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 I slept well last night except some kind of animal woke me sometime during the night. I was asleep when I heard something sniffing around my tent and table. At first it startled me, but once I realized it was not a bear, but some kind of small animal like a dog or raccoon, I dismissed it and went back to sleep. Again I was up before morning sun, but remained in my sleeping bag for first light. I dozed off and on for another 45 minutes. That is such a good feeling, not to rush out of bed, but to just kind of relax, listen to the sounds of the woods, and enjoy the fresh air. Eventually dawn started breaking so I got moving. My ride today will be about 350 miles, not all that many, but given the fact about 250 of it will be in the these hills and in the Shenandoah, a significant ride. If I was going to make it to DC before dark, I couldn't lounge around. It has been my experience, after many trips through West Virginia, this ride will take all day. I was breaking down my tent when a gentleman, not much older than me, was out for his morning walk and stopped to chat. He pointed out his RV on the other side of the woods. "That's us over there." He was from Charlotte, North Carolina. We didn't exchange names, but he rode a GL, they pulled it with his RV most of the time. He took a early buyout from Dupont a few years ago. He was of Asian descent, possibly Hawaii, he was in shape and looked younger than his years. He chatted with me while I continued to breakdown my tent- "So how long have your been riding the country?" "About 8 years" "Where all have you been?" "There's nothing left for me to see of any significance" "that must be a good feeling" "It is, because no matter what happens in the years to come, I can be content, everything I'm doing now is just extra, I've already accomplished everything I ever dreamed off when it comes to motorcycles and seeing places. But there's always a road to ride somewhere." "you're a lucky guy, not many can say that" "I know I'm blessed, I thank Him everyday." The morning air was cool, and where the man stood leaves were drifting down on his head. He said his wife had a bad back, that was why they trailered the GL so much. We finished our conversation and I picked up the pace loading the ST. He slowed me down and I was a little behind, but that was ok. I had a signal and called home. "Yeah, I'm about to idle up the ST, going to a gorgeous day in the hills, can't wait to get started." "You be careful today ok?" "Don't worry, I'll call ya at lunch k?" "alright." I peeled yesterday's note from my arm sleeve, exposing the ride for today. "Kind of low tech, but reliable." Where I'll miss the GPS today is the ability to see what the road looks like ahead. A nice advantage in the twisty, curvy roads of West Virginia. I was on the road at 7:30am, and riding out SR 41. A high mist seeped through the trees and water droplets formed on the ST's windscreen. Temps were already in the high 50s. "This is the warmest fall ride I've ever been on." Not that I was complaining. I've had some chilly fall days, but that's part of the allure of the fall ride. Because of my little midnight ride last night, I was 60 miles to the good of where I planned to start today's ride. I've ridden all the major north-south roads of West Virginia end to end. Routes such as U.S. highways 219 and 220 and state routes 16, and 20, but not ridden a east-west ride for any length. "Going to change that today." I targeted SR 39 a few months ago on a hunch it would be a good ride. I was right. I picked up the route at a place called Mt. Nebo. The ride from the campground to here was pleasant, I watched a bright morning sun burn off the mist. Not much traffic but I did pass a log truck with the worst tires of all time.
Not very complicated today, all I had to do was follow 39 all the way to Virginia. Out of Mt. Nebo the route went into Monongahela National Forest, a sprawling National Preserve of thick forest land. Very quickly the road turned into a slalom run. I learned long ago to be ever vigilant on these hilly roads. The highway department consistently keeps the shoulders built up, especially in right hand curves where log and coal trucks nip the shoulder, slinging gravel all over the road. A long rider has to constantly read the surface or he'll find himself on the ground. Riding these hills takes concentration, patience, and wisdom. You can't let your mind wonder or you might find yourself in a tough curve too fast. Highway 39 begged me to learn hard, but the trash on the road was just too intimidating. The road is canopied by thick, tall trees. I was passing through patches of dark shadow and bright sun, my eyes constantly assailed by the extremes, it took a few seconds to refocus when I came out of the shadows, and that can be all it takes to misread the surface and wind up on the tarmac.
The surface of 39 is not bad, but not as good as some of the other roads I've been on in this state. For the life of me I don't know how a pick up truck passed me. I didn't even know he was back there, that has never happened before. I was riding conservatively but doing about 50 mph.
It was hard to pick the proper line in a few curves, and I didn't like being so close to the yellow line in blind curves, but there was too much gravel in the right handers to use the right track. I stopped for pictures after leaning the ST all over the place. The last 2 times I've been in these hills I was on the RT. It was a different ride on the Honda. The 1300 takes a little more planning to lean hard, but is dead stable once you pick the line. It is a very good handling touring bike.
