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 5 The alarm sounded on cue and my eyes popped open not believing what time it was. My senses told me it was 4:30 am, but here in this abandoned resort town it was 5:30. The ferry departs Cedar Island at 7am and I have a 50 mile ride in front of me just to get there. It pained me last night when I had to set my alarm for 5:30am, and then set the clock AHEAD one hour. Ugh. The things I do to be a Long Rider. The sink was hard to find but I needed to wash my face and brush my hair. I did most of my packing last night so I was loaded up and moving out in 15 minutes. The longer I lingered in Morehead, the more I felt hopeless, so packing went very quick. I HAD to get OUT of here. I fired the 13 up, and let it idle to operating temp, once there the fuel injection automatically throttles the V4 back to 1500 rpm. The 13 is the first fuel injection bike I've ever owned, it seemed odd not to have a choke. I was worried about disturbing the other rooms who were still slumbering. I made up my mind if some joker jerked a door open and went off on me, I'd just shout, "get ya butt back in bed and be glad this ain't a Harley with straight pipes." When the 13 reached operating temp I mounted up and eased out onto the dark and deserted streets of this city from a Stephen King novel. I had on my new red, white and black sport leather gloves. They made me look really fast in conjunction with my Arai race replica. The gloves are great, but above 75 they are too warm, but so far, that hasn't been a problem on this trip. The air temp on the 13 read 54 degrees. U.S. 70 ferried me across the channel bridge into the still sleeping town of Beaufort. Parked vehicles on the street kept me alert, and the porch lights of the white frame houses illuminated wooden porches with swings blowing in the wind. Before long I was away from the lights of civilization and riding north. The ocean was located on my right, but it was too dark for me to see much. The night was pitch black, and this was my first chance to see how good the stock lighting on the 13 is. I can report back the bike has excellent lights. The dual headlights and refractors lit up the night. The beams penetrated deep into the blackness, lighting marshes and bushes. The stock lights on my 1300 are better than the H4, and PIAA 1700 equipped 1100. I was very impressed. This bike seems to have all the small things that make a good touring bike, except for the absent bungee snaps. Because the road was unknown to me, and my fear of deer, I kept the 13 a sedate 55 mph. I didn't know if marsh and wetlands were deer territory, so I rode like it was. Passing through the fishing villages the powerful lights of the 13 lit up the interior of the cottages. Many times US 70 would bend 3 or 4 times through the hamlets as the highway had to follow the shoreline. A few houses were located right in the apexes of such curves and they caught the full brunt of the twin halogen bulbs. It was so bright on a few of them I thought I was going to burn the paint off the trim. It was a quiet, thoughtful ride in the dark. I passed the time thinking about the things a guy only thinks of when on a solitary ride. Surprisingly, the miles went quickly, and before I knew it I was at the northern tip of the peninsula. It was 6:30 am when I paid the attendant my 10 dollar ferry fee. When I entered the area a gentleman directed me to the queue line. A few cars were ahead of me, so I set the stand and walked around. In the on deck line I met a middle aged couple from Ontario, they were on their way back north after a few days in Charleston. They were driving a green mini van. We basically had just covered the same ground, but they spent the night in Cedar Island at the local motel. They highly recommended the place. I will keep that in mind next time I come through here. The sky began to lighten as the sun rose up out of the Atlantic. The sunrise was one of the best of my career.
A few minutes before 7 we were herded onto the ferry. I took the 13 to the left (port?) because of the tilt, and parked behind a car. There were no tie downs, but the slope of the deck would make it really hard for the 13 to take a fall. If the water got that choppy I'd be sure to get back down to stand by it.
