September 1, 2023 to September 2, 2023
The drive west (part one)
Taking my sweet time to get to the starting line
TAKING A PAGE from the Team Anderson playbook, I'm going to condense several days into a couple of entries (of which this is the first), since none of them actually involves riding my bike. What they do involve is the road trip I constructed to get me from hither to yon.
To be a true road trip, a journey must meander. Confining onself to only the shortest, fastest, most expeditious route available between Point A to Point B is mere transportation; road trips deliberately wander off into the unknown, seeking the hidden gems those who are slaves to the interstates pass by all unknowing. I'll use intersates for some of the time on this trek, but also journey deeper into the hinterlands. Apart from merely taking my time, I have a couple objectives which make such a choice of route more than mere whimsy.
Friday 1 September
Today my mother-in-law turns 95. She shares a house in Lansdale, PA with her youngest daughter. Lansdale is an easy drive- about 160 miles, usually about 2 1/2 hours- from home. My wife went up yesterday but I had other plans so today was my turn to make the drive. I'll stay the night and leave tomorrow morning, but not at a ridiculously early hour.
Since I'm under no time pressure, I have the luxury of taking my time to methodically finish packing, load up the car, and close up the house for the few days it will stand empty save for the cat. Lugging my rolling duffel bag up the stairs tells me I've overpacked and need to reconsider my strategy. Although I've done my best to organize and separate clothing I will want during the biking portion of the trip from those items I'll leave in the car for the non-cycling parts (and vice-versa), there are some things that will get used in both phases.
I make a last-minute decision, pulling everything out of the duffel (that part's easy because I've used handy-dandy organizers to subdivide the lot into various categories, so everything's packaged into smaller, easily-handled units) and shuffling it about. The biking-only items go into a canvas tote bag for the time being, and the rest go into a smaller roll-aboard overnight bag. When it comes time to bike, I'll swap the two groups. Before that, a reassessment of the inventory is probably called for. Some night when I'm in a hotel room with nothing better to do will provide the perfect opportunity. Until then, good enough is good enough.
I'm out of the driveway about 11:00. Traffic on Interstate 95 is predictably heavy- it's Friday morning of a long holiday weekend, after all- but moves pretty much at the posted speed limit for most of the way north. There's a slowdown in Delaware, caused by traffic wanting to cross the Delaware Memorial Bridge backing up onto I-95, but it only adds fifteen or twenty minutes to the trip.
It's a beautiful early-autumn day: bright sun in a faultless blue sky, warm but not hot, and with low humidity. I've got one of my Pandora channels playing classic rock from the 60s (the basis of the channel is Buffalo Springfield so I get liberal doses of things by/including Stephen Stills, Graham Nash, David Crosby, and Neil Young, as well as Eric Clapton, Cream, Procol Harum, and other similar bands).
Arriving more-or-less on "schedule" in Lansdale, I find only my oldest sister-in-law in the house, along with the birthday girl. The other sisters and my wife are out picking up a large order of sushi and a birthday cake, which together will be an early dinner.
After dinner there's general visiting and conversation but by 8:00 I've had it; I woke up before 4:00 and have been awake ever since, so it's bedtime for me.
Saturday 2 September
The house is small, so two of the sisters are relegated to sleeping in the living room. In consideration of their beauty rest, I wait until about 8:00 even though I've been awake since before 6:00 before making my way downstairs for the ritual morning coffee. Both sisters are already awake and chatting, so at least I know it wasn't me who woke them.
We visit for a while and eventually the rest of the household appear. After a leisurely breakfast, it's time for me to hit the road- it's already 10:30 and although I have time to spare I prefer not to waste it at the starting end of the trip.
I've selected as a tentative target for the day a town along the Ohio Turnpike, about an eight hour drive from Lansdale. I'm not sure how I'll be feeling by 6 this evening, so it's a good point to use for planning purposes. Having not made reservations anywhere, I'm free to change the plan as it suits me.
Consulting Google Maps I find that the fastest route is also the most expensive- it includes nearly $100 in tolls. There's NO WAY I'm going to pony up that kind of money for a drive like this where time's not a factor, so I reroute onto secondary roads for a chunk of the Pennsylvania segment. Once I manage my escape from the cesspool of Philadelphia-region suburban sprawl, including a seemingly endless string of closely-spaced traffic lights- each of which seems to turn red just as I approach- the rest of the day passes easily.
I'm eventually deposited onto I-80, and can up the speed to a comfortable, steady 72 miles an hour. Traffic's very light all day, so I make good time as I roll through the PA countryside. Central and western PA feature a mix of heavily-wooded hillsides and more open farmland, but it's mostly the former. It maes for a pleasant and relaxing passage.
My route passes through several wooded and seemingly unpopulated areas officially designated as Pennsylvania State Game Lands; hunting is a big deal in these parts. The opening day of deer season, for example, is a school holiday across the state in recognition of the fact that a large fraction of the students would be absent regardless.
