The Ride
That's what I like about traveling, You can
take a ride, sit down someplace and talk
to someone interesting. You can see something
beautiful, read a good book and That qualifies
as a good day. You do that at home and everyone
thinks that you are a bum.
Kim Kazan/Before Sunrise
So what is this all about? I suppose if you really want to go back to the beginning, it all began on a bicycle ride that I took from Aurora, Colorado to Walsenburg, Colorado back in the mid '80's. I think I was about half way through that 150+ mile ride when I began to think about a cross country ride on two wheels. The dream began to take shape. The TRIP, as I came to think of it, lodged itself firmly in my mind. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride and by the time that I got back home about all I could do was think about riding cross country on the bike. Over the next several weeks and months, I made my plans; I ordered special laminated maps made just for bicyclists from Bike Centennial, panniers lights and camping gear for the TRIP. I was ready. But then, I never went. Responsibilities, Jobs, Wife, Life all got in the way. The TRIP never happened but the dream never completely died. The maps are still in a cabinet drawer. I take them out to look at the route I had drawn on them. I got older and the wife and I eventually moved from Colorado Back to my home state of Florida where the bicycles that I had enjoyed for so many years were finally sold.
A few years after the bicycles had been sold, when gasoline was over $4/galllon and I needed a cheaper form of transportation. I used it as an excuse to buy a scooter. After taking The Motorcycle Safety Course and riding the scoot around town, I quickly realized what blast it was to ride and soon I was looking for a "real" bike. I went through a couple of them over the next few years before finally settling on the Yamaha. A big bike made for the highway and the long haul. With the big Yamaha touring motorcycle I realized that although the bicycles were gone, the Dream was still there and the TRIP could easily be done with the motorcycle. Easier, in fact, I could see more of the country on the two wheels of a motorcycle than I ever could on a bicycle.
The Trip was back on!
Where to go? I was still working for Citigroup and while I did have a good vacation package, retirement was still a ways off and time was limited for a cross country trip, even on a motorcycle. So I made a few short rides while I figured out to do for the TRIP: I rode a few hundred miles up into Georgia a few times, all the way to South Carolina and back in one day, some 400+ miles and down to South Florida to visit family several times. I was getting used to the bike.. I rode over to the panhandle of Florida one weekend, spending the night at a nice campground near Apalachicola. This was where I realized that the bike is set up ideally for camping. So I started buying some camping gear. A new tent, lightweight sleeping bag, stove and related camping items.
Last Fall, almost a year ago now, I was on the internet, reading about some of the bike rallies around the country. One in particular caught my attention, The Americade Motorcycle Bike Touring Rally which is held every June in Lake George, New York. Excited, I checked out Google Maps, A distance of 1320 miles from Jacksonville, FL to Lake George, NY.
AH HA! A destination for the TRIP. I could attend the very cool bike rally, head on over to Syracuse, visit with my brother for a day or so before riding back home. I sent off my registration for the bike rally and started waiting for the following June......and waiting.
It seemed as if June would never arrive. One should never make plans for a TRIP that far in advance. It gives you too much time to think about it and there are only so many things to do to prepare for it. After a while I began to wonder if my anticipation of the TRIP was going to be greater that the TRIP itself.
But finally winter passed by. I worked on the bike some and made sure it was ready. Spring time came around and I was ready. And finally June 1st came around. Without any fanfare, I threw a leg over the bike which had long been packed and ready to go, kissed the wife goodbye and rolled out of the driveway, heading north towards upstate New York.
It felt good to finally be on the road.
Soon I was riding onto the ramp for I-95 and the first of several interstate highways that would take me north. There are some folks who just hate riding on the interstate highways, staying to back roads all the time. I tend to disagree with them. I love the highway. Rather I should say, my bike loves the highway. The Yamah Royal Star was just plain made for the long ride. The 4 cylinder 1300 cc engine provides an easy, smooth, vibration free ride. A large windscreen keeps the wind and bugs out of my face. Highway pegs provide a resting place for my feet. There would be plenty of time for back roads when I reach the mountains
With my boots on the pegs, the cruise control set at 73 mph. I was soon riding north into Georgia, happily watching the scenery. Which, along the east coast of Georgia, is mostly just pine trees and flat marsh land. Past the medium sized town of Brunswick and the smaller coastal towns, I was soon riding into Savannah where I stopped for Gas and a bite to eat. Checking out the thermometer at the gas station the temperature was into the 90's. It was getting warmer the farther north I rode.
Across the Savannah River, riding into South Carolina, you immediately notice one thing.......the quality of the road. The state must not have much of a budget for road maintenance in South Carolina. The portion of I-95 that I rode through in the state was the most poorly maintained interstate highway of the entire trip. Fortunately, I did not have long to ride on this part of highway. Soon I was passing Waynesboro SC, and a few miles further I picked up I-26 heading northwest towards Columbia, SC.
Now riding northwest another 110 miles to Columbia, mostly uneventful but for the fact that the flat land off the south was gradually changing into some hills. As I rode down in to the valley that the City of Columbia sits in, the temperature kept climbing. The thermometer at a bank in Columbia read 93 degrees
I rode on over to Pete's house to spend the night with him and his lovely wife Geri. Pete and I go back a long, long ways, some 50 years to our teenage days. The thing is, I have only seen him twice since then and both of those times were within the last year. After our days at Melbourne High School, Pete headed west for California the Navy and Vietnam. We just hooked up again last year and renewed our friendship. Pete and his wife made me instantly feel at home in their nice house. The swimming pool in the backyard was especially enjoyed after the long hot ride. We stayed up talking about the good old days but soon enough I was off to bed. I needed to get a pretty early start. Pete said he would ride his Harley with me almost up to Charlotte, NC before having to turn back, about 100 miles, nice.
Geri was off to work early so I did not get to say goodbye to her in the morning. Pete and I rode on over to the local IHOP for a good breakfast then back on the highway heading north on I-77. It was nice ride and the only time I would be riding with someone else until I reached New York. Riding early in the morning was nice, cool but already you could tell it was going to be another hot day. We pulled off at an exit at near Rock Hill, SC. just before I-77 gets into North Carolina and Charlotte. We had a cool drink, I said goodbye to Pete and was off on my own again.
During the ride I tried to avoid large cities. They are just no fun at all. All you want to do is get through them and Charlotte, SC certainly was no exception. I could take the bypass around the city or continue on I-77 straight through downtown with all of its overpasses, underpasses, cloverleaf exits and the such.. I just wanted to get it done with so opted to go straight on through. It was not as bad as I thought it might be, I just followed the signs for I-77 North, watching all of the traffic around me and soon enough I was climbing into the hills beyond the city. Another 150 or so miles and I was crossing the border into Virginia.
It seemed as soon as I got into Virginia that things really began to change. The terrain got hillier, the air cooler, and traffic seemed to thin out, things started to smell different. Smells are one thing you really notice on a motorcycle. There is no air-conditioned comfort to sit your ass in. Your olfactory system can get overloaded. Smells are so vivid on a Motorcycle, tree, flower, swamp, river smells. Sometimes smells can bring back memories so strong that it seems as if I’m riding on a time machine.
Soon I-77 was going all up.....into the mountains of Virginia. This was my first experience in the mountains on a motorcycle. The air was getting cooler, I was actually glad for the touring jacket that I was wearing. I passed the turn off for the Blue Ridge Parkway. I think I let out a little yell. I know I had a huge grin on my face. Something very special was happening. I was in a part of the country I had never been before, What could be better? On my motorcycle with many miles to go, the weather was fine with just a few wispy clouds in an otherwise blue sky. A guy and his gal came up behind me and passed me on their bike and I realized my speed had dropped to less than 65 mph.......what was the hurry?
Not far into Virginia I-77 intersects with I-81 which I would ride for several hundred miles, all the way to Scranton, PA. I had no idea Virginia was such a beautiful state to ride through. If I have the time, on the way back I would like to ride some of its back roads. Even though the speed limit in Virginia is 70mph, I had the cruise control set at 65. I was enjoying this ride along the Smoky Mountains, the farms, houses and cabins tucked into the hills along the highway. It was so much different than the flat straight roads of Florida.
I-81 passes to the west of Roanoke, Va. Roanoke is a good sized town, so the traffic picked up nearby but quickly thinned back out a few miles north of the city. Most of the traffic on I-81 seemed to consist of semi trucks. Other than the fact that they created a lot of wind turbulence, I did not mind riding with them. During the whole trip I never had a problem with a big rig driver. I certainly could not say that about some of the cars. For some reason a few of them would get upset when I passed them and try to speed up to keep me from doing so. A couple pulled over into my lane without even looking. I was glad to get into Lexington, Va. as it had been a long day on the road. I had a bite to eat and spent the night at a small motel whose rates were not much more than the local KOA....easier than putting the tent up.
The next morning I was up pretty early and after a good breakfast I was back on the road again. This time though, off of the Interstate and on the back road headed for Waynesboro, VA and the southern entrance to the Skyline Drive. The Skyline Drive Is the only road through the Shenandoah National Park. It begins (or ends) at where the Blue Ridge Skyway ends (or begins) and runs 105 miles along the ridge of the smoky mountains. I was entering the park at the south end off of RT64 and not without a little trepidation. This would be my first real test of riding a motorcycle on a small two lane twisty mountain road.
I pulled up to the ranger station at the entrance to the park and the cute ranger gal at the kiosk asked if I had a pass. Not paying much attention to the bike as I should have, when I pulled out my wallet and the Senior National Parks Pass, the bike tipped over and was leaning up against the kiosk with my leg trapped between the bike and the cabin. The ranger, bless her heart, immediately saw my predicament and came out and around to the bike trying to pull it back upright. But at 800+ lbs, not any easy task. I had my leg trapped and could not get any leverage to help push it back up. We finally realized that she was not going to be of much help. But then, the two guys in the truck behind also realized what had happened and came along to help. Soon I was back upright on the road. An embarrassing way to enter the park!
