The Tail of the Dragon

Snaking across the border between North Carolina and Tennessee, is US Route 129 – the famous Tail of the Dragon. Google it and you’ll see just how famous it is, and why. The ultra-curvy road draws thousands of motorcyclists and sports car enthusiasts every year. Most visitors leave with fond memories of a fun ride. Some leave behind pieces of their vehicles and their pride. And, yes, people have died there.

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The Tail of the Dragon starts at mile marker 0 at Deals Gap in North Carolina and ends at mile 11 in Tallahassee, TN – of course, you can run it both ways. We rode it from south to north in mid-July of 2017 on our way to Nashville. Here are a couple videos of that ride. The second video is sped up – just for the fun of it.

https://youtu.be/UD5njC9JehM

https://youtu.be/qz5YRGJq7J8

I found it to be somewhat technically challenging, due to the sheer number of turns; but we had a pretty good idea of what to expect going into it and, therefore, rode it very conservatively. By the time you roll out of a curve, it’s time to set up for the next one. In this way, it really forces you to stay on your game. There’s no time enjoy the scenery – eyes on the rode ahead. It was definitely fun. But, this story isn’t about the Tail of the Dragon, as impressive as it is.

“It’s not the destination it’s the glory of the ride.” – Giles Andreae

This story is about some of the roads we found on the way to the dragon.

We left Floyd, VA on a Sunday morning and headed westbound. The plan: to ride to Gatlinburg, spend the night there; leaving Monday open for lots of fun riding. Through Virginia and into North Carolina, Louise worked her navigation magic, finding some nice roads to travel and keeping us off the highways (because that’s how we roll). From Mountain City, NC we picked up US 421, still heading west. This incredible ribbon of blacktop meanders, twists, turns and weaves its way across a couple ridgelines, switching back on itself several times as it wriggles its way into Tennessee, crosses the Appalachian trail and continues on squiggling towards South Holston Lake. Check out this incredible 6-mile stretch.

We had no idea at the time that we were riding “The Snake 421” – it’s also known as “The Best of the Snake.” We were just trying to get a little lost. We didn’t see a great deal of motorcycle traffic on that beautiful Sunday; but, as it turns out, The Snake is gaining a reputation as a rival to its famous cousin over in Deals Gap. We will probably be back to ride it again one day, but there are so many great roads out there. Roads like the Cherohala Skyway, a National Scenic Byway connecting Tellico Plains, TN to Robbinsville, NC.

The Day of the Dragon

The bikes parked at our cabin at The Lodge at Tellico

Monday morning, we left Gatlinburg and rode through part of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, arriving at our overnight homestead in Tellico Plains around 1 in the afternoon. We rented rooms in a cabin at the Lodge at Tellico, a cozy, comfortable, motorcycle-friendly home away from home. After we unloaded our luggage in preparation for the Tail of the Dragon, we set out for an afternoon with our knees in the wind. The temperature was a perfect 87° F and the sun would be with us for another 8 hours. First up: the Cherohala Skyway.

Some roads are fun, some roads are beautiful. The skyway is both, with amazing panoramic views from elevations in the Cherokee and Nantahala forests. This was one of those “kick back and relax, here’s your moment of zen” rides. A nice, easy precursor to the Tail of Dragon.

The build-up, hype and touristy atmosphere of the Tail of the Dragon left us expecting more from what has been called “the ride of your life.” Maybe it’s because we prefer to ride where we feel alone with the wind and the rumble of the V-twin, or maybe it’s because we planned too much and anticipated even more. But, I really think its because the roads we discovered on the way there were so surprisingly wonderful; so were the roads heading home, especially the Black Dragon – but that’s another story.

If you have been thinking about riding the Tail of the Dragon, do it. Just make sure you enjoy the journey there, too. And try avoiding highways – it always pays off.

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So, What Does Happen When You Get a Flat Tire on a Motorcycle

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I used to wonder what it would be like to get a flat tire while riding a motorcycle. I did not really want to find out firsthand, I was just curious. Well, I guess you could say, “Curiosity willed the flat.”

It was day one of a 9-day motorcycle road trip to Nashville with another couple. Everything was off to a great start. The weather was perfect and the bike was purring like a tiger as we made our way from the Chesapeake Bay across the Potomac River with only minimal highway time. Maryland and Virginia are connected at Newburg and Dahlgren by the Gov. Harry W. Nice Memorial Bridge. This toll bridge is the only way to cross the Potomac from Southern Maryland, so we were burdened with more than a few miles of mandatory highway on US Route 301 South. The 135-foot-high span affords a beautiful view of the river, but the two opposing lanes of 50-MPH traffic demand your full attention as a rider.

