I Can See You

More deeply than you might wish to be seen.

Darkened depths from where loneliness rises,
lighted halls you’ve forgotten exist -
both brought to light through flowered irises,
memories, and desires you fight to resist.

iris windows to soulful depths
widen in the darkness to gather the light.

I can see you.

for the future

There are quiet, chilly nights
when no one has words to quiet the soul –
least of all, one’s self.
But there are words from the past –
past thoughts thought on wordless nights –
thoughts that moved through the future and
tonight,
alight.
Yesterday’s words comfort tonight,
And so for the future,
I write…

Where in North America is Uncle Rod? day 23

July 7, 2009
Marion, VA
63,515
212 miles (5,125)

I was thinking today as I rode a 5 hour, 212 miles, that these miles are not like the miles out west that I rode last year. In fact, all the miles I rode this year are quite different than those I rode last year. Here, on the east coast, there are no wide open spaces. If it is not towns and people, like Connecticut last week, it is mountains and switchbacks. Curves that are 20 mph, even on a motorcycle. Last year’s 400-mile day of straight desert riding, is this years 200-mile day of straight up and low-gear downhills. Of Grouse, and Deer, and Wild Turkeys.
I rode from my parents’ house, straight into the country. For 200 miles, I rode narrow 2-lane country roads. Sometimes one lane got lost, and I squeezed through, narrower still.
Across the mountains of Southern West Virginia, I always feel like someone, years ago, drilled holes, from the top, down into the mountains, and planted little towns. There are no places for towns at all, and yet, one descends a steep mountainside, and there is a town. There are always sides of hills missing to make room for Mainstreet. Houses are stuck into hillsides like arrows shot from across the river. One side of each house is one storey tall, the other side is often 3 storeys high, just to find the foundation. Thus, it seems like a huge drill bit, from above just dropped down and drilled out a hole for these towns. Were it not for the fact that this is a coal-rich land, no one could possibly have ever lived here. There had to be a financial gain for carving out communities in places where only birds could reach easily.
Today, I saw no rain. First ride, since I rode from Cape Breton, to the Bay of Fundy, that I didn’t get rain. Today, the temperature was perfect too. I rode into town after I set up camp, and it was quite cool, but all day, the ride was quite comfortable.
For some reason, I expected the up and down, and switchbacks to stop after I crossed in to Virginia. Who knew they would intensifiy?
I’ve never been to Boone, NC, so I was headed in that direction. Nearby, is the tallest point in Virginia, so I thought I might camp there. I made it as far as Marion, VA, where I have actually been, and tomorrow, I will ride into Boone, begin to make my way home.
I had no idea, how many slices of mountains, and long valleys lie in this narrow portion of Southwest Virginia between West Virginia and North Carolina, but I climbed up and back down, several times, with rolling valleys between, before I happened upon this State Park. Only about 10 miles to the south is I-81, but you’d never know there was civilization nearby.
As I mentioned, Southern West Virginia, is tight. Extremely steep mountains, and very very deep valleys. One rides along rivers here, upon roads that are actually hewn from the sides of the mountains. Even the river bottoms aren’t wide enough to accommodate the river and a road, so extra width is extracted by excavation. At 4pm on a July afternoon, the sun doesn’t reach over the mountains, and so it is evening down between the hills. One meanders through mountain shadows for hours before the sun actually sets somewhere behind those hills.
The last couple of hours of incredible motorcycle roads were so freshly paved that they had not yet been painted. Smooth, without gravel, NO traffic, intensely curvy, and up and down. Who could ask for anything more?
I had so wished to get at least a day or two of what I’d planned to get for 21days. Even if it rains all the way home tomorrow, I’ll have today to count for exactly what I needed.
So here, I am, knowing I’ll see Al and kids tomorrow, sitting by a fire, merely 250 miles from home, depending on the route, and enjoying a fire and night sounds of Whip-poor-wills, and frogs. It is a fitting last night of the Windhorse trip.
The Windhorse, by the way, ran beautifully today after having been cleaned a bit, and is resting beside me enjoying the cool mountain, night air.

Where in North America is Uncle Rod? Day 22

July 5, 2009
Milton, WV
63,273
194 miles (4,883)

Rolled into my parents’ at about 2:00pm. Dinner had just been placed on the table. Grilled Salmon, wilted lettuce, and pasta salad. Yum.
I had planned to take an all day ride to get here, heading south from Parsons and then east to get more fun mountain back roads, but alas, it was raining when I packed the bike, so I decided to ride straight home along with my brother. The scenery is exquisite either way, but the riding is less fun on 4 lanes.
It was nice to be here for longer though. I sat around, took a nap, and watched a couple Andy Griffith re-runs with dad.

