FLCC> Tioghnioga River Valley Tour notes: the view from behind

Mon Sep 3 12:09:04 EDT 2007

(Bill G., pls feel free to forward to your listserv. J.)

FLCCers were sparse on this ride—6 of us--and no Big Horn Veloists in
attendance. Last year three of us did the 76 mile version through Whitney
Point and Marathon; this year a group of us did a 50-mile version through
McGraw. Bill Goffe of the Onondoga Cycling Club led the overall ride again
this year.  At the sign-up sheet, we learned that half the group had left 15
minutes early!  We never did see them. Ben Gray, Evan Palmer-Young (who had
ridden from Ithaca), and Jim Millar went out from our start at Little York
Lake Park with the 10:08am lead group at a 20mph pace.  About 18 miles out,
we moderates including Misty McPhee, David Sahn, Dan Barbasch, Lee Davis,
Chris Newell, and Steve Ransford found Southern Jim waiting for us at the
intersection of Taylor Valley Road and Telephone Rd.  The landscape was
exquisitely bucolic and Chris Newell informed us that dairy farmers are
doing well this year.  The price of milk is $23 per hundred when this time
last year it was $11 per hundred. “Unfortunately, a number of last year’s
dairy farmers didn’t make it, and so aren’t enjoying these boom prices.” 

The first half or so of that most cowless, most forested  portion of the
ride on the Taylor Valley Road is misnamed.  We are actually going up the
Chiningo Creek Valley and then cross a divide into the Mallory Brook Valley
shortly after a (now houseless?) village called Taylor Valley.  I wonder if
these headwater divides remained forested in the pioneer days largely
because there was less water for livestock and agriculture?  Or was it a
central place thing, too far from local commerce, by horse-drawn wagon? We
came within a stone’s throw of the Village of Taylor, where last week the
Grout Brook family was going to live. This week’s interview took place at
our fueling stop in Cincinnatus, a picturesque little town a few miles south
of Taylor, with a couple who were the antithesis of the Grout Brooks. 

Coming out of the gas station with my Gatorade and oatmeal raison cookie, I
notice a dazzling fire-engine red H2 Hummer being fueled at the pumps by a
man who reminds me of Jesse Ventura.  He is large-framed and has a confident
(well, Misty used the word, arrogant) air about him.  As he is busy at the
pump, I strike up a conversation with Mrs. H2, who is mid-30s and wearing
sunglasses, a snug black satin tank top and a ring with a large diamond. She
has short straight hair in jaunty disarray, sort of like the woman in the
Audrey Edelman real estate ad, except brunette.  

I launch into my dialogue without realizing that Mr. H2 is Paul Tuttle, Sr.,
the gris eminence of the Discovery Channel program, American Chopper, a
program I have never heard of, but I’ve since been given to understand it is
all about large motorcycles.  Coincidentally, there is a 1450cc Harley
Davidson at the other pump, whose owner later sets me straight about who is
who in chopper land. 

JD: Great car!  How do you like it? 

Ms. H2: We love it!  You just can’t beat it. We feel so safe in it.

I think of the broken remains of the Hummer shown in the morning’s HYPERLINK
"http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/02/magazine/02iraq-t.html?pagewanted=2&ref=m
agazine"Sunday New York Times Magazine, the front end blown completely off
by an IED on the southern outskirts of Baghdad, the new high-risk American
alliances with Sunni extremists very much in question.  So, is it same
strokes for different folks, or do some of our wealthy elite just pretend
they live in a MASH sitcom? 

JD: I guess if you collide with another SUV, you definitely end up on top.
And what a great color! You almost have to wear sunglasses to look at it.
But, what about gas mileage? 

Ms. H2: Oh, it’s about 12 miles to the gallon. It’s well worth it though.
It’s sooo heavy. 

I decide Mrs. Grout Brook is more real. 

At this point, David, who is also swilling Gatorade, has sidled up to Mr.
H2, who is done pumping and by his demeanor is showing signs of having
watched one Jesse Ventura video too many.  

DS: Are those 22” chrome wheels? 

H2: Actually, these are the 24” wheels.  And, they recently came out with
the 26”ers.

This is clearly a Hummer on steroids, jacked up to much more than the normal
clearance to allow the big wheels. (My van runs 15” wheels.) I suppose the
roll-over quotient goes up exponentially.  Have the H2s checked out the
capacity of the Cortland emergency room recently? 

DS: And the low-profile tires. 

H2: Yes, very smooth. 

The conversation more-or-less peters out at this point, not that David isn’t
making a valiant effort.  The H2s give dubious glances at our equipment. Our
wheels are bigger diameter-wise, but It’s clear that we don’t measure up.
We are not kindred spirits. They know. We know. They hit the road. As the
flaming red H2 rushes west toward Cortland,  one of the Harley owners
informs us that the H2s own a cabin in the nearby hills.  So they are
neighbors of the Grout Brooks!   That evening I listen again to HYPERLINK
"http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2007/09/01/magazine/20070802_PARTNERSHIP
_FEATURE.html"Michael Gordon narrating the horrific series of events on
August 4th in Hawr Rajab.  I bristle at the emphasis of the editing: the
three American fatalities are scrubbed nameless from the narrative without
photos (Pentagon rules: airbrush the dead; sanitize the narrative). It ends
with the upbeat information that the scholarly Colonel Odum himself—son of a
well-known general--has survived being blown from the first Hummer to be
demolished and is making his recovery at an air base far from the fray in
Alaska.    

Leaving Cincinnatus, Lee Davis, a botanist who has just moved to Syracuse
from the Chapel Hill area, informs us that the full name of the large
Catalpa in Cincinnatus is Catalpa bignoides, also known as the Golden Indian
Bean Tree.  Once again out on the open road,  we pass the Samuel G. Hatheway
House.  Hatheway came to Cincinnatus in 1805, building his stately limestone
block mansion in 1844 and dying there in 1867. Southern Jim elicits a
chuckle when he observes it may have been the first Halfway House. It’s
definitely got the “in-the-middle-of-nowhere” isolation. Coming into Corning
at Port Watson (where’s the water?), we pass the HYPERLINK
"http://zoggauctions.com/history.htm"Xenodocha Stock Farm, a good place to
pick up a few more animals if you arrive on the right day of the month
(Where’s the beef?)

Once in Cortland, Chris peels off for his home in Homer. We head up 281 for
Little York and Upper Little York Lake, passing the thriving barbecue place
in Pratt Corners. Odd how during the entire loop, the headwind never really
seemed to leave us. Once we are loaded and driving back down 281, we see Ben
Gray and young Palmer-Young close to the finish, having just done the long
version. Phew, were they just more focused? 

Ride safe,   John

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