Often I could see leaves sifting down from the trees ahead and the ST parted them when I came through, swirling them everywhere in the wake behind me. "Mornings like this why I love the fall ride so much," I said to myself, as I rode on to Marlington. SR 39 came to U.S. 219 and for a brief time the 2 roads merged. I'd forgotten how good 219 is, as I heeled the ST over in some fine curves, the only bad part I was stuck behind a forestry truck much of the way. Marlington is a place I have a history with. Back in the 80s, before I was a long rider, I wore many hats. One of them was that of a skier. For a southern boy I was pretty good. I made annual ski trips with some boys from the fire department to Snoshoe Ski Resort, just up the road from here. I saw the motel we use to stay at when I came into town. It looked closed down. That seems so long ago now, but in a way it doesn't. It was a different life back then. I recall driving a loaded down van over the hills of 219 and thinking, "I bet a motorcycle would be fun on this road." I had no idea just how much. I was feeling kind of reflective when I stopped for gas and a butt break at the con store where 39 splits of for Virginia from U.S. 219, it is located right in the city. It was busy the morning I was there. I filled the ST with 3.79 high grade, made a sandwich, bought a Mountain Dew, and found a booth by the window to soak things in. I went online and read the news off the Blackberry, checked the radar map and called Chris. He couldn't talk because he was about to go in a meeting. I remember those. Meetings- in the fire department we use to have meetings on meetings. It seemed like I was always in one. Got to meet on this, talk about that, etc. I miss the fire department, but not all those meetings. A lady came in with a white helmet on, asked for a USA Today (was none) and left. I didn't see what she was riding. I hung out in Marlington for 30 minutes. "Better get goin." I got up for the door and told the clerk on the way out. "You have a good day m'am." "You to." It was that kind of day, a day you just wanted to spread the fun around as best you could. Marlington is a hub for the area, if you can call any city in these hills such a thing. Like most towns in the state it is located in a valley with some kind of creek running through it. The city is old looking, but busy. A Chevy dealer sits almost in the middle of town, new cars all but sitting on the road. These are tough times for such dealers and all the cars had messages on the windshields to come in and make a deal. On the outskirts of town I caught a glimpse of a colorful tree with a barn and took a pic.
SR 39 took me out of the town and it was more of the same. No traffic to speak off just lots of good riding. The sky was crystal blue and the air warm. It was nice. I had just crossed into Virginia and was snaking my way down a high mountain to Goshen and Warm Springs. Working the clutch and gearbox I was able to stay off the brakes for the most part. I find going downhill in the twisties just a little more difficult. A Virginia State Trooper, light bar flashing appeared on the uphill, he had a hand out the window for me to stop. "What the heck? I know he can't be busting ME, I just got here, not had time to do anything wrong. Where does he want me to go? There is NO shoulder to my right, just mountain." When he saw I was not immediately stopping he flicked his arm faster as if to say, "stop right NOW!" So I did. He pulled next to me. "You're gonna need to get off the road, wide load coming up the mountain." "But I don't need much room" "NO, you don't understand, YOU need to get OFF the road." "well ok" "just ahead you're gonna see a white SUV in a driveway, go there. When you see what's coming you'll understand." I found the SUV about half mile later and pulled in. Two couples were in the car. They were from Chicago but use to live in the farm house down the drive, which is now a bed and breakfast. They don't know the current owners, and didn't know it was a bed and breakfast till they got here. They thought it was kind of neat they just paid money to spend the night in their old house. "Well how'd that feel?" A 30ish lady, with dark roots showing on her blond locks said- "I dunno, it was kinda strange." She was from this area, but her husband was from Chicago. They married a few years ago and he took her to Illinois. "so how's that working for ya m'am" "it's the most awfullest thing ever was" "dang I bet" "I'm tryin to get him to come back here" "really" "yeah, I shoulda knew better than to marry a yankee." I did like the Sopranos when somebody suddenly said something stunning. "OOH!" Then the man said in a thick city accent. "You wanna take her with you?" Half kidding. "Don't reckon I better do that" "well then let me ride outta here with YOU" We had a long wait, almost 30 minutes. It was extremely interesting. Funny how someone would open up to a complete stranger. The other lady pulled on my arm to the other side of the SUV. "look here, you have NO idea what its been like the last 2 days. Been fighting like cats and dogs." Talk about free entertainment, I was almost disappointed when the wide load finally came into view. In fact it was TWO. They were crawling up the mountain with a police and company escort. It was a huge and long thing. The trailer was so long it had a tillerman in the back. Now I see why the troopers swept me off the mountain. There was no room for me if I met him, and that goes for anywhere on the mountain, curve or straight.
