Fleeter Logs

#151 Bill Mayer Saddle in Ojai

2009-05-04T13:22:00.002-04:00

Fleeter Log #151
Bill Mayer Saddle

Day 20 - Monday
May 4, 2009

When I left Virginia, I knew I had a decision to make. And, I needed to make it before I crossed the Continental Divide. Two factors I needed to consider before making this decision: 1) how many miles do I plan on putting on the F650GS twin? 2) how comfortable (or miserable) will the stock seat be during those miles? By the time I rode across the wide open plains of Kansas and Oklahoma, I had begun to do some quaility bonding with the GS. So much so that it looked like we would be sharing some serious miles together in our future. How comfortable do I expect those miles to be based on the last 3,000 to 4,000 miles? Well, it seems that if I only do non-rushed 200-300 mile days, my bumbum doesn't complain too much. But, if I start rolling on 400+ miles per day or riding gas tank to gas tank (stopping only for fuel) without any flower sniffin' along the way, then my bumbum starts to feel that this touring by motorcycle stuff is a pretty lousy idea.

Decision made. While in New Mexico, I called the folks at Bill Mayer Saddles (BMS) in Ojai, California and asked about getting a ride-in appointment for a custom-made, specially built to fit My Bumbum, saddle. They already had a full schedule for the day that I planned on being in the area, but in pure "put the touring rider first" customer service attitude, they tell me to come in--they put me on the schedule. They have a policy of always fitting the touring rider into the schedule. I'm advised to be there by 7:30am. Not a problem! I'm getting a new BMS!

The night before the special day, I have a good night sleep in a very reasonably priced room at a motel in the town of Ojai. Ojai Rancho Inn is conveniently located about a mile from BMS. I highly recommend it to anyone else staying in the area . . . whether you are getting a new custom saddle or not.

I arrive at BMS and meet two other fellow riders looking for a solution to soothe the butt of the monkey. They were: Chad from Austin, Texas and Pierre from northern California. The forth ride-in cancelled his appointment, and so there were just us three . . . and a whole stack of orders that were waiting to be built and shipped out to waiting bumbums across the country. The waiting orders are important, but Ride-Ins take priority. They get started on ours right way, right after determining our riding styles and expectations.

Chad, Pierre and I visited, sipped coffee, talked road stories, etc. and I even pulled out my laptop to take advantage of the wi-fi. The morning flew by. The saddle maker would come out and study the way I sat on my motorcycle, go in work on the saddle shape, come out have me try it, get my input, go back and work on it some more, repeat, repeat again, let me take it for a ride, some more fine tuning to the shape, another test, finally attaching the cover, final sit test. Done. By 12:30pm I was riding out of Ojai on my custom built saddle. Perfect fit!

Candace working on my saddle with a smile.
Candace takes a seat on the saddle she spent the morning creating. She makes many a saddle, but never actually gets to take a sit on them. She's thinking she might need a GS.

Wow! What a difference a custom seat makes! Loving the BMS!
It's a great saddle to spend miles and miles with. If you do go see Candace (or anyone else at BMS) tell them I said hello and that I'm loving my BMS!
The twists of CA 33 are waiting for me as I leave Oja heading toward Maricopa.

#150 Muholland Highway CA

2009-05-03T23:27:00.022-04:00

Fleeter Log #150
Mulholland Hwy

Day 19 - Sunday
May 3, 2009
174 miles

Palmdale, CA to Ojai, CA
Interactive map of this trip

The sun kissed them and I ate them. I try to honor the lands I ride through by experiencing what is unique to the area. Today, I enjoy oranges grown in the homelands of Sunkist.

I leave Palmdale and skim past the northside of Los Angeles through Santa Clarita and catch California Highway 126 to Fillmore. During the “orange rush” of 1897, the Fillmore Citrus Fruit Association was formed and joined the Southern California Fruit Exchange. This association of local growers changed its name to California Fruit Growers Exchange in 1905. In 1908 the Exchange adopted the word "Sunkist" as its trademark and eventually became Sunkist Growers Exchange in 1952.

Today I stop at Joe's Fruit Stand to support the local growers.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

Oranges are the obvious fruit pick of the day. I have plenty to choose from. When I pull back onto the highway, the GS is loaded with enough oranges to keep my vitamin C levels up for the next several days.

These trees don't seem to have been grown for their shade producing capabilities. They seem like they are trying to stretch high enough to tickle a passing cloud.

Fruit groves in Ventura County California are common sights.

Time to get another ink stamp for my National Park Service (NPS) stamp collection. I find the visitor center for the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area in Thousand Oaks off US101.

Where the days are longer
The nights are stronger than moonshine
You're gonna go I know . . .

The day absolutely DID surround the daylight as I rode down the Ventura Highway with the song by America repeating in my helmet. I didn't stay on US101 long before I came to my exit for Kanan Road (N9). I refuel at $2.50 a gallon for regular at the corner then head off, keeping my eyes peeled for a famous rock store that should be between here and the Pacific Ocean somewhere. Normally when I say that, the search is left wide open since I live near the Atlantic Ocean. But today, less than 10 miles south from where I pumped gas the Pacific Ocean is caressing the beaches of Malibu with its white capped waves. Of course, there is no straight route through Decker Canyon and over the Santa Monica Mountains. It will take me closer to 20 miles before I lay eyes on the blue water of the Pacific.

Less than 5 miles away from US101, Kanan Road takes a right, but I stay left onto Mulholland Highway. I chose to go left because I had never heard of Kanan Road; however, I've heard many references to Mulholland over the years. My instinct didn't fail me. About half a mile and on the left I see a large swarm of motorcycles and somewhere hidden behind them I see a structure made of rock. And, written right above the doorway is ROCK STORE. Sometimes it's just too easy. I ride about 4,000 miles across the country and right up to the ROCK STORE as if I knew exactly where I was going. No, I didn't ask GPS Jill for help. Didn't even occur to me to ask if she had ever heard of the ROCK STORE or knew where it was located. I've heard Jay Leno talk about hanging out here enough and knew that it was located in the canyons of the Santa Monica Mountains just up the coast from LA. How hard could it be to find?

There it is . . . THE ROCK STORE. Being Sunday, it's very crowded and since crowds aren't my thing, I snap a couple pictures and move on, never leaving the saddle.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

A few more twists of Mulholland later, I see a primitive facility and decide to make use of it. I even use the shady spot to call a friend (hi Shonah) in Texas while I have a snack with a swig of Gatorade and then down a bottle of water. The temperature has made it up to 76 degrees here in the early afternoon -- not really hot, but feels a bit warm to me after enjoying my ride yesterday in the 50s-60s.

I finish my ride through the canyons to the Pacific on the Mulholland Highway.

The Mulholland Highway takes me right to the Pacific Coast Highway (CA1).

North of Malibu on CA1 is another biker hangout. I don't even stop for a picture this time. I just shoot this over my shoulder as I ride past.

Pacific Coast Highway - PCH (CA1) is designated as an All-American Road. Here's the view heading north toward Oxnard, CA.

There's no question how this byway made it to the All American Road list. It will stay on my list -- there is much more of it yet to ride.

North of Oxnard is Ventura. Between the two, is another ink stamp location. Off the coast near this marina are the Channel Islands -- no, not the ones off the French Coast of Normandy.

These Channel Islands are often compared to the Galapagos Islands of South America because they are also home to some life forms that are known no where else on Earth. The chain of isolated islands is the site of the discovery of the earliest paleontological evidence of humans in North America and are now known to have been settled by maritime Paleoindian people at least 13,000 years ago. Five of the eight islands are under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service.

Channel Islands National Park visitor center is located just south of US101 in Ventura, CA.
It's after 5pm by the time I finish plodding about the sandy beach near the visitor center. I realize that I still haven't had much too eat today, but only have about 25 miles left to get to my stop.

In Oak View, I find the nice little pasta place, Boccalli's, that was recommended to me by one of the Center's Park Rangers. I stop for a filling meal as I pass through on my way to Ojai.

Ojai means "Valley of the Moon" and called such by the early Chumash Indians that were early inhabitants of the valley. But then came western development. The town was layed out and developed in 1874. The developer named the place Nordhoff in honor of the writer Charles Nordhoff. But then came The War and the anti-German sentiments leading up to The War. The name was just too German sounding. So the name was changed back to Ojai in 1917.

The bell tower stands proud along the main thoroughfare and is an example of the Spanish style architecture that is common in the small town of Ojai.

I ride up and down the main street of Ojai scoping out my lodging options for the night. This isn't a cheap place to stay, but I have my reasons for being here. Moving on down the road tonight in search of less expensive quarters isn't an option. I settle on the Ojai Rancho Inn. It's reasonable ($79+ taxes) considering the going rates locally. I settle-in to what I discover to be a wonderful little place with old knotty pine, real wood paneling and even a flat panel HDTV hanging on the wall. I was in heaven! Splendid end to a splendid day!

Tomorrow: Time to do something about that stock GS seat!
I might decide to do some riding on this motorcycle, so I need a comfy place for my bumbum.

Copyright 2009 Fleeter Logs

#149 Rim of the World

2009-05-02T23:52:00.018-04:00

Fleeter Log #149
Rim of the World

Day 18 - Saturday
May 2, 2009
184 miles

Joshua Tree, CA to Palmdale, CA
Interactive map of this trip

Yesterday I rode in the desert. Today I ride into the San Bernardino Mountains that separate Los Angeles from the Mojave Desert. Today's road will take me through mountains and pines, past several lakes, and even past sections with snow alongside the road.

Highway 247 from Joshua Tree to Lucerne Valley didn't offer much to keep the ride interesting, but the ride decidedly takes a turn for the better when I make my way west into the San Bernardino National Forest on CA18.

The morning carried me past Big Bear Lake within view of Sugarloaf Mountain. Since I don't know what my dining opportunities will provide me down the road, I opt to take advantage of what is here and now. I stop for a burger at the local eats place in Arrowbear--Deep Creek Neo's. It's obviously the locals that keep Neo's in business. I see blue collar workers making the most of a 30 minute lunch stop, grade school kids that must have had too much energy to stay at home, a mom running in for takeout as she checks off her daily to-do list, and an older couple savoring their time over a meal just because they can.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

Highway 18 is also known as the Rim of the World along this intriguing section between the lakes and the woods.

Some people are listmakers. I tend to keep lists. So yes, I'm a list maker. Among my collection, I have a listing of roads that I want to ride at least once as I fleeter about the country. The Rim of the World Highway (CA18) is on that list. Even though it is mid-day when I ride to the Rim of the World, I find myself riding through a mist as though it's early morning across a low lying field where the fog hasn't burnt off yet. But, here we are riding through one of the higher elevations in California in the middle of a day in early May. I don't think this is a low-lying fog -- I think I am riding through the clouds with an occasional glimpse of the San Bernardino Valley below.

Rim of the World CA18 video

Even the local high schoolers take pride in their school's geographical location. On the days the clouds part, their perch provides a special view of the world that lies before them.
Rim of the World High School

At Crestline, I leave CA18 behind as it turns south toward Burbank. I stay my course of looping north and west far around Los Angles. My new route is California Highway 138.

The folks in Crestline are happy for the tourists that come looking for recreational opportunities in the area and wishing them a Happy Return as they leave.

Looking down on Sawpit Canyon Road from CA138.

A view of Silverwood Lake in Sawpit Canyon from a pullout on CA138.

Scene along CA138 just past Silverwood Lake near Interstate 15.

Where CA138 crosses I15 is known as El Cajon Pass. This area offers a variety of hazards: The Santa Ana winds blow especially fierce through the pass when they get riled up, visibility is often hindered by heavy fog, and there is a somewhat famous faultline running here.

Most passes are formed by the ancient passing of a river system through a mountainous area, but El Cajon is formed by the overlapping of two mountain ranges--San Bernardino and the San Gabriel Mountains. The continental (tectonic) plates in the Earth's crust at this location are busy grinding and clashing as the San Andreas Fault travels right through here along with trains, trucks, cars, and motorcycles. The pass is also popular among the railfanning folks as 54 trains pass through here daily.

The Rock Candy Mountains (better known as Mormon Rocks) are visible along CA138 to the west of I15. Past Mormon Rocks, I turn left onto CA2 looking for another road on my list--Angeles Crest Highway.

After passing through the small town of Wrightwood, I leave San Bernardino County behind and enter into Los Angeles County. The signs remind me that the mountains are capable of providing much cooler weather than the near perfect 60 degree weather that graces my ride today.

The Angeles National Forest visitor center is located at the start of the Angeles Crest Hwy (CA2) that runs directly through this national forest toward Burbank. This 66 mile road will have to stay on my do-ride list since I learn from the rangers that it is still closed from the storm of March 2006, which completely washed out a large section of the roadway. It is due to open later this month with a new bridge.

My alternate route today is the Big Pines Hwy (CA114) which still offers an enjoyable ride with several options to stray from the paved road.

The last of the few turns as I come out of the mountains.

Valyermo, CA is a small blip as I leave the mountains behind and start watching the GPS for guidance as it has me rejoin CA138 in Littlerock on my way to Palmdale for the night.
The GS is doing a great job at carrying me across the country via freeways, two lane blacktop, and a few dirt/gravel roads to keep it varied. The GS and I have become great fleetering partners. However, I still have one complaint: the seat. But tomorrow, that may change . . .

#148 Joshua Tree, CA

2009-05-01T23:19:00.003-04:00

Fleeter Log #148
Joshua Tree National Park

Day 17 - Friday
May 1, 2009
256 miles

Needles, CA to Joshua Tree, CA
Interactive map of this trip

The first thing I see when I open my motel room door is the GS . It seems to be waiting for me to get with the program and get on the stick. It doesn't take me long to make ready to ride. I have the routine down pretty well after a few days on the road.

Take GS cover off and stuff into small stuff sack, GPS & SPOT mounted and turned on, attach tank bag, strap the duffle onto the backseat, fill Camelback with ice and water, take a pic of the motel, get a cup of coffee, checkout, enter route into the GPS as I sip my coffee, toss coffee cup into trash, take a swig of water, helmet up, and roll.

I pull out of the Days Inn parking lot in Needles, CA about 8am under a sunny 68 degree sky. It quickly warms up to what I would expect, but still nice after yesterday's near triple digit heat. After about 50 miles of this...

I come to this -- Vidal Junction, CA. Anyone passing through here may want to seriously consider fueling up. The opportunities are few in this part of the country. In fact this was the only such place I saw between Needles and I10 at Chiriaco Summit -- a distance of about 150 miles.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

Leaving Vidal Junction, I rode highway 62 west following along the BNSF railroad track. Along this stretch, I saw numerous rock memorials. Some were quite creative using different color rocks. Most were names, but this was one that I wasn't real sure about -- could be a nickname I suppose.

This is a desolate stretch of road. When you do see signs of civilization other than the rock memorials, it's like a glimpse of something from the Mad Max movie.

Eventually I reach I10, turn right and see more of the same view. The difference was that I move faster with other traffic and have the feel of being removed from my surroundings. The freeway has this affect on me. It's somewhat like flying low and looking down on my surroundings rather than actually being there in contact with terra firma.

After 20 miles of freeway, I finally see a place to pull off for a potty stop and to fuel up the GS. Chiriaco Summit also happens to be the location of the General Patton Memorial Museum. Even though I don't take the time to pay the $4 entry fee to go inside, I do stop long enough to appreciate the statue and memorial wall.

I find the south entrance to Joshua Tree National Park just before reaching Indio, CA.

Shortly after entering the Park, I learn that the region that I've been riding through is known as the Colorado Desert. But before explorer William P. Blake named it that in 1853, it was known as La Palma de la Mano de Dios--the hollow of God's hand. Seems that someone thought that God must have dry, rough hands.

