CHALLENGES ON THE RIDE HOME
So here we are. The last episode about what has truly been a wonderful motorcycle road trip. Today I point my BMW sport touring bike in a northerly direction; the general direction of home. It’s an eight hundred mile interstate burn, but you know that’s not my style. For the most part I’ll be riding great motorcycle roads.
I’m feeling a little bit melancholy knowing that I’m starting the final leg of this adventure, but excited about the miles that lie ahead of me. I enjoy my last breakfast with my new friends from the MSTA STAR Rally…handshakes and hugs all around. Then I’m off.
US Route 421 • “The Snake”
A quick 65 mile interstate blast out of Knoxville brings me to Bull’s Gap, Tennessee. Heading east I pick up Route 321 which is quite a wonderful motorcycling road itself. Route 321 takes you past Watauga Lake before it starts winding alongside The Watauga River. If you like riding great motorcycle roads this is one to add to your list. It’s a great “warmup” before you arrive at the intersection of US Route 421: “The Snake”.
US Route 421 stretches across multiple states, with the most renowned section in the northeast corner of Tennessee. Its serpentine-like curves and twists, running through the Cherokee National Forest, has become a favorite among motorcyclists and sports car drivers seeking thrilling rides and breathtaking scenery.
“The Snake” is an asphalt ribbon that slithers through the picturesque Appalachian Mountains like the reptile whose name it bears. Its challenging curves and elevation changes have contributed to its reputation as a top destination for those seeking an adrenaline-pumping ride. When you see a sign on “The Snake”, such as the one pictured above, take it seriously.
The route takes travelers through some of the most picturesque landscapes in the Appalachian Mountains, offering stunning views of the surrounding valleys and mountain ranges. Backbone Rock Tunnel, pictured above, is often referred to as “The Shortest Tunnel In The World”. No doubt it is one of the most-photographed. Of course I had to make a photo stop.
One of my favorite features of the road has to be its elevation changes. Riding stretches like the one pictured above generates a real roller coaster feeling in the saddle. The map image below will give you an idea of what the last 100 miles discussed looked like. If you’re into riding great motorcycle roads, put these on your bucket list. I loved them. I’ll be back.
“The Back of the Dragon”
US Route 421 runs out in Bristol, Virginia. From there I made a quick 44 mile interstate blast up to Marion, Virginia. Not because I wanted to ride “the slab”, but because I had to make some time. I was heading up to meet my new friend, Bryan, on “The Back of the Dragon”. You may recall the account of our serendipitous encounter at The BMW MOA National Rally from a previous blog post.
Route 16, also known as “The Back of the Dragon” in Virginia, is a truly epic and unforgettable experience. This iconic road is aptly named for the dragon-like curves and twists that await you. It’s an absolute paradise for motorcyclists who love carving up twisty roads.
The scenic beauty of the surrounding landscape is a constant companion throughout the journey, making the ride even more enjoyable and memorable. And distracting. Keep your eyes on the road! There are lots of scenic overlooks to safely take in the views. One of those views is pictured above. Despite the ominous appearance of those clouds, not a single drop of rain hit the ground.
The southern section of “The Back of the Dragon” runs through Hungry Mother State Park. A bird’s eye view of this beautiful Appalachian parkland, captured from my drone, is pictured above.
Route 16 had been an essential transportation corridor in southwest Virginia for many years. It served as a vital link between the coalfields of Virginia and the rail lines. In later years the road’s scenic beauty and challenging curves quickly gained popularity among motorcycle riders and sports car enthusiasts.
Do As I Say…PLEASE!!!
My new friend, Bryan, is a semi-retired professional photographer who takes photographs of motorcyclists and sports car drivers who are ‘slaying the dragon’. His roadside perch is located at the apex of a tight switchback curve which immediately transitions into a challenging S-Curve.
Bryan at his photo position on “The Back of the Dragon”
By prior arrangement I knew where to look for Bryan along the route. In the process of hunting him down I apparently took my eyes off the road for a split second too long in that switchback. Below is a photo of your reporter dangerously over the double yellow line while I scanned the roadside for my friend. Don’t do this!!! I was extremely fortunate that no one was coming in the opposite direction.
I’ll gladly take the heat by publishing this embarrassing blunder. If it prevents a single accident in the future…here or anywhere else…it will be worth all the shame. Please…when you’re riding great motorcycle roads stop looking for, and waving at, the cameras on these biker tourist trap routes. Ride safely and search out your souvenir photo online afterwards.