One of the guys at the turnout said they were moving something up the mountain to a dam. It looked like a turbine. "Well I'm sure you folks will work this thing out" "will you think about me while you're down in Alabama and I'm stuck in Chicago?" "if it makes you feel better, yes" I looked over to the husband, "look, I dunno much, but if you wanna make this work, you better bring her back south. You should know you can't take a Southern girl to Chicago." "I'm finding that out." Back on the road the ride was good all the way to Warm Springs and then Goshen, where I left SR 39 for SR 42 and a more northerly tack to Harrisonburg. SR 42 was not 39, it was just a road to get somewhere.
I was growing tired of 42 and the long line of cars I was stuck behind. So when I saw the sign for I-81 at Staunton I took it, instead of going into Harrisonburg.
On my way to the interstate I saw a Five Guys Hamburger diner and stopped for lunch. Been awhile since I had a good hamburger, and we don't have these back home. I don't eat much red meat, but every once in a while, YES. I just throw caution to the wind and dive out. Five makes the best fast food hamburgers. Good stuff, you just can't go there very often. The manager was a hard working Mexican lad that took his job very seriously. The store was neat, the service quick and polite, and the food good. I don't mind anyone coming to this country if he does it right, you could tell this joker was glad to be here. He was wiping tables when I told him, "Hey amigo, you do a good job here." "Gracias." I called Debbie like I promised, and sent my son a text. He sent back he was wide open in the office today. I called David and advised I should be there around 5. He said Michael had a ballgame and if they weren't there just come on to the field. Full as a tick I figured I better get back on the road. The ride down U.S. 33 seemed like it took a long time, but I finally made it to the gate, paid my 10 dollar fee and proceeded to get on the Skyline Drive. Not been here since Uncle Phil back in 2001. That trip we camped just south of Front Royal and rode the Skyline all the way down to the Blue Ridge. It was cloudy and foggy that day, nothing like today. I like the Skyline Drive ok, but the Blue Ridge Parkway better. They are two different kind of roads. The Parkway seems to flow more with better curves. The Skyline rides the crest of the mountains and offers excellent views of the Shenandoah Valley. One of the prettiest names in the country for a place. It was in this Valley where most of the Civil War was fought. Stonewall's valley campaign is still talked about.
The speed limit is something like 35 mph, and I kept to it. I was only on the road about 30 miles, I just wanted to get a taste of it, and then ride on to my destination of Lorton, Virginia. I was anxious to see my niece.
I left the Skyline at U.S. 211 and came down out of the hills. A highway I knew nothing about. What a great road. A sign at the beginning says the road has a lot of motorcycle accidents. "Well that's encouraging." I was flying down the highway and for the first time this tour got in some high speed sweepers, that sometimes bent really hard. "Man, this road is good," as I focused on the road ahead and set up for the next turn. The fun lasted about 8 miles. I had already dismounted my videocam, and missed taking some excellent action footage.
My notes told me to turn on U.S. 522 and then CR 647, I did that, and from there things deteriorated rather quickly. I should've guessed something was up when I had trouble finding 647, but I did find it. In the software it looked simple enough, go 647 to I-66 and then take the Fairfax County Expressway to SR 123. But none of that happened. The local road was a nice ride past horse farms and homes, but when it crossed another local road I went the wrong way. In the atlas the crossroads look 45 degree. By looking at the map I needed to go straight, but in the real world north meant a left turn at this crossroad, and straight meant going east. There were no signs at the intersection. I went east, and next thing I know I'm back on U.S. 211. "Dam! What just happened?" I got out my map and noted where I was. I cursed Garmin. I decided to forget what I wanted to do, and just get to Lorton. "This means I gotta go through Warrenton," and that was not fun. School was getting out and it was slow going as I followed U.S. 29. Finally I made it to I-66, 45 minutes after the snafu. I was kind of aggravated but what the heck. I got on 66 anticipating a short ride to my exit; the Fairfax County Expressway, but that didn't happen either. I never saw a exit sign for Fairfax County Expressway or 7100. Rush hour was building out of DC and as I motored east I looked over in the west bound mess and said, "Glad I ain't over there." The reserve light went on about this time. When I saw the Arlington exit signs I knew something was wrong. This was my first time coming into David's from the south, I usually leave his house the other way. I knew I had to exit and get back the other way. Easier said then done. Most exits here have no quick access to getting back the opposite direction. I managed to find one, but it entailed a couple roads to get back going west. I stopped to check the map for what I thought would be the right exit, went through a neighborhood, got stuck at a stop sign for 10 minutes waiting for a opening, and finally got back to 66. It was terrible. Back