
As we went down the mountain a song came on the MP3 player- a familiar children's choir and the opening strains of the Stones' classic " You Can't Always Get What You Want" played and the valley opened and disappeared in front of us as we wound down the road. A feeling washed over me as the wind tore through my hair and the sun sparkled in my eyes- I did not want to leave this height- this air, this place and a sensation as close as I have felt to leaving the ground- of being totally free.
Then I remembered the sign in the observatory listing the 182 people recorded as dying on the mountaintop- from heart attacks and hypothermia mostly- no one died on a motorcycle- I checked. I loved the warning at the top of that list: "no one came up here INTENDING to die..." and heard my Mom's voice in my head saying "We'll come back another time."
Yep... we will. Next time I wanna drive.
Speaking of which- Hey- I passed the permit test on Saturday- 47 out of 50 questions right! The ones I got wrong might worry some..
22. The best way to talk to other drivers is to:
C) Roll down the window and yell
34. When I driver passes you on the right you:
A) Close your eyes until the other driver passes
47. A 5-ounce glass of wine contains the same amount of alcohol as:
B) A gallon of wine
I may need to study a bit more ... :) X
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