Soupy gunk and mud

“Did it go in?” my neighbor at the KOA asked.

I’ll get to my response later.  This morning while I was loading up Trafalgar, the late arrival in the cabin next door, sauntered over to say good morning.  We asked and replied with the usual questions and answers, and then he said, “I just retired from the Coast Guard a couple of months ago.”

“No shit!” I replied.  That led to a prolonged morning, discussing our old professions, identifying common acquaintances, etc.  Lee Ryan must’ve told an old shipmate about our conversation, because now I have Gordon Rarick as a follower of the blog, at least for the day, bringing the total to five.  Rarick was one of those common friends from our CG past.  Small world, and even smaller Coast Guard.  So, after exchanging the proper credentials, and the secret handshake, I found cheap lodging if ever I’m in New Hampshire (Lee didn’t realize he might see me in 3 days).

I got on 17, bound for my night in Sturgeon Falls.  The eastward journey fluctuated between 40 and 110 KPH, navigating through road construction and several small towns with reduced speed limits.  It was my only real entertainment, although the curves did return, nothing challenging though.  One of the towns, Serpent’s Creek, advertised a Trading Post.  I eagerly looked for a Serpent’s Creek sticker for my boxes amongst the moccasins, but the only thing I found was a conversation with an Indian in white tee shirt and jeans, smoking a cigarette.  He gave me a big thumbs up saying, “Triumph, yes.”  It went on from there, nice chap.  I also rode past two Amish fellers on those recliner bicycles, in full regalia of boots, pants, white shirts, and hats.  Later I cam across several horse drawn wagons, and two teams tied up to a hitching post outside a locale hardware store.

Once in Sturgeon Falls, a yellow sign pointed to the road for the KOA.  I turned as directed, but it came to a T with no other signs.  I guessed, and came to a road closed sign.  The driver of the dump-truck told me the directions, down dirt roads, very much off the beaten path.  I arrived safely and was greeted by a cute blonde, Jenna, with an amazing, effervescent and contagious personality (a senior in HS).  She is the kind of employee any business owner would love to have at the counter.

I parked the bike near the tent site and noticed, I lost one of my shoes?  I have a left shoe, size 11 if anybody is in need of a Vans.  I set up my tent, and in the process I moved the picnic table.  I had set my helmet and riding gear on that table.  The helmet went rolling for the swampy edge of the canal.  I can only imagine the sight I made, leaping for my getaway helmet.  Saved it with only inches to spare!  That would have made for a great experience for the rest of my ride—a helmet filled with a soupy mixture of slim, gunk, and mud.  This is the part where the neighbor comes in, he witnessed the whole debacle.  I replied, “Saved her in the nick of time.”

Later, Jenna brought me wood and more important, my H2O croutons for the whiskey.

It’s off to Renfrew tomorrow.  It has the feel of rain, dang it.