But in this dry place there can be found an oasis where Indians, cowboys, miners, and pioneers have found a lush escape from the harsh, dry heat, years before modern tourists had the luxury of reading the billboard telling what services were available at the next exit. Truckstops--the modern oasis of freeway travelers.

I wouldn't want to find myself afoot out here even if it is the 'hollow of God's hand'.

The Cholla Catus Garden is home to a species of cactus sometimes called the 'jumping cactus'. They have earned this name by the way that with even from the slightest touch a joint or arm will come of the main cactus body and 'jump' onto the person walking by. I stayed clear. By the look of those barbs, I think my riding gear would only have slowed them down, but not stopped them.

Making my way north through Joshua Park, next I came to these really big granite rocks.

Guess what they call them? JUMBO ROCKS. Imagine that--such a good name. They really are BIG.

I felt like I have stumbled upon a set of the old Star Trek show. I kept thinking I might see Capt. Kirk and the Away Team around the next rock. For those of you that are familiar with the red shirt phenomena, the thought crosses my mind that I am glad I'm not wearing my red jacket.

Making my way from the low desert to the High Desert, I start seeing the namesake of the Park . . . the Joshua Trees. They aren't found in the southern half of the park. Apparently, it's too hot there.

Joshua Trees and Jumbo Rocks

See the strange formation in the sky? Not sure what that was about. Maybe the Away Team beaming back up.

The visitor center on the northwest side of the Park near the town of Joshua Park.

The visitor center on the north side of the Park near Twentynine Palms, CA.

The main street of Twentynine Palms, California. I didn't count them, but there may be 29 palm trees along here.

Joshua Tree, CA 92252

Home for the night is at the High Desert Motel in Joshua Tree, CA.

#147 Needles, CA

2009-04-30T22:48:00.001-04:00

Fleeter Log #147
Needles, CA
2009 April 30

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:

http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 16 - Thursday

April 30, 2009
231 miles

(click on any photo to enlarge)

By the end of the day, this morning's 58 degrees seem like a distant memory.

I get as far as Williams, AZ during the first 10 degree climb in temperature. Williams is an inviting tourist town without too much tacky tourist glitz. I wouldn't mind spending more time exploring what Williams has to offer next time I'm through this way. At least make a lunch stop here, if not an overnight stop. Williams is the terminus for the Grand Canyon Railway (www.TheTrain.com). You can board the Grand Canyon Railway for a scenic round trip ride to the Grand Canyon South Rim. There are also package deals available to include overnight at the Grand Canyon Railway Hotel.

Williams embraces the fact that they are located along old Route 66 and you can see evidence of Route 66 lore throughout town.

Since it was a bit early for me to have lunch in Williams, I asked for a recommendation of a place to eat down the road from the guy washing windshields at the Conoco/Union 76 station. Yes, he was actually offering "full service" to cars fueling up. His suggested Lilo's down the road in Seligman, AZ.

Seligman is another town proud to be along old Route 66.

After eating at Westside Lilo's, I saw this group pull in as I swung back into the saddle. I pulled in next to them as I was ready to head west. They were just getting going on their trip eastward from California to Virginia. The Irony was noted since I left Virginia on my way westward. I gave them my email address, but when I finally heard from them. I scanned past the email thinking I'd return to it later when I was back home from the road. Well, I don't know what happened to the email, but I can't find it. So if you are in this photo, please email me again. Really. I would like to hear from you and I will do better if I get another chance.

By the time I reached Kingman AZ, the temperature was warming up to 83 degrees. But that will feel downright cool compared to what I find down the road.

Mural in Kingman, AZ.

This is where the weather takes a sharp turn up the temperature gauge.

Just like riding into a furnace.

By the time I reach Bullhead City, AZ the mercury was pushing up northward of 98 degrees! The stop and go traffic as I made my way through the city stoplights, took a toll on me. I stopped at a Walgreens and bought two bottles of Gatorade and I didn't save them for later. One was gone by the time I made it back to the GS. I took a couple bottles of water and poured the water over myself as I worked on the second Gatorade while standing next to the GS. Since there was no shade in the parking lot, I didn't dally much. I thought it would be cooler if I could just get out of town to an open roadway where I could get some speed up to help cool me down.

By the time I crossed the Colorado River into Needles, California it was 6pm. I couldn't resist taking a side trip down to the river.

Some neighborhood kids were finding some relief from the heat by taking a swim in the river. I was tempted, but didn't want to shock them by stripping down to my base layer for a dip.

So instead of taking a dip in the Colorado River, I take back to the gravel road to find my way to a motel in Needles.

Home for the night will be the Days Inn in Needles, CA. But before settling in for the evening, I decide to let it cool off a bit (a drop to 90 degrees at 7pm) then head out to find a sit down meal. I also decide to ride back into Arizona for a fuel fill up. Make note: Gasoline is MUCH MORE EXPENSIVE in California! I'll be in California for awhile and will have to pay the higher prices soon enough, but I think I'll but it off for one more tank. So on my way to supper, I slip back into Arizona to contribute to their economy.

Tomorrow: I go in search of Joshua Trees.

#146 Standing on a Corner in Winslow, Arizona

2009-04-29T23:24:00.020-04:00

Fleeter Log #146

Standing on a Corner in Winslow AZ

2009 April 29

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:

http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 15 - Wednesday
April 29, 2009
243 miles

Even though I tend to shun most tourist trap type places, who can travel through the Indian Nation without stopping at least one Indian Store? This is my obligatory stop.

Inside were all type rocks for sale, most from this area, but some from across the country. I spotted a petosky stone on a shelf that is native only to the Lake Michigan shores of northern Michigan. (see the end of Fleeter Log #131).

While browsing the typical wares found in touristy places, I overheard the owner/manager speaking with a salesman. She was browsing a catalog and I overheard her ask if he had any wolf designs on a particular item as she explained to him that her customers think the wolf is very "Indian" and often asks for such. This just struck me as funny that the Indian Store orders their stock to satisfy the tourists' idea of what they think is "Indian stuff."

There were some items specifically marked as "Indian Made" and these were the items from which I made my selections. I wasn't interested in traveling to Arizona to buy something "Made in China" just because it fit my preconception of what "is Indian."

After leaving Chee's Indian Store on the Navajo Nation, I scooted about 40 miles west on I40 to the Petrified Forest National Park. This area has over 13,000 years of human history from prehistoric peoples to the early explorers and even more recent history of Route 66 as it traveled through showing more modern humans the way west from Chicago.

The Painted Desert Inn was first built in 1924 and has served as a restaurant and inn. In 2006 the renovation was complete returning it to its 1949 appearance and it currently serves the Park as a museum and bookstore.

There are many places to pull over for a better look at the Painted Desert.

A remnant of days gone by and a reminder that the original Route 66 passed this way.

Once upon a time, many, many years ago a forest grew here. All that is left are petrified logs. As the earth erodes around them, the logs are left on the surface.

I drove the 20+ mile loop of the park which put me at the park's south side exit onto US180. I rode the few miles into Holbrook where I took a quick look around town before jumping onto I40 to continue my way west.

Joe & Aggies Cafe is a very tempting place get a bite to eat, but I want to keep moving. Hopefully another place with such character will pop up later today when I'm hungry. I'll put this on the list for next time.

Every Eagles fan and most anyone else has heard of Winslow, Arizona.

Jackson Browne wrote the song with Glenn Frey and the Eagles sung the 1972 hit. It was on the Eagle's debut album and the first single released by the iconic band. See the eagle in the first window?

(click on an photo to enlarge)

Thought I'd "take it easy" while standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona.

You'll even find the Flat Bed Ford parked near the corner.

I starting getting hungry with all that "standing on the corner" and decided to find a place before leaving town. Just a few blocks over this looked like just the ticket: the Brown Mug Cafe.

I can't stop myself. The tune is stuck in my helmet. I sing it, I whistle it. I hum it. I hear it for the next 70 miles. II call it a night at the Sleep Inn in Flagstaff, Arizona and go to sleep with the Eagles still playing in my head.

Tomorrow:
It's not just a rumor. Needles, California really can get HOT.

#145 Canyon de Chelly

2009-04-28T20:53:00.015-04:00

Fleeter Log #145
Canyon de Chelly
2009 April 28

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 14 - Tuesday
April 28, 2009
182 miles
Since I haven't had any luck personally making contact with aliens or other world intelligence, today I will go exploring people of the past right here on Earth. I saddle up under sunny skies and a cool 43 degrees -- wonderful riding weather. Only the blowing wind might give me weather issues today.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

I leave New Mexico and ride into Arizona. By crossing this state line, I complete coloring the map of the lower 48 states. In April of 2006, I crossed my first state line by motorcycle. Three years later I achieve my goal of visiting all the lower 48 contiguous states. Maybe someday I will add Alaska to this list, but not this year. After 66,000 miles of wandering around the US over the last 3 years, I have managed to color in this map.

Many people ask me how it is that I can travel across the country on a motorcycle by myself. They are curious of the challenges I face as a solo female rider traveling alone across different geography, climates, etc. Let me take this moment to share with all the Fleeter Log readers what very well may be my biggest challenge: Time. More specifically, what time is it?

I find it hard enough to deal with time changes as I cross time zones, but when other complications enter the equation, I for most part just give up. Time Zones often confuse me enough that I arrive at visitor centers after they've closed. Seldom do I see a sign telling me when I am entering a different time zone. Signs would be helpful. Even when I know that I am crossing a time zone line, the problem is not automatically solved. Now I have to think about if we are in Daylight Savings Time (DST) or not. Next I have to determine if the State line I just crossed put me in a state that does or doesn't observe DST. So maybe I didn't cross into a different Time Zone . . . yet, but the time still shifted an hour because the state line I just crossed put me into a state that doesn't observe DST. But did time jump forward an hour or behind an hour? Then maybe 50 miles into that same state I cross into a new Time Zone. So did I just jump another hour ahead? Or did I lose the hour that I just gained and hour ago? Or did I just recoup the hour I lost 50 miles ago? Or did I lose another hour on top of the hour I lost when I crossed the state line? Whatever all those answers are to the above questions, now reverse them. When I change directions start meeting the sun as it travels across the sky rather than chase it the answers are different. So you think I'm just a bit slow when it comes to word problems in math? Maybe I am, but can you still do the logical math if you are traveling during those two perplexing mornings a year when we wake up reciting to ourselves a rhyme we learned as kids: Spring spring forward, Fall fallback. Then checking the clocks trying to determine if they need manually changing or are they the new smart clock that knows to adjust itself.

This may not be the kind of challenge that inquiring minds were thinking of when they pose to me the question of my traveling challenges. But this is my answer: Without a doubt, Time. What time is it?

Why do I bring this up now? New Mexico does observe DST, Arizona does not observe DST, The Navajo Nation does observe DST, the Hopi Nation does not observe DST (the Hopi Nation is entirely surrounded by the Navajo Nation. Part of the Navajo Nation is in AZ, NM, and UT.) Today I will be in NM, AZ, NN, HN, back to NM, then back to AZ. I will lose count by mid-afternoon how many times I would have to change my watch . . . if I wore one.

It's easier for me to just ask the motel clerk as I check in, "What time is it?" And if I get the simple answer like "ten til" then I'll just bluntly ask, "til what?" And, I will try to schedule any stops at visitor centers for the middle of the day and hope they don't close for lunch.

The Navajo Nation tries to help those of us that are time-keeper challenged.

My first stop today is in Arizona at the Hubbell Trading Post National Historic Site. This trading post was operated by the Hubbell family from 1878 to 1967 when it was sold to the National Park Service. NPS ink stamp collected here.

Leaving the Hubbell Trading Post, I enjoy a nice ride along US191 until the wind whips up a nasty sand storm. That's not so much fun when riding a motorcycle.

Canyon de Chelly visitor center is to the northwest of Chinle.

Another NPS ink stamp collected here.

I parked by an obvious reminder that I was currently in an area observing Daylight Savings Time.

Canyon de Chelly is the home to preserved ruins of the early indigenous Pueblo and Navajo tribes that lived in the area over 800 years ago.

In search of a better view down into the Canyon, I parked the GS and find a scenic trail leading to the rim of the Canyon. On my way from the parking lot to the scenic trail, I passed an area were the locals had blankets spread out on the ground with their items displayed for sale to the tourists. In an attempt to help the local economy, I stop to see what they have that I might need. The answer was obvious.

Among the jewelry and pottery, I found just the thing for the GS: Navajo Ghost Beads. These beads are made of Cedar Berry seeds and strung as necklaces, anklets, and bracelets sometimes being combined with colorful plastic or metal beads. These are traditionally worn by the Navajo children to keep away evil spirits. Some motorcycle riders use a gremlin bell for similar such purposes. The GS has gone native and wears the Navajo Ghost beads with confidence.

I continued around the north rim of the Canyon as I head back east toward New Mexico on BIA12, passing a couple small lakes along the way. This small picnic area iss the perfect place to pull over for a snack and a drink. Some moments are just too good to simply ride by; they need a bit more time to soak it all in for full enjoyment.

I continue south on BIA12 to Window Rock, AZ where I stop for the night at the Quality Inn.

Tomorrow: I find a corner to stand on in Winslow, AZ.

#144 VLA

2009-04-27T23:15:00.006-04:00

Fleeter Log #144
VLA
2009 April 27

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 13 - Monday
April 27, 2009
264 miles
I can't imagine that I was the only guest staying at the Super 8 in Socorro, NM overnight, but I didn't see any other travelers last night or this morning. Maybe it's a sign of the ailing economy or maybe everyone else arrived really late and got an extra early start this morning, but I doubt it. And I don't think it's a commentary on the hospitality of the Super 8. The hotel has been very hospitable during my stay. I have plans for an early lunch, but I feel guilty that I am not eating more of the breakfast that seems to be laid out just for me. I see no one else, other than the breakfast host. She is very attentive to my meager needs as I pour my coffee and select a rather tasty blueberry muffin. The host insists on bagging up several more muffins for me to pack along today in case I get hungry down the road. Of course, I accepted. I hate to think that so much food may go to waste. Besides, they are really good muffins.

While preparing the GS to roll, I chat a bit with the two housekeeping staff sitting on the bench taking a smoke break. Apparently, they are waiting for me to leave so they can get into my room to do their job. Since one of them has lived in Socorro her whole life and the other has been here for the last 20 years, I asked them of the origin of the name of their city. They were quick with the answer; Socorro is Spanish for the word 'help.' When I asked if the 'help' was being offered or asked for, they were at a loss for further information. However, I found the answer on a New Mexico history plaque on the edge of town. Seems that over 400 years ago the 'help' was being offered to Spanish settlers after they traveled across the desert arriving near here in 1598. The Piro Pueblo Indians offered the weary and ailing travelers food and water after they survived the Jornada del Muerto (Journey of the Dead), a particularly difficult 100 mile stretch of desert.
As I roll into the desert on the GS, I think of the blueberry muffins tucked into the GS topcase. The giving spirit is still alive and well in Socorro today.

Over 100 years ago these stockyards were the happening place in Magdalena, NM. Ranchers would drive their cattle and sheep up to 125 miles to the these shipping pens to be loaded onto railcars for delivery to the eastern markets. These shipping yards stayed in use until Santa Fe closed the rail line in 1971.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

History is still alive, at least in name, just outside of town. Cowboy Action Shootouts happen two times a month at high noon (brief history here). Magdalena Trail Drivers Cowboy Action Shooters

Anyone familiar with the 1997 movie, Contact, might already know about this next place between Magdalena and Datil, NM on US 60. This is where Jodie Foster's character received first contact from other world life forms.

The Very Large Array (VLA) is one of the world's foremost astronomical radio observatories.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

Each large radio antennae weighs over 200 tons and is moved using specially built rails. There are 27 antennae spread out over three arms forming a Y. Each arm of the Y is 13 miles long. Their configuration varies and is changed every 3 to 4 months. They are in the B configuration today. The largest configuration is Configuration A where the telescopes are stretched over the full length of each axis arm and simulates a single dish that is over 22 miles in diameter. The smallest is Configuration D when they are within .4 mile of the center in a tight pattern.

