I’M STARTING to see a bit of daylight on things that need to get done, so I made a point of firing up the iron piggy Saturday and taking her for a blast down the road.
Hard to believe but it was my biggest-mile day in three years, a lousy 200 miles that felt like more. Whatever happened to that pre-stage-3 me? I used to ride 50o- & 600- & 700-mile days, one after another after another. This getting older thing is for the birds.
Welllll… gotta start somewhere. Maybe 200 miles felt like plenty because half of it was on the highway where everything’s so fast and congested and hazardous.
On two wheels you’re safer going a little faster than the 80mph texters, tiktokers and instagrammers. Safer from them but more at risk from animals, that’s the trade off. At 60mph you’ve a reasonably good chance of evading an animal that runs across the highway. I’ve done it, narrowly missing deer in Nevada, antelope in Montana, but your chances exponentially fall off as the speed goes up.
It’s not like you have to hit a big animal at speed, either. On a curve, any 5-pound bag of grease under your front wheel will do. That state of hyper-alertness burns calories like mad in the mad workspace between the ears. It takes a toll, so… that’s why I say… meh… 200 miles, not much to write about.
Which raises the question: Why am I?
We’ve been up & back to Vermont quite a bit, mostly working in the woods. Last time there I felled a dangerously dead tree, the kind where you strongly suspect the top 30 feet will fold back as the tree meets a little resistance on the way down. Not an overly big tree, two feet in diameter, maybe 60 feet tall. A big dead slingshot full of woodpecker holes.
The garage foundation is in. Five of us are headed back up in a few weeks to frame the building. No roof trusses, no crane. The last I knew Jonny was planning to order engineered floor joists to span both bays but we’ll stick-build the rafters for the studio apartment on the second level.
I’m told it’ll be Jonny, Adam, Eduardo, Joey and me.
I’m going to lobby for a six-man crew; add a full-time cook and coffee-maker so we can all stay on task from dawn to dark.
Clearly, we need our very own Po Campo.
My friend Will, in Pennsylvania, recently got out for an interesting little adventure on a 50-year-old motorcycle. A few weeks ago he rode a 1,900-mile loop on the Mid-Atlantic Backcountry Discovery Route, from the Pennsylvania/New York line down to somewhere in Virginia and back.
He’d done it before, on a 650. This time he traveled lighter yet on a 250 that had sat for 23 years. He pulled the motor, installed one he’d rebuilt for another XL some years ago, headed out and had nary a mechanical issue, save for a little oil consumption, nothing unusual there when you’re seating new piston rings.
Will figures the MABDR might be about 75 percent off pavement, which jibes with what I’ve heard from my friend Scott in Fredericton, NB. Scott rode it a few years back, rode it heavy on his R 1250 GS.
The sections of the trail that aren’t off road are quiet country lanes
My piglet 650 is all set up for just that sort of ride. I went right through it three years ago when I got home from the Arctic, installed about $4,000 in new parts. It’s been sitting ever since. I was going through the chemo wringer at the time, never even fueled the tank or reinstalled the battery. I’m sure the new suspension, pumper carb, all new controls, better bars, pegs, etc, are worth every penny, I just can’t say it from experience yet.
I thought of joining Will on the ride but couldn’t get away. That time is still up ahead somewhere.
An experienced rider, Will brakes for beeves. Good policy.
In my next life, I want Elmer’s job. Elmer goes everywhere! And just look at that face…
Here he is camped on an island in Casco Bay, off Portland, Maine. Our friend Amanda camped on the island solo in recent weeks (what do you mean, solo? says Elmer, I was there…) and a week later they camped up north in the headwaters of the Connecticut River.
Peaceful there! Amanda sent me these 60 seconds of the sound of silence.
Just… lovely.
Our friend Vincent Ogutu from Kenya stopped by for an overnight visit last week, en route from Boston to DC. Smart guy, delightful company, fluent in five languages. He’s an economist by profession, serves as vice chancellor of Strathmore University in Nairobi, home to 4,000 students.
His visit must have inspired me to keep a little momentum going; get out of the home-improvement rut and make time to see friends over the weekend. That’s what the 200 miles was about.
I rode down to New Haven to see Dave Crombie, a friend from my newspaper days. Like Vincent, Dave’s multilingual, congenial in conversation, and has total recall to boot. At 80 and a newsman to the core, he remains richly amused at the entertainment value of human folly. Dave deftly weaves a little mischief into every conversation. He’ll square the circle with a sly punchline you never saw coming. But when it gets there, you see it was inevitable.
About the total recall thing: Dave’s the king of facts, large and small.
At a coffee joint in New Haven, I mention a colleague neither one of us has seen in a generation. Isn’t she from Minnesota? No, she’s from North Dakota. Dave goes on to recall the name of our friend’s one-horse town in North Dakota, the names of her parents, their professions, the country their parents had emigrated from in Europe.
