The first weekend ride of Autumn, I had some choices this last weekend, I could have gone to Zions National Park with the BMW club of Utah, we haven't had a camp out in Zions since about 1991 or 1992. I have been a member of the Beehive Beemers since about 1988 and have been President, Vice-President, and editor of the Stinger, the monthly newsletter,;twice,for about four years total, and was the rally master for the Red Rock Rendezvous the first three years we put on the rally. O r I could have gone to Hagerman Idaho for the yearly camp out with the Idaho BMW club,. It used to be held the first weekend in October, but they moved it back a week a few years ago. Years ago it was held at a run down mineral bath resort called Sliger's and one year Caitlin when she was about 6 or 7 went with me. That Saturday evening they had a drawing for both free camping for the weekend and a membership in the Idaho club for the next year, they asked Caitlin to do the drawing and just as she started to draw the winning number, I blurted out, “if you don't draw my name, you will have to walk home.” I was the most surprised when she did in fact draw my name, and I offered to have her draw again, but everyone agreed there was no way she could have drawn my name, other than chance.
In the years when I was riding fifteen to twenty thousand miles a year, I would routinely end up spending about twenty to twenty five nights a year in a tent, and although I probably will never get up to that level again, I am sure next year I will start doing a little more camping. Weather permitting I want to ride to Death Valley in February and of course to Mariposa at the end of May. Valerie has all ready voiced her desire to go to New Mexico next fall for the Sipapu rally. I also have a trip planned for the ' Going to the Sun Highway' in Montana.
Valerie and Larry called me about a ride for Sunday morning and I was at their house just before 9:00 AM. I let Valerie pick where we were going to ride and she decided she wanted to ride to Chris's restaurant near Huntsville via the Trapper's Loop road. Today's ride will be on the short side, hardly more than 100 miles round trip, but Trapper's is a beautiful road, you could blink and you could be in the Alps somewhere. During the Olympics I remember seeing the view of the back of Mount Ogden on TV several times, and it was so startling to see this same view and it was almost a little disconcerting, it seemed to be magnified as if on steroids, so to speak.
The wind is always blowing down the Canyon, as you hit the mouth of Weber Canyon from Highway 89, its about the usual velocity and as I make the turn onto the on ramp of I-84 the Joni Mitchell song “Urge To Go” comes on my IPOD shuffle, “When the sun turns traitor cold and shivering trees are standing in a naked row, I get the urge for going, but I never seem to go.” Its a very good end of summer, slightly reflective song and even though we are experiencing above normal temperatures, it seems so fitting. There is a sheriff posted at the bottom of Trapper's Loop and I make sure I am going exactly 55, as I go past him. Once he is out of view, I wick it up and just as I step off my bike at Chris's Valerie pulls into the parking lot. Larry was a couple of seconds behind me.
Chris's has always had mediocre service, once years ago, on a ride to Woodruff and back, that Val and I took with a family friend from Park City, I had posted something on the Beehive Beemer message exchange that we were planning a ride and if anyone wanted to come with us, we would be at the mouth of Trapper's Loop at 9:00 AM. It was surprising when about 8 other people showed up. This was about Valerie's first year on her first BMW and when we returned to Chris's for lunch, one of the party asked her how she had pretty much kept up with me, she answered, that she just kept riding to remain about five to six seconds behind me and didn't even look at how fast she was going. Anyway, at this particular lunch, Chris's actually lost the order for our friend from Park City and after he finally got served, to add insult to injury, on the return ride on Trapper's he got pulled over for speeding. He was a pilot at that point in time and this presented some problems with the FAA. It was quite a long time till he rode with us again. Today's meal was uneventful and the service was okay.
I let Larry lead on the way back and as I tuck in behind Valerie, leaving a good margin so that while I can ride at the speed I want, I will not pass her, I watch her ride up Trapper's to the turn off for Snow Basin, she takes every turn at almost the perfect line and she seems to be riding a little quicker today that she tends to on longer rides. Its not cold but even the warm air, seems to have a crispness to it. I'm thinking Jonathan Apples. Larry is so far ahead of us, that I decide that I will ride with Val back to her house. Until Val and Larry married a few years ago, I would always ride back to Val's house with her, to make sure she got home okay, etc. Since she and Larry have been married, sometimes I just turn off at x point and then call later to go over the ride etc. We always share visual and textural perceptions from the ride.
As we turn off of Trapper's Loop and head toward Mt. Green and the I-84 on ramp, I see a little boy on a bicycle, dressed in his church clothes, riding from the church back to his house, behind him are his father and little sister walking, and it reminds me slightly of the wicked witch in the Wizard of Oz, he is pedaling very fast, but not really going very fast. I also can picture my Grandson Winston, riding a bike in a few years. As I hit the on ramp, Tom Rush comes on my IPOD singing his version of the same Joni Mitchell song, I have always preferred his version of “Urge To Go,” it is at a much slower tempo, last about 45 seconds more and maybe because I think of Tom Rush as being a slightly haunted human being, it is much more about loss, missed opportunities, regret and aging. I am sure this relates to my brooding northern temperament and my ancestors from Denmark.
Autumn is my favorite time of year, but it tends to make me reflective and slightly nostalgic. I tend to these proclivities anyway, and this time of year seems to make my feelings that more pronounced. I read recently that memory maybe the greatest form of lust there is. I will have to spend some time thinking about that. This past week I re-read Thomas Wolfe's “Look Homeward Angel, A Story of the Buried Life,” Its my Mother's copy with her initial and handwriting Louise Snow August 1936, probably a couple of months before she met my father. She was eighteen years old, I have a picture of her at about this same time period and it has always made me think, how did this young girl become the person I knew and loved so very much and continue to miss on almost a daily basis. Louise long before she became a mother or wife. I first read this book the first winter after Bob died, almost 36 years ago, and I remember as I read of Gant, bursting into tears, Bob had so many Gantian qualities, but maybe all Father's are larger than life, maybe that's the template. Some critic has said of Thomas Wolfe, that he was either “ Talent without Genius, or Genius without talent.” While there is a slightly dated quality to him, and to me a pronounced racists quality to his writing, the use of the N word is prolific, he does have some memorable phrases. I don't think in my whole life I have thought as much about food as he does in almost every chapter. According to the biography I read of him, his mother was not nearly as bad as his fictional mother Eliza.
Today's title comes from the Shakespeare's Play Cymbeline. It is one of the few plays of Shakespeare I don't think I have read. I plan to read it this week. I have my Grandfather's copy of the Falstaff Edition of The Works. I have rather enjoyed seeing Val's notes in some of the plays. Grandfather Val died several years before I was born, and if there was a way to go back and meet some ancestors, he would be first on my list.