Soon I was rolling up the road and I do mean up as the drive increased in elevation. The first of several hairpin turns were handled with relative ease and the 35mph speed limit sure surely kept me from getting into too much trouble in the turns. There were many scenic turn offs along the Drive, inviting one to stop and enjoy the incredible views of the mountains and take a few pictures. There was not much car traffic but quite a few bike riders out enjoying the ride. I saw several white-tailed deer beside the road while in the park. They are always nice to see but it is always a bit disconcerting while on a motorcycle as you have no idea whether they are going to stay where they are, go back into the woods or jump out in front of you. Towards the end of the Skyline Drive you come upon the Mary’s Rock Tunnel, it was completed in 1932 and completed the Skyline Drive which ends/begins just north of the tunnel.
It took me nearly 4 hours to ride the 105 miles of the Skyline Drive. What with its 35mph speed limit, its many scenic turnoffs and a couple of stops at the visitors centers. By the time I finished, I felt that I was beginning to get a handle on riding the twisty roads that were so different to my usual riding. Especially, while they were twisty going up and down. I thought about stopping for something to eat in the town of Front Royal at the end of the Skyline Drive but it seemed so busy with lots and lots of city traffic. All of the restaurants along the road seemed to be of the fast food variety so I rode on through on RT 340 heading, eventually, back over to I-81. Being this close to Washington DC, Baltimore, MD, and Winchester, VA, I ran into my first really serious traffic situation. Not that it wasn't moving along, it’s just that there was so much of it. It was a pretty tense ride all the way through the rest of Virginia, and across Maryland, through Hagerstown and into Pennsylvania. Finally I had to stop for gas at Shippensburg, Pa. There was also a relatively inexpensive motel right off of the exit so I decided to spend the night there.
There did not seem to be much else close by the motel…... a gas station with a convenience store attached and that was about it. Tired after a long day on the bike, after I checked into the motel, I walked over to the convince store, bought a few items and went back to check on the bike. Everything seemed to be well until I checked the tire pressure on the rear tire. It was only reading 28lbs when it should have been at 40....uh oh!. Checking the tire, I could not find anything but the tire is hard to get to with the fender and saddlebags. I added some air, brought the pressure in the tire back up to 40 psi, went into the motel room and had a meal of prepared sandwich, chips and a bottle of Gatorade while I watched some mindless stuff on the motel TV.....and worried about the tire.
Waking early, I took a quick shower, put on my shorts and a t-shirt and went outside to check on the bike. Sure enough, the air pressure in the rear tire was back down to 24psi just over night. Not good at all. Again I got out my air pump and put the air pressure back up to 40lbs. After changing into my riding gear and packing up I was on the highway again heading north, looking for Harley Davidson sign as they seem to have shops near exits on the interstate highways. I took the exit to Lebanon to get some gas and pulled into a Shell station. While filling up the tank another bike rider rode in to a pump nearby. I walked on over, explained my dilemma and he told me about a bike shop down the road just a few miles outside of the town of Lebanon, Pa.
As I rode into the parking lot of Lebanon Cycles, I was glad to have found a motorcycle dealer but dismayed at all of the activity. It was a Saturday morning and the place was hopping! Bikes and people were everywhere. I figured I would probably be lucky to get mine looked at on Monday. Parking the bike as close as I could get to the service area I walked in and talked to Dale, the service manager. What a pleasant surprise! After explaining the slow air leak on the tire and telling him about my ride from Florida to New York, He took care of things. Offering me a cup of coffee and a place to sit, Dale had another bike taken off of its stand and replaced with mine, took a mechanic off of another job to work on my bike. “We need to get this guy back on the road” he said to another of his people. It turned out that somewhere along the way I had picked up a pretty good sized nail right in the center of the rear tire. With another 2000 miles to go on the TRIP, I did not want to do it on a patch so had them replace the rear tire. While they were putting on the new tire I walked around the shop and talked with some of the folks there. Nice place, nice people. I lucked out! The tire could have gone flat in the middle of the mountains and I’d be sitting beside the road. As it was, within hours, I was back on the highway riding into a drizzling, misty rain that continued most all of the way to Scranton, Pa where my GPS finally decided to send me in the wrong direction.
Now the GPS is a great tool but it is only as good as the maps that have been downloaded into it. Reaching into Scranton, Pa., There seemed to be all kinds of construction going on along the interstate, rerouting the original interstate, so the GPS just got very confused. This also just happened to be where I wanted to finally get off and start taking the back roads towards New York. The GPS kept routing me thru the city, someplace I did not want to go. I needed to get on US6 which heads north east out of Scranton. Frustrated, I was not lost, I knew where I was and where I wanted to go, I just did not know how the heck to get there! So, after making several poor attempts at finding my way off of I-81 and onto US6, I finally stopped and asked for directions. A nice gal at the gas station told me where I was and what to do, “two exits north on I-81, stay right, merge onto US6” simple. Soon I was on my way to Carbondale. Still on a 4 lane highway but all of that was about to change. I spent the night at the Knights Inn in Carbondale in North Eastern Pennsylvania. The motel room smelled of stale smoke but I was too tired after the crazy day on the bike to complain about it. I got a light dinner at a small restaurant nearby and back in the room, read a bit before falling asleep.
The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where
A man can lose himself. William least Heat Moon
I’m in Honesdale, Pa. sitting at a gas station, looking a paper map of Pennsylvania and trying to figure the best way to get into New York State when a guy and his lady ride up behind me on their big Harley. We chatted for a bit and it turns out that this fellow was the manager for the local Harley Dealership. When I explained where I was going and trying to get into New York. He says, “There is only one way to go, take RT191 right straight north out of Honesdale. It is one of the prettiest rides in the state and will take you right where you need to be.” I topped off the gas tank, found 191and he was right about one thing; it was an absolutely gorgeous ride through the hills of northern PA. There was very little traffic. I had no idea that Pennsylvania had such nice countryside. Nearing New York, the Delaware River separates the two states, with 191 running along the Pennsylvania side. The river was wide and full from recent rains. Eventually the highway crosses the Delaware into New York and the town of Hancock where I got to watch a parade.
There was some sort of local thing going on: Right through the center of town…… A couple of high school bands, Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops, People riding horses and some antique automobiles. Everyone was out having a good time. I was stopped by the local police at the junction of Main Street and 1st Ave. so sat there on my bike as the parade of people passed by. It seemed that the whole town had turned out for whatever it was that was happening.
After the Parade I rode on alongside the Delaware River to the town of Walton where I stopped at a diner for a late breakfast/early lunch and had some great biscuits and gravy. From Walton I rode on over to thru Sidney Center, across I-80 and picked up RT7 to Unadilla. I passed by the house where my grandparents used live, except the house is no longer there. Washed away by one of the floods from the Susquehanna River that runs behind the property. I rode into Oneonta. You can see Hartwick College up on the hill above the city. My dad went to college there and, for a while, we all lived in a small trailer below the college. Oneonta now is a big city but Main Street remains pretty much the same.
The GPS finally led me north out of the city on State Rd 23 to the small town of Laurens. Actually I never went into Laurens. But off of 23 on a back road off of a back road I found the “camp” built by my dad and Grandfather way back when. Thing is though, the “camp” is no longer there. It was a small cabin along a creek on a couple of acres of land. Our Family, Aunt, Uncle, Cousins, Grandparents spent quite a few summers there, The whole Clan. I think it was really the only time that we were all together…..over half a century ago. Anyway, the cabin at the “camp” has long since been replaced with a much nicer house built by my cousin Kathy and her Husband Joe. Kathy had no idea I was coming by to visit so wondered who was rumbling up to their house out in the woods, on a motorcycle. Of course, she did not recognize me as we had not seen each other since she showed up at my doorstep one winter back when she was a good deal younger. So here I was doing the same thing to her some 30+ years later. After she figured out who the biker at her door was, I met her husband and she called her twin sister Ruth who came over to the house. We all had a good visit for a few hours before I got back on the bike and headed off to Cooperstown, NY.
“I don’t take checks or credit cards, cash only”, the proprietor of the Cooperstown Motel told me. “Don’t believe in ‘em, they only cause grief and expense that I don’t need”. Well I had never heard of a motel that did not take a credit card for payment before. Seems like most everyone takes credit cards these days, which is why I carry very little cash with me on my rides. “I can keep my rates lower, just because I don’t take plastic” He told me. The room rate sure was good and it looked like a nice place. Located on the outskirts of Cooperstown. So I handed over almost all of the cash in my wallet for two nights at the Cooperstown Motel, l unpacked my bike and took all of my stuff into a corner room on the first floor. It was a pretty nice room, well used as most of them are in your typical mom and pop motels. It was clean and smelled faintly of cigar smoke and disinfectant. No air conditioning though and probably not needed for 90% of the year in foothills of the Adirondack Mountains. I just happened to be riding through during the other 10%. I opened all the windows and with a breeze coming through it was at least tolerable and most likely would cool down pretty dramatically as soon as the sun went down.
Getting settled into the motel, I planned on staying for a couple of days. I could use a bit of downtime after 1100 miles on the road. There was still a bit of light left and as I had not had anything to eat since Walton, I changed clothes, and rode into Cooperstown proper to find a place to eat. I parked the bike down on the main street and enjoyed walking along the sidewalk there. Cooperstown has one claim to fame and it is a pretty big one….. Cooperstown is home to the Baseball Hall of Fame. And everything about the town revolves around it. There is a baseball field right downtown; the streets have baseball related names, the stores and restaurants the same: “Babes Brew”, “The Bat barn”, “Mickeys”, etc. I grabbed a quick bite to eat at a small restaurant, walked on back to the bike and rode back to the motel where I filled out a few post cards, called the wife and read a bit about the adventures of Travis Mcgee from an old John D Macdonald paperback that I had picked up at used bookstore downtown.
