Scooter In The Sticks

After I finished my 32 hour, 1500 mile Iron Butt ride I was in no way impaired to keep on riding. I attribute that to my rather fierce exercise regimen at home so when I was faced with a  five hour ride across New York and Pennsylvania from Niagara to State College I was actually looking forward to the ride. Mountains! Curves! No need to log every damned thing! Freedom! Yay!

Besides all that I was going to meet a long time correspondent and I was a bit nervous. Among scooter riders Steve Williams is the author of a photo blog by a man who is a professional photographer,a  gentle soul who wouldn't say boo to a goose. My instructions were to meet at an historic watering hole in his village.

I was nothing loathe as I was curious to see if the local brew tasted the same at home as it does in Florida. No difference that I could tell.  

I was  wind burned and pleased with myself. And I was in Duffy;s Tavern which was a place I had been looking forward to seeing, even if I had misplaced my ears.

Steve showed up and we circled each other drinking beer and talking until eventually he took me to my quarters across the street. Boalsburg reminds me of the little New England town (filmed in California!) which is the setting for the Hitchcock movie "The Trouble with Harry." Steve remarked rather tartly there were no spare bodies floating around Boalsburg. I think they would have found such a thing to be in very poor taste in this delightful small town. 

We drove and that was a thoughtful gesture getting the truck out,  as he probably figured my backside could use the break. Plus we could talk.  I was nervous I was going to piss him off with my odd sense of humor and eccentric view of life. I annoy some people all the time by my inability to take things seriously but luckily unlike those humorless souls Steve has a wicked sense of humor, he sees the droll in daily life and he sees absurdity all around him, including doubtless in me and my ridiculous Iron Butt ride... But he is still the thoughtful, polite easy going guy who writes his page, Scooter in the Sticks. It's funny really how different and how alike we are.

To me Steve represents the quiet steady voice of a man who has found his trade and his place in life without hesitation. He is a Pennsylvania native from Pittsburgh who came to State College for the education and stayed for the job. 44 years on campus as their photographer, a well liked presence at the university over the decades, followed by a secure retirement in the place he never wants to leave and doubtless never will. Shown here outside the exhibit I specifically came to see of his photographs:

You can check his pictures properly on his website and they are worth checking out. Steve got quite a lot of attention from the show and he said civilians wanted the ones without the Vespa which is interesting to me as in my head and other scooterists' he is the Vespa! I unashamedly wanted to crib his technique because his photos are compelling and I couldn't figure out why.

 And there you have it: he is a professional photographer from the era of paper and  and chemicals, he is established and settled, and I am a brash amateur and and as rootless as it's possible to be. But I do have one thing over Steve. Not photography for sure:

I am a traveler and inside this man, who saw his picture and described himself as grizzled, and liked this one because it made him look tall (he is tall from my perspective), Steve wants to travel. He has obligations, his wife needs him near home and he has never had the get up and go to be gone. But he idles his time pondering riding a motorcycle or hitting the horizon. Stuff I've done and would love to accompany him on a trip.

I did get a few photography tips and they are in my head all the time but I have to break my own bad habits which is what I've been working on now I'm home. 

We cruised State College and his alma mater. It turns out the University founder put in a clause requiring that dogs have free rein on campus. Really. I need to bring Rusty to get an education. It turns out nowadays they have to be on leash but that was not always the case. I like this place. Plus they were dancing in front of the main building. 

Steve in his world, a city filled with young people bars, shops and a welcoming downtown. He like me likes to come out ion the middle of the night and walk his dog here. Before he got fed up with me I think we could have a grand time together. 

This is the store front of the worlds largest educational toy shop that sells stuff by mail order. Something like that. A local success story. It looks pretty modest which is I gather the point.

 If you read his blog the Saints Cafe features so we did the obligatory photo but it was closed so I couldn't have the iconic tea and bagel.  But I've been there! 

 My bed and breakfast (dog friendly please note) was super luxurious and I slept like a log after meeting Kim at Steve's house. But I awoke to a crappy wet day. I mentioned to Steve he didn't have to get on the road but he replied over the phone that wet foggy days are best for photography. Lunatic.

We rode off and all I did was follow him. We stopped at a fogged in overlook me feeling like I should be cold but wasn'ty, he looking like a martian: 

Scooters in the fog...I had it all this trip. Steve is very shy about his riding style which is slow and requires much stopping but this was our first time riding together so he gave me the conventional treatment and we wandered up hills and down dales winding and twisting through forests. He pulls over for cars and lets them by which I found quite relaxing as the roads were not terribly crowded and people don't drive like jacked up Floridians with much aggression and low skill.

