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 1
April 8th, 2002
Prattville, Alabama

I pulled out of my garage at 6:30am, under dark, threatening skies.  A wet front to the west was moving east, it was my hope I would be able to stay in front of it for the ride across Georgia and South Carolina.

I have a tall order today.  Five hundred plus miles of Georgia, South Carolina back roads.   My goal for the day is Dillon, South Carolina, and a state park named Pee Dee.

I have several objectives for this trip.  Boyhood stomping grounds, the Gettysburg battlefield, and visiting family.  My Uncle "Boots" emailed me 2 days before departure informing me my Aunt Connie fell and broke her hip and was in the hospital, and now would not be a good time for a social visit.  In light of those circumstances, I will be coming home a day early.

I escaped Prattville on I-65 South, and in Montgomery went over to I-85 North.  The weather is warm, but it feels as if it could rain at any minute.

I slip by a radar trap near the AUM exit.  A trooper is on the prowl, looking for some hapless commuter who is late to work.  Somehow, it doesn't seem fair.  A poor guy trying to get work to punch his clock on time, will be running along 10 over the limit, and get busted.  Not only costing him 100 bucks he can't afford, but a reprimand in his file for being late.

I-85 brings me out of Montgomery on the Eastside, and I settle in for a long ride to Opelika and my first route change.

The interstate is mostly empty, and the ST sets down at 80 mph.  My mind begins to drift to the days ahead.  How will seeing my boyhood places up close and personal affect me?  The images of those places are strong in my heart and mind.  My days in Norfolk, helped forged me into who I am.  My conception of what a childhood should be, came from those days.  My family in the 50 and 60s can be compared to any Leave it to Beaver or Ozzie and Harriet rerun.  Those were good days, and I think of them often.

The ST is running perfectly.  Smooth, quiet, and powerful, I gobble up cages all the way to Opelika, where I exit onto U.S. 280 East, and ride by flea markets, and school buses into Phenix City and Columbus.

The highway follows a path through the Ft. Benning reservation.  Army trucks are about hauling troops to morning exercises and maneuvers.  A couple of young looking soldiers in battle fatigues, sitting in the back of a desert camouflage truck, give me a thumbs up gesture as I go around them.

With the sun breaking out, I switch over to SR 26 and go east.  I have been this way before.  In the fall of 1979 I rode the GL to Beaufort, South Carolina.  I am doing my best to retrace the route of 79, because I recall it to be ride worth repeating.  

Riding along SR 26 the wind begins to kick up.  A tough cross wind out of the south is pushing and raking me.  I counter lean the ST at crazy angles, to keep it tracking straight.  The front I left behind must be in a swirling motion, picking up warm Gulf breezes, then shooting them inland in a clock like pattern.

I take my first break of the day in Buena Vista, with 132 miles on the trip meter.  Not bad.  As I am taking my helmet off a guy walks over to me:

'hey what kind of crotch rocket is THAT?"

"not really a crotch rocket'

"well it looks like one."

I explain the ST to him, then go inside for Mountain Dew and chips.  I get out my cell phone with nationwide calling, and call my son on his way to class.

With my butt rested, I continue east across Georgia.

The road is good, and the traffic low.  I am lost in thought.  The rural Georgia countryside is peaceful and quiet.  I spot a farmer on a tractor plowing a Schley County field.  The dust cloud behind the tractor is thick, and the strong wind blows the dust across the road, and I slice through it like a plane in a cloud.  I look out to my right and see the farmer on his tractor, with acres and acres of farmland to plow.  He is like me.  Alone in his own world, as he goes about his tasks.  He sits atop his machine all day, with only his thoughts for company.  I wonder what he thinks about?

SR 26 takes me to Hawkinsville, and another route change.  This time to U.S. 341 South.  I remember the Hawkinsville name from my previous trip, but nothing looks familiar to me today.  Nothing in this town even looks remotely recognizable. 

In Vidalia, Georgia I stop at a Dairy Queen for lunch.  I don't know how they did it, but they managed to mess up chicken fingers. 

I also used this time to switch over to summer gloves.

