09-21-2017, 07:32 AM
This is my 4th summer of motorcycling after a 25 year hiatus. But I am already getting bored riding the same paved twisty roads. So yesterday I wandered off my planned route to see if the Burnt Bridge Road from Palmer Rapids was paved yet. It is a road I tried with my CB500XA a few years ago and gave up a mile in because of the loose sand and ruts.
But because of all the rain this summer the lumber trucks had pounded the sand flat and firm. Well the first 5 miles anyway. Too late to turn back now, so I persisted.
A 560 pound motorcycle with skinny road tires does not make a good motocross bike. Miss Piggy repeatedly wagged her rear end in the increasing number of sand washes on the uphill slopes, and refused to go where she was pointed on the downhill ones. Oh why didn't I buy a Jeep I kept thinking to myself?
After what seemed to be hours of white knuckle riding and cussing my fat and contrary steed, I finally reached the Madawaska River and the new concrete and steel bridge that replaced the wooden one.
Nice scenic spot to stop for a badly needed rest. Too bad I didn't have my fishing gear with me. If only I had a Jeep, I could leave it in the back so it’s always there.
Time to journey on. According to my previous information the paved Boulter Road is just a few miles west from the bridge. Nope. I slide down a hill in first gear where the Burnt Bridge Road ends at the Hass Brown Road?
Which way I wonder? I know I want to go south on the Boulter Road. But this road had a steep and sandy valley to the south. I make the left turn south, waddling and cussing all the way down the hill. I stop at the bottom and look up at this steep and sandy hill facing me. I change my mind. Which was fortunate, as I find out later this treacherous road ends about 10 miles down.
Back up the hill and a mile or so later I turn onto another sandy road heading west. After passing a few dishevelled houses the road ends at another unfamiliar sandy road.
Now men don’t ask for directions right? But I had enough slip sliding around on unfamiliar roads. So I go back to the houses, pull in a laneway and shut the bike off. The curtain of the door flickers and three barking dogs come out as the door closes. Well better than a shotgun toting red neck I thought.
So I take off my helmet and sun glasses. After seeing a gray haired old fart sitting on a quietly parked motorcycle a safe distance away, the lady of the house decides I look harmless enough. She opens the door, but remains safely in the house. I am lost I say sheepishly.
She gives me the directions to the Boulter Road. I thank her politely as the door closes. The dogs are fascinated with this iron horse, but quickly scatter and bark loudly as I start up and leave.
A couple more miles sliding around in the sand and I finally reach the Boulter Road. But I am faced with large orange signs telling me the road is under construction. Why me Lord?
Fortunately they turn out to be short patches of sand and gravel here and there that I can navigate at highway speed without Miss Piggy fussing too much.
As I am rolling along I rule out thoughts of exploring the Moccasin Lake Road or Trout Lake Road. ......Unless the boss will let me trade in her Impala LTZ on a Jeep.
But because of all the rain this summer the lumber trucks had pounded the sand flat and firm. Well the first 5 miles anyway. Too late to turn back now, so I persisted.
A 560 pound motorcycle with skinny road tires does not make a good motocross bike. Miss Piggy repeatedly wagged her rear end in the increasing number of sand washes on the uphill slopes, and refused to go where she was pointed on the downhill ones. Oh why didn't I buy a Jeep I kept thinking to myself?
After what seemed to be hours of white knuckle riding and cussing my fat and contrary steed, I finally reached the Madawaska River and the new concrete and steel bridge that replaced the wooden one.
Nice scenic spot to stop for a badly needed rest. Too bad I didn't have my fishing gear with me. If only I had a Jeep, I could leave it in the back so it’s always there.
Time to journey on. According to my previous information the paved Boulter Road is just a few miles west from the bridge. Nope. I slide down a hill in first gear where the Burnt Bridge Road ends at the Hass Brown Road?
Which way I wonder? I know I want to go south on the Boulter Road. But this road had a steep and sandy valley to the south. I make the left turn south, waddling and cussing all the way down the hill. I stop at the bottom and look up at this steep and sandy hill facing me. I change my mind. Which was fortunate, as I find out later this treacherous road ends about 10 miles down.
Back up the hill and a mile or so later I turn onto another sandy road heading west. After passing a few dishevelled houses the road ends at another unfamiliar sandy road.
Now men don’t ask for directions right? But I had enough slip sliding around on unfamiliar roads. So I go back to the houses, pull in a laneway and shut the bike off. The curtain of the door flickers and three barking dogs come out as the door closes. Well better than a shotgun toting red neck I thought.
So I take off my helmet and sun glasses. After seeing a gray haired old fart sitting on a quietly parked motorcycle a safe distance away, the lady of the house decides I look harmless enough. She opens the door, but remains safely in the house. I am lost I say sheepishly.
She gives me the directions to the Boulter Road. I thank her politely as the door closes. The dogs are fascinated with this iron horse, but quickly scatter and bark loudly as I start up and leave.
A couple more miles sliding around in the sand and I finally reach the Boulter Road. But I am faced with large orange signs telling me the road is under construction. Why me Lord?
Fortunately they turn out to be short patches of sand and gravel here and there that I can navigate at highway speed without Miss Piggy fussing too much.
As I am rolling along I rule out thoughts of exploring the Moccasin Lake Road or Trout Lake Road. ......Unless the boss will let me trade in her Impala LTZ on a Jeep.