The “Baby Dragon”

As we rode off the bridge, Louise called out the first of many Virginia turns – a right onto Dahlgren road followed by another right onto Caledon Road. That’s where the ride really started to get fun. If you ever find yourself in this area, do yourself a favor and give this road a run. Tree-lined twists and turns… nothing technically difficult, just enough to get your blood pumping. I thought, this is just a taste of what’s to come – we planned to ride the infamous “Tail of the Dragon” in a few days. We jokingly nicknamed this stretch of road “Baby Dragon” and we rode on – destination: Floyd, VA for wood-fired pizza and live music. If our estimates were correct, we would get there by 6PM.

Taking Our Sweet Time

We stopped for lunch at Los Tres Potrillos Mexican Restaurant in Louisa, Virginia. No hurry, we were on the bikes, so we took our time and relaxed. After about an hour (and some great food), we were back on the road.

Some of the best backroads will pop up as last-minute options on Google Maps (when the avoid highways option is selected), so, while Louise juggled the navigation on her phone, I simply settled into a relaxing ride waiting for her to call out my next turn. I knew we were north of Richmond and still southwest of Charlottesville, but, I really didn’t care where we were, exactly – I trust Louise to get us where we are going; my job is to keep the rubber side down, so that’s what I did. However, I didn’t expect the rubber to let us down.

Feeling a Little Deflated

Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, we paused at a STOP sign long enough for Louise to verify left, right or otherwise. It would be a right onto Scottsville Road, followed by a left onto Red Hill Road. As I pulled forward and leaned into a slow turn to the right, the lowest part of the bike’s frame scraped briefly on the asphalt. Now, the Softail Deluxe has the lowest ground-to-seat height of any Harley, which means that the lowest part of the frame is closer to the ground than even a Sportster (we would know, since several thousand of our tandem miles were on a 2006 Sportster 1200). We’ve scraped before, but always at speed. To scrape in a slow turn was new. I was convinced that I had just leaned too far in the turn – add to that the extra weight of our luggage weighing on the shocks. The bike still felt fine, so we continued with caution. It wasn’t until a few miles later, that we started to feel the rear end of the motorcycle sway with every turn. I would describe the feeling as squirrely, mushy, soft, not good.

Definitely flat

Red Hill Road – not much of a shoulder

Seriously? Two in the afternoon, five hours into our vacation, and this? A flat rear tire. Louise climbed off and I was able to get the bike off of the the road onto a grass “shoulder.” Ahh, Red Hill Road, one of Virginia’s many beautiful backroads. And there we would spend the next hour-and-a-half: calling around trying to arrange for a tow truck (more difficult on a Saturday afternoon in central Virginia than you might imagine); searching for an auto shop that just might be able to repair a flat motorcycle tire; watching and listening to the North Fork Hardware River run by us just past the tree line and down at the bottom of an embankment; and coordinating service with Shenandoah Harley Davidson in Staunton, VA (41 miles away, in the direction we had not planned to go.)

From 2 Wheels to 6

Albemarle Towing‘s driver, Tommy (a really cool guy and champion bluegrass guitar picker), showed up around 3:30. I have to admit, I was a little nervous about the thought of riding a motorcycle, flat tire and all, up onto the bed of a rollback, but I had help and no other options.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0D66YU3h21A

Fifteen minutes later, Tommy, Louise and I sat in the sweltering cab of the truck heading west. We would cross the Shenandoah Mountain Range between Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway – two beautiful roads we had ridden only ten months earlier. Not so beautiful from the cab of a tow truck rumbling along Interstate 64; yep, a highway.

All tied down for the ride

Louise and Tommy

The tow truck did not have air conditioning, but it did have a blower, which was blowing nothing but hot air into the cab. So, we kept the windows rolled down and Tommy kept us entertained for the 45-minute trip with stories of his years playing bluegrass music in the Shenandoah Valley. We kept checking behind us to make sure our friends were still in trail, and that our poor motorcycle was still secure on the flatbed. All was good. We arrived at Shenandoah Harley a little after 4:30.

The Definition of Customer Service

The Harley dealership closes at 5 PM on Saturdays, and we burned up 15 minutes just getting the bike off the rollback and paying Tommy the $300 towing fee – great way to start a vacation, right? But, the mechanic, Gavin, had promised to stay late to get us back on the road. The folks here definitely understand customer service.

