Oregon

From Idaho I crossed into Oregon. I planned on getting back into the mountains for some camping. On the way I passed through some old towns. This is Baker City.

I have no idea how old this In & Out Burger is, but apparently it’s not as popular here in Oregon as it is in LA. It isn’t open any longer.

Haines, Oregon where there was no gas causing me to backtrack to Baker City.

I stopped to get some food at a local grocery store, when this guy pulled up on this gorgeous 1941 Knucklehead.

His name was Little Dan or Little Bill, I don’t remember except that it was Little “Something”. He told me he had a garage in town where he also had an old Panhead. We talked for a bit. I told him where I was headed to camp. He told me to mind the deer. He hit one up there a few years back.

I was psyched to be back up in some twisty mountain roads.

I camped out at a site under this snowy peak.

I got to break out the hammock for the first time this trip.

It also felt good to scavenge for my own wood and use my saw and tomahawk.

I rode about 60 miles through the twisty rolling mountain roads before coming to this town called Ukiah to refuel. I first stopped at the local grocery store to ask if there was gas in town because I didn’t recognize this place as a gas station when I first passed it. I figured I’d grab a banana while at the store. The old lady who ran the place said, “It’s pretty ripe, just take it.” Thanks!

Then I went to this one pump gas station run by this eccentric, chatty fella. I noticed a lot of rabbits around. He said his dad had a rabbit farm then one day decided to let them all go free, so the town is full of ’em. He also makes these kinetic sculptures to attract business he said. For me it fooled me to thinking it wasn’t a gas station.

I wasn’t far off from the Painted Hills, a place I love to visit. It is beautiful. Unfortunately forest fires blocked all access roads to the place. You can see the haze from the fires in the background.

Then I passed the base camp for the firefighters. There must have been 50 or more tents beyond those first set of trees. It looked like a festival.

Beyond you can see some of the serpentining road that is always a blast to ride on.

There were some fine old architectural specimens out here.

In this town called Shaniko there was this garage full of old vehicles.

I crossed into Washington to shack up for the night.

This Stonehenge on the Washington side of the Columbia River was a Veterans Memorial.

Back on the Oregon side I would ride in and out of rain storms throughout the day. Like Lewis & Clark I would follow the Columbia River west to the coast.

I hid out under the bridge and ate some smoked chinook I bought from the local Native Americans who set up in the adjacent parking lot.

The next stop couldn’t be passed up. It was the Bonneville Dam!

Bonnie meet Bonnie.

The dam provides this mock stream for the salmon to continue their swim upstream to spawn.

You can then go underneath and watch the salmon through glass observation windows. Besides salmon there were these freaky sucker fish. Look at those chompers!

These are the generators inside the dam.

There were numerous waterfalls along Historic Route 30 parallel to the Columbia River. The one below is Horsetail Falls.

This double falls is called Multnomah Falls.

I climbed around a bit at Whakeena Falls.

There was a large group of French folks on an organized bike tour. There was a guide showing them a giant map on the back of the truck above. I am lined up with a bunch of their Harley’s below.

I finally made it to the coast after an on and off rainy day. I had enough time to pitch my tent and go out for some food and supplies and then splashdown. More rain! And more rain. It was a mess, but my tripod and a tarp extend my tent to have a nice vestibule for sitting outside and staying dry.  There were some breaks in the rain and I was wishing I had wood for a fire.

You can see the results of the night’s rain on the road. The beach is to the right just over those tall green grasses then to the left it immediately becomes dense forest.

In the morning a lot of people bailed because more rain was expected so I went from site to site and gathered all the fire wood they left behind. It was cold here at the coast and I wasn’t going to go with out a fire on this night.

This is the forest right behind the campsite.

I camped out for two nights at Cape Lookout State Park along the coast. The second night was because of how wet everything was. The following day was supposed to clear up so I figured I could have time the next morning to let everything dry out.