When I got up early the next morning there was a fellow working on his Harley parked right next to my bike. We introduced ourselves and I asked him if he would like to go to breakfast with me. We rode on over to a small restaurant where we had a fine meal and some great conversation. It turns out Joe worked security at the big hotel down at Lake Otsego, he stays at the motel during the week before riding home to his family on weekends. Getting back to the motel, Joe went off to bed as he works the graveyard shift at the hotel. I gathered some dirty clothes together stuck them into a pillowcase and into the pannier on the bike and went off to find a Laundromat. A few blocks off of the downtown area there was a sign for the laundry. I parked the bike in the public parking lot near the baseball field and went off to wash some clothes. At the laundry I asked the owner if she had a room where I could change my clothes and, she directed me to a small washroom in the back. I got out of my dirty riding clothes and donned a pair of shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt, now I looked every part the tourist that I was. I went back out handed her my riding clothes along with another sack of dirty clothes and after locking my boots and helmet back in the bike, headed out to see the town while my clothes got cleaned. First stop, the Baseball Hall of fame which was just around the corner. It was somewhat of a disappointment, I guess I expected a little more, I’m not really a huge baseball fan so I’m not sure what I was looking for, sure there was lots of baseball history there, lots of famous bats and jerseys on display. But I had more fun just walking around the town and watching the people. Lots of families all dressed up in baseball uniforms of their favorite teams, small children carrying bats over their shoulders in absolute awe of just being there.
The temperature was climbing and I was glad to be in shorts and a t-shirt while walking around. I paid for a snow cone and walked over to the beach. Cooperstown sits at the very southern end of Lake Otsego.it is a long narrow lake some 9 miles long and about a mile wide at it widest., surrounded by low lying hills. Lake Otsego is the source of the Susquehanna River which runs all the way to the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. Anyway, I found this nice small beach down by the lake side. Took off my sandals and walked in the cool water. I sat by the water’s edge thinking about the ride so far. Seemed funny how it had really only been a few days since leaving Florida yet it also seemed like a long time with all the miles and all the things that I had done so far. Tomorrow I would be heading into Adirondack Mountains, Lake George and my semi destination, The Americade Motorcycle Rally. I wandered back over to the laundry picked up my stuff which had all been cleaned, neatly folded and wrapped into a nice brown paper package, which, of course, would not fit into the panniers on my bike. So I unpacked everything took my riding clothes back out and put them on and then repacked all the clean clothes back into the bike. Rode on back of to the motel and had a nice conversation with the motel owner about growing up here and taking a canoe trip down the Susquehanna River all the way to the Chesapeake Bay when he was just a teenager. I was packing up my gear when I heard another bike ride in. I went outside and met David. Well, I thought I had been on a long ride; David was traveling from Sacramento, CA. To Edison, NJ before heading south to New Orleans then back home. We chatted for a while about his bike and ride before heading off to our rooms. I finished getting all my stuff packed up so that all I would have to do was shower and dress, in the morning.
Americade
Touted to be the largest Touring Motorcycle Rally in the World and for all I know it very well may be. I left Cooperstown and had a nice ride into the Adirondack Mountains of New York. As I got closer to Lake George, the numbers of bikes on the Road increased mile by mile until I found myself virtually riding in a pack down Canada Street into Lake George and The Americade Motorcycle Rally. For a few days during June, Motorcyclists take over this small lake side town. Unlike other rallies that I have been to where the majority of the bikes seem to be chopped Harley’s, the bikes at Americade are mostly all of the touring variety. Never had I seen so many Honda Goldwing’s all in one place and all tricked out in so many different ways, towing trailers and from many different locations: license plates from all over the country.
After checking in and registering, I rode back on through Canada Street which is the main ride through Lake George, sort of like Main Street at Daytona or Sturgis. North of town I pulled into the Hearthstone point Campground and set up the tent in a nice spot amid some huge pine trees, a picnic table, fire ring and a place to park the bike made up my little area. The campground was practically empty, asking the ranger about that he just said “it is only Tuesday; wait till Thursday evening it will be a zoo”. After getting the campsite all set up I checked out the pain in the bottom of my foot. I had stepped on a piece of glass before starting the trip. I thought that I had pretty much cleaned it all out and it had not bothered me too much during the ride but seemed somewhat inflamed and being right on the bottom of the ball of the ball of my right foot , hurt every time I stepped on it, not good! I got my first aid kit out: some Neosporin and a large band aid. There really was not a whole lot else to do. Pulling my boot back on it seemed to feel better. It was not a big deal while riding the bike but at the rally I figured to be doing some serious walking during the next couple of days.
The day was getting on but there was still some sun over the trees so I got back on the bike and took it back into town. I rode down along Lake George, what a pretty place. The town of Lake George sits at the very south end of the lake. Looking north into the lake you see the Adirondack Mountains on the west side of the lake and the hills of Vermont on the east side. The lake is 32 miles long and varies from 1-3 miles wide; it drains into Lake Champlain via the La Chute River. The Vendors for the Rally were set up down by the lake. But as the sun was setting I did not have time to stop so went off looking for a place to eat. I really had not had anything to eat since breakfast at a diner outside of Cooperstown so I was pretty hungry. The thing is finding a sit down place to eat at a motorcycle rally can be nearly next to impossible. Sometimes luck is with you though. Riding back on Canada Street I found a place to back the bike in among hundreds of other motorcycles and getting off the bike I turned around looking at the door of a Seafood Restaurant. I don’t remember what the name of it was and I guess I was too tired to remember it. Anyway, I walked in and was immediately seated at a table with another group of bike riders. I ordered the Seafood Platter which was excellent and had a great meal and some fine conversation. Turns out some of the people at the table were from France. They try to come over every year. Flying into New Jersey, They rent bikes there and ride them to Lake George….truly giving an international feel to the rally. After a fine meal, I said goodbye to my new friends and proceeded back on to the campground. Which, by the time I arrived, was completely in the dark. I crawled into the tent, turned on the lantern hanging from the ceiling and reflected on the journey…some 1300 miles from Florida, a flat tire, mountains, highway miles, new friends, great weather. Who could ask for more….well, the flat tire………..
Wednesday morning I was up with the sun. During the night someone had moved into the camp site across the road from me. I never heard them come in. I boiled some water and made a cup of coffee and some instant cereal for a quick breakfast. The new people were rousing about the time I finished my coffee so I walked over and chatted with them for a while. They had driven in from Rochester NY, hauling their bikes in a trailer and seemed quite surprised that I had actually ridden my bike up from Florida. I have somewhat of a hard time with folks who don’t appreciate or understand the Long Ride so while they were unloading their shiny Harleys from the trailer I went back, cleaned things up, closed up the camp and took the short trip back into Lake George and Americade.
There are basically two places to park your bike at Americade, along Canada Street or at the designated parking area down by the lake. Well, I had already done the Canada street thing so rode on down to the lake again and the large grassy/park area that had been set up for motorcycle parking. About the size of 3 football fields, it was already more than half full. I found a lone tree over in to the side of the field and parked there so that I would be able to find the bike again. Really, if you were not paying attention, you could spend hours trying to find your bike! I spent the rest of the day walking around Lake George and the Americade Rally. I visited the vendors down by the lake which were the same vendors that one sees at any of the other bike rallies, same people too. The lady that works at Ultimate Seats in Ormond Beach was at their tent and we had a nice chat. I took a Demo ride on the new BMW K1600GTL. A nice ride but with all of its high tech stuff I wondered what mechanics would be able to fix them a few years down the road. I visited Ft William Henry in the Center of Town and just had a generally nice day walking around even though the pain in the foot was beginning to become a bit of a bother. While I was having and ice cream cone down by the lake and talking to one of the locals he mentioned that I should take a ride up along the lake and over into Vermont. I had not even thought about doing that but from his description, it sure sounded like a nice ride. So rather than hurt the foot anymore I decided to go on back to the camp, get into bed and up early for a ride north in the morning. Back at the camp I made up another exciting meal of canned chili and had my first alcohol on the trip, I stopped at a liquor store on the way back to the campground and talked the owner into selling me three bottles of Guinness. The canned chili was OK, the Guinness afterwards was great. I was in the tent early and not even in the sleeping bag as the weather was unusually warm with temps in the mid to high 80’s…of course I woke up a few hours later freezing as the temperature plummeted.
“A Journey is like a marriage, the certain way to be wrong is to think that you control it.”
John Steinbeck
Vermont
When I left the next morning, the Harley folks across the way were still sleeping in. There was a bit of fog hanging in the trees and the sky seemed cloudy or maybe it was just misty. Riding north on 9N, the road goes right along the edge of Lake George. Weird thing, all of the roads leading out of Lake George are #9, you have 9N, 9 and 9L. I rode the 32 miles to the end of Lake George where I pulled over at an incredibly gorgeous, scenic turn out and overlook at the north end of the lake. There was another rider already stopped there, we talked a bit and took pictures of each other. I told him I was thinking of riding over into Vermont and he said I should take the ferry at Ticonderoga, only a few miles up the road. Sure enough at Ticonderoga there was a sign for the ferry. I took the turn off from 9N to go to the ferry, three miles later I arrived to find that it was closed! You would think that someone could have put up a sign at the turn off from 9N. Oh well, I rode on back and stopped to get gas a bit north of the turn off and found out that the Ticonderoga Ferry had actually been closed for quite some time and that there was a new one at Crown Point which was another 10 miles north on 9N. Arriving in Crown Point, I stopped and had a fine breakfast at a quaint little restaurant. Besides the owner/cook, I was the only one there so we had a good conversation. Turns out that there used to be a bridge across the river but it got old so the NY Department of Transportation blew it up and was in the process of building another. However, seeing as the Ticonderoga ferry closed down there was really no way to get into Vermont unless you went all the way north of Lake Champlain. So they put a ferry in at Crown Point till the new bridge gets built. When I arrived at the ferry there were several other bike riders waiting for it. We all got on the ferry, crossed the river and rode off into Vermont.
The countryside in Vermont, even though it was just across the River from New York was completely different. With open land, farms, pastures and rolling hills, cattle along the fence. I stopped at a general store to pick up a couple of post cards and nice surprise! Found that the gasoline prices had dropped from well over $4/gal in NY to $3.20/gal in Vermont. I made a mental note to fill up before going back across the border. In Vermont, I rode through the rolling hills, looking for one of its famous covered bridges but never did find one. Eventually I got onto 22A and headed back south: then RT4 and 149 back over towards Lake George. I stopped in Lake George looking for a place to eat but this time, not quite so lucky, more people arriving for the rally so fewer places to eat. So I rode on through Lake George and about five miles out of town to Warresburg, where I had a delightful meal. Riding back towards the campsite, I passed by the Green Acres Motel. It was not flashing a NO VACANCY sign and looked like a nice place so I decided to ride back and check it out. I found a nice room there at a very reasonable price. I rode on over to the campsite, packed things up and moved back to the motel. After the long day on the bike the hot shower and soft bed felt a lot nicer than sleeping on the ground over at the campsite would have been.
