Smoky Mountain Trip May, 2011

I first visited the smokey mountains of eastern Tennessee soon after Elise and I were married and vowed that I'd return someday, but on a motorcycle. Who knew that it would take me 30 years to make that trip a reality!  Now having made it, all I can say is "what took me so long?" AND "I can't wait to go back!"

As always, Valek, my riding buddy, was more than happy to let me take care of the trip plans, which I enjoy, in part because I have always loved perusing over maps and i part because I love traveling adventures.  The added challenge to planning a route for Valek and I is that we always camp along the way and it is not always as easy to get campsite information ahead of time, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

We started planning in April for a trip in late May of 2011.   You may recall that the Midwest was flooded badly that particular Spring - mostly due to upper Midwest snow melt and heavy rains creating an historic flooding potential in the upper Mississippi and Missouri watersheds. That translated into higher than normal downstream levee releases, some levee breaches and millions of acres of farmland underwater. So, our moto-trip planning began with visits to the Missouri and Illinois Departments of Transportation web sites to check for closed and/or flooded roads. The MO-DOT site is outstanding - easy to use, full of up to the minute information, and accessible by smartphone from the road (which might have helped had I been smart enough to take advantage of that)!

Cuba, MO; Go Wildcats!

Our plan was to cut diagonally (from northwest to southeast) across Missouri ending up at Ste. Genevieve, MO, an early 18th century French settlement along the Mississippi River.  My interest in St. Genevieve was in part the historic significance of the town, but, perhaps even more so, because the only way across the MS river from Ste. Genevieve is by ferry!  Can you imagine, ferrying your motorcycles across the MO river?!   Conjures up images of a steamboats and Huck Finn!

All indications were that the ferry was still running despite the high water. Even when we got to town folks told us, the "ferry was running yesterday and if the flood gates are open then you're probably in luck".

The French Quarter of Ste. Genevieve, MO

Ste. Genevieve was beautiful (well worth a return trip). The French Quarter (they actually call it the French Quarter) consisted of dozens of square blocks of 18th century brick and heavy timber buildings that rival some of those of the New Orleans French Quarter.  After receiving directions from some locals at a quaint cafe, we rode on, holding our breath as we made our way to the ferry landing. The Mississippi was definitely high and although the 18-foot steel flood gates were open, I had mixed feelings as we rode through them  - excited that the gates were open and the possibility of catching the ferry, but consumed by an odd sense of being well below the river bank - as we made our way parallel to the mighty (and swollen) Mississippi.

The (submerged) Mississippi River Ferry Landing at Ste. Genevieve, MO

 Mixed feeling quickly resolved to an acceptance of the fact that the ferry landing was deep underwater and we'd better start looking for an alternate crossing point somewhere down-river. Fortunately that was Chester, IL, about 25 miles south. The bridge across the Mississippi at Chester was spectacular, as were many of the bridges we crossed along the way that spanned the Mississippi, Ohio, and Tennessee rivers.

Chester is home to the Southern Illinois Penitentiary, the second oldest state prison in Illinois (cir. 1878).  The sight of the mid-19th century brick structure - surrounded by double razor-wire-adorned high walls and machine gun-equipped towers looming dark and tall along the Mississippi river bank - painted (for me) a sobering deterrent from a nefarious lifestyle....To the inmates, however, I guess it's just home-sweet-home.

We made camp the first night just east of Carbondale, IL in Crab Orchard State Park. Although the weather had been cool for late May (low to mid 50s) and wet as the day went on. Our stay at Crap Orchard Park, was the nicest camping experience of the entire trip.  What we (I) failed to consider in my planning was that this was Memorial Day weekend!  Our relaxing (though wet and cold)  Thursday night stay at Crap Orchard Lake, proved to be our only easy camping experience for the entire trip.

Valek ALWAYS has the fire going before any of the bags are unpacked!

 Due to the holiday weekend (planning, planning, planning!), every campsite we encountered was full or closed! We were able to find some secondary places to stay including a campsite overflow area (translation... a patch of grass co-occupied by 100+ others and equipped with one port-o-potty) near a whitewater recreational area outside Chattanooga, TN on our second night and a patch of mosquito-infested grass at an RV park outside Lebanon, TN (mostly populated by long-time residents) on the last night of our return.
 
But, the reason we made this trip in the first place was to ride the incredibly beautiful motorcycle roads of East Tennessee and Western North Carolina - and that we did!!

