7/31/15 White Mountain Birthday

 The gift of a perfect riding day is all Jules wanted for his birthday, and he got it. 

 Through the Green to the White, we ran mountains all day. From evergreen to birch,  these hills lived up to their names. 

A sunny morning in Londonderry woke us with near perfect temperatures. Riding out, we saw ski trails yearning for snow as we ran east toward New Hampshire on Route 11. Taking us past deep forests and then into quaint towns, this road reintroduced us to the charms of New England.

Crossing the Connecticut River, we entered our next state for the day and rode into a lake and mountain patchwork that we followed for the rest of the day. Stacked white birch surrounded us and belied the altitude. Not until lunch at the Winslow State Park, when the vista opened up and we gazed out on mountains ranging into the horizon, did we realize fully how close to heaven we were.

Serious lake action began as we headed north on 3 through Tilton toward Laconia. The traffic picked up and canoes, kayaks and paddle boards rode proudly on passing cars. The frenzy of T-shirt, water toy and souvenir shops screamed Jersey Shore to us. Yes, here we were at an inland vacation Mecca, complete with small spaces of sand loaded with sun worshipers. Weirs beach on Lake Winnipesaukee  overwhelmed  us as we cautiously picked our way through swim-suited families, heading to the water or the shops along the road. This was a return trip for us as we had been to Laconia and Weirs Beach for the Laconia Motorcycle Rally years ago. Then it had rained and the string of roaring bikes, idling into town and along the beach had presented a totally different scenario than today.

The "shore traffic" continued as we whittled at the road on our way to Mt. Washington. Too late in the day to climb the "hill" we settled in North Conway, had a delicious Irish dinner at an amazing find called May Kelly's and ended our birthday celebration, glad to have a room in a town lit up with "No Vacancy" signs.

For the last four years we have spent Jules' birthday on the road. No gift can compare to the joy he feels as he throttles into a curve on a mountain road. I am honored that I have been invited to his party and can be part of his celebration of life. It's been one hell of a bash!

Our Londonderry Home

Looking for Homer and Marge

The White Mountains

Blueberry Birthday!

Winslow State Park

Wildwood of the North?

Lake Winnipesaukee 

7/30/15 Out the door; Up the road

We are on our way!

Leaving home at 5:00, we ate the turnpike for breakfast, and escaped the snarl of commuter New York by coasting up the Parkway. Soaring through the Palisades on Bear Mt. Parkway, a duet of relieved sighs sang from us as we flew free. Our trip had finally begun!

The Taconic Parkway escorted us to Connecticut where we cut the corner to Massachussets. Our first picnic of the trip took place by a lake (of course) in a camp. We realized how fortunate we had been all day, riding under the clouds, when a blast of sun jumped the heat index by double digits and we scrambled for shade.

With no clear direction, we wandered north after lunch and found what we are always seeking - a lonely road. Route 8A beautifully trundled us into Vermont, toward the  Green Mountains and famous ski slopes named Snow and Bromley. Cooled by a light rain, we rode through unsuited, delighted by the change in weather. By Londonderry, light rain became heavy and a gas stop with a friendly attendant brought us to our matress for the night.

We have met the beast of Metropolis and conquered it today. Riding unhindered through angst-driven commuters, we burst through into the serene and healing mountains of the Northeast. Revived by the breath of the Berkshires and the Green Mountains, we rest in anticipation of all that is to come.

Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike

First Picnic of the trip

Obviously, we are in Vermont.

7/29/15 Back On The Road Again

How far north can we go to beat the heat? As far as we want, and because the North Pole is not motorcycle friendly, we're heading toward Nova Scotia.

The siren song of cool ocean breezes, rolling seashide byways, seals and delectable mussels calls us from our steam pot of New Jersey into  a virgin ride to Canada. Tomorrow we will wake and beat the sun to labor through the teeming corridor of the east, escaping once again on our Rascal, our friendly dragon, to fly on a new adventure. I am so anxious to leave, I watch my boots waiting for me by the door, ready to lift off. Please fly with us!