Anyone visiting might want to remember that this is the high desert. The temperature was a sunny 53 degrees during my visit--just right in my opinion, but possibly cool for some, especially if the sun isn't shining.

The VLA visitor center is open until sunset and has a very informative video to show those wanting to learn more about the big dishes of the desert.

Visitors are allowed to take a walk to get a close up view of the antennae. I took the walk. Each antenna is 82 feet in diameter. A baseball diamond could fit inside the dish.

While I was under the shade of the dish, I heard a hum and the gears started moving. How cool to be right under the antennae dish as it starts changing direction to tune in a different section of the sky.

The Continental Divide is always a significant landmark as one travels across the country from one coast to the opposite coast.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

All this talk of dishes is making me hungry . . . hungry for PIE. Good thing Pie Town is just down the road! Where else would one go to find the best pie? Pie Town, NM!

The Daily Pie Cafe in Pie Town, NM. But do you notice how empty the parking lot is? Seems that my plans are going afoul. The Daily Pie is closed on Mondays! But I have a backup plan as I turn back down the road and across the highway.

The other local competitor in Pie Town -- PIE-O-NEER. But criminey! They are closed too! What is this?! I ride all the way to Pie Town, NM for PIE, and there is no pie to be had in town? Shouldn't there be an economic law or something that says that one of the two pie places in Pie Town must remain open for travelers wanting pie? I would think it wouldn't be that hard to come up with a schedule where they alternate days off.

I feel the need to file a formal complaint, but there's no Mayor's office or any sort of city offices since Pie Town is unincorporated. So I head to the only official looking place in town. The Pie Town Post Office. The other option was the mechanic's garage.

I lodge my complaint with these local folks. They both agree with me about "there ought to be a rule," but shake their heads as they confirm what I had already concluded; no pie for me today in Pie Town.

Guess I'll have to come back another time to PIE TOWN. But not on a Monday.

The Narrows: Northbound on NM117 heading toward Grants, NM. The Narrows is so named because the road is squeezed through a narrow corridor between the black lava flows of El Malpais and the sandstone cliffs of the Cebollita Mesa.

La Ventana Trail leading to one of New Mexico's largest natural arches. I take a muffin, a bottle of water, and my camera from the topcase of the GS, then start my short hike for a better look.

Nice close-up views of the sandstone cliffs that I've been riding past as I travel through The Narrows on highway 117.

The natural arch carved out of the sandstone.

Before I left, a pickup pulled up and a conversation was struck up as often happens. This chance encounter lasted over 30 minutes and left me with a good feeling about people. I meet so many folks across the USA and some interactions are just more special than others. It's always energizing to meet folks that leave me with a positive energy even hours after the chance encounter. I'm sorry that I didn't think to snap a photo of Bruce and MJ before we parted ways in search of our own stories.

El Malpais National Monument
"El Malpais" means "the badlands" in Spanish and there's no doubt how the area got its name. You can see the ancient lava flow on the basin floor. The Park covers over 350,000 acres and much of it is covered with the lava flow making travel on the basin a very difficult venture.

Crossing the Continental Divide again. This time in Continental Divide, NM.

I finally arrive at my target stop for the night . . . The El Rancho Hotel in Gallup, NM. This hotel has a lot of history and is full of character. It is where the movie stars stayed back in the 1940s during the filming of the western movies in the area.

Tomorrow: I gain the protection of the Navajo ghost beads.

#143 Smokey of the Capitans

2009-04-26T01:59:00.005-04:00

Fleeter Log #143

Smokey of the Capitans

2009 April 26

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:

http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 12 - Sunday
April 26, 2009
206 miles
Giving up on the search for aliens in Roswell, I thought it time to saddle up and continue my westward trek. It's after 12noon by the time I choose the lesser traveled road of NM246 rather than US380 to take me out of town. Both would serve to get me west, but how could I pass up this road. I saw a total of three vehicles in the 77 miles to Capitan, NM.

Much of the way, I have the El Capitan Mountains as a far off target on the lonely flat stretch of asphalt.

Capitan, NM offers travelers respite and a chance to visit the burial site of the original Smokey Bear.

Smokey was so named after a firefighter found him orphaned by a forest fire in the Capitan Mountains in May of 1950. The fire spared his life, but left the five pound cub with burned paws and no home. He went to live in a zoo in Washington, DC for 26 years, but in death was returned to Capitan to be buried near the mountain where he started his life.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

While stopping to learn about the original Smokey Bear in Capitan, I saw a Vstrom pass by that I had first spotted almost 100 miles ago at the Walmart on my way out of Roswell. Then I saw him again fueling up at the Shell station on the west side of Capitan. I pull and in say hello to my fellow two-wheeled traveler from the east. He rode from West Virginia and is headed to Silver City for the night. Leaving the green pines of Capitan, I led the way while the Vstrom rider followed me across the flat expanse as we passed to the north of the White Sands Missile Range.

When I saw the sign for the Buckhorn, I was reminded that I had read that it has a good reputation as a burger joint. I made a u-turn and pulled in with Vstrom rider seemingly in tow. When he heard my explanation for the stop, he agreed that it was good time to eat and this looked as good as any place. We were disappointed when the riders sitting in the shade called out to us that the Buckhorn was closed today. The other burger joint in town, Owl Bar (also with a good burger reputation), was also closed. No burgers in San Antonio today for us. He turned south on I25 and I turned back through town for a couple more photos.

San Antonio, NM is known in history as the place where Conrad Hilton got his start in the hospitality business. As a young boy he carried travelers' luggage from the train station to his family's hotel. San Antonio isn't a big place. What you see is the whole town. If you look closely, you can almost see the windmill on the other side of town where I took the above photo.

I turned north onto I26 and went just a short 10 miles up the road to the Super 8 where I would lay my head for the night. But before finding the Super 8, I found the Old San Miguel Mission of Socorro, NM.

I stop early tonight since tomorrow I have a long day planned -- not in miles, but in planned stops. The K-Bob next to the hotel takes care of me meal-wise. Not high on character like I supposed the Buckhorn to be, but open for business and within walking distance of my room. There's always trade-offs.

Tomorrow: Will I make "contact"?

#142 Aliens in Roswell?

2009-04-25T23:13:00.021-04:00

Fleeter Log #142
Aliens in Roswell?
2009 April 24-25

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 10 - 11, Friday & Saturday
April 24-25, 2009
31 miles

At 8:30am I'm riding back into Roswell in search of aliens and feeling a bit heady with the anticipation.
It doesn't take long to find signs of aliens, but no actual aliens. If they are here, they are being a bit elusive.
I decide that the best place to learn the story behind the Roswell Incident would be to visit the Museum and Research Center, but it doesn't open until 9am.
So I spot a coffee shop across the street and decide a cup of coffee is in order.
I saw these two suspects loitering across the street and thought I spotted an alien for sure, but upon closer inspection see that they are the blow up kind of aliens for sale in the store. Close, but not what I'm looking for.
I try to mix with the locals and not make any sudden moves as I drink my coffee. Maybe if I blend in with the local fabric and pay close attention to my surroundings, I'll spy a real alien.
No luck in finding an alien while watching the street traffic pass by the coffee shop. Time to be more proactive. I'll pay my money like a good tourist and do my hunting in the UFO Museum and Research Center.

If there are Close Encounters of the Third Kind, then it would stand to reason that there are Close Encounters of the First and Second Kind. What are they?

Close Encounters of the First Kind: Sighting of one or more UFOs at a distance of 500 feet or less.
Close Encounters of the Second Kind: Sighting of a UFO with associated physical effects (e.g. heat, electrical interference, etc).
Close Encounters of the Third Kind: Sighting of an actual animated being (presumably an alien).

Story goes that in early July of 1947, something crashed in a remote area north of Roswell. The debris field is strewn for miles over two counties. The debris material was of a substance never before seen by those that found it or other locals that studied it. But the military was interested. Real Interested. They secured the area, combing and clearing the entire area -- removing any debris left behind from the crash. The government went to a lot of trouble to clean a up a very large crash site cause by . . . a weather balloon?
http://roswellproof.homestead.com/index.html

So the question is: Was there a Close Encounter of the Third kind near Roswell, New Mexico in July of 1947? Well now, that is the question, isn't it? The debate has gone on for years and will probably never be settled to everyone's satisfaction.

Since there is no proof in the museum . . . like an alien swimming in a pickling solution, the debate rages on. Alien or weather balloon? Does it really matter? The point is . . . The question exists!

The whole town of Roswell seems to have been bitten by the Alien Bug. And just think, until 12 or 13 years ago Roswell was not associated with aliens in the commercial way that is evident today. Up until the 50th Anniversary of the Roswell Incident, this bit of Roswell's past had been successfully swept under the rug of history and the details obscured by time (with help from the government) . . . even most of Roswell's own residents had never heard the story or were afraid to repeat it. But after the U.S. Air Force published its "final report" of what happened in July 1947, the debate was fired up again. Now everyone in town knows the story. Some believe, some don't. But everyone knows the story.

Stan Crosby, organizer of the original UFO Encounter of 1997 states, "We're not blessed with an incredible beach or gorgeous mountains. We had a UFO or balloon crash, and if it was balloon crash, then it was the most famous balloon crash in the world. . . . We have taken lemons and made lemonade out of it, besides when was the last time Roswell was on the cover of Time magazine? People will complain that it's over commercialized, but at least they're spelling Roswell right in all of these newspapers and now the entire world knows about our town."

Twelve years later . . .Roswell is still known for the Roswell Incident: The place where alien life forms may have crash landed on earth in the summer of 1947.

Once upon a time the location of the New Mexico Military Institute was what people knew Roswell for.

The way Roswell described itself before the Alien Invasion.

Hmmm . . . I wonder if there WERE aliens flying around in UFOs, if they would find it interesting that an earthling was conducting experiments of liquid fuel rocket flights in Roswell and find it worthy of a fly-by visit? Ummm, I wonder . . .
Did I mention that there was a storm the night of the crash?

Once upon a time, many years ago in a place called Goliad in the land of Texas, I had a close friend named Sheila Keith. We became friends during our high school years and though I was born and raised in Goliad, Sheila and her family were Okies that found themselves in South Texas as her Dad was a trucker in the oil business. Sheila's time in Goliad was only a short two years, but the friendship sealed there has lasted over thirty years. Today I will see Sheila again for the first time since 1985. While living in Roswell with her family, Sheila met a local boy that she took a shine to. When her Dad was transferred and it was time for the family to move once again, Sheila decided to stay in Roswell and marry her beau, Hub Corn.

I'm still a bit heady even after touring the UFO Museum. Maybe it isn't the anticipation of finding an alien, but the anticipation of seeing a good friend again after many years.

Sheila hasn't changed much in 24 years. She is still the same bubbly girl though now a mother of three grown children and the matriarch of the Eden Valley Farm north of Roswell, NM. I will spend the next couple of days with Sheila and her family on the Eden Valley Farm.

The road to the family home is a few miles of gravel. The GS felt right at home. It was obviously more prepared for that type of route than I. But since the surface is well maintained, I manage with no problems. The GS showed me the way.
The next day Sheila shows me around the farm. It's lamb birthing time in New Mexico. This new-born lamb is just minutes old. Mama Ewe isn't so sure about us getting this close, but good thing we did. The lamb was lying with it's neck bent back in a way that blocked it's airway. Sheila repositioned it and the lamb started breathing again. It even raised its head for the photo. She saved it's life . . . another day on the ranch.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

After saying hello to some of the new lambs (over twenty were born just today), Sheila takes me on a private tour. This time we aren't checking on the sheep, cattle, or horses. She has something a bit more unusual in mind to show me.

We head about 20 miles up the road, through a few gates and across a few cattle guards.

We finally arrive at a remote place located over ten miles from the public highway. It just might be one of the most unique places in the history of the earth.

Sheila explains: Her husband, Hub, says he didn't know about this special location when his family bought the property in 1976, and only found out after a bunch of strangers started showing up and traipsing around in the early 1990s. Hub had been finding a growing evidence of trespassing. Thinking there may be drug activity happening on his property, he notified a local LEO to keep an eye out. A few days later the LEO contacted Hub with his findings. Hub didn't believe what he was hearing at first, but it did make sense. Apparently, this location had been made public by those who were researching what occurred in Roswell many years ago. According to the researchers, one stormy night in July of 1947 an unidentified craft traveling at a high rate of speed skipped over the flat plains of Lincoln and Chaves counties and eventually came to an abrupt halt when hitting the limestone wall you see in the photo. The stone pillars have been erected by those who believe, showing the flight path they think the craft took when it crashed that night.

In front of the place where the believers determined that the aliens met their doom is a large stone tablet that reads:

"We don't know who they were
We don't know why they came
We only know they changed our view of the universe

This universal sacred site
is dedicated July 1997
to the beings
who met their destinies
near Roswell, New Mexico
July 1947"

(click on any photo to enlarge)

In the still remoteness of the location, one can just about imagine how it may have happened that night 60 years ago.

The truth is out there.

Do you believe?

#141 Trading Saddles

2009-04-23T23:05:00.008-04:00

Fleeter Log #141
Trading Saddles
2009 April 22-23

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 8 - Wednesday
April 22, 2009
0 miles

This is what my view from the saddle looks like today. Its been a long time since I've had this view.

My ride for the day.

After some arena work to give the horses a good workout in the sand, Donna and I leave the barns behind and head to open pasture.

We find a fence line to ride, because that's where we ran out of trail.

Something just looks out of place here . . . Oh, I know what it is.
Wrong name on the spurs. I was borrowing Donna's spurs.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

I don't think the GS looks completely out of place here. The GS has the kind of personality that fits into many different settings!

As the sun went down, Donna and I went out to Jerry's Hill to honor Jerry's memory and enjoy a view he always liked.

It's been an emotional day. Spending time in the saddle (while horseback) and at Jerry's place, brought back a lot of memories of my elder brother. It was the first time I'd been back to Hereford since his funeral in 2004.
Emotional, but still a good day!

Day 9 - Thursday
April 23, 2009
181 miles

(click on any photo to enlarge)

After one more visit to The Ranch House Restaurant for the lunch buffet, I pack up to leave town . . . My advice: If you are ever hungry when in Hereford Texas, eat here. Good food, small price.
. . . and say goodbye to my new friend, Molly the Cow Dog, before pulling out to continue my westward trek.

Anyone looking for a RTE destination and having a hankering for a Texas Cheeseburger, might want to try the Biggest Small Town in Texas . . . Friona. Word is that they know something of cheeseburgers here.

I cross into the Land of Enchantment . . . and another state gets its color.

I suppose no place is perfect, but Portales, NM doesn't try to hide the fact that not all their population is the friendliest sort.

I saw a lot of road like this on my way from Texas to Roswell. At least it was overcast with a hint of showers in the area holding the high temperature to a reasonable 85 degrees.

I found these ruins of an old school house not too far down a dirt road off US70 NE of Roswell.

Arriving in Roswell, there is no doubt that there is an alien connection to the town.
Some obvious signs, and some not so obvious.

After making a pass through town, I make my way to a friend's house that I met through the MTF for the night.

Tomorrow I will look for more aliens . . .

#140 Moonshine to Texas

2009-04-21T23:31:00.014-04:00

Fleeter Log #140
Moonshine to Texas
2009 April 19-21

Moonshine was only the beginning of the adventure.
The Great Southwest is calling. I am answering.
Westward I shall go!

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 5 - Sunday
April 19, 2009
365 miles

(click on any photo to enlarge)

I leave Casey, Il in the rain and find the thunderstorm somewhere in Missouri. But just before leaving the State of Illinois, the sun came out as if to say "Goodbye and travel well. We will spend some quaility time together when you arrive in the Southwest!"