Before I fell asleep I saw a 60ish man in khaki pants and loafers, at a table next to me, underling in some book like crazy. He must have a big test coming up. Dawn exposed a gray, cloudy, and of course, windy day. I don't remember much after that because I fell asleep and snoozed till we were 30 minutes from docking. When I woke up I checked my cell phone and was surprised to see I had a good signal, but no messages. The State of North Carolina runs the ferry system and does a pretty good job. Fares are reasonable and the boats clean and orderly, and unlike the Cat in Bar Harbor, the crew was helpful. I saw a steward cleaning the area, and spoke to him. They work 7 on 7 off. On his off days he has his own fishing boat back on Cedar Island. He went on to say the Outer Banks have really been hammered by hurricanes the last few years and the islands were a mess. The ferry was getting close to docking so I
went down to the deck and took some The man that was underlining in the book spoke to me as I was putting my camera away. I asked him- "So why all that underlining in that book?" "I was crossing off the National Parks I'd been to with those in my stamp book. It is my goal to visit all of them, and I'm more than halfway. I was widowed a few years ago, and I needed something to do. That's my ride over there," as he pointed to a Nissan truck, with Texas plates. Are all the Long Riders on THIS boat? I was cautious riding the 13 off the boat. I know steel is slippery when wet, and thats all the ramps and decks were. Checkerboard to be exact. Hard to get lost in Oracoke, there is only one highway- SR 12. I took it north and saw what the steward was talking about when he said hurricanes. Many places were showing damage of recent storms and construction was ongoing. It is cool and windy, and the gray skies are depressing. Not much was going on in Oracoke when I came through. SR 12 is as wide as the island. A Long Rider can see water on both sides riding this road. It was neat. The sand is not like the sugar white of Destin, it is yellow and dark looking, and the water looked cold.
I passed the guy in the MG as I made my way to the next ferry. A short ferry ride connects Hatteras, with Oracoke. It is free and a 30 minute shuffle over. I was annoyed because I had just settled in when I had to stop. A 20 minute wait greeted me, so I threw rocks at seagulls to pass the time. I didn't want one to drop something on the 13, but they kept hovering over me, despite my best efforts. When the ferry docked I saw 2 Harleys and a Gold Wing 1800 roll off and proceed south bound. The boat for this connection is smaller than Cedar Island's. By now I'm getting the hang of ferry loading and wheel the 13 up and on the deck. A crewman advised the water was a little choppy and it would be a good idea to stand close to the 13. That proved to be good advice, because a short while later, the boat tilted and I felt the 13 come off the stand a few times, and I had to muscle it back down. A middle age couple started a conversation with me, and the lady told me I had a beautiful motorcycle. That is 3 unsolicited comments on the 1300 this trip. At last the water tower for Hatteras came into view, and I prepared to disembark. I was tired of ferries and ready to put down some miles. I had a long way to go today, and I the 13 was anxious to show me what it could do. Hatteras was windy and quiet when I passed through. The seafood restaurants were closed, and the motels displayed vacancy signs, as if begging someone to check in. In a few miles I was out of the resort, and booking north through the sand dunes. This was a unusual ride. It felt odd to have the ocean surrounding me on both sides. The narrow strip of seashore was not much wider the SR 12. How brutal it must be here when a hurricane washes in. The intensity of Atlantic hurricanes as a rule are not as powerful as Gulf hurricanes, but more frequent. The storms lose force as they move north over the cold Atlantic waters, but over the steam bath like water of the Gulf they grow more fierce. There are no condos, mega marts or any other development on the National Seashore, and I liked that. Traffic was low and I had the highway to myself for the most part. It was a fun ride. I stopped for a picture of the famous Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. Several tourists were walking among the dunes, the wind snapping their coats and hair.
Kill Devils Hill and Kitty Hawk were my next objectives, they were 60 miles north of my present location. It was a good ride along the Outer Banks. The coastline of North Carolina puts you right up and personal with the water. Traveling north the dark gray skies dissipated, and a bright clear sky greeted me in Nags Head. The sun was out and it brought the temp from the mid 50s to the mid 60s but the wind was still blowing. I'd never seen the wind so consistent as it has been on this tour. One of the side benefits of this tour, was that it reduced my hay fever suffering. A bad pollen season is in town in Alabama, but the shoreline is absent of grass and trees, and I could breathe better. It had been a busy morning so it was a welcome break when I reached the mega mart at Nags Head and bought a snack. I was sitting in the grass when I saw a joker on a long bicycle pull in. He had a sign on the back, " Bicycle Nomad." I went to speak with him and found out this has been his lifestyle for the last 14 years.
