Two Wheels To There

Two Wheels To There

Two Wheels To There

  • TALES
  • “THERE”
  • THE STABLE
  • PROFILES
  • SHOUT-OUTS
  • COPYRIGHT © 2023
  • View twowheelstothere’s profile on Facebook
  • View @2wheelstothere’s profile on Twitter
  • View twowheelstothere’s profile on Instagram
  • View ryaustin’s profile on Pinterest
  • View RyAustin’s profile on Google+

Pherther-Grams

twowheelstothere

The mid-May weekend was looking decent, so Surtch Pherther, jonesing for a desert rip, would hit dirt again. He’d aimed to dark-wander with good tunes and smoke, but ride-tired and for the week’s work and a nightfall chill, was fine turning in early to breeze on the fly and nothin’ otherwise. The next morn, he tracked dawn up a near, near-familiar ridge for fossil-hunting and a sudden snake-watch after a biggun rattled itself know, and then throttled off for fuel, food, and a Bud at a state-line oasis, where he met two dudes who’d cycle-slogged two-hundred-fifty-ish miles through downpours and desert heat just to carve a glacier.

View

Jun 9

Open
The mid-May weekend was looking decent, so Surtch Pherther, jonesing for a desert rip, would hit dirt again.  He’d aimed to dark-wander with good tunes and smoke, but ride-tired and for the week’s work and a nightfall chill, was fine turning in early to breeze on the fly and nothin’ otherwise.  The next morn, he tracked dawn up a near, near-familiar ridge for fossil-hunting and a sudden snake-watch after a biggun rattled itself know, and then throttled off for fuel, food, and a Bud at a state-line oasis, where he met two dudes who’d cycle-slogged two-hundred-fifty-ish miles through downpours and desert heat just to carve a glacier.

Almost Ice in August – 2009.08.08

Published on February 13, 2015 by Ry Austin 1 Comment

Surtch Pherther had merely to squeeze the Vespa’s brake levers for a safe approach to the Tillage station… Somehow he managed, slowing in a wide arc through the lot to a spot near the doors of the welcome refuge.

“Damn,” hollered his brother, rolling in on the right, punctuating with exaggerated flexing of his left hand, “I almost couldn’t slow it down–clutch, shift, brakes, you name it.”

“Yeah, tell me about it, and I just have brakes to control.”

3.2009.08.08

Eager to get inside and get hot coffee inside of them, they removed their thin gloves and their glasses and helmets while shivering toward the doors. For the wet and cold in which they’d been immersed for nearly two hours, every movement was a challenge, even thought and speech were slow. Needless to say, they left on their coats and other layers, foolishly few as they’d worn.

4.2009.08.08

They had set off that morning in the face of a rainstorm threat–a threat that by north DeLusiville had become a promise, and just before Call’s Mill, a bully. Surtch had wanted to stop at Lutrec Marsh to gather any leftover magic from the year before, but such weather is only for curses.

In Agton Canyon the downpour really set in, and with each slight gain in elevation, the degrees dropped, until–at the pass, just a mile or so from the Tillage station–they hit a ride low of thirty-four Fahrenheit. Wet is wet; cold can mean discomfort; windy cold can be dangerous; but from all the time they’d spent in the harsh outdoors, the brothers knew that cold and wet in riding wind can be deadly, especially for the underprepared. Hypothermia is, after all, a skilled and silent seducer.

5.2009.08.08

For about an hour at the corner booth they cupped large coffees in their convulsively shivering hands and tried not to shake too many crumbs from the donuts they’d bought. Fortunately, by the time they suppressed the storm’s effects, the dense overcast was breaking. It wasn’t exactly warm out, but afternoon sunlight was shining through. Surtch picked up the last of his groceries and packed his cooler, reluctantly scooping ice with his bare hands.

6.2009.08.08

“Shit, man, that’s hardcore,” said a guy walking by, pointing at the laden scooter, “Did y’all come over the top?”

“Yeah, ‘bout an hour ago, all the way from the City of Contradictions. It was thirty-four up there.”

“Shit…,” shaking his head as he entered the station.

Across the lot, Surtch’s brother idled in wait at road’s edge. Surtch rolled up on the right, nodded, and after a moment, seconds before throttling onto the highway, casually said, “You know, I’m considering getting a motorcycle”.

10.2009.08.08

Filed Under: Lake Mackenzie, Vespa Tagged With: agton canyon, brother, camping, family, lutrec marsh, storms

Sunlight for the Shelf – 2008.08.10

Published on February 13, 2015 by Ry Austin 1 Comment

The gravel shifted and crunched under the Vespa’s wheels as Surtch Pherther coasted to a stop in the turnout for Lutrec Marsh. He switched off the ignition, slid from the seat, and raised the scooter onto its stand. Nearby were picnic tables in a small pavilion. He walked over and plunked his full daypack onto the one closest to the grass, the reeds, the water.

0.2008.08.10

From the pack, he retrieved a spoon and an applesauce cup, some mixed berry breakfast bars, and the small thermos he’d filled with hot coffee that morning. From the clear blue, just above the skyline of the Mackenzie River Range, the morning sun shined: Everything touched by its light began to warm from the night. And from the marsh came the murmur of myriad small creatures–insects, critters, and birds, birds, birds. Though the day was still young for man, marsh life had been up for hours.

2.2008.08.10

He’d departed the City of Contradictions well before dawn and had quietly ridden through dark DeLusiville, sleepy Fenview, and awaking Hampton Ford. He would soon fuel up in nearby Agton, pass through its long canyon, and then gather final groceries in Tillage. That afternoon he would wander the beach of large Lake Mackenzie, that evening savor a campfire with some of his family, and that night doze tented from a raging thunderstorm. The next day, with Monks Valley and South Morgan Canyon and Nomads Draw still before him, he would slow-dance with dusk in the evening chill across Waveridge Pass.

3.2008.08.10

Yet this moment–a warming morning amid marsh-life murmur–would be the one to keep, the one to shelve within reach, the one to save for when life would again be cold, for when the metropolis would again get noisy, for when folks would again be cruel.

Two guys with a rowboat rolled in off the pavement as Surtch was finishing breakfast. It was time for him to leave.

Filed Under: Lake Mackenzie, Vespa Tagged With: agton canyon, camping, family, lutrec marsh, storms