I woke up in the morning and spread out my tarps, turned the tent upside down and laid out a few other wet items to dry. Then! Kablammy. More rain! Ugh! I had to pack up my wet gear and hit the road.

This is the beach at the campsite. I never had a chance to see it in good weather.

Things cleared up and I finally got a good look at the Oregon Coast.

At the mouth of the Rogue River was this old wreck.

My gloves have gotten pretty roughed up and have a couple holes in the finger tips, so I stopped at a local Yamaha dealer to have a look. They didn’t have gloves that I liked but that assault rifle in the glass case looks nice. I’ll take two.

Idaho

While worrying about my tire in Yellowstone, I thought for sure a day would be wasted getting Bonnie ready to roll again. I figured I would shack up somewhere in the vicinity of the repair. The guys at Rexburg Motorsports were so helpful and efficient I still had plenty of riding time left in the day. I decided I could make it all the way to Boise.

Moving westward I crossed this unusual flat land gusting with wind. It was government land used for experiments. That’s all I knew. It was called the Idaho National Laboratory. Makes the mind wander what could be going on here.

That question was answered when I showed up in a town called Arco. I met a fellow biker named Ron at the local gas station. He was enjoying a cherry slushy after crossing the hot gusty government territory. I asked Ron if he knew why the head of a submarine would be placed in the middle of Idaho? He told me they do a lot of nuclear testing at those laboratories. In fact Arco was the first town in the United States to get their electricity from nuclear power.

After Fueling up in Arco I stopped by The Craters of the Moon National Monument. What you see here is miles of volcanic debris. A land once covered in lava that has cooled leaving this blackened landscape.

Much to my surprise I saw a fellow Triumph traveler in one of the pull offs.

This guy Kinsey had ridden from Seattle to Yellowstone to meet his brother and now he was headed back home.

I had a shot of Kinsey with his bike but for some reason it won’t upload. Sorry Kinsey.

You pass a number of lonely towns along the way. Here an old saloon sits alone.

This beauty sits behind the saloon.

It was a long ride across Idaho to Boise. Just before hopping on the Interstate to make my passage to Boise I saw this tank.

The Idaho State Penitentiary

After waking up in Boise I looked to see if there was anything to see before continuing my journey west. Indeed there was. The Old Idaho State Penitentiary was a functional prison from 1872 to 1973.

This prison started in 1870 as a one cell prison. It grew over time being built with stone quarried nearby by the prisoners themselves. They even helped design some of the buildings.

There were large riots here in 1971 and 1973 over the living conditions. This was the dining hall designed by a prisoner who killed himself upon his release. It also was burned down during the 1973 riot.

This old sign sits weathering away next to the prison barn.

This was the women’s ward built outside the prison walls.

This is a cell on death row.

After vacating the death row cell an inmate would stand on that gray square with a rope around his neck. The executioner would pull that lever to the right.

The prisoner would then drop to this room below ending his life.

A seventeen foot wall surrounds the prison with a guard tower at each corner.

This building called the Bishop’s House sits outside the prison.

On to Oregon!

Yellowstone

After fueling up south of Independence Rock, I said later to Karl and Quinton and headed Northeast toward Yellowstone. It was further than I realized as are most places out west.

When I arrived in Yellowstone the sun was going down. When the sun drops in Yellowstone, it gets cold. Real cold. I set up my tent in the dark. I wasn’t real pleased with my site. It was very much in the open. I like some trees to surround my site. But in Yellowstone I didn’t plan on spending much time in the campsite.

Yellowstone Falls.

There is a lot of wildlife in Yellowstone but pelicans came unexpected to me.

Here an elk sat basking in the sun.

The upper part of Yellowstone Falls.

Many bison warm themselves by the various geysers about the park.

I was taking photos of three bison and was nearly one of those idiots you see on YouTube. One of the three had wandered off and I lost track of him as I photographed the other two. I had my earplugs in from riding and did not notice the third bull had returned. Fortunately I did hear someone in the parking lot yell “Look out!” I turned to see this huge beast charging at me! I ran like mad and escaped his wrath, but it was a close call!

