Thursday, June 30: I love Maliprop's

Thursday, June 30, 2016: Made it to Maliprop’s.

I woke up Thursday morning to a chilly dawn on the mountain. I decided to have my protein shake and head down the mountain to Asheville, to make my pilgrimage to Maliprop’s Bookstore, the best bookstore and café in the entire world. I’ve been to Nirvana in Barnstable, and I have been to Shakespeare & Co in Paris, and Maliprop’s is better than both combined. They have readings by best-selling authors almost every day, and authors go out of their way to read at Maliprop’s. A big sign in the front window proclaims, “PEACE, LOVE, BOOKS.”

Black Jack in front of Maliprop's in Asheville.

They have a café that makes the best chai tea latte I have ever had—not to mention a variety of hot and cold drinks and pastries. Best of all, they have free wi-fi, and my computer connected with no problem, enabling me to post the last week of blog posts.

I love Maliprops!

Wednesday, June 29: Pee and politics in North Carolina

Wednesday, June 29, 2016:

Brandon at his office.

I woke up about 6:30 in my tent after a chilly, peaceful night. Getting dressed is a challenge in my little tent, but I managed to put on all clean clothes. Brandon showed up just after 7, and we walked up to the Inn and had a nice breakfast with a spectacular view. There was a thick layer of fog in the valleys, making them look like lakes. After breakfast we took a walk around the campground, and then sat at my picnic table and meditated together. I gave Brandon a ride back up to the inn on the back of my motorcycle.

Then I did a load of laundry at the camp store. While it was washing, I tried to use the free wifi connection at the inn, but for some reason it wouldn’t work. I tried again on a different hotspot at the camp store, but I still couldn’t connect my laptop. The reasons for the problems weren’t even consistent, so I couldn’t diagnose the problem. Finally, I figured this is a fine time and place to just forget about the internet. I had hoped to post a blog on my travels, but I guess that wasn’t meant to be. I can still write, as I am doing here.

And here I am in North Carolina, the state whose legislature and governor passed HB2, the infamous “bathroom bill.” I feel a little guilty even visiting the state after people like Bruce Springsteen announced a boycott of the state to protest this hate bill. Of course I don’t think my presence or absence will have the same impact as “The Boss.”

It seems like America is divided. On one hand are people who want to love and accept other people knowing that the things that unite us are far greater than the things that divide us. On the other hand are people who are afraid of people who are different. To say “America has never been so divided” is nonsense. Both the 1860s and the 1960s prove otherwise.

But this “bathroom bill” is certainly a highpoint in absurdity. Apparently it decrees that people must use the bathroom that corresponds to the gender they were assigned at birth. Damn, I came to North Carolina and plum forgot to bring my birth certificate! Will there be state troopers are every men’s room door asking to check my gender assigned at birth? Perhaps I could just show them my wiener? (I’ve never typed that word. before; I wasn’t sure if it was w-e-i… or w-i-e…)

I suppose what the Republican legislators were attempting to do is protect the delicate women of North Carolina from the perceived dangers associated with having to share a bathroom with someone who was assigned a male gender at birth and transitioned to life as a female. I am not sure, but I believe some of these people have their penises surgically removed. Surely they can’t be the problem. I’m really not sure what the problem is.

I was once a teenage boy who was looking for every advantage I could find in “picking up chicks.” Somehow changing my identity to live my life as a female never occurred to me as a path to sexual conquests.

The only bathroom law I ever heard about when I was young was the unstated rule that guys don’t talk to each other in men’s rooms. Apparently women chat it up all the time while tinkling, but men stare straight ahead, never glancing from side to side, and certainly not talking to each other. I suppose that policy probably grew out of the homophobic culture of the 1950 and ‘60s in which I grew up.

The men’s room I use at work is near the English Department at a community college, and several of my colleagues are gay men. They aren’t afraid to talk in the men’s room. Maybe I need to brush up on my urinal conversation skills. But the truth is that I have been peeing with gay and straight, and transgender men all my life—I just never knew, nor did I care. Urination and fornication are so widely separated in my mind that it’s hard to believe that they may involve some of the same body parts.