While traveling south along the Mississippi River, waiting for an anvenue across the big muddy stream, I rode a strip of pavement that offered a 2 for 1 bonus. State highways 3 and 146 meet at Ware and wear the labels of "the Lincoln Heritage Trail" and "Great River Road-Illinios."

After crossing the Mississippi River at Cape Girardeau, I ride into the eastern edge of the Ozarks covered by dark skies.
Note how I am able to take this shot right-handed -- thanks to a fellow moonshiner. Before leaving Casey this morning, I met a fellow under the hotel's portico as a group of us were looking for protection from the rain while loading up our motorcycles. He gave me something that I, at the time, had no idea of its value. I knew it was a Good Thing, but I had no idea HOW good. I always use a Crampbuster, even on the RT where I have a cruise control. But on the GS, without a cruise control, the Crampbuster alone just wasn't cutting it. There was still the need to completely remove my hand from the throttle in order to stretch out my elbow. In only two days when riding from Virginia to Indiana, I was already beginning to feel the effects in my elbow and shoulder of all day spent on the throttle. This little yellow o-ring from Caterpillar will prove to be worth far more than the silicone it is made from! Thanks to the fellow who gave it to me. I wish I could remember your name . . . sorry.

Hwy 34 from Cape Girardeau to US60 near Van Buren is a wonderful gem of a twisty road that travels through Marble Falls as it transverses the Salem Plateau of the Ozarks. This is the kind of road that makes the day on two wheels a success no matter what else the day may bring before coming to an end.

I WILL get wet before the day is over! . . . that is a promise made by the looming dark clouds.

Carter County Missouri has an interesting courthouse . . . found in Van Buren.

Anyone traveling US60 in southern Missouri, be advised: State troopers spend a lot of time there with radar guns! And yes, even the GS is ticket worthy . . . according to a certain Missouri State Trooper patrolling US60 near Van Buren. And trying to outrun an eminent storm is not a worthy excuse, or so I'm told by said trooper.

Tonight I will dry out in Willow Springs, MO and continue my way to Oklahoma via Kansas tomorrow.

Day 6 - Monday
April 20, 2009
420 miles

On my way to Texas, I arrive in Texas sooner than planned!
Texas County, Missouri

Here in Mount Vernon, MO you will have more than your normal choices when you stop for fuel. Yep, that was a fill-up. And this will get me about 200 miles down the road before I'll need to stop and do it again.

Time to stop in search of Ink. Wilson's Creek National Battlefield is found on an inviting rural road southwest of Springfield, MO.

I find another ink stamp here at the George Washington Carver National Monument. Good video too.

We don't see these much anymore. Might already even have to explain what it is to the younger generations. Let me know if anyone reading this doesn't know what you're looking at or shares it with a younger reader that needs to have it explained. I spotted this booth in Coffeyville, KS.

Leaving Missouri, I ride half way across Kansas before turning south in Caldwell, KS to drop into Oklahoma. This stretch of pavement follows along the Chisholm Trail. I will follow it as far as Enid, OK.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

The sun sinks low along the old Chisholm Trail.

This ride has carried me deep into the heart of Braum's Country. This evening, I indulge.
Tonight I sleep in Enid, OK. Tomorrow I cross back into the land of my birth . . . Texas.

Day 7 - Tuesday
April 21, 2009
372 miles
Ink is on the list of priorities as I make my way across Oklahoma and into the Black Kettle National Grassland. The Washita Battlefield lies just outside of Cheyenne, Oklahoma. This new visitor center opened less than two years ago and is impressive in the story it tells through its architecture. The video is well worth the time to watch it. Captivating in telling the tragic story of what happened here.

The GS takes on a few miles of the infamous Route 66 as we find our way west along I40. Route 66 shows some of its oddities as we pass through.

Speaking of oddities, I still don't understand my last stop in Oklahoma. I took the exit off I40 into downtown Erick and found the Sandhills Curiosity Shop located in the City Meat Market. It is a curious place that can't really be explained. Don't look for any price tags. Nothing here is for sale. It's not that kind of shop.

The oft photographed Leaning Tower of the Texas Panhandle.

Meet my nephew, Layton. He's a student at West Texas A&M University in Canyon, TX. I arrive in town hungry and met Layton at the restaurant near the University. His Aunt Donna (my late brother Jerry's wife) drives in from Hereford to meet us for supper.

After supper, I follow Donna back to Hereford as the sun sinks below the horizon.
Tomorrow I will let the GS spend the day resting while I try out a different saddle . . . the type of saddle I used to spend a lot of time in when I was growing up in south Texas.

#139 Moonshine Lunch Run

2009-04-18T23:36:00.004-04:00

Fleeter Log #139
Moonshine Lunch Run
2009 April 15-18

It's April, so it's Moonshine Time again! Time for riders far and near to answer the call to join Terry Hammond for lunch in Moonshine, Illinois where the hamburgers are made one at a time with love by Helen and her crew at the Moonshine General Store.

5th Annual Moonshine Lunch Run (MLR)

Since this event started in 2005, the number of riders responding to the call has grown from 30 attending the first MLR to over 600 riding to southern Illinois this year to have a moonburger with Terry.

This will be my third year to join in the camaraderie.

Interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=1229

Day 1 - Wednesday
April 15, 2009
405 miles

(click on any photo to enlarge)

I started rolling at 11:00am and headed westward in a misty drizzle. This will be the first trip out of state for the F650GS twin. I've had it for 8 months and have only taken it on a few short trips within Virginia. The last few months I've spent coming up with ways to personalize the GS to serve as a long distant rider.

Some changes you may notice are the taller touring windscreen with a support bar to mount the GPS onto, FendaExtender, crashbars, bash plate, aerostich panniers, Hawkeoiler, etc.

This trip will only be starting when I reach Moonshine IL. From there, I will continue my way to Texas, Southern California, Utah, and back home through Ohio before arriving back home in mid-May. With the wet weather and temps in the 40s, I will be wearing my BMG jacket and carrying my mesh jacket strapped to my duffle.
Today is just about getting down the road, closer to Illinois. There won't be any photos to share or stories worth telling. It is an uneventful ride through Virginia, West Virginia, and into Kentucky.

I arrive in Grayson, Kentucky at 6:40pm and check-in to the Quality Inn. After getting the GS unloaded, I have supper next door at Long John Silvers. Tomorrow I will begin Flower Sniffin' as I find the back roads to Moonshine.

Day 2 - Thursday
April 16, 2009
380 miles

(click on any photo to enlarge)

I thoroughly enjoyed highway 10 from Vanceburg, KY to I75. It's like being on a kiddie roller coaster for about 80 miles through rural Kentucky. I love these kind of roads! Not any still photos along here . . . Maybe I'm still in a "no photo mode" left over from yesterday or maybe I am concentrating on getting to know the GS and not thinking so much about photos. I did make a couple movie clips using the RAM mount on the handlebar. I may add a video clip here later. But trust me, KY10 is a great little back road!

Madison, KY sets on the banks of the Ohio River along the Kentucky-Indiana state line. I spent enough time in Madison to find the river walk area and stop for a few photos.

The river walk area of Madison, Indiana.

Highway 7 leaves Madison heading north gaining elevation as it twists its way past a nice waterfall.

After passing through Columbus and Bloomington Indiana, I cross another state line into Illinois at Hutsonville on highway 154 and find my way to hwy 2 to Annapolis, Illinois.

The sun is shining and I've NEVER SEEN MOONSHINE IN THE SUNLIGHT. So I decide to ride by and see what the Moonshine General Store looks like with the sun shining on it and an empty parking lot.

Helen and Roy of Moonshine fame. They live above the store and came down to say hello when they saw the VA license plate. They knew that it must be someone arriving early for the "rush on moonburgers" planned for Saturday. Helen said she's expecting a large crowd since the weather is nice this year (for a first) and she's ready!

I gave Helen a hug and told her I'd be back Saturday for my moonburger, then continued my way to Casey where Terry was hosting a cookout in his backyard for those arriving early.

It's a good thing Terry has a huge yard! I'm not sure how many showed up, but I know it was too many for me to actually meet everyone there. The motorcycles were lined up along the street in front of his house and stretched around the corner, down the side street and all the way to the next cross street! What I'm trying to say is . . . there were a lot of motorcycles and people there! As I made a U-turn and came back to the end of the side street a 1/2 block from his back yard, folks were coming up talking to me before I could even get my kickstand down. The party was in full swing when I arrived, but there was plenty food left and I eventually made my way to it. I saw a lot of friends and met even more.

It's after 9:00pm when I arrive at the Comfort Inn of Casey (host hotel) where I have reservations for the next three nights. The hotel's 52 rooms are totally booked up and I'd venture to say that 99.8% of their customers for the next few days are friends of Terry Hammond. And if you know Terry, you will understand the significance of that important percentage designation.

Day 3 - Friday
April 17, 2009
51 miles

The next couple days will be minimal mileage days. I'll only ride to join Moonshine friends for meals. Today's lunch is being served to us by the Stovepipe Restaurant at the Lincoln Springs Resort in Charleston, IL. We have the entire backroom reserved and they are set up to feed us using a buffet line. Choices are limited, but what's presented to us is excellent.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

Me, riding with some of my Goldwinger friends through the back roads of Coles & Clark Counties of Illinois.

(photo of me by Ray Williams of Alabama)

On the way back to Casey, I stopped at the Oilfield Store on highway 40 about 5 miles north of I70. This is another small local grill with a reputation for good burgers. I'll have to try them one of the days when I return to the area.

My good friends, Pat and Greg of Kentucky, showed up to collect a bonus as they participated in the Cape Fear 1000 Rally. To collect the bonus, they had to ride to Casey, IL and take a photo with Terry Hammond holding their rally flag at Richard's Farm Restaurant during a two hour time window. They arrived early and came by the hotel to say hello to moonshiners. I was happy to see them!

The Friday night's meal is the main gathering where the most of us will be at one place at the same time and Terry takes this opportunity to thank everyone for joining him for the weekend. He also has cool little engraved metal awards he gives to those riders that traveled the farthest to join him for a moonburger. I got one for being in the Top 50. Last year I was in the Top 25 Long Distance Riders. Goes to show how many more riders from farther away have shown up this year. If Terry isn't careful, this MLR thing just might grow into a huge affair! umh! Ya think?!

Arriving for the Friday night supper at Richard's Farm Restaurant.

Day 4 - Saturday
April 18, 2009
30 miles

Finally! The day has arrived. How many moonburgers do you think Helen will sell today? A good answer would be . . . A WHOLE LOT OF THEM!

The line of hungry moonies.

Helen works on the honor system at Moonshine. You go order you burger, watch as they make it, go to the counter and tell Helen what you're paying for. She or her helper (today she has lot's of helpers) ring you up. I let her know that I would also grab a cola and a bag of chips on my way out to the picnic tables.

Here I am sharing a chuckle with our guy, Terry Hammond. I waited in line for over 40 minutes for my chance at a moonburger. When this photo was taken I'd already eaten, but you can see the line in the background. Some hungry folks were still waiting to get in and get their moonburger.

(photo by RonJS)

Normally Helen turns the grill off at 12:30pm sharp, but today she said she'd keep flipping burgers as long as there were people waiting in line. I sure hope Terry eventually gets his burger. Terry always says that he will always wait and bring up the rear after everyone else has had a chance to get their burger and he'll be the last one to ride his motorcycle away from the Moonshine General Store. I sure hope he had a good breakfast . . .

By the time Helen turned off the grill, she had sold 1,119 moonburgers! This is a new record for "moonburgers sold" in one day! Per Terry's count, there were 600 motorcycles in the parking lot and 700 people that showed up to join him for a burger in Moonshine, Illinois. Yep. This just might grow into a huge affair.

I've had my two moonburgers (I didn't have breakfast) and am ready to head back into Casey to visit with a few of Terry's friends and kick tires in the hotel parking lot.

Until next year . . . Bye Helen. Love your burgers!

(photo by RonJS)

Tomorrow I leave Casey heading westward.

#138 Jax IBA "Orange Blossom" Ride-In

2009-03-12T08:12:00.005-04:00

Fleeter Log #138
Jax IBA "Orange Blossom Special" Ride-In
2009 Mar 5-11

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Full sized interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=908

Day 1 - Thursday
March 5, 2009

1,051 miles

SS1k to JAX

IBA= Iron Butt Association
http://www.ironbutt.com/about/about.cfm

This is an organization filled with motorcycle riders who have a tendency to ride far.
The introductory ride to qualify for membership is the Saddle Sore 1000 (SS1k), which is to ride 1,000 miles or more in less than 24 hours. They do not advocate speeding to accomplish this goal, but to keep the wheels turning in a steady pace and the stops short and to a minimum.

In this type of riding the purpose is all about making the miles rather than meandering the back roads, sniffin' flowers as you go. My normal mode is flower sniffin', but I have been known to make miles to get to a destination without wasting too much time.

The IBA hosts an annual Spring gathering in Jacksonville, Florida each year. This is the first year that I will be attending. In the spirit of the IBA, the organizers are encouraging participants to complete a certifiable IBA ride on the way to the party. They are calling the effort the Orange Blossom Special Ride-In. To have an IBA ride certified, one has to keep detailed records and witness documentation. Normally the certifying process takes weeks to months to be approved, but riders participating in the Orange Blossom Special Ride-In will have their ride documents processed within 24 hours. The ride certificates will be presented at the banquet on Friday night.

I decided to ride the Orange Blossom Special to JAX!
In order to achieve the 1,000 miles for the SS1k, I will need to find a longer route from Virginia to Florida. First, I wanted to route to Jacksonville through Chattanooga, Birmingham, and Mobile. But when the weather started bringing snow to the Southeast all the way into Georgia in February, I decided maybe the more prudent route would be the quickest road south. Therefore, I decide on riding directly south on I95 to I10, turn west go 200 miles in the panhandle of Florida, turn around and go back east to Jacksonville. That would give me a route totaling over the required1,000 miles.

Got the route, now to figure out when to leave. I want to arrive at the hotel in Jacksonville Thursday evening. After calculating how long I feel it will take me to ride the route, I determine that I will be leaving in the middle of the night Wednesday night . . . Thursday morning at 3am, to be precise. It's going to be a cold start, but I hope to make my way to the warmer south by the time the sun comes up. It will be a good test of the Gerbings!

Shortly before 3am, I'm getting my start receipt with a fuel up. It's 19 degrees and humid! Notice the fogged up glasses and face shield? Okay, now just to make 1,000 miles before 24 hours runs off the clock. Shouldn't be a problem. I'm planning to make the ride in 17 hours or less.

Don't be expecting a lot of photos this time. It's dark, it's cold, I'm wearing bulky gloves, and there's not much to see along the freeway anyway.

The Gerbing jacket liner and gloves keep my hands and upper body warm enough, but my toes are painfully cold. I may be in the market for some boot/foot warmers if I make it a habit of riding in this cold weather.

139 miles and my feet haven't left the pegs as I cross the state line into North Carolina. Time for a short break. I pull into a rest area for a quick potty stop. Simply walking from the parking lot to the restrooms is enough to warm my lower extremities. I'm good until my next stop, which should be to fuel up in Fayetteville, North Carolina. Finally the sky starts to show some light in the east. Soon the sun will bring warmth. I check my mileage 225 -- getting close to my first fuel stop. Life is good, just a bit cold with the temperature hovering at the 20-21 degree mark . It should be a different ride after that fuel stop . . . the sun will be up, I'll be further south, so it will be a warmer ride.

The RT has a 7.1 gallon fuel tank and I average between 45mpg to 50mpg. I've been well over 300 miles on a tank, though I usually fill up around 275 miles leaving more than a gallon in the tank. I've picked out a fuel stop in Fayetteville, North Carolina that I'm familiar with for my first fuel stop at 272 miles. I'm running a bit ahead of time on my preset schedule.