The next morning I was on the road early through Warrensburg where I stopped for a light breakfast then a misty morning into the Adirondack National Park. The Adirondack Park is the largest National park in the continental USA, some 6 million acres. The southern area, where I was riding, is not nearly as mountainous as the northern area but there are many good sized “hills” and lots of scenic lakes. I rode through the small towns of Indian Lake, Blue Mountain, Raquette Lake, Eagle Bay and Otter Lake while crossing through the park. The weather was fine: partly cloudy with an occasional sprinkle to keep things cool. Coming down through the hills and out of the west side of the park, just past the town of Woodgate, traffic backed up, dusty construction vehicles appeared alongside the road. Creeping around a bend there was a flagman directing traffic and large temporary sign off to the side of the road “Gravel Road next 21/2 Miles”. The front of the bike dropped off of the pavement into deep gravel. With the slow traffic it was a real chore just keeping the bike upright for the next couple of miles. The joys of Motorcycle Travel! It was with no little relief that I made it back onto solid pavement without any mishap. I rode the remaining 30 miles or so into Rome and stopped at a McD’s to treat myself to an iced coffee. Out of Rome I took RT49 over to Sylvan Beach near Lake Oneida. Following the edge of the lake and the back roads into Syracuse NY, I rolled into my brothers Driveway a little before 5 p.m.
Syracuse
“Those that Can, Do. Those that Can’t Criticize”
Paul Hughes
It was good to visit and spend some time with my brother and I need some down time. The sore on the bottom of my foot was beginning to become more than just an annoyance, something that I could not keep ignoring. But I really did not know what to do about it.
On Saturday morning we went over to the park to watch Paul’s granddaughter, Natalie, play in a softball game. While there I met Natalie’s mom, Dawn and husband Josh. Dawn, being a nurse took a look at the, by now, quite inflamed sore and, quite concerned, she told me that I needed to get it looked at ASAP. We spent the rest of the day over at their house, had a fine visit and barbeque out on the back deck. Back to Pauls’ that evening and we were up early on Sunday morning for a trip to the Syracuse Urgent Care Clinic where I spent the next four hours, mostly waiting for someone to see me. Finally getting all the paperwork filled out, I got to see the doctor on call at the time. He did not seem to be too happy about having to spend his Sunday morning at the hospital. He asked if I had Diabetes, when I said no, he says “well we’re going to take some tests just to make sure and if you do we will be admitting you into the hospital.” HUH! I thought. This is not what I wanted to hear. So the nurse takes some blood and I get to sit in the examining room for another hour or so waiting form the results. Finally, the Doctor comes back in, says, “All your blood levels are OK, no diabetes. But you have a really bad infection that needs to be taken care of.” We talked for a bit and when he found out that I was on my bike trip he mellowed considerably as he was also a biker and had recently taken a trip from North Carolina back to NY after buying a bike there. So, after a penicillin shot and a prescription for some antibiotic drugs, a set of crutches and instructions to stay off of the foot for as long as possible before heading back to Florida, I called Paul and he picked me up. We went out and had a nice lunch and enjoyed what was left of the weekend. Talking with my Paul, reading some and just taking it easy, letting my little brother take care of me.
On Monday I found a Podiatrist who could see me on that afternoon so we drove over and the Podiatrist examined the sore in my foot, dug around a bit and found out what was creating the whole problem. He pulled out a small piece of glass that was lodged deep into the ball of me foot. It almost immediately began to feel better after he took the glass out. At least it did not hurt so much when I stepped on it. Back to Pauls’ house I said goodbye to him as he had to be to work in Utica on Tuesday morning so he left Syracuse Monday night. I packed up most all of my stuff, set it out by the front door so that I could get an early start and head on back south.
Some People Ride In the Rain….Others Just get Wet
I woke to a cloudy, cool, almost cold day and rain. I don’t much mind riding in the rain. It is part of Motorcycle touring….motorcycle riding. Ride a bike long enough and you will ride in the rain. But I really hate starting a ride in the rain. Not having much choice though, I put on all of my rain gear, loaded up the bike and rolled out onto the highway. I-81 runs almost from Pauls’ front door to all the way to South Carolina. So leaving Pauls’ I punched in “Home” on the GPS and soon I was cruising down the highway towards Birmingham….in the rain, which did not let up until I passed over the Pennsylvania state line where the weather cleared up, the sun came out and turned into a fine day for a bike ride. This was my longest day on the bike for the whole trip. Through Pennsylvania, Maryland, a small piece of West Virginia and into Virginia with the sun setting I stopped for the night at Woodstock, 427 miles from Syracuse. From Woodstock to Waynesboro, VA was a little over 75 miles and I was off of the interstate. At Waynesboro, You can head north on the Skyline Drive which I had done about two weeks ago, if you turn south, you are on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Blue Ridge is about the same as the Skyline Drive, running along the top of the Smoky Mountains. There was hardly any traffic at all. It seemed that I had the road all to myself. I had no problem stopping in the middle of the road to take a picture. Unlike the Skyline Drive, there are quite a few roads that cross the Parkway so after about 30 miles on the BRP, I decided it was time for a change and got off of the Parkway onto RT60 and what a treat it was! Downhill, in the mountains for the next 20-30 miles it followed a stream so it was quite twisty, the turns were banked high and you could almost ride through them without touching the brakes, just lean the bike a little into the turn then lean the other way into the next turn. It was like that most all of the way out of the mountains to the small town with the unlikely name of Forks of Buffalo which really was hardly more than a few houses, a gas station and a convenience store where I stopped to top off the gas and get a bike to eat. Coming out of the convenience store there were a few guys standing around the bike. One of them said “Did you ride that all the way from Florida?” “Well, actually, I said, I rode it to New York and I’m on the way back to Florida now.” “Damn, that’s one long ride” he said. As if somehow there was something unusual about it. I just cannot imagine any other way in which I would rather ride. I picked up RT29 at Amherst and rode it down through the pretty country in central Virginia, lots of Farmland, Horse and Cattle country. Just south of Danville RT29 crosses into North Carolina where I stopped for gas and a late lunch at Mayville before pushing on through to the good sized town with the traffic to go along with it at Greensboro. South of Greensboro is US220 a four lane road with a wide median that should be an interstate highway but isn’t, maybe because it is not long enough. Whatever, it was a delightful ride through the North Carolina countryside all the way to Rockingham where I picked up US1 heading into South Carolina. Again, another long day on the bike. When I started out on the trip a 200 mile day seemed about all that I could do. It’s not that I wanted to get anywhere in a hurry but it was nice to know that I could do the miles if I needed or wanted to. Riding past the towns of Society Hill and Darlington, I finally arrived at the familiar I-95. Shortly after getting on the Interstate I saw a sign for the Ramada Inn at the next exit. As it was to be my last night on the road, I figured why not spend it at a nice place. I pulled into the Ramada Inn at Florence and was pleasantly surprised at the nice clean room and decent rate. There was also a restaurant attached serving a buffet, so I had a nice meal before going back to the room, Before going in I checked the odometer on the bike…..another long ride, 394 miles.
After a cup of coffee, I was on the bike, back on I-95 and heading on home. According to my GPS it is another 291 miles with an arrival time of 12:36pm. Of course that assumes no stops so figuring a couple of gas stops, a stop or 2 for a bite to eat, maybe a stop by a McD’s for an iced coffee…somewhere between 2-3 pm. I’m in no real rush.
Some thoughts on THE RIDE.
It has been Outstanding, Superlative, Spectacular, Magnificent, Exceptional, and Momentous. More than I expected but then also still somewhat less. I did not complete the whole trip as originally planned, mostly due to the infection in my foot but also due to a lack of time. The original plan to ride back through Kentucky Tennessee, and ride the Natchez Trace was just a bit too ambitious. But that is OK as well. These places will still be there and rides to look forward to.
The bike has run great. I cannot say enough good things about it. There was never a moment’s hesitation during the ride. The cruise control made life on the highway so much easier. The only problem was the flat tire but that had nothing to do with the bike and turned into a bit of an adventure itself. I averaged a little less than 40 miles to the gallon of gas for the trip, not bad especially considering that more than half of the miles were on the Interstate at highway speeds.
It sure is nice to have family to take care of you when you need it.
Thanks Paul!
Camping: I did not do enough of it. On future rides I need to do more, motels are just way out of line. 12 dollars at a nice campsite vs 80-100 dollars at a motel is really a no brainer. I need to get a better sleeping pad or air mattress though. The Thermarest pad that I used may have been fine during my backpacking days, but as I get older I need a bit more comfort.
We live in such a beautiful country: From the Atlantic Ocean in Florida, the Bayous of Georgia to the Mountains of Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York, The Farm country of Vermont and the roads that connect them all. I have driven a car across the country several times. However, after this trip, I am convinced that the best way to see the USA, experience its sights, sounds, smells, delights and its people is on a motorcycle.
“The World is a book and those that do not travel read only a page”
Helen Keller
Riding South on I-95, cruising along a 70 mph, finally getting on the good highway surface after the poor ones in South Carolina. There is not a whole lot of traffic on a Thursday morning. The usual trucking but the tourists heading into Florida seem to be off of the road this morning. Maybe they are just getting a late start or maybe it is the crappy economy. Anyway, it’s nice to have the open highway for the last leg of the ride home. I stopped at the Florida visitor’s center just across the border. I had a complimentary cup of Florida Orange Juice and the girl at the counter asked me where I was coming from.
“Not coming from, I said, Just going home.” It’s funny how the smells change and the feel in the air changes as soon as you get into Florida the air feels heavier and there is almost a smell of the ocean in the air. Soon I was crossing the St Johns River and a few turns later I backed the bike into the Driveway. 3150 miles. It always feels good to get home but I’m already thinking about the next ride.