If the esteemed legislators of the Tar Heel State (I had to work that in) are so worried about bathroom sex, they have a serious problem. They would need to make sure that nobody entering a men’s room is interested in having sex with a man, and nobody entering a women’s room is interested in having sex with a woman. So we could have a straight-men-and-lesbians’ room, and a straight-women-and gay-men’s room. Uh oh, what about bisexuals? I think they’d have to pee in the woods.

Of course there is nothing funny about rape, sexual assault and sexual harassment. Those crimes should be strictly enforced and severely punished wherever the violations occur. But, please, North Carolina, if a guy realizes he is really a gal, and he changes his whole life to dress, act, and present as a woman, please let her go into whatever stall she chooses, close the door, and do her business in private.

Tuesday, June 26: Mount Pisgah: The Promised Land

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

When I pulled out my Designer Whey protein powder to make breakfast, I discovered some little critters had chewed a hole in the plastic bad I put the powder in, plus an outer plastic bag. Fortunately, I am a guy, so I brought duct tape. I transferred the powder to some plastic cups, parched the holes with duct tape, made my breakfast and returned the remaining powder to the patched bags—good as new. Of course, there are going to be some very strong mice around Orchard Gap.

Unfortunately, a light rain continued as I headed south on the Parkway into North Carolina. Several people said it was supposed to let up, but the fog and rain continued. Although my cell phone is mostly protected by my windscreen, it seemed to be getting wet, so I found a safe place and pulled to the sided of the road to put my cellphone in my pocket. Within a minute, another motorcyclist pulled up beside me and asked if I was OK. I gave him a thumbs up, and he was on his way. Once again, I was grateful for the fraternity of bikers.

There used to be a restaurant at Doughton Park, but it has since closed. There were, however, a few workers and a park ranger in the parking lot. I asked the ranger where I could get warm and dry. He suggested a restaurant in Laurel Springs, just off the parkway a couple of miles away.

“They should be opening just about now,” he said, checking his watch. I was the first customer of the day at the Station’s Inn Bar and Grill—“Proudly serving the best people on two wheels.” The owner said that when his wife got in, she would be making her special broccoli and cheddar soup. It is excellent. I am enjoying it now, as I write this entry.

And—finally—the rain has stopped. I’ll be getting back on the road.

The afternoon was much better. The rain stopped, and the sun came out. I stopped at my favorite waterfall along the parkway, enjoyed the Lynn Cove Viaduct—a bizarre bridge suspended on the side of Grandfather Mountain, When I got to Little Switzerland (where I will be spending two weeks at the Wildacres Writers Conference) I calculated my gas mileage and decided to go into Spruce Pine for gas. The nearest gas station is in front of a giant Wal-Mart with a Subway sandwich shop. I enjoyed the sandwich, but not the intensive dose of civilization.

When I got back to my motorcycle I didn’t have the key. Uh oh. I retraced my steps, and when I got to the Subway I asked if anyone had found a lost key. A young man’s face lit up and he dashed to a backroom and brought my key with great delight. I was even more delighted than he, and I thanked him profusely

THe View from the Pisgah Inn dining room is spectacular.

I rolled into the Mount Pisgah area about 6 p.m.. I set up camp in one of the few campsites not already taken. The text messaging was working fine, and Brandon and I agreed to meet for breakfast, since he was working an 11-to-7 shift. I had a delicious dinner up at the lodge as I watched dusk fall over the mountains. The view from the dining room is more wonderful than I remembered.

I bought a hooded sweatshirt at the gift shop, which I appreciated late at night when it got cold in my tent.

Monday, June 27: shelter from the storm

Monday, June 27: Peaks of Otter to Orchard Gap

I slept late in my luxurious bed in the Peaks of Otter Lodge, made my protein shake, and packed up. I indulged in a fresh cinnamon roll at the lodge snack shop before taking off. I admired an unusual looking camping trailer, and the woman beside it said her husband built it by hand and made it suitable for off-road travel. Then she leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper: “We like camping away from other people.”