The service department at Shenandoah H-D

Gavin removed the flat tire and inspected everything closely. The tire itself was still good with plenty of tread left on it. But the tube? Well, that was another story. Not only did the tube have a hole in it the size of the Grand Canyon, the valve stem popped off as Gavin was removing it from the wheel, and the entire tube was filled with goop that we collectively agreed was leftover “Fix-a-Flat” or something similar. We had bought the bike used when it had about 30,000 miles. The previous owner assured us that the tires and tubes only had about 500 miles at the time of purchase.

The lesson learned: when you buy a used bike, check EVERYTHING or have a mechanic do a thorough pre-buy. Had we known that tube was comprised, we probably would have been able to avoid this entire situation.

Gavin from Shenandoah Harley-Davidson test rides our bike after fixing the flat tire

Looking on the bight side, though: nobody got hurt; the bike was not damaged; we salvaged the tire and met some great people, turning this into a memorial adventure – an expensive adventure, but memorable, nonetheless.

Back on the road… I mean highway

The Adventure Continues

Leaving Staunton, we made the decision to take Interstate 81 South towards Floyd, VA. Another highway, but a necessary evil if we were going to beat the impending darkness, as it was now after 6 PM. And even though we hit some heavy traffic near Roanoke, we made it to Hotel Floyd with plenty of time to walk to Dogtown Roadhouse for some of the best wood-fired pizza in the world. I ordered the “Appalachian” – sausage, caramelized onion, aged white cheddar and goat cheese over an Apple Butter Base. Yes, it was even better than it sounds.

We also enjoyed live music by The Trongone Band, a unique jam band that channels the Allman Brothers, the Grateful Dead, with a nice blend of blues and funk.

But, the best part of the evening was sitting there having a cold beer, knowing that we made it through the first day of our trip safely. I’d say we were pretty lucky: we were going slow when it happened, it was the rear tire, and we had cell coverage. We took the flat tire in stride, and just let it be part of the adventure.

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What happens when one flies up your sleeve while cruising? Bees will be bees.

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Jeff’s Bee Story

An apiologist would probably take me to task for lumping all stinger-laden flying insects into the same category. And I mean no disrespect to honey bees, which serve a vital purpose in our ecosystem. But, for the sake of sharing my “bee” story along with Louise’s bee story (note the lack of finger quotes on hers), the title of this short tale shall remain “Jeff’s Bee Story.”

There we were, on the bike, southbound out of Maryland. We had the kickstand up before the sun finished its first cup of coffee. Today would kick off a 10-day, 10-state ride – our first motorcycle vacation together, and we would do it on a 2006 Harley-Davidson 1200 Custom. Yep, a Sportster. Loaded down with only the things we thought we would need, we entered our second state, Virginia. The sun had finally joined us on our adventure, I had switched the lenses in my goggles from yellow to black, and we were enjoying the ride. All was good with the world, and I relished in the thought that this would be our lives for the next week-and-a-half.

Then it happened. Something stabbed into my right forearm, underneath the leather sleeve of my jacket. I knew this feeling from somewhere: I was being electrocuted – no that wasn’t it; a hypodermic needle was no doubt sticking out of my arm – well, maybe not; it had to be a wasp (or the like). I immediately reverted to my extensive training and experience with insect attacks and… okay, I don’t really have extensive training – but I do have some personal experience with stinging insects from bees and wasps to hornets and yellow jackets. I didn’t have time to identify the culprit by name, order or suborder; I had to act… now. So, I did what made the most sense at the time: I lowered my arm and begin to shake it violently. Great idea. This would certainly coax the invader out of my sleeve. Or not.

Louise was not comforted by my sudden arm shaking (most likely, because removing my right hand from the throttle caused the bike to slow down – and we weren’t even close to our breakfast stop in the southern part of the DelMarVa peninsula), so she asked me, “What are you doing?” Well, that was the gist of it, anyway.

I replied, “I’m being stung.”

“Pull over,” was the response from the back seat. There was probably an exclamation point on the end of that sentence. And maybe the word “idiot.” Can’t remember.

So I pulled over, put down the kickstand, and jumped off the bike. As I ripped off my jacket, I briefly saw something small and dark fall to the ground. It disappeared, so I assumed it had been swallowed back into the depths of hell from whence it came. Now it was time to deal with the aftermath of the attack, and here’s the takeaway from this story: if you have a choice, marry a nurse. Apparently, Louise had heard (or read) that toothpaste is suitable first aid for an insect sting. She was right. Within minutes, the pain and swelling had subsided and my arm smelled minty-fresh.

