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Camp Woodward, PA
Story and Photos by Grant Hansen

Having the opportunity to ride at Camp Woodward is in itself enough to get us drooling. Then, on top of that, throw in the fact that we’d have a full line of great bikes at our disposal to ride -- on all the different types of terrain -that makes us start to sweat. And to top it off, give us the pleasure of riding with the world’s best riders and you may have to stick some smelling salts under our noses. But there was no way we were sleeping through this.

Camp Woodward should only be a three-hour drive from our NJ office. Hans and I hopped onto Route 80 and started driving toward, well, oblivion. It was my fault that we took the wrong exit, but no big deal, we called and got directions. It was too bad that Hans’ brain was on vacation because we made a left where we were supposed to make a right. Well, after about 30 minutes of driving, we came upon what looked to be a gas station: ABC Oil. There were two pumps, a sign that said “Cash Only,” and a little shack. Behind the shack was a house. We noticed a sign on the shack that read: “If I’m not here, ring the doorbell on the house.” Luckily, the old dude was behind the window equipped with nothing more than a makeshift counter and a cash box.

I said, simply, “How do I get to Woodward?”

“Oh boy. Well, you’re supposed to go that way,” as he pointed to a road, “but the bridge is out. So head down this road here and make a right at the church camp, pass the fish hatchery, and then go over the mountain.”

I kid you not. So we followed Grady’s directions - found the church camp and made the right, passed the fish hatchery, and then drove over the mountain. Were we closer? Yes, apparently. After finding another fuel pump we got more directions and made a right when we saw an Amish dude being pulled by four horses. One more left after that and our oasis awaited us in all its glory. Right on.


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