Day Two of the Adventure

Is it possible to have an off road adventure, ice cream run, general store shopping spree, and be forcibly removed by an odd looking Quik-Way gas station clerk all in a 12 hour period of day light? Well, abso-freakin’-lootely, and it wasn’t that hard to do.

After waltzing through a night in the ever peaceful Arctic State Forest, we happy DVG members were back at it again. Having just been woke up by Bill’s bus’ retro fitted loudspeaker I was a tad disorientated. Waking to an electronic screech would be normal for, say, a city, but here? In the middle of no where just past the logging trail and the crazy cat lady’s cave? It was pretty neat thinking back on it.

Gleefully frying eggs from my chickens combined with local bread and tasty peppers we started our day. Luckily John documented the egg-fest to preserve for our grandchildren. Just think of those colors, those buses, that damn Chevy, and those wonderful stoves. Does a state forest constitute as an unusual location for a camp stove exhibition? One would think so… yet the best camp stove exhibition east of the Mississippi was found in the woods of upstate New York that weekend. After breakfast we started to plan our day. Further down the road toward Masonville was a little old logging trail well used by the local hicks with their monster pickups, but we were sure you didn’t need four wheel drive to get where we were goin’, and we were spot on in that prediction.

After cleaning up our breakfast mess (Ramen noodles, Josh? Ya’ fool!) we packed up and began the brief journey to our source of back woods fun. Leaving our campsite without running into a stump or a branch was a challenge within itself, but yet again these little German products of ingenuity scooted right out to the road flawlessly. We were all but done leaving when we heard a loud scraping sound from John’s Kombi. Turns out his front bumper blade had selected a destination other than the road at that precise moment and dragged itself face first through the rough gravel for a few seconds. The look on John’s face was worse than the sound itself. What a cringe! You’d think the guy was scraping the paint off his pristine bumper with a bunch of dirty rocks or something…

Once we all got our bearings we began the real journey to the legendary trail. Of course, as before, the state wasn’t too keen on our wheels squishing their land and had nailed a little sign to a tree stating their true feelings about people like us. But what do people like us do in a situation with people like them? We play dumb, of course! That little sign wouldn’t of had a chance against our total combined two-hundred horse power anyways. As we finished pulling in Mike and his wife from Walton, NY pulled in to greet us. Glenn was the first to recognize the distinct purr of an air-cooled engine working it’s way up a hill. Hand shakes, laughter, and mental prep for the task ahead followed.

I was the first to drive the trail that day. My reason was knowing the general layout of the trail, everyone elses reason, I’m sure, was to use my bus as a mechanical sacrifice to keep their buses safe from the VW gods of wrath. After a bumpy seat belt-less ride with a few screaming passengers in the back, Glenn’s camper jumped in. Now, driving your own bus down a mud filled logging trail is about the finest thing one can do in Hale Eddy, but watching Glenn’s bus make the journey topped that! I was able to ride in the back with a Josh and catch the lovely run on film. Water flying in front of the windows, bumps hard enough to leave a cranial shaped dent in the ceiling, and a bus with two wheels in the air during the last puddle made that run the best of the day. We continued to crush good state forest grass and mud for a little while longer before heading out to the Penguin for some old-fashioned soft ice cream.

So far the day was going great. It hadn’t rained since we were out of bed and the sun was begin to poke through the clouds, everything was perfect until a local in his bus decided to mess it up… As we were leaving the trail my bus began to lose power. At first I though it was a lack of proper throttle on my part, so I gave it a little gas and made it up the small hill out. I was thinking to myself “Great, all fixed” then moments later thought “Shit. This problem’s getting worse!” Every time I let off the gas, the bus lost power and fought hard against my right foot to stall on me. Deciding something was horrible wrong with my engine I pulled over and turned the ignition off. Glenn and John were quick to pull up and ask me what was happening. I explained the issue to Glenn and we popped open the engine hatch to get a better look. Almost immediately Glenn grabbed one of my fuel lines, squeezed, and watch as a stream of cheap gasoline shot out at him. I’d expect a camel to spit, but my bus? Bad, bus! No spitting at Glenn. There we had it, rotten fuel lines in the middle of a state forest. Luck? I think not. Fortunately, John had spare fuel line with him and together with Glenn saved my skin that day. Glenn changed out the offending line and got me back on the road on the one promise that I replace the rest of the fuel lines when I got home. Glenn, you’ll be proud to know after I got home from the campout the bus was parked until I changed everything out. A few days later I was back on the road with a revived sense of security ‘bout my fuel system. After the detour I forced everyone to go through, we made it to our ice cream stop in style filling up the parking lot with three buses and Mike‘s dune buggy. I’m not sure who was most excited as we pulled in: The ice-cream makers looking at our VW’s, or the VW people looking at the ice-cream makers. Either way, we were all pumped!