A map view of what you’ll encounter over the 32 mile length of “The Back of the Dragon”
After chatting for a short time with my friend it was time to hit the road again. I took some secondary roads out of Virginia and up through the George Washington & Jefferson National forest in West Virginia. Ninety five miles later I hit the intersection of I-64 and “slabbed it” the remaining 115 miles into Waynesboro, Virginia. Just under 500 miles for the day with a bunch of it on highly technical “hero roads”. Quite a day in the saddle, indeed. I’m shot.
Sashimi In The Appalachians
Why Waynesboro you might ask? It goes against everything I look for on the road. It’s a big, thriving city of 23,000 people in The Commonwealth of Virginia. It has every major fast food establishment you could possibly name. Cracker Barrel, Panera Bread, Golden Corral, Applebee’s, Starbuck’s, Chipotle, Outback, McDonald’s, Taco Bell, Chick-fil-A, and on and on…They’re all there. It is located at the intersection of two major interstates; I-64 and I-81. Not my preferred type of rural environment by any stretch of the imagination.
But it also has Silk Road, one of the finest Asian fusion restaurants I’ve ever eaten at. Hard to believe, I know. I discovered this place years ago during a long distance adventure while riding great motorcycle roads. I figured “What the heck?” I was riding thousands of miles on a motorcycle, over all types of roads, in all kinds of weather, in all kinds of traffic. How much of a risk could eating raw fish in the Appalachians be?
Turns out it was some of the best sashimi I’ve ever sampled and I’ve returned to this spot many times since that first accidental discovery. Bonus…Silk Road shares the same parking lot as The Days Inn. My kind of motel: simple, inexpensive, and the ability to park your motorcycle right outside the door to your room. If you happen to consume too much saki, you’re walking back to your room…not riding. Perfect.
Plus Days Inn is part of The Wyndham Family of hotels & motels. In line with the advice in a previous guest post about Spending Frugally – or Lavishly – On The Road; I have become a Wyndham Rewards member. The author of that post was right. Those rewards points add up fast when you concentrate on just a few hotel chains. The Wyndham family includes Days Inn, La Quinta, Ramada, Super 8, Travelodge and, of course, Wyndham. Hotel prices being what they are these days, it’s great checking in for a free night’s stay from time to time. If you travel a lot take advantage of these rewards programs.
Karma And The Biker Next Door
After this grueling day riding great motorcycle roads I went to sleep early. But an unbroken stretch of slumber was not to be had. Along around midnight a new motel guest arrived at the room next door. He arrived on a big American V-Twin touring bike with insanely loud pipes. Loud pipes don’t save lives. Loud pipes make noise; and lots of it. This new arrival actually backed into his parking spot with those pipes facing the motel windows. He then went through a ritual of revving the throttle on the bike at least a dozen times before shutting it down. WTF?
A whole lot of noise used to come from these “Loud Pipes” bikes of mine.
I wrote it off right away to karma. After all, I rode nothing but American Big Twins with loud pipes for a period of almost 25 years. I used to be that guy; revving my motor needlessly as I left my quiet neighborhood at 4:00AM. Twitching the throttle repeatedly at every stop light for no other reason but to call attention to yourself in a feeble & juvenile attempt at projecting an image of being the outlaw that you’re not. It was midnight and it was payback time. Karma had arrived thundering at my doorstep. I was awake and didn’t want to be.
Might as well have some fun with this, I thought, as I stepped outside my room and engaged the new arrival on a biker-to-biker level…
Me: “Having trouble with your bike, I see. So sorry, man. Anything I can do to help?”
Him: “No trouble. Bike is fine.”
Me: “Oh. (Long pause) I heard you revving the engine over and over again. I thought you were having trouble keeping it running.”
Him: (Speechless)
In the realm of psychology, projecting an image can be seen as a natural inclination of the human ego—an attempt to showcase a version of oneself that aligns with personal aspirations. It’s akin to wearing a mask; a carefully crafted persona that communicates a specific message to the world. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of it all. In days gone by, I had reveled in the thrill of rattling windows and startling unsuspecting motorists. But now, I found myself on the other end, the grizzled veteran of the road yearning for a peaceful sleep, only to be roused by the very spectacle I once embodied.
