No, not the Yamahas.

I haven’t been posting much here lately because, well, I haven’t been riding much.  My personal life has taken an unexpected turn for the better, and I’ve been devoting time to that.  But mostly I’ve been getting the VFR ready for a four-week trip this fall.  Rather than be redundant, I’ll just refer you to my other site: MotoTour2010.com.

Or, “Up the River Without a History Book”
To many people who grew up in Philadelphia, American history has been a big part of their culture.  And to many motorcyclists living in the Delaware Valley, a big part of their culture is a Sunday morning ride along the Delaware River on Route 32.  The day’s ride starts near Washington’s Crossing, where the state park chronicles General Washington’s attack on the Hessian outpost in Trenton, NJ on the night of December 25th, 1776.

Route 32, or River Road as it is also labeled, winds its way up through the town of New Hope, founded in 1710.  Originally known for its mills and forges, New Hope is now home to many antique shops, the Bucks County Playhouse, and the New Hope Winery.  On any spring or summer weekend, hundreds of motorcycles can be found parked in town, their riders dining in any of the fine restaurants along Route 32.  On most days, traffic is slow-going the three blocks through downtown New Hope, but the town is still worth a look.

Just a few miles up the road from New Hope, at the junction of Routes 32 and 263, is Dilly’s Corner, a popular spot for hamburgers, hot dogs, and especially ice cream.  With a belly full of soft-serve, continue north on 32 and follow the blue signs to another weekend biker hangout: Van Sant Airport.  Originally a glider port called the Silver Star Airport, it was bought by John Van Sant in 1944, and is now home to Sport Aviation which offers rides in gliders and biplanes.  Backtracking to Route 32 (or continuing west to 611) and heading north, Route 32 ends at Route 611 which winds its way north toward Easton, PA.

Between the road and the river, lies the Delaware Canal, once used to bring resources such as coal, limestone, cement and lumber from the northeastern parts of Pennsylvania to the city of Philadelphia.  Over the past few years, some of the berms and towpaths, now commonly used as a bicycle trail, were damaged by flood waters.  Efforts to repair and restore the towpath and the canal itself can be seen from the roadway on 611.  It’s rumored that once the repairs to the canal are made, horse-drawn barge rides along the canal will return to New Hope.

Route 611 enters Easton as Larry Holmes Drive, named after the former heavyweight boxing champion that was born here.  Its historic district nestled between the Lehigh and Delaware Rivers, Easton served as a transportation hub for coal and steel through the 1800s, thanks to the convergence of the Delaware, Lehigh and Morris canals. North of Easton, 611 becomes a twisty byway, with several scenic pull-offs overlooking the Delaware River.

Pressing north towards the Delaware Water Gap, follow the signs to I-80 and Route 209 North. Route 209 becomes a very efficient road (read: pretty darn straight), but provides some opportunities to pass slow-moving vehicles.  This area is known as the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area, with many activities available including swimming, fishing and rock climbing.  Some camp sites are available here as well.

Route 209 merges with Route 6 in Milford, PA before crossing into New York State at Port Jervis, NY.  Located where Pennsylvania, New York and New Jersey intersect, Port Jervis was named for John B. Jervis, the chief engineer for the Delaware and Hudson Canal, for which the town was a major port.  Of interest to motorcycle magazine readers, Hunter S. Thompson reportedly lived here early in his career until he was fired from the local paper after assaulting a vending machine.

Turning west onto Route 97 leads to the famous Hawk’s Nest in the town of Deerpark.  Named after the local birds, this part of Route 97 was originally a one-lane dirt road in 1859, paved in the 1930s, and in 2002 was dedicated as part of the “Upper Delaware Scenic Byway.”  The scenic overlooks make for impromptu gathering spots for motorcyclists and motorists alike.

All along the route are opportunities to explore other areas.  From Washington’s Crossing, the Bucks County covered bridges tour takes you through 11 covered bridges in the course of a few hours.  Take Route 29 in New Jersey and bypass New Hope for a quicker run up to Easton.  Along Route 611, dozens of numbered routes provide twisty westward tarmac that will welcome you into parts of Pennsylvania’s farmlands.  And Hawk’s Nest provides a great jumping-off point for adventures into New York and New England: just continue north on Route 97 and pick up Route 30 north through the Catskills, or from Port Jervis head east on Route 6 across Bear Mountain and into Connecticut.

