Westbound
The woodpecker/aluminum gutter alarm went off around 6 a.m. I rolled over hoping to catch another half hour snooze but after fifteen minutes it was clear that I was up for the day. I commenced with the pack up procedure, punching my bag and pillow into their dedicated stuff sacks followed by the slow roll of the thermarest before exiting the tent. My gear included a new dry bag, an “Expedition” model from Wolfman Motorcycle Luggage. The new bag opens from the top instead of the side like my old bag, giving easier access to stuff on the bottom.
Bruce and Allyson were already up stowing away the “Taj-Ma-Halleran”. They were headed back home to Factoryville to swap out some gear before pointing westward to the International in Wisconsin. My destination today, Dillon State Park in Ohio, was only 430 miles away so I was not in any rush. I fired up the jetboil, made some coffee and reviewed the route. There were a few squiggly lines on the map to follow before I’d hit the Interstate for a monotonous stretch though PA.
The most exciting part was the tunnels.
Yup. See what I mean? 
I arrived at Dillon S.P. around 5 p.m. The campground has everything you could possibly want when travelling by bike. A complete laundry facility, a well stocked camp store that has everything from hatchets to hotdogs (I bought both) and the sites are grass covered with paved driveways to them. Not bad considering I chose this park only because of it’s proximity to the AMA museum.
I setup and people watched for a while, witnessing what has to be the most inept attempt at trailer parking I had every seen. This husband – wife team were as dysfunctional as the U.S. Senate and House combined. After 30 minutes of forward, back, move it this way, no the other way, too far, too crooked, too tilted, the husband yells out the window to his equally directional challenged wife, “Shut the Fuck up”. And with that, the show was over.
Brian and Jeff rolled into the campground 8 p.m., having started their ride 11 hours earlier from the Boston area. They said very little as they unpacked and setup. That much seat time in a single run takes allot out of you. I got the fire going for the wiener roast and made some Tai noodles and beans for dinner. We burned the rest of the firewood as the clouds rolled in and rain slowly increased from a drizzle to a steady shower. That was our signal to call it a day.
Next – AMA Museum and Illinois
Art of the Bike
I awoke to a woodpecker beating the hell out of John’s aluminum gutters. Apparently they like to mark out their territory with the loudest sound they can muster and this guy has the neighborhood to himself. He positions himself in the center of the house to obtain the best resonance and then goes at it.
Bruce and Allyson along with the rest of the Halleran gang pulled in around 9:00 a.m. and we suited up and rode into town for breakfast before heading across the river to Tinicum Park in PA. The Frenchtown Cafe was packed but somehow managed to seat us quite quickly. Belly’s full, it was time to check out some classic bikes across the river.
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Art of the Bike – Classic Bikes and Blues was started by a couple of local marketing guys that happened to ride motorcycles as well. The first year it was held the turnout overwhelmed the tiny area of downtown Frenchtown so they moved it across the river to Tinicum Park.
We arrived, parked and after paying the $5 and being branded I made a beeline to the concourse area where all the old bikes were assembling. Every few minutes another owner would turn in off the road and make his way to the lineup. Out of all the bikes there for judging I only saw two roll off trailers. All the rest had plates and registrations and were ridden there and parked.
I need another bike project.
Departure
The route out -
The ride out is at a leisurely pace averaging between 300 and 400 miles a day. I’ll be camping in Frenchtown, NJ tonight with some fellow IBMC’ers and attending the annual Classic Bikes and Blues Festival at Tinicum Park in Erwinna, PA on Saturday. Sunday I ride out to Dillon State Park in Ohio to put me in early morning striking distance of the AMA Motorcycle Hall of Fame Museum in Pickerington. Monday afternoon I’ll point the bike west for a night at Kickapoo State Park in Oakwood, IL. Tuesday morning will be the final leg to New Lisbon, WI for the IBMC International Campout.
The route back…
…is anything but leisurely. I and a few other like-minded (some would say “challenged”) individuals plan on completing a 1,500 mile IBA ride by completing all 1,500 miles in under 24 hours.
Weather this morning in Connecticut is typical for any of my departures, steady rain, thunderstorms and winds likely. At least I’ll be able to test the new “waterproof” boots.
Spring Raindance
The first IBMC campout of the season once again dodged the New England weather bullet. The rain came through long after the midnight hour last night when Dave and I left the campfire coals and I hit the therm-a-rest.
Friday afternoon was beautiful and even Saturday, albeit overcast most of the day, was a definite keeper as the temps were in the mid sixties and we actually saw the Sun poke through early afternoon on our way back from the Vanilla Bean Cafe in Pomfret.
We met some new members from St. Mary, Pennsylvania that endured a flat on one bike and an incident with a wayward spare trailer tire on the other bike as they made their way from western PA. Even after all of that Dave and Cindy were in decent spirits on arrival.
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During Saturday night’s cookout Pat rolled in followed shortly thereafter by Phil, still somewhat hobbled by last years crash but under his own power and unaided by any artificial hardware. A brief shower pushed us all under the canopy momentarily but being a fast mover we were back around the campfire soon thereafter. New stories were told and old stories were embellished as Dave kept the fire fed.
Last night’s showers waited for all of us to abandon the coals and even stayed away while we all packed up and went our separate ways.
Friday – 350 miles to Ramsey, and a cold beer
Morning brought another sauna-like day. I was on the road by 8 a.m. and was looking forward to getting off the highway. State route 36 would be my yellow brick road as I dodged every threatening thunder storm all the way to Springfield where I picked up 29 and finally 51 south through Pana to Ramsey.
The International Brotherhood of Motorcycle Campers is a diverse collection of motorcycle camping enthusiasts brought together by the enjoyment of the outdoors and the love of camping on two wheels. Loosely organized, the members host campouts in whatever location they choose and notify other members through the web or a newsletter circulated every other month. All types of camping goes and it is not uncommon to have combinations of dual sport bikes, sport tourers, touring bikes and scooters all at the same campout. Accomodations range from the bivouac style to tow behind trailers.
Arriving at the campground I was met by Paul from Illinoise. He was just headed out for refreshments and offered to split his site with me and I immediately agreed. He pointed me to the spot, took my drink order and headed off into town. Great service, huh?
I completed my setup and walked around meeting and greeting everyone. Many of the names were familiar but this was the first time I was putting a face to them. Paul returned, delivered the cold ones and we sat with everyone swapping stories of adventure and disaster. A perfect wind-down from the whirlwind journey I had been on for the past week and a half.
The campout was scheduled for the entire weekend but unfortunately I was headed out the next morning. It was just over 1000 miles from Ramsey to Colchester and I didn’t want to be pulling into my driveway late Sunday evening. A shower, and to bed by 11 p.m. The trip was indeed coming to its final stages.
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