Last post, summer 2014 ride

Well, I am back home after the final 646 kilometres on Wednesday from Bradford PA under mostly sunny skies and on major highways at far higher speed than on most roads this trip. 

It was a great trip that allowed me to see another large chunk of the United States and to meet some very interesting characters along the way. As usual there are people to thank for having made this journey safe, interesting, and enjoyable. Let me start with Jesse McGrath, my faithful BMW mechanic and owner of Premier Cycle, who serviced and put a new set of tires on the bike just before I left for the trip. The Beemer worked like a charm; in aaddition to gas I only neede to add half a litre of oil and replace one front riding light bulb. That is pretty darn good! And then there's Jane who was always cheerful and encouraging at the end of the line whenever I called her from the bike or skyped her later in the day or early in the morning from one of the many hotel rooms I stayed in.  Though we did not meet up as we had done on previous years rides, we talked often and shared road and home news, including results and commentary on the Ontario election. I also would like to thank the "strangers" I met along the way, some of whom I have mentioned in earlier posts. These chance meetings and exchanges, always friendly, were often the highlight of the day. There seems to be something about a mature guy on a BMW motorcycle with an Ontario license plate somewhere in the United States that invites folks to ask questions, or just offer words of encouragement, often with a not so disguised hint of envy in the voice.

And finally, my most sincere and profound thanks to Jim, my Mulberry Arkansas guide, host and friend. I was made to feel at home in Arkansas by this remarkable man who gave up days of his time to ride with me, rain or shine (ok, mostly the former) on the many beautiful roads around Fayetteville. We rode together, visited a number of interesting sites, ate together at local motorcyclists haunts, laughed heartily and often, shared stories about riding, and talked about all kinds of stuff, some of which we even saw eye-to-eye on. And to top it off I was treated to a delicious home cooked meal by Diana, Jim's gracious and welcoming wife. He made this trip the wonderful eye opening experience that it was, in more ways than I can adequately describe. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.


For those of you who keep track of these things, here are a few facts about this trip:

Total kilometres: 7,863

Duration: 22 days, from May 28 to June 18

Days riding: 18

Accomodations: 12 hotels, one private residence

Gas: 377.13 litres; $457 litres; 4.8L/100km

States travelled in: 12

Highlights: many, including:
Notre Dame University Campus
Indiannapolis Motor Speedway
Impressive lightening, thunder, rain and heavy wind storm at Mountain House Arkansas
Crystal Bridges Museum in Bentonville Arkansas - Special exhibit; A Taste For Modernism
Nashville: the Johnny Cash Museum and the bars and clubs downtown
National Memorial for Flight UA93, Shanksville Pennsylvania

The best rides:
Upstate Michigan, past miles and miles of orchards
Everywhere around Fayetteville Arkansas
Hwy 70 between Nashville and Knoxville Kentucky
Middlesboro KY to Elkins WV by the twisty back roads

There are so many memories, enough to last the rest of ones life really. It would be a pleasure to share some with you, if you want.  Until the next ride, here's to you,

Take care!

Kentucky, Virginia, West Virginia and Pennsylvania

There comes a point during any of these long bike trips when getting back home starts to weigh on my mind more.  I then start to look at the map differently, trying to figure out how to get there some new interesting way. When I left Middlesboro, Kentucky Tuesday morning my rough plan was to follow highways 58, 19 and 219 all the way up to Buffalo. And that's pretty much what I did, except for the Buffalo bit because Jane informed me earlier today that there was a forecast of really bad weather in Southwestern Ontario.  In any event I covered nearly 1100 kilometres in the last two days. I rode down some really twisty bits, like over 100 kilometres in one stretch of 219 in the Monongahela National Forest south of Elkins West Virginia. When I say twisty, I mean extreme crooked roads with successions of twists that are signed at either 40, 30, 20, and even 15 mph; and they mean it! I gotta hand it to those Americans, they sure know how to put a curve, or rather curves on their roads. Also, the roads are in generally very good shape. A fair chunk of the post 2008 fiscal stimulus package has found its way in bridges and roads, a smart investment to my mind.

The scenery is amazing, there are places where you can look out for miles at haze smeared mountains and green valleys. The ditches and the roadside are covered with wildflowers, in particular the orange day lillies that are at their peak and are everywhere in huge clumps.