Thank you, my dear wife and riding partner. You saved my life. Now let’s ride on to Cape Charles, VA for breakfast.

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I’ve written briefly about the Tail of the Dragon. Actually, the stuff about the Tail merely served as bookends for a story about some really cool roads we found by chance, en route to that famous ride along US 129. This is a story about the ride home, and how we stumbled upon The Black Dragon.

Here Comes The Rain

This serendipitous find happened because of weather and a missed turn. We had left Bardstown, KY a day earlier than planned. We were there to ride the Bourbon Trail in Western Kentucky. This would have been a nice day-ride with several stops, but a cold front was pushing in from the northwest, bringing rain through much of Kentucky. We had also planned to work our way back to Maryland through West Virginia and Western Maryland the following day. A quick look at My Radar told me that wasn’t happening. We would have to start moving east and stay south of our planned route. No Bourbon Trail on this trip.

We mounted the bikes and headed east on Route 15. Google Maps was not being generous with backroads, so we toughed it out and rode on the unshaded highway in temperatures that reached into the 90’s. It was uncomfortably hot (we didn’t know about about instant air conditioning yet). By the time we made it to Whitesburg, KY, with our fair share of Rt. 15 in the books, we were sufficiently worn out and parched. We decided to stop for some relaxation and hydration at an air-conditioned little place called Heritage Kitchen. One of the owners, Brad, greeted us kindly as we settled in for some much-needed iced tea. He asked us about our travels, and we asked him for some help finding some fun roads.

We were looking for the best ways to get to Abingdon, VA. That was our newly agreed-upon overnight stop. Brad told us we had to get past Black Mountain and there were three options: around it to the north, around it to the south, and over the top. Louise and I looked at each other: “Over the top? Sign us up.” Then we found out that the over-the-top option would add about 2 hours to the ride. Louise and I looked at each other again: “Sign us up.” Our riding partners wanted to shave some time off this leg, so we compromised and agreed to take the north route, with a slight diversion: South Route 119 – a road familiar with the cooling shade of trees; a road willing to twist and turn a little to give into the shape and slope of the earth.

And It Gets Better

I told you earlier that we stumbled upon one of the “really cool roads” partly because of a missed turn. Well, 4 paragraphs, 200 miles, and about a gallon of iced tea later, we get to that part of the story.

After a nice ride through a gap in some hills, the directions told us to turn left onto 932 near Eolia, KY and follow a winding road through a some valleys molded by the adjacent ridges. We had plenty of advanced notice, and Louise called out the turn several times. As we got closer, I saw what looked almost like a driveway cutting to the left at an angle that was much more than 90 degrees. Ahead of us, the road we were on was also bearing to the left. This must be one of those times when the mapping software calls out a curve as a turn – happens a lot. So, I stayed on 119, while Google Maps tried to recalculate – again and again. I had clearly missed the turn.

Turn Around or Get Lost?

If you have ever used a mapping app or GPS, you know that the system will recognize when you’ve missed a turn. Most of the time, it immediately offers a new course, with a new ETA, and all is well. Sometimes the new course is simply a U-turn to herd you back to your previous route. That’s the guidance we were given by the app – turn around. Well, sometimes a U-turn isn’t prudent; especially when there is no safe place to turn around and you’re on a motorcycle.  Google Maps, nonetheless, kept insisting we go back whence we came.

I was certain the software would eventually get the point and offer an option that did not involve turning around, so we pushed on. And boy, did our stubbornness pay off. The road we were following had a fresh blacktop with recently-painted double yellow lines following gentle turns. It seemed to be an exceptionally well-built and maintained route which was taking us to lower elevations and we could see several quarries to our left. I surmised that the road was maintained this well to accommodate the large trucks carrying minerals out of this hollow. And I was beginning to think that we might be on a one-way ride to the bottom of a dig. Fortunately I was wrong, and the ride was about to really get good.

Up, Up, Up

Google Maps finally conceded and gave us a route that did not involve U-turns. We followed the map’s blue arrow onto Kentucky Route 160 South. It started out a little slow, as we passed through Cumberland and Lynch (two small adjacent mining towns in eastern Harlan County). Before long, the route became a scenic, tree-lined two-lane road. It followed the contours of the rising terrain; up and up, left and right, hugging rock walls on one side while revealing steep drop-offs on the other.

The outside temperature dropped as we climbed, and the canopy of trees never wavered, providing near-constant shade – brief thoughts of donning a jacket actually crossed my mind. When the blue sky popped out in all its glory, we found ourselves on top of the world. Well, we were certainly at the top of Kentucky – a roadside sign declared our location at the top of Black Mountain, the highest point in the state: 4,145 feet above sea level.

