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

Day 2
October 6th, 2008
Paneytown State Park                                                         Video!    
Near Bloomington, Indiana                              - Day 2 Ohio River Valley

I was up early and stretched out in my sleeping bag thinking, "dang I slept good, but time to get moving."  It usually takes a couple of nights to get use to my tent but not this time.  The campground was quiet, dark, cool, with lots of fresh air.  The morning reminded me why I like to camp.  "Can't beat the price, and my tent and bag are clean and comfortable, so much better then a musky old motel room."

I took this picture of the sun rising over Monroe Lake, just
a few feet from my tent.

Morning comes late this time of year, and I was packing and breaking camp in the pre dawn light.  Tall trees swayed in a light wind, and birds chirped and swooped all around.  It was a good morning to be going for a ride, maybe because it had been awhile since my last road trip, but the morning was one of the most pleasant of my career.  It reminded me why I love doing what I do so much, I had missed it terribly this past summer.

I loaded the ST, fired it up and let it idle up then down.  I took care of today's route back in my study with my GPS software, but instead of downloading I had to write them down.  The route was complicated to Charleston, West Virginia, but I had good notes, and hoped it would be enough.  It wasn't.

      The ST idles up to get ready to start the day.

A few miles from the park gate I saw a doe on the side of the road.  I stopped and she bolted back into the woods.  The only deer I saw the entire trip, amazing considering the environments I was in.

Out of the park I went north on SR 46 and within a few miles became bogged down in Bloomington commuter traffic.  I was greeted by school busses, delivery trucks, and new hybrid cars.

Coming out of Bloomington I passed two 18 wheelers with one shot.  You have to love the power of a ST 1300.

South of Columbus I knew my route would turn tricky, because I was looking for county roads not in my atlas.  My notes told me to look for a road titled "200 S," my software said it was paved but little else.  I was riding south on SR 7 when I found a tiny sign pointing the way.

I took it and a quarter mile later I came to a dead end.  "Well somebody messed up somewhere, cause this road ain't goin anywhere."  I got off the bike and looked around, then got out the map, which wasn't much help.  I was looking at corn in all directions. I went back out to SR 7 South, "I'll stop and quiz the first someone I see."

Someone needs to tell the Indiana Highway Dept. this is
not route 200 S.

At the crossroads of U.S. 31 and SR 7 I found a mega con store and went in.  U.S. 31 traverses right by my house almost.

I went inside for a Mountain Dew to go with my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, then went out and stood near the bike to enjoy my break.  A man making a ice delivery pulled in and I asked him about 200 S.  "I think its that road right back up there, they kinda cut off a section to eliminate a bad intersection, and it was sorta rerouted."  "Well thats nice, but don't ya reckon they oughta take the old sign down?"

After calling Debbie I sent my son and niece in law a text, and I sent Megan (my niece in Va) a text I'd be seeing in her in a couple of days.  I also checked the weather radar and was happy to see no rain within 500 miles of my position.

                       Indiana Fields

After taking care of business I saddled up and went to the new 200 S and left the main highway for a ride through the cornfields and pastures.  The scenery was typical Indiana, and very different from the trees and forests of the southern portions of the state.

An old tractor layed rusting on the edge of a harvested cornfield, baked in summer and battered by ice and rain in winter, the old International Harvester needed to be scrapped, but I guess nobody wanted to pay to have it towed away.

Alert, Indiana seemed anything but when I landed a few miles after leaving the highway.  I stopped to check out a mercantile building, but nothing was happening as far as I could tell.  The town was a few houses and a post office.  The trees seemed to gather around homes like hikers to a campfire on a cold night.  You had to only ride a few blocks to be back in the cornfiields.

A few roads came to Alert, but none of them were marked.  I had no idea where I was suppose to go.  I had the route number on my sleeve, but with no signs I had no way of knowing which one it was.  I took a guess and went straight, but it turned to gravel in a half mile so I went back to Alert to ask for help.

I was moving slow looking for someone outside when I saw a couple under some trees in a small fenced area near their home.  I shut the ST down, and met the lady at a bob wire fence.  I skipped asking for numbers, because a good chance the lady would no know them.  Many people in Prattville don't know Memorial Drive is U.S. 31 through Prattville.  My guess it would be the same here.  