Yesterday I passed through Lebanon, and today it was Berlin, some trip hey?

Today's most touching moment was a stop at the Flight 93 National Memorial at the site of the crash of that United Airlines plane in the Somerset County field near Shanksville Pennsylvania at 10:03 on September 11, 2001. The plane which had been taken over by four hijackers had a crew of seven and thirty-three passengers; all were killed. Had it not been for the bravery of the passengers, the plane might well have made it to the Capitol Building in Washington, its intended target. The memorial is sombre and simple. The wall of names of the passengers and crew is set on the line of the flightpath of UA 93, and the actual spot where the plane crashed is in front of a big boulder in front of a hemlock grove that can easily be seen in the distance. Unlike the Twin Towers and the Pentagon where the other planes struck, this site is in the middle of a nondescript rural landscape where, many years before the earth was displaced to exploit rich seams of coal. 9/11 affected the lives of many, and the memories are still fresh. I overheard a visitor speaking to the National Park Service Officer about one of the crew that she knew and the call that she had made from the plane in the moments before the passengers charged the cockpit; and the officer replied: "I tell her story every day". I rode the rest of the day thinking about those poor people.

This evening I arrived at my Americas Best Value Inn in Bradford PA. Those of you who have been paying attention to Retirement Rides may well recall that I mentionned Bradford once before. Indeed, Bradford, the home of the Zippo lighter is where I stopped at the end of the day on July 22, 2013. And at what hotel do you think? Déjà vu, all over again!

Here are a few pictures of the last two days.

This moth was interested in gas at the service station I  stopped at in Dot, Virginia.

Looking out towards Lee County Virginia on the side of Wilderness Road.

Day lilies, all over the place; they made me think of Jane.

The real Berlin.

The names of the passengers and crew of UA Flight 93 are engraved in the white marble Wall of names, which follows the flight path. Through the gap you can see the boulder that marks the far edge of where the impact cratter was.



Lucille (or simply Lucy)

Today's topic is Lucille. For those who haven't met her yet, Lucy is the mostly amazing person who lives in the microprocessor of my motorcycle's GPS. How she manages to keep all that information in her memory and maintain complete situational awareness is amazing. But, yes there is a but, every now and then for reasons unbeknown to mere mortals and bike riders (I suspect sunspots, or microbursts of wattage to her CPU, something akin to a hot flash I understand), she looses it. By it, I mean the where she happens to be at that precise moment. She behaves like I'm the one that's lost. Surely operator error is out of the question - I was just following orders. She recalculates and she directs me through a series of ever more confusing turns. Why plotting out the course she insists upon on a piece of paper would look like a half eaten plate of pasta (linguini). In those cases I've discovered that it's best to take matters into ones own hands; to discharge her of guidance responsibilities and give her time to recover her bearings.

So, when this happened in Knoxville today, I gently turned her off, drove into a McDonalds, ordered a smoothie and as I slowly sipped it reprogrammed the GPS while Lucy was collecting her thoughts. When it was time to leave I put the GPS on the bike, selected the destination and waited to see what she'd say. "Please proceed to the highlighted route". The tone was authoritative and polite, and I took the "please" and the absence of any expletives as positive signs. And I was right; Lucy guided me faultlessly out of Knoxville and on to Middlesboro where the room I had booked at the aforementioned McDonalds awaited. Lucy is actually quite good and since we spend so much time together I can't help wondering what she looks like and what she wears. Do you think it's a tailored skirt and fetching blouse with a Hermès scarf like Claudine the french GPS girl wears, or something more casual that's more practical for long trips?

Nashville

The weather clears; it's nice and sunny; time to enjoy Nashville. And what's not to like about Music City. First, there's the Frist Center for the Visual Arts where there are always interesting shows, including a great exhibition on animation with a lot of examples including early Walt Disney, Hanna Barbera, Looney Tunes, and even the classic NFB Neighbours animation by Norman McLaren to name but a few.  A pleasant few hours reliving some memories with friends like Yogi Bear, Daffy Duck, Mickey Mouse, Goofy, the Flintstones and others.