The Black Dragon

We had accidentally stumbled upon one of the greatest roads we’ve ridden. We later discovered that this path over the top of Black Mountain is part of what is known as The Black Dragon Loop, a popular motorcycle route. We took a short break for pictures of the scenic expanse before us which was as much Kentucky as it was Virginia. We were on the state line, so the ride down from the mountain would be in the Old Dominion. It was just as fun as the ride up the other side, swerving and bending back and forth with a couple switchbacks thrown in for good measure.

By the end of this day, we were exhausted. That good kind of exhaustion where the beer tastes better and the sleep comes quicker. We had ridden some fine roads; following rivers and hills through villages and forests; in sun and shade (no rain); and over the top of a mountain. All because we let ourselves get lost. Try it… you’ll like it.

The post The Trails from the Tail of the Dragon, Part I appeared first on Avoiding Highways.

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The Back of the Dragon

When an opportunity to ride the Tail of the Dragon first popped up, I did some research. I wanted to know what I was getting into. Wouldn’t you? If you Google the term, you’ll find a plethora of websites with maps, stories, reviews and pictures. A YouTube search will yield more videos than you’ll ever have time to watch, some of which might even scare you away from US 129.

A couple friends had recently ridden the infamous route, so I reached out to them for some advice. “LEAN” was capitalized in texts I received from them both. I also found out that one of them had taken his eyes off a curve for a split second and ended up putting his bike down. In addition to the uppercase recommendation, was an admonition to look all the way through the turns – don’t try to take in the scenery. This is a valuable takeaway from any motorcycle safety course: look where you want to go – the bike will follow.

My friends also suggested we try the Back of the Dragon in southwestern Virginia. I conducted the requisite internet searches and found a ride which promises 438 curves spread out over 32 miles of blacktop. Route 16 slithers across part of the Appalachian Mountains between Marion and Tazewell, VA. I was intrigued by how the technically challenging twists and turns are bundled with smooth curves, offering a fun ride with elevated scenic vistas that riders can relish safely. I added the route to my wishlist.

Your Wish is Granted

So, there we were: on the backside of a nine-day motorcycle vacation. Having rerouted for weather, we now found ourselves in this neck of the woods with time to play. A sign to the right of Park Blvd. (VA Rt. 16N) modestly welcomed us to Marion, “Gateway to the Back of the Dragon.” After a quick photo op, we jumped on the bikes and set out. It was eleven in the morning on a sunny Saturday in July and the temperature had just reached a very comfortable 80° F. We were ready to ride, so we did. Right into a traffic jam.

The southern point of the Back of the Dragon starts at Hungry Mother State Park. If you plan to do this ride, check the event schedule for the park. We spent what felt like an eternity inching along with families heading to the Hungry Mother Festival in a 4-mile back-up that left us wondering if the ride would ever happen. Eventually, we passed the entrance to the festival and the road opened up.

The first serpentine turns showed up minutes later, and the roller coaster began.
First, we weaved our way up to the top of Walker Mountain, trees to the left of us, trees to the right. Cresting the ridge, we started a winding decent down to the valley below as the canopy broke up here and there, revealing rolling hills and rugged mountains. We crossed the Holston River where the road stretched out a bit, giving us a little break. Then we were climbing again, turning left and right and back again as we traced the terrain.

https://youtu.be/-goZh81Futs

The ride continued on for another fun, beautiful twenty miles, eventually settling into a nice jaunt through the countryside. We crossed three mountains on this route, which eventually dumped us out in Tazewell, VA. If you’re looking for the welcome center and store, don’t blink. I saw it as we rode by, only because I knew to look for a small building that almost looks like a construction trailer on the far side of a parking lot off of Main Street.

So Many Roads, So Little Time

The Back of the Dragon is a small part of a bigger network of roads known as The Claw of the Dragon. If you are ever in the area, set aside some time to explore. And remember to let yourself get lost once in a while.

We set out for Nashville in July 2017 with another couple. On the trip, we rode the Snake 421, the Cherohala Skyway, the Tail of the Dragon, the Black Dragon, the Back of the Dragon, a little winding road near Dahlgren, Virginia which we’ve nicknamed the Baby Dragon, and many other side roads, backroads, and even highways. We rode down Main Street through countless little towns and even got a flat tire in the middle of nowhere.

Where next?

The post The Trails from the Tail of the Dragon, Part II appeared first on Avoiding Highways.

