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Ride It Like You Mean It |
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July 2001 Volume 2, Number 3 Lauranne covers the WIW Rendevous ============= Member of
Women in the Wind
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Rendevous Women in the Wind by Lauranne Bailey At 5 a.m. I could hear the mockingbirds' familiar whistle weave through my open window and into my REM sleep. I quietly shuffled through the house to throw my jeans in the dryer and began my morning yoga and weightlifting routine. My faithful pooch, Gypsy Rose, joined me on the floor, hoping to catch a few extra scratches behind the ears.
Today would be the third annual Ride to the Rendezvous with my Women in the Wind, Sisters of the Moon Chapter. Harriet, a woman who rode down from Peshtigo (three hours northeast of Madison), arriving at my home by midnight Friday, was sleeping in the next room and this would be her first weekend ride with the chapter.
I had done most of my packing the night before: a change of clothes, rain gear, flashlight, tent, sleeping bag, sunscreen, power bars and pretzels, water, camera, map, mobile phone, assorted gloves, helmet, leathers, journal, tool kit, extra bungeees, and hat (for that glorious helmet hair). This morning, I just needed to hit the shower and be ready for departure at 8 a.m.
I woke Harriet at 7 a.m. and she and I were raring to go at 8 a.m. when Sue "Sparks" showed up. We waited another 15 minutes for Cindy "Brusher" to arrive, and as we were leaving, my husband Merle was lamenting the fact he chose to stay home and work on house projects. He was invited to go earlier, but to act on his last minute waffling would have meant delaying our trip by at least an hour and putting out others who were meeting us at other checkpoints.
So we said our good-byes and off we rode, out of Madison and into the rolling landscape toward Cross Plains. There we picked up Terri "Indy" and headed west on Highway 14 to meet another couple, Melody and Rodney at the Mazo Deli for our warm-up breakfast.
Now some people might have planned their bike trip to ask the riders to eat before saddling up, but our chapter enjoys the camaraderie of mealtime, and we take advantage of it when we can. It is part of our weekly Wednesday night rides, as well…a ride to dinner and back.
I have been a member of Women in the Wind, Sisters of the Moon Chapter since December 1993. I barely had my motorcycle endorsement for six months, and I knew I wanted to connect with other women who rode bikes. With three other women, I started up our chapter. As a women's group, we have seen members come and go--some have family obligations, some move, some stay members and we don't see much of them, others find they liked to be around their partners' clubs more.
We ride because we love the sport. When we stop, to eat, to stretch, to fill up with gas, we scatter tidbits of our lives to those around us. We relate the cager incident five minutes before that startled us, we spill the fear we felt over the dog running at us on the country road, we laugh with forgiveness about a partner who is amazed at our passion for the road, we bemoan our desk job that keeps us from the road, or we retell the horrors of previous bike accidents..
And we are compassionate with one another. We bend more with the road. If a woman is not comfortable going over 55, we stay at 55. If she is leery of corners, we wait for her to catch up. Our riding time is a chance for women to stretch their wings, to cast away the responsibilities of children, home, job, family, and to open their life to possibilities they might not have dreamed even five or ten years ago.
And so after our hearty breakfast, with the seven us getting to know a little more about each other, we headed out to traverse the Wisconsin River westward to meet its confluence with the Mississippi River near Prairie du Chien. Six brands of motorcycles were represented: Honda, Yamaha, Triumph, Harley, Suzuki, BMW.
Our ride is filled with goldfinches streaking across our path, eagles swooping majestic swirls, and the Lower Wisconsin River Waterway winking diamonds in our eyes as we ride by. We take the better part of the day to reach the mighty Mississippi, as western Wisconsin is full of sweeping hills and valleys and some of the best paved roads around. Because of the numerous milking farms, our state government keeps as many roads as possible paved to keep the milk supply flowing. At times, when running through forested tracts, I could almost imagine I was back on the Blue Ridge Parkway of the Appalachians. Our camping destination was Wyalusing State Park, perched high atop towering cliffs, and Point Lookout sends your vista into Iowa or a look straight down shows the Wisconsin flowing into the Mississippi. Wyalusing is a Munsee-Delaware Indian word meaning "home of the warrior."
We set up our tents and bivouacs at a group camp site and then rode to the 26th Prairie Villa Rendezvous held on historic St. Feriole Island of Prairie du Chien. The Rendezvous and events similar to it across the country is where a group of people interested in pre-1840s history, gather together to sell homemade items such as buckskin clothing, beaded strips, fur pelts, Indian tacos, fresh-made kettle corn, blacksmith items, homemade root beer.
There were knife, hawk, and bullwhip competitions, and not much different than bikers, the buckskinners camped out together on this island and reveled in their mutual passion. After sampling some foods and looking at wares for a few hours, we headed back to the group camp to drink a few beers, cook some s'mores, and swap more stories of the road.
Sunday morning found us heading across the Mississippi to Iowa, through Marquette, then south to McGregor, and then our next stop is brunch in Guttenberg at the Guttenberg River Inn and Café. After a pleasant meal under the direction of Chef Kendall Clark (who we offered to hold hostage on one of our bikes so he could cook for all of our outings, complete with chef's hat bungeed to the packs), we went to Lock and Dam #10 (compliments of our U.S. Army Corp of Engineers) for pictures and another look at those gargantuan barges snailing downstream.
Just south of Gutttenberg we took a very, long, hot, slow ride of several miles down a gravel road to catch the ferry to Wisconsin, via Cassville. From there, it's hours more of winding, twisting roads through small towns and grand vistas of Blue Mounds, a rising ridge seen for miles around where the glacier stopped many eons past. And too soon, we must stop to return to family commitments and responsibilities. Next month: Biker Betty tells about her trip to Women in the Wind Summer Nationals in San Bernardino, California, adding a little history of this club she belongs to. |
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