Phil Hughes
Jacksonville, FL June 2011
That's what I like about traveling, You can
take a ride, sit down someplace and talk
to someone interesting. You can see something
beautiful, read a good book and That qualifies
as a good day. You do that at home and everyone
thinks that you are a bum.
Kim Kazan/Before Sunrise
So what is this all about? I suppose if you really want to go back to the beginning, it all began on a bicycle ride that I took from Aurora, Colorado to Walsenburg, Colorado back in the mid '80's. I think I was about half way through that 150+ mile ride when I began to think about a cross country ride on two wheels. The dream began to take shape. The TRIP, as I came to think of it, lodged itself firmly in my mind. I thoroughly enjoyed the ride and by the time that I got back home about all I could do was think about riding cross country on the bike. Over the next several weeks and months, I made my plans; I ordered special laminated maps made just for bicyclists from Bike Centennial, panniers lights and camping gear for the TRIP. I was ready. But then, I never went. Responsibilities, Jobs, Wife, Life all got in the way. The TRIP never happened but the dream never completely died. The maps are still in a cabinet drawer. I take them out to look at the route I had drawn on them. I got older and the wife and I eventually moved from Colorado Back to my home state of Florida where the bicycles that I had enjoyed for so many years were finally sold.
A few years after the bicycles had been sold, when gasoline was over $4/galllon and I needed a cheaper form of transportation. I used it as an excuse to buy a scooter. After taking The Motorcycle Safety Course and riding the scoot around town, I quickly realized what blast it was to ride and soon I was looking for a "real" bike. I went through a couple of them over the next few years before finally settling on the Yamaha. A big bike made for the highway and the long haul. With the big Yamaha touring motorcycle I realized that although the bicycles were gone, the Dream was still there and the TRIP could easily be done with the motorcycle. Easier, in fact, I could see more of the country on the two wheels of a motorcycle than I ever could on a bicycle.
The Trip was back on!
Where to go? I was still working for Citigroup and while I did have a good vacation package, retirement was still a ways off and time was limited for a cross country trip, even on a motorcycle. So I made a few short rides while I figured out to do for the TRIP: I rode a few hundred miles up into Georgia a few times, all the way to South Carolina and back in one day, some 400+ miles and down to South Florida to visit family several times. I was getting used to the bike.. I rode over to the panhandle of Florida one weekend, spending the night at a nice campground near Apalachicola. This was where I realized that the bike is set up ideally for camping. So I started buying some camping gear. A new tent, lightweight sleeping bag, stove and related camping items.
Last Fall, almost a year ago now, I was on the internet, reading about some of the bike rallies around the country. One in particular caught my attention, The Americade Motorcycle Bike Touring Rally which is held every June in Lake George, New York. Excited, I checked out Google Maps, A distance of 1320 miles from Jacksonville, FL to Lake George, NY.
AH HA! A destination for the TRIP. I could attend the very cool bike rally, head on over to Syracuse, visit with my brother for a day or so before riding back home. I sent off my registration for the bike rally and started waiting for the following June......and waiting.
It seemed as if June would never arrive. One should never make plans for a TRIP that far in advance. It gives you too much time to think about it and there are only so many things to do to prepare for it. After a while I began to wonder if my anticipation of the TRIP was going to be greater that the TRIP itself.
But finally winter passed by. I worked on the bike some and made sure it was ready. Spring time came around and I was ready. And finally June 1st came around. Without any fanfare, I threw a leg over the bike which had long been packed and ready to go, kissed the wife goodbye and rolled out of the driveway, heading north towards upstate New York.
It felt good to finally be on the road.
Soon I was riding onto the ramp for I-95 and the first of several interstate highways that would take me north. There are some folks who just hate riding on the interstate highways, staying to back roads all the time. I tend to disagree with them. I love the highway. Rather I should say, my bike loves the highway. The Yamah Royal Star was just plain made for the long ride. The 4 cylinder 1300 cc engine provides an easy, smooth, vibration free ride. A large windscreen keeps the wind and bugs out of my face. Highway pegs provide a resting place for my feet. There would be plenty of time for back roads when I reach the mountains
With my boots on the pegs, the cruise control set at 73 mph. I was soon riding north into Georgia, happily watching the scenery. Which, along the east coast of Georgia, is mostly just pine trees and flat marsh land. Past the medium sized town of Brunswick and the smaller coastal towns, I was soon riding into Savannah where I stopped for Gas and a bite to eat. Checking out the thermometer at the gas station the temperature was into the 90's. It was getting warmer the farther north I rode.
Across the Savannah River, riding into South Carolina, you immediately notice one thing.......the quality of the road. The state must not have much of a budget for road maintenance in South Carolina. The portion of I-95 that I rode through in the state was the most poorly maintained interstate highway of the entire trip. Fortunately, I did not have long to ride on this part of highway. Soon I was passing Waynesboro SC, and a few miles further I picked up I-26 heading northwest towards Columbia, SC.
Now riding northwest another 110 miles to Columbia, mostly uneventful but for the fact that the flat land off the south was gradually changing into some hills. As I rode down in to the valley that the City of Columbia sits in, the temperature kept climbing. The thermometer at a bank in Columbia read 93 degrees
I rode on over to Pete's house to spend the night with him and his lovely wife Geri. Pete and I go back a long, long ways, some 50 years to our teenage days. The thing is, I have only seen him twice since then and both of those times were within the last year. After our days at Melbourne High School, Pete headed west for California the Navy and Vietnam. We just hooked up again last year and renewed our friendship. Pete and his wife made me instantly feel at home in their nice house. The swimming pool in the backyard was especially enjoyed after the long hot ride. We stayed up talking about the good old days but soon enough I was off to bed. I needed to get a pretty early start. Pete said he would ride his Harley with me almost up to Charlotte, NC before having to turn back, about 100 miles, nice.
Geri was off to work early so I did not get to say goodbye to her in the morning. Pete and I rode on over to the local IHOP for a good breakfast then back on the highway heading north on I-77. It was nice ride and the only time I would be riding with someone else until I reached New York. Riding early in the morning was nice, cool but already you could tell it was going to be another hot day. We pulled off at an exit at near Rock Hill, SC. just before I-77 gets into North Carolina and Charlotte. We had a cool drink, I said goodbye to Pete and was off on my own again.
During the ride I tried to avoid large cities. They are just no fun at all. All you want to do is get through them and Charlotte, SC certainly was no exception. I could take the bypass around the city or continue on I-77 straight through downtown with all of its overpasses, underpasses, cloverleaf exits and the such.. I just wanted to get it done with so opted to go straight on through. It was not as bad as I thought it might be, I just followed the signs for I-77 North, watching all of the traffic around me and soon enough I was climbing into the hills beyond the city. Another 150 or so miles and I was crossing the border into Virginia.
It seemed as soon as I got into Virginia that things really began to change. The terrain got hillier, the air cooler, and traffic seemed to thin out, things started to smell different. Smells are one thing you really notice on a motorcycle. There is no air-conditioned comfort to sit your ass in. Your olfactory system can get overloaded. Smells are so vivid on a Motorcycle, tree, flower, swamp, river smells. Sometimes smells can bring back memories so strong that it seems as if I’m riding on a time machine.
Soon I-77 was going all up.....into the mountains of Virginia. This was my first experience in the mountains on a motorcycle. The air was getting cooler, I was actually glad for the touring jacket that I was wearing. I passed the turn off for the Blue Ridge Parkway. I think I let out a little yell. I know I had a huge grin on my face. Something very special was happening. I was in a part of the country I had never been before, What could be better? On my motorcycle with many miles to go, the weather was fine with just a few wispy clouds in an otherwise blue sky. A guy and his gal came up behind me and passed me on their bike and I realized my speed had dropped to less than 65 mph.......what was the hurry?
Not far into Virginia I-77 intersects with I-81 which I would ride for several hundred miles, all the way to Scranton, PA. I had no idea Virginia was such a beautiful state to ride through. If I have the time, on the way back I would like to ride some of its back roads. Even though the speed limit in Virginia is 70mph, I had the cruise control set at 65. I was enjoying this ride along the Smoky Mountains, the farms, houses and cabins tucked into the hills along the highway. It was so much different than the flat straight roads of Florida.
I-81 passes to the west of Roanoke, Va. Roanoke is a good sized town, so the traffic picked up nearby but quickly thinned back out a few miles north of the city. Most of the traffic on I-81 seemed to consist of semi trucks. Other than the fact that they created a lot of wind turbulence, I did not mind riding with them. During the whole trip I never had a problem with a big rig driver. I certainly could not say that about some of the cars. For some reason a few of them would get upset when I passed them and try to speed up to keep me from doing so. A couple pulled over into my lane without even looking. I was glad to get into Lexington, Va. as it had been a long day on the road. I had a bite to eat and spent the night at a small motel whose rates were not much more than the local KOA....easier than putting the tent up.
The next morning I was up pretty early and after a good breakfast I was back on the road again. This time though, off of the Interstate and on the back road headed for Waynesboro, VA and the southern entrance to the Skyline Drive. The Skyline Drive Is the only road through the Shenandoah National Park. It begins (or ends) at where the Blue Ridge Skyway ends (or begins) and runs 105 miles along the ridge of the smoky mountains. I was entering the park at the south end off of RT64 and not without a little trepidation. This would be my first real test of riding a motorcycle on a small two lane twisty mountain road.
I pulled up to the ranger station at the entrance to the park and the cute ranger gal at the kiosk asked if I had a pass. Not paying much attention to the bike as I should have, when I pulled out my wallet and the Senior National Parks Pass, the bike tipped over and was leaning up against the kiosk with my leg trapped between the bike and the cabin. The ranger, bless her heart, immediately saw my predicament and came out and around to the bike trying to pull it back upright. But at 800+ lbs, not any easy task. I had my leg trapped and could not get any leverage to help push it back up. We finally realized that she was not going to be of much help. But then, the two guys in the truck behind also realized what had happened and came along to help. Soon I was back upright on the road. An embarrassing way to enter the park!