There’s an App for That

I have an app on my phone called MyRadar. Even with all of the weather resources available to the technologically adept, this is one of my favorite realtime tools for tracking storms. As a pilot, I find it invaluable – especially when I use it on one of my other favorite tools: the iPad. The app gives you a 2-dimensional animated view of Doppler radar in your area.

Screen grab from MyRadar on a ride through Pennsylvania

As motorcyclists, Louise and I swear by it when storms are near. We have used the green, yellow and red globs to help us maneuver away from impending weather phenomena. Pro tip: green globs get you wet; yellow globs get you really wet; red globs make you question your life decisions.

 The Freedom of the Road

Louise and I decided to take a day trip to visit with family. Actually, we set out on a very short ride close to home. We just wanted to feel the road rushing under our wheels. As we left Kent Island and checked MyRadar, it became clear that Mother Nature would prefer that we kept heading east. Who are we to argue with Momma N.? Louise texted her cousin and soon we were on our way towards Delaware.

Heading east away from the storm

A couple weather systems were conspiring to drench us, but we were having none of it. Brief glances at the radar gave us an idea which way to head to stay ahead of the downpours. We easily evaded the rain and had a nice visit with the peeps. Then we jumped back on the bike under sunny skies and headed west.

There’s an app that is as good (if not better in some ways) than MyRadar. It’s called My Eyes. As we pointed the front tire towards home, I saw a darkening sky before us. No problem, we got this. And we rode on. Into the storm(s).

Here Comes the Rain

We did our best to coordinate what we saw on the app with what we saw in the sky, and where we were with where we wanted to be. Home wasn’t in the cards right now. Again, converging storms seemed to know where we were supposed to be, so we obliged. And we found ourselves in Harrington, DE, in the parking lot of the Stargate Diner on US Rt. 13 as the first rainfall began. This should provide sufficient shelter from the storm, so we dismounted and made our way inside.

Welcome to the Twilight Zone

First appearances are important. Apparently our first appearance in the Stargate Diner was out of step with the expectations of those people already inside. As we crossed the threshold and entered the main lobby area, all voices quieted and all eyes turned – toward us. We were not soaking wet and and we didn’t have antennae growing from the tops of our heads… or did we? Whatever the reason, we were the center of the universe (their universe, anyway) for a minute. When that minute was over, we no longer mattered.

I was hungry and thankful to be in a dry place. I would have been content with anything at this point – iced tea, fries, soup, time to wait out the storm. Louise still had not come to grips with our ticker tape parade welcoming. So, we made our way to the front of the building, where donned our rain gear. Even though the bulk of the storm wasn’t completely upon us yet, the MyRadar app confirmed the light sprinkles coming down were just the beginning of something much greater. We jumped on the bike as the rain got heavier and we got wetter, minute-by-minute.

Burger Quest

While I had been fiddling with radar on my phone, Louise had been thumbing through TripAdvisor on hers, looking for burgers. A place called Jeff’s Taproom & Grille, 13.5 miles to the south popped up with some good reviews, so off we went. And here came the storm.

Riding in the rain is not only uncomfortable, it’s dangerous. Visibility is severely reduced, traction is limited, breaking distance is increased, you get wet. And along with getting wet, comes the fogging of the goggles. As we rode along at a slower than normal pace, I had to constantly wipe my goggles with a wet-gloved hand to try and clear my view. What normally would be an 18-minute cruise down Rt 13, turned into a half-hour ride from hell.

We Made It

Parked outside of Jeff’s Taproom & Grille

We finally reached our destination, Jeff’s Taproom and Grille. We parked the bike in the parking lot out back, and made our way inside (though a door that was also in the back). The door opened with a creak and we were no longer taking a shower. The entrance is a short hallway that opens up to the bar/restaurant area. Here, we paused and shook the water from our rain gear. The atmosphere seemed to change a bit, and we felt the now-familiar all-eyes-are-on-you feeling. Is this a Delaware thing or are we truly aliens?

From out of the moment of silence came a lone voice: “Is it raining, yet?” We laughed. They laughed. We all laughed. We were welcome here.

Along with a bowl of the richest French onion soup this side of Paris, we decided to split a Grilled Cheeseburger. Quoting the menu: “Why just have an ordinary roll?! Two pieces of Texas Toast and cheese make this burger an overstuffed grilled cheese!” We upgraded to Krinkle-Cut Fries for an extra 2 bucks.

The crowd at Jeff’s was a welcoming, friendly, comedic bunch who were as interested in us as we were in them. We found a friend in a guy named Clay – a wheel-chair-bound veteran who told us about his specially outfitted Sportster. He didn’t ride it today because of the rain. Duh.

