Polar Bear Pocono Putt
By: Chris Loynd
Perhaps riding a motorcycle is like sex; it's more fun if you can
do it different ways. Unwilling to give it up for three months, uh,
motorcycling that is, I decided to find some excuse to get out this
winter. And in exploring frosty motorcycling Kamasutra I
found the Polar Bear Club.
A group of about 500 riders have decided they can't wait until
spring either. So every Sunday from the end of October to the end of
March they gather at a designated location in Delaware, New Jersey,
Pennsylvania or New York. The club is simple yet organized. Anyone
can join. All bikes are welcome. The Polar Bears started in 1977 and
have grown every year. It’s not uncommon to find 300 bikes at the
destination restaurant. |
Scenic Overlook on Route 80 just before Delaware Water Gap. It's not
that cold. Really! |
| Based out of American Motorcyclists
Association District II in New Jersey, Polar Bear Rides are AMA
Sanctioned "Grand Tours." As founder Bob Hartpence explained to me,
AMA affiliation was desirable to cover liability concerns. The
"tour" designation was required because to Bob's knowledge there is
nothing else like the Polar Bear Club in the country. Calling them
tours fit into AMA's closest category, but the rides are really
destinations. The Polar Bear ride concept is wonderfully simple.
Every Sunday you can ride to the published destination. Get there by
any route or method. There are no organized rides once you arrive.
There are no organized routes to the destination. You can ride as a
club or alone. You do not have to join the Polar Bears to
participate. Just show up. You can even come in a car.
But if you want the coveted Polar Bear patch, you must ride your
motorcycle and accumulate 30 points. You get two points for signing
in at each destination, plus one point for every 100 miles round
trip that you ride to get there. Sign-in is between 11:30 am and
1:30 pm. There are 22 Sunday destinations each season. Rack up 30
points and you get the patch (or a rocker for repeat bears). You
also get into the end-of-season Polar Bear banquet for free.
Since the destinations are all a fair reach from home, I figure I
have a good shot at the requisite 30 points. For example, my first
ride netted five points: two for showing up and three more for the
300 miles round trip from Stratford. You are on your honor to
calculate mileage from the most direct route.
My First Polar Bear Ride
For me, Schoch's Harley-Davidson in Snydersville, PA was the
first destination that fit my schedule, my sense of my own riding
limits and the weather. (Wish I'd found out about the Polar Bears
earlier in autumn.) The dealership is just past Delaware Water Gap
where Route 80 crosses from New Jersey into Pennsylvania. MapQuest
said two hours 20 minutes. It took me a bit less than three hours
one way.
Leaving Bridgeport Harley at 9:30 a.m. I shot down I-95 headed
for I-287 and the Tappan Zee. Ever mindful for black ice and sand,
the expressways were delightfully clear. I held the speedometer at a
pretty steady New York metropolitan number the whole way.
By design, my first stop was the Darien rest area on I-95. A
short 30 minutes, I figured it was a long enough stretch to see how
my insulation was working. As I suspected, I made a few adjustments,
tucking a few spots a little tighter and dialing up the thermostat
just a bit more on my Harley heated gloves. I also planned my first
stop to reflect for a few minutes on how I felt, contemplate how I
was riding, and decide if this was truly as good an idea as I
thought.
Before I left, I made a pact with myself that I was riding for
fun. No heroism required. "If I'm cold by Stamford, I'll warm up
with a cup of coffee then head back home," I told myself and my wife
Cynthia. "I don't need to prove anything. I just want to see what it
feels like."
Cynthia's used to such things. We lived in Milwaukee for a few
years a few years back. We moved there in October. And before the
boxes were unpacked we were both amazed to hear the local TV
weatherman on the ten o'clock evening news say that with wind chill
the outside temperature is 100 degrees BELOW zero. I started getting
dressed. Cynthia considered me for a moment and asked the obvious,
"You're going out?" I said, "Hey aren't you curious? A hundred
degrees below zero. I want to see what it feels like."
Just 30 minutes into my Polar Bear ride I was quite comfortable.
No serious wind leaks. My hands, chest and, surprisingly, toes were
all toasty. My knees were cooler, but not uncomfortably cold.