Cherohala Skyway

 Cherohala Skyway Website

Tennessee is now one of my favorite states!  It is breathtakingly beautiful, full of history and incomparable natural beauty, and I truly cannot wait for an opportunity to return!  I hope you enjoy the ride!!  - LD

Motolust: The Neurophysiological Truth

Lust took a pretty good beating by the medieval Catholic church when it was called out as one of those seven pesky Contrary Virtues (a.k.a. The Seven Deadly Sins).  Although I understand the rationale for attempting to divide the world this way (i.e the Heavenly Virtues versus the Contrary Virtues), the simplicity of what we call good versus what we call bad remains, by my account,  somewhat arbitrary.

Take lust for example, more specifically, motolust.


motolust (noun) 1. A passionate craving for all things 2-wheeled and motorized.   2. The intense desire or appetite for a motorcycle (or motorcycles).  3. an ardent enthusiasm for motorcycles.

Now, that doesn't sound so bad, does it?  In fact, it sounds a bit like the motorcyclist's version of  whatever trips your trigger.   It comes in many shapes and colors - everything from cats, dogs, cars, houses, clothes, purses, golf clubs, fine food, to fast fast food to whatever!  Each to their own.

For me, it just happens to be motorcycles!

Motorcycles, in general, but more specifically, sleek, Italian motorcycles, in particular!  For me, these bikes ooze a design aesthetic that transcends the visual - they evoke something deep, visceral, and cerebral. 

The visual image triggers something in my brain that evokes undeniable urges.  Their stance, their sleek looks-fast-while-standing-still appearance makes me want to climb upon one of these beauties, straddle the saddle, fire the motor, and go fast.... very fast.

The sound alone emanating from a 90-degree apposed V-twin engine increases my heart rate, drys my mouth, and shortens my breath.  Moreover,  I won't rest easy until I can see the machine that has created such music.

Call it lust, call it sin, call it a sickness... I don't really care!  All I know is that these urges are uncontrollable, undeniable, and are fundamentally, an integral part of who I am.

Deep, out of sight and beyond my control there's a party going on in my brain!  A flood of neurotransmitters dumped indiscriminately into my cerebral cortex, bathing receptors longing to be saturated with their cognate triggering transmitters.   I am a man enslaved by neuropeptides.

So, if you happen to hear: "God, look at the cans on that Ducati!"  Don't judge... it's the peptides talking.... the simple neurophysiological truth!  -LD

My "Second to Last Dog"

I recently heard a fellow reflect on his age by saying he was on his "second to last dog".  Without explicitly stating his prediction of longevity, he was indicating that he had about 15-20 years left (depending upon the age of his present dog).  I'm hoping I'll have another dog before my days are up, but more so due to the fact that our present dog - Lupe - is, sadly, somewhat deficient in the companionship department! What ever happened to "man's best friend"?  I don't think Lupe got that memo, but, that's another story altogether.  In any case, I  never thought of gauging my remaining days in terms of the number of dogs that will share our home.

However, I have given much thought to the number of years that I will still have left to ride.

For a motorcyclist, the notion of no longer being able to ride is a very troubling thought.  Very troubling indeed!  Whether the result of age-related immobility, feeble joints and muscles, failing eye-sight, dementia, or the big sleep itself, every rider - whether willing to admit it or not - knows that the riding days are numbered.  When you get to be my age you begin doing the math... "I should at least have 15 more, possibly 20; God, I hope 20... what about 25?... I've got 20, can I get 25, 25, 25?

The calculations seamlessly morph to mileage...  "Lets see, I'm averaging about 13-14,000 miles per year, therefore I should easily make 250,000... given that I plan to ride more once I retire, maybe 350,000... is 500,000 even possible?" ... perhaps.

Then the mental conversation drifts to bikes... If 350-500,000,  how many more bikes will I need?  I plan to ride my RT for at least 100,000 miles before I would even think of trading it in (I hope she can't hear me talking this way... it's a bit like your girlfriend overhearing your plans to dump her!).  Moreover,  I should be able to get 150,000-200,000 out of this or a comparable model.  Given that,  I figure that I'm on my "next to second to last bike". 

Somehow, and for some inexplicable reason, that has a much more comforting sound to it than my "next to last dog".   I know it's inevitable, but can we please just slow it down a little bit??

PS:  Now THIS is a dog!.

-LD

My Favorite Trip

I've taken a handful of great moto trips in recent years, but, my favorite has to be a trip that my friend Valek and I took a little over  a year ago to the Black Hills of South Dakota. 

Photo Tour: Black Hills, SD

There were so many great things about this ride, not the least of which was the truly mystical sensation I got while riding through the Black Hills.  It is no wonder why this land is so revered by the Lakota.  Otherworldly is the best descriptor that comes to mind.  Riding the Needles Highway (SD Highway 87) you are riding at the feet of towering monolithic gods that rise as vertical spires all around you.

There is a palpable sense of belonging in the Black Hills.  The abundance of wildlife at every turn is a constant reminder that our "every day world" is so far removed from the "natural world", the real world.  You begin to feel as though you are trespassing on the sacred.

 

The Badlands were so totally unexpected.  We could have been on another planet!  What must the first observers 10s of thousands of years ago thought when they saw this for the first time?

 

This trip has stayed with me longer than any other.  It truly has become a part of me.  I will definitely return.  Hopefully very soon!  - LD

Photo Tour: Black Hills, SD

The Road

The road has a special allure when riding a motorcycle.  From my perspective, taking a trip across the country in a car sounds like torture; whereas, the same trip on a bike is an instant adventure!  There are innumerable elements to this and it starts with throwing your leg across the bike.  Straddling the machine in your driveway is instantly more appealing than climbing into the "cabin" of an automobile (or less affectionately referred to by motorcyclists as the "cage").  There is freedom on a bike!  The wind in your face, the openness of the ride and the complexity of sensory inputs and responses translates what, in a car is a nondescript drive into an experience.

Interstate 70 - Wyandot County, KS

The road can be beautiful, scenic, twisty, with long sweeping curves and breath-taking vistas or straight barren stretches of God-forsaken lunar-landscape.  But the hum of the motor, the vibration in your feet and hands, the automatic (almost mindless) inputs that constantly correct for caster while controlling your speed, angle of lean, counter-steering, turning, accelerating, slowing, engine braking, and stopping all sum to create a kinetic experience that is perhaps more like flying that driving!

Colorado Rockies

Getting from "point A" to "point B" should not be this much fun!  But that's the beauty of the ride.  It permits a near-sensory overload of stimulation that if smoked would, without a doubt, be illegal in most states - certainly Kansas!  I guess you could say "the ride is why we ride".  It's our drug of choice, our soma, our escape from the complexities of world, if not for just a moment in time.  Given all of the focus and attention required to ride safely and skillfully, there is little remaining room in the cerebral compartment for those troubling thoughts, the stresses of the day, and those chronic worries that keep us up at night.  During the ride, they vanish.  Even after dismounting, the lingering afterglow keeps you smiling for some time to come. 

US 36 Northeast CO near the KS border

 

 

Is there any wonder why that we ride or that we ride? Is there any wonder that is becomes a part of who we are?  Is there any doubt that at this very moment I am dreaming of the next trip, or at least the next ride no matter how seemingly insignificant.  - LD

The Bikes

I've only owned 6 motorcycles since I first started riding (some 37 years ago) but all of them were (are) all really great bikes.  In order: 1969 Triumph Trophy Trail; 1972 Yamaha XT500; 2001 Triumph Sprint ST; 2003 Yamaha FZ1; 2010 BMW R1200RT (still); and 2000 Moto Guzzi V11 Sport (still).  My only regrets are that I sold the '69 Triumph and the fact that I don't have pictures of all of the bikes.  But, they all conjure up their own sets of memories that will last forever.

As far as the bikes I presently own, both have their own unique and distinct character... That's pretty obvious just looking at them.

The BMW is a mechanical and technological wonder.  An excellent example of German engineering at its finest!  This bike eats the mileage with effortless comfort.  Riding for 700-750 miles per day is no problem for this touring machine.  I've owned her since she was new (about 20 months) and she now has 25,000 on the odometer.  I can easily see putting 100,000 miles on this bike.

Twin Lakes, CO

The Moto Guzzi however, is a totally different machine!  It is a wild beast of a bike.  Riding the Guzzi feels like you are strapped to the hood of a muscle car flying down the drag strip while hanging on by your finger tips.  The high compression pistons and custom exhaust system also makes it sound like a V8 dragster, but with the unmistakable note of a twin.  Engine braking on this bike (preceded with the obligatory rpm-matching blip) is music!!

Unlike riding the BMW, I am really ready for a break after about 100 miles on the Guzzi.  The bike has tons of low end torque and yet cruises nicely at highway speed or in traffic around town in 3rd gear of the 6-speed gear box.  But, as fun as it is to ride, it's as fun parked in front of the local coffee shop watching it attract admirers.  It's a gorgeous Italian design!  Both bikes get lots of comments, but the Guzzi definitely draws a crowd.  It's a modern day classic that oozes character, style, and raw power.