Soon I was rolling up the road and I do mean up as the drive increased in elevation. The first of several hairpin turns were handled with relative ease and the 35mph speed limit sure surely kept me from getting into too much trouble in the turns. There were many scenic turn offs along the Drive, inviting one to stop and enjoy the incredible views of the mountains and take a few pictures. There was not much car traffic but quite a few bike riders out enjoying the ride. I saw several white-tailed deer beside the road while in the park. They are always nice to see but it is always a bit disconcerting while on a motorcycle as you have no idea whether they are going to stay where they are, go back into the woods or jump out in front of you. Towards the end of the Skyline Drive you come upon the Mary’s Rock Tunnel, it was completed in 1932 and completed the Skyline Drive which ends/begins just north of the tunnel.
It took me nearly 4 hours to ride the 105 miles of the Skyline Drive. What with its 35mph speed limit, its many scenic turnoffs and a couple of stops at the visitors centers. By the time I finished, I felt that I was beginning to get a handle on riding the twisty roads that were so different to my usual riding. Especially, while they were twisty going up and down. I thought about stopping for something to eat in the town of Front Royal at the end of the Skyline Drive but it seemed so busy with lots and lots of city traffic. All of the restaurants along the road seemed to be of the fast food variety so I rode on through on RT 340 heading, eventually, back over to I-81. Being this close to Washington DC, Baltimore, MD, and Winchester, VA, I ran into my first really serious traffic situation. Not that it wasn't moving along, it’s just that there was so much of it. It was a pretty tense ride all the way through the rest of Virginia, and across Maryland, through Hagerstown and into Pennsylvania. Finally I had to stop for gas at Shippensburg, Pa. There was also a relatively inexpensive motel right off of the exit so I decided to spend the night there.
There did not seem to be much else close by the motel…... a gas station with a convenience store attached and that was about it. Tired after a long day on the bike, after I checked into the motel, I walked over to the convince store, bought a few items and went back to check on the bike. Everything seemed to be well until I checked the tire pressure on the rear tire. It was only reading 28lbs when it should have been at 40....uh oh!. Checking the tire, I could not find anything but the tire is hard to get to with the fender and saddlebags. I added some air, brought the pressure in the tire back up to 40 psi, went into the motel room and had a meal of prepared sandwich, chips and a bottle of Gatorade while I watched some mindless stuff on the motel TV.....and worried about the tire.
Waking early, I took a quick shower, put on my shorts and a t-shirt and went outside to check on the bike. Sure enough, the air pressure in the rear tire was back down to 24psi just over night. Not good at all. Again I got out my air pump and put the air pressure back up to 40lbs. After changing into my riding gear and packing up I was on the highway again heading north, looking for Harley Davidson sign as they seem to have shops near exits on the interstate highways. I took the exit to Lebanon to get some gas and pulled into a Shell station. While filling up the tank another bike rider rode in to a pump nearby. I walked on over, explained my dilemma and he told me about a bike shop down the road just a few miles outside of the town of Lebanon, Pa.
As I rode into the parking lot of Lebanon Cycles, I was glad to have found a motorcycle dealer but dismayed at all of the activity. It was a Saturday morning and the place was hopping! Bikes and people were everywhere. I figured I would probably be lucky to get mine looked at on Monday. Parking the bike as close as I could get to the service area I walked in and talked to Dale, the service manager. What a pleasant surprise! After explaining the slow air leak on the tire and telling him about my ride from Florida to New York, He took care of things. Offering me a cup of coffee and a place to sit, Dale had another bike taken off of its stand and replaced with mine, took a mechanic off of another job to work on my bike. “We need to get this guy back on the road” he said to another of his people. It turned out that somewhere along the way I had picked up a pretty good sized nail right in the center of the rear tire. With another 2000 miles to go on the TRIP, I did not want to do it on a patch so had them replace the rear tire. While they were putting on the new tire I walked around the shop and talked with some of the folks there. Nice place, nice people. I lucked out! The tire could have gone flat in the middle of the mountains and I’d be sitting beside the road. As it was, within hours, I was back on the highway riding into a drizzling, misty rain that continued most all of the way to Scranton, Pa where my GPS finally decided to send me in the wrong direction.
Now the GPS is a great tool but it is only as good as the maps that have been downloaded into it. Reaching into Scranton, Pa., There seemed to be all kinds of construction going on along the interstate, rerouting the original interstate, so the GPS just got very confused. This also just happened to be where I wanted to finally get off and start taking the back roads towards New York. The GPS kept routing me thru the city, someplace I did not want to go. I needed to get on US6 which heads north east out of Scranton. Frustrated, I was not lost, I knew where I was and where I wanted to go, I just did not know how the heck to get there! So, after making several poor attempts at finding my way off of I-81 and onto US6, I finally stopped and asked for directions. A nice gal at the gas station told me where I was and what to do, “two exits north on I-81, stay right, merge onto US6” simple. Soon I was on my way to Carbondale. Still on a 4 lane highway but all of that was about to change. I spent the night at the Knights Inn in Carbondale in North Eastern Pennsylvania. The motel room smelled of stale smoke but I was too tired after the crazy day on the bike to complain about it. I got a light dinner at a small restaurant nearby and back in the room, read a bit before falling asleep.
The open road is a beckoning, a strangeness, a place where
A man can lose himself. William least Heat Moon
I’m in Honesdale, Pa. sitting at a gas station, looking a paper map of Pennsylvania and trying to figure the best way to get into New York State when a guy and his lady ride up behind me on their big Harley. We chatted for a bit and it turns out that this fellow was the manager for the local Harley Dealership. When I explained where I was going and trying to get into New York. He says, “There is only one way to go, take RT191 right straight north out of Honesdale. It is one of the prettiest rides in the state and will take you right where you need to be.” I topped off the gas tank, found 191and he was right about one thing; it was an absolutely gorgeous ride through the hills of northern PA. There was very little traffic. I had no idea that Pennsylvania had such nice countryside. Nearing New York, the Delaware River separates the two states, with 191 running along the Pennsylvania side. The river was wide and full from recent rains. Eventually the highway crosses the Delaware into New York and the town of Hancock where I got to watch a parade.
There was some sort of local thing going on: Right through the center of town…… A couple of high school bands, Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops, People riding horses and some antique automobiles. Everyone was out having a good time. I was stopped by the local police at the junction of Main Street and 1st Ave. so sat there on my bike as the parade of people passed by. It seemed that the whole town had turned out for whatever it was that was happening.
After the Parade I rode on alongside the Delaware River to the town of Walton where I stopped at a diner for a late breakfast/early lunch and had some great biscuits and gravy. From Walton I rode on over to thru Sidney Center, across I-80 and picked up RT7 to Unadilla. I passed by the house where my grandparents used live, except the house is no longer there. Washed away by one of the floods from the Susquehanna River that runs behind the property. I rode into Oneonta. You can see Hartwick College up on the hill above the city. My dad went to college there and, for a while, we all lived in a small trailer below the college. Oneonta now is a big city but Main Street remains pretty much the same.
The GPS finally led me north out of the city on State Rd 23 to the small town of Laurens. Actually I never went into Laurens. But off of 23 on a back road off of a back road I found the “camp” built by my dad and Grandfather way back when. Thing is though, the “camp” is no longer there. It was a small cabin along a creek on a couple of acres of land. Our Family, Aunt, Uncle, Cousins, Grandparents spent quite a few summers there, The whole Clan. I think it was really the only time that we were all together…..over half a century ago. Anyway, the cabin at the “camp” has long since been replaced with a much nicer house built by my cousin Kathy and her Husband Joe. Kathy had no idea I was coming by to visit so wondered who was rumbling up to their house out in the woods, on a motorcycle. Of course, she did not recognize me as we had not seen each other since she showed up at my doorstep one winter back when she was a good deal younger. So here I was doing the same thing to her some 30+ years later. After she figured out who the biker at her door was, I met her husband and she called her twin sister Ruth who came over to the house. We all had a good visit for a few hours before I got back on the bike and headed off to Cooperstown, NY.
“I don’t take checks or credit cards, cash only”, the proprietor of the Cooperstown Motel told me. “Don’t believe in ‘em, they only cause grief and expense that I don’t need”. Well I had never heard of a motel that did not take a credit card for payment before. Seems like most everyone takes credit cards these days, which is why I carry very little cash with me on my rides. “I can keep my rates lower, just because I don’t take plastic” He told me. The room rate sure was good and it looked like a nice place. Located on the outskirts of Cooperstown. So I handed over almost all of the cash in my wallet for two nights at the Cooperstown Motel, l unpacked my bike and took all of my stuff into a corner room on the first floor. It was a pretty nice room, well used as most of them are in your typical mom and pop motels. It was clean and smelled faintly of cigar smoke and disinfectant. No air conditioning though and probably not needed for 90% of the year in foothills of the Adirondack Mountains. I just happened to be riding through during the other 10%. I opened all the windows and with a breeze coming through it was at least tolerable and most likely would cool down pretty dramatically as soon as the sun went down.
Getting settled into the motel, I planned on staying for a couple of days. I could use a bit of downtime after 1100 miles on the road. There was still a bit of light left and as I had not had anything to eat since Walton, I changed clothes, and rode into Cooperstown proper to find a place to eat. I parked the bike down on the main street and enjoyed walking along the sidewalk there. Cooperstown has one claim to fame and it is a pretty big one….. Cooperstown is home to the Baseball Hall of Fame. And everything about the town revolves around it. There is a baseball field right downtown; the streets have baseball related names, the stores and restaurants the same: “Babes Brew”, “The Bat barn”, “Mickeys”, etc. I grabbed a quick bite to eat at a small restaurant, walked on back to the bike and rode back to the motel where I filled out a few post cards, called the wife and read a bit about the adventures of Travis Mcgee from an old John D Macdonald paperback that I had picked up at used bookstore downtown.