By some quirk of nature, everything Dave’s ever read or heard or seen is at his fingertips. Which is why he was such a great reporter.
He and Paula are closing up the house in New Haven this month, putting it on the market. They have a house in Mexico, not far from Guadalajara. Dave thinks they might buy a summer place in the Pacific Northwest to be near their granddaughters part of the year.
So after coffee with Dave, I ride north and east to Hebron, Connecticut, to see our friend Jorge Nelson, a teacher, administrator, and yet another polylingual of my acquaintance. (Why am I the only person I know still working on a command of just one language?)
A nice ice-cold kombucha…
From Seattle by way of Nebraska, Jorge has lived and worked all over the world, in Pakistan, South Korea, Indonesia, Panama, Venezuela, Mexico, Guam, Austria…
Over a brutally hot week in August, 2012, I toasted the iron piggy’s factory motor while pushing hot oil from the Atlantic to the Pacific. On no notice, Jorge hooked up a trailer and drove 250 miles to Spokane to collect me and my 900-pound doorstop off the side of the road.
Nowadays he’s running a private school in Connecticut.
He drives a ’47 Ford tonner. Mine’s a ’49 half ton but they both came stock with the same inline six flatmotor. I retired mine years ago, replaced it with the correct V8 flathead for the ’49 F-1.
I had a motor part here in the shed that Jorge could use, so I ran it out to him. Good excuse to go for a ride.
My great-niece from Pennsylvania was in nearby Massachusetts recently, to compete in a softball tournament. We took my eldest granddaughter, D1D1, to meet her second cousin and watch a few games.
The little girl’s a budding athlete. Soccer, softball, gymnastics… She was thrilled to watch the big girls take the field.
The Phantom epic rolls on, to the horror of some. Last week, the Phantom met his death in the Mozz prophecy. He was searching for his son, Kit, in northeastern India, traveling incognito as Mr. Walker. (“There are times when the Phantom leaves the jungle and walks the streets of the town, like an ordinary man.” Old Jungle Saying.)
Kit’s militia took Walker for a hired killer, ambushed him, and, from 800 yards out, Kit’s girlfriend shot Walker fatally, if not immediately so. Then a second shot, the coup de gras.
I’ll say more about the story in this space in October, after the next chapter in the saga begins. I don’t encourage Phantom readers to frequent this site but… this story’s different. It’s broken a few boundaries for the first time since 1936, when the lore began. So once we’re out of the prophecy and back into the present timeline, I’ll have something to say about why this story, and why now.
Will close here with a few old-house photos from my Saturday travels in Connecticut.
Jorge and Peggy’s place in Hebron, built in 1816.
Paula and Dave’s house in New Haven. Three floors, 4,000 square feet, classic double parlor and center hall. It must be 90 feet from the front porch to the back.
This is how they built porch ceilings in 1910.
Apparently, Hiram Bingham once lived in the house; yes, that Hiram Bingham, the Yale professor, U.S. Senator, and Connecticut Governor credited with discovering Machu Picchu.
He did not, in fact, discover the Inca ruins, but he did have the name recognition to bring them to the attention of the outside world. Local farmers guided him there in 1911, and some accounts say a handful of European and North American travelers had hiked to the ruins some years before Bingham.
But anyway, he was the first famous arrival. So when they built a road for tour buses to grind up & down the mountain, Bingham’s the guy they named the road after.
Tony DePaul, September 6, 2022, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
Good luck on your continued recovery journey. After such a prolonged, debilitating illness we need to take baby steps to get back to where we were or at least closer to where we were. It can be a long, frustrating process I know but the alternative is just to give up, which is not provide an optimal outcome. You have interesting friends. Fun hearing about them.
Thank you, Joe. Closer is the word. Closer would be great! I’ll happily declare victory & depart the field.
Thanks for reading.
Ah, the good old Hiram Bingham highway. Been on it many times. It requires complete trust in a bus driver. The house seemed cool from your pictures and a good deal more accessible by motorcycle than the highway.
We just returned from a drive from Wichita to Tacoma, WA with a stop in Colorado for a few days and back through North Dakota where we also spent a few days. Being the sissies we are, we drove our RAV4 instead of riding a motorcycle, which we have never even owned. North Dakota was my 50th state. Patty already had hers.
Hey! Always good to hear from you, Jim. We were in Maine over the weekend for Pam’s 50th high school reunion, got back here late last night. It was such fun! Ended way too soon. It was one event after another from Friday through Sunday, some with the whole class, some with smaller groups at restaurants or a graduate’s oceanside home or lakeside camp. I was just telling a classmate of Pam’s via email that I feel closer to her graduating class than I do my own.