I see the miles counting down on my computer, but am not worried. My exit is just 12 miles away. But then, just 4 miles from my exit, the RT falters. At first I think it's a gust of wind from a passing semi rig . . . or maybe my thick gloved hand slipped on the throttle. But the RT didn't recover. We started losing speed and kept losing speed. When I slow to 55mph, I pull over onto the shoulder and continue to coast along. My mind races through all the possibilities of why we are going slower and slower on the side of I95 as the early morning traffic races past us.

The only answer seems to be that I am out of gas. But that can't be. I should have plenty of fuel since the tripometer shows only 268 on this tank. Nevertheless, that is exactly what has happened. I continue to roll down the shoulder . . . slower and slower. I see the next exit sign just within view. I roll as far as I can before I am going so slow that it is hard to balance the approximately 625 pound machine on two wheels. I am finally forced to put my feet down to the asphalt. We are going no further under the RT's power. The shoulder is not all that wide, especially when large trucks are flying past just a few feet on my left. I decide to push the RT to a wider spot, maybe the next exit, or at least to the overpass about 1/8 mile ahead. I start pushing. I can't quite read the next exit sign . . . too far. I keep pushing.

Many, many vehicles fly past me. Some of the larger trucks even move over to the center lane so as to afford me a bit more room. It is appreciated, though the sudden gush of wind with each passing truck is still enough for me to pause and steady the RT so that it isn't blown over. I even see motorcycles flying past me . . . many of them on trailers pulled by trucks or large RVs. Headed to Bike Week in Daytona, no doubt. Rather disappointing that none see it worth pulling over to see why a fellow motorcyclist is pushing their ride down the shoulder of I95.

Of all the motorcycles I see rolling past without slowing down to see if they could offer any assistance, its the landscaping company with a trailer full of lawn equipment and gasoline containers that really hurts. But there they go past, leaving me behind . . . as nothing but a hazard to avoid hitting as they pass me by. All that gas, gone! All I wanted was a bit of a splash to get me to my planned fuel stop a mere 4 miles away! But with that thought, the trailer vanished into the river of traffic flying past me.

As I reach the overpass with a slightly larger shoulder area where I can take a rest and make a plan, I see a motorcyclist braking hard as he pulls across three lanes of traffic to the shoulder. He parks a couple hundred feet beyond the overpass and starts walking back my direction. What do you know, it was the first BMW motorcycle to come along and it's another RT! The rider offers to go fetch fuel, though he says that he has no idea where the closest fuel stop is. Not a problem. I tell him exactly where the nearest fuel stop is, the one where I had planned to stop, just 4 miles away. With this info he is off on a mission, promising to return soon.

While waiting, I start eyeballing the next exit. I decide that it looks much safer up there and start pushing the RT again. Maybe it's just hard for me to sit still doing nothing. I get to the next exit where the ramp pulls uphill to the frontage road. Well, that's not going to happen! I'm worn out from pushing the RT at least half a mile on the cambered shoulder -- I'll never survive pushing it up that hill! I settle on the hashed out triangle in the Y created by I95 and the exit ramp. And there I park it - to wait for the RT rider to return with fuel.

Shortly after I take my breather and start looking at the time to see just how much I've screwed my chance at successfully completing the SS1k, it happens again. I see The Second BMW motorcycle hitting their brakes hard, crossing over two lanes of traffic to come to a stop right next to me. This time it's a GS. The well protected rider climbs from the GS as he asks about my problem. When he hears that I am out of gas, he immediately starts unbolting his auxiliary fuel cell. I see the sense of purpose and determination in his eyes. I ask if he is "on the clock"? He tells me he is doing a BBG (Bun Burner Gold=1500 miles in less than 24 hours). He had just left Raleigh, North Carolina to start his Orange Blossom Special Ride-In, a mere 45 minutes ago. The BBG is a very hard ride. There is no time allowed for any dawdling . . . such as helping me on the side of the road.

Even though I tell him there is someone fetching fuel as we speak, he is still determined to lift a full 5 gallon fuel cell off his GS and carry it over to the RT. Gasoline weighs about 6.5 pounds per gallon. He was struggling with a heavy fuel cell with over 30 pounds of fluid sloshing around -- not something easily done. He lifted the fuel cell high on his chest as I put the tube into the RTs tank. But only a dribble came out. We switched to trying the vent tube. It gave up a faster dribble. About then the RT Rider pulls up behind us with a gallon container full of gas. GS Rider returns his fuel cell to his bike, bolts it on, and prepares to continue on his way in quest of his BBG. I wish him well and tell him I will see him in Jax!

I then turn my attention back to RT Rider and the precious gallon of gas. When I get it emptied into my tank and myself geared up to ride, RT Rider and I return to the fuel stop at the exit where he just obtained the rescue fuel. I then fill up both my RT and his RT and give him enough money to have a meal on me as my thanks for his time and effort to get me going again! We chatted awhile about our RTs and the IBA. He didn't know about the IBA Ride-In Party in Jax. He may have been wondering why GS Rider was filled with such a sense of determined purpose and was so quick to get back on the road, but I explained all that to him before we said goodbye in Fayetteville, North Carolina. The whole affair from the first falter to pulling back onto I95 southbound = 1 1/4 hours

I still have over 18 hours and 728 miles to achieve my SS1k goal. Plenty of time.

The rest of the ride goes without incident. Ride south on I95. Refuel in Hardeeville, SC. Ride south on I95. Refuel near Jax. Ride west on I10. Refuel in Quincy, FL. Turn around. Ride east on I10. Refuel in Orange Park, FL. Get official stop receipt. 1,045 miles in 17 hours and 55 minutes! Done.

Fuel stop in Quincy, Florida.

Within 30 minutes after I pull into the host hotel, Barb arrives -- completing her Saddle Sore 2000 (SS2k) certified ride from West Texas.

It was a long day -- up at 2:15am, rolling down the road on the clock before 3am and finally to bed sometime after midnight.

Day 2 - Friday
March 6, 2009

0 miles

JAX

Friday we loitered around the hotel lobby and parking lot, kicking tires and comparing farkle notes.

While most of us were socializing, the scorers were working hard verifying the "ride-in" ride documentation. During the banquet, the ride certificates were handed out.

Day 3 - Saturday
March 7, 2009

206 miles

We start the day off with the breakfast buffet that comes with the room.
This is one of those small world stories. The guy to the right of me is Bob Collins from the Golden Triangle of Texas. He sold a Harley to my good friends in Orange TX. My RT has shared garage space with his old Harley upon several occasions. When he introduced himself, I thought there was something familiar about his name, but it was halfway through the eggs before it came to me why.

When I headed north, I saw lots of these--bikes on trailers. Reminds me of the the numerous bikes I saw flying past me while I was pushing the RT southward in North Carolina Thursday morning.

Callahan, Florida old train depot.

Homerville, GA train depot.

Willacoochee, GA train depot.

By the time I reached Douglas, GA. my stomach was growling and this place looked like it would serve my purpose.

I stayed the night at the Quality Inn in Douglas, GA.

Day 4 - Sunday
March 8, 2009

226 miles

US 441 north took me through some nice country and I saw this cool painted old farmhouse.

I took US129 North through Abbeville, GA. Last time I was here (3 months ago), I was going East.
I make it to my friends' house by early afternoon with plenty of time left for visiting, eating, and general socializing before it was time for me to find my way to the guest room.

Day 5 - Monday
March 9, 2009

82 miles

New Front Rubber

My friends, Joan and Charles, in Marietta always leave the door open for me and make me feel at home when passing through the Atlanta area.

All this riding has a way of wearing out tire rubber. My front tire is getting a bit thin since it has traveled over 14,000 miles in 21 states from Minnesota to Florida and Texas to Pennsylvania in its six month "on road" life. I last had the rear tire replaced at nearly 11,000 miles in January. I am now on the third set of tires on the RT. The last two sets have been Michelin Pilot Road2.

So the plan for today is to take a short ride up to Lawrenceville to get some fresh front rubber. Charles sees this as a chance to take his K bike out for a run too. That is NOT his K bike in the photo with the RT.
While the RT is getting the new front tire, a friend of ours, Dan, came by and picked us up for lunch.
I decide to take advantage of Charles and Joan's hospitality and stay another night.

Day 6 - Tuesday
March 10, 2009

372 miles

I leave Marietta and head to Virginia. When riding north on US23 I see a sign for Tallulah Gorge Scenic Loop. I make a quick decision and take the right turn. This is what I find. A good old fashion tourist attraction. It was here that Karl Wallenda walked across a high wire stretched across the Tallulah Gorge on July 18, 1970. Thirty nine years ago this created quite a stir in the area and is still their claim to fame.

Tallulah Point has a small gift shop . . . complete with Moonpies. We are in the south, after all.
Just a bit further up US23 is the Tallulah Falls Train Depot. And on the roadside oddity list of attractions, I see this. It's a Country Store that usually has goats on the roof. You can see how much effort they put into keeping the goats happy. Unfortunately, there was a sign hanging on the gate -- CLOSED: The goats need a day off.

(click on any photo to enlarge)

I continue all the way through North Carolina and into Virginia before stopping for the night shortly after dark.

Day 7 - Wednesday
March 11, 2009

321 miles

Last night I made it to Hillsville, Virginia at about dark and took off this morning following The Crooked Road.
http://www.thecrookedroad.org/

Patrick County Virginia is home to several old covered bridges. I take time to find and ride across two of them.

This is Jack's Creek Covered Bridge built of oak in 1914 across the Smith River. It was designed by a guy named Walter, built by a guy named Charles, and crosses Smith River. I'm not sure who Jack is?!

Next is Bob White Covered Bridge built in 1921. Don't know who Bob White is either.
The Blue Ridge Institute & Museum has an exhibit explaining how this area is the played a most important role in the history of bluegrass music.
http://www.blueridgeinstitute.org/
It's apparent that this is Bluegrass Country when even the local DQ has a live bluegrass music venue.
Somehow I end up on this long stretch (about 7 mi) of gravel road named Folkes Bridge Road. Sure enough I come across this bridge -- Folkes Bridge? Ya think?
Just a bit past the bridge, I see the only people I'd seen while on this gravel road. One of the horseback riders also rides motorcycles and was surprised to see a sport touring bike on this road. Yeah, well I didn't exactly plan it myself. I just find myself on these kind of roads sometimes.

Home at 11:00pm after getting caught up in a traffic jam just 20 miles from home. It took me 3 hours to go 10 miles! I had to pull over to the shoulder a few times to let the RT cool off when it starting heating up. Riding a motorcycle in stop and go traffic isn't the same as being in a four wheeled vehicle. A bike just can't take it without getting overheated -- especially those designed to be air cooled such as the RT.

Orange Blossom Special Summary
Total trip miles: 2,258
States fleetered in this trip: 5
Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida

#137 Greenville RTE

2009-02-24T22:55:00.015-05:00

Fleeter Log #137
Greenville RTE

2009 February 20-24

interactive map of this trip

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full size interactive map of this trip can be found here:

http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=870

Day 1, Friday
February 20, 2009

410 miles

Gold Hill, NC

My friend, Mike "Grizz" Newton, called a ride to eat (RTE) in Greenville, SC for tomorrow lunch. The occasion is the International Motorcycle Show being in town. I won't be attending the show since Sylvia and I already went to see what they had to offer when the Show came through Washington, DC in January. But, just because I've already been to the Show doesn't mean that it's not worth a ride down to join a few other riders for lunch. Besides Grizz and his wife, Cindy, offered to put me up Friday night. And when someone is willing to put up with me AND to "put me up" it just gives me more reason to saddle up and go. They live about 75 miles from the restaurant, so Saturday morning will be a nice ride into Greenville to eat.

There are a lot of riders out there that use what they call their 'lectrics when the temps turn to the cool side. To explain the newfangled electric gear, I suggest you picture a basic jacket with hidden wires in the lining and some plugs to get it hooked up to the heating juices. Then there're the gloves that are set up the same way. The gloves plug into the wires on the sleeves of the jacket. The bike's battery provides the power to get the heating juices flowing. It all comes together with a controller box about the size of two decks of playing cards where the heating juices can be controlled for the amount of heat needed with a simple turn of a knob.

I've been riding in the kind of cool weather that many riders had rather park their bike and take the car, unless they have a set of these magical 'lectrics to keep them from freezing. So with much encouragement, I have now joined those who plug-in when riding in cooler weather. I went with the Gerbing brand and now have my very own jacket liner and G3 gloves. This will be my first ride to truly test the magical 'lectric gear.

It's a chilly 28 degrees and a bit breezy. Even though the sun is shining, the chill makes itself known as I saddle up and ride south to North Carolina. Indeed, a good day to have electric gear if you are going to be riding a motorcycle 400+ miles.

And after riding but a few miles down the road, she then declared her love and adoration of the new found electric gear!

Yes, I am a convert. How did I live without heated gear for so long? Many have asked me just that, but all I can do is claim ignorance. You just don't miss what you've never had. But now that I've known the pleasures of the magical heating current wrapping around me even as the chill factor drops into the single digits, I will always ride with my 'lectrics donned or packed close by.

Since I am bundled up and wearing the G3s that are slightly bulkier than my normal winter gloves, I choose to keep riding the miles and not try to fiddle with the camera. Therefore, not many photos of today's ride, but late in the day I couldn't resist when the sun reached that magic angle.

Gold Hill, North Carolina

(click to enlarge any photo)

Just off US52 in Gold Hill is a Historic Park where one can find some old buildings situated as an old mining town.

When I arrived at the Newton's home, I was directed to the room reserved for the Fleeter!

After getting cleaned up and changed, Mike and Cindy took me out to eat. We had a wonderful dinner and visit before heading home where Mike and I stayed up way too late chatting about stuff.

Day 2, Saturday
February 21, 2009

195 miles

South Carolina

The next morning it's still definitely cool enough to don the Gerbings. This is me doing the "Gerbing dance" as I try to fish out the plug for the gloves -- I forgot to have them at the ready before I put on my riding jacket. I'm still learning! After struggling to fish out the cord, I decided next time that I forget, it will be easier to just take my jacket off and do it right.

By putting up a sign on the mailbox post, Mike made sure that I would know this was the place.

Sorry. No group shot photo of those breaking bread (or tortilla chips) at the RTE. I got distracted. The chips and salsa alone were worth riding the 400 miles for. After eating, I rode a couple blocks over to the Touring Sports BMW dealership and took advantage of the 15% discount they offered to celebrate Show Day by buying a t-shirt. About 2pm I headed south out of Greenville to find some of the roads less traveled in South Carolina.

Mural in Honea Path, South Carolina

I rode south to arrive at Due West, South Carolina.

McCormick, South Carolina welcomes visitors to Thurmond Lake just 7 miles away. Thurmond Lake is on the Savannah River which serves as the border between South Carolina and Georgia.

Tonight I land in Augusta and call the Quality Inn home.

Day 3, Sunday

February 22, 2009
236 miles

Kicklighter

Today I will meander down to Brunswick, Georgia to meet Sylvia where she is spending the week doing some job-related training.

An old building in Matthews, Georgia that has seen better days.

Louisville proclaims itself as Georgia's first permanent Capital. I guess I don't understand how they define "permanent" since the capital was only located here from to 1796 to 1806. I guess in this case "permanent" is defined as anything over 10 years since before moving the capital to Louisville, it had bounced back and forth mostly between Savannah and Augusta, but not staying in any location for over two years at a time.