Yellowstone is a beautiful place. This pool is deep and clear. It looks so welcoming, but it would boil you into a nice soup if you took a dip.

This geyser makes sounds like a breathing dragon.

I was watching this osprey fly around above. Then I noticed him diving. I was pretty far off, but I was able to capture this shot of the osprey defending his territory against an unsuspecting raven.

I saw more bison in Yellowstone this time than in all my previous visits.

I started to get concerned about my rear tire. When I went for gas I noticed it was completely bald on one side. Also, it was Friday. I knew most bike shops are closed on Sunday and Monday. I needed a tire Saturday. I am not sure it would have lasted another two days of endless riding. I had planned on traveling north into Montana after Yellowstone. I called all the bike shops in Bozeman and no one had my tire size. This had happened on a previous journey when no one in Missoula had my size. One of the Bozeman shops recommended I try Idaho City. No luck! Finally a shop in Idaho City recommended this place in Rexburg, Idaho. They told me they had a Michelin that would fit. So long as they could reuse my inner tube, I was set.

So instead of spending my day on Saturday exploring more of Yellowstone, I had to get up early and head to Rexburg. I had a chance to visit Old Faithful at a good time of day, because the sun was at the right angle in the sky to produce this cool rainbow.

I made it to Rexburg to see this huge bike and motosports shop. The people here were great. I talked for a while with an employee named Eugene and then one of the co-owners Jared. Jared is Mormon or LDS as they say. That stands for Latter Day Saints. He told me Rexburg is one of the most populated LDS towns in the country at 98%. In the photo below you can see the temple in the background to the right of the shop.

I unloaded Bonnie and left her in the hands of the people here in Rexburg. Besides a new rear tire I need my chained tightened up too.

It’s always strange to see someone else on my bike. Here is Jared taking her in for service.

This shop had a huge stock of bikes and accessories.

They took her in and got right to work.

With a new rear tire I could confidently continue my journey. This is a great place for your motorcycle needs. I highly recommend them if you are in the area.

http://www.rexburgmotorsports.com/

As a result of having to go south to Idaho for repairs, I changed my planned route. I would head west from here.

Fort Laramie and Independence Rock.

When I left off in the last post I was whining about my BS afternoon in Nebraska with bee stings and bird guts. And even though I knew the following day was going to be stormy, I was well rested and ready to take it on. When I woke up I stared at the doppler radar endlessly. On this day there would be no way to avoid riding into a storm. And some of these storms were whoppers! The previous night’s weather report said it would be raining first thing in the morning. Fortunately it hadn’t started yet when I got going and came across this old church. At least I thought it was a church. When I pulled over to have a closer look, a pick up truck pulled up and a big old grizzly looking guy named Danny leaned out and told me it was an old schoolhouse.  Danny hopped out and lit a cigarette. He told me he rides too then showed me the colors on the back of his vest. We talked a bit, then I went inside to have a look.

As I crossed the border from Nebraska to Wyoming I passed through my first storm of the day. It wasn’t that bad. It gave me a chance to try out my rain gear. I was trying a new glove technique. Everything was holding up fine except the waterproof boots did not keep the feet dry. The rain let up and I saw Fort Laramie was nearby. I had passed this way before in the opposite direction. But at the time I was high-tailing it north to get to Sturgis before dark, so I never stopped.

Fort Laramie

Fort Laramie began as a private fur trading fort in 1834. As America expanded westward conflict with the native people caused a shift in the fort’s use. It became the largest military post in the US.

Fort Laramie was comprised of trappers, traders, Native Americans, missionaries, emigrants, soldiers, miners, ranchers and homesteaders all interacting.

Below is the prison.

A diorama of the fort as it was in the 1800’s.

Upstairs in this building was the soldiers barracks.

There was a bar with a pool table.