“So do I,” I replied.

We wished each other safe travels and drove off. The stretch of the Blue Ridge through southwestern Virginia is spectacularly beautiful. It is a smooth two-land blacktop road with almost no intersections, plenty of curves, and amazing mountaintop views around every corner. A few rhododendron (or maybe they are mountain laurel) are still in bloom.

I saw several healthy looking Virginia white-tailed deer. One large doe looked right at me, and seemed to say, “This is our mountain. You are welcome to ride through it, but please do not disturb our peaceful lifestyle.”

Once, when the parkway dipped into a small mountain valley—called a hollow, or “holler” down here—I waved at a farmer on his John Deere green tractor. He waved and seemed to say, “This is our holler. You are welcome to ride through it, but please do not disturb our peaceful lifestyle.”

Farther down the parkway, I passed a farm with a herd of cattle. One cow looked at me and seemed to say, “Moo.”

The timing was perfect for me to stop for lunch at a restaurant next to the historic Mabry Mill, which E.B. Mabry operated from 1910 to 1935. Today the National Park Service maintains it, and they continue to grind grain and preserve all the associated operations as a demonstration farm, so future generations can appreciate what old-fashioned milling was like.

After a delicious lunch, I returned to my bike, and chatted with a nice couple from Washington who had just pulled in on a Harley. “Do you have a weather ap?” asked the man. He said he just got notification from the National Weather Service that a series of fast-moving cells with severe thunderstorms were moving through the area. He said they got rained on a few minutes ago.

We were at mile marker 175, and my plan had been to continue all the way to a campground at mile 240, but I didn’t want to ride in the rain, let along get caught in a severe thunderstorm. I also didn’t want to camp in the rain. Then I looked at my map and saw that Orchard Gap was only 20 miles away at mile 195. I remembered some terrific cabins in Orchard Gap, where I had stayed once before. I made it to Orchard Gap with only a light rainstorm on the way.

The cabin is wonderful! First of all it is dry. But it also has features like air conditioning, cable TV, a stereo, a kitchenette, and a Jacuzzi for two. Furthermore, it has a front porch with a view of the mountains and a porch swing and rocking chair. Best of all, the price is only $95—far less than what I paid for the motel rooms on this trip. I landed in heaven!

 

In the early evening I walked down the hill to the little store, and as I did, a cloud rolled in. I was very glad that I wasn’t trying to navigate the parkway in such a thick fog.

I had a great meditation on the porch, a relaxing soak in the Jacuzzi, and a good night’s sleep in the comfortable bed.

Sunday, June 26: Loft Mountain to Peaks of Otter

Sunday, June 26: Loft Mountain to Peaks of Otter

Today was the kind of ride I had in mind when I planned the trip. I covered the southern end of Skyline Drive and the northern end of the Blue Ridge Parkway. Breaking camp and packing up took longer than I expected. I had a nice chat with the man in the next campsite, who had a beautiful recumbent bicycle.

“That’s a beautiful bike,” I told him.

“So is that,” he replied, pointing to my motorcycle.

Beth and me at a Dixie Chicks concert.

At the southern end of the Skyline Drive, just where the Blue Ridge Parkway begins, there is a visitor’s information center, where I was astonished to hear they offered free wifi. I brought in my laptop and write for about an hour, and then did something wrong that deleted every entry in my entire blog. (I think there were five or six.) Deep gratitude to my wonderful girlfriend, Beth, who managed to find a copy of the blog with those entries (al except the last), and copy them into an e-mail to me. Thank you, Beth!
 

Getting into Peaks of Otter was like coming home. I had a hot shower a good meditation, and a hot dinner at the beautiful restaurant. There was a wedding taking place at the Peaks, and I can’t think of a more beautiful place for a wedding.

View of Sharp Top across Abbott Lake from Peaks of Otter Lodge.

 

In the evening I watched the sunset behind Sharp Top Mountain and saw a deer stroll past the lake. Then I watched a little girl chasing lightning bugs. As I drifted off to sleep, I big old bullfrog croaked me a lullaby

Saturday, June 25: Shyline Drive.