Traffic was light, the bike was running just fine, I decided to ride
a little more.
An hour later, I wasn't so sure anymore. As I merged from I-287
onto Route 80 I was starting to wonder if I wanted to keep going or
turn back. For one thing, I-287 after the Tappan Zee is a drag. Most
of it is not very scenic. A lot of it runs through ugly man-made
canyons of some kinda chain link fence filled with broken stone
noise barriers. The road surface is beautiful. The traffic is light.
But the ride is dull. And that dullness let the discomforts creep
into my psyche. For another thing, the sun that started with me was
now gone, replaced by those low, slate gray clouds that bespeak of
snow. But Route 80 seemed like a destination, so I figured I would
ride at least that far. |
| A short way up Route 80, and not really sure how far
along I was in my journey, I truly needed a break. Just as my trip
odometer neared 100 miles a Dunkin' Donuts logo appeared on those
signs that indicate services at the next exit. What a hoot! I'll
stop, warm up, abuse some caffeine and sucrose, then take a picture
for my fellow HOGs who seem to include a Dunkin' Donuts on every
run. Even though I had only been riding for about two hours, the
break worked its magic. A small black coffee, cruller and scant 15
minutes were all I needed. I was again thoroughly warm,
enthusiastic, optimistic and ready to ride. Delightedly, I soon
discovered I was actually a lot closer than I realized. Delaware
Water Gap came up in less than 30 minutes after my second break.
Just over the Delaware River bridge a large billboard announced I
was only eight miles away from the Harley dealership. A little shout
of triumph erupted inside my helmet, "Yeah! I did it." |
Although it was not
an official Bridgeport H.O.G. event, I still made the obligatory
stop. This is mile 100 on the way out. |
| In no time at all, I arrived to a
parking lot full of bikes of every description. There were plenty of
Harleys, plus Gold Wings, Beemers, a few trikes and even a scooter
and one of the new Triumphs. I noted that while most had windshields
there were a few -- also Harleys -- that were full-in-the-wind like
me. Inside I found that Polar Bears are truly very warm. I signed
my first log-in sheet and paid my $18 annual fee. I am now a Polar
Bear Flight B. As I mulled around I struck up a few conversations.
Everyone was very friendly and we had that instant bonding of folks
who have shared an ordeal or met a challenge. This was less
monochromatic than most motorcycle gatherings I've attended. There
were plenty of us creaking in black leathers. But you also had men
and women swishing in FirstGear and Aerostitch riding suits of
various gray, blue and red hues. And everyone clumped, clumped,
clumped across the floor in riding boots. The dealership has its own, private Harley museum on
its second floor, around the edges of a large room. In the center
were long tables and chairs. Mrs. Schoch treated us to free split
pea soup, chili con carne and coffee. |
| The split pea soup alone was
worth the ride. I had two helpings. Riders were sitting or standing
and eating and talking and just walking around. I did a bit of all
these, but was soon enough anxious to start back. My plan was to
have the big Springer in the garage before the sun was completely
down. And this time of year that's not so easy. Why is it that the
ride back always seems shorter? I stopped for a brief moment at a
scenic overlook on I-80, eastbound now, where I asked a cager to
take my picture (shown at the top of this article). I drew a lot of
interest from my fellow travelers warmly ensconced in their heated
automobiles. A few even left their cocoons to talk with me. The
question on everyone's mind: "Are you cold?"
My gas warning light blinked on shortly after I started up I-287.
I made a quick stop, gas only, and was on my way again. Going back I
opted to take the Merritt instead of I-95. I was a little worried
about ice patches on the edge of the narrower lanes. But everything
was still liquid. In every case there was always room in my travel
lane to avoid the puddles. |
Schoch's
Harley-Davidson. "Pocono Mountain High." 150 miles exactly on the
trip O.D. Might make a nice destination ride next year. They have a
small museum on the second floor with an impressive collection of
vintage Harleys, even a H-D snowmobile. |
| One more stop was required. This time,
the discomfort had more to do with the coffee and soup I drank back
at Schoch's Harley, rather than the cold. I made it a quick stop.
