A Cold and Scenic Travelogue

There’s nothing like a cool, crisp morning that turns into a sunny warm day for a day-long ride on the back of a Harley. You see more from a bike than from a car or truck. You see not only the road beneath, but the sides of the road and the birds overhead. You feel the change of the air as it shifts from pavement-reflected warmth along the interstate to cooler and fresher along little tree-lined roads. You know without looking when you’re passing by or bridging over a stream or river because of the sudden moist chill in the air and the smell of the water. You’re more fully connected with and part of nature on a bike, even more so than rolling all four windows of your car down and allowing the wind to gush in and cause a racket.

Of course, then there are those days when a cool, crisp morning turns into a cloudy, colder, rainy day. That’s not great bike weather, and you better hope you’ve remembered to pack your rain gear, but a cold, damp day on a bike is still more soul-refreshing than a day in a car.

This is true even when you’re easily cold and completely un-enamored with being cold and if it takes you two days to warm up again.

Over the weekend, that’s the kind of day my husband and I had when we agreed to meet a friend from New York (state, not city) and have lunch and cruise around in between our two home areas. We started off chilly, drove up into the rain, and kept counting on the weather prediction of clearing skies and 70 degrees. Neither happened.

Ah well. We still put over 340 miles on the bike in one day and I, of course, had my camera in hand. Here’s some of what we saw:

As it’s mid-September, the trees in northwestern PA are turning all shades of fall. The hovering mist and clouds interfere a bit with the crispness of the colors, but it does add a soft variation.

Our meeting point was a little NY town called Hamburg where I had some incredible chocolate chip pancakes (yes, I splurged) and coffee to add fuel for the rest of the day. From there, we moved down farther south through back roads and farm land and Amish country.   

A tip: while in Amish country on a bike, watch carefully for slippery obstructions from the horses! We managed to avoid this pitfall, thank goodness!

Heading toward Jamestown, we were treated to a few pretty lakes and ponds. Have I said how much I love water? As we passed by, I thought this would be a wonderful place to set a chair and sit and write or read or daydream (writers must daydream, after all) on a warmer, dryer day.

Of course, while riding, you can’t pull out a map and ask your passenger where to go from wherever you are, so at one point we pulled into the parking lot of a little marina and grabbed the map from the tour pack. This is somewhere along route 62 and I think we were still in NY.

Had I known that next door to Jamestown is a little town called Lakewood, NY, I would have asked the guys to take a little buzz over in that direction so I could get a photo of the town sign. Why? Rehearsal is set in Lakewood. Okay, so my Lakewood is actually a fictional town in Massachusetts, but it would still be fun to post the town sign that matches my imaginary town. Yes, I’m easily amused.

I also wished I’d had the camera ready when we passed someone’s yard. They had a sign advertising something that had “Aim High” in big letters. [A- hem.. Highest Aim] *shrug*

Moving along, the parking area was bordered by alternating rows of these shrubs. I’ve no idea what they are, but they are beautiful. Aren’t they?

As this was quite the long trip and I’m being rather long-winded about sharing it, I’ll save the rest for tomorrow.


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Artistic Eye: in photos

Art is a way of seeing.

That’s far from a new thought, but yesterday I posted a few photos of a local park in the blog I set up for my county to show the area in all its glory. I posted the link in my Facebook and received a comment about my “artistic eye.” That’s what art is all about: seeing things in a different viewpoint, looking more deeply and at different angles to find details. I’m not sure if it can be taught fully, but there are techniques anyone can use to see things more artistically.

I’m not a good teacher. I never have been. I found this back when trying to help my kids with their homework. Understanding and teaching are different. However, I’m always willing to share what I’ve learned and thought I’d try today, using other photos from the park that are more artsy than descriptive, if that makes sense.

 
I have a thing for docks. There’s something romantic about an old wooden structure reaching out into the water, a path that leads seemingly nowhere, unless you have an alternate mode of transportation. I don’t see only the dock here. I see the possibility of a small boat coming to its open end, ready for passengers. I see a couple walking out hand-in-hand to the edge and sitting together enjoying the water (or slushy snow in this case) and serenity of nature, wordless, since quiet is a powerful means of communication. I see footsteps in the snow beside it that were there before the weather warmed and made treading out on the pond on foot impossible. I see the shelters in the background amidst the trees that hold the possibility of get-togethers and laughter. I wonder who made the footprints. I wonder if the water is seen as a barrier between the dock and the shelters or a connection. I see the changing season: grass beginning to show on the land while snow and ice still control the water. I see possibility of metaphor.


Angle matters. If I had centered my son in the photo, I wouldn’t see the little pavilion in the background and I wouldn’t get the path of water leading to it. I wouldn’t have the edge of grass that echoes the melting of the ice that echoes the short sleeves. I wouldn’t get the same angle of his head echoing the curve of the pond. There’s always more to a photo than the main subject. Background matters.


Catch the sun in the right place and it will assist your eye and transform your scene. Also, try looking up instead of always out. It’s amazing the beauty you can find just by raising your chin.



Catch the reflections.


And the tracks left by someone else. 

If you’ll return (and you can know I’ve left a new post by subscribing to your right), you’ll soon find more artistic eye entries: in fine art, in writing, in design, and maybe in social issues.

By the way, all photos online are copyright protected by their creators. If you would like to use my photos, please contact me and let me know where and for what. I don’t mind sharing with permission and credit. I have the better, larger versions if there is a good purpose for the larger versions.