When I got up early the next morning there was a fellow working on his Harley parked right next to my bike. We introduced ourselves and I asked him if he would like to go to breakfast with me. We rode on over to a small restaurant where we had a fine meal and some great conversation. It turns out Joe worked security at the big hotel down at Lake Otsego, he stays at the motel during the week before riding home to his family on weekends. Getting back to the motel, Joe went off to bed as he works the graveyard shift at the hotel. I gathered some dirty clothes together stuck them into a pillowcase and into the pannier on the bike and went off to find a Laundromat. A few blocks off of the downtown area there was a sign for the laundry. I parked the bike in the public parking lot near the baseball field and went off to wash some clothes. At the laundry I asked the owner if she had a room where I could change my clothes and, she directed me to a small washroom in the back. I got out of my dirty riding clothes and donned a pair of shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt, now I looked every part the tourist that I was. I went back out handed her my riding clothes along with another sack of dirty clothes and after locking my boots and helmet back in the bike, headed out to see the town while my clothes got cleaned. First stop, the Baseball Hall of fame which was just around the corner. It was somewhat of a disappointment, I guess I expected a little more, I’m not really a huge baseball fan so I’m not sure what I was looking for, sure there was lots of baseball history there, lots of famous bats and jerseys on display. But I had more fun just walking around the town and watching the people. Lots of families all dressed up in baseball uniforms of their favorite teams, small children carrying bats over their shoulders in absolute awe of just being there.
The temperature was climbing and I was glad to be in shorts and a t-shirt while walking around. I paid for a snow cone and walked over to the beach. Cooperstown sits at the very southern end of Lake Otsego.it is a long narrow lake some 9 miles long and about a mile wide at it widest., surrounded by low lying hills. Lake Otsego is the source of the Susquehanna River which runs all the way to the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. Anyway, I found this nice small beach down by the lake side. Took off my sandals and walked in the cool water. I sat by the water’s edge thinking about the ride so far. Seemed funny how it had really only been a few days since leaving Florida yet it also seemed like a long time with all the miles and all the things that I had done so far. Tomorrow I would be heading into Adirondack Mountains, Lake George and my semi destination, The Americade Motorcycle Rally. I wandered back over to the laundry picked up my stuff which had all been cleaned, neatly folded and wrapped into a nice brown paper package, which, of course, would not fit into the panniers on my bike. So I unpacked everything took my riding clothes back out and put them on and then repacked all the clean clothes back into the bike. Rode on back of to the motel and had a nice conversation with the motel owner about growing up here and taking a canoe trip down the Susquehanna River all the way to the Chesapeake Bay when he was just a teenager. I was packing up my gear when I heard another bike ride in. I went outside and met David. Well, I thought I had been on a long ride; David was traveling from Sacramento, CA. To Edison, NJ before heading south to New Orleans then back home. We chatted for a while about his bike and ride before heading off to our rooms. I finished getting all my stuff packed up so that all I would have to do was shower and dress, in the morning.
Americade
Touted to be the largest Touring Motorcycle Rally in the World and for all I know it very well may be. I left Cooperstown and had a nice ride into the Adirondack Mountains of New York. As I got closer to Lake George, the numbers of bikes on the Road increased mile by mile until I found myself virtually riding in a pack down Canada Street into Lake George and The Americade Motorcycle Rally. For a few days during June, Motorcyclists take over this small lake side town. Unlike other rallies that I have been to where the majority of the bikes seem to be chopped Harley’s, the bikes at Americade are mostly all of the touring variety. Never had I seen so many Honda Goldwing’s all in one place and all tricked out in so many different ways, towing trailers and from many different locations: license plates from all over the country.
After checking in and registering, I rode back on through Canada Street which is the main ride through Lake George, sort of like Main Street at Daytona or Sturgis. North of town I pulled into the Hearthstone point Campground and set up the tent in a nice spot amid some huge pine trees, a picnic table, fire ring and a place to park the bike made up my little area. The campground was practically empty, asking the ranger about that he just said “it is only Tuesday; wait till Thursday evening it will be a zoo”. After getting the campsite all set up I checked out the pain in the bottom of my foot. I had stepped on a piece of glass before starting the trip. I thought that I had pretty much cleaned it all out and it had not bothered me too much during the ride but seemed somewhat inflamed and being right on the bottom of the ball of the ball of my right foot , hurt every time I stepped on it, not good! I got my first aid kit out: some Neosporin and a large band aid. There really was not a whole lot else to do. Pulling my boot back on it seemed to feel better. It was not a big deal while riding the bike but at the rally I figured to be doing some serious walking during the next couple of days.
The day was getting on but there was still some sun over the trees so I got back on the bike and took it back into town. I rode down along Lake George, what a pretty place. The town of Lake George sits at the very south end of the lake. Looking north into the lake you see the Adirondack Mountains on the west side of the lake and the hills of Vermont on the east side. The lake is 32 miles long and varies from 1-3 miles wide; it drains into Lake Champlain via the La Chute River. The Vendors for the Rally were set up down by the lake. But as the sun was setting I did not have time to stop so went off looking for a place to eat. I really had not had anything to eat since breakfast at a diner outside of Cooperstown so I was pretty hungry. The thing is finding a sit down place to eat at a motorcycle rally can be nearly next to impossible. Sometimes luck is with you though. Riding back on Canada Street I found a place to back the bike in among hundreds of other motorcycles and getting off the bike I turned around looking at the door of a Seafood Restaurant. I don’t remember what the name of it was and I guess I was too tired to remember it. Anyway, I walked in and was immediately seated at a table with another group of bike riders. I ordered the Seafood Platter which was excellent and had a great meal and some fine conversation. Turns out some of the people at the table were from France. They try to come over every year. Flying into New Jersey, They rent bikes there and ride them to Lake George….truly giving an international feel to the rally. After a fine meal, I said goodbye to my new friends and proceeded back on to the campground. Which, by the time I arrived, was completely in the dark. I crawled into the tent, turned on the lantern hanging from the ceiling and reflected on the journey…some 1300 miles from Florida, a flat tire, mountains, highway miles, new friends, great weather. Who could ask for more….well, the flat tire………..
Wednesday morning I was up with the sun. During the night someone had moved into the camp site across the road from me. I never heard them come in. I boiled some water and made a cup of coffee and some instant cereal for a quick breakfast. The new people were rousing about the time I finished my coffee so I walked over and chatted with them for a while. They had driven in from Rochester NY, hauling their bikes in a trailer and seemed quite surprised that I had actually ridden my bike up from Florida. I have somewhat of a hard time with folks who don’t appreciate or understand the Long Ride so while they were unloading their shiny Harleys from the trailer I went back, cleaned things up, closed up the camp and took the short trip back into Lake George and Americade.
There are basically two places to park your bike at Americade, along Canada Street or at the designated parking area down by the lake. Well, I had already done the Canada street thing so rode on down to the lake again and the large grassy/park area that had been set up for motorcycle parking. About the size of 3 football fields, it was already more than half full. I found a lone tree over in to the side of the field and parked there so that I would be able to find the bike again. Really, if you were not paying attention, you could spend hours trying to find your bike! I spent the rest of the day walking around Lake George and the Americade Rally. I visited the vendors down by the lake which were the same vendors that one sees at any of the other bike rallies, same people too. The lady that works at Ultimate Seats in Ormond Beach was at their tent and we had a nice chat. I took a Demo ride on the new BMW K1600GTL. A nice ride but with all of its high tech stuff I wondered what mechanics would be able to fix them a few years down the road. I visited Ft William Henry in the Center of Town and just had a generally nice day walking around even though the pain in the foot was beginning to become a bit of a bother. While I was having and ice cream cone down by the lake and talking to one of the locals he mentioned that I should take a ride up along the lake and over into Vermont. I had not even thought about doing that but from his description, it sure sounded like a nice ride. So rather than hurt the foot anymore I decided to go on back to the camp, get into bed and up early for a ride north in the morning. Back at the camp I made up another exciting meal of canned chili and had my first alcohol on the trip, I stopped at a liquor store on the way back to the campground and talked the owner into selling me three bottles of Guinness. The canned chili was OK, the Guinness afterwards was great. I was in the tent early and not even in the sleeping bag as the weather was unusually warm with temps in the mid to high 80’s…of course I woke up a few hours later freezing as the temperature plummeted.
“A Journey is like a marriage, the certain way to be wrong is to think that you control it.”
John Steinbeck
Vermont
When I left the next morning, the Harley folks across the way were still sleeping in. There was a bit of fog hanging in the trees and the sky seemed cloudy or maybe it was just misty. Riding north on 9N, the road goes right along the edge of Lake George. Weird thing, all of the roads leading out of Lake George are #9, you have 9N, 9 and 9L. I rode the 32 miles to the end of Lake George where I pulled over at an incredibly gorgeous, scenic turn out and overlook at the north end of the lake. There was another rider already stopped there, we talked a bit and took pictures of each other. I told him I was thinking of riding over into Vermont and he said I should take the ferry at Ticonderoga, only a few miles up the road. Sure enough at Ticonderoga there was a sign for the ferry. I took the turn off from 9N to go to the ferry, three miles later I arrived to find that it was closed! You would think that someone could have put up a sign at the turn off from 9N. Oh well, I rode on back and stopped to get gas a bit north of the turn off and found out that the Ticonderoga Ferry had actually been closed for quite some time and that there was a new one at Crown Point which was another 10 miles north on 9N. Arriving in Crown Point, I stopped and had a fine breakfast at a quaint little restaurant. Besides the owner/cook, I was the only one there so we had a good conversation. Turns out that there used to be a bridge across the river but it got old so the NY Department of Transportation blew it up and was in the process of building another. However, seeing as the Ticonderoga ferry closed down there was really no way to get into Vermont unless you went all the way north of Lake Champlain. So they put a ferry in at Crown Point till the new bridge gets built. When I arrived at the ferry there were several other bike riders waiting for it. We all got on the ferry, crossed the river and rode off into Vermont.
The countryside in Vermont, even though it was just across the River from New York was completely different. With open land, farms, pastures and rolling hills, cattle along the fence. I stopped at a general store to pick up a couple of post cards and nice surprise! Found that the gasoline prices had dropped from well over $4/gal in NY to $3.20/gal in Vermont. I made a mental note to fill up before going back across the border. In Vermont, I rode through the rolling hills, looking for one of its famous covered bridges but never did find one. Eventually I got onto 22A and headed back south: then RT4 and 149 back over towards Lake George. I stopped in Lake George looking for a place to eat but this time, not quite so lucky, more people arriving for the rally so fewer places to eat. So I rode on through Lake George and about five miles out of town to Warresburg, where I had a delightful meal. Riding back towards the campsite, I passed by the Green Acres Motel. It was not flashing a NO VACANCY sign and looked like a nice place so I decided to ride back and check it out. I found a nice room there at a very reasonable price. I rode on over to the campsite, packed things up and moved back to the motel. After the long day on the bike the hot shower and soft bed felt a lot nicer than sleeping on the ground over at the campsite would have been.
