MY HURRICANE EXPERIENCE

With the recent Storm of Sandy passing through back East, I thought it would be fitting to share my hurricane road experience from last year in September unknowingly by the Lady Irene. 

*Sorry about the lack of pix. I'm no vulture. I'm not going to be snapping pictures like a tourist while peoples lives are washed away. 

I got back from Alaska a month prior and was itching to hit the road again. Deciding New England was going to be it, I was planning on a month with Bike and the road. Like usual, I left without checking the weather.

8 days after leaving WV, guerilla camping, eating out of cans, freedom, it was going good and the weather has been fabulous.

…I continue on my journey. I want to hit up the Finger Lakes, looks like a cool spot on the map, plus there's a National Forest in the area for a free sleep. It's not too far and I can easily make a day out of it from my squat spot in the landfill of Letchworth State Park. 

I make Keuka Lake, ride north along the western edge, on to Penn Yan  and up to the lively town of Geneva and start south along Seneca Lake. I head on down to Watkins Glen, where a Beemer Rally is going to be held in a few days which I opt out of. I pause in town, get my bearings and I notice Sky is getting gray. No biggie, the NF is just up the road.

I fill up my water jugs heading out of town at a park on Seneca Lake and head north on 414. I stop at the closed ranger station, got a forest road map, found what I was looking for and headed toward a wide spot in the road by the name of Hector, and the Finger Lakes NF was in it's backyard.

I'm riding the 2 lane blacktopped road and I start seeing Forest signs, I find a dirt road on the left where I find a few primitive spots and a gated off group campground a quarter of a mile back off the road. I get off Bike, stretched, and took a small walk and went around the gate to see why a gate is necessary. The usual stuff is back there, a large pavilion with 9 picnic tables, a large fire ring and a dual pit toilet and of course signage saying 'groups only' and 'reservations required'.

I get back on Bike, hit up one of the free primitive sites and Sky is really darkening up. So dark where I'm starting to feel reluctant about pitching a tent and I find myself thinking of that large pavilion back at the gated off group campground. I feel a sprinkle. Yep, if there's a pavilion available, no sense in messing with a tent. Bike and I head back the short distance to the group site, hang for a moment in the empty parking spot, I scout out the short distance to the campground making sure it was clear. All good, I maneuver Bike around the side of the gate, just enough space for Bike's wide 3 feet wide ass and we head to our roof, not knowing that it was going to be our home for the next 3 nights.

It's lightly sprinkling and I'm enjoying it the refreshing quality of the spritz. I unpack my gear to cook some food, take advantage of the toilet, walk the perimeter of the area which proves to be huge and concealing. Great spot!

I eat some food and the rain starts to pick up a bit, Sky is really getting black. I push the picnic tables toward the center of the pavilion and pull Bike in under the roof. I get out my Louis L'Amour book, 'Last of the Breed' (aarrr) and commence to reading.

The rain is now pelting down and the wind is getting ridiculous, no big deal I continue the read. 

OK, this is now getting serious it's beyond ridiculous. The tall trees are bending at obscene curves, the tops knocking off of one another, it's raining sideways, the thunder is a cracking at a fast rate closer and closer and the lightning begins. 

Bike and I are now dead center under the roof. I have a couple of picnic tables pushed together for a bed and a place to keep my gear off the now wet cement pad. Meanwhile, I thanking my gut for telling me to screw the tent and find shelter.

It's now pitch black, lightning lights up the bent trees and the rain still horizontal. The storm is in full swing. It's quite a rush, exhilarating and totally intimidating. This is one heck of a storm to find myself out in and the storm seems to keep picking up steam and all I can do is read by my flashlight until my nerves are calmed down enough to sleep. The whiskey helped.

I kind of slept but found myself constantly woken up by the storm, the wind screaming at me exposed. it was a long night. It was so long I just stayed up drinking the whiskey and reading about Joe Mack running towards the Bearing Strait from the Soviets.

