Hwy 11 in Ohio

Friday morning I leave the house at 8:00 am, waving goodbye to my wife Karen and son Skajler who are just now heading for Skajler’s school bus stop. The weather is wavering between drizzly rain and light falling mist. In Three Rivers, Michigan I stop to top off with gas. And already it is starting to look like the rain may give out just a bit further south.

I only have today in which to travel to Ivy Lea. It is a fairly long way. So I will not have time for a very scenic route. Nor do I plan to take many pictures. But still I have brought the Mavica. I start out due south to pick up the fastest route I know, I80/I90, just over the Michigan state line, a main artery for all traffic east and west in the northern USA. They call this stretch of it the Indiana Toll Road. And just here as I head for the toll booth I ride out from under what little remains of the rain. In the rear view I can see that had I taken I94, chances are I would be plowing through the thick of a storm. Lucky choice.

Traffic is moving along quite nicely, somewhat over the limit, I won’t say how much. I am making good time. Before I know it Indiana is past and here they call this same road the Ohio Turnpike. I see something interesting in the way of safety equipment. There are some very large infrared sensors mounted on tall poles along the side of this highway: animal detectors. Big yellow lights will flash if a deer should approach the road at night. I stop for breakfast at an oasis. It is safe now, I think, to shrug out of my rain suit. I could have done so a little ways back. But sometimes, you know, that makes it rain again. So I had waited until there were no clouds left to observe me.

Now well along the top of Ohio I am looking for I80 and I90 to split. I am wanting to take the northern fork. But I miss it somehow. Must have been passing that line of trucks when the signs went buy. No problem, I’ll just take another further on.

There are not so many exits off this turnpike. And what with traffic I get crowded out from the next one too. And besides, I don’t really feel like riding through Cleveland. Who knows what kind of construction there might be? So I overshoot east and a little south and do not pull off until Youngstown, choosing Hwy 11 north. Probably cost me twenty minutes but still it is a spot of luck. Highway 11 is very pleasant, especially so considering as how it’s a four-lane divided road. There is hardly any traffic. And what little there is is moving along as well or better than the turnpike. It is even kind of scenic.

I pick up I90 again at the top end of Hwy 11. And from here it is a very short ride into Pennsylvania. It has been fairly windy for quite some time now. But here it is starting to pick up some more. I am riding along the northwestern tip of Pennsylvania, which, were it not so stubby might be referred to as a pan handle. It runs out quick enough and I am into New York.

I stop for gas and a little snack just across the line. It is shift-change time and I have to wait while they fiddle with the cash register. There were a couple of Honda Shadows parked when I rolled up. They are still there when I finally get to pay my bill. I stroll over and say hello. The wind is really whipping it up now. The others are, as happens, riding to Texas from Ottawa, whereas I am on my way in the general direction of Ottawa. They ask if this is Pennsylvania, yet? I say not quite. And they ask if it is always so windy here? I say I’m not from here, but that I very much doubt it. We talk bikes a bit. Funny, here are two Canadians taking one very long ride into the USA, and here am I taking my second of two long rides into Canada. All too soon we head out going opposite ways.

All I know of New York is what I sometimes see on TV. And that is always some big city, you know the one. Here it is pretty rural. The road is quite nice. Not too very crowded just at the moment. The view is open, not too very flat, and with things now and then to look at: some farms and vineyards, little and medium sized towns. I am hardly very far south of Lake Erie here. But I can not see it at all. And it is starting to grow late, with evening coming down. I will have to remedy that on the way back.

Soon it is dark. And the traffic is getting tight the further I head east. But still it is moving along fairly briskly. If not for all the trucks crowding in I could enjoy it more. Off and on it looks as if it might sprinkle on me. But it doesn’t much. Just a bit of falling mist for a couple of minutes once every hour or so. I just duck down behind the lexan for a bit. No problem.

It is around tenish when finally I hit Syracuse. At least this time I am watching the signs. I make all the right exits and do not overshoot at all. Some of the signs here are annoyingly weather worn and hard to read at night. I take the opportunity of a convenience store to top off with gas and down a Jolt cola.

Now I am heading on I81 north, which will take me right where I need to be. Only problem is that the wind has grown horrendous, very high and oh so gusty. And since I am now heading north, that wind is coming at me dead sideways. I am getting blown around pretty good. Only time I remember it worse was back when I was just nineteen and rode a Honda 450 DOHC twin.