This bridge, built in 1875 crosses the North Platte River on the way to Fort Laramie.

From the visit to the fort I was headed north away from the obvious storm to the south. I rode on for a while thinking I was out of harms way. No such luck. I got slammed. It was bad but I plowed through it. After a short while you realize that you are fine and start to enjoy it a bit. Conquering the storm is character building. But this storm was getting worse. I made a stop to get gas and have a look at the radar on my phone. I did not like what I was seeing. I needed to get to Casper then go south and find camping. A storm was increasingly growing as it headed toward Casper. It looked real bad. I figured I would time it so that the red eye of the storm would have crossed Casper by the time I was arriving. I was about an hour or so away. I decided camping was out of the question. I would find a room in Casper for the night. I checked a few hotel sites and found nothing. Nothing! Casper Wyoming is a big town and everything was booked! I was talking to a couple other bikers at the gas stop. They were headed east and told me a tornado had already touched down somewhere on the Nebraska/Wyoming border. As they were leaving one of them handed me a card. He said, “I don’t know if they have any rooms, but if they do, Tammy will give you a good rate.” It had a hand written note to Tammy at the Best Western. I called ahead, there were no rooms. I checked Priceline one last time and BAM! A room available at the La Quenta. I jumped on it. When I got there the guy at the desk said he was surprised to see a name pop up. He thought they were booked. Lucky me. And the next morning as I was looking at the paper in the morning I realized it was a very good thing I waited out that growing storm.

You can see how much rain had accumulated in the parking lot.

The next morning I got up to head over to Yellowstone where I was going to camp for a couple days. On the way was Independence Rock.

Independence Rock

When I pulled up to Independence Rock I was startled by the amount of people climbing all over it. It turns out there were multiple bus loads of these people. I guess they were Mennonite. They were dressed in some traditional garb. Not sure. All I knew was there was a lot of ’em!

Independence Rock was a stop during the time when people were originally emigrating to Oregon, California and Utah. Wagons would start at the Missouri River in the Spring and try to make it to the rock by July 4. Hence the name.

Many of those people stopping here would carve their names in the large granite rock.

There are names all over this rock, but I just climbed to the top, had a look about and split.

When I got to the bike I saw two guys having a look at ‘ol Bonnie. It turns out one of them road here from New Jersey. That’s Quinton from Jersey in the center and Karl on the left. He is from Lead, SD.

When we got to talking, I mentioned I may have a fuel issue. Foolishly I did not fill up before leaving Casper. These guys were very cool and told me they would ride with me to the next town to see if there was a gas station. If not Quinton said he had a tube to syphon a bit to get to the next station.

I call this the Jesse shot. Jesse is another two wheeled traveler who keeps a blog of his travels. I saw him take a down low shot like this so I have to give him props. http://twowheelin.wordpress.com/

Thanks Quinton and Karl for looking out! Maybe see you for Sturgis 75! Now on to Yellowstone!

On the way to Yellowstone I made one more stop in Fort Washakie to visit Sacagewea’s grave. Or is it?

From Ohio to Nebraska

So I split early in the morning from the bike show to beat the storm. My planned route to the southwest quickly turned to the northwest to get above the pending rainfall. I did just that. Eventually the skies cleared and I rode almost 500 miles before calling it a night.

First through Indiana.

The Illinios River in the background.

This water tower has been continuously used by the town of Havana, Illinios since 1889 when it was first constructed.

That hill you see behind Bonnie is actually Rockwell Mound an old Indian mound also in Havana.

An old service station in Carthage, Illinios where I finally stopped after an almost 600 mile day of riding.