Where in North America is Uncle Rod? Day 21

July 4, 2009
63,079
99 miles (4,689)

Still in Parsons, but today, I got back on the bike for the first time since Wednesday. My brother and I rode over to Seneca Rocks, and took a tiny mountain road home. Over in Seneca, there were dozens of Harleys parked in front of Yokum’s Store, but standing out like a jewel, was an ’04 BMW R1200 GS. Turns out that about half the bikes there, all black Harleys, were ridden by Germans who’d apparently rented matching bikes for the ride, but the Beemer was ridden by a guy from Eastern Ohio.
We rode rt. 72 back to Parsons, which is about 20 miles of one-lane switchbacks and gravely, steep downhills until it finally descends along the river and comes out at the edge town.
It was raining again this evening, though we had absolutely no rain for our entire ride.
Cindy had taken a canoe ride down the Cheat, so after we returned, Scott and I went over to the river to take the canoe out and tie it on top of the truck.
Before Cindy and Carleigh left to drive back home, Scott and I took a little picnic with them and I played on the slide with Carleigh while Scott and Cindy visited at a picnic table. That was the first time Carleigh decided I was ok, and we had a really good time.
What a wonderful couple of days this has been. It has been a couple decades since Mom and Dad and all three of us young’ins have been assembled in one place without our daily schedules to contend with. Just hours of talking and laughing and no one having to run off to work, or jump up and tend to something. It was really wonderful.

Where in North America is Uncle Rod? Day 20

July 3, 2009
62,980
0 miles (4,590)

Mom and Dad drove up this morning to hang with us. Close behind were Cindy and Carleigh in the Jeep, and Scott on his bike. We visited all afternoon, and then went out to dinner before heading to the fireworks in Thomas at the top of the mountain. The fireworks were spectacular. Who knew that such a tiny town could put on such a show?
I’ve driven through Thomas dozens of times in my life, but I’ve never seen a living soul moving there. I honestly thought it was a Ghost Town. But tonight the streets were packed, motorcycles everywhere, live music, and thick excitement. The dark storm clouds did nothing to discourage the gathering, and though some of the fireworks were actually shrouded by clouds, they were incredibly beautiful.

Where In North America is Uncle Rod? Day 19

July 2, 2009


62,980
0 miles (4,590)

Still raining. After a leisurely, lazy morning, Jodi took me sightseeing. She took me to see Parsons’ swinging bridge, and then up to Olsen’s tower, an old fire tower, high up the mountain toward Thomas. We climbed to the top and shivered from cold winds and rain, and dizzying heights. Despite the heavy fog, we could see forever.

While we were exploring the area near the tower, Jodi saw goofy tree that she wanted to check out. We walked back in the woods through a complete undergrowth cover of ferns to check out the tree. I was taking pictures of various and sundry beauty when I very nearly stepped on a tiny fawn whose mother had hid her among the ferns under a fallen tree. She was doing as she was told and lying completely still until I nearly put my foot down on her, at which point she jumped and ran. I know she would have been obedient and laid there among the ferns for photos had I been clever enough to see a deer within 4 inches of my leg.

I showed her some tricks with the settings on her camera, so we drove over to Blackwater Falls so she could try them out. Ironically, the falls were quite different than they were last night. Apparently, I’d brought the rain with me, as I tend to do, so it had not been raining long when I arrived. Today though, there was a lot more water. Water was spilling over places on the ledge that had been dry last night. A different presentation.


Back at the house, we discussed religion and politics and weather, and the relationship of all three. Originally, the thought that ran as a thread through our conversation, regardless of what we were talking about, was inspired by my commentary on riding in the rain for 3 weeks. I’d followed up a comment with, “well you know what the Norwegians say – ‘there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.’” The more I thought about that statement, the more I realized how selfish I am in my expectations, even my prayers. I don’t often pray to be prepared for what challenges might come along, but rather, that challenges won’t come along. On this trip, nothing has turned out the way I expected. I’ve been mostly physically prepared for what I’ve experienced, but not at all emotionally prepared. Not at all.
It took me a lot of rainy riding days to realize that I was the one who was going to have to give. I could find a dry place and wait it out, but for how long? It has been raining for 3 weeks. Or I could change my expectations to match with reality, and accept that I’m going to keep experiencing something completely different than I’d planned. I realized that in the back of my mind, what I’d been praying for was not weather through which one could ride when properly prepared. I didn’t want to prepare. What I wanted was weather through which I could ride with a single pair of pants and a T-shirt. I wanted the weather to match my choice of clothing. I had no desire to match the weather with raingear.
“Here’s what I want to wear, God. Provide me with weather to make my choice of apparel appropriate.”
I think I’ll spare you the connection that this realization about myself made with the economy and politics. But it occurs to me that there may be much contentment to be found in what is, rather than constantly longing for what is not, or what is not yet. There will definitely be a sunny day – some day.