Daylight, it's still raining and the wind is still singing, it's 7 am or so and it never did seem to get any brighter. The storm slackened off a tad but it was immensely overcast and didn't seem to be going anywhere. I made some oatmeal and read. I took a drink and read. I walked around the pavilion and read. I took a nip and read. I looked at Sky and read. I took a nip… damn out of whiskey and read. I looked at Sky and read. I watched the rain and read. I made some Ramen and read. I read, I read, I read and I read and I was getting hungry as I was out of food and it was now evening.

I looked at Sky, what? It's not raining but Sky still looked pissed. I geared up in second, hopped on Bike and sped to Watkins Glen where I bought some cans of food, a pint of whiskey and refilled my water jugs at the water park heading out of town, just in time as the sprinkles started coming down again. Everywhere was saturated and glistening, it looked unworldly.

I got back to my pavilion and made some mac n cheese with vienna sausages first thing and took a nip as the rain started to increase and decrease back and forth, what is this? Inland hurricane or something? So of course I continue my reading, done with L'Armour, I'm now on to Lizzie Borden which is totally dragging and I so want to be doing anything else besides reading for a moment.

What do you know? It hasn't been raining for a moment and is that stars I see?

WHOO HOO!

Before the storm hit 24 hours back, I had in mind to collect firewood which I did, and I was on the game enough that I put the wood under the roof with me. So what did I do? I drank my whiskey and danced around a fire with the newly freed stars watching. I did that till all the wood and drink was gone. It's safe to say I slept sound that night.

I wake to a gorgeous morning and I felt great. Rejuvenated in fact. I was in need of a rear tire and found Lane's Yamaha to be the option with a lovely cheap Shinko just my size. It was such a nice day, I may just stay here one more night and take advantage of a couple of hiking trails around here when I get back from the tire swap.

I throw all my gear into my 3 surplus dry bags and throw them in the woods for concealment and head into town. Did I mention it was a lovely day? I get in town, find the motorbike shop and pleasantly surprised that it's an old school bike shop, not some car dealership knock off with a gazzilion dollar building and matching door mats. 

The Lane's were great, a family ran establishment that kept me company and I mentioned the ridiculous 24+ hours rain that came through.

'Crazy weather we just went through, eh? Glad I had at least a roof since I was out in the forest.' I said.

'You slept outside in that?' Mama Lane asked, dumbfounded.

'Not really, I found a pavilion. I had a roof over my head and picnic tables to sleep on. I wasn't on the ground.' I told her.

'That was Hurricane Irene,' she told me. 'She really made a much larger mess than anticipated this far inland. There's a lot of power still out.'

'Oh. I wasn't aware of that.'

She just looked at me and giggled.

So with the new rear tire, I headed back to the National Forest, ate some breakfast and walked for the day, hitting up trails that winded through the forest, finding and enjoying wild raspberries, toying with a garter snake, watching deer and enjoying the bright Sun filled day. I'm definitely staying one more night.

Next morning, when I should have taken off and counted my thanks, I wake up late, read a bit, stretch, make oatmeal, and waller in my cozy laziness. I hear a car door close and ignore it and hit up the toilet. I hear another car door close, totally by the gate. Whatever.

I get Bike loaded up and I'm hearing people sounds by the gate. Damn. With no other choice, I fire up Bike and ride the short distance to the gate where I come upon two female NF Park Rangers. One of them, obviously the superior of the two, throws a hand in the air gesturing me to stop. I stop and shut off Bike.

'What are you doing back there?' She asks gruffly.

'Uh, made some breakfast…' I tell her. She just looks at me through her authority style shades. Clearly flexing for her subordinated.

'Uh, took advantage of the toilets…' I try. She cocks her head and continues looking at me without saying a word.

'OK, I slept back there last night.', I tell her, not letting on that it was actually 3 nights  and trying to keep my grin to an all time low.

'Yeah, that's what I thought. How did you get the motorcycle back there?' She continues, looking to the side of the gate.

'I rode around the gate.' I said, looking at the same spot she was looking at, the grin being tough to conceal.

'Yeah, seeing what all you could get away with? Are you aware that this is a group only campground and it also requires reservations. Also, what do you think a closed gate means? ID and insurance, Sir.' She commanded. 'I'm going to have to write you up for this.'