At that time I was in the Navy and stationed on Okinawa. Typhoon Therese was whipping over the island. Aaron Sissom and I were thinking of taking the bikes out into town before they might lock us all into our barracks. We heard on the radio that Therese was just then upgraded from class one to class two. So we ran out, hopped on the bikes and got out the gates just in time. We saw the Marines shut the gates of Kadena AFB behind us.

Arron and I split company sometime later and he got back to base ahead of me by some hours. Even the bars were battening down when finally I headed on back, there being nothing at all left to do. By then Therese had ratcheted up to a solid Class III typhoon. The steady winds were gusting around a mean of some 80 mph. I remember going around one corner and having to lean the wrong way, the rain drops like bee stings on my bare hands as they slanted to earth at a near horizontal. The Marine guards did not much appreciate having to trudge out from the guard shack and into the storm just to open the gates for some idiot soaked to the skin on a motorcycle. I thought those guys were supposed to be tough? Oh, well...the memories. This night will be another!

Now, this here wind is not so bad as that. Perhaps only a little more than half. And the Royal weighs like two or three 450 Hondas. Perhaps I am only complaining for getting old, nearing fifty instead of on the good side of twenty. But I find myself fighting these gusts for some hours longer that when I was out in that typhoon. Happily there is not any rain to speak of. But on the other hand there is traffic. I remember none whatever about late that night on Okinawa. Here there is also construction, or rather the remnants of construction, those concrete barriers along the side of a single lane. And it is rural and very dark. I do not see much outside the one big and two smaller lit up circles from my headlights. It is fall and a lot of leaves have dropped. There is a regular horizontal migration of things suddenly appearing in the beams. No few number of really big brown leaves startle me in to fearing I am about to run over some small animal. I am cruising along at or under the limit now, sometimes a fair amount under. Big leaves are also blowing right across my faceshield. At one point I get a really good start. A big, white, plastic, grocery sack appears out of nowhere and goes right past my face.

The cars are not slowing down any. They crowd up right behind sometimes. It is good that there are not very many of them. In a place or two I can turn up the high beams. But it never lasts. Eventually I get to the bridge leading into Canada. There is a toll. It is even windier on the high bridge. I am pretty much all over my lane...and the other lane. But there is no traffic except for just a couple of trucks. And they too are feeling the wind. Nobody wants to pass me, nor I anybody else.

On the other side of that big river again I have no trouble with customs entering Canada. As per routine, they want to know my license is all, and do I have any alcohol, tobacco, etc. I never do.

My destination is so close by that I am there almost in minutes. A quick left turn toward the west and here I am at Ivy Lea. The KOA campground sign is easy to spot. A long driveway which, in the dark, seems to lead nowhere. But how many others can there be? I follow it. Bob Kapitany hears me pull in (admittedly the Royal is loud...an important safety feature). He is walking up as I am about to go looking for him. He leads me over to a little cabin, one of those tiny unheated affairs about the size of my bedroom at home. But I have it all to myself so it’s very cozy. And I can park the Royal right outside my door, a big plus. Once I rode 1133 miles in 23 hours. But only that once, ’cause usually, five to six hundred is right for me. Killing the motor tonight I see 750.6 on the trip odometer. I’d rather have had more time for pictures, not to mention a nicer route and better weather. But surely this is one ride I will not soon forget. I enjoyed it regardless.

Ivy Lea KOA Castle 8x zoom

Today is the first day of our President’s Meeting, so called. Not everyone is a president of their respective center. Each has a different constitution. As head of our own local group I was appointed Coordinator by Rinpoche, a post I’ve held for more than four years. Still, it is all the same. We have work to do. I won’t go into details as it has nothing to do with motorcycle touring. If you are interested, click here for info about our meditation center and sister centers.

And later this same afternoon, Bob Kapitany shows us all around the area. This is the Thousand Islands region of the St. Lawrence River. On this side is Canada and on the other the USA. And in between there really are a thousand islands, more than a thousand actually. Some of the islands are so tiny that the tiny little house on it takes up more than half of all the real estate. Some of the larger islands have actual castles on them.