Like yesterday, the weather couldn't be more perect for a drive, and I enjoy it. While I drive, Pandora continues to churn out tunes from 1960s supergroups until I finally tire of that and switch to electro-swing for an hour or so. It plays tunes by such artists as Caro Emerald, Parov Stelar, Gramatik, Dennis Ferrer, and others, continuing to entertain me as the miles and hours pass. Finally though, realizing that that genre isn't really doing it for me at the moment, I switch again and settle on a channel featuring Adam Ant, The Clash, The Cure, INXS, Blondie, Billy Idol, and other acts that were big in the early and mid 1980s. The blast from my past does the job, seeing me all the way to the end of the day's drive.
Around 3:00, it's time to stop for gas and a late lunch. Not long before, I've passed a sign marking the highest point on I-80 east of the Mississippi River (something over 2,200 feet though I forget the precise number); later I'll pass another sign marking the boundary of the drainage divide beween the Mississippi River watershed and the Great Lakes / St. Lawrence wathershed.
The gas stop also provides the opportunity to assess where I am and how much longer I want to drive today. My tentative destination, south of Sandusky OH, is just three hours down the road. I'm not tired, so that's too soon to quit for the day. Looking beyond Sandusky, I find Adrian, MI is a couple hours farther ahead and decide that's about right: I should arrive just about sunset, leaving time for a light dinner and some journal-writing.
Leaving the wooded hills of Pennsylvania behind, I enter eastern Ohio and soon find myself on the edge of the vast ocean of corn and soybean fields that stretches from here to Nebraska, and from Oklahoma into Canada. Although I've never lived the agrarian life- I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago- I inherited an appreciation of this landscape from my father, who was raised on a Depression-era farm outside a small Kansas farm town.
Crossing I-75 I send a mental wave and shout-out to fellow CycleBlazer Bill Shaneyfelt, who lives a bit south of here. Bill, did you feel the wave? Or were you busy fishin'?
My mind also transfers me to another lifestyle about which I've only read, never experienced firsthand: aviation. I've recently been re-re-re-reading one of my all-time favorite books: Fate Is the Hunter, by Ernest K. Gann. Among several other careers, Gann was a professional pilot from sometime in the late 1930s through the mid-1950s. He's very skilled at translating that into what is, for me, riveting prose rich in imagery. He describes not only the events, but the mood, tenor, background, and general vibe of the settings for his tales- all of which are true-life experiences, not fiction.
Recalling and envisioning his words, I mentally convert my car's dashboard and steering wheel into the flight controls and instrument panel of a DC-3 (or C-47, as the wartime military cargo version was called). I imagine myself flying his airline route, which stretched between Newark and Toledo, or some of his wartime flights across the North Atlantic between Presque Isle Maine and Scotland or beyond.
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1 year ago
However, two other movies have been made that are directly from it, or that draw heavily on it. Both star John Wayne and were produced by BatJac, his production company.
Island in the Sky, and The High and the Mighty. Gann is credited as the writer for both.
1 year ago
In my mind's eye I can almost see him passing a few thousand feet overhead, and not much faster than I'm traveling. Many of those flights seemed to be of a duration similar to today's drive, so I find it interesting to muse over the similarities and obvious differences. It's a delightful diversion, and the miles roll by very enjoyably.
In one story Gann describes flying through a thunderstorm and finding that the windshield is not well-sealed, allowing a dribble of rainwater to trickle in and dampen his trousers. I have a similarly minor issue to contend with: the slowly-sinking sun is in a position that places it squarely in the gap between the edge of my windshield visor and the A pillar that supports the windshield. It's a minor annoyance, nothing more, but exactly the sort of thing he described so well, which makes my fantasy comparison all the richer.
Right on schedule, I reach my exit and depart the Ohio Turnpike, turning north toward Adrian. I'm instantly pleased to find myself on the sort of road I love: a two-lane secondary State highway in the middle of farm country. The scenery's picturesque in that subdued midwestern sort of way I'm mentioned previously; at this hour it's also tranquil and serene.
There's been a thin layer of cirro-stratus cloud through much of the later afternoon, slightly diffusing the sun, but now it's beginning to break up. The setting sun disappears and reappears a few times to my left, making a beautiful sunset.
I'm amused to note the style of illumination at various crossroads: a single light fixture dangles over the centers of the intersections, suspended from and supported by from the wires that supply the electricty necessary for it to operate. The wires in turn are supported on posts on opposite corners of the intersection, such that they cross the road diagonally. This is novel to me, and I have no trouble imagining them in the wee hours, shining in magnificent isolation and casting their cone of light downward while everything else is in darkness.
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While I'm at dinner, other members of the group check in via the group chat that's been established to facilitate messaging among us. They're in Montana for the evening, headed for North Dakota on the morrow, so I surmise they've started from Washington or Oregon. Another member posts a photo of a local league baseball game (American Legion level, maybe, or very low minor league?). What a great and absolutely American way to pass a beautiful Saturday evening.
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Yes, let's rock to Buffalo Spring Field and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
$100 for toll roads? Yikes!
Driving/flying...at the same time - why not? Sounds like a good book
We avoid interstate as much as possible and love back roads and less traveled state highways
I look forward to your updates.
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