And then there's the Grand Ole Opry. No visit to Nashville would be complete without visiting the heart of country music and being in the audience of the longest running radio show. A visit to the Johnny Cash Museum proves to be a worthwhile adventure. The exhibits trace the legends life from humble beginnings in northeast Arkansas to the pinnacle of the country music world. There are many artifacts, a bunch of trivia, and examples of his songs from the 60s to the 2000s. 

Let's not forget the music scene in Nashville.  In what other city can you hear good live music in dozens of venues starting before lunch and extending well into the early hours of the morning - not that I managed to witness both ends. And you won't be alone. The bars are packed with visitors from all over the USA and other countries. Why there was a couple from Saskatchewan at one place I stopped for a break (and to sample a local beer).   While the food is generally nothing to write home about, you can't go wrong with a plate of pasta at Demos', or a half rack of ribs washed down with a nice cold Yazoo at Rippy's Ribs on Broadway.  And when you've had your fill of bar hopping you can cross the Cunberland River on the pedestrian bridge and walk by LP Field, home of the Tennessee Titans. Here are a few pictures of Nashville:

In order, they are: the downtown skyline from the pedestrian bridge over the Cumberland River that burst its banks in May of 2010 and caused many hundreds of million dollars of damage, including to the Grand Ole Opry building: Printers Alley, one of the oldest streets in Nashville where clubs have been open for decades, even during prohibition; the Ryman Auditorium, the first home of the Opry; a three floor club on Broadway with live music on each floor; a band performing on the stage at The Stage on Broadway, one of the bars Jane and I went to when we were here in 2013; and Yazoo Pale Ale, a Nashville brewed beverage of choice.

Tomorrow it's time to get back on the road and to start the return trip home. I'll keep you posted.

Short update

Yesterday was my last day in Fayetteville and wouldn't you know it, it rained.  But that did not stop me from going to visit Pea Ridge, the site of another civil war battle where the union forces defeated the rebels. Afterwhich I rode to Dixon Street in Fayetteville and had a late lunch in a sushi joint.

Today I covered 525 kilometers from Fayetteville to the eastern outskirts of Memphis. While the clouds looked threatening at the beginning, the rain held off and by lunchtime the sky was blue and the temperature had risen a full 10 degrees to 29. All in all, a nice day for motorcycling with very little traffic even on the portions of the interstate highways I had to take. 

Tomorrow it's a shorter ride from here to Nashville where I plan to revisit places that Jane and I went to last summer. It should be fun.

Rain, rain go away; come again some other day

Well that just about sums up the weather ever since I have arrived in Fayetteville. The days where there are clear skies at some point in the afternoon seem to have passed for good, and it's now rain, soft and then hard, all the time.  Yesterday Jim and I had lunch at the Pig trail By-pass Country Café where I must say I had an excellent double cheeseburger with bacon and an A&W root beer. What's not to love in that?

The pig trail, as the name suggests is a piece of road in a beautiful mountain setting with a series of progessively tighter curves that you have to negotiate at very low speed. Difficult in nice weather, hellishly so in the rain. But we bikers do it because? Well because our addled brains have  convinced us collectively that doing such things is fun.

Yesterday we also visited the Terra Studios where pottery and blown glass products, including the famous blue glass Bluebird of Paradise are crafted. The shop which fronts the space where the glassblowers work behind a glass wall is full of handicraft, some of which is very nice and expensive. The grounds around the studio are laid out like a small park with clay characters and decorations all over the place.  The effect is quite pleasing and the joint is a stop for many a visiting tourist and maybe a few bikers; though I doubt that it's on the Hells Angels "Must See While in Fayetteville" list.

At the end of the ride I was treated to a delicious homemade meal at Jim and Diana's lovely home on a 54 acre piece of land next door to the middle of nowhere at the end of a steep gravel driveway. I was made to feel at home and I'm happy to have seen where they live with their two cats and the many dogs that guard the fenced-in property.

As it was raining again today and since I had to be back at the hotel for a conference call at 3:00 we limited our outing to a visit to the Crystal Bridges Museum of Modern Art, a magnificent structure designed by Moshe Safdie and set in an equally magnificent park full of trees, shrubs, flowers, and the occasional sculpture. The museum and the grounds, admittance to which are free year round, are gifts of the Waltons and the art collection is excellent. We were able to visit an impressive temporary collection of impressionist artists; more my cup of tea then Jim's.

