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 9 I have to confess, I take pour notes when riding in groups, or in social atmospheres such as motorcycle campgrounds. I focus less on me, and turn my thoughts to group interaction. As a result, I don't have many of the details of our rides and where we went. I just followed the bikes in front, and thought very little of route numbers. A Long Rider, alone on the road, has time to make notes and to journal, retreating to my tent to write while the group is around the camp fire, or at the Sagebrush, is not something I can do. I want to be with my friends, and not a social outcast. The morning was frosty when I poked my head out of the tent. I stayed in my sleeping bag as long as I could. I could see my breath, a sure sign it was cold outside. I was a little chilled in my bag, I don't sleep well unless I am toasty warm, and last night fell short of that. The guys were up, even Ron Epperly. Ron is the standard for sleeping in. If he is up before YOU, then you will be the LAST guy out of bed. I am much more layed back on my fall tour, then my western summer rides. The vast distances that must be traveled going out there motivates me to get out early and put 300 miles down before lunch. Our group loaded out. It included Peter Menard, Chris Knight, Uncle Phil, Ron Epperly, and myself. Gene Fabzinger suggested we take a ride over to South Carolina on SR 28. After a week of long days and twisty roads, I was glad we were only doing 100 miles or so. Today is just a ride to shake the kinks out, and to rest. We plan to go out late, and come back early, so this will do nicely. We started the morning off with a HUGE breakfast at a cafe north of the campground. My first time there. Ron had 2 sausage biscuits that looked like hamburgers. I had 2 pancakes and ham. We ate well and had a good time, then got on the road. We gassed at the Exxon station next to the cafe. We left the cafe seeking SR 28. The terrain was typical for this area. Hilly and curvy. The ST felt much more responsive void of gear. I can lean with more authority, and hold lines much tighter. Still, I stayed in the rear of the group. When I ride near the front I have a tendency to ride too fast. Much less pressure riding in the back. Traffic was spotty. Some areas were bogged down, other times we sailed free. The highway was a corkscrew. We crossed the Parkway and made our way into South Carolina. I tried to keep the bike in front of me in sight, but the tight curves and lack of straights made it impossible. Many of the curves were blind, meaning you only see a short distance into it. Leaves were turning and pockets floated down out of the trees, littering the road ahead of me. Our bikes would rustle them when we shot by. We took a break near Table Rock State Park. We left the bikes and walked out over the rocks to get a better view of the land. The valleys down below us made a good photo op, and it felt good to stretch our legs.
Back near the bikes, Peter made a motion and said, "LISTEN." After calming down, I could hear it. The unmistakable exhaust note of crotch rocket with custom exhaust. I could hear it echoing off the hills. I ran for my camera but it was too late, he shot around the tough curve near the turn out leaning like crazy. He had on leathers and race replica helmet. Just as quick he was gone, and moving down the hill. Our group loaded back up, and headed to the campground. The ride back was routine, but in reality no ride in this part of the country is routine. So many good roads, each one is special. I wish I could remember some of the roads, but like I said, I was just following.
The campground was filling up nicely when we returned. A steady stream of bikes, were coming in for the last good weekend of the riding season. We spent the afternoon under the pavilion, chatting and telling war stories. I met BBS members Alex Schmitt and Audray Hubble. Alex was a no nonsense kind of guy that spoke in a deliberate tone of voice, that characterizes his hometown of Albany, New York. "dang brother I was just in Albany" Audray was from Guntersville, Alabama. A nice gentleman with friendly eyes and a like demeanor. He rode in with his wife on pillion. A Kawasaki cruiser rider asked to join us, and being the social butterflies we are said, "sure." It was cloudy and cool. Where did the sun go? Supper was soon going to be served, but we felt it was too cool to eat in the open. The campground has ok food but I prefer something from town most of the time. After a brief discussion it was decided the Juke Box Junction needed our attention. What would a ride in the Blue Ridge be with a burger from the Junction? I geared up quickly. When it comes to food you better not be last around here. A VFR rider came over to me. "Where y'all going?" "Down to the Juke Box Junction, and I can't be late or those boys will leave me." The ride down to the Junction was a good one. We parked out front and walked in like we owned the place. They gave us a long table in the back. We ate, laughed, and made fun of each other. I come to the Blue Ridge each fall for occasions just like this one. I look back on times like these planning future trips. After supper we began discussing the next day's ride. We plan on doing 300 miles, taking in the areas best roads. It has been my experience, that ST riders and sport touring riders in general look at miles much differently than others. We talk about 300 miles as it were a ride down the street. I suggested a early start. If we go to breakfast at 7 it will be almost 9 before we even start. "Lets be on the Parkway at 7am, beat the RVs out, and be sitting in Cherokee by 8. We can eat breakfast there." I don't mind getting up at 630am to go ride. A quiet ride followed back to the campground. It was getting dark and the sky looked like it might rain. I pulled the ST next to my tent and secured my stuff. Then I went to the office and rented a extra blanket for a dollar. I wasn't going to get cold tonight. I was strolling the paths admiring the bikes and stopped to look at Gene's 1300. "wanna take it for a ride?" "lemme get my helmet' It was my first chance at riding that dream machine. I fired it up and took out in the hills for a 25 mile ride. Without giving a road test report, let me say this. The 1300 does everything better than the 1100. It felt lighter, more balanced, and she tracked and leaned much faster than my 1100. The shorter wheel base made a lot of difference. The front required much less effort to put on a line, and once on a line it was no problem to hold. My 1100 has tendency to drift because of its height. I played with the windshield, bringing it down low when I was leaning, and on the open straight across the valley near the junction, I put her on 100mph and brought the windshield up. At that speed I felt like I could get off and jog. It felt nowhere close to 100mph. I was in a virtual biosphere of quiet and calm. After 90k miles on the what I thought was a quiet bike, I now know what total calm is. Because of my height and favored seating position, I miss the buffeting most riders complain about on the 1100. It also has lots of lights and do dads, I like that. I was not on the bike long enough to comment on long term comfort. If I had my gloves I might have never returned. The brief ride convinced me the upgrade was worth it. It is not a quantum leap over the 1100, but still a significant one. More than likely the 1300 will be in my garage by next summer. I should have never ridden the bike, because now it makes my 1100 seem primitive, and I hate it when that happens. I might even put a deposit on a 04 when I get back to Bama. All things are subjective. Uncle commented it didn't feel much different to him. Go figure, just the difference in folks I brought the bike back to Gene and said 'THANKS", in a tone that a joker uses when he just bought insurance from a fast talking agent, that he knew he didn't really need. The crowd was gathering around the campfire so I went over and joined in. I met Mike and Tari from New Jersey. A Yamaha Venture couple on vacation. Really nice folks. They told me they camped on Mount Cheaha. Heck, I ain't even done that. Made me feel like a rookie. I'm still pissed at the jokers that took the tub thing out and dug this big pit. The old tub thing was like a wood stove, just a few logs heated up the area. It was getting late so I went for a shower. When I finished I hung around the fire a few more minutes. It was going to be a early start in the morning, and I was getting sleepy so went to the tent. I tried to watch a little TV, but too sleepy. My makeshift pillow is not working out, but I can stand it one more night. The extra blanket was just the thing, I was warm as toast in the cold air. Looking forward to a big ride in the morning. Next: Glorious morning on the Blue Ridge Parkway. A rider goes down in our group and seriously hurt. A tough day.
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finished the day with a pleasant 122 miles. It was good riding.
