My plan was to take off from the Boston area on Wed morning and head down to PA to the Delaware Water Gap National Park for some sightseeing. From there, I was going to shoot down through Delaware and Maryland and then into VA to check out the Chesapeake Bay Bridge/Tunnel. After that, no definite plans other than to kill time and take in some sights until Friday, when I was to meet up with a buddy I used to work with back home. He now lives in Michigan and was bringing some friends down to the Blue Ridge Mountains for some twisties and awesome scenery.
I’d been keeping a watchful eye on the weather for days, as it seemed like I was going to be soaked for the entire trip. Sure enough, Wednesday dawned very cloudy, with a dense, heavy fog over everything. I geared up and hit the road at 7:30. Hadn’t even gotten 60 miles before the rain was coming down pretty well. It rained on me through MA, NY, CT and just into PA, but just began to break as I was pulling into the national park. It was about 11:30 amand I checked out some of the sights and snapped a couple of pics of some waterfalls and meandered my way along the roughly 40-mile length of country roads.
After a couple hours of this, I hit the roads again with nothing in between me and that bridge/tunnel that I’d heard a lot about. Apparently its 20 miles long and is a bridge for most of its length, but in the middle, it cuts underground to allow shipping traffic to come in and out of the Chesapeake Bay. Sounded pretty cool to me and I wanted to check it out.
Along the way in PA, I was passing some large cornfields on either side of me. The stalks were only about 3 or 4 inches tall, running in rows perpendicular to the road. As I was cruising past them, they gave the illusion of the ground swelling up in between them, like there was something under the ground that was keeping pace with me.
Made me think of Children of the Corn, when the beast was moving through the fields. (Hey, ya gotta pass the time somehow, when its just you and miles and miles ahead of you.)
Speaking of passing the time, I found myself behind a guy in an SUV that was hell-bent on doing 30 mph over the posted limit. This worked out just fine for me, as I opted to match his rate, but at a safe distance of about º mile. That’d make him the gopher (if there were any Leo’s doing speed detail, they’d go-pher him). About a half hour later, he crested a hill and I saw him hit his brakes, so I cut it hard to bring things down to an acceptable level. Sure enough, when I crested the hill, there were two cruisers in the median, and one was just pulling out to go after the SUV and pull it over. The driver didn’t look too happy as I innocently slid by and continued off into the distance. (Who says SUV drivers’ aren’t good for anything?)
Traffic pretty much sucked through Delaware and Maryland, didn’t really log anything of interest through these states. I was taking Rte 13 down through these states and once I hit the lower part of Maryland and into Virginia, it became a decent road with lots of open areas and traffic eased up a lot.
I arrived at the bridge/tunnel around dusk and weighed my options. It’d probably be better to get some pics during the daylight, but I still had hours left in me and didn’t feel like just hanging around burning daylight, so I headed out across it. I pulled over next to an Emergency Stopping Only sign and snapped a pic, and off I went. It was pretty sweet. Way out on it, you get to a point where you cant see land ahead or behind you and its just the elevated bridge holding you up off the water. Traffic was way light so I was able to just look around and take in the sights without having to worry about anyone making me a permanent fixture of the bridge.
Arriving on the other side, I rode over to Virginia Beach, but found it to be just like any other large beach-style area (been there, don e that), so I pulled over and checked the maps. Seeing that I was so close to North Carolina, I figured what the hell. Might as well just keep going and add another state to the list for this run. So I picked out a decent route, gassed up, and headed back out.
Not too far out, the air started to get that feel to it when you know a storm is coming. Started seeing some lightning in the distance and figured some fun was in store. It was getting late so I figured I might as well keep an eye out for a place to hit for the night. Came up to a toll booth and asked the lady if there were any hotels in the areas ahead and she informed me that the land wouldn't perc, so they weren't able to build on it and that there wasn't anything for miles and miles. The only hotels were back in the direction I'd come from. I hate backtracking; it seems like such a waste, so I said screw it. I thanked her, paid the toll, and pulled over to don the rain gear.
The lightning was getting closer and more intense, and I knew it was only a matter of time before I hit the storm itself. About 5 miles or so later, I felt the first pings of rain against my face and then before I knew it, the sky fell on me. I was one-handing the handlebars and using my left hand to try and block my face from at least some of the storm's fury. Man, nothing like riding one-handed in pitch blackness, no exits, no overpasses, nothing but flatlands, with a storm just doing everything it can to stop you
Now I'm telling you; the lightning show was one of the best I've ever seen. It was close enough, and vivid enough, that I was able to see all the strikes as they came down in front of me. Two- and three-pronged tongues of white brilliance were emblazoned upon my corneas as the earth was blasted again and again. It would have been a spectacular show to behold – from within a safe enclosure. As it was, I was riding right through the middle of this fantastic display of Nature. I have to admit that more than a few times I was really questioning my decision to keep going. There was enough electricity in the air that I’m sure if I didn’t shave my head, the hair would’ve been standing up on end.
A couple of the lightning strikes were close enough that I was sure I was going to feel clumps of dirt and asphalt raining down on me, but thankfully, it never happened.
After about an hour of this, it started to abate and I was able to relax a bit. I crossed over the Wright Memorial Bridge, which seemed like it would look great in the day time, but being around 10:30 at night, it was pretty hard to make anything out.