'Do what you have to do,' I tell her, 'it's your job, you caught me and here I am.' Still grinning.

She does her thing and the other Ranger about my age finally leaves the fiasco and walks past me. 

'Good morning, beautiful day.' I flirt with her. She just rolls her eyes.

The Ranger finished doing her citation work and comes back over to me removing her shades.

'Beautiful forest here.' I tell her.

'Yes it is. I'm citing you for sleeping without reservations, a $25 fine and unauthorized use of a motor vehicle, a $125 fine. There's also a $25 processing fee for each citation.'

I grin and bear it. Maybe if I told her I was seeking shelter during a hurricane, but I thought otherwise. I hung around for 3 nights and rather enjoyed myself. I kept that to myself.

She continues with the usual shpeals, I continue grinning and she tells me I'm free to go.

'Have a great day.' I tell her. She just rolls her eyes.

So off I rode laughing. Not pissed. All they're doing is just asking for their money back. I continued on towards to Adirondacks for a couple of days. Shot into northern Vermont from Plattsburgh, NY with the idea of the long about way to Maine.

Well it proved a no go. I kept an eye on eastern roads and they all happened to be closed. I stopped in Pittsford, VT after I passed an old school bike shop with an abundance of older Airheads and Triumphs scattered about. I made a louie and found myself at Nickwackett Garage. It looked somewhat like a closed garage that some eclectic guy kept around to store his bikes.

A mechanic met me outside when I parked. He looked at Bike and asked, 'What is that there Beemer?'

'An RS at one time,' I told him, 'just like that pearl white one you have in the window.'

He got a kick out of the set up and was really giving Her the one over.

'Where you headed? That is if you are heading somewhere.'

I told him I had Maine in mind as a spot but really out just riding around cos I could. I went on about the storm and that's when I asked him about heading east.

'Good luck,' he vented. 'Central Vermont is a mess and totally closed off. You slept outside in that?'

We got around to introducing ourselves and his handle is Bud. Said he's been working on Beemer's for years and grew up around Triumphs. 'This is my Dad's old shop. I worked with Bob in Maryland and came back here.' He filled me in as we walked around the shop with its wonderful creaking wooden floor. The place was filled with all kinds of goodies, a busted BSA here, a monoshock parts bike there he tried to pass off on to me, a Jubilee Bonnie by the window and a Norton tucked in between with a 1938 Graham sedan behind the bikes in the down to earth show room with oil stains and all and a couple of Oilheads tossed in for good measure. Ah, the wonderful world of older carbureted motors. We talked about traveling, bikes and nothing in general and I asked again about east and he shook his head. I bought a quart of oil off of Bud and I left him get back to his work on a customers modern Triumph.

So I go the rest of the way south through western Vermont and Bud was right. All eastern access was closed. I checked with Forest Rangers around Rutland and they said don't do it and they better not see me out there.

I cruise on farther south and go through small quaint towns muddy as hell and standing flood water everywhere. I see an camping sign and decide to see what's up. I wind my way easterly for a few short miles and come upon an RV park. I stop and walk into the office and talk with the husband and wife who run the place. The man tells me he's been in Vermont his whole life and never has seen such a storm and the havoc it created. He asks, 'Would like to camp?

'How much?' I inquired not really feeling it but it was late in the day.

'$20.'

'$10 is the most I'll spend.' I tell him.

'$15?' he retorts.

'Sorry, against my principles.'

'Eh, you're on a scooter. You can tuck off anywhere for free.' He tells me while tugging on his great mustache.

'Exactly.' I say and I wave goodbye and he wishes me well.

I go on south into Massachusetts, the odometer rolls over to 000,000 which I noticed afterwards and make Williamstown, east closed. I go on down to Lanesborough, east closed. I make it down to Pittsfield, east closed. Apparently east isn't a possibility anymore.

Pittsfield is kind of grimy with no options of squatting in town. I cruise up to the high spot of Mass which is on a state park and there's 'closed' signs everywhere cause of flooding and run off. I make the ridge and they want you to pay to see it so I scoot on. 

