Commuting in Fog

Another foggy morning with temperatures near the freezing mark.  Heavy frost on both cars but the driveway and road were damp or dry.  The weather report said 31F but my scooter reading was 35F.  So off I went to work.

The fog was heavier this morning though creating another risk management factor.

A quick stop at the Pennsylvania Military Museum to look around and make a few pictures in the fog.  The collection is growing.  Almost fell on some ice that was well hidden.  Would hate to report a winter injury acquired on foot.

Here's where the accident almost happened.  Parked the scooter on a solid sheet of ice, jumped of for a picture and almost went down.  Sloppy technique.

The world is reduced to a few graphical elements in the fog -- scooter, lines and white space.  That must have something to do with my continued fascination with this weather event.

Cutting through the State College, Pennsylvania neighborhoods on the way to work is a relaxing path.  Little traffic save for the occasional dog walker.  Easy to park in the middle of the road for pictures.

The morning work schedule didn't leave much time for pictures or wandering and that's ok.  I'm happy to have a Vespa commute to start the day.

Vespa Rides and Frozen Fog

The clock radio alarm went off this morning with the weather report warning of possible ice on untreated surfaces due to fog.  As enchanting as fog can be it has to be carefully considered when the thermometer is pointing at 32F.

After walking the dog, paying attention to the road surface, and watching the thermometer rise I made the decision to ride to work.

The roads were mostly dry or damp with no obvious ice.  Keeping the helmet visor clear was an ongoing challenge until the helmet came off at work.

The meandering trip passed through familiar places though always strangely different when shrouded in fog.  I remember wandering through these places on foot with my big wooden view camera exposing sheets of black and white film and watching the world appear in a tray of developer in the darkroom.

I miss those days.

The only ice to be found this morning was off the road and halfway to town the temperature indicator on the Vespa displayed 34F.

Cutting across the east end of campus afforded a nice view of Mount Nittany emerging from a muted sunrise.

Only scooters in the parking lot now though with predictions of the temperature approaching 50 later in the week could see a few motorcycles around.

The biggest downside of commuting this time of year is darkness at the end of the day.  While it wasn't cold, 35F, it can be discouraging to climb aboard the Vespa in the dark on days when it is cold.

This day, I was just glad the warnings of frozen fog did not materialize.  Just another fine Vespa commute to start the day right.

Have Fog, Will Ride

Another morning greeted by fog which, for me, is near the pinnacle of riding environments. While not the most dramatic fog day it was still enough to push me on a more circuitous route to work.

Most riding textbooks I've read counsel riders to leave the bike at home when it's foggy with similar advice for night, rain, snow and other visibility limited situations.  Those situations definitely have heightened risk but can be managed with training, preparation and a riding mind attuned to the dangers.

Acquiring those skills is the challenge.

Reading about a crash on ModernVespa.com two comments stood out that shine a light on the possible outcomes of learning to ride in less than ideal conditions.

"...congrats on the healthy crash. crashing safely is the best thing you can do to become a better rider..."

and

"Wish it wasn't so, but experience really is the best teacher. Glad she is ok."

The comments relate to a new rider making a mistake on a wet road.  Easy to do especially if you think riding on wet roads is pretty much the same as dry ones.  You can get away with that thinking in a car but on two wheels not so much.

Anyways, I've been thinking about how differently I ride in different conditions including fog.  And try to keep the risk fresh.  Two of the most anxiety provoking rides I've ever made were in fog.

The ride to work today was uneventful — at least I can't remember anything happening of note.  Just a relaxed ride through the countryside slowly giving way to autumn.  Before long we'll be seeing snow flakes in the air...

Rebirth

Morning, a fine ride tarnished by the familiar nagging that something isn't right, something important forgotten or ignored — like waking from a dream that I forgot to go to a class for an entire semester.

I was searching for something along the narrow lane — an idea, a thought, perhaps a feeling. Listening to a red-winged blackbird's sharp note and trill as the sun burned through the fog altered a mental path, a welcome release from an obstinate mix of thought and emotion.

I could enjoy being alive.

Later, looking at this picture I thought about how powerful a morning can be — visually, psychically, emotionally.  And then I remembered this quote:

“Each night, when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.” ― Mahatma Gandhi

And so the road rolls on...

Fog is Strong Medicine

Fog is strong medicine -- it's stimulative power capable of pulling a comatose body from fantastic dreamworlds into a real world shrouded is gaseous water and mystery.  Forsaking plans and conceptions, no destination in mind, far from home in the dawn mist, I could feel the energy whispering through me, urging me on.

Into the darkness.  Fine water droplets transform the view through the visor into a translucent white luster framing the road as it winds through the forest, subduing detail not already lost to the fog.  A finger drags across the outside of the visor, then inside, a vain ritual to navigate into the morning nebula. Make no mistake – fog increases risk in the riding world and demands careful consideration before choosing to explore.

Empty dirt and gravel roads in Rothrock State Forest changes scanning for vehicles to a search for sudden changes in the road surface, meandering black bears, fallen limbs, and the ever present white-tailed deer.