Tomorrow is my last day in Fayetteville and Jim has promised another interesting ride, rain or shine. I'm betting rain but, who knows.

Riding around Fayetteville

As promised my riding buddy Jim, and his 76 year old friend Bob, were at the hotel at 9:00 and we set out for a long day, 444 kilometres, in the Ozark mountains to the east of Fayetteville.  We visited a really neat place, Eureka Springs, that is full of old buildings. One of these, the New Orleans Hotel, has wrought iron railings on balconies facing the street on all of its floors. We got caught in some heavy rain as we were headed to Jasper, and at one point when the wind gusts were at  over 50 mph, and the lightning was getting more intense and closer, our leader Jim pulled into a self serve carwash bay. We waited there until the worst had passed and then resumed our ride. We stopped for lunch at a place called the Low Gap General Store where I had a nice bowl of squash soup and a fine plate of catfish. For the rest of the ride we were under clearing skies and rising temperature.

As agreed yesterday when we parted company, Jim to ride to his home and I to ride to the hotel, I met Jim at a service station about 40 miles south of Fayetteville. Our ride would take us down some nice winding roads up and down the sides and on the tops of the two highest points of land between the Appalachians  and the Rockies. The view from the top is magnificent.

Those clouds you see are tame looking but they are a warning to those who can read clouds that maybe something is going to happen. Well it did. After lunch the sky became dark and we knew it was going to rain, again. But having learned our lesson yesterday, we again pulled into one of the bays of a carwash where we waited for the rain to start. It didn't. Having put on our raingear we decided to make a run for the Lodge on the top of Mount Magazine, the state's highest peak. But since tempting the weather gods is never a good idea...well you've probably guessed that we got rained on. But the good news is that the worst of the rain, wind, thunder and lightning happened while we were in the Lodge having a beer. After we rode down the mountain and headed to our respective berths under bright sunny skies.Another great day of riding, over 600 kilometres.

I wonder what Jim, and the weather have in store for tomorrow?

Fort Donelson and a bit of nasty weather

The highlight of yesterday's trip from Clarksville Tennessee to Jonesboro Arkansas was a stop at Fort Donelson just to the west of Dover on the Cumberland River where one of the decisive battles of the Civil War was waged. Indeed the union forces under General Ulesses S. Grant and Flag Officer Andrew H. Foote were able to take Fort Donelsen on February 16, 1862. Up until that point the war had been going badly for the Union with losses at Manassas and Wilson's Creek in the summer of 1881. By defeating John B. Floyd and Brig, Gen. Gideon J. Pillow (who both slipped away to Nashville when they realized that the battle would be lost) and Brig. Gen. Simon B. Buckner (who had been a friend and former West Point classmate of Grant before the war), who actually surrendered, the union had broken the defences of the confederate forces and would subsequently be able to push south until the union  became one again.

As a national battlefield, the grounds are well maintained and the signage makes it relatively easy to appreciate where the conderate and union forces were deployed and how the battle ensued.  From the emplacement pictured here the conderate forces fired on the US ironclads but were unable to defend the fort.





The previous two pictures show the numbers of Union and Coderate forces engaged in the battle at Fort Donelson. The Union victory came at quite a cost. Years later Buckner would visit Grant who was on his deathbed and the two friends and then enemies would shake hands. Buckner would be one of the pallbearers at Grant's funeral.

From Fort Donelson I rode under a hot sun to Jonesboro Arkansas. This involved a ferry ride accross the Mississippi from Hickman KY to Dorena MO. I was alone on the ferry and while it was fairly windy the 15 minute crossing was uneventful.