By the way, the burger was so good, we made Jeff’s one of our go-to stops on bike rides with friends. We have been back a few more times, and we will be back many more. Rain or shine.

The post What Are We… Aliens? The Rainiest Ride to The Best Burger appeared first on Avoiding Highways.

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One Extreme to Another

Group ride on a sunny day

We’ve traveled backroads and highways, wet roads and dry roads, paved roads, gravel roads, hilly roads, flat roads, winding roads and straight roads. We’ve hit the roads alone and with friends. We’ve ridden in the heat of summer and on the coldest winter days. We’ve tasted pollen, dirt, exhaust, a few bugs, and rain. We’ve smelled campfire smoke, honeysuckle, freshly cut grass, and rain. We’ve jumped on the bike before the sun was up, ridden all day, and watched the sun set from the backroads; and, by default, we have ridden at night.

We’ve been from one extreme to another, and I wouldn’t trade one minute of it for anything in the world. The extremes get your blood pumping while you’re in the moment, and leave memories that last long after you’ve parked the bike safely at home.

Finally, a Dry Day

We left Prestonsburg, KY on a Thursday morning near the end of our 10-day, 10-state ride. The last few miles the night before had been in the rain. Interestingly, while we had enjoyed nice weather for most of the previous 8 days, we had ridden through some rain every single day. This particular morning, our riding gear included jackets, gloves and chaps. It was 50° with a forecasted high of 67°; NO RAIN expected. We were looking forward to a nice ride along some beautiful hidden backroads through Kentucky, West Virginia and Western Maryland. A home-cooked meal at Louise’s mother’s house in Frostburg, MD awaited us.

The Country Music Highway

Google maps offered up a seven-and-a-half hour riding day covering about 350 miles, a portion of that along the Country Music Highway (US Route 23), a National Scenic Byway stretching 144 miles north and south through eastern Kentucky. Well, this road certainly lives up to it’s title as a highway – four divided lanes of wide-open road with reasonable speed limits. If you don’t mind riding highways, or if you want to spend a day exploring Kentucky’s rich heritage, this route might be worth checking out. We found it to be somewhat boring – since we didn’t plan to stop and visit any of the parks, music venues, historic sites or museums. It was also a little tedious, since many of the cars and trucks seemed to be traveling way too fast or way too slow.

Almost Heaven

Parked along a road in Kentucky

What a relief to finally bail off the highway and pick up some winding, hilly backroads as we bid farewell to the Bluegrass State and entered Wild and Wonderful West Virginia. If you ever have an opportunity to ride in this state, give yourself plenty of time to explore. I’d recommend a day or two.

We followed railroad tracks meandering around mountains, taking the paths of least resistance, like the rivers they follow. Some of our chosen routes took us through tiny unincorporated villages, which hard-working coal miners call home. We felt the temperatures rise and fall as we passed in and out of the shadows of tree canopies and mountains. We knew we were fortunate to have this chance to be in a very real and beautiful part of America.

Bring on the Night

This was a good day. This was a long day. This day came to an end and became night while we were still making our way to the northeast towards Frostburg and that home-cooked meal (and cocktails by the fire). With the setting sun came the dropping temperatures. Remember, 40° F at 50 MPH feels like 10°. When we stopped for fuel, we bundled up a little more. We both added face masks to our ensembles, and we put our rain gear on over our leather. This helped to tame the sting, but not enough. Cold is an extreme that is best taken in small doses. The longer we rode on this cold dark night, the more difficult it became.

Deer in the Headlights

As we rounded a corner, I saw a deer standing not far from the side of the road. So, now I had to contend with the thought of riding right through a designated deer crossing in the dark while freezing to death. I turned on the high beam, only to have to drop it to low every time I saw the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. This went on for what felt like hours, while my body’s core temperature seemed to drop to Mount Everest Camp IV levels. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. But, when you combine multiple stressors (cold, dark, oncoming cars, unpredictable wildlife), everything is open to hyperbole.

I Can’t Move

It all came to a head when we were so close to Mom’s house we could smell the food. We paused at a STOP sign in familiar territory – we were finally in Frostburg. I put my feet down to steady the bike and immediately realized that rigor mortis had set in on my legs. I could not lift them back up – I was really that cold. We only had about three miles to go to feel the warmth of that wood stove in the library. This thought was the talisman that broke the spell. I drew upon every bit of strength I could muster and was able to slowly bend my legs and reach the foot controls.