The journey from northeast Philadelphia to Hawk’s Nest takes about three and a half hours, at a sport-touring pace, adding time for sight-seeing and a meal.  A round-trip of about 8 hours makes for a relaxing day trip over nicely-curved roads, with spectacular scenic views of the Delaware River below, plenty of diversions should I ever decide to get off the bike, and with plenty of time to get home for dinner.

Last summer, I took a long day trip to visit the legendary Pine Creek Gorge – also known as the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania - and became enchanted with another Pennsylvania legend: Route 6.  I did some online research into the scenic roadway, which enters PA in the northeast near Milford, expands into a section of highway as it passes through the Scranton area, and eventually becomes a sweeping two-lane scenic byway most of the way to Ohio.

Rolling through light traffic on I-476 on a Saturday morning, I noticed some dark clouds looming over the Wilkes-Barre area.  The weather forecasts for the weekend had been hopeful, and so I took Route 315 to Route 92 north under an optimistically light drizzle.

Winding along the Susquehanna River, Route 92 was showing signs of a recent storm, or so I thought.  There was plenty of loose foliage in the road, including a log the size of my leg in the middle of my lane near Exeter.  A few miles up the road, I caught up to the actual source of the carnage: a double-wide trailer being hauled by a small crew, knocking off the branches of low-hanging trees.  Eventually, the crew decided to stop and assess the damage to the trailer, giving me and the other waiting drivers a chance to pass.  A few more minutes of twisty-road goodness without having to dodge tree limbs, and I was turning west onto Route 6.

A few miles down the road, some construction forced a detour onto Route 187.  Detour or not, Route 187 was a great diversion from the relatively straight Route 6.  An exciting series of tight twisties eventually brought me back to Route 6, continuing as a 2-lane highway with local traffic clogging things up and no room to pass.  The spare tire cover on a Jeep in front of me proclaimed “Life is Good” and despite the traffic, I had to agree.  Past Wysox, the road opened up to a more rural two-lane with lighter traffic and the sweeping curves appeared with more frequency, as did little red barns.

In Wellsboro, I stopped at Memorial Park to admire the statues and memorials dedicated to local and national veterans.  Route 660 leads south out of town and winds its way into the forest to terminate at the eastern rim of Pine Creek Gorge.  One can spend hours just looking at the scenery over the local Grand Canyon, or spend all day walking the trails that lead down into it.

After a few quick photos of the scenery, as well as the wedding taking place in the park, I jumped back on my trusty Honda just as the gray skies began to open up.  Backtracking on 660 through Wellsboro and picking up Route 6 west, the rain steadily increased, coming down heaviest as I passed through Paradise.  The name didn’t seem fitting at that moment.

As the rain began to let up, I discovered that wildlife abounds along Route 6, and sometimes it a-bounds across the road.  From the woods on my left, a fawn leaped onto the roadway in the oncoming lane, matching my trajectory and nearly matching my pace.  I rolled on the throttle just as the wee deer deked to its right and across my lane.  In the mirror, it looked like he had tried to jump over the back of my motorcycle, as he was at least three feet in the air over top of where I had been just a second earlier.  Eventually he ran into the trees on the north side of the road without further incident, but his antics had me riding much slower the rest of the day.

I arrived at the Kinzua Bridge under a light rain.  In 2002, during overdue renovation, the century and a half year old railroad bridge was struck by a passing tornado and much of its span toppled to the ground.  Already a landmark for its age and local history, the Kinzua Bridge is now a fascinating testament to nature’s destructive power over man’s creations.  The rain let up just as I found my way back onto Route 6.

A $16 fee rented me a tent spot way in the back of the Foote Rest campground on Rt 219, just north of Route 6.  I carefully navigated my loaded-up VFR through the RV area, trying to avoid the hundred or so bunny rabbits that shared the campground with the visitors.  After setting up camp, I took the 20 mile ride north to Bradford for dinner at Fitelli’s 50s restaurant.  Later that night, I awoke in my tent to the sounds of twigs breaking underfoot outside.  I quickly fell back asleep, assuring myself “it’s only the rabbits, it’s only the rabbits.”