Blogging offline

Saturday, June 25: Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you…”

Today I rode from Pine Grove, Pa., to Loft Mountain, at the southern end of Skyline Drive in Shenandoah National Park.

A man painting the outside of the motel got me headed in the right direction, and I cruised along Swatera State Park, where I crossed the Appalachian Trail, and even saw a “through hiker” (that’s what they call folks hiking the whole length from Georgia to Maine) with a huge pack on his back.

Going through Dauphin County, I laughed out loud remembering Benjamin’s first pun. We used to go into Dauphin County to go to his favorite restaurant—a Friendly’s. He was only about 4 or 5, and he had a squirt gun shaped like a dolphin. He pointed it at me and said, sternly, “I’m the Dolphin County Sheriff.”

Central Pennsylvania brought back lots of memories from the days when I lived there in the 1970s. I rode through Fort Indiantown Gap, where I covered a story about a resettlement camp for refugees from Vietnam after the fall of Saigon. Crossing the Susquehanna River, I remembered covering the Three Mile Island disaster. (The s[I;;ed radioactive water stillhas not been cleaned up.) And riding through Shippensburg, I saw several families riding into town in horse-and-buggies. I don’t know if they were Amish or Mennonites, but they were beautiful looking plain folk. I covered an Amish barn-raising once. They finished it in one day, while an “English” farmer across the road was taking six months to do a similar job. Going through Chambersburg, I was delighted to see Wilson College appeared to be flourishing. I loved covering the story of the time the board of trustees voted to close the college for financial reasons. But a motivated and enthusiastic group of students, alumni and faculty fought back with demonstrations and a lawsuit, and they won!

I love rivers. On Wednesday, I crossed the Cape Cod Canal, The Taunton River, and the Providence River. On Thursday, I crossed the Connecticut and the Hudson. And today, I crossed the Susquehanna, the Potomac, and the Shenandoah—those last two are my favorites.

I had planned to take a mountainous route past Mont Weather, but decided to head directly to Front Royal so I could get onto Skyline Drive sooner. I made it and got there by about 2 p.m. I truly must be the most beautiful road in America. The campground at Big Meadows was full, so I continued south to Loft Mountain, which is my favorite campground in the world. I have loved it since Barbara and I borrowed a tent from the Navy and camped there in 1972. On that first fateful evening, a black bear opened our cooler and ate all our food! I’ve been back many times since.

Misty mountain sunset from the Appalachian Trail at Loft Mountain Campground

After setting up my tiny nylon backpackers’ tent (a far cry from the huge canvas monster from the Navy), I rode down to the Loft Mountain Wayside for dinner. On the way back up, I stopped at the camp store and bought a bottle of water. Then I stopped by the amphitheater because there is usually a cell phone signal there. To my surprise, a folksinger was standing on stage, singing to about half a dozen people. It wasn’t on any program, he just felt like singing, and he was very good.

By then it was almost sunset, so I went to my favorite spot in the world. In fact, when I meditate and try to imagine “my happy place,” It is this spot. It is a rock outcropping on the west side of the Loft Mountain Campground, right on the Appalachian Trail. The sun sets over a seemingly endless series of mountain ridges. I have been there many times. The combination of the beautiful view and the beautiful memories brought tears to my eyes.

Then I climbed into my tent and fell asleep to the sounds of birds chirping and other happy campers talking around camp fires.

 

Reinstatement

Friday, June 24, 2016

June 24 "Here comes the rain again..."

Motorcycles and rain are not a good combination. But I ended up safe and sound, and warm and dry in another motel--so much for my idea of motorcycle camping!

