I left Brian's Inn at 7:01 pm. Marge took me through some back streets and back onto 85. As I 'cruised' through Saranac Lake, I noticed a girl that had a lemonade stand setup in her driveway on the right hand side of the road. Unfortunately, she had no customers. Her lemonade stand tugged on me like an opposing side of a magnet but the time and getting back to camp before dark pulled harder and won the battle. I REALLY enjoy stopping to buy lemonade from the kids that take the extra effort of setting up a stand and establishing a 'business'. I hope these kids drive our future and not the lazy ones. I use to just buy 2 or 3 lemonades and not drink any but they, like most of us, like to see their customers happy so usually do my best to drink at least one. I find it so rewarding to do business with them though. I really struggled for a few more miles not stopping and conducting business with her. For the first time on the trip, the area looked familiar since I had passed through only a few hours prior. With no music on the ride, I could hear the chain buzz a little and figured that I should probably stop and shoot a little lube on it for a few reasons; I had not lubed it real well prior to leaving home, the chain would be warm (which makes the lube adhere better), and I did not want to stop the following day (day 2) to lube it because I would be doing more miles than on this day. I pulled over about 30 miles later and lubed it the best I could without having a jack to freely spin the wheel. Having a chain on the ACE is bitter-sweet. The new Honda Shadow Aero 750 (that replaced the long lived ACE last year) comes with a shaft drive. The shaft is far more maintenance free than the chain but on this motorcycle, I would prefer the chain so that I can change the gearing to turn less RPM's at top speed (which I did years ago). The shaft also steals power and since she's a 750, she's not a 'powerhouse'. On a larger bike, I would appreciate and prefer a shaft drive. Here’s a few snapshots of the sunset after the maintenance stop. The sun was just starting to drop a bit.
I kept my eyes PEELED for deer as I routed to the campsite at a much slower pace for safety. I rode back through Long Lake, I reported our location to the ACE with “we're almost there girl". I thought about all that I have and how much there is to be thankful for, allowing a tear to escape from my eyes. Riding the motorcycle allows me this type of thinking. I've heard others compare it to horseback riding, prayer, meditation, swimming, etc; activities that allow you to relax and think about life and things that are present. At this time in my life I find myself stopping often to thank God for all that I have. I could very easily compare myself to someone else that has a house and beautiful possessions and want ‘what they have’. I have so much, and for that, I am thankful. I thought about my son and how much I miss him. “I hope he’s hanging in there”, as I thought about our 1000 distance between us. He’s in me though we’re so far apart.As I rode on 28 near the campsite, I noticed all of the bug splats on the windshield and thought that I should get them off of it when I landed at the campsite, "Yea, but the little path to the site... do we really want to take her back down it again since it was tough to get her up it earlier? I don't know, we'll see when we get there. Wow, there are NO vehicles on this road!". I noticed that I speak to myself in a similar fashion as Tom Hanks does in the movie "The Castaway". Maybe because I spend so much time by myself, I'm not sure. As I veered onto the main path to the 3 campsites, I realized that I did not notice any deer OR vehicles late in the ride. I decided to slide her down the path to the site in order to clean her up and for ease of packing in the morning, found the kickstand plate, and dismounted. "Wow, no one is in any of these nearby sites at all, how awesome is this?!” I snapped a pic from the campsite before the sun set for the evening.