Instead I asked-

"M'am I trying to get to Letts, how do I do that?"

"Go back that way and turn left, when the road T bones make a right, then go left then make a right you'll see it."

"Anything there?"

"Not hardly, just a hardware store.  So why ya goin there?"

"Long story m'am, but lets just say I have time on my hands."

I followed the instructions to Letts, they proved to be quite accurate.  Still no numbered signs were present so I took another guess, which proved to be no better then the first.

About all I can say about the old county road it was paved.  But I don't know if that did it any good or not.  It was narrow and in very bad shape.  It took me across a narrow rickety bridge, that I thought might collapse under the weight of me and my motorcycle.

I came into 2 crossroads with no kind of signage.  I was looking for a place Milhousen because it was on my notes as a place I needed to be to pick up my next route.  This no GPS thing was really getting to me.

I took a guess and went right, and a few miles later the road ended at a livestock farm.  The barn and loading area were just a few feet off the roadway.  The stench nearly toppled me off the ST.  I was lost as heck, and strained to see if anyone was about I could ask.  I got lucky and found a farmhand.

"How do I get to Milhousen from here?"

"Go back the way you came, and take a left after you top the hill, that should take you to Milhousenn."  I was getting low on gas and was a little worried.  I was showing 2 bars.

Somehow I messed that up and went back into Letts.  "This is ridiculous, why don't they put a sign on these roads?"  I turned around and went back looking for the road to take me to Milhousen, "I know its there, I saw it on the map."

This time I pulled to the edge of a field, and waved a farmer on his tractor to come help me.  Soon a big combine thing rumbled over and the driver got out.  I think it was some kind of corn picker.

"How do I get to Millhousen?"

"I knew you'd be back, been watching you come by here the last 3 times."

"don't say anything, I'm not really this bad."

He pointed down a road and said, "this really isn't the road you need but just stay on it and everytime you gotta make a decision go right.  Its the long way but the most simple."

"thanks"

Armed with these simple instructions I made it to Milhousen, but now I had to go to Napoleon, and again none of the roads are marked in the hamlet.

Milhousen is dominated by a big Catholic Church with a tall steeple.  When I couldn't find any signs I went back to it to ask the guys I saw there working where to go.  A huge crane thing with a man in a basket working on the steeple was in operation at the church.  I pulled in and asked the operator-

"How do I get to Napoleon from here?"  I didn't want him to take his eyes off the guy in the bucket that was over 100 ft above us.  It was swaging back and forth and looked tenuous at best.

"Follow the road, and when it bends through town, just stay with it."  The town was a half dozen old shops and stores, and about 20 houses.  Why such a big parish in all this corn I couldn't guess.

The road to Napoleon had a few more trees, and when I got there the town was a little bigger than I thought it would.  My reserve light was just about to start blinking when I found the Marathon station and filled the ST with hard to find 91.  It thanked me whole heartedly.

From Napoleon I went to SR 48 and followed it to Lawrenceburg, a busy little town on the banks of the Ohio River.  I'll be spending the rest of the day riding in the shadows of the river.

I was looking for a good place to eat, but really didn't put much effort into it.  I settled for a KFC grilled chicken sandwich.  At lunch I read the news off my Blackberry, and a few emails.  I also called my brother.  I was in the parking lot about to put my helmet on when my brother in law in DC called to confirm I was on schedule and would be arriving sometime tomorrow afternoon.  It was not a big deal because I have the codes to let myself in if no one is home.  

The weather was still gorgeous, and in fact it was down right warm.  I vented out the Roadcrafter and went to summer gloves.

When I was leaving town I over took a HD rider wearing this T shirt, "If you can read the this the ----- fell off the back."

I had to get ready for the run through Cincinnati, and after the fiasco in Louisville yesterday my confidence was shook.  I took U.S. 50 to the I-275 bypass and motored around the city to SR 125.  I didn't have any problems.