After lunch I rode down the street to the Exxon station, and charged 8.28 cents to my Exxon card.  I took in 6.3 gallons of gas.  The savage cross and head winds have played havoc with my gas mileage, causing my reserve light to fire off at a mere 250 miles instead of the customary 280-90

In McRae I take U.S. 280 East.  I do recall the town of Claxton.  I remember passing by the Claxton Fruitcake Company 1979.  I can still see employees in the front glass windows baking cakes.  If you have ever bought a fruitcake from a grocery store, a good chance it came from this tiny town.  As I pass by the factory, I can see not much has changed.

  The Claxton Fruitcake Company, Claxton, Georgia

That night was cold in 1979.  I was woefully unprepared for a cold night of riding.  I looked for the store I stopped to check my map on that night, it is either no longer there, or I failed to recognize it.  I will do the same as that night long ago, leave the back roads in Pembroke for I-16 and get to South Carolina quickest way possible.

SR 119 takes me to I-16 which takes me to I-95 North.  I am in South Carolina now.  

On I-95 I fall in the caravan of north bound RVs.  I see tags from all over New England.  Winter is over up there, and time for the snow birds to return.  I pass them by the hundreds. 

I have ridden portions of I-95 in every state it touches.  It is a ugly, brutal road, and I am glad to escape it by taking Alt. 17 North at exit 38.  I want no more of I-95.

A route change is always a good time for a butt break so I took one at a gas mart.  This time I buy fancy water, and that's all.  I walk around and stretch my legs.

Alt. 17 North is a nice ride through rural South Carolina.  The towns along this road are poor and in disrepair.  The trees that canopy the road hang with Spanish Moss and the area reminds me of Tallahassee.

On a dusty, vacant lot in Cottageville, I see a group of barefooted black kids playing baseball. 

I have covered 500 miles so far and feeling good.  I take another butt break in Jamestown.  I am in my second wind now, and could easily ride another 2-300 miles if needed, but my destination is not that far ahead.  I use this time to call my wife and post my latest whereabouts.  

Riding out of town, I noticed a local meat market/grocery store.  I find a place to turn around and go back to it.  It has been my experience these places have a excellent meat market, and nice selection of fresh cut meats.  My plan is to pick out a good NY strip for supper at the campground.  I am greatly disappointed when I walk in to find the meat market nothing more then a few selections of prepackaged sandwich meats.  Not wanting to waste another stop, I pick up a can of Chef Boy Ardee and saddle back up.

I am getting good use out Daylight Savings time today.

Out of Jamestown I take SR 41, my last route change of the day.

The wind is still with me, and just as bad as in Georgia.  I would compare the wind of today, with any wind I battled in the Dakotas.

It is late afternoon now, and my shadow is with me.  He rides beside me in the grass.  

Somewhere near Hemingway, I get behind a old pick up truck hauling boxes and barrels.  I fear a box will blow off, and take me out, but I am stuck, as the south bound lane is busy.  Finally, I get a break and jump around him.

A short ride later I spot the signs for Pee Dee State Park, and ride several miles down the access road to find the park.  The entrance is not very impressive.  I follow the campground signs and soon find several RVs and tents nestled near the banks of the Pee Dee River.  Never judge a book by its cover as the old saying goes.

It has been a long day, and I ask a RVer-

"hey y'all seen the ranger?"

"not in a while, just go set up camp, he will find ya"

"ok"

I find a nice spot near the river, and set up camp.  A short time later the ranger finds me and takes my 10 bucks, but not before saying, "nice bike"

   
                          Pee Dee State Park

I rode 603 miles today.  All but a 120 or so on back roads, I feel good about that. The bulk of the miles to Virginia are behind me now, leaving a short ride into Norfolk tomorrow. 

With camp set up, I get out my stove and fix supper.  Ravioli.  Quick, easy and filling.  I eat supper with the sun setting in the trees.  Already I am getting sleepy but need a shower, so walk over to the bathhouse and take a long HOT shower and shave.  Many guys skip shaving when on the road, not me.  I dislike stubble, especially when I feel it sticking my pillow.

I got out my phone and made a few calls.

With darkness settling over the woods, I strolled over to a RV couple from Minnesota, and chatted.  They were nice people, seemed glad for the company.  They asked me what it was like traveling the country by bike.

Tired I went back to the tent and zipped up.  The night would be cool.  Good sleeping weather.  It only took a short time for me to drift off to sleep, ending a great first day.