Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
Adventures in Sport
Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT
Exploring North America...One Road
at a Time
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Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
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Day 3 A cool, cloudy morning greeted us as we loaded the bikes for a 7am departure time. With 7 bikes, we decided to utilize the "drop and sweep" method of group riding. A very efficient, and well organized method to manage a line of bikes. Accountability is built in, and it allows a group to move through towns, and hamlets without slowing traffic or leaving the guys in the rear guessing what's going on. Uncle Phil and I were introduced to it in the UK, where organization is vital. It was recently used on VVV with great success. I briefed everyone on how the operation works, and we were ready to go. (if you would like more details on the drop and sweep email me) Peter volunteered to "sweep" and went to the rear. Because I was in a group, and had to keep up, I was unable to take any pics along the the way. Price of riding in a group, but not a total loss, I have several pictures from previous rides on 16. After a brief discussion it was decided everyone was good on gas for at least 100 miles, so we skipped topping off in favor of getting on the road. We left Parkersburg on U.S. 50 heading east to the hills and SR 16. I was near the front and followed Charlie's blue 1300. We came around several school buses and I could feel the eyes of children watching us as our group slipped past. Charlie led us from 50 to SR 31 and we ventured into the hills of West Virginia coal country. The mountain hamlet of Cairo was the first Appalachia village we passed through on this day. Like most West Virginia towns it is situated in a valley with a creek. You will find a lot of roads in this state built along the banks of water, because it is one of the few flat areas. The towns are not wide, but run long. A guy can go out his back door and touch a mountain, out his front door and swept back by cars on the highway. Things are that close. The roadway weaved through town and our line of bikes came through the business district of the unsuspecting occupants. STs are so quiet they failed to hear us on the approach. Things were relatively calm, as shop owners and workers were starting their day. Our line of bikes were probably the most exciting thing they would see all day. Past the old store fronts and wood frame houses we went, and out the the other side climbing into a fine mist and fog. The twists were good as I followed the Hondas up the hills, down the backsides, and then the flat, as the road followed the troughs of the hills. I checked the ESA to make sure I was on "sport." One of the rules for drop and sweep, is never pass the guy in front of you. None of us in our group worried about being in the rear of a bike that may not take the curve as fast. I know I didn't. The drop and sweep allows all time in the front. We wanted everyone to ride his own ride, and not be pressured into riding what he felt wasn't comfortable. We started this ride with a few goals- Have fun, a good ride, and make sure everyone gets to Cruso. It was understood if those things bothered you, might better strike out on your own. SR 16 is ultra twisty, and technical, and none of us felt we had anything to prove. We had a safe ride, and didn't push the envelope. If some call that boring, then we will wear the label. Some patterns began to emerge as we leaned the hills. I was always able to take a tighter, more inside line than the Hondas. No matter which rider I was behind, whether he was on the 1100 or 1300 that always held true. The lighter, more nimble RT, seemed to just fall in line at the slightest lean from my body. Exiting curves the Hondas had the advantage, they are more forgiving if you pick the wrong gear, and power out easily if you let the rpms drop too low. Do that on the RT and it shudders asking you to drop one. The RT is over 200 lbs lighter than the Hondas, and it makes a big difference. The RT has much better feedback from the road than my 1300, which I took through this area last year. Here is a summary. On the 1300 I can't even keep my friends in sight, I'm basically a flatlander, and it shows when I'm on the Honda. But on the RT I can run with them. It is a good testimony when a bike makes a guy better than he really is. The riding was intense as we worked our way through the fog, coming over a series of peaks. In the