I guess not yet having met God I must have more road to ride. Steve had wanted to get the picture of the barn for a while so I was glad to be the catalyst for the encounter.

I have ridden eastern Pennsylvania before to visit Jack Riepe and it is a state with crappy road surfaces and superb riding

 Those rolling fields...

 Twists and turns...

 Bucolic countryside...

Hagerstown Maryland was quite industrial once I believe. We stopped here for lunch,   disrobing like monks, layers coming off one after the other and then we tried stretching out the lunch as long as we could. 

 I don't think either of us wanted to part. It was a sensation that was to repeat itself as the ride south continued. I wish I didn't live so far away. Steve felt like an elder brother with so much to teach me, about cameras and thoughtful riding and life itself.

I cannot wait to go back and dither around Mt Nittany until even Steve gets bored.

Art And Life

I went to the Art and History Museum this week in the Custom House on Front Street and I happened upon a quite surprising exhibit. They had  a room filled with Key West Folk Art and I really enjoyed it, even though I had no idea it was there when I went to check out something entirely different.

In point of fact I was looking for a few select pictures taken in Havana in 1933 and at first I couldn't find them! Eventually I happened upon them, unmarked in a side corridor. They merit an essay to themselves too.

It was the folk art exhibit that grabbed me and set me to thinking because it happened that Up North I came across a folk artist of a different stripe who apparently has a large garden exhibit where he used to live in Georgia. I was reading up on this self taught artist Howard Finster and came across a quotation that struck a nerve

The bit that goes "may or may not align with our personal worldview" set me to pondering Art as an expression of religiosity which was Finster's bag as it happens, and clearly is not mine. It struck a nerve because as I started to check out the art work I was struck by the artist's desire to express the word of God through his paintings and yet as I pondered it I thought back to my visit last year to the seat of the Holy Roman Catholic Church in Rome. I never batted an eyelid while viewing the Pieta, now protected behind it's ballistic shield:

Doesn't get much more religious than that. And yet it's just Art in my head. And I know the artists in the Middle Ages were constrained by what the Church would pay for, thus a sculpture could be artfully nude but it had to be out of the Bible to get the artist patronage. I am hoping to visit a dear friend in Florence next year and we shall relive the good old days touring the museums and haunts of our misspent youth. Plenty of religious art to be enjoyed there and like Rome it will just be At of the highest level, a wonder of the world not to be missed but it will be religious. Finstser's art comes from the heart and his heart beat the religious note, not because of patronage but because of belief.  And the argument goes because we don't share the belief we shouldn't dismiss the Art even though it is more contemporary by a long shot than Michelangelo. Fine by me, even if I had to think about  it first!

The reason this debate started running through my head was because when I looked through the folk art exhibit in Key West the religious quotient interestingly enough was minimal. Only one of those on show used religious iconography.  This by Geraldo Alfonso:

What was apparent in almost all the artists represented was that their muse wasn't the Bible but the late Mario Sanchez who was thanks to his fame, a huge source of inspiration for other folk artists in Key West. Thus I got to see an astonishing variety of intaglio artwork, depictions of Key West, and conch cottages. Lovely stuff that I will post over the next few days and not all at once else it would be overwhelming. But not religious.

Key West does set itself apart in so many ways. I guess the artists  who moved to Key West in the good old days were driven in part by that very sense of apartness from their own lives Up North, the need to flee conventional lives when your personality or your beliefs or even something as innate as your sexuality pushed you out of the comfort of belonging. Even for Cubans landing in Key West 60 years of Communism would have driven religion out of many lives, though not all. It's odd to think the regime was so anti- everything Christmas itself was banned until the Pope went on a  visit. So  checking Folk Art from the end of the road it is not going to be art that presses those religious buttons. Does it matter? Not really but I wonder where the religious folk art is in this town. Key West is different, and I like it that way.

The Blue Hole

Let me be quite clear: there were no alligators to be seen at the Blue Hole when I was there on Tuesday. This picture I took in 2014 and I put it here to not disappoint as everyone likes to see alligators apparently:

Here's another one from that same expedition:

This week there were none to be seen. But there were lots of warnings:

I wonder what people bring to feed the alligators? Table scraps? Stinky dead chickens? As for disturbing an alligator, even the relatively small ones that live here you may be doing the human race a favor if you are that stupid. Let it be enough to see and admire. However, as hard as I looked I saw none.

