I strapped our gear on the bike and we wandered up to get breakfast and another cup of magic coffee for Pam. An hour later we were bundled up and rolling west through Woodstock heading for Pennsylvania. Woodstock is the town next to the town where the famous concert took place. The trendy artist community has taken over the town and it has a hippy tourist fair feel to it.
We hit a crappy little gas station just before town and fueled up. Nothing worked right in the place and the people at the counter were
so stoned they didn't care. The over priced Premium ended up being bad gas. The bike spit, sputtered and stalled out for much of the day. I kept stopping to buy some dry gas down the road but everywhere was sold out, probably by everyone else that station poisoned.
We headed into the mountains keeping the bike up on plane as much as possible so it wouldn't stall out. The plan was to burn up the bad gas as fast as we could and replace it. After a while the bike's engine computer adjusted the fuel mixture and timing to compensate and things got better.
The Mountains of the Catskills were chilly but beautiful. We were freezing, heated seats and all. We rolled into Arkville NY and asked a local for any bar info. He sent us right back up the hill where we came from to a place we passed a few miles earlier named Oakley's Place. When in the mountains anytime your coming into town your going down hill and likewise when leaving your going up hill because the old towns were always built on the river banks.
Oakley's Place was little cabin of a bar with a wood stove/fireplace blasting and an open table right in front of the flames. There was also a wood fired oven in the 
kitchen and another fireplace by the bar. We hogged the wood stove and ordered 2 draft Yuenglings and a couple shots of honey flavored Jack Daniel's. The shots were served right in the tiny shot glass and tasted like candy and the beers hit the spot. We were still full from breakfast or we would have got a wood fired pizza that smelled so good.
The fire did it's job and warmed us up. the place was friendly and I wanted to stay longer but we needed to go back out to the wet cold bike and get some miles behind us. I went up to pay our tab for two drafts and two shots and quickly stopped feeling friendly when it came to $22. I'm glad we didn't get a pizza, they were probably fifty bucks. Oakley's Place went from a "must hit" stop in the future to a don't stop in one ring of the cash register!
About sixty miles into our ride we were ready to give it up due to the cold. The mountains were pushing the temps down into the mid 30s and my ice warning icon was flashy away on the dashboard. Yes BMWs have ice warning systems.... We rolled around a corner and came upon the Downsville Motel. This is a magical place in the mountains that I have stayed at before. I wanted to stay there two weeks earlier on this trip on the way out but I passed it to early in the day and kept rolling.
I stopped so we could warm up and pee. I walked Pam around the motel grounds along the river and we enjoyed the place wishing we could stay but we both begrudgingly agreed that we were running out of time. It was Friday and we only had two more days left and a 
lot of ground to cover. Even though we were miserably cold we needed to put the last two hours of daylight to use and get another hundred miles behind us before we stopped.
We were both bummed out that we didn't have the time to stop early and enjoy the motel. I was talking about how peacefully it is there because there is no cell phone signal as we put our helmets on. Then right on cue like a bad B movie for the first time in a week my cell phone started to ring from inside my tank bag...
It was a coworker asking if I was working Monday. They were laying off a few guys for the day and high seniority was being offer it off so the bottom guys could work. The call dropped before he got an answer with a lost signal. The gears in my frozen little head started turning. I walked around like a prospector searching for water with a divining rod until I got enough of a phone signal to half ass call Detroit and talk to the boss.
I found a spot where if I faced north and stood on one leg and held up my left arm I could almost get a bar of signal. Turns out she had been calling me all day but I had no signal in the mountains. I eagerly volunteered to take Monday off thus giving us an extra day on the road to get home.
I excitedly walked into the fishing supply store/motel office across the road and slapped down seventy dollars for the last room left. Road karma was on our side! We unloaded the bike and warmed up in the room. Pam took 
off on a hike disappearing down the river bank clicking away with her camera. I lounged out watching the two Bald Eagles tend to their nest in a tree across the lawn. We were giddy that the road trip gods had allowed us to quit early and stay there.
Once we warmed up and settled in we rode just up the hill to town. Downsville NY breaks the town on the river rule. I'm sure that originally there was a mill on the river that is long gone or I just didn't see it and the town sprawled up the hill as it grew. We had the guy in the fishing store tell us we really need to eat at the Old Schoolhouse Inn. We checked it out and it looks really cool but we were looking for a less pretentious place.
the local diner was sounding better. We back tracked to a classic American diner I saw a few blocks back. A rare old prefab Kullman Diner from the 60s. It was originally in Pennsylvania but somehow landed here. The sign reading Downsville Diner drew us into the time machine of an american classic like bugs to a zapper. A leftover from the days when greasy prefab diners lined two lane highways in a simpler time all but forgotten.
Inside we found an elaborate Halloween theme and one customer. A follow traveler from nearby that just got back from a Montana road trip on his Harley. We swapped road tales while waiting for Flo to bring us our food.
The meal became an adventure all by itself and a hour later the classic old place spit us back out into the parking lot like a black and white episode of The Twilight Zone.
Just down the street is a great wine shop where I found a couple of bottles of Vouvray. I love the Chenin Blanc grape wines and it's a treat when I find it. We replenished our rolling wine stock and went on our way.
We were heading into the land of Christian extremism with a side order of Quakers the next day so we stopped for a bottle of Jack at the party store for the next couple night's stay. Due to the stone age Christian Sharia Biblical laws of Pennsylvania the dry counties and alcohol restrictions designed to appease Jesus are confusing at best so I just bring my own. Liquor packs easier than beer so I like to lose a bottle on the bike as a plan B when I travel. That plan has salvaged more than one night in a nameless crappy motel with nothing to do but stare at the walls.
The temps were quickly dipping below the freezing mark when we parked in front of our room o' paradise. We curled up for the evening with our wine chilling on the balcony. It was the stop that wasn't suppose to happen but by the luck of Zeus it all worked out perfect.
Chapter 5: Downsville NY to the Grand Canyon of Pennsylvania