low spots thick timberland dominated and as we moved up we saw farm houses and pastures. Our leaning was only broken up when we entered the small mountain towns. The thick cloud cover was annoying, but we were dealing with it. Two slow moving gravel trucks put the skids on us for several miles. Fall colors were mostly absent. The same week in years past brought good color, but I guess the weather had been different this year. Charlie took us on a series of back roads till we arrived in Grantsville on SR 16. We'd already been leaning for 2 hours and this was only the beginning of SR 16. Grantsville is a little larger than most of the towns we had passed through, our line of bikes moved through the streets in precision, dropping riders to mark turns, at the same time steadily moving. If a traffic light or car cuts some of the group off, no problem, someone will be waiting at the next decision making spot. No need for the entire group to hold up for the others to catch up. Funny how people take notice when you look like you know what you're doing, and not just a gaggle of bikes tearing through the town. Charlie led us to the "Koffee Kup", a small cafe in the business district with a barber shop next door. Time for breakfast. I had toast, but the others dove out on some HUGE biscuits. Uncle Phil gave his nod of approval. He is the reigning authority on breakfast. Charlie told me a little history on the area. "In the old days, the coal companies controlled everything. They prevented roads from being built in these hills. They wanted to keep the areas isolated. They paid the miners with company money, that could only be spent in company stores. Breaking out was almost impossible for anyone." It must have been really sad. Not like Greyhound is going to sell you a ticket with funny company money. I do recall reading in history books the feds finally sent troops in here to get things under control. If not mistaken, I believe they had a shooting war with the companies almost 100 years ago. I was going back to my bike after eating when I asked the barber, who was leaning out his front door, for a haircut. "Sure c'mon on in." I passed, knowing I had miles to put down. We left breakfast looking for gas but the station we choose on the south end of town had the premium pumps bagged. Not good for the RT or Jim's RS. The BMWs needed the hard stuff, as did the two 1300s in our group. We decided to ride on to the next town. I was still a few miles from reserve. South out of Grantsville there are so many curves and Esses I was getting dizzy. Our line spread out perhaps a half mile, and I focused on the bike in front. Short steep hills popped up out of nowhere, with hard bending turns just pass the crest. It was as easy to get airborne as a F 14 on this road. We passed a few slow moving cars, but for the most part the hills were ours to enjoy.
The mirrors on the RT are as about as useful as mammaries on a bull. I couldn't see a thing behind me without shifting around on the seat, or sweeping the RT across the lane. It was annoying not being able to see my rear. I had noticed the old fashioned mirrors on Jim's RS and wondered if they would work on the RT. "I'll check that out this evening." I recall a slow moving car interrupting our line. The bikes ahead of Uncle Phil and I made the pass, while we waited our turn. I was directly behind him when I saw his red ST lurch, then buck, when he dropped 1 and pulled out, on a double yellow. My eyes quickly looked ahead; he has enough room but a hard right hander is going to be on him before he can get back in if he miss times it. "I know he's gonna make it, but I gotta see how he's gonna pull it off." I whispered in the Arai. As soon as the ST cleared the front bumper, he was back in grabbing the brakes to get the ST down to a a manageable speed to make the curve. His brake light stayed lit as he entered the curve and he heeled the bike over, coming through with ease. By the time we stopped for gas I was deep in reserve. The RT took in a little more then 6 gallons. I checked the computer for mpg the last 125 miles. A little better than 48 mpg, that included a 50 mile blast down I-77. Not bad.
Clouds began to break up just a little as we moved south through the thick West Virginia forests. Charlie led us around Beckley, when I came through here in 2003, I followed the route through town. A big mistake, lots of stop and go. Today was much better, as we by passed around on 64 and I-77. Lunch was a quick chicken sandwich at Hardees just south of the city. I was made fun of again for eating chicken.