I slept late (8:30), but the morning went very well. Part of the ride was through the Delaware Water Gap National Recreation Area. Back in the '70s, when we lived in Carlisle, Pa., our trucker friend Scott used to tell us about the stretch of road the truckers called "The Ho Chi Minh Trail" because it was so dangerous. That was Route 209 between Milford and Stroudsburg, Pa. Since then, the feds built Interstate 84 for the trucks and turned the Ho Chi Minh Trail into a beautiful scenic road along the Delaware River managed by the National Park Service. Now no trucks are allowed.

link to Delaware Water Gap NPS site

I continued on Route 209 beyond the national park area, and it was more of a mixed bag. I swear I saw a Pocono Mall, Pocono Village, Pocono Estates, Pocono Market, Pocono Liquors, but little sign of the Pocono Mountains themselves.

Outside of the quaint little town of Jim Thorpe, Pa., there was road construction that reduced travel to one lane at a time, controlled by a flagman. He had us backed up into the center of town and out the other side. That put me about an hour behind schedule.

Then, in Pottsville, Pa., a sudden thunderstorm broke out. I took refuge in a Burger King and waited it out. After about an hour, I continued on my way. But I only got about two miles down the road when the skies opened up again. This time I parked under a gas station roof and waited another hour. I was quietly meditating there when a huge clap of thunder and bolt of lightening shocked me out of my reverie. About then a nice woman who was pumping gas at the pump next to me asked where I was headed.

"I was hoping to get to Carlisle, but that's not happening," I replied. "I think I'll find a nearby motel, if this lets up."

"Well, there are lots of motels in Pine Grove," she said, "and it's right on your way." She gave me directions, and off I went.

Just before Pine Grove, a third thunderstorm hit me, but I persevered. I was doing all right until a big truck ran through a puddle in the other lane and splashed me from head to toe. I was so relieved to get to Pine Grove and the intersection with Interstate 81, where there were three motels. I chose the Hampton, and I'm glad I did. It has a guest laundry, a heated indoor pool, and free Internet--hence, this update.

Traveling alone has always had its appeal to me. Although I miss my friends, I enjoy the random exchanges with people like the woman at the gas station who steered me in the right direction, like the friendly waitress at the restaurant last night, and like several guys who stopped by to talk motorcycles when I stop for gas or food.

I also feel a sense of fraternity or comradery with the motorcyclists I pass on the road. We all exchange a friendly wave. It's usually some version of two fingers pointed down, as if to say, "two wheels on the road," or "rubber side down."

I'll continue to keep the rubber side down, but I am a lot more confident about that when it's not pouring rain.

Posted by jwkoncape at 6:38 PM No comments: 

Thursday, June 23, 2016

June 23 Good recovery

First of all, more about Wednesday evening. My gracious host, Dana, took me for a delightful walk around Roger Williams Park. I had already enjoyed my motorcycle tour of the park, but this time, she showed me some beautiful footpaths and we explored more remote and natural parts of the park. I feel like my time in natural surroundings began earlier than I expected. I had a restful night's sleep and a hot shower in the morning, and got under way by 7.

Michele got this shot of me in her driveway just before I put my helmet on.

Today, Thursday, started off beautifully. I breezed through Providence and headed west on U.S. 44, a nice old road through rural western Rhode Island. There was a lot of natural scenery punctuated with small towns. The same pattern continued into Connecticut. I had no trouble finding the home of my old friend, Michelle, in Vernon, Connecticut. Her house overlooks a beautiful pond. I saw lots of birds, including a green heron and a Baltimore oriole. Once again, a touch of Mother Nature's beauty. I enjoyed a lovely meditation sitting on her back patio while Michele was getting ready to go out to lunch--or breakfast--let's call it brunch--at the Vernon Diner.


Then I got back on the road and enjoyed cruising along U.S. Route 202 across rural central Connecticut. But all good things must come to an end, and my riding pleasure did when I approached Danbury, Somehow the turn-by-turn directions I had typed out before the trip let me down. I found myself lost in downtown Danbury in rush hour. I have gone through the city on Interstate 84 many times, but my goal of avoiding highways turned out to be a disaster this time. I probably lost about two hours before I got back on track.

By the time I got to my destination, Fahnestock State Park in New York, around 6:30, the park office and camping office were both closed. The campground looked sad and uninviting. The park's big attraction--a beach on a like--was also closed. There was no place to get food. So I continued on west in search of dinner and a motel. It took a while, but I finally ended up at a very comfortable Holiday Inn Express in Fort Montgomery, N.Y. Even better, I had a delicious dinner at the restaurant next door.