When I left the hotel this morning the sky was overcast and the temperature was 29 degrees. There were reports that isolated thunderstorms were possible later in the day but nothing to worry about; right! as the sky got darker and darker and the first drops of rain began to fall I pulled off the road to put on my rain gear.  As I was doing so a car pulled over and a man, with a young woman in the passenger seat called me over. "I saw you earlier and just thought I'd stop to tell you that the radio says there are high winds, hail, rain, lightning and thunder coming this way..just letting you know."  I thanked him for the information and asked how far the next town was? "Oh, about 20, no 19 milles or so." And he drove off. I followed and arrived in Mountain House just as the temperature dropped to 19 and theavy rain, and I mean heavy, started  to come down. Everything, except the hail, came as promised. I managed to find a safe harbour in the parking lot of a Arby's and spent the next hour and a half watching the storm supercell go by and having lunch. At one point I think I saw Miss Gulch fly by on her bicycle, but I'm not sure. Oh, and the man and the girl in the car, they both turned up in the restaurant after having spent the worst part of the storm in the nearby Walmart. Just a granfather taking his teenaged grandaughter shopping and for a lunch treat.

The rest of the trip through the Ozarks was easy; the sun came out, the temperature rose to 29, I removed the raingear, and the pavement was soon as dry as if there had been no rain at all.

From Indy Speedway to Louisville Kentukcky and Clarksville Tennessee

Monday morning I made my way to the Indy Speedway where for $25 I took a 1 1/2 hour guided ground tour that included a lap around the track (in a bus), a stop at the brick strip finish line, and visits to the media room, the race commentators booth, the victory podium, pit row and the museum. Our guide and the bus driver were both very knowledgeable and they kept up a most informative commentary and answered questions from the twenty or so in our group during the tour. Here are a few pictures from Indy starting with the museum which is in the infield, the winners podium (there was no milk for this first place finisher, nor a $2 million cheque), the car that Jacques Villeneuve drove at an average speed of 153.616 mph to win the 1995 Indy 500, and a view down the straightaway into turn 1.



After this great stop I headed to Louisville where I had reserved a room for Tuesday night. After a quick change of clythes I took a taxi to a place called Doc Crow's Southern Smmokehouse and Raw Bar where I had a half dozen oysters with a glass of California Sauvignon Blanc and a half rack of dry rubbed ribs while sitting at the bar where I met a lovely young couple who were out celebrating their ninth "together" anniversary. Seth and Tanya are a remarkable pair.  They left home at the ages of 17 and 18. At 19 she was the manager of a fast food joint working over 60 hours a week for poor pay and no benefits. They have travelled a fair bit in the U S but never to the East Coast. Having now tried oysters, and liked them, they will try to make it to New York to experience the Grand Central Station Oyster Bar, a place I recommended and which was supported by the guy on my right, a representative from Dell computers from upstate New York who now lives in Colorado. But before then Seth and Tanya will hold another yard sale to get rid of their earthly possessions, intall the futon that they've trimmed to fit in the back of their car, and head west. Their current employer, Hard Rock Café, has promised them jobs in San Diego where they will continue their benefits and get a nice increase in their hourly wage.  I wished them well. The meal and the company were great.

After dinner I walked to the riverside and around the downtown core. From what I saw it is a pretty city.

Today I rode from Louisville to Clarksville with a very brief stop at Fort Knox. The further south you get, the higher the corn. After Russellville where I stopped for lunch and had the fried chicken buffet at the Colonial Inn Restaurant thatwas jam-packed with people, I rode by some huge fields of corn and grain.

A few miles after I passed this field I went by another where the farm machinery was already bringing in the crop of grain. June 3 and already harvesting, isn't that early?

My favourite sign so far is the following one that I saw next to a secondary highway.

The message is plain, but short on specifics. I was expecting another one up the road that would clarify where the hell HELL might be but to no avail.  I'll keep watching and let you know if I see anything.

Notre Dame and Indianapolis

So when I pulled out of Machinaw City Friday morning the temperature was 19 degrees and the sky was slightly overcast, near perfect weather for a ride. As I headed south along US 31 which follows the east shore of Lake Michigan for a bit after Petrosky, the temperature dropped significantly.  At the point along the road closest to the lake the thermometer on my bike registered the "outside" temperature at 11 degrees.  For those who may have forgotten, the "outside" and "inside" temperature on a motorcycle are pretty much the same. Indeed one of the interesting aspects of riding a motorcycle, as I've noted in previous posts, is that, unlike in a car say, you experience the variations in temperature as you pass through them; one moment hot and humid, the next cold and crisp. It's neat, at least for a biker.