Sounds like a great trip to the Pacific Northwest & back. And 50 states is quite a landmark. Iron Piggy and I won’t get there until we take a spin around Hawaii.
I’d bet Hawaii doesn’t give “Save the Best For Last” tee shirts, but North Dakota does and you get a certificate. I didn’t make to to Fargo to get mine in person, but I did fill out their form. https://www.fargomoorhead.org/plan-a-trip/best-for-last-club/
Very clever! Kudos to North Dakota for turning a perceived disadvantage into a plus. Way better than Nothing to see here, might as well visit us last.
Thanks for your wonderful hospitality Tony and Pam! I loved the evening and morning of first rate uplifting conversation. A piece of heaven on earth, really. Looking forward to making this happen again sometime soon. And by the way, it’s not too late to turn you into a polyglot!
Vincent! Great to hear from you. You must be home in Nairobi by now?
At your urging, I’ve been working with Duolingo and Memrise every day. So far, I’m fairly confident I can find my way to any el museo in the Spanish-speaking world.
Hello Tony,
Thanks for the press time, and making me part of your “collage of characters”! I love the way you introduce people, by the time you’re done I feel I have met each one of them in person. Hopefully you get your projects done, and get some more riding in. Your riding endurance will improve as you get back on the bike more often. I think folks don’t realize what a physical event motorcycle riding is until you’ve been away from it for awhile (I was whipped at the end of each day on the trail).
Kind regards,
Will
Thanks for sending me the photos, Will.
Any thoughts of riding the NEBDR next? The parts I’ve incorporated into the gpx file mentioned below are a little bit of section 3, all of 4 and half of 5. That should get me up around Reading, Vermont.
I was hoping to ride it this season but it’s starting to look like spring 2023. Could be interesting with the runoff in the water crossings!
Hello again Tony,
Yes, actually I have been thinking about it; originally I thought I was going to ride the NEBDR with two fellas from my neck of the woods; it’s what I prepped the XL250 for. But then things got all jumbled up, so I decided to do the MABDR again, and the other two guys couldn’t make it. So yeah, I would love to do the NEBDR, or at least a portion of it. I know the XL can handle the trail, and everything in between (just takes a little longer on the old machine.
Regards,
Will
Let me know if you decide to do the MABDR next year brother, love to ride down, meet up and do it again👍
Will do, Scott.
Here’s something I’ve been looking at lately: on advrider I’ve seen a gpx file mapping an off-road route from RI up to the Quabbin Reservoir in western MA. From there, a little west of there, actually, you can pick up the Northeast BDR, which runs right through Reading VT, the town where the kids are building a house.
So I’ve tried my hand at editing those files, combining them into one, and I’ve got it loaded onto the Garmin. All that’s left to do is ride it & see how it goes.
It’s 300 miles, roughly twice as long as the distance by pavement.
Your visit with Dave sounds delightful, it’s great you got to visit before he leaves the country. His recall always astounded me. He’s, as you say, the king of facts. And also the king of storytelling. Great photo of him, too. I also love Jorge’s home, and what a friend, to come all that distance to help you.
Hi, Ellie. I get the idea Dave and Paula haven’t missed the Connecticut winters. Guadalajara winters and Oregon summers could work out nicely for them.
What a house they have in New Haven, though. It would be hard to give up.
On the other hand, they’ve enjoyed it for 30 years, and time, as it must, marches on.
Boy Howdy…….I hear ya. My 2017 Road Glide Special has a total of 4,003 miles on it in 4 1/2 years of ownership, a whopping 900 miles a year average. Clearly not enjoying riding as much as I used to, so I put it up for sale this week. At age 68, I prefer to hop in the Porsche convertible and put the top down, no helmet, no jacket, gets too hot turn on the A/C and if it rains run the top up in 20 seconds.
And like you said Tony, deer strikes. I’ve hit three myself in the past 20 years, all in cars, and they are generally survivable in a 4 wheeler. Can get ugly on a bike.
My wife said “Are you going to miss not having a motorcycle?” And I said “Well, there are plenty around if I feel I need another”. Life is all about change over time.
https://washingtondc.craigslist.org/nva/mcy/d/fairfax-station-2017-harley-davidson/7530261688.html
It’s a beauty, D! Not even broken in.
If you don’t get your price, there’s still time to see the Cape Breton Highlands and the Cabot Trail, aka the Pacific Coast Highway of the East. An easy ride from VA and you have plenty of beautiful autumn days in Nova Scotia left before the season ends.
Loved the cook video, you are amazing!
So glad you are riding again,
we hope to see you and Pam in the Northwest.
Your depiction of characters, homes and travels
is a delight🥰
“Our boys ain’t gonna take much to eatin’ bugs.”