Home Sweet Home

As we rode down National Pike through the heart of this historic town, I prayed for green lights and my prayers were answered. The new garage attached to the old Victorian was open and vacant. My mother-in-law’s car was parked along the street. “Come on in and sit a spell,” said the warm lights. And, so we did. I can’t say I’ve ever felt more at home in somebody else’s home.

The dinner, the fire, the Jack and Coke, the company… all so warm. So very warm.

Thanks, Mom.

The morning of Day 10

The post Riding a Motorcycle at Night Sucks – The Frosty Ride to Frostburg appeared first on Avoiding Highways.

Motorcycle Trip to the Painted Sky Alpaca Farm… guess what?  I kissed an alpaca and I liked it!

Okay…I didn’t really kiss THIS Alpaca… but this little guy sure was cute! I love animals and it really doesn’t matter where we are or what we are doing, as soon as I see an animal or a group of animals I’m sucked in, in big way. I have been known to make Jeff turn around several miles after spotting an animal(s)… when I say SEVERAL miles, I mean we can be 5 miles down the road!

I can’t help myself, it’s an addiction. It is. This is how I know… my first instinct is to NOT interrupt our trip just because I saw a group of pygmy goats… but then, I just can’t get them out of my mind and I KNOW I will never have fun again if I don’t go check them out. I HAVE to do it! See… I’m addicted. It’s okay though because Jeff is the most wonderfully supportive husband and he will always turn around to say hello or snap a pic of our new furry friend.

I remember the first time I saw an Alpaca on the side of the road. Yes, I made Jeff stop. Yes, they were in someone’s yard. Yes, we named them and took pictures. Yes, I’m addicted. Meet our friend, Taco. This is the caption I wrote for Facebook: Look who came to say hi… he came running when we went by on the bike. Had to turn around and introduce ourselves! So adorable!

See… addicted. It’s all good.

Now that you have a sneak peak into my animal addiction, I can’t wait to share our Motorcycle Trip to the Painted Sky Alpaca Farm & Fiber Mill!

My friend, Jenny, has been wanting to check out this Alpaca farm on the Eastern Shore of Maryland for the past year and just hadn’t gotten around to it. So when we were planning a motorcycle day trip at the end of October, 2017 (an unusually warm day for us), we decided to make the trip.

Jenny and I planned out the back roads we would take and off we went!

First Stop, the unplanned Car Show!

We usually plan a few stops along the way to break up the ride and our first stop was a little hole-in-the-wall, Lena’s. Unbeknownst to us, they were having a car show. So, while Jenny and I had a cocktail, the boys looked at all the cool cars and picked up a couple cookies! I wish I had taken a few picture of the cars, some of them were pretty cool; even for a non-car person like me.

Next Up: The Painted Sky Alpaca Farm & Fiber Mill!

When we arrived, we were greeted by the owners and shown around. We met the kitty cats that occupy the barn and were given some history about the farm. There is a lot more that goes into raising Alpacas than I ever even considered! The Dickenson’s bought their farm in Cecil County, Maryland in 2002 before Alpacas were on their radar. They wanted to find a way to have the farm help pay for itself and stumbled upon some literature about Alpacas. They proceeded to do some research, visit some farms and they jumped right in to the Alpaca business.

As the owner showed us around and took us right in with the Alpacas (yep! were standing right beside them!), he went into great detail how they choose an Alpaca; how they breed and sell Alpacas; and even how they harvest the fiber and then turn it into beautiful clothing and accessories. It was truly fascinating and I think we spent over 3 hours talking with the owner and visiting their gift shop.

The gift shop is incredible and I was able to pick up a few unique Christmas presents for my mom & sister. They have some beautiful things!

It was super cool to know that I just petted the Alpaca that donated their fiber for the ball of yarn I bought my mom! I can’t wait to see what she makes with it. Here’s Teddy, the donor… isn’t he cute? 

I kissed an alpaca and I liked it!

I did it! I kissed an Alpaca… and I LOVED it! This little girl was so friendly and so incredibly soft!

Truth be told, I wanted an Alpaca farm for months after leaving there! Although it’s a lot of work, these little cuties each have their own personality and what fun they are! If you are ever in Cecil county, Maryland or the surrounding areas, I highly suggest a visit to The Painted Sky Alpaca Farm.

If you lean in and listen real close… they might just tell you a secret!

Our friend, Jeff, never would tell us what his new buddy said.

Here is an overview of the back roads we took to get to The Painted Sky Alpaca Farm

As always, live life in the scenic lane!

Til next time,

Louise

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