on 66 I was now in heavy commuter traffic, and stuck with all those guys I was making fun of earlier. Even the HOV lane was a parking lot. Reason? Chain reaction bumper wreck had everybody rubber necking, causing a long back up. "How do these people do this everyday?" Was my thought. The exit I needed was marked SR 123, no wonder I missed it. It took me almost an hour to get back to the exit after passing it coming in. I cursed Garmin again. I took the 123 exit and promptly went north instead of south and rode almost all the way back into the city before realizing it. It was the same story, parking lot going south. Only this time no expressway, besides traffic, I'm going to have red lights, lots of them. It was almost dark. "Not going to make the ballgame, I just want to get there by midnight." Dejectedly I flipped around to run the 6 or 7 miles back to I-66. It was horrible. Lights at every corner slowed the already slow moving 3 lines of cars out of the city. In one instance it took almost 30 minutes to travel 7 blocks or so. The fan on the ST kept kicking on and off, and my clutch hand was growing weary. I don't why I was making these rookie mistakes that was costing me so much time and frustration. I had the atlas out so many times I wore the the lid off my pannier. I even messed up after just reading the map. I wondered if I had become so dependent on my toys that I lost one of Long Riding's most important elements; instinct. Every good Long Rider has it. It keeps him safe, warm, and dry. Years and miles on the road hone skills at reading weather, traffic patterns, direction, riding technique, and how to stay safe on and off the bike. For 100s of thousands of miles, I've never fallen off my bike, or been in what I call a tight situation, and now I can't tell if I'm going north or south? I chalked it up to no cross country ride this summer. "I'm a little out of practice is all, it'll get better." I was behind a dark SUV when I noticed my headlights on the rear panel. "Dang one of my low beams is out." I still had both high beams, and the PIAA's. "I'm off the road tomorrow, I'll see about tracking one down then." The long fight back to I-66 was almost over. This is how tough it was- A lady walking south on the shoulder passed me, and by the time I broke free and caught her she was 2 miles ahead of me. Operating on 1 low beam and the PIAAs I went under I-66 and went south. I could cut this portion of 123 off by taking the Fairfax County Expressway, but there were no signs, and I just didn't feel like wandering everywhere looking for it, even though it was close by, so I stayed with the sure thing. I knew Silverbrook Road crossed 123 all I had to do was ride it out. I was far into reserve, miles to empty was showing 9. A Exxon con store near George Mason University came into view and I went in for a fill up. The 91 was bagged off. "Well I'll have a full tank to start with Thursday morning." I took in over 6 gallons for about 25 dollars. I had to fill up with 87. My plan is to take tomorrow off from riding, wash a few clothes, track down a low beam, eat a Chinese buffet, and do some web site maintenance. At last the Silverbrook Road sign came into view, I pushed flasher left and made my way down to my in law's house. It was dark, and the neighborhood's Halloween decorations were shining brightly in the night. I wheeled in the empty driveway. "David still at the ballpark, Cathy not home from work yet." I have the code to the 2 car garage, and raised the door. I put the ST in the usual spot for when I'm in town and went in to the empty house. I rode 368 miles today. A few minutes later my phone lit up. It was my sister in law. "You made it in? Yeah baby I just got here." "YEAH!" "I'm not that good." "Yeah but Meagan will be glad to see you, she should be there in a minute, and I'll be there in about 20, make yourself at home." "Don't I always?" I called Debbie and Chris and caught up on the news back home. At last I'd be able to charge my phone all night. A few minutes later Meagn came running in after being dropped from dance. "Uncle Guy!, Uncle Guy!" "HEY BAbeeee!" "How long you staying? Check me outta school tomorrow, take me to dance, and then McDonalds." The lady that dropped her off came in to check things. "I thought she was going to jump out of the car when she saw your motorcycle in the garage." "I know I've been coming to see her every fall for the last 8 years." When things calmed down I asked her if she had any homework, "yessssss," "well better get started on it, your momma will be here soon." Fifteen minutes later my sister in law and arrived. "Has she been talking your ears off?" "Yeah but that's a good thing. She's grown so much since Christmas, she's 11 going on 15." "Everytime she gets mad with us she says she's going to live with Uncle Guy and Aunt Debbie." "Well you know she can, and if she did I'd hang up my long riding helmet." "I don't ever see that happening." About a hour later David came in with my nephew and we started the greetings all over again. Supper was a roast beef sandwich, about all I could handle after the huge lunch. I took a nice shower, and came down stairs for a little socializing, but I grew sleepy rather quickly. I didn't even watch TV, something I enjoy after camping out. "I'm going to bed folks, see y'all in the morning. " The bed felt good and sleep came quick. Next-down day in DC.
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