His bike trailer was equipped with solar panels to power his GPS and satellite radio. And y'all thought I liked my toys. After the solitude of a early morning run over the Outer Banks, the bustle of Nags Head seemed even more pointed. The wind blew traffic lights and flapped signs, and a couple of times it made me shift feet when stopped. A few miles after I left the Bicycle Nomad I pulled into the Wright Brothers Memorial at Kitty Hawk. It was fresh off the President's visit a few months ago, in town to celebrate the 100th anniversary of the conquering of air. I paid my 3 bucks entrance fee and took the drive tour. A large visitor center is there but I didn't have time, I'm sure there are some fascinating items to be found inside. I took the 13 over the area where they flew the first plane. Markers noted the places where the flights ended. A large monument stands on Kill Devil's Hill in tribute to Orville and Wilbur. I took the long, steep walk to the top and sized up the area. What a great achievement this was. To say you were the first jokers to fly, must be awesome. I thought about how long it took man to do it, and from there how quick it took us to get to the moon. Amazing. We rode horses for thousands of years, and about 70 years after the internal combustion engine, were in space.
I can add another historical place visited in the Boutin catalog of American History. I took US 158 out of Kitty Hawk, went over the bridge, and returned to the mainland. I had hoped the wind would die down when I got back on land, but there was little difference. A local cafe that I've forgotten the name off stood on the highway north of the bridge, and I chose it for a late lunch. I went inside and took a table near the window and got out of the wind. A 30ish brunette took my order for chicken fingers and fries. She was attractive with a neat waitress uniform on. No ketchup stains anywhere. "so where ya from honey?" "Alabama" "What brings ya up this way?" "nothing really baby, just out seeing the country. Never been to the Outer Banks so thought I'd check it out" "you just rode up heah cause you ain't ever been heah?" "well yeah" "dang that ain't like the yankees that come down heah, they like to swim and lay on the beach, but their money shoah spends good." "and I bet you do a good job of separating them from it with that accent and charm" She laughed and went and for my sweet tea. After lunch I was back on the road. My reserve bar was flashing, and the computer switched from displaying mpg to miles to empty. The device said I had 60 miles to go, so I played it safe and turned into a Exxon station. I cruised through and saw it had no pay at the pump feature, so kept going. I'll gas up in the Tidewater area. I took SR 168 into Chesapeake, a toll road that connected me to I-64. I thought about my cousin who is but a few miles from this spot, but I did not have time to visit on this trip. I had to get to DC I debated about stopping to see my old neighborhood. I had just done that in 2002, (click here for that story) and didn't really feel the need to. But when I saw the sign for Military Highway the pull was too strong. I guess I am part salmon. I stopped at another Exxon station, this one WITH pay at the pump, and put 6 gallons in the 13. Traffic was bad near Janff Shopping Center, but I found my way. I was sad when I saw the Chinese place near the circle was closed and boarded up. The building resembles something out of China. When I was a small boy I wondered what they did in that place. It was always so mysterious to me, I had no idea it was a restaurant. I know for a fact that building is at least 40 years old. Seeing it brought back many memories of old times, to me it will always be the strange place with bright lights. I went down Sewells Point Road, past the
places that mean so much to me, and turned on Robin Hood Road. I parked
in front of my old house and took a few pictures. I did not feel the emotion
I felt in 2002. This time I had a more of a satisfaction about my life
since I left this place. I know how good it is, and looking from the
outside it appears to be much better than the folks I left behind here. "Excuse me sir, have you lived here long?" "yeah, 17 years." What a find this man is. I tell him my story, and that long ago I lived in the brick house on Robin Hood. "Oh yeah that's Mister Dennison's house. His son died (mentally handicapped) a few years ago, and soon after that his wife died. He's in a nursing home and has the house rented out." My old house is a rental?? I didn't like that. The man told me I had just missed an old friend, Kenny Gregory. Kenny was just next door checking on his widowed mother. I hated I missed him. I was good friends with Kenny's brother, Bill, but I still wanted to see how he was doing. We spoke a few more minutes and he brought me up to speed on a few others. I mentioned a couple that he didn't not know and let it go at that. We both agreed Tony's were still the best hot dogs, but the surrounding neighborhood was a war zone and not to go there. I hung around a few more minutes and decided I better get to DC.