Cola history lesson:

In Columbus, GA in the year 1905 a young pharmacist named Claud Hatcher set out to formulate a new drink. His first creation was a ginger ale named Royal Crown produced by Union Bottling Works. In 1912 this company decided to incorporate and use the name Chero-Cola under which they produced a number of flavored syrup drinks. In 1914 the company (and others using 'cola' in their name) were sued by Coca-Cola over the rights to the term "cola" in their name. The lawsuit went on for years before finally being settled in 1944 with the ruling that use of the name cola would be allowed. Coca-Cola lost the long battle, but in the years it took to reach the ruling, managed to force many companies out of the heated race to be the top cola company. Chero-Cola was one such casualty . Due to high legal fees and the rising price of sugar, Chero-Cola decided to take the company a different direction when they changed their name to Nehi Cooperation and focused on fruity flavored soft drinks. In 1934 the company decided to reintroduce the original Chero-Cola drink by the name of Royal Crown, later shortened to RC Cola.
Taste tests were conducted even back then and RC was endorsed as "Best by Taste Test" by such well known personalities as Lucille Ball, Ronald Reagan, Loretta Young, and Shirley Temple.

Chero-Cola mural across the street from the Jefferson County courthouse in Louisville, Georgia.

Last year when I was riding along this section of US221 with my friend, Charles from Marietta, he wanted to stop and go exploring when we saw this sign. That was before I lowered the RT and I could barely get my toes on the ground. I was too chicken to go exploring down this road not knowing what kind of terrain I would find at the end of it. But not this year! This year I am eager to explore new roads! Sorry you missed it, Charles.

Not too far from the highway the small road opens up at this old cemetery.

I spent some time putzing around reading the tombstone inscriptions and taking photos . . . to show Charles what he missed.

This one was interesting. The large stone belongs to Mary H. (nee Savage) Wright. The inscription reads, "Beneath this stone reposes all that was mortal of Mary H. . . . "
According to the dates, she married at 17 years old and died in 1854 at 28 years old.

More cola history:
Originally known as "Brad's Drink" named after its creator pharmacist Caleb Bradham. He concocted the cola 1898 in New Bern, North Carolina. While Coca-Cola and other soft drinks sold 6 oz for 5 cents, Pepsi decided to sell 12 oz for 10 cents. But this was the depression and sales were slow so they decided to lower the price to match their competitors and used the move as a marketing maneuver using the slogan "Twice as Much for a Nickel"

The Jingle:
"Twice as much for a nickel, too / Pepsi-Cola is the drink for you /
Pepsi-Cola hits the spot / Twelve full ounces, that's a lot"

I'm not sure who was dispensing drugs back then since the pharmacists seem to be busy creating new formulas to enter in the Soft Drink Wars of the early 1900's.

Bartow, Georgia

Horton's Grocery seemed to side with one of the winners . . . at least one of the survivors that seems to be doing okay for itself.

Johnson's Grocery must have been in competition with the Horton's just a few yards down the road on US221 in Norristown, GA. But they apparently agreed on which cola to support in the ongoing war.

Soperton, Georgia is the county seat of Treutlen County.

In Treutlen County, the folks at O'Conner Horses and Mules must have also been Coca-Cola drinkers. I wonder if they shod horses and mules before selling Firestones to shod more modern day transportation?

As I continue to ride south on US221, I find this freshly painted mural in Mount Vernon, home of the Montgomery County courthouse. But, oddly enough, not home to the Montgomery Monitor newspaper, which is found over in Treutlen County at Soperton. But they do have a mighty nice looking mural on this building just a block over from the Montgomery County courthouse.

It was about 2:30pm as I was headed south on a lonely, straight stretch of US221 between Uvalda and Hazelhurst. As I was running the RT up though the gears (all the way to 6th), Trooper Kicklighter was sitting in his patrol car idly wondering who his next victim would be. By the time I saw the steel gray car off the side of the road sitting in the shadows, he had already had plenty of time to make note of the reading on his radar gun . . . probably well before he could see what the little fast moving object was flying his direction. He was probably welcoming the break in the monotony since we were the only ones visible for miles in either direction.

When I saw what lurked in the shadows, I immediately hit the brakes. Like that would do any good. I was as good as cooked. He had a clean shot at me and there was no one for miles that I could blame his alerting radar gun on. Who knows how fast I was going, but we know that the RT doesn't even ask for 6th gear until about 75 mph and I had already settled in 6th a ways back. I was so busted. As I quickly ran up on him (even though I had judiciously applied the brakes), I saw his hand on the gear shift and saw the tail light flash red as he passed reverse on his way into drive. He was already positioned at an angle to pull in right behind me and it was obvious that that was exactly his intention. In a split second I decided, "Why make him come after me? Why even make him leave his nice cozy spot in the shade?" I applied the brakes a bit harder and pulled over to stop on the shoulder near his parked position. I didn't even pass the point of his front bumper. As I put my boot to the pavement, I called over to him, "I bet I was going too fast, wasn't I?" Who after all was in the perfect position to answer this rhetorical inquiry, but he?

The trooper looked at me a bit stymied as he returned the shifter to park. He then reached down for his trooper hat, snugging the leather strap down at the back of his head when he put it on. He opened the car door and reached for his ticket book sitting on the seat next to him. He wouldn't want to leave that behind, now would he? He has to have a reason for sitting out here on this lonely stretch of road, right? He crossed the distance between us in five easy strides and requested my driver's license. While I dug for my wallet buried deep in the patch pocket of my thick riding gear pants, he asked if there was a reason I was exceeding the posted 55 mph speed limit. Without an excuse to give, I just looked at him and asked if he's ever ridden one of these R1200RTs. He shook his head no and the look on his face told me that this line of reasoning wouldn't hold up with the serious Trooper Kicklighter --- his name, according to the shiny metal tag above his pocket. I was curious about his name, but felt it would not be prudent to change the subject during his serious line of questioning. I feel that he did stray off the topic a bit though when during his line of questioning he asked me the story/meaning behind my personalized LP. I told him the story of Fleeter -- glad to get away from the questions about my spirited pace on his 55 mph roadway.

After getting my identifying information, he stepped a few feet away and started relaying the data to the dispatcher at the other end of his radio. He finally finished his detailed writing in the ticket book and handed it over to me to complete the less than social interaction that one of us initiated on this lonely, straight stretch of US221.

Maybe because he liked my Fleeter story, maybe because he was still a bit stymied by the way this traffic stop was initiated, or maybe he was just showing appreciation to me for letting him keep his parking place in the shade -- whatever the reason -- as I took the pen to sign the document, he advised me, "This is not a ticket, but a warning. Keep in mind the 55 mph speed limit on these Georgia highways."

In that moment, Trooper Kicklighter became my friend! He showed me mercy! We chatted for a few more minutes. He took a close look at the RT's dash as he appeared interested in the gadgets I have mounted there -- GPS, XM-30 puck radio, boosteroo, and Spot. I wonder if he was really just checking to see if I had a malfunctioning radar detector in the gadget lineup. Grateful for my good fortune, I started the RT and pulled back out onto the empty highway . . . careful not to shift past 4th gear in an effort to keep my speed within Trooper Kicklighter's expectations.

The fence posts went slowly past as I made my way to Hazelhurst where I stopped for fuel. When stopped, I pulled my copy of the warning citation out to see just how fast I was going when I got busted, but it wasn't noted -- just a general offense of speeding.

Last mural of the day found in Baxley, Georgia near US321.

I've never seen a Smoker's Cafe before. Not sure if it is a place to eat, smoke, both, or neither?

I like the "haul your butts on in" though. Sounds like it would make a bonus stop for some Iron Butt Association (IBA) riders . . .

I arrive in Brunswick in time for Sylvia and I to "haul our butts" over to Mill House Steakhouse for supper.

Day 4, Monday

February 23, 2009
305 miles

Locally known as . . .

I left Brunswick, by taking I95 north to get a jumpstart on the miles for the day, but just 20 miles later I felt the need to veer off on to US17 to see some of the parts of America that are missed when flying the Interstates.

Sure enough, I wasn't off the Interstate but less than 10 miles when I saw this sign. By the time I read what I was passing, it was too late to make the turn. Time for a U-turn to go back and check it out.

On US17 near the small town of South Newport, Georgia is where one will find the structure

"locally known as THE SMALLEST CHURCH IN AMERICA."

Tokens have been left by those praying and asking for prayers.

The door is unlocked with the request to "close door" on the way out. The interior light is controlled by a button mechanism that turns the light on when the door is open. Nice idea.

I continue to wander north on US17 past Charleston, South Carolina and make my way to Sullivan's Island for my next stop at Fort Moultrie. The fort was named after William Moultrie, a Revolutionary War hero. It was from Fort Moultrie that the Confederate forces fired upon the Federal soldiers at Fort Sumter just off shore. It was this action that started the Civil War in April of 1860.

The Charleston Lighthouse is just a few blocks north along the shoreline from the fort. Activated in 1962, it was the last lighthouse built by the Federal Government. The unique triangular shape has one point/corner facing outward toward the Atlantic Ocean. This design allows it to withstand winds up to 125 miles per hour.

I left Sullivan's Island making my way to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.

I don't remember just where I was on US17, but it looks like one of the local seafood restaurants is taking delivery of the "catch of the day"!

I let price determine where I would stop for the night. A better than average Quality Inn & Suites in North Myrtle Beach won the bidding with a nice room for less than $43.00. After I got checked in, I rode a couple miles to find a Subway. Subway is about the best place to go for a meal that can easily be stuffed into my tankbag without issue.

Day 5, Tuesday

February 24, 2009
440 miles

Barn Sour

Here's where I called "it home" last night. Nice place for less than $43 a night. When I asked, they said that they haven't suffered noticeably from 'empty room' syndrome due to the economy. They said they have a pretty loyal following by a wide range of clients -- business, leisure, and even some spring breakers. I can see why. A good room for a good price.

When I found myself going through Cape Fear Country, I couldn't help myself. I had to make a slight side trip to find a Cape Fear Rally bonus location that I didn't get to last April during the rally.

Battle of Rockfish monument near Wallace, North Carolina.

Soon after sneaking back into Virginia on the back road of route 35, I see the sun hitting this old red brick post office in Courtland, Virginia.

Anyone that grew up riding horses, will understand the term barn sour. When I was around 5 years old, I spent a lot of time riding Ol' Dixie up and down the fence line next to the lane from the house to the highway - about a quarter of a mile round trip. Mom restricted my riding area to where she could see me if she were to look out the window, so I didn't have a lot of choices where to ride at that age. I would have been happy riding all day up and down that lane, but to Dixie it probably got a bit boring. Maybe like the horses on a Merry Go Round -- how much fun do you think that is for them? While I was having a blast riding Dixie on my Merry Go Back & Forth, Dixie would get more and more reluctant to travel away from the house and barn, but she would pick up the pace every time we turned back toward home. After a few hours, it became a real battle for me to get her all the way to the highway, where I would turn her around and let her rip as we would take-off running back toward the house and barn. It was the only way I could get her to 'go fast' . . . and I liked to go fast! When we pulled up to a stop in front of the barn door after a spirited return ride, I'd fight to get her turned around and then we'd do it all over again. This was the routine until Mom would come out and call me in, putting a stop to my fun and bringing relief to Ol' Dixie.

A horse's behavior of being reluctant to travel away from the barn, but being eager to go fast as soon as the turn is made back to the barn is known as the horse being barn sour. How this relates to fleetering is the closer I get to home, the less likely I am to stop and take photos. Guess sometimes I get to acting a bit barn sour as I make the last push for home.

I arrive home about 7:30 pm. Another great fleetering trip on the books, even if there aren't many photos taken on the last leg home!

Greenville RTE Ride Summary
Total trip miles: 1,590
States fleetered in this trip: 4
Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia

#136b Through the Fog

2008-12-21T21:44:00.014-05:00

Fleeter Log #136b

Through the Fog
2008 December 10-21

This is the second part of my Florida and Texas trip.
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Interactive map of this trip.

Day 8, Wednesday
December 10, 2008
135 miles

Snow in Texas

Growing up in Texas, I have never thought of December as being a particularly cold month. In South Texas, it was not unheard of for our family to have Christmas dinner outside on picnic tables.

But today wasn't one of those picnic kind of days. None the less, I will be riding from the Texas/Louisiana border to just north of Houston. By the time I pull into my friend's house in Magnolia, Texas there will be snow falling. Not a lot of snow, but the point is that it's that kind of weather--cold and overcast in Texas.

It's not the first time I've seen it on the RT instrument panel, but the first time I've seen it while riding in South Texas. When it gets down to 35 degrees, a flashing snowflake icon appears.

I stop in Beaumont to meet a friend at Willy Ray's BBQ. Best BBQ in the area! I don't care how much they brag, it doesn't make those other states' BBQ better than TEXAS BBQ! I highly recommend Willy Ray's for anyone wanting to try the best BBQ!

I took hwy 105 through Sour Lake, Cleveland, and Cut & Shoot on my way to Magnolia.
While eating at Willy Ray's, it had started raining. The kind of rain that you could just tell would rather be snow. At 4pm, I pull into Rita & Tom's driveway though the light snow flurries and am glad to have a warm home waiting for me.

Friday, December 12, 2008
A new Marine gets his bars!

The reason for this trip to Texas is to attend the commissioning of a future Marine. Rita's elder son, Andrew, sure looks good in a Marine uniform. Semper Fi, Drew!

The tradition of the First Salute, also know as the Silver Dollar Salute, is for the new Officer to slip a silver dollar to the one who offers him the first salute.

Andrew honored his A&M Corp background for his First Salute.

I salute you, Drew!

The juxtaposition of Kyle Field and the street sign makes me think of someone...
You know who you are!

My second home in Magnolia, Texas under an extra bright full moon.

Day 11, Saturday
December 13, 2008
190 miles

Ride with Jerry

The last couple days the RT stayed tucked safely away in my friends' garage. But with nice weather arriving for the weekend, I'll be out rolling with my friend, Jerry.

We stopped for pie in Anderson, Grimes County.

When I spotted this building next to the train track in Navasota, I had to do a U-turn . . . I smelled a photo-op. Jerry was quick to follow my lead and follow me back to the gravel parking lot. By the end of the day, he learned that following a flower sniffer involves lots of U-turns!

A shortcut through William Penn on the way to Independence. The first time I was on this road was in May 2006 while following Ana (Fleeter Log # 21).

We were on our way to Clay, Texas. It's just a small place off the beaten path. Not much to see there, but I lucked out finding this rock entry sign just down the road at someone's private gate.

Some careful placement makes the sign look like a personal statement.

Stickers in Texas! Possibly the reason I never learned to go barefoot.

Train depot in Burton, Texas

By late afternoon the pie was a distant memory and my stomach was ready to make new memories. Jerry knew of this little cafe in Chappell Hill and it was well worth the stop.

Life is good in Texas!

Day 16, day
December 18, 2008
417 miles

Fog to Ferry

Texas knows fog. Sometimes it can linger well into the day. This morning I wake up to soup . . . outside in the form of fog. I decide that it's not worth waiting half a day for it to lift. I saddle up and ride.

Polk County Courthouse in Livingston, Texas: I have a cousin that used to work in there . . .
the basement I think, but still.

Tyler County Courthouse in Woodville, Texas

Even 120 miles down the road the fog is still so thick that visibility remains an issue.
The moisture is not rain, just the condensation from the thick fog.

US190 over the B. A. Steinhagen Reservoir at Martin Dies State Park between Woodville and Jasper, Texas.

The reservoir is built on the Neches River.

Vernon Parish in Leesville, Louisiana

Leesville, Louisiana

By 2pm, I was beginning to feel an empty feeling in my stomach so Rosie's Diner in Simmesport, LA lured me in for a look at the menu.

Classic diner style building and food. I was the only customer there -- guess I missed the lunch rush.

Lettsworth, LA may not be much of a town, but it still has a place on the railroad map.

The 'plan' was to cross the Mississippi River between New Roads and St. Francisville, LA then find a room for the night in St. Francisville. But when fleetering, it is always good to keep a flexible attitude or else moments like this could torque your day. As the sun sets low, I am less than 4 miles away from stopping for the night -- all I have to do is get on a ferry and cross the river.