Bear Meadows.  This place retains the same lure today as it did when I first visited in an orange VW beetle 40 years ago.  I see my dog Essa loping along the path, or remember falling through the ice on a New Year’s Day hike.  Sight and vision are sharpened by memory.

Kim and I used to come here before sunrise, hours before having to be at work to sit and write and experience the world.  And always when there was fog…

Free to explore.  That’s the secret power of a Vespa – far from discussions of fuel economy, hipster lifestyle or scooter culture.  It has power to move me into an altered state.  I’ve ridden a lot of fine motorcycles and scooters – this Vespa remains the perfect companion in my riding world.

The Vespa doesn't say no.  It just goes without complaint or demand as if just as driven to experience as its rider.  Through rain and snow, mud, ice, wind and darkness, the Vespa is up to the challenge. In videos of the Dakar and pictures of them rigged for water crossings, it is a hearty machine.

In a culture of bigger, faster, stronger a scooter isn’t a comfortable fit.  After tens of thousands of miles on a Vespa I’ve come to see the difference between my choice and the choice others would make for me should I give them the chance.  

Reflection.  Miles from home, standing in a stand of hemlocks listening to a small brook babble along on its way to the Chesapeake Bay, a mind is free to wander and wonder and reflect on whatever is important at that moment.  This doesn’t happen standing at the water fountain down the hall from my office…

The spell is broken.  I’ve read there are no wild places in the lower 48 states.  Certainly none in central Pennsylvania.  Still, in the fog a mind can wander and pretend.  Nothing breaks that wilderness bubble faster than the intrusion of runners into a fantasy.  Serious ones no doubt – the loop they were taking has 15 miles of mountain running ahead before returning to civilization.

Down the mountain.  A steep grade on mud and loose gravel challenge the scooter’s descent and highlights the need for careful braking and the technical limitation of the Vespa’s automatic transmission.  The Heidenau winter tires provide enough grip and bite to make for a reasonable ride.

Return to civilization.  Rides can’t last forever, especially ones made without boundaries measured in hours.  The departure from one world to another is softened on a foggy day, each mile unfolding with it’s own secret personality.

Sharpened vision. The Vespa bears witness to the landscape shaped and twisted by fog driven light as its small wheels turn through mud then gravel and back onto the security of pavement.  There’s a pull back to the forest and another on into the day.  I’m glad I can feel it.

Fully medicated. Mentally. Emotionally, Physically. How better to start a day than a ride in the fog. A few hours investment for a valuable return – it’s strong medicine and requires no prescription. A simple choice to ride.

Embracing Failure, Return of the iPhone

Waking to fog still excites me.  Duty and responsibility take a back seat as I scheme to find a way to explore a world half shrouded, half hidden by fog.  This past weekend was no exception and after a rush to get Junior exercised, fed, watered and Milkboned I was off to make photographs and eventually meet my friend Gordon at Starbucks.

The world was perfect.  Even the occasional draw of my glove across my visor to clear condensation could not interfere with the moment.  As I walked into position to make a photograph along Spring Creek I was presented with a wonderful opportunity for personal growth in the form of acceptance -- the SD card for my digital camera was missing. 

 Obviously all was not lost.  My recently revived iPhone (not long ago I abandoned it for a Trac Phone.  That was a bad plan professionally.) was in my pocket and I surrendered to the reality that photography on this morning would be different than I planned. The fog was subtle and that ephemeral nature would easily be lost without the more powerful rendering of my Canon G9.  The iPhone is closing in though.  Riding on along the creek I was surprised how angry I was with myself for being so irresponsible.  Again.  I could tell you about all the pictures that got away.  Instead, I embraced the failure and made the most of the situation.

And I still could ride.

 Earlier in the week I did the same thing on another evening ride.  No card in the camera.  So I had to resort to the iPhone.  It's not that the pictures are bad, they just aren't what I planned.  And again, my expectations struggled against me seeking to ruin a lovely evening on the road.

The roads here are sublime.  While there are times when I wait for vehicles to leave a scene for the most part these roads are empty on a Sunday morning.  I could have had breakfast here without concern. 

One last detour at a tract of land managed by the Pennsylvania Game Commission.  Kim and I used to rent a farm bordering these lands and could walk out our door and walk for hours without seeing another person.  Those were pre-Vespa days.  Standing here a flood of memories swept over me like ghosts from the past.  For those of you who know where this is (of for the Game Warden reading this) I did not motor into this position.  I dutifully pushed the Vespa around the gate and posed it for this picture.  There is no outlaw biker in me and I was not about to intrude on this place with my scooter.

Well, I thought about it for a second or two.

By the time I arrived at Starbucks I had moved beyond embracing my failure to bring along a working camera to deciding I should reward myself for making the most of a situation I could not change.  Two of these cookies died in the process.

I'll post the black and white prints for the 3 Prints Project when I get a moment to make some scans.  Right now I would rather ride.  It's only 9:30pm.  Perhaps a run to the store for some chocolate to go along with a cup of tea is in order.