Robin Hood Road has its own exit on I-64, and I followed it all the way till I found the interstate. I jumped on and barreled west toward Richmond. The wind was atrocious in downtown Norfolk on the way in to the Bay tunnel. It shoved and sailed me in all directions, and it made it feel much cooler than the indicated 61 degrees. The tunnel took me under the Bay and into Hampton. Traffic was fast and heavy. I had on my new gauntlet AGV sport gloves, and they looked really snazzy, only problem was I had an opening where I failed to tuck the Roadcrafter sleeve inside, and it was blowing cool air up my arm. It wasn't a big hole, and I tried to ignore it, but I finally got pissed off and took the Williamsburg exit to fix it. Before leaving this morning I checked the weather and saw the jet stream was somewhere around Richmond. Weather guessers said the wind was REALLY blowing on the north side. I was close to the area in question and began to brace up. A cruiser guy was getting a ticket from an unmarked trooper car about 10 miles west of Williamsburg. He didn't look none too pleased when I came by. I fought the wind all the way to Richmond, and on top of that, I was starting to get cold. I had lost 7-8 degrees of warmth since I left Norfolk, because I was passing through the jet stream. In Richmond I swung around on 295 and found I-95 north on the north side. The wind became really, really strong, and the sun went in dark clouds. Another few degrees dropped off the 13s air temp meter. Sometime I wonder if its a good thing to know how fast the temp is dropping. Every mile I went north the traffic got thicker and the temp colder. I was miserable. I was cold, no other way to put it. The temp was 42 degrees by the time I got to Fredericksburg, and no telling what the wind speed was, but it was gale like. I only had a sweatshirt under the Roadcrafter, because I didn't want to take the time to dismount and add the insulated liner. I was only 25 miles or so from Lorton and figured I could stick it out. The HOV lane appeared and like a idiot I took it. I had no idea inbound you have no access to the exits. You can't leave the HOV till you get to the beltway. Until today, I had only been outbound in the HOV. I watched helplessly as I rode by the Lorton exit and warmth. I was PISSED, I was going to spend more time in this weather then I needed to. It did not matter it was a Sunday evening, traffic was still bad. I had to ride all the way to the beltway to get sorted out. I was shivering cold as I watched for signs, cars, and high speed trucks, as I was desperately trying to get back south on 95. To make matters worse a snarling traffic jam was in the southbound lane near Lorton. What else could happen? If had just kept my butt out of the HOV lane I'd be sitting at the fireplace right NOW. After what seemed like hours I fought my way through the spaghetti like road system and found I-95 south. I was stuck in traffic and battled the wind to see if it would let me keep the 13 upright. I picked up I-95 a few miles north of the Lorton exit and it took me 45 minutes to get there. What a costly mistake the HOV lane was. WHY the hell do they not post signs, "Northbound HOV lane no exit till I-495." That way jokers like me won't get fed to the wolves. Hell, I didn't know you couldn't get off it once you got on, you could southbound, so who was I to know. The temp was 38 degrees as I made my way up Silverthorne Road to my brother in laws house. I turned in his quiet neighborhood at dusk, and dropped the stand in his driveway after a 470 mile day. Kathy and the kids welcomed me, and took me to the fireplace. It felt GOOD to be warm again. A short while later I brought the 13 in the garage and put it to sleep. David cooked up some great steaks on the grill and we had a nice supper. I brought them to speed on the latest in Alabama. The kids took me downstairs for foosball and video games till they had to go to bed. Kathy fixed slice and bake cookies and I indulged myself. They went to bed early and l had the house to myself. I got on the kids computer in the kitchen and checked my email and web site. When I finished that, I went over to the ST site and checked in with my friends. I am now at my intended turnaround point. Weather guessers are predicting more cold and wind in the morning. The high is only going to be in the low 40s with more gusty wind. My plan tomorrow is toride down into the District and see the new WWII memorial nearing completion. I plan a few days layover before heading back south. I went to bed around 12 but the howling wind on the outside of the house disturbed me. Next: Plan B in the District, on to Valley Forge
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The ferry pushed off right on time, and soon
we were on our way to Oracoke Island, the book said it was a 2 hour 25 minute
boat ride, so I went upstairs and settled in for a nap.
pictures of the approach to Oracoke. I
spoke with a fellow Long Rider driving a MG sports car. He was a retired
school teacher on his way to Maine. I see a lot of retired teachers, the
reason might be another job with a 25 year state pension plan. He
said he didn't know what he was going to do once he got there, but he'd figure
it out. He had camping stuff strapped down to a luggage rack on
the rear. Man, those are SMALL cars. His was a 70s something model.
He just walked off his well paying job, sold
his house, and exited society. He said, "I was in the rat
race everyday and doing pretty good, but then I realized that I was only a rat." I love wanderlust, but don't think I'd ever take it to his
level.