However . . . The ferry apparently isn't running. The only sign cluing me in to this fact is the one setting in the middle of the road just as the ferry comes into sight down the hill parked on the bank of the Mississippi. Some readers may recall a similar situation crossing the Mississippi from Modac to Ste. Genevieve in at the end of Day 7 in Fleeter Log #135. Didn't get a ferry ride that evening either. This time the change in plans means routing myself though Baton Rouge during rush hour traffic (there's nothing rushing about it!) adding 100 miles to my day.

Following the Mississippi River south into Baton Rouge. The river is on the left on the other side of that berm.

Once I finally make it through the heavy I10 traffic of Baton Rouge and start moving again, I am ready to put some miles between me and the freeway. My plan is to stay a comfortable distance from I10 and stick to the smaller roads and communities. So I make my way to Amite, LA for the night.

Day 17, Friday
December 19, 2008
529 miles

Dothan Decision

Before pulling out of Amite, LA this morning, I take my walk around the RT for a once over. It's not the dirtiest it's been, but far from clean. At least it's just dirt, no seeping final drive fluid . . . which is a good thing.

Another foggy winter day in the Southeast. But at least it's not cold -- only 67 degrees.

I take LA hwy10 and come across this hungry bunch.
Can you see who seems to be working real hard at fitting into the herd?

In Bogalusa, LA, I spied Santa getting a last two-wheeled ride in before trading the motorcycle for his sleigh to make his annual trek around the would.
Another day of getting off the main road. This really is a public road I found southeast of Hattisburg, MS near Camp Shelby Military Reservation.

Finding myself on dirt roads isn't unheard of either.
Somewhere near the Mississippi / Alabama state line.

Deer Park, Alabama

Perry Store, Alabama

I make it to Dothan, Alabama shortly after dark. I haven't eaten since my waffle at the hotel this morning and the DQ was pulling me in.

On this trip I made a huge faux paux and it was somewhere in Mississippi or Alabama that I realized it. I don't know how it happened. I just wasn't thinking. I've never been too good at dealing with numbers so I guess I could blame it on being a "number thing." Somehow I let the odometer run way past where I should have been logging a scheduled service (24k). According to the odometer I should have had an oil change back in Florida -- 2, 000 miles ago. Shame on me! I am a horrible RT caretaker! Because of this oversight, I start considering options for getting the RT's belly properly scratched as soon as possible. I'm still 1,000 miles away from home. Should I go directly to a dealer before going back to VA? Tomorrow is Saturday. If I can't get a dealer to fit me in tomorrow here in the Southeast, then it won't happen until Tuesday (most BMW dealer's are closed on Sun/Mon). Should I find the supplies and attempt an oil change myself? Or should I just ride home without being too hard on the throttle?

I decide to phone a friend. Charles lives in Marietta (NE of Atlanta), just 223 miles from here and somewhat on the way with a slight rerouting. He has a garage. He knows how to service BMWs. He's a teacher. He can help me/teach me to change the oil and I can have the rest of the major service items taken care of by Mortons BMW when I get home. I get Charles on the phone and explain to him my faux paux. I await the verbal lashing. But Charles is a kind soul and a patient fella. He goes easy on me. He assures me that the RT will survive the trip home . . . just be gentle on the throttle. However, I am welcome to come to Atlanta for a couple options. He feels that Atlanta BMW will take care of me tomorrow OR I am welcome to use his garage to attemp the oil change myself. However, he is booked solid tomorrow and won't have time for a "garage day."

Add to the decision process the weather coming in. Cold, wet weather. If I ride a direct line (no little forays into Florida, no zigzagging looking for flowers to sniff) back to Virginia, I should arrive in Virginia about the same time the cold weather blows past the Blue Ridge Mountains bringing freezing temperatures into eastern Virginia. If I dawdle, I will have a cold, wet day for my last day on the road.

Strolling around the DQ parking lot, I sip on my cola as I discuss these factors with Charles. I decide to reroute a direct-ish line from Dothan to Fredericksburg on the secondary highways. Before leaving the parking lot, I digitally save the scene where I "phoned a friend" for sage advice to help me with my Decision made in Dothan.
I leave Dothan about 7:20pm with the idea that Albany, about 90 miles away, will be a good place to stop for the night. Since I'll be arriving late on a weekend, I phone in a reservation. Decisions have been made. All is settled. Heading to Albany.

Seems that even after dark, I can't turn off the urge to sniff out one last photo op before crossing the state line from Alabama into Georgia. Probably not the smartest idea to be playing around off the pavement in the dark. But I got the photo and my butt never left the saddle. RT puts out pretty decent light, don't ya think? Stock lights with a bit of help from Motolights mounted low on the forks.

Day 18, Saturday
December 20, 2008
414 miles

Albany to Lugoff and Home

This is where I landed last night after 9pm. I couldn't see much in the dark, but I could see enough to know that it had lots of character. The main building started out as the manor house built in 1934 at the Merry Acres Farm just outside of Albany, Georgia. As Albany grew, the farm found itself in a prime location to show some southern hospitality to travelers passing through the southwest. Merry Acres Farm became Merry Acres Motel. The owners moved into the upstairs portion of the manor house and converted the downstairs into the office and common area. Merry Acres Motel started with a wing of rooms on each side of the house, but eventually grew as more rooms were added on the backside around the also newly added swimming pool.

Merry Acres is now owned by Quality Inn. I am glad to see a major chain taking interest in the older properties. In my opinion, keeping the property's character under new management is a much better answer than razing the old buildings to build a new box with rooms that look like all the other boxes with rooms. I hope this becomes a trend. I, for one, will support their effort by visiting these type properties when looking for an overnight home while on the road.

Following hwy 300 to the northeast takes me along railroad tracks and several old depots.
This old depot south of Warwick appears to have been relocated. That, or the tracks have been relocated.

Past Cordele, I take US280 through Pitts, GA and on to Vidalia.

Rochelle, GA
Notice the labels on the jugs? Shop, Rye, Cheer

Wilcox County courthouse in Abbeville, GA.

Abbeville is known as the Wild Hog Capital of Georgia.
The Wild Hog Festival is where you go to show off your dancing skills at the Waller Dance.

This deserted shack caught my attention not just because it looks like it has been here long enough to be the setting of some interesting stories, but for what I saw in the window.

The dilapidated building obviously has no electricity, but this window fan was spinning like it still has a purpose and doesn't know that it was long ago abandoned. Kind of a "disconnect feeling" to see the fan spinning like it was still in use . . .

VIDEO

Still following the railroad tracks. Still coming across old train depots.
This one is in Milan, GA

I see this "final transport" a few miles west of Vidalia. It deserves a U-turn for a closer look and documentation for the Fleeter Log.

Vidalia is known for more than just antique funeral wagons.

Between Swainsboro and Twin City, I spot this fella at a wide spot in a creek. Yep. Another U-turn. I went back to see if he was catching anything. Not yet he said, but sometimes its not just about hooking the fish, but more about watching the cork bob in the slow current. Don't I know it! Another philosopher with a fishing pole.

Jenkins County courthouse in Millen, GA.

My final stop in Georgia is at the Visitor Center on US301. This is the kind of visitor center I like best. It's on a secondary highway without a lot of people milling about. Whenever I see these, I always stop and take advantage of the center. When stopping at these locations, be sure to sign the guest book. Hopefully, they will have enough numbers to justify staying open. Just across the state line on the South Carolina side, I notice their abandoned visitor center with barricades blocking the entrance and an overgrown landscape. Sad.

The dark clouds are catching up to me and the wind is blowing in cooler air.

Another sign of yesteryear along US301. Places like this remind me how the US highways used to be the main thoroughfare as people traveled across counties or states.

Calhoun County Courthouse in St. Matthews, SC.

The sun disappears as I ride the last 45 miles north on US601 from St. Matthews to Lugoff. I get a few drops of rain as I go through my "end of the day" routine securing the RT and farkles for the night and getting myself settled at the Quality Inn. A couple hours later the wind picks up and the rain starts comeing down with purpose.

Day 19, Sunday
December 21, 2008
397 miles

Trying to Outride the Clouds

The next morning it's still raining. A little bit cool and a lot of wet at 8am while I'm packing up to depart Lugoff, SC. I leave the cover half on the RT as strap on my duffle, put on my tankbag, and get the GPS connected. Since the rain is still coming down steady, I put on my helmet and riding jacket first. Why not? The helmet and jacket will keep me dry as I go through my "saddling up" routine.

Light rain at the train depot in McBee, SC.

McBee, SC is home to A.O. Smith.
This brings back memories of my swimming pool service days with DCC.
A.O. Smith is a company that makes motors. Lots of those motors find themselves attached to pumps circulating pool water.

Still following train tracks and finding old train depots along the way.
Here's one in Patrick, SC.

Remember that cold weather I spoke of during my Decision in Dothan? Well, last night's rain was only the beginning of a weather system moving in. That was the wet stuff, but the cold stuff is still on it's way. Here we see that I'm soon to be meeting the cold stuff.

I decide maybe it's time to get something to eat today when I make a fuel stop in Apex, NC. The temperature has dropped to 48 degrees and that calls for adding another layer. Time to pull out my quilted jacket liner and pull on another Buff around my neck.

The smells from the Bojangles next to my fuel stop convinces me that I'm hungry for chicken. A couple of the employees there were quite taken with the RT and the fact that I was on my way to Fredericksburg, VA. When they found out that I was in southern Georgia just yesterday and Texas a couple days before that . . . well, they just didn't know what to say. But one of them kept repeating how she wished she could do something like that. I asked, "Why not?" I suggested she find an MSF class and find a small used motorcycle to see how it feels. Who knows where it may take her!

From the Bojangles in Apex, the RT takes me without delay to my next stop. Less than a gas tank away and 230 miles later, I arrive home in Fredericksburg. By the time I pull into the driveway at home, it's 36 degrees and dropping. I was glad for the quilted liner, but thinking again about the electric heated gear so may riders use. Maybe . . .

WWW Ride Summary
Total trip miles: 3,777
States fleetered in this trip: 9
Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas

#136a Following the Gulf Coast: Cedar Key to Texas

2008-12-10T12:58:00.018-05:00

Log #136a
Wizard's Wild Weekend!
Cedar Key, Florida
2008 December 3-9

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Interactive map of this trip can be found here:
http://jasonjonas.org/spot/tripViewer.do?id=576

For the past three years, Kevin Healy has invited his MTF friends to meet him in Cedar Key in early December. This is the first year that I will join them. Sylvia and I will ride to Cedar Key together, then Sunday we will head north together and midday she will split off to the northeast back to Virginia and I will follow the Florida coast west as I head to Texas.

Day 1, Wednesday
December 3, 2008
277 miles

Salem Church Ruins

Sylvia had some things to take care of Wednesday morning so it was 2pm before we were ready to pullout of Fredericksburg on I95 to make tracks southbound to Florida. Even though we left in the middle of the day, the temperature was only 46 degrees. The sun sets early this time of year and when we loose the sun, we get cold fast.

We stop for the night in Fayetteville, NC just after 7pm. We fuel up the bikes and have Subway for supper while I call Choice Hotels for a room at the Quality Inn down the road.

Day 2, Thursday
December 4, 2008
374 miles

The morning gets off to a slow start and it's 10:25am by the time we pull out of the Quality Inn. We cross the border into South Carolina at 11:30am and make the obligatory visit to Pedro.
Alpha Man is another "flat visitor" that arrived for a visit from Texas.
Alpha Man tries out a new hairdo, but decides that it's not for him.
Instead, he tries out a sombrero.
Enough time spent here. Time to fly south!
Nothing remarkable about traveling south on I95. We make the miles until it's time to exit for the one side trip I wanted to make today near Sheldon, SC to see the Old Sheldon Church Ruins.
We arrive as the sun sinks behind the trees and throws shadows from the ruins.
The church building was burned down twice: Once during the Revolutionary War by the British and again during the Civil War by the Federal Army.

We make it to Brunswick, GA after dark and meet some of Sylvia's friends for supper before checking into our hotel on the south side of town at 9:40pm.

Day 3, Friday
December 5, 2008
205 miles

Folkston Funnel

We left Brunswick, GA under overcast skies with temperatures in the mid 50s. We traveled about 17 miles south on I95 before taking exit 14 and headed west across the southeast tip of Georgia. Looking at the map this section of Georgia reminds me of a duodenum. I'm not sure what the locals call this area, but "the Duodenum of Georgia" would make sense to me. After all, Florida and Texas both have a Panhandle . . .

We thought we were simply on our way to the Okefenokee Swamp, but a surprise bonus location was put in our path before we arrived at the Okefenokee. We pulled into Folkston, GA from the east and by the time we made it to the railroad tracks, we knew that this was a unique little town. The population of Folkston in the last census (2000) was only 2,178. During its earlier days, Folkston was the self-proclaimed "Marriage Capital of the World" due to the number of Floridians whose passion could not endure their state's waiting period to tie the knot. They would travel north into Georgia in search of more lenient requirements. The amorous couples would find themselves entering Folkston single, but leaving town in the state of wedded bliss...or at least legally married.

But what got our attention was the number of train tracks running north/south and the fact that the rails never seem to have the chance to cool before another train comes though the middle of this small town. In fact, there are so many trains coming through here that this small town has been dubbed "The Folkston Funnel." There are actually up to 80 trains a day passing through Folkston as they come and go from Florida to the rest of the nation.
The town has embraced it's fate and rather than complaining of the noise and interruption of local traffic, have embraced with open arms the Railfans that come from around the country to watch trains pass through town. The town has even built a special covered platform near the tracks for those participating in the sport/hobby of "Fanning the Funnel." The platform is even equipped with a scanner to allow the rail fans to listen in on the railroad radio traffic.
The old restored train depot is home to the local visitor center and a railroad museum. There are souvenirs available for purchase in case visitors wish to return the open arm embrace of Folkston by opening their wallets before leaving town.

Alpha Man was impressed with the "juice trains" in the display case. We didn't get to see one come though the funnel, but heard that the juice trains get priority. If there is ever another train wanting to use the track at the same time as a juice train, the juice train will win. The Florida juice must get through!
Before we get too caught up in fanning the funnel at Folkston, we see the time and remember that we still need to make our way to the other popular local attraction -- the Okefenokee Swamp.
Only 10 miles southwest of Folkston is the east entrance to the National Wildlife Refuge, the Okefenokee! I position the RT down in the ditch for a photo-op with the entrance sign for my flat visitor, Alpha Man.

Once inside the park, we find the visitor center and see there are lots of boats waiting to take visitors for a tour the swamp, but we take note of the weather as a few drops start to fall and decide to saddle up and keep moving toward our destination of Cedar Key. I sure would like to arrive in Cedar Key in time to see the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico.

We leave Okefenokee and pass right through the "duodenum of Georgia" and into Florida. If anyone wants to visit the duodenum of Georgia, set the GPS for St. George, Georgia.

Alpha Man at the Florida state line on highway 121.
We couldn't miss this fruit stand on CR 129 where we crossed over I10 near Sanderson, Florida.
We enter Florida about 1:30pm and stopp in Lake Butler for lunch at a small deli about 2:30pm. Byt he time we leave Lake Butker, there's a light rain, but nothing heavy as we zigzagg our way southwest across Florida to find the "lost key" on the western shores of northern Florida due west of Ocala. Anyone that knows the geography of Florida, will realize that this is NOT where Florida generally keeps the Keys. Generally when looking for Keys in Florida, you would travel as far south as possible until you hit the Overseas Highway. That road will take you down the chain of Keys all the way to the "lowest key" of Key West. But Cedar Key is lost . . . or hidden . . . however you choose to see its location, it's not found with the rest of the Keys. We follow highway 24 and arrive at the Cedar Key welcome sign on the edge of town at 5:19pm.
By 5:27pm, I'm taking photos of the sunset.