In Carthage I was looking for an old jail I saw marked on the map. I stopped to take a photo of this old drug store sign (below) while riding through the town square. After I took the photo I was fiddling about on my phone when I noticed an elderly gentleman in the window watching me. I waved, he waved back. I smiled and went inside. I figured I’d ask him where the jail was. When I did he asked “The Mormon jail?” I said I guess so. He said it was a couple blocks down the road. His name was Bob McHugh and he told me a bit about the sign and the pharmacy. He said that sign had been there since 1937 when his dad opened the place. There used to be a soda fountain there and if you didn’t find a parking spot by 5:30 you were out of luck. Then Bob went to war. When he came back the fountain was gone and it was just the pharmacy. He has been working there since.

I ended up riding right past the jail and back around to the square. I stopped and asked this fella in a wheelchair if he knew where the jail was. He asked, “You mean the Mormon jail?” I said I guess.

Well the map didn’t mention this old jail was Mormon affiliated. It turns out this is a sacred place to them. It is the place where their prophet Joseph Smith was killed or as they said martyred. He was shot 4 times and fell out of that top left window in the house behind his sculpture.

Now, if you have never been to a Mormon site, you have to be aware. There is generally some Mormon preaching involved. There is usually a movie too. I have always said no thank you to the movie. It is still interesting history. The guy in the photo was the guide.

The jail cell on the second floor. The walls are 3 feet thick and only have two slits for ventilation. So the story goes that Joseph Smith and another follower of his were arrested for treason and taken to this prison. In the Mormon faith, Joseph Smith is the guy who translated these golden tablets given to him by some Indian spirit or something like that. Joseph Smith translated these tablets and so began the Mormons. Anyway while he was locked up here an angry mob stormed the place and killed him.

I rode through a couple old historic towns along the Deluth River.

This house had a sign on the side welcoming some ghost hunter. I guess the place is haunted.

I camped in Waubonsie State Park.

Then across the Missouri River and into Nebraska.

Over my shoulder is a crop dusting plane about to swoop around and make a dive to my right. That looks like a fun job!

This was route 2, it runs along the the BNSF railroad line which transports coal in mile long trains which pass in either direction all day.

Then the day turned sour.

I stopped for gas and I put the auto click thing on. Duh! Bad move. It didn’t click off. Gas went spraying. I caught it quickly but damage was done.. My tank bag got it and wreaked of gasoline. Broken Bow Nevada, your gas pump is broken.

I continued down the road and saw a digital clock on a bank. It said Wednesday, July 15. What? I had made a reservation in Yellowstone for Thursday night! I can’t get there in a day! Panic! When I stopped for gas again I checked my calendar. It was Tuesday, July 15. Hey Broken Bow, your digital clock is broken.

Again I continued down the road. Oooooowwwww! A bee stung me on my inner thigh. It felt like it was still pumping. Damn that was a strong sting. I’ve been stung before while riding. It freaks me out that they are able to react at 70 mile per hour to get that stinger in you.

Continuing down the road once again and SMACK! When I saw the bird on the side of the road he didn’t look depressed. But for some reason as I was riding by he flew right into my headlight. WTF!

When that poor bird hit the headlight, greenish yellow guts splattered all over my face mask. It was disgusting! After that I was beat and I got a real shitty hotel room.

This day turned shitty quickly and stayed that way. Well, there is always tomorrow. Before going to bed I checked the weather. Things aren’t looking good. I can expect to spend a good portion of the next day plowing through some large storms and temperatures in the low 60’s. So much for tomorrow.

Goodnight.

Brooks was here…so was Pat

I took a short break from all the fun at the bike show and headed north to Mansfield, Ohio.

Destination Shawshank Prison!

Although Steven King’s story is set in a prison located in Maine, the place where they filmed Shawshank Redemption was a short 10 miles north of the Mid-Ohio Speedway. It is the old Ohio State Reformatory.

The place closed at 4:00. When I arrived it was after 4:00 and the electric gate was shut. However, as I sat there in disbelief a car was exiting. So I rode on in before the gate closed again. I quickly parked the bike and went inside not stopping for anything. So as Andy Dufresne was busy breaking out of Shawshank, I was breaking in.