This picture is of part of the marina in Charlevoix, a lovely small city along US 31. As you can see the sky has nearly cleared by now and the temperature is continuing to climb. It reached 27 degrees by the time I arrived in South Bend after passing by thacres and acres of apple orchards that line both sides of the road for miles on end, quite an impressive sight with the early blooms on every tree.

Next stop, the Notre Dame University campus after having checked in and dropped my luggage at the Americas Best Value. The grounds and the buildings which I spent a number of hours visiting yesterday are impressive. Given that it's homecoming week I was not alone walking around the grounds and looking into buildings including the basilica, the arts gallery and the famous football stadium, the concourse of which was serving as the post marathon reception area Saturday.

Here are a few pictures from Notre Dame.

This is a painting in the art gallery of a famous July 2, 1863 scene at Gettysburg where FatherCorby, a  C.S.C order chaplain from Notre Dame University is giving a general absolution to the soldiers of the Irish Brigade who are about to go into battle. During the ensuing fight 27 were killed, 109 were wounded, and 62 went missing.

 All who follow college football will recognize the home of the Fighting Irish, a prominent feature of the Notre Dame landscape and the venue for many great victories.



The Basilica of the Sacred Heart which looks out onto one of the many green spaces of the campus is close to the main administration or gold domed building in the center of thhe campus and pictured next.



And now for some food news. Guided by the man at the desk of the hotel, not always a safe thing I hear you say, I went to an italien restaurant called Rocco's.  As it so happens Rocco's which is a family run institution and is South Bends first original pizza joint.  It was started as a 12 seat restaurant in 1951 and has since expanded to 200.  It is located very close to the university and as the many photos on its walls attest it has been dishing out pizza and pasta to Notre Dame students and others since then. The place was crowded and I can report that the large plate of spaghetti with olive oil and garlic heaped with sliced sauteed mushrooms was delicious.  The service was attentive, and the price very reasonable. Skipping ahead to last night's dinner, another italien experience at Buca de Beppe on Illinois Street in Indianapolis, I can say that the lemon chicken with capers and the side of spaghetti with a lovely fresh tomato sauce that I had there was lick-the-plate good. The two glasses of Clos du Bois Chardonnay probably added to the enjoyment of the meal that I took at the bar watching the tenders and waitresses and waiters rushing to serve customers who walked in continuously.

The short drive down US 31 from South Bend to Indianapolis under a blazing sun was uneventful. By the time I reached the La Quinta Inn and Suites on Washington Street the temperature had climbed to 34.5 and I was riding sans gloves and with my coat flapping in the breeze.  After changing into shorts and a clean shirt I left the motorcycle parked in a secure spot in the hotel lot and set out to explore the city on foot; more on this to follow in the next post.

2014 Edition of Retirement Rides

Hello everyone; another summer another motorcycle adventure.

After my trusty mechanic Jesse did a regular maintenance service and installed a new set of Michelins on my bike Wednesday morning, I said goodbey to Jane who had accompanied me to the shop, and started off on this years adventure which will take me to Fayetteville Arkansas via who knows where at this time.  Those of you who have been following my annual motorcycle trecks will remember Jim, a motorcyclist that I met, along with his friend Derrick, whilw we were waiting out a heavy rain under a highway overpass east of Rapid City. Jim, who is also retired and who had given me some brochures about motorcycle riding in his home state of Arkansas, followed up just before Christmas with another batch of similar themed material, and a repeat of his offer to act as my guide if I ever decided to head his way. Well, why not! And why not earlier than in years past, especially since Jane and I are off for a near month-long trip to Berlin later this summer.

So yesterday I rode as far as Sudbury where I stopped and watched the Habs crush the Rangers (GO HABS GO!) and today, under a bright blue sky I made my way to Sault Ste. Marie where I crossed into the United States of America. I rode over the Mackinaw Bridge that's constructed with a steel grating covered deck that no biker likes. After the gut clutching slow passage through which I remembered the advice to ride softly, loosen the clutch of death on the handlebars, and breathe (it's a long bridge), I arrived at the Thunderbird Inn in Mackinaw City. After I get out of my riding dudds I will go for a walk and find someplace to have dinner; inside, because the mosquitoes are vicious.

I'll keep you posted.