The first few miles of 125 were choked by urban sprawl, but I stuck it out and soon escaped into the rural countryside.  It was a workday so I pretty much had the highway to myself. 

I'm not sure but I think this is the Adams County Courthouse
West Union, Ohio.

The riding was good on 125 as I rode the Shawnee National Forest.  Leaves were at or near peaking.  I was happy about that.  I had feared I would be too early to see any real color and I was glad to see I had been wrong.  The road has several nice curves but nothing I'd call a challenge.

         Fall color was good along Ohio 125.

Often I caught the scents of burning leaves and wood as I threaded my way through the woods, but I never could find the source.  Burning leaves is a scent I always associate with fall.  When I was a youngster at Christ The King school in the 1st grade, a man, whose house backed up to the school property, was always burning leaves.  I could see him from our classroom windows, and everytime I smell leaves burning I remember being in Sr. Dolores' first grade class

               Another SR 125 scene.

SR 125 dead ended into U.S. 52 near Portsmouth.  I was right up next to the river now, but the scenery was not anything worth mentioning.

Getting through Portsmouth was painful.  Traffic, stop and go, populated by folks that just wanted to be left alone.  The city kind of depressed me with its row houses facing the river, and old mercantile buildings.  It is built between the hills and water so it is kind of long and narrow.

I stayed on 52 through Ironton, and then crossed back over the Ohio into Ashland, Kentucky, a very busy port on the river.  It seemed a more vibrant, colorful place then Portsmouth, but maybe it just looked that way because it was south of the Mason-Dixon.

         The Ohio River.  Ashland, Kentucky

My goal for today was a Motel 6 in Charleston, West Virginia, and I was closing in on it.  Not that I didn't want to camp, but I wanted to watch the Monday night game. I-64 was busy as I knocked down the last 40 miles or so.  I made it through rush hour in Huntington unscathed and went on to Charleston.  I arrived in the city by late afternoon.

From the highway I could see the price of the room was 47.99.  "Dang 50 bucks for a Motel 6 in Charleston?  Not today, lemme check my map for the nearest campground, I'll read about the game in the paper."  Not that I'm cheap or anything, but I am on fixed income.

At the next exit I found a con store parking lot and broke out the atlas.  I really hated digging that thing out couple times of day, but my routes are always complicated with many changes.  I cursed Garmin again.

After looking things over I saw Babcock State Park about 60 miles south on U.S. 60.  I had plenty of time to get there before dark.  I did not want to be on a hilly West Virginia backroad after the sun is gone.  I looked to where I needed to exit and moved on.

I messed up and took 60 north, and made it all the way to St. Albans before I realized my mistake.  "How did I go north when I needed to go south?"  My sense of direction has gone to pot, and I can't explain why, too much technology lately?  I corrected myself and had to work my way back through all the traffic to get south.  It was a costly error in terms of time and frustration.

Next thing I know I'm all balled up in downtown Charleston, trying to follow U.S. 60.  Not a lot of cars, just stop and go.  The route  makes a number of turns through the downtown area, with one ways and turn lanes to deal with.

I went by the state capital, it has a nice setting facing the river.  By the time I escaped the city it was almost dark.  I was going to have to ride the last 60 miles or so in total blackness.  Didn't really want to, but I'm confident in my ability as a Long Rider.  My reserve light was blinking so I found a Exxon con store in Belle.  They had 91, but it was pricey.

After filling the ST I went inside for a Moutain Dew to drink with my Cliff bar.  "I reckon this is going to be supper."  It was about 7pm and it was full on dark now.  One of the things about the fall ride, are the shorter days.  I can only cover about half the miles on the fall ride as my West Coast Tours in June.  Eastern backroads, and short daylight days are the main reason.  Out west I have those long run outs and 16 hours of daylight.

I called Debbie and my son and reported the situation.

U.S. 60 South was busy the first 20 miles or so.  I fell in a long line of cars as we made our way.  Several areas were under construction and it was sometimes tricky.  Riding at night exposes the rider to more risks.  You can't read the road surface as well, deer are next to impossible to see, and motorists have a harder time judging your position and speed.  I try to avoid it as much as I can on tour, but sometimes it cant' be helped.  I've been riding long enough to know you want to decrease your risks as much as you can.   I don't see any point in riding at night, if you have options.  And on top of all that my middle age eyes don't see things as well, and distant or small lights are fuzzy to me.