One more thing: I crossed the Appalachian Trail this evening in Fahnestock State Park. This will be the first of many crossings, since my goal is to stick as close as possible to the crest of the Blue Ridge all the way don to Asheville.

All in all, I feel like I rescued what could have been a very uncomfortable evening. Life is good.

Posted by jwkoncape at 7:26 PM No comments: 

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

June 22 Roger Williams Park, Providence

mileage 4836
I decided to make the first day a short, easy shake-down cruise--and so it was. Instead of taking Interstate 195 from the Cape to Providence, I stuck to the back roads, mostly on Route 6 through little towns like Marion, Mattapoisett, and Seekonk. I also went through Fall River, where I stopped at Burger  King for a veggie burger.

My inflatable zafu

Sri Chinmoy

I arrived in Providence in a quick little summer shower, which  I mostly avoided by stopping at a gas station with one of those large roofs over the pumps.I was much earlier than expected. (I had told my very generous host for the evening that, Dana, I didn't expect to arrive until about 7:30) I decided to explore Roger Williams Park, which I remember enjoying when I lived in the area in 1970. It was much more beautiful than I remembered--perhaps they have improved it in 45 years! I was drawn to one particularly beautiful spot with a lake and a man-made waterfall. There was a resident flock of ducks and geese, and a statue I took at first to be St. Francis. But the plaque said it was a statue of Sri Chinmoy (1931-2007) "Dreamer of Peace, Founder of the World Harmony Run." He was both a runner and a meditation teacher--two of my favorite things! I was glad that I brought my inflatable zafu (meditation cushion). So I took off my motorcycle boots, blew up my zafu and sat near the statue of Sri Chinmoy, near the lake, and listened to the sounds of the waterfall and the waterfowl. I had a beautiful meditation that set a nice tone for my trip. I did my usual morning sit before I left, but my mind was lost in planning and anticipation.

I also cruised through Johnson & Wales University looking for free Internet, but their Starbucks was closed for the summer. So here I am at a nearby McDonald's enjoying a lobster roll and an opportunity to update my blog.

Posted by jwkoncape at 3:46 PM No comments: 

June 22 Under way

starting mileage 4737

current mileage 4739
I made it two miles!
First stop: Nirvana Coffee in Barnstable Village for an iced chai tea. Packing up was harder than I expected. I had to pare down my gear, including my favorite hooded sweatshirt. As it is, poor Black Jack is heavily loaded. I stopped after two miles to make sure nothing shifted. All is well.

Posted by jwkoncape at 8:04 AM No comments: 

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

June 21 getting ready

Today I got my latest toy for the trip: a cell-phone mount for my motorcycle. This one is made by Cirro and includes a built-in charger, connected to the motorcycle battery. Jack and the good folks at Cycle Services in Hyannis installed it for me. I wanted to take a picture of it with the cell phone mounted, but I needed the phone to take the picture--modern life.
This afternoon I have to take case of business and make sure all my finances are squared away for the month. I also have to make sure I have everything I need for the Wildacres Writers Workshop, which is the main point of the whole trip. OK, perhaps it is not the main point, but at least it is the destination. Then I'll start loading up the motorcycle with everything I will need for a month.

Posted by jwkoncape at 11:17 AM No comments: 

Saturday, June 18, 2016

June 18 getting ready

I am planning to keep a blog to record my month-long motorcycle odyssey from Cape Cod to Asheville, N.C., and back. I plan to leave on June 22 and return July 22. My companion is Black Jack, a 2012 Honda Shadow 750 motorcycle (named after a beloved cat). Two weeks of the trip will be spent at the Wildacres Writers Workshop in Little Switzerland, N.C.  You should be able to find it at www.jamessmotorcycleodyssey.blogspot.com .

Posted by jwkoncape at 5:37 AM No comments: 

Oops

I just accidentally deleted all my posts. Darn!