Good thing we’re easier to please than the Lonesome Dove crew. Eduardo’s family in Guatemala keeps us supplied with ants roasted in garlic and lime juice.
As someone who has never been on a motorcycle, I truly enjoy your adventures.
Also, I have great memories of Crombie. A group of us (women only) from the newsroom would meet him for lunch. I was always the designated driver. Hint, hint! I’m so happy to learn that he is well.
Everybody loves Crombie. And Claire, you’ll be pleased to know that Crombie still has crumbs on his shirt. Except now they’re muffin crumbs from New Haven coffee joints. In the Projo days, they were bread crumbs from Portuguese bakeries in Central Falls. Or was it Fall River he would disappear to? Maybe both…
As a longtime resident of Pennsylvania, I am fascinated by its back roads, small towns, trails, and state parks. Glad to see them get so much attention. I appreciate the photos.
Looking forward to the Reveal over at “The Phantom”. The meta-story allows you to explore outside the canon….the painful implication of the Phantom heritage for the 21st Phantom.
I’m looking forward to the MABDR at some point. Pennsylvania’s my home state, southeastern PA but I’ve been through the northern counties quite a bit. The northern end of the MABDR starts in Tioga County, in the Alleghenies. East flank of the range. The headwaters of the river are over on the other side, around Coudersport. There’s a sign in town that you’re crossing the Allegheny River, which is funny because it’s hardly a creek, more like a brook. Whereabouts are you in PA, Robert?
I live in the western suburbs of Philadelphia with easy access to the Pennsylvania turnpike and the northeast extension. Easy to get to Doylestown, Lambertville, and all points north and west.
Yes the ‘probable’ death of Phantom in the daily strip has riled up some Phans. For me the biggest disappointment was the way the end came. Could have been a more glorious one for such an enduring character…will look forward to your inputs/commentary on this story in October
Regards
Thanks for reading, Amir. Probable is a good word. Mozz has some thoughts on that before this chapter ends.
Nice update on Crombie. I have other friends who have moved to Mexico for retirement as well. The cost of living is something tiny to behold, even in an ex-pat town like SMA. Jackleen de la Harpe told me Dave’s daughter is a reporter for the Portland Oregonian.
Hi, Pam. Noelle does report for the Oregonian.
Portland could have used the 9 inches of rain we got here the other day! Yesterday I set out through the woods behind the house for a look at the Pawtuxet River. Never even got halfway there. The water must be chest deep in the flood plain.
I could tell you a hundred stories about Dave, not all of them good.
Haha! More total recall!
Hi Tony, nice to hear you are back to riding. We moved back to Summerside, P E I last summer. We are heading to Australia on Tuesday for two months. Wishing you great health and a lot more rides on miss piggy.
Two months! That sounds wonderful. Two months would make traveling that far worthwhile. You’ll actually have time to enjoy being there. It must be hell to go for a week or two, but people do it.
Glad to learn that you are back on the road again! For a mere 200-mile trip, you crammed in visits with a lot of interesting characters. I, of course, was absolutely thrilled to get that wonderful update on Dave Crombie, who, by your account, hasn’t changed one bit. You’d think at 80, he might have forgotten something so minor as MJ’s hometown! Thanks also for the photo of Dave and that elegant home he is about to abandon.
The amazing Crombino! As sharp as ever, and his voice is as you remember it, Carol. He sounds exactly as he did at 50.
We’re standing in the checkout line at the coffee joint, the gal at the register says $13.47. I hand her a twenty. Dave leans over and says, 1347, the Black Death comes to Europe. Everybody goes to bed healthy and wakes up dead in the morning.
I could listen to Dave talk all day. But then all I’d do is chuckle and the people at the next table would think I must be simple.
I have really enjoyed this Phantom story so far. It will be interesting to see how everything really plays out. There is a part of me that thinks Old Man Mozz doesn’t know what is right in front of him.
Hmm… okay. Interesting thought.
The local paper in Hebron CT carries the strip. I didn’t know that until Saturday. We’re mostly published overseas.
Beautiful homes…and that porch ceiling..something of beauty. Your friend’s minute of silence was a delight. Something was in the water but on my phone it was too small for me to identify.
Ducks. The footage is fairly low rez, too, I guess because the cell signal is iffy that far north.
You have the knack of showing up with the right stuff at the right time. Amanda’s 60 seconds of silence (popped up full screen on the 27″ monitor I have been in front of nearly all day) was just what I needed.
Stay well.
Cool! Glad to hear it, Brad. I could watch that clip on a loop. Very relaxing.
The headwaters of the river are in northern NH, on the Canadian border.
Nice tonner! We never had the six as an option up here in the colonies. Only the correct! V8 flathead/sidevalve engine.
What year is your tonner, Bill? I used to know.