I arrived in Kitty Hawk on the Outer Banks of N.C. and proceeded to look for a place for the night. It took me 4 tries before I found a place with a vacancy, and even that was a stretch. The girl behind the counter said they rarely rented this room out, but one look at me and she must have felt badly. Apparently this room used to be part of the manager's office, but it'd been walled off and made into a room of sorts. She explained that the heat & A/C control was actually behind the check-in desk, but that all I'd have to do is call them and they'd be happy to adjust it. Now how much do you think I really cared at this point? I'd been on the road for 16 hours, had just been through a thunderstorm from hell, and all I wanted was a hot shower and a bed. She assured me that this 'room' had those, so I told her she had a sale. The room was actually pretty decent. Had it's own entrance, in back behind everything, so I was able to pull the bike right up to the door and out of sight. Hopped a nice long shower and then crashed for the night and slept like the dead.
Back out the next morning, continued down Rte 12 and swung by the visitor's center to get a copy of the ferry schedules and chatted with the old guy behind the counter for a bit. He talked of days gone past when he used to ride and he seemed to miss it a bit. When I asked if he had any intentions of riding again, he just kind of chuckled and shrugged, and we left it at that.
Continuing on down Rte 12, there are stretches where you could pitch a rock to either side of you and pretty much hit the ocean, the thread of land is really that thin. Just a patch of asphalt slicing down the middle of a big dune. I noticed that on either side of the road, what with the dunes being so close, that sand would naturally be swept onto the roadway. To combat this, trenches had been dug on either side of the asphalt, and the sand was either pushed or blown off the road, into these ditches. These ditches were then cleaned out periodically, to allow for room for more sand.
I arrived at the end of the first stretch of land, passed through Cape Hatteras and loaded up on a ferry which would take me to Ocracoke Island. Got to check out some dolphins showing off near the front of the boat and tried to snap a pic, but they were pretty hard to catch on film.
Once out on Ocracoke Island, I continued along Rte 12 through more dunes and finally into Ocracoke itself. Having some time to kill before the ferry left for the mainland, I checked out the visitor’s center and read about a British cemetery right nearby. Apparently, back in WWII, the US forces stationed along these shores were outmanned by the German U-boats which hovered just offshore.
These U-boats were sinking pretty much anything that came along, so we borrowed 48 British ships, complete with their crews, to combat them.
In the ensuing battles, 4 of the British ships were sunk. The remains of four members of one of the ships washed up and were recovered. They were buried on the island and the U.S. Coast Guard maintains the mini-cemetery to this day. I shot over quick and snapped a couple of pics.
After this was back to the ferry loading area and off we went. 2.5 hours across and me without any Dramamine. I passed the time by spreading out on the bike as comfortably as I could and dozed in and out. After unloading, I picked up Rte 264 and cruised through some amazing roads. The area itself was very depressed, with all kinds of abandoned houses, all overgrown and such, but the road was fantastic. I continued on this all the way up to through Winston-Salem and picked up 77 to shoot up to the western edge of VA.
This route takes you through some of the Blue Ridge Mountains and it was getting dark, was getting close to 9 pm or so. I started coming around a large bend and I could see this huge plume of black smoke rising up from the roadway, further around the turn. As I got closer, I could see a glow developing and then started seeing some emergency vehicles pulled over to the side. And there it was; a pickup truck was fully engulfed. The front left tire blew as I was coming up on it, briefly sending a burst of flames shooting outward. The passengers were all back at the emergency vehicles and everyone seemed safe and out of harm's way. Emergency crews were basically just watching this thing because it was gone man, it was gone. I slowed and managed to snap a pic as I slid by – was pretty happy with how much of it I caught, too. Was way cool how it lit up the black night with its intense white and orange light. Well, it was cool for me, not so cool for the folks from the truck.
Found a place to crash for the night, even had a Chinese restaurant next to it, so I was psyched. Figured I’d settle in, get cleaned up and mosey over to check out the local flavor. Got there only to find it was closed for the night, which probably answered any questions about whether there was any nightlife around.Just kicked around for most of the next day (Friday) waiting for the Michigan group to show up. Checked out an old cemetery at the top of the access road beside Rte 87. Some of the plots were actually above-ground, walled and sealed. Not sure what the actual name for them is. One had collapsed and others; all you could see inside was dirt. I imagine any actual coffins had probably been removed some time ago.
After this, I just rolled up and down a number of the byways in the area. Some amazing roads out there, roads that just run out from the main highways, shooting through cornfields and pastures before finally making their way back to the highways. My buddy Paul and his group showed up in the late evening and we settled in and partied for the night.
We all headed out around 8 am on Saturday morning and shot some of the best roads I’ve been on in years. We didn’t take the actual Blue Ridge Parkway, which takes you up and over everything; we hit roads that actually pound you back and forth, up and down, right on the mountains themselves. Some of these had 180-degree cutbacks, grades of 30+ degrees, unreal how amazing these were. I wish I’d gotten some pics of these roads, maybe next time.
At one point, we came across a town called Meadowview. A couple of locals who we happened upon, filled us in on the history of the town. It started out as a railroad stop and grew into a town and was incorporated like 100 years ago or something, but then the town had septic/perc’ing probs, and the railroad pulled out and moved about 50 miles further down the rails. Without the railroad, Meadowview wound up drying up and eventually it was unincorporated about 50 years ago. It basically died, everyone left and its now like a mini ghost town. