After the storm

Sticks.  Little, tiny sticks.  Twigs really.  You don't really notice them when you're driving around in a car, but they sure do have an impact when you're riding.

This week, we had a couple of days when big, nasty storms blew through town.  Luckily, no major damage was done, no loss of life, no substantial damage to property.  That said, it did blow down lots of little twigs, all over the place.

I got my first taste when I backed the FJR out of the garage.  My driveway is steep, so I have to be careful when I'm turning around.  I put my left foot down to hold the bike in place so I could fire the engine and start my day, when my foot slipped, just a little.  Not enough to drop the bike, not even close.  Just enough to make me think really hard about that little twig separating my foot from the driveway, causing an ever-so-slight roll in my ankle.

Off to work, gorgeous morning.  Sunny, crisp, cool, perfect day.  Rolling up to a stoplight, I put my feet down when...my left foot slips again.  Not a big, sliding, jarring movement.  Just a little slip.  I look down, and sure enough, another twig.  Again, no danger of dropping the bike, just a little reminder to be extra careful.

Just remember, after a storm blows through, or when you hit an area where storms have recently passed - watch for the sticks.  Sometimes, it's the little things.

Night Rider

There is just something brilliant about riding at night.  I went for a nice loop this evening, and everything just felt magical.  The tunnel created by headlights is never ending, and one that I crave, especially on a night like tonight.

The temperature was cool, hovering in the high fifties.  Not many bugs.  Nice clean face shield.  That is something Schuberth really improved when developing the C3 as opposed to the C2 - the optics are phenomenal.  No starbursts, no peripheral distortions.  Just a wide, crystal-clear field of view.

Anyway, minimal traffic and a tunnel of light.  The muted roar of the wind, the soft hum of the engine.  It's the kind of thing that makes me want to just keep riding until the sun comes up.

2013 Georgia Guidestone Trip

Catching up on a bit of history, here's a write-up of a trip I took last summer down to see the Georgia Guidestones.

It all started with reading about the Georgia Guidestones while following the IBR over the years.  I made a mental note to go see it some day.  Since the weather had been so uncommonly cool, August 2013 seemed to be as good a time as any.

The route planning was easy.  Lets see, northeast Georgia from Indiana.  I had yet to ride the Dragon yet on the FJR, so that was in, as was the Cherohala Skyway.  Thanks to some good advice and Google Maps, so was GA-60 from Morganton to Dahlonega.  A college buddy in Atlanta I had not seen for years offered a great place to overnight.

I decided to blow out of work at lunch on Friday and boogie down to Alcoa TN, just south of Knoxville, so I could wake up in the mountains with tasty roads surrounding me.  Rain coming down hard, I rode to work.  Finished up some last-minute items, saddled up, and headed south.  True to the radar, I had steady rain from South Bend to Peru, IN:

The sun came out, the road dried up, and I started roasting in my rain gear.  Time to pit for gas, stow the gear, and hit the road.

The rest of the trip to Alcoa went quickly, with me getting more and more amped up as the miles ticked by.  The weather was phenomenal, the roads great, the traffic light and fast, and I was able to get off the road and be done before 9 pm.  I was getting more and more excited – so nice to see mountains again.

Unwinding after the ride, looking at the laptop and doing time estimates, I decided to get going early on Saturday morning.  This would accomplish two major things for me – hitting the Dragon when it was not crowded and maximizing time with my buddy.  I targeted wheels turning by 05:00.  As usual, when filled with anticipation, I slept poorly and beat my target by about 20 minutes.

Let me tell you, there are very, very few folks on the road before 5.  Inky dark.  Aux lights lit up, I made my way to the Dragon.  Got some cool shots of deserted landmarks:

I really liked this shot of Stich the dragon on the TN side:

So I tried to replicate the eyes with a shot of my taillights at the scenic lookout point about halfway up the Dragon:

I could not accurately capture the faint outline of the mountains with my iPhone, so here’s a shot that I could get:

This is a shot from the same spot when I rode through in '08.

It's really, really pretty in the daytime.  And remarkably dark at night - no light pollution, no sound, no people.

So.  The Dragon in the Dark.  It.  Was.  Awesome.  Nobody on the road, at all.  No photographers, at all.  Nothing but the road.  There was only the road, nothing else.  Singularity of focus and purpose.  Bike locked in second gear, riding The Pace.  Aux lighting critical to enjoyment.  Stopped at the scenic lookout point to just drink in the silence.  No sound, no engines, no bikes, no cars, no nothing.  Just peace and quiet.  The only thing visible was the faintest mountain silhouette to the east in the pre-dawn light.  If you have the opportunity, I highly recommend it.

I rolled through the resort on the far side, saw the Tree of Shame without making a contribution, and headed south.

I finally found what I was looking for:

Getting lighter now, still nobody on the road.  Bike locked in third gear, riding The Pace with a little added gusto on long straights, getting my lean on and enjoying the beautiful scenery:

Such wonderful peace and quiet.  Nobody around.  Imagine, the entire Skyway to yourself.  On the descent into Tellico, I did see a Miata coming my way, but that was it.  Wonderful.

About the only downside to early morning riding is the fact that places like this are closed:

TN68 to GA60, wonderful road.  GA60?  Holy cow.  Absolutely incredible.  Great elevation changes, lovely scenery, immaculate roads, no gravel.  Primarily third gear, I focused on getting my head down, my shoulders forward and down, and looking through the curves.  I overtook a bicyclist and caught a guy on an Harley XR1200X.  I followed him for a while, enjoying the sound and smell of his bike.  Nice popping sounds on deceleration.  After he let me by, I resumed my Pace, with respectable lean angles and lots of smiles:

The ride from Dahlonega to the Guidestones was an exercise in frustration and the need for a GPS.  Accidents everywhere.  Roads closed, traffic diverted.  I tried trusting my sense of direction and ended up 5 miles into a gravel track in the middle of nowhere.  Fortunately for me, a power company truck came by and the nice gents pointed me the way to the nearest paved road.  Much obliged, thanks, good to be on pavement again.

I kept having to pull over and fiddle with my phone to try and figure out a decent route.  Need to do a GPS, possibly a ram ball on the left bar in the mirror hole mount?  On the to-do list for the off-season. (note - I solved this issue in early 2014 with a RAM mount using the bolts which hold the gas tank down - stable, secure, and easy to use - the X-Grip holds my phone and the BatteryTender USB power adapter works really well)

The Guidestones were interesting to see.  Nobody was there, just me.  A curiosity for sure.  Big.  Quiet.  I spent ten minutes photographing and thinking about who and why.

My stomach reminded me of its neglect, so I headed west to Atlanta, where I was treated like a king.  It was almost embarrassing.  After a shower and consenting to letting my laundry be done, we drove into Roswell for some Millionaire Mojitos, followed by cappuccino.

Dinner at home: wild Alaskan salmon on the grill, risotto, homemade limoncello.  Yes please!  So good to catch up, the years just melted away.  Almost asleep on the couch, we finally call it a night and pack it in.

I got a bit of a late start the next day, saddling up after breakfast around 10:30.  A little concerned with time (~680 miles), I decide to slab.  I had a quick trip out of Atlanta towards Chattanooga, only to see signs over the interstate saying all lanes closed in 40 miles.  Gah!  When I pulled into a tourist information center for some heat relief, the nice ladies there highlighted alternate routes on Tennessee back roads. I figured all the interstate traffic is going to be clogging the back roads, so I head into Alabama.

Temperature is climbing now and I’m getting a bit fatigued.  Pit for gas, soak my long-sleeved tshirt in cold water.  Ah yes, much better, air conditioning is on as the wind flows through my vents.  It felt so good and perked me right up.  Onward on 72!  Cut through Rocket City before angling northwest and picking up I-65.

Traffic!  The bane of my return trip.  Jammed going into Nashville.  Jammed between Nashville and Louisville.  At least the temperature was falling.  Final gas stop, fire up the aux lights, and the temperature fell to 57 by the time I got home just after midnight.  Ended up being 770 miles, not 680.  Grip heaters kept my hands happy, and closed vents kept the rest of me happy.

Trip stats: 1740 miles, 43.9 mpg.

Slightly longer than planned - every part enjoyable.

My Olympia gear worked great, as did my Schuberth C3.  The FJR, as expected, never missed a beat.  It is simply an incredible motorcycle.  Smooth, powerful, reliable, and relatively rare – only saw two others on my trip.  It does everything I want it to and more, burns regular gas, and is reliable to a fault.

What did I learn on this adventure?  I love to look around.  I like to see things, hang out with friends, and chat with travelers and natives alike.  But fundamentally for me, when I’m riding, it’s all about the road.  I love following the road.  I love looking at side roads and following them.  “Dangerous curves and steep grades next 33 miles” signs make me happy.  Time is the biggest constraint.  I like to wander.  I like feeling alive.

There is something about being constantly in motion that is energizing.  I just feel more alive.  Decisions are made quickly, all the senses are vivid, in higher definition.  Moving along on a motorcycle is just so much more stimulating than physically moving along through the office.

It’s all about the road.  Follow the road.

And be thankful there are great people along the way and at the end of it.

Another day, another 866 miles

This was a vastly different kind of trip.  A cross-country journey with my family.  The five of us loaded up our Honda Odyssey with a dresser, suitcases, boxes, bags, more boxes, computers, and about 18,000 books before a 866 mile, 14.5 hour jaunt.

A couple of thoughts on this trip.  First off, the family was a delight to be with.  I have always loved family road trips, and continue to do so.  The entire world shrinks down to just this little capsule hurtling across the country, filled with the most important people in my world.  It provides an opportunity to talk, laugh, read, sleep, eat, listen to music, sing along, and just generally be together.

The kids were phenomenal.  Fun to be with and insightful, we rotated seats at every stop.  I enjoyed every configuration, with my son or wife up front with me.  I was focused on knocking down the miles, and my wife did a great job keeping everyone fed and in high spirits

It rained for essentially the entire state of Pennsylvania.  At times, it came down so hard and so thick, visibility deteriorated and we could not carry on a conversation at normal volumes due to the sound of the rain hammering on the car.  We just slowed down and laughed - what else can you do?  I do believe I made the comment that at least I wouldn't have to wash the bugs off the car...

Allow me a brief ode to the Odyssey.  It's a phenomenal vehicle.  We put more things into it than we had a right to, and it just happily shuttled us across the country in comfort, returning respectable mileage (mid-20s) and maintaining a decent pace (moving average of 68.9 mph).  I can't imagine life without a van, at least for the next 15-20 years.

Driving at night.  Well, I have to say, after my my most recent motorcycle adventure, I much prefer riding at night to driving.  There's something about being out there on a motorcycle, enjoying the wind and the smells and the clarity of vision.  Of course, the auxiliary lights probably have something to do with that...

As I motored along, I kept thinking about what a different trip it would have been on the FJR.  The rain would have been felt in a much more personal way.  Physically, it would have been a more demanding journey.  Sitting in the Odyssey, with automatic climate control, seat heaters, and all the comforts one could every want in a vehicle of that nature, seemed just so...easy.  The van is so good at isolation it allows you to focus on who you are with, as opposed to pavement irregularities and temperature/humidity variances.

Next road trip will be a journey to Ithaca, New York, next month with one of my colleagues.  Ithaca is about 570 miles away.  Looking forward to a fun drive with a good person in a fine car.