Sunday, October 29, 2017
Snowy Fall Riding
So much going on now. The bike calms me down and centers my attention, and any patch of roadway that isn't ice covered is going to see me riding that day.
Thursday, October 19, 2017
Fall Up North
It's been a couple weeks without riding spent living in the mountains of Colorado. We just got back two days ago, so yesterday I decided to take a long early ride way up north and spend my workday on the north shore of Lake Superior. I missed everything about riding a motorcycle. Being in a car no longer seems "fun", no matter the ride or the road.
I'd rather be on a bike, that simple, especially on days like these. I loaded up, dressed the part, and steered the Bandit north with the sky a dark grey.
The early morning climate was bitingly cold at our give-or-take 90 mph, and what remained of the night air still held enough moisture in it to wick heat away from my many layers of protection. I bit down hard and bore the sting in my fingertips and the cold on my neck until the sun crested high enough to bring warmth back into my world.
The Bandit hummed along reassuringly on the northbound interstate, and we quickly found our 'scenic' route (route 23) about a hundred miles later, taking us in at a northeast angle to the lake and immersing the both of us in early morning fall colors and a landscape beyond description.
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Reaching the lake brought a change in tone again, Duluth is an industrialized harbor city near the southwest corner of Lake Superior. Large superstructures and winding urban-jungle-worthy roadways dominate the harbor scenery. Long gone were the twisties through falling oak and maple leaves leading up to this point. Once past the harbor town, though, the road quickly returns to scenic, with hundred-foot maples, elms, and pines on either side of scenic 61 as it follows the coastline towards Canada. Just lovely.
I spend my workday in a small harbor cafe talking to the locals about life up north. They are happy and excited that fall is here. They talk to me about the beauty of this day and bemoan the long snowy winter ahead but the corners of their mouths turn up as they do, reflecting a kind of silent smile that the commotion of the busy spring/summer/fall will soon be supplanted by the calm, inward, reflective time that winter brings here.
On the ride back, the Bandit and I stray from the interstate for a while and find a long grassy path to nowhere that is pointed in the right direction (due west) for us to take in the looming sunset. The Bandit's smoothing street tires are really not up for the grass and mud, we are still very far up north, and the rest of the ride back to the city will be a 140 miles of dark and moonless interstate. But none of that matters right now. I feel like I want to soak in all the colors of the day I've spent up here while I still have the chance.
The sunset doesn't disappoint, its changing and bursting oranges and deepening blues slowly hue the sky into a dark sleep. A biting wind starts up with the sunset, and I take long swigs from my thermos of lukewarm coffee. I spend the next three hours riding back home on dark roads, avoiding deer and road hazards, leaning into the growing crosswind and fully satisfied by the day.
I'd rather be on a bike, that simple, especially on days like these. I loaded up, dressed the part, and steered the Bandit north with the sky a dark grey.
The early morning climate was bitingly cold at our give-or-take 90 mph, and what remained of the night air still held enough moisture in it to wick heat away from my many layers of protection. I bit down hard and bore the sting in my fingertips and the cold on my neck until the sun crested high enough to bring warmth back into my world.
The Bandit hummed along reassuringly on the northbound interstate, and we quickly found our 'scenic' route (route 23) about a hundred miles later, taking us in at a northeast angle to the lake and immersing the both of us in early morning fall colors and a landscape beyond description.
Reaching the lake brought a change in tone again, Duluth is an industrialized harbor city near the southwest corner of Lake Superior. Large superstructures and winding urban-jungle-worthy roadways dominate the harbor scenery. Long gone were the twisties through falling oak and maple leaves leading up to this point. Once past the harbor town, though, the road quickly returns to scenic, with hundred-foot maples, elms, and pines on either side of scenic 61 as it follows the coastline towards Canada. Just lovely.
I spend my workday in a small harbor cafe talking to the locals about life up north. They are happy and excited that fall is here. They talk to me about the beauty of this day and bemoan the long snowy winter ahead but the corners of their mouths turn up as they do, reflecting a kind of silent smile that the commotion of the busy spring/summer/fall will soon be supplanted by the calm, inward, reflective time that winter brings here.
On the ride back, the Bandit and I stray from the interstate for a while and find a long grassy path to nowhere that is pointed in the right direction (due west) for us to take in the looming sunset. The Bandit's smoothing street tires are really not up for the grass and mud, we are still very far up north, and the rest of the ride back to the city will be a 140 miles of dark and moonless interstate. But none of that matters right now. I feel like I want to soak in all the colors of the day I've spent up here while I still have the chance.
The sunset doesn't disappoint, its changing and bursting oranges and deepening blues slowly hue the sky into a dark sleep. A biting wind starts up with the sunset, and I take long swigs from my thermos of lukewarm coffee. I spend the next three hours riding back home on dark roads, avoiding deer and road hazards, leaning into the growing crosswind and fully satisfied by the day.
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