A Brand New Day
Another motel with a surprisingly righteous cup of coffee from the in-room brewing machine. I sipped the steaming beverage slowly as I glanced at weather radar images. A strong line of storms was moving west to east at about 15MPH. They were moving in a line approximately 40 miles north of me near Harrisonburg, Virginia.
A quick Google search revealed that there was an IHOP Restaurant in Harrisonburg. Perfect. I had a plan. I would ride north and arrive at the IHOP around the same time the storms would. I’d enjoy a slow, leisurely breakfast while the storms rolled through, then continue north through Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania.
Everything was going off just as planned. I rolled into the IHOP parking lot as the skies were starting to take on a serious dark and angry look. I went inside, ordered up my breakfast and waited for Mother Nature to do her thing.
A Change Of Plans
My breakfast arrived but the storm had not yet shown its face. The sky was nearly pitch black, but not a drop of rain was falling. “Should start any moment now”, I said, as I dove into the substantial stack of carbohydrates and fat in front of me.
I finished my pancakes and looked at the weather radar app on my iPhone…probably for the 50th time now. The storm was not moving. It had apparently come to a complete stop just outside the pancake house and was taunting me to get back on the bike and outrun it. I rebooted the phone thinking that might help in getting the storm to start moving across the screen again. Nope. That didn’t work, either.
Might as well put on my Nelson Rigg rain gear at a convenient spot…IHOP’s lobby. A few minutes later I threw my leg over the saddle and pushed back out of my parking spot. Almost on cue, as I kicked the bike down into first gear, the first drops of rain started to fall.
Cheer Up. Things Could Be Worse
Truth-be-told the storms looked worse on the weather app than they did out on the highway. It seemed as if they were starting to dissipate. I rode through the other side of the storm front about 35 miles later. I stopped at the Maryland welcome center and peeled off my rain gear. The sun was out again. Game on.
So I cheered up and sure enough; things got worse. Traffic came to a complete standstill. I peered out over my windscreen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cause for this inexplicable delay. To my dismay, I discovered that there was no accident, no construction work, nor any logical explanation for the gridlock. It was as if the universe had conspired to place an invisible barrier on the road, mocking my attempts at progress.
I watched in disbelief as drivers around me grew increasingly impatient. Horns blared like a chorus of dissonant trumpets, and colorful language filled the air like a foul cloud. Arms flailed, gestures of frustration were exchanged, and yet, we remained trapped in this absurd theater of human impotence. Eventually, the traffic began to inch forward, as if by some divine intervention. It was a slow and agonizing process. As soon as I dared to believe in my imminent liberation, the traffic would grind to a halt once again, like a cruel joke being played by a fickle deity.
In these moments of utter frustration, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had become a slave to the very machine that was meant to liberate me. The irony was not lost on me. I had traded the open road for an asphalt prison, where my freedom was at the mercy of a mindless tangle of metal and rubber. This was certainly not my idea of riding great motorcycle roads.
I’d like to send out a very special “Thank You” to the State Trooper who was hopelessly mired in this very same traffic jam. You could very easily have cited me for riding on the shoulder of the road for those five miles or so before I came upon you. You didn’t, and for that I am most grateful. Well played, Sir. Well played!
New York, New York
Only one more hurdle left to clear on this ride home…Metropolitan New York. Traversing the George Washington Bridge and The Cross Bronx Expressway is always a crap shoot. The odds of having a favorable experience here are worse than those in Las Vegas.
A typical day approaching and crossing The George Washington Bridge
This notorious stretch of roadway is 12 horrendous, ill-maintained, decaying, decrepit, pothole-ridden miles in length. I have made this crossing in the past in as little as 10 minutes. There have also been days where I’ve spent well over two agonizing hours making my way. Today the traffic Gods smiled down upon me from above. I made the crossing without dropping below fifth gear and pointed the bike towards the final stretch of pavement home.
The traffic Gods were kind today
Home Sweet Home
So ends this series of features chronicling this wonderful trip riding great motorcycle roads. Twelve days, eight states and 2,800 miles later I wheeled safely back into the driveway of my home.
As always, a profound sense of gratitude comes over me, not only for the safe and trouble-free miles, but for the privilege of being able to live this lifestyle and share it with others. I hope all of you cherish every single mile that you are blessed to ride and truly hope that my articles inspire you to get out and enjoy riding great motorcycle roads of your own.
I’m already thinking about my next trip.
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WOW, just WOW!