The place is huge. There are endless hallways and rooms besides the many tiered rows of inmates quarters.

This cell room was made up to have that lived in look.

Most of the cells look like this.

A number of the scenes in the movie were also filmed in a large warehouse made to look like a prison interior, but most of the scenes were filmed on site here at the old reformatory.

Here is the yard often displayed in the movie. The brick buildings that once occupied the land behind the yard are gone. It is now a new prison and photos are prohibited in that direction.

The hotel room where Brooks spent his last days is actually a room in the reformatory.

I was lucky to have seen this room. I had somehow passed it by during my journey through the massive labyrinth of passages. But being the last person in this place, I was found by the guy who goes around to look for anyone left in the building. Fortunately he was a nice guy and when I asked him if he knew where that hotel was where Brook went, he told me the room was here in the building. When I expressed how much I would like to see it he took me up a back staircase so I cold check it out. Someone took the original sign that Brooks and Red had carved into, but it was replaced by the one in the photo below. After Shawshank it was back to the bike show.

 

 

 

AMA Vintage Motorcycle Days

When I arrived at the bike show I scoped out the camping area to find a place with morning shade. There was this spot on the only edge of the tree front that blocked the eastern sunrise.

I asked if the spot was available and got the response, “Not if you don’t mind a lot of noise”, as a guy pointed to a cannon. Perfect! That was Tom who called out. He is seated to the left in the photo below. He was with his son Shawn and a bunch of guys from upstate New York. They offered me a beer and slapped a pork chop on the grill for me. I don’t think I could have picked a better spot.

Another guy Brad built the cool chopper below from scraps and the bike in front of it was salvaged from a collapsed warehouse.

The bike show itself is multi-faceted. There is motorcycle track racing.

There is dirt track racing.

There is a huge swap meet area with endless rows of vendors where you can buy most anything from a vintage bike to hard to find parts.

This guy’s bike needed a bit of CPR before being resuscitated for the dirt track.

Here’s a nice old bobbed out Bonnie.

 

You gotta love a dog in a sidecar.

The AMA had an Indian theme going for this years event.

There was a group of bikes with custom fairing to compete for the best gas mileage.

This old police Honda was for sale.

Check out the custom fairing on this machine.

I saw this same Wall of Death at the Broken Spoke campsite in Sturgis but didn’t watch the show. Now I had the opportunity.

The guy below is riding side saddle with no hands.

It’s too bad the brim of the guy’s hat in front of me got in the shot.

Here we have two riders on the wall. One is on a go cart and the guy on the motorcycle is 67 years old. Amazing!

In the evening some of the kids started drag racing small bikes in the campsite. Well as it turns out the most fun loving kids in the place were the old kids from upstate New York. They quickly got in on the action. Brad joined in with this vintage machine. A number of the fellas had colorful nicknames. They call Brad Mr. Roboto.

And here is Angry Nuts (Roger) ready for a quick start.

Mr. Roboto and son go head to head.

That’s Paul on the right shouting some encouragement. He’s the biggest kid of ’em all. And that’s his son Greg on the left looking like a young Steve McQueen.

Greg, Angry Nuts and Paul line it up.

This kid hopped on Brad’s machine for a free ride. The guy in sprinting position actually held the lead for a decent portion of this race.

Twister joined Angry nuts in the competition.

And here we have Twister, Angry Nuts, Paul and Greg going at it.

Paul joined the only ladies in a race to the disappointed moans and groans of the onlookers. It was also the only race where he finished first.

His expression sums up the great time everyone was having at this event.

Brad brought his old rusty chopper in for some of the fun.

Throughout the night there were people up to their own kind of mischief. Here some folks were doing burnouts on planks of wood.

Some cops showed up to try to quell things down. It only seemed to excite the crowd even more. The New York guys would go on stealth missions to fire off their cannon. That was making the cops nuts. They were looking for the source of the BOOM all night.

The full moon added to the evening’s ambiance.