For all the ice cream machine nerds, here goes… The Penguin features an amazing soft serve “Chus-A-Treat” ice cream machine. This machine was older, and much more stylish than the nicest of our cars. Made in the 1950’s that old machine had been through a lot, but somehow the 60 years of service had done nothing but enrich the flavors and make it a one of a kind experience for the ice-cream lover in all of us. Our group shuffled in to watch the machine do it’s magic and emerged an hour with our minds blown and stomachs full.

Our next stop was the Masonville General Store. That’s one remarkable store and very unique to the area. Organic foods and natural products take the front in an area that’s usually dominated by pre-packaged processed goods stacked up on cold metal shelves. Yuck. The drive to the store wasn’t that long from the Penguin, but turned out to be just as adventuresome as the drive down that logging trail earlier that morning. To continue the mood I set earlier for breaking down I just had to do something stupid on the way to the store. That stupid was found in the form of a set emergency brake for a 5 mile drive. At first I just thought “Hot damn, this bus got a lot heavier during lunch” as I struggled to make it up the first hill in third gear. As the drive progressed, my concern faded away along with what was left of my rear brake shoes. Being up wind from the plagued area I didn’t notice the aroma of burning bus, but everyone behind me did. Glenn began to flash his lights, honk his horn, and successfully got me to pull over in time to finally see the smoke pouring out from behind my hubcaps. We coated to a stop in front of a part time big rig trucker and stone workers house. After the smell went away and Glenn made some smart-assed remark about “Will being so excited his VW buddies were finally here…” ( It was true!) the stone worker commented on the mud caked to the lower parts of our cars. He couldn’t seem to fathom the possibility of taking one off road ‘round them hills in these parts. Some people get it, some don’t.

Note to self, it takes roughly 4.5 miles on a set E-Brake to burn out your rear brakes, c’est la vie. Thankfully that was the last idiotic move I made that day.

After the general store John’s need for Genesee Cream Ale got the better of him and sent us on a dizzying journey to three area stores in search of his beer. To quote my farmer friend Mark, “It’s a cheap beer that tastes like a good beer. A good beer!” I bet that’s true, they sure do drink a lot of it after a day in the fields. Yet again we merrily hoped into our buses and hit the road. Our first stop was the Quik-Way across the street from the general store. If it hasn’t been said before, Quik-Way clerks have a tendency to be weirdly aggressive toward Volkswagen drivers. Is it because we don’t see signs that aren’t placed in front of open doors of rooms filled with sellable products? Must be. Anyways, the clerk had some serious beef against John walking into the back room filled with, you guessed it, beer and made it her personal goal to chase him out. Quik-Way clerk, how can you possibly live with yourself the way you treat potential customers? I wasn’t there for the initial attack, but I did see him scurry out followed by a woman with a horse-like facial profile. Really astounding if you ask me. The way she lit her cigarette and stood in front of the door told us we weren’t going back in, so we took off for town. While the journey to get beer in a small town is one of the most interesting subjects ever known to man, do we really want to read about two more trips? No! We got’s better things to do, so I’ll sum it up. BigM, the local grocery store - completely fruitless. Gas station number two - we have our winner. With John happy we headed toward the backs roads to find our home for the weekend.
We didn’t hit any more trails that day, but BusBQ Bill proved his name right and treated us to a wonderful dinner. If there’s anything to conclude about eating in a state forest it’s that happiness is best found in the form of a dozen ribs being smoked in front of your eyes in the middle of the woods. We continued to eat like kings that night with venison, tasty burgers, and fried veggies. It’s a wonder the local black bears didn’t converge at our camp in the middle of the night to clean up our plates, grills, and coolers under the buses. That’s luck for you.