Didn't even take off my helmet. Just walked into the Greenwich rest
stop on the Merritt in my “spaceman” suit. By now I was
comfortably cool. Parts were toasty warm. Other body parts were on
the cooler side, but not cold, well not terribly cold. Besides,
since this was the return trip I now knew exactly where I was, could
calculate how much longer to home, and was anxious to get there. Now
discouragement was easily replaced with confidence. I rolled into my
driveway around 4:00 p.m. not the least bit worse for any wear. But
I didn't put the bike away just yet. |
| I let it cool in the driveway while I went in and
made myself a hot chocolate. A bit later, now in the dark, I heeded
Stan's warning and washed the Springer from top to bottom. I rinsed
with lots of water, then soaped, then rinsed a lot more. You KNOW
you're a Harley rider when you spend all day on the bike and then
another hour washing it! I did the best I could to clean and dry my
bike. Then I rolled it into the garage, onto its winter plywood
base, and plugged in the battery tender. Then, and only then, did I
finally take off the boots and warm my toes next to our coal stove.
This time I put a little something extra in the hot chocolate. I was
warm, thoroughly warm, relaxed and savoring my small victory.
Gauging from the crust on my helmet's face shield, I did pick up
plenty of salt dust. Well if the bike's chrome still pits, it is a
price I am willing to pay. If you're worried about the salt spray
and sand, or if you're one of those folks with their bike in a
bubble, this may not be for you. I bought a Harley to ride it. Surely it
is a wonderful bonus if the bike looks good. Even so, a good ride is
more important to me than beauty. Ah, but I lapse again into sexual
metaphors. |
Finally, fully warm.
Want to join me on the next Polar Bear ride? We meet at Dunkin'
Donuts nearest Bridgeport Harley, around 8 a.m. for most rides. Call me at: 377-8852 or e-mail:
chris@influentialcom.com |
Interested?
Anyone reading this is welcome to join me on my
next Polar Bear ride. For most rides we meet at the Dunkin' Donuts
nearest Bridgeport Harley, Lordship Blvd. and Honeyspot Rd., at 9:15
a.m. The Polar Bears ride every Sunday from the last weekend in
October to the last weekend in March. You can find everything you
need to know on the Polar Bear website: www.PolarBearGrandTour.com
You can call me: 203-377-8852 or send me an e-mail:
chris@influentialcom.com
You may also want to check out my
CT Polar Bear Blog with tips on cold weather riding, more links
and a weekly update of our cold weather adventures.
Epilogue
The uncertainty of my first ride, described
above, made it the most exciting. By now I’ve ridden five Polar Bear
seasons, most with fellow H.O.G.s.
My favorite Polar Bear experience so far was
getting caught in a snow squall coming across the Tappan Zee Bridge.
I had stopped to warm up at the last rest stop on the Garden State.
Mild and scattered flurries were falling when I walked into the
building. Not 15 minutes later it was snowing pretty hard. So I’m
out in the parking lot dragging my boot across the pavement to see
if it’s just wet or icy. Nope, looks like it’s just wet. I decide to
go.
Meanwhile, this guy walks up to me while I’m
out there in the parking lot in my “spaceman” suit getting ready.
“You riding a motorcycle?” he asked. “Yea. The snow isn’t sticking
yet,” I replied. “My God that’s crusty!” he blurted, then hurried on
inside.
Well now that I’m “crusty” I figure I gotta go.
The road stayed wet. But I was colder than the road so the snow
started building up on me. Visibility dropped and I kept wiping the
snow building up on my helmet visor. Plus the cold snow made the
visor fog, so I had to ride with it cracked open a bit. Up and over
the Tappan Zee Bridge was the worst. By the time I rolled off of
I-287 onto I-95, it was back to flurries. The road never got more
slippery than it does in a summer rain. But the bike and I were
covered in snow.
Our Polar Bear riders have become more fanatic
over the years. For the 2006/07 season we had two perfect attendance
riders and I made all but one ride. It is great fun and really not
so challenging as you might think.
At
the end of the season there's a Polar Bear banquet and a seminar on
"How to Store Your Bike for the Summer." Hope you can join us.
Otherwise, see you in the Spring!
Chris Loynd |
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