The next morning I was on the road early through Warrensburg where I stopped for a light breakfast then a misty morning into the Adirondack National Park. The Adirondack Park is the largest National park in the continental USA, some 6 million acres. The southern area, where I was riding, is not nearly as mountainous as the northern area but there are many good sized “hills” and lots of scenic lakes. I rode through the small towns of Indian Lake, Blue Mountain, Raquette Lake, Eagle Bay and Otter Lake while crossing through the park. The weather was fine: partly cloudy with an occasional sprinkle to keep things cool. Coming down through the hills and out of the west side of the park, just past the town of Woodgate, traffic backed up, dusty construction vehicles appeared alongside the road. Creeping around a bend there was a flagman directing traffic and large temporary sign off to the side of the road “Gravel Road next 21/2 Miles”. The front of the bike dropped off of the pavement into deep gravel. With the slow traffic it was a real chore just keeping the bike upright for the next couple of miles. The joys of Motorcycle Travel! It was with no little relief that I made it back onto solid pavement without any mishap. I rode the remaining 30 miles or so into Rome and stopped at a McD’s to treat myself to an iced coffee. Out of Rome I took RT49 over to Sylvan Beach near Lake Oneida. Following the edge of the lake and the back roads into Syracuse NY, I rolled into my brothers Driveway a little before 5 p.m.
Syracuse
“Those that Can, Do. Those that Can’t Criticize”
Paul Hughes
It was good to visit and spend some time with my brother and I need some down time. The sore on the bottom of my foot was beginning to become more than just an annoyance, something that I could not keep ignoring. But I really did not know what to do about it.
On Saturday morning we went over to the park to watch Paul’s granddaughter, Natalie, play in a softball game. While there I met Natalie’s mom, Dawn and husband Josh. Dawn, being a nurse took a look at the, by now, quite inflamed sore and, quite concerned, she told me that I needed to get it looked at ASAP. We spent the rest of the day over at their house, had a fine visit and barbeque out on the back deck. Back to Pauls’ that evening and we were up early on Sunday morning for a trip to the Syracuse Urgent Care Clinic where I spent the next four hours, mostly waiting for someone to see me. Finally getting all the paperwork filled out, I got to see the doctor on call at the time. He did not seem to be too happy about having to spend his Sunday morning at the hospital. He asked if I had Diabetes, when I said no, he says “well we’re going to take some tests just to make sure and if you do we will be admitting you into the hospital.” HUH! I thought. This is not what I wanted to hear. So the nurse takes some blood and I get to sit in the examining room for another hour or so waiting form the results. Finally, the Doctor comes back in, says, “All your blood levels are OK, no diabetes. But you have a really bad infection that needs to be taken care of.” We talked for a bit and when he found out that I was on my bike trip he mellowed considerably as he was also a biker and had recently taken a trip from North Carolina back to NY after buying a bike there. So, after a penicillin shot and a prescription for some antibiotic drugs, a set of crutches and instructions to stay off of the foot for as long as possible before heading back to Florida, I called Paul and he picked me up. We went out and had a nice lunch and enjoyed what was left of the weekend. Talking with my Paul, reading some and just taking it easy, letting my little brother take care of me.
On Monday I found a Podiatrist who could see me on that afternoon so we drove over and the Podiatrist examined the sore in my foot, dug around a bit and found out what was creating the whole problem. He pulled out a small piece of glass that was lodged deep into the ball of me foot. It almost immediately began to feel better after he took the glass out. At least it did not hurt so much when I stepped on it. Back to Pauls’ house I said goodbye to him as he had to be to work in Utica on Tuesday morning so he left Syracuse Monday night. I packed up most all of my stuff, set it out by the front door so that I could get an early start and head on back south.
Some People Ride In the Rain….Others Just get Wet
I woke to a cloudy, cool, almost cold day and rain. I don’t much mind riding in the rain. It is part of Motorcycle touring….motorcycle riding. Ride a bike long enough and you will ride in the rain. But I really hate starting a ride in the rain. Not having much choice though, I put on all of my rain gear, loaded up the bike and rolled out onto the highway. I-81 runs almost from Pauls’ front door to all the way to South Carolina. So leaving Pauls’ I punched in “Home” on the GPS and soon I was cruising down the highway towards Birmingham….in the rain, which did not let up until I passed over the Pennsylvania state line where the weather cleared up, the sun came out and turned into a fine day for a bike ride. This was my longest day on the bike for the whole trip. Through Pennsylvania, Maryland, a small piece of West Virginia and into Virginia with the sun setting I stopped for the night at Woodstock, 427 miles from Syracuse. From Woodstock to Waynesboro, VA was a little over 75 miles and I was off of the interstate. At Waynesboro, You can head north on the Skyline Drive which I had done about two weeks ago, if you turn south, you are on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Blue Ridge is about the same as the Skyline Drive, running along the top of the Smoky Mountains. There was hardly any traffic at all. It seemed that I had the road all to myself. I had no problem stopping in the middle of the road to take a picture. Unlike the Skyline Drive, there are quite a few roads that cross the Parkway so after about 30 miles on the BRP, I decided it was time for a change and got off of the Parkway onto RT60 and what a treat it was! Downhill, in the mountains for the next 20-30 miles it followed a stream so it was quite twisty, the turns were banked high and you could almost ride through them without touching the brakes, just lean the bike a little into the turn then lean the other way into the next turn. It was like that most all of the way out of the mountains to the small town with the unlikely name of Forks of Buffalo which really was hardly more than a few houses, a gas station and a convenience store where I stopped to top off the gas and get a bike to eat. Coming out of the convenience store there were a few guys standing around the bike. One of them said “Did you ride that all the way from Florida?” “Well, actually, I said, I rode it to New York and I’m on the way back to Florida now.” “Damn, that’s one long ride” he said. As if somehow there was something unusual about it. I just cannot imagine any other way in which I would rather ride. I picked up RT29 at Amherst and rode it down through the pretty country in central Virginia, lots of Farmland, Horse and Cattle country. Just south of Danville RT29 crosses into North Carolina where I stopped for gas and a late lunch at Mayville before pushing on through to the good sized town with the traffic to go along with it at Greensboro. South of Greensboro is US220 a four lane road with a wide median that should be an interstate highway but isn’t, maybe because it is not long enough. Whatever, it was a delightful ride through the North Carolina countryside all the way to Rockingham where I picked up US1 heading into South Carolina. Again, another long day on the bike. When I started out on the trip a 200 mile day seemed about all that I could do. It’s not that I wanted to get anywhere in a hurry but it was nice to know that I could do the miles if I needed or wanted to. Riding past the towns of Society Hill and Darlington, I finally arrived at the familiar I-95. Shortly after getting on the Interstate I saw a sign for the Ramada Inn at the next exit. As it was to be my last night on the road, I figured why not spend it at a nice place. I pulled into the Ramada Inn at Florence and was pleasantly surprised at the nice clean room and decent rate. There was also a restaurant attached serving a buffet, so I had a nice meal before going back to the room, Before going in I checked the odometer on the bike…..another long ride, 394 miles.
After a cup of coffee, I was on the bike, back on I-95 and heading on home. According to my GPS it is another 291 miles with an arrival time of 12:36pm. Of course that assumes no stops so figuring a couple of gas stops, a stop or 2 for a bite to eat, maybe a stop by a McD’s for an iced coffee…somewhere between 2-3 pm. I’m in no real rush.
Some thoughts on THE RIDE.
It has been Outstanding, Superlative, Spectacular, Magnificent, Exceptional, and Momentous. More than I expected but then also still somewhat less. I did not complete the whole trip as originally planned, mostly due to the infection in my foot but also due to a lack of time. The original plan to ride back through Kentucky Tennessee, and ride the Natchez Trace was just a bit too ambitious. But that is OK as well. These places will still be there and rides to look forward to.
The bike has run great. I cannot say enough good things about it. There was never a moment’s hesitation during the ride. The cruise control made life on the highway so much easier. The only problem was the flat tire but that had nothing to do with the bike and turned into a bit of an adventure itself. I averaged a little less than 40 miles to the gallon of gas for the trip, not bad especially considering that more than half of the miles were on the Interstate at highway speeds.
It sure is nice to have family to take care of you when you need it.
Thanks Paul!
Camping: I did not do enough of it. On future rides I need to do more, motels are just way out of line. 12 dollars at a nice campsite vs 80-100 dollars at a motel is really a no brainer. I need to get a better sleeping pad or air mattress though. The Thermarest pad that I used may have been fine during my backpacking days, but as I get older I need a bit more comfort.
We live in such a beautiful country: From the Atlantic Ocean in Florida, the Bayous of Georgia to the Mountains of Virginia, Pennsylvania and New York, The Farm country of Vermont and the roads that connect them all. I have driven a car across the country several times. However, after this trip, I am convinced that the best way to see the USA, experience its sights, sounds, smells, delights and its people is on a motorcycle.
“The World is a book and those that do not travel read only a page”
Helen Keller
Riding South on I-95, cruising along a 70 mph, finally getting on the good highway surface after the poor ones in South Carolina. There is not a whole lot of traffic on a Thursday morning. The usual trucking but the tourists heading into Florida seem to be off of the road this morning. Maybe they are just getting a late start or maybe it is the crappy economy. Anyway, it’s nice to have the open highway for the last leg of the ride home. I stopped at the Florida visitor’s center just across the border. I had a complimentary cup of Florida Orange Juice and the girl at the counter asked me where I was coming from.
“Not coming from, I said, Just going home.” It’s funny how the smells change and the feel in the air changes as soon as you get into Florida the air feels heavier and there is almost a smell of the ocean in the air. Soon I was crossing the St Johns River and a few turns later I backed the bike into the Driveway. 3150 miles. It always feels good to get home but I’m already thinking about the next ride.
Phil Hughes
Jacksonville, FL June 2011