So, what is the Blue Hole?  It's a quarry that has filled with rain water and created a fresh water pond where no ponds or lakes are meant to exist. The limestone rock of the Keys is  porous and the salt water table is not very deep so fresh water lakes are rare except where humans have dug out the rock typically to create construction gravel.

 It is technically a hole.

Though why it's called "Blue" I don't know. See for yourself in these pictures, the water is nondescript and not blue whatever else it is.

It's a pretty spot especially on a wet weekday afternoon in August when tourists are away and alligators rule.

You can and should walk out onto the viewing platform and you may spot a creature basking in the sun in the shallows right underneath the platform itself. It is tempting to get a frisson of fear being so close to an alligator but  it's worth remembering that a recent resident died of starvation after swallowing a plastic toy thrown in the water by an unsupervised child.

 As usual even the most fearsome nature can be overcome by human ingenuity.

 The Keys are small in terms of landmass so as isolated as you may feel in come places on land you are generally never too far from some well trodden path.

You can walk half way round the hole and right up to the edge but the water itself is a foot or so below the level of the rock. Swimming is not advised. I had my old Labrador Cheyenne fall in once and I wasted no time in getting my arms around her portly self and whisking her out. She didn't seem to notice or care but she was a phlegmatic dog was Cheyenne.

Rusty I trust rather more to take care of himself. I have walked him in wilderness and he is very alert to danger. I have seen him in the Everglades turn round and walk smartly back to the car for no reason I could understand but I never argue with his reactions. I don't doubt he saw an alligator or a boa where I could see nothing. He is a survivor is my little brown bundle of joy.

 He  stayed close as we wandered around.

We spent a pleasant half hour taking pictures and taking in the modest views and smelling the interesting scents.

I'm not sure the telescope is much use unless wildlife is present but there it is, a rather nice old timey touch for those that care to spy on nature.

It Comes And Goes

I have received reports from Up North that cold nights are closing in and the end of summer they say  is imminent. Sucks to be them, because down here summer is in full swing. Rusty checking the street before our afternoon walk:

Summer is a rather fluid season in the Keys, a place and time of Nature's choosing, usually between May and November generally consisting of high humidity, intermittent but heavy rain and lots of insect life. It doesn't sound too pleasant but believe me it is often dramatic and beautiful and the other issues you can handle with some help. Air conditioning and bug spray help as well as an umbrella and a cheerful disposition...

Rusty does not like thunder. He doesn't panic but he finds reassurance in being in the car or sleeping on my bed and with the recent approach of some spectacular thunder heads he is quick to retreat to the car for a dry ride home. His wish is my command.

He seems rather less heat resistant now that he lives in cool air, which as it does for humans it appears to reduce his desire or ability to live in the heat. He still likes to sunbathe and hang out outdoors but he has adapted to civilization...

Rain falls at random, some roads are dry and others, like Key Deer Boulevard, have obviously just been rained on. My most recent motorcycle trip pretty much finished off my rain gear so I got some new rubberized clothing and expect I will have to wear it all before too long. You just never know where or when it will start pouring.

It was windy and I stood on the end of Niles Channel Bridge enjoying the stiff breeze while Rusty rooted around.

A  close up through the telephoto showed the sailboat covered in birds, so one can only imagine the mess. It looked so much prettier as a white speck in the distance, anchored behind the hook of Cudjoe Key.

 There is again waiting for the photographer to get a move on.

How could not like summer views like this:

 And here comes the rain to wash off the bird shit:

I switched to black and white as I preferred the ominous look but its really no big deal to drive through as the highway is broad and well marked.

Yesterday was primary day so the wife and I went out and voted. Didn't do much good as most of the candidates we voted for missed the win but this is all they give us to influence things so you have to try. Watching Republicans smother the memory of Senator McCain, a man with lots of faults no doubt, rather makes the taste of politics rather sour. "Nobody's  safe whom we care for none" sang the mischievous little maids in The Mikado. Rendered with more malice these unhappy days.

And so home to my consolation. I have been batting back and forth with a friend the value of alcohol in our respective lives especially since the busybodies have been going to town telling us it is pure poison...and I find I don't miss it terribly now that I am home. I drink tea obsessively. That would be a loss were I to to be told I could no longer drink Yorkshire Tea.