The night was dark and turned cool as I rode into the hills.  Traffic thinned out considerably, and I settled in around 55 mph.  I was glad to have the excellent lighting of the 1300 and the PIAAs.  Of all the things a guy can put on his bike, PIAA lights rank right up there with the brakes.  

At Gauley Bridge U.S. 60 and SR 16 merge for a 10 mile run through the hills.  I saw the signs, "hey if this is part of 16, I've been this way a time or two."  Not that I could remember anything about it, and it was too dark anyway if I could.  The road and sides were pitch black, and now I was deep in the woods.  The lights of the 1300 lit up the forests when I came by.  The curves came at me and I kept just enough speed to lean.  I could only see the road surface as far as my lights and sometimes that wasn't far  because the road bent and twisted so much.  Working the clutch,  brakes and gear box on the downhills and uphills took deep concentration.  At any moment I feared a deer ambushing me, or at this time of night, a drunk driver over the line in one of the many curves.

The occasional north bound car would temporarily blind me at the worst possible time in some hard curve, so I kept my speed way down.

I was just north of Ansted when I came by a local motel, I went by it but after thinking it over when back to it.  The motel had about 15 one floor rooms with the office at the end.  No cars were in the lot.  It looked clean enough and if the price was right I'd take a shot, andwatch the ballgame.

No one was in the office when I stepped in.  A table lamp lit up the room with a yellow glow.  Books, papers, and magazines were piled up on tables and bookshelves.  A white haired lady about my age came out of the rear-

"Can I help you?"

"yeah how much is it?"

"39.95"  Why they do this I don't know, but everyone does it.  Who cares about a nickel?  Just make it 40, but we all know 39,95 doesn't sound as bad.  Motels and gas are the worst offenders at this kind of marketing.

"I'll give ya 25 cash."  You would have thought I just said something bad about her mother.  She got all pissed off and opened the front door.  

"Well you have a good night," and practically shoved me out the door.

"look here, I can sleep for 10 or free just down the road, I just wanted to watch the ballgame."

"well then that's what you need to do."  Dang was she pissed.

I got back on the 1300 and fired it up.  "well that was interesting."

I continued on south in the darkness, and the night was beginning to take on a eerie tone.  The more I thought about it the more I remembered that movie where that lady tied up that guy and abused him.  I can't remember the name of it but it starred James Caan.  As I was riding along I thought,  "That lady back there reminded me of her, probably a good thing I was sent packing, the Lord always seems to be watching over me."

A sign on on the road mentioned the nearby New River Gorge Bridge would be closed on Bridge Day, I think the date is Oct 19?  That really is a nice bridge on U.S. 19.

The last 10 miles felt really long, but at last I made it to SR 41 and turned off for the park.  I was glad to have this dark and scary ride in the books.

It was 9pm and the rangers were long gone.  I stopped to register, but only had a couple of 20s, and nobody to make change.  I filled out my paperwork and left my address to send a bill, to let them know I wasn't trying to get out of paying the 10 dollar camping fee.  I've had to do this a number of times and yet to get a bill.

I rode 458 miles this day.

It has been my experience West Virginia has good parks and Babcock was no exception.  The campground was almost empty except for 1 tent and 2 RVs,  I picked a site on the other side of the area from them.  It was a dark, quiet site.  Just the way I like it.

Once again I set up my tent in the dark, but this time had just a little more difficulty.  I got out of my riding gear, put some Plexus on the windshield,  then gathered my stuff and headed for the showers.  This time I  charged my phone in the bathhouse while I was in the shower.

The woods had a sweet smell to them as I was walking back to the tent.  It was nice.

All cleaned up I got in my tent and went to bed.  I was just about a sleep when a dog, sniffing around my table startled me, at first I feared it might be a bear, but  when I realized it was just a dog, I went on to sleep.

Next- a great ride through West Virginia and the Skyline Drive to DC