After sleeping-in until 7:30am the next day, I emerged from my tent to a sky that just looked wet.  The clouds swirled in a dozen shades of gray, all looking to put a damper on the day’s activities, which started with a visit to Kinzua Dam.

By mid-morning the clouds had burned off from the summer heat, and Route 6 turned into 4-lane highway between Warren and Youngstown, allowing me to stretch the VFR’s legs a little.  Instead of following the main Route 6 to the Ohio border, I opted for the northern route, 6N towards Erie.  Route 6N terminates at Route 20, where I headed north to Presque National Park and snapped a few pictures as I relaxed on the edge of the beach.

After a few hours of twisting through central PA and zipping east on the Turnpike, I was home.  The weekend surely didn’t allow me enough time to explore more than a little of what northern Pennsylvania has to offer.  With so much more to see along Route 6, there is no doubt that I will be spending many more weekends in northern Pennsylvania.

See the full route and some pics on my SpotAdventures page: Motorcycle Weekend - Route 6 in PA at SpotAdventures

Or, “It’s frikken hot in here!”

While Darek made his way across the Pennsylvania Turnpike, racing towards our lunch spot, Todd and I came across a dozen classic motorcycles parked off the side of Rt 641.  I pointed at them, in case Todd was asleep and didn’t see them.  After we passed, he flashed his high-beam and we turned around to investigate the roadside attraction further.

By the time we were off the bikes and Todd had his camera out, a friendly fellow calling himself George approached us.  George explained he was a mechanic, and part of a small company setting up shop at that location, then offered us the nickel tour.  George led us back to a 300′ converted poultry barn, now filled with literally hundreds of classic motorcycles of all makes, in various states of decay and restoration.  According to George, the place will be open for business in about 8 months as a one-stop purchasing and restoration shop for bikes over 20 years old.  Todd continued the tour and took some photos while I took a call from Darek and gave him last-minute directions to lunch.

Darek arrived at the Path Valley Family Restaurant about the time Todd and I were debating on whether to wait for him by the bikes, or head inside and get a table.   The waitress’ gruff and frank demeanor might be a bit off-putting for normal folks, but having been raised in Philly I felt right at home.  The food was good, and all three of us commented on the reasonable prices.  With our bellies filled, and our bladders emptied, we headed northwest towards Clearfield.

Back on 641 heading northwest, we picked up 522 north to 322 north.  With the GPS constantly recalculating our route to the campground in Moshannon State Park, I led our little group over 2-lane roads running parallel to Rt 322 north until we hit a dead-end on Old Rt 322 in Armagh Township.  Zooming in on the GPS map for more detail, Todd and I both decided on Lingle Valley Road to get us out of the area and back on track.  Lingle Valley Road quickly deteriorated from a narrow paved road into a gravel forest road.  We rode slowly through gravel - sometimes deep - over the mountain pass, and finally hit tarmac several scary miles later at Stone Creek Road.  Wandering through Rothrock State Forest, we made our way up near State College, where we picked up 322 north again.

In order to avoid more gravel roads, we stayed on 322 to Philipsburg, where we picked up Rt 504 (Black Moshannon Rd) East to the campgrounds in Black Moshannon Park.  We took advantage of the daylight and set up camp before heading to Clearfield to try and catch up with some STN’ers for dinner.  The tents went up even more quickly this time and with our less-valuable gear stowed inside them, we jumped back on the bikes and headed into town.

A quick run over I-80 put us into Clearfield in a few minutes.  The first hotel I spotted with motorcycles was the Super 8.  We stopped and chatted with a few folks there before pressing on to dinner.  We had settled on pizza, so Todd pulled up the nearest non-chain pizza shop on his GPS.  We found Mabel’s Pizza Shop, and the manager was surprised to learn it was on Todd’s Garmin.  The shop is not much more than a store-front in a residential neighborhood of Clearfield, and the inside is as hot as the oven.  Honestly, it was barely tolerable long enough to order our pizzas, but it was worth the effort (and the wait) for the classic neighborhood-style pizza most of us grew up on.  We gobbled down our pizzas on the front step of Mabel’s, then stopped down the street at Buster’s Sports Bar for a few six-packs of Yuengling Lager which fit perfectly in Todd’s saddlebags for the ride back to the camp site.