The sun was at last coming out as we rode south through the hills on 16. The gritty mountain towns we passed through all seemed the same. I wondered what happened to them when the rains came. When torrents of water wash down from the hills and swell the peaceful looking creeks these places inevitably cling to. I imagine flood insurance is hard to come by for the residents. Villages such as Sohipa, Mullens, and Wolf Pens, served as the only buffers in the miles of leaning. The old brick fronts on the shops looked something out of a old movie. They were the places Masons, Legionnaires, and VFW men met. Sometime I noticed a marble slab by the front door with the date of construction, "Conner Building, 1933 AD." Many of the bridges and buildings built with WPA funds to combat Depression Era unemployment. Our grouped stopped in War near the Virginia state line for a break. I went in the con store but was advised there were no public restrooms. Pissed off I refused to buy anything, and gave my business to a Rite Aide drugstore next door. A pretty blond clerk named Crystal told me about life in War. She had on the blue lab coat they give employees working in large drug store chains. "So what do y'all do in War for fun?" She spoke in a sweet Virginia accent. "Well that depends." "On what?" "On the weather silly, if its cold we just hang out someplace warm, like the bowling alley. But in the summer we go 4 wheelin." I paid for my popcorn and diet Dew and replied. "Well I bet there's plenty of places for that around here." Standing around we discussed where to spend the night. We decided Marion looked as good as any. We wanted to get off the road before evening, and assumed the city would have a few options in the way of motels. Andy Purmals commented, "you know these places have nice football stadiums." I said, "Andy these stadiums ain't nothing. In Alabama we have high school fields, many pro teams would be proud off. A nice stadium means the city is prosperous. They are points of pride." Back on the road we crossed into Virginia to begin some of the best riding of the day. Charlie picked up the pace as the road moved up in elevation. We were having fun till we met 2 pick up trucks with ATVs in beds. The were diesel and the fumes choked us. They crawled along the hills at 40 mph. It became apparent after several miles, they were not going to turnout. They were going to make us do it the hard way. Peter Menard threw his arms up in desperation, hoping the gesture would help. The 2 trucks were spaced as such that it would make it difficult to pass. Charlie made it, then I waited my turn. I finally got a break and got both of them on a short straight and was off to enjoy myself in the hills. One of the most satisfying passes ever put down. This was my 3rd time on this section of 16, but my first running it north-south. It was great.
I had to give up my spot to mark a turn, I didn't want to, but the needs of the group come first. I was near the end of the run anyway, so not all that bad. The road bent hard left, while another entered in the curve. It would be easy to take the road coming in, instead of staying with the highway as it went around. I dropped off to make sure everyone knew to keep curving and not go straight. Peter went by, Uncle Phil, then Jim, and I waited and waited for Mike and Andy. Five minutes went by still no sign of them. Mike had been in the sweeper position since lunch, so I knew he was last. I kept waiting and waiting. Almost 10 minutes had went by and I was about to go back looking for them when they appeared. They were still trapped behind the "good ole boys" in the trucks. "Man that had to suck being stuck behind them on a road like that," as Mike let me back in. A few miles later we went by Hungry Mother (camped there last year) into Tazewell.
A short ride from Tazewell put us in Marion, where we topped off the tanks, it had been a great ride from Parkersburg. We decided to call it a day, and went down the street to check in a pricey Best Western. I split the cost of the 80 dollar room with Mike Gregory. Mike said he had a voice mail from Jay Richardson. He was in Mount Airy and would look for us the next day. Attempts to call him failed. His phone had no voice mail options. I unloaded the RT and took a shower, after a 302 mile day. Supper was a short ride to a local place on I-81. A quiet cafe with the name Apple in the title somewhere. Our waitress was a lady who had lived in the area for 15 years and had never been to Parkersburg or Mount Airy. Peter and I thought that amazing, but not uncommon for folks around here. They were out of chicken, and I had to resort to dark meat to the relief of everyone at the table. After supper it was a dark, coolish ride back to the motel. Andy and I stopped off at Wal Mart. I needed more bread, and a few other items. Back at the motel I hung around Charlie's room discussing options for the next day's ride. All of us were baby boomers and grew up watching Andy Griffith. For whatever reason, we wanted to ride into Mount Airy and see town that inspired the TV show. We weren't sure what we would find there, but a lot of folks in the Honda community were curious, and following our trek. Charlie finished out the plan and I went back to the room to get some sleep. The weather channel said it would be a good day tomorrow. We had broken out of the thick clouds north of us and should have sun and warm temps the next few days. Next- Visiting Mayberry, over Roan Mountain, on the Blue Ridge Parkway
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