Sunset

Day three is not described. Two days our meeting lasted. We got a lot done. It is early evening on Sunday and I have checked out of my cabin and packed the bike. The light is not good but I would still enjoy a bit of scenery before it grows dark. So instead of taking Hwy 401 west straight to Toronto I take Hwy 2 along the river. I might like to stop for quite a few pictures. But the light will not hold. And I am needing to be in Toronto before it gets too very late. I have an invitation from Rinpoche to spend the night at the Gaden Choling meditation center rather than at some motel. It is a chance not to be passed up. A very special atmosphere there. I would be rude to arrive so late as to get Rinpoche out of bed to answer the door.

Just a little ways along I stopped to capture the none-too-glorious sunset. The clouds, at any rate, give an interesting pattern. And as usual with the Mavica, the colors are muted. A new camera is going to have to make it onto my shopping list before I head out on another trip.

It is late, but not too late when I pull into Toronto. I have been here before, but in a car and coming the other way. But I have very good instructions on how to find it from this end. I am on Christie Street and at the center with no fuss at all. Rinpoche is still up and I get settled in nicely.

American Falls Canadian Falls Buffalo

Come morning I am up early. Rinpoche is still upstairs. I expect that he is meditating. I take advantage of the inspiring surroundings and do similar. Some time later I can here movement from upstairs in the kitchen. I ask Rinpoche if I may buy him breakfast. A prior time he had insisted on picking up the tab, which is hardly proper. Now is my chance to level the scale, and to enjoy an unhurried conversation with my guru and no interruptions. It is a rare opportunity which I make the most of.

Morning has well advanced when I reload the bike and pull out onto Christie Street again. I head west, of course. Kind of undecided on how best to go. The weather looks iffy. The sun is shining most of the time. But it is shining from in between some few heavily laden clouds. I put off making a decision.

Come the southern end of Lake Ontario I decide to head towards Niagara Falls. I had been to Niagara with my wife and son earlier in the year. But I had lent the camera and forgotten to get it back before we left. So while my wife has 35mm photos, I did not get any digital ones. Here is my chance. And besides, that time we were in a car, so it hardly counts, does it?

Some of this road looks familiar from that prior trip. I see that big, old-time, sailing ship at the southwestern tip of the lake. The weather continues to hold as I ride the QEW. I am very lucky. I can see rain here and there in the distance, and it sprinkles on me just in a very few places. But mostly it is nice, even sunny. I get to Niagara and the sun is still shining. I ride past the falls, make a U-turn and ride back past again. Then I ride up the hill and stop for lunch at the Jade Gardens, a Chinese lunch buffet kind of place.

Fortified, I head on down again to the falls. Been here, seen this. But still it is very, very impressive. And now in the cooler October air there is not nearly so much of a crowd. I get some photos, then I ride the Rainbow Bridge over into the United States. People keep telling me horror stories of being trapped for hours to get into the country from Canada. I remember passing a mile long queue at the Soo Locks on my way out last August. But again, as into Idaho from British Columbia two months past, I have no troubles. None at all. This time my wait is in a line just a few cars long. Then there are the usual question as to my nationality, why I was in Canada, all of that. Then I am on my way.

I fully expect to get lost somewhere in Buffalo but it does not happen. I had decided to ride along Hwy 5 and see Lake Erie. I find my way to there no problem. There are some toll bridges and highway switches but it is all well marked and easy to follow.

This is scenic in its own way. Not rural in the least. But Buffalo looks to be an interesting city. There are some shipyards for cargo boats, a lot of factories old and new. And there is Lake Erie itself. In due course I make my way to Hwy 5, and thence to the scenic trailway along the lake.

The so-called trailway is a paved, two-lane road. Speed limit dips down to 35 mph in places. But it is very nice as views go. I stop at a boat ramp at one point and take a photo across the lake back toward Buffalo.

After a while the scenic trail grows ever less scenic. Very wealthy mansions are now blocking my view of the lake. And in places a high wall or row of trees even blocks my view of the mansion. At Irving, NY I fill up with gas and decide to make my way back to I90. From there it is the same old, same old all the way home. The traffic is flying. I make good time through Pennsylvania, Ohio and Indiana, getting colder by the mile. I am glad to have brought extra layers for under the leathers.

I get home pretty late. The odometer reads 29,880 miles on my 1997 Royal Star as I back her into the garage, quite possibly for the winter. And my Karen has kept dinner warm in the oven for me. I love to ride but very much miss my family any time I’m away. It is good to be home. I expect this has been my last hurrah for the season. It was a good one.

Ĝan Ŭesli Starling
Kalamazoo MI