Heading back to camp, Darek and I swapped bikes, as we were both having minor issues that we couldn’t seem to diagnose.  Sometimes another rider can help pinpoint problems by feel, since they haven’t grown accustomed to the bike’s imperfections.  I had to agree that Darek’s issue was his chain - either too tight or not lubed enough - whereas Darek didn’t ride my VFR hard enough to feel the slight chattering I was experiencing in the front end under hard braking.

Todd led with his GPS pointing the way down some broken tarmac and even lightly-graveled roads through Moshannon State Park.  With the sun fully set, the local wildlife were active, and several deer crossed our paths, making the back roads through the woods on someone else’s bike even more harrowing…

Or, “I don’t think this tent sleeps two.”

Sport-Touring.Net’s Region 6 fourth annual Meet-and-Eat (also called the “Burger Run”) was dutifully and expertly organized by Garry for Sunday, April 26th.  Over a hundred motorcyclists and their bikes were planning to show up for lunch at Denny’s Beer Barrel Pub in Clearfield, PA, a place best-known for serving the largest hamburgers around, including a 100-lb burger that takes 9 hours to cook.  Todd and I took it as an opportunity to ride all weekend and initiate ourselves with motorcycle camping.  I had meant to meet up with Darek last year for a few rides but our plans fell through, so I invited him to join us on this short adventure.

Todd and I wasted no time, both heading out after work on Friday.  Todd had reserved a tent camping spot at the Harrisburg East Campground,  a privately-owned campground just 5 miles from downtown Harrisburg, PA.  We met at the Wendy’s at the intersection of Rt 283 and S. Eisenhower Boulevard, where I spent several minutes wondering why this Wendy’s didn’t have apple pies before realizing that Wendy’s never had apple pies - I was thinking of Burger King’s pies.

From there, the campground was only a few blocks away.  We located the bathrooms across the road in the RV section of the campground, and got to work setting up camp.  Arriving after dark, we were glad we brought our head lights (lights we wore on our heads) as we set up our tents and unloaded the bikes.  Luckily there was only one other tent in the area, and it was way on the other side; the tent sites are right on top of each other at this campground.

My tent went up easily enough - I had practiced putting it up inside my apartment last year - but it is much smaller than I had previously realized.  The labels says “Sleeps 2″, but it is also labeled as a “Junior” tent, so I’m assuming that means it sleeps two kids?  Anyway, despite Todd’s laughing and finger-pointing at my diminutive shelter, it was big enough for my 5′6″ body along with some of the gear I wanted to keep close and protected.  My riding jacket and helmet slept with me to keep them warm and relatively dry, and all of my valuable electronics (cell phone, camera, video camera, GPS) were kept within the tent, secured by the zippered door.

I slept very well, thanks to several comfort items that will go on my permanent camping list.  The big blue Wal-Mart tarp under the tent kept the tent floor dry and warm.  The Therma-Rest pad further cushioned by body from the ground, even though I skimped and bought a short one figuring I don’t really need padding under my legs.   And then there was the compression pillow I picked up at REI - absolutely invaluable.  Todd whined about how his makeshift pillow - a rolled-up jacket liner - just didn’t do the job.  Todd brought his own useful items though, not the least of which being a white-LED lamp that, when hung from the ceiling, lit up his entire tent very well.

Saturday morning we headed west.  The plan was to meander on two-lane roads to the Path Valley Family Restaurant in Spring Run, PA where we would meet Darek for lunch.  I pulled up the restaurant’s waypoint in the GPS, and used it as a general guide as we wandered along the two-lane roads that parallel the PA Turnpike.  I really wish I had turned on the GPS’ tracking feature, because we did find some nice twisties here and there.

Darek was making his way across the PA Turnpike from Philly when Todd and I made an unusual roadside discovery…