Sadly everyone knew the night had to end because a big storm was expected in the morning. We all got up just after dawn and started packing it up and I bid farewell to my new friends from upstate and headed west for a nearly 500 mile day.

On the Road Again 2014

It was another approach to Summer with the big question pending…Will I do it again? The answer has come with a resounding “Hell Yeah!”

This year I had someone with me to see me off. Jillian was there to support me which was a good way to start this year’s journey.

I had planned on leaving a day sooner, but it was nice to spend some pleasant time with my lady before taking off. Poor Jillian is at home nursing a broken ankle.

So I hopped on the dreaded Interstate to make up for lost time. Then BOOM, I ran into a storm.

The storm didn’t last too long and left with a rainbow. You can barely make it out just above the truck passing.

I rode until it started getting dark. I pulled off in Somerset, PA, a town close to where Flight 93 went down on 9/11.

I pitched the tent in the dark at Laurel Hill State Park and enjoyed my first night in a thick forest.

The canopy was so thick above that the full moon (actually called the Supermoon this month) was unable to penetrate with it’s bright reflected light. The creatures of the night were out. Besides this little fella below, I was visited by a skunk and a couple of nosey raccoons. I couldn’t get my camera quick enough for those visits. The snail was about my pace this evening.

I rolled through the Amish country of Ohio on my way to my destination.

The destination for this weekend would be the AMA Vintage Motorcycle Days. Oh boy! More to come!

The Battle of Monmouth 2014

CHARGE!

Sunday’s weather was  perfect for a good ride. The Battle of Monmouth reenactment was a good destination. I really haven’t embraced this new riding season this year, but I have a feeling that is soon to end. I hopped on Bonnie and traversed Staten Island to get to New Jersey. I had never taken this route before. I had always seen another crossing to my left as I looked down from the high bridge going toward the Jersey beaches or the now defunct Freehold Triumph where I bought my beautiful Bonnie 5 years ago. This time I was on that small rust bucket of a bridge looking up at the Interstate. I was somewhat dreading going south on Route 9 as it had always been a biker back breaker. Route 9 always had these buckles in the road every 50 to 100 yards that would send a domino effect of vertebrae vibrations that could be paralyzing if you didn’t lift off your seat in time. Much to my surprise New Jersey has smoothed that road out almost all the way to Freehold and Monmouth was a bit to the West from there.

I arrived just in time. When I pulled into the state park I was told the battle was about to begin. I was also informed that my entrance fee was to be half price for motorcycles. I can’t describe how pleased that makes me. I love a good motorcycle discount and always thrilled by motorcycle only parking.

Sure enough, just I got settled in my spot the troops advanced from their cover and BOOM, the canons fired beginning the battle!

They do a good job here. These people who create this scene spend the entire weekend camped out in character.

The battlefield is comprised of American regular army, frontiersmen, British army, loyalists, Hessians and other various soldiers from far off places.

The British Dragoons would attack the canon positions after they would fire trying to take out the infantry manning them.

Smoke filled there air with each loud burst from the canons.

After the battle the troops march in procession back to their respective camps.

I know a lot of people think these reenactments are silly, but when it is done well it really gives insight to a time past.

These two knuckleheads were vastly entertaining. It was like receiving a history lesson from the cast of Monty Python. Someone asked if their accents were real. Real or not they didn’t break character and added that the way we speak here in America is the way the language was changing in England as well. Then during a point of “Enlightenment” people began speaking with what we know as the British accent to sound more upper class and it stuck. I will have to investigate that further.

PS- I investigated, and he was right: http://www.livescience.com/33652-americans-brits-accents.html

I heard numerous false facts and statements throughout the day. I heard a kid ask his dad if George Washington was here. The father gave the kid a quick “no”. Not true; this was a pivotal battle for General Washington following his victory at Valley Forge. Then the kid asked if the the British general became President of England.