If you listen closely, you can hear the bird's wings flapping and the distant sizzle as the hot sun gently lowers itself into the extinguishing waters of the Gulf of Mexico. I take a deep sigh. We made it in time to see the sunset over the Gulf of Mexico.
This is the view from the motel parking lot just a block away from where I took the previous photos.
After getting parked, unpacked, and settled into the Beachfront Motel, we started mingling with other motorcyclists in the parking lot. Some of the folks I knew from other similar gatherings and some I had never met before. But within a few minutes, I had added more faces to the "known" column.

After dark settled in, we gathered in the motel parking lot and walked en masse to Dock Street to the Dock Street Depot for supper. Dock Street is the "happening place" in Cedar Key, especially after dark when weekend sailors (and bikers) come in looking for a meal and/or a party.

Day 4, Saturday
December 6, 2008
10 miles

A Day in Cedar Key

Obviously, today wasn't a day about riding the miles. Far from it.
We are in Cedar Key, Florida . . . in December. We are going to enjoy being here. We start the day by walking to breakfast at Annie's Cafe.
Annie's is a small place with a relaxed atmosphere. There wasn't much room inside with most of the Wizard's friends arriving ahead of us.
So Sylvia and I sat with a few others on the back screened porch overlooking this channel.
When we got back from breakfast, some saddled up for a ride to lunch at Horseshoe Beach about 75 miles away. These are some of Wizard's friends that regularly attend this gathering. They've already seen Cedar Key and are ready to expand their exploring.

The rest of us decided to stay around Cedar Key to see the local sights. Cedar Key is a little place. It shouldn't take long.
One of my obvious mandatory photo-op stops is the post office.
Cedar Key, Florida 32625
The local grocery store shows a little local culture.
This is looking back at our motel from Palmetto Drive. We are staying at the Beachfront Motel which sits right on the point.
A small channel that leads to the Gulf of Mexico.
Pretentious ISN'T a word that comes to mind in Cedar Key.
This property didn't have any vacancies. It's know as the Honeymoon Suite.
Those of us that were in the motel's parking lot gathered for a group photo as the sun sank low.

(click to enlarge any photo)

After dark, we walked back to Dock Street again, but this time gathered at the Seabreeze Restaurant for our evening meal and more social time.

Day 5, Sunday
December 7, 2008
293 miles

Riding The Nature Coast to The Forgotten Coast

Sunday morning we take our time getting up and loaded to go. Our first stop is breakfast at Annie's Cafe before leaving town. Most of Wizard's friends had already cleared breakfast and were miles down the road toward their own destinations when we walked in careful not to let the screen door slam behind us. We eat breakfast while visiting a bit with Jim & Donna Phillips of 2-up rally fame and before we knew it, the time was already 10am when we leave Cedar Key in our review mirrors.
Sylvia and I ride north from Cedar Key to Chiefland where we take a jog westward to look for sea cows.
Our destination is Manatee Springs State Park located on the Suwannee River. If we're lucky, the manatee will be visiting.
This section of the Florida coast from Tampa Bay north to Florida's Panhandle near Carabelle, FL is known as The Nature Coast.
The old time boaters and travelers knew it a "the lonesome leg" of Florida.
Manatee Springs was registered as a Natural Landmark by the U.S. Department of Interior in 1972. It is a first magnitude spring discharging an average of 100 million gallons of water every day. The waters are a constant 72 degrees, providing a warmth for the manatee during the winter - November through April.
We searched the clear spring waters, but saw no manatee today. The park is a popular place for snorkeling and scuba divers, but today the waters flowed undisturbed. Maybe the sign below has something to do with that. It got the attention of AlphaMan and his friend, Flat Francisco. They were on the lookout for the gators, but we saw none.
After visiting the springs, we take a stroll on the boardwalk to a floating boat dock on the Suwannee River.
The Suwannee River starts its journey at the Okefenokee Swamp in Georgia meandering 266 miles and crossing Florida to the Gulf of Mexico. It provides the division separating Florida's Panhandle from the rest of the state.
The river was named Suwani meaning "Echo River" by the native Timucuan Indians.
Stephen Foster wrote the song "Old Folks at Home" also known as 'Swanee River', though he never saw the Suwannee River made famous in his song. Florida adopted this song as their official state song in 1935.

Fishing on the Suwannee River.
From here, Sylvia and I will take separate roads. She will head back to Virginia and I will follow the Florida Coast toward Texas.

The RT waiting to take me back on the road.
I travel north along The Nature Coast on US19.
When I pass through Old Town, Florida my inquiring mind asks these questions:
How old does a town have to be to be called Old Town? What was it called before being called Old Town? Maybe New Town?
US19 onto US98 and continue westward following the coast.
Just west of Perry, as I'm traveling through a rather tall and thick stand of palm trees, I look up to see a bald eagle flying overhead. Seeing a bald eagle while fleetering always seems to me to be a good sign. Last year I saw one as I crossed from Maine into Canada.

It was along here I saw this sign. Made me think of the big "Snipe Hunts" in Texas. (nudge, nudge, wink, wink)
Bit of trivia: The Snipe bird is a shore bird that is very difficult to hunt even for a truly experienced snipe hunter. The term "sniper" came to mean a marksman so skilled as to be able to shoot a snipe. Now you know . . .
As I cross the Ochlockonee Bay, I leave The Nature Coast behind and enter The Forgotten Coast.
Ochlockonee Bay transitions the Ochlockonkee River to the Gulf of Mexico.

The Forgotten Coast of Florida.

Fleetering The Forgotten Coast of Florida.

Carrabelle, Florida

The World's Smallest Police Station" since 1963.
The phone company provided a booth for the official police phone that up until then had been in a call box bolted on the side of a building.

Dog Island is an island located off the coast near Carrabelle.
When I saw this paw print in the sand, I guessed it might one of the island dogs visiting the mainland. (It's the little clues/signs that one has to pay attention to in life.)
Carrabelle Beach is west of town and has a special place in WWII history. This is the D-Day training site. In 1943 the Army's 4th Infantry Division trained here and on Dog Island for the Normandy Invasion of 1944. (click to enlarge)
I cast a long shadow as I walk along Carrabelle Beach imagining the amphibious infantry assault teams landing on the sandy shores.
Crossing the Apalachicola Bay bridge at sunset.
Apalachicola is derived from the Indian words meaning "people on the other side of the river" though many of the locals choose to translate it as "land of the friendly people."

Riding into the "land of the friendly people" at sunset.

It was dark as I rode into Mexico Beach, Florida. I stopped in a parking lot to take a photo of some Christmas lights. As I was trying to set the camera up for the shot (helmet and earbuds still in place), I thought I heard someone yelling across the two lane highway. But in the limited light, I couldn't see them. Not that it mattered. None of my business. I don't know anyone in this small coastal town. But the "calling out" seemed to get louder and more insistent. I reached up and muted the XM radio getting piped into my helmet and looked into the darkness toward the voice. I see a fellow crossing the highway. He calls out again, "Hey, Mr. BMW man! Mr. BMW man!"
I realized that he is coming my direction and talking to me. I'm Mr. BMW man . . . in his eyes. Now that he has my attention, he proceeds to invite me to the Christmas Tree Lighting ceremony getting ready to take place at the other end of town -- four blocks away. I decline to remove my helmet or inform him that maybe Ms. BMW woman would have been more correct, but I do decide to take him up on his offer and make my way to join the small crowd gathering at Sunset Park where the large tree is waiting it's moment to shine.

The santa dolphins also attended the tree lighting.

Home for the night is Panama City at the Comfort Inn. A nice place for a few bucks. I got the room for less than $45. They had been forced to reduce rates due to the economy and fuel prices robbing them of their usual number of customers. I just may route myself back through here another time; reasonable rates, clean room, good linens, strong wi-fi signal AND and Schlotzsky's across the street! By 8pm I was sitting across the street enjoying an Austin, Texas original -- a Schlotzsky sandwich.

Day 6, Monday
December 8, 2008
219 miles

Riding The Emerald Coast

I wasn't in a hurry to get on the road today since I'm not planning on many miles, but then I got to talking to some of the employees of the motel (guess they weren't too busy since I was about the only guest they had staying that night) and ended up leaving later than I wanted to leave.

Even with my late start, I take my time and follow FL30 that hugs the coast until it joins back up to US98. I can imagine that during the busy season this would be a very busy stretch of road, but on this Monday in early December, the traffic is very light and I am able to whip a u-turn when and where I wish.

This section is known as The Emerald Coast, so named for the green water lapping at the white sandy beaches. It is filed with hotels, resorts, shops and restaurants all here no doubt to get a piece of the spring break crowd and other tourists seeking the calming effects of the Emerald Coast.
This shark hanging at Sharky's Restaurant caught my eye. I thought it would make a good photo op for AlphaMan.

I found this mural on a beach outfitter shop.

If you've never had a Whataburger, you've been deprived! Whataburger is always on my list of places to stop whenever I go south because . . . Whataburger is what a burger should be! Usually I have to get to Texas before I can sink my teeth into one. If you're not in the mood for a hamburger, try the Whatachick'n or Whatacatch (fish).
The first Whataburger was opened in Corpus Christi, Texas in August 1950. I had my first Whataburger in San Antonio in the 1960's. I found this one in Destin, Florida just before crossing the bridge at Choctawhatchee Bay.
After eating my Whataburger and making a phone call, I ride across the street and take a walk along the waterfront. I met this pelican hanging out waiting to be fed trash fish by the local fishermen.
He raised his neck to get a better look at me when I 'ooched' up close to take these pictures. There's no zoom involved here. He actually let me get this close.
After passing Fort Walton Beach and Elgin Air Force Base, I continue following US98 and see these Palm Tikis. After about 1/2 a mile, I talk myself into turning around to take a better look.

I met Charlie, the Tiki artist. He's a friendly sort and takes a break from his chainsaw to chat with me a bit. I end up buying this one -- to be shipped home of course. PalmTiki
Fifteen miles after the stopping at Charlie's TikiPalm studio, I'm pulling into the Gulf Island National Seashore, Naval Live Oaks Visitor Center in Gulf Breeze, Florida.
Out behind the visitor center, there's a deck and a hiking trail.
That's Santa Rosa Island off in the distance with the Gulf of Mexico on the other side of it.

I managed to find my way to the water.

My BMW All Round riding boots are indeed waterproof.

Time to follow the sun. My plan is to make it through Alabama and into Mississippi before stopping for the night.
About 123 miles later, I arrive in Ocean Springs and find Doughboys. I have a poboy sandwich for supper and get checked into the Quality Inn for the night.

Day 7, Tuesday
December 9, 2008
360 miles

Ghosts Left by Katrina along the Mississippi Sound Coast

Today I am going to try to finish a leg of a ride I started in 2006 -- to survey the damage left by Katrina on August 29, 2005. In May of 2006, I rode US90 along the coast of Mississippi westward as far as Ocean Springs where the US90 bridge from Ocean Springs to Biloxi was wiped out. Today I will cross over the new bridge into Biloxi and continue to follow along the coast of the Mississippi Sound, passed Pass Christian and over another post-Katrina bridge into Bay St.Louis.

Home last night was the Quality Inn in Ocean Springs, MS.
Before crossing the new bridge, I take a short detour onto Lover's Lane and use someone's decorated gate for a Christmasy pose.
There's Biloxi at the far end of the brand new US90 bridge. The old bridge looks dwarfed next to the new one. It was tossed about like an upset scrabble board by Katrina.
Fleeter FILE photo: The last time I was here was in May 2006. This was as far as I got on US90 before I had to give up the secondary highways and follow the herd on I10.
Link to my Fleeter trip May 2006.
Another file photo from May 2006:
The Biloxi Lighthouse is the only Mississippi lighthouse still standing since Katrina destroyed the other remaining lighthouses in 2005. Built in1848, it's in the only lighthouse in the US to stand in the middle of a four lane highway.
This is the typical view riding from Biloxi to Pass Christian (Harrison County, MS). Beach on left, a lot of large vacant lots on right where high dollar beachfront homes used to sit.
The RT sitting on a side street among old live oaks that are still standing though obviously a few limbs thinner since Katrina passed through. The posts are all that's left of a fence once surrounding a prime lot.

This home was the only surviving building for several blocks.

Notice the rescuer's paint markings. It was searched 9-04, no bodies found here.
The death count in Harrison County contributed to Hurricane Katrina: 126.

Jack says he will be back, but I don't see any sign of him moving back just yet.

This old section of US90 highway leading to the old bridge is still half flooded and half sand covered.

The new US90 bridge between Pass Christian and Bay St. Louis.

Welcome to Bay Saint Louis - A Place Apart.
(click on photos to enlarge)

I came across the solitary building remains in Bay Saint Louis on Beachfront Boulevard.
It is painted with a message: Solid. Everything else in the vicinity has been razed and cleared.
I'm curious enough about what this building's purpose was before Katrina, that I decided to stop and get a closer look.

Seems to me that this was the safe portion of a bank. I guess that explains the "SOLID" message painted on the building. I suppose it will take more than your typical neighborhood bulldozer to demo this structure!

After circling around the town of Bay Saint Louis, I head to I10 in order to make the 300 miles into Texas before the weather hits. I know the weather is moving toward me from Texas, but I should have plenty time in following the fast herd on I10.

My plan went well until 10 miles west of Baton Rouge where we all slowed to a crawl. There must be an accident up ahead, but the question is . . . How far up ahead? After about five miles of constantly feathering the clutch, I decide it's time to make a decision. I see an exit up ahead that will provide me an escape north where I can catch US190 back west. I pull over a few feet past where the exit peels off and got the attention of the truck driver behind me.
As he pulls up next to me, I ask, "How much further does this problem go?"
"10 miles," he said. That decided it for me. I cut a right into the exit lane.

This delay causes me to meet the cold front sooner that I was planning. The winds whipped up and a few rain drops fell as the leading edge blew past me. A few gusts made a serious attempt at separating me from the RT. But the RT and I have bonded too well for that to happen!

My bailout route nearly doubled my miles to Lafayette. I bailed 39 miles back on the freeway, but arrive in Lafayette 68 miles later. The good news is that state highway 77 provided several miles of curvy road through Maringouin on the way to US190 and at Livonia, I joined the Acadiana Trail for a few miles (also known as the Evangeline Highway) that runs from Beaumont, Texas to Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
When I join back with the traffic on I10, the wind has settled down and the temps are a few degrees cooler. Still a good ride as I head to Texas! Just 100 miles to go. I settle in and enjoy the miles rolling by. By the time I get to the Sabine River, it's dark and the I notice a chill as I start to cross over the Sabine River bridge. But when I get to the top of the bridge, I'm watching the numbers drop on the RT's temperature gauge. When I roll off the bridge and onto Texas soil, the temperature has dropped a full 10 degrees since I left Louisiana -- less than 500 yards ago!

At the first exit in Texas, the rain is coming down in buckets. Then by the time I take the second exit, the frontage road is flooding. There's a couple inches that can't drain faster than it pours from the sky. I sit at the light watching the signal swing in the wind and then slowly make my way through the intersection when the light turns green. My friends live only two miles from I10. The rain is coming down so hard that I am depending on the GPS to let me know where to turn because I can't even see 20 feet ahead. Once in their neighborhood, I'm straining to see the driveway as I get close to their house--hoping I can make it out through the lack of visibility. I am relived to see that Carolyn has the garage door raised and the light on -- It's like a lighthouse signaling the path to safety for the wayward traveler. I can't see where the driveway meets the street through the water rushing along the curb, but I follow the light and manage to pull in safely to a dry garage. Thanks, Carolyn!

Sorry for the fuzzy photo, but I think this will spell out the weather I can expect for the next couple days. As you can see: Today-thunderstorms, 48 degrees; Tomorrow-rain showers, 36 degrees; Thursday-snow/rain mix 33 degrees. Welcome to Texas!

This Fleetering Trip will be continued in Fleeter Log #136b