I did happen to find a state park outside of Pittsfield after dark. I rolled in and squatted on a picnic table. After a couple of nips I go to sleep. I wake up early and depart before the park opens.

'Well, what now?' I think to myself as I stopped in Beartown State Forest to cook some corn beef hash. The ride through the park was absolutely atrocious. The road was beat to hell and it was foggy as all get out. I was finding myself in a foul mood.

I start to cook and the propane runs dry, gear spills off of Bike and I lost a glove. I start throwing stuff and cussing to no one in general.

I laugh at myself and eat a cold can of hash and some mandarin oranges. I guess I'll head back south if east is a no go. Can't do anything about it.

I make a ride south and hit up 23 taking me back into NY and I decide to hit up the Catskills. It's a beautiful morning once the fog lifted and I'm looking forward to some scenic rolling mountains of the Catskills. I stop at Hugo Chavez's fuel stop and take him up on a free cup of coffee, thank you comrade and I 'cheers' in the air. Win the hearts of the masses with coffee beans. It's still early, people are heading for work and here I am loafing around, good stuff.

I get back on the pavement after the cup of black mud and I make the pull off taking me up the hills of the Catskills and this is when things get really good.

I'm climbing the hills when I start seeing entire sections of road absolutely gone, not there, see ya later. I continue on and there's National Guard trucks, utility trucks and all climbing also.

I roll into a town, I have no idea the name it is barely left standing. National Guard has the roads blocked off and the Sheriffs are trying to keep a hold of things, residents throwing away all the stuff they have managed to collect over the years and pump trucks sucking up water. It was like as 'they' say, something out of a movie. 

I ask the Sheriff where I can go besides where I came from. 

'Nowhere, not a good place to be.' he tells me.

Well, me knowing better, I get out the trusty NY state map and decide to hit up county roads so I don't do any back tracking. 

It was a beautiful ride but in full reality it was a tangled nightmare. I rode up the hill out of town and the rode was ruined and utility workers and sheriffs literally everywhere. I would go down a road for a small distance and hit a 'road closed' sign. Back track and go another county road, 'road closed' I was visually told. This went on for the entire afternoon, I'm not kidding you, I was lost in a mess of closed flooded out roads and so turned around I couldn't tell you where I just came from. Creeks and bodies of water left the most ridiculous things tossed here and there with little effort. I found myself on the evacuation route which led me into a small town that was obliterated, it was barely left standing, red cross tents up for people to sleep and be nursed but I have to say, the people milling about waved at me and smiled. I must mention I didn't take any pictures, I'm no vulture. I'll have those images in my head forever.

Every road I was on was leading me no where and I was starting to get a bit concerned with my fuel situation and the possibilities of being a dumb traveler getting myself stuck in a dumb situation with people that had real problems. I came upon another 'dead end' where I there was a gaggle of DOT workers and I stopped and asked how to get out of here and towards the interstate pointing at the paper map.

'Well, you want to go back down the road, hang a right at a barn that's in the corner, a left here, a right there, backwards over this away.' one guy said scratching his head.

'No it's not, you got it all wrong, Bubba.' another worker chirped in and held forth. 'You want to go left at the barn and you'll start seeing blue evacuation markers and just follow those.'

'That's what I've been doing.' I say.

'Nah, those will get you where you need to be. This whole place is wrecked and took us by surprise.' he returns.

I say thanks and trying to remember all the land marks they tell me, I finally did find my way out of the tangled mess and find myself at Oneonta, NY where I find the interstate cos it's the only safe road left. 

I'm going home I guess. Once I had that in my mind it was over, the homing beacon was flashing in my head and I88 and I81 sucked hard and were boring as all get out but there I was. 

Maybe I was subliminally feeling guilty about my situation. Here I was out lollygagging around while peoples lives were crushed, ruined, caved in, washed away and maimed which I witnessed first hand. I had somewhere I could go, they didn't.

I heard just this past Spring they finally got one of the majorly punched easily roads in Vermont finally opened. That's quite a storm, the center of the state turned to swamp. I didn't make Maine, it will always be there, but will the roads?

Love, H