Another guy who actually worked for the parks service told a group of people that the trees surrounding the battlefield didn’t exist back then. He said it was farmland and crops as far as the eye can see. Looking at the old map of the battlefield below I would have to differ.

Most of the people stay in character throughout the weekend, but after a hard fought battle this British soldier couldn’t resist enjoying the refined taste of pre-rolled tobacco from our  industries in Virginia. When the soldier saw me with the camera the cigarette quickly disappeared.

As I was making my last rounds around the camp this fella called me over and offered me a bit of accurate history about the times and weaponry of the era. His name was Cliff as I recall (I really stink at remembering names). He showed me the differences between the musket and rifle and told me about their uses in battle. He had different flints from France and England and demonstrated how they strike. He showed me how to measure powder and load the weapons and bragged about his own marksmanship. Cliff said he has been attending these reenactments for over 40 years but now has a bum leg and stays in the camp to inform the curious like myself. Thanks Cliff.

And finally before taking off I asked this lady from the British side to pose with my British lady.

Split’n Lanes & Dodgin’ Gutters!

The motorcycles lined up on either side of the street outside Brooklyn Bowl to salute what I hope will be a continued annual event. Split’n Lanes & Dodgin’ Gutters! That’s the name of the 1st annual classic motorcycle show at Brooklyn Bowl today. Bikes of all kinds paralleled Wythe Street to guide you toward the entrance of the iconic Brooklyn venue.

With an already outstanding reputation as a state of the art bowling alley, restaurant and concert hall, Brooklyn Bowl hosted a bike show!

Inside, the concert floor and stage gave home to about 40 or so vintage machines dating back to the 20’s. The bikes were bathed in the dramatic house lighting as a montage of vintage motorcycle movies played to the cool sounds of the DJ throughout the venue.

There was a pleasant casual atmosphere here on this Sunday afternoon. People were friendly and the bikes were spaced out nicely so you could take a good look at all of them.

As I was crouching down between an Indian and a Vincent for a detail shot, I heard some rumbling behind me. It was Matt from the NYC Triumph Riders Club who I met while riding down to Maryland last month with a guy named Andrew (another club member) who happens to be a follower of this blog.

I love the NYC Public School doorknob suicide clutch. I have worked in schools that still have these old knobs on the doors. I want one!

Some of my best friends are Knuckleheads, but they are not quite as old as this classic ’46.

It’s time to let the pictures do the talking. Enjoy the show!

Thank you Brooklyn Bowl for hosting this excellent event

On the way home I thought I’d stop by to see the Kara Walker installation. That line of people continues inside the gate and goes beyond the Domino factory in the background alongside the bike path. I opted to return another day.

I didn’t ride there, but I returned for the Kara Walker installation the following week. It was awesome so I will include it here anyway.

Kara Walker at the Domino Sugar Factory

I waited in that long line that I opted out of when I first saw it last week. It was well worth the wait. Once inside the old Domino Sugar factory you become entranced not only by Kara Walker’s remarkable sculptures but by the visual impact and sweet smells of the decaying molasses crusted beams and rustic walls holding up the monstrous factory itself. It’s mesmerizing!

These bigger than life size children are made in molds with the same candy substance that lollipops are made from. The have also been coated in molasses and sugar.

After spending some time inside you can better appreciate the long line outside. The staff really spaced the incoming traffic well so that there is never overcrowding inside.

These five foot high laboring children slowly melt in the late Spring heat leaving syrupy puddles about them.

The giant sphinx made of sugar is awe inspiring. She fills this cavernous candy cathedral with exaggerated features framed within the old support beams of the factory.

The incoming natural and subtly placed artificial light both illuminate and penetrate these delicately featured characters to numerous reflecting and glowing effects.

The End.

Oh wait, a little more sugar before we go.

Once the Kara Walker show is over the building will be demolished. New housing will be built here adjacent to the future renovated part of the factory you see in the background.

There are a lot of nice spots for a cocktail or a fine brew throughout the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn as well.