I was the only human in the area. I fired up the lantern for better visuals and quickly cleaned the windshield while the bugs were fresh. As I sat on the stool and meditated on the sounds of wildlife, it occurred to me that I was not 'camping' unless I made a fire. I needed the pops and cracks to keep me company. "But I did not bring any wood OR lighting utensils other than traditional matches.” My luck with building fires is pretty slim even though I was awarded the campfire belt medal in the Boy Scouts as a boy. It seems that the wood is always too fresh when my fires don’t 'take off'; I have to continually work and feed the flame. I remembered that I had noticed a large tree near the top of the path that had fallen during the winter and the park grounds men were in the process of cutting it up as their were freshly cut pieces and piles of saw dust in small mounds around the main section. The tree was so large that it took up the site next door, 203, and it's pathway. I grabbed the Princeton LED flashlight and went to the fallen tree. I snagged an arm full of twigs and small branches and delivered them to the campsite. I returned for more branches and small cut limbs. Everything I grabbed had to be pre-cut because I had nothing with me to cut or chop limbs or logs. I felt like an ant, hunting for goods; retrieving them to the fire spot and returning for more. I thought about the episode of “King of the Hill” where Bobby became a slave to the queen of his ant farm. He’d sneaked into the kitchen to retrieve mouths full of sugar and return it to his queen. After about 15 minutes of hunting, I made an attempt to fire the leaves and twigs, which were reluctant to join the match disease of burning, but finally took off. Again, with "Castaway" being one of my favorite flicks, I slipped into the Tom Hanks fire dance "fiwaah, we’ve got FIWAAH!" as the leaves lost control to the flames. I did not care if I looked like a fool to the insects, crickets, and frogs. Before I knew it, I had a nice little fire. "Wouldn't you know", I said to myself. "Wouldn't you know, the only time that I did not buy any wood or bring any type of starter, my fire would burn nicely with little effort". I perched on the stool for a while and allowed the flames to mesmerize me.
Looking back, this is where the fun and laughter begins. I realized that I could not just watch the fire without a small snack so I grabbed the beef jerky out of the GranTour bag and returned to my throne in front of the fire. A few pieces into the bag, the threat began to rise in my mind. I looked at a piece of jerky and thought, “What have I done now? What were you thinking by opening this bag?!” I thought about how there was no one else in the area, and if there were bears in the area, they’d only show at my site since I was all alone in the area. “Beef, you know they will smell this, if any are around”, I said frustratingly to myself. Were there bears in the area? “No, no bears in the area anymore. Maybe one day there was”, I thought. I was fighting for control of my mind and thoughts as the tug of war began.
Long Lake…the decal… the decal that I had seen in the past, mother bear following behind her cub. “And Long lake is only a few miles away”, I said aloud. I began losing serious ground to the tug of war. I am normally not concerned of such but when I usually go camping, I stow the food in my vehicle. And I was not concerned of my health, I just did not want to deal with a bear over some lousy beef jerky. My thoughts recalled some recent events, whether I wanted them or not. I thought about my trip to Campmor a few days ago. I was in the lantern/towel isle where could here two guys talking in the isle next to me. One said to the other, “A lady was looking for some bear spray repellent! I showed it to her and included my advice that you can’t outrun a bear. You could see the concern on her face. It was pretty funny.” And the other voice added, “That’s funny. She’ll probably use the can up in no time, spraying everything in sight”. They chuckled and I have to admit, so did I as I thought about how shallow the lady must be for worrying about a dumb bear. Then I remembered seeing the food container in the Aerostich catalog that is airtight and is designed to be hung by a tree to keep the bear and other animals from getting into the food. “Or how about the camping list that you did not follow Rob?” I asked myself, waiting for a reply. The motorcycle camping list that I used (located here http://users.pullman.com/viking/CampingList.htm) for preparation included a large Buck knife and I clearly remember thinking that I would not need a larger knife than the pocketknife. “How handy would the knife that Grandpa made me be right now”. Grandpa made me a knife with a 7” blade when I turned 13 years old. My brain now has me in a full hand-to-paw battle with the bear, as if we’d fight till one of us meets death. I rigged the lantern to hang from a tree and I used some of the balancing experience to balance the bag of jerky atop the lantern. “If a bear wants it, he can have it”, I thought as I realized I lost the tug of war battle with my mind. I threw most of the gear in the tent and joined it inside with a zip of the door. I unzipped the openings to allow ventilation and tried going to sleep. I had never camped ‘right on’ a lake before, so I quickly learned why a bullfrog is named such (if you do not know, it sounds like a bull). Many bull frogs sound like many bulls! The crickets would begin to quiet as I would almost fall asleep then, one stinking cricket would start the whole pack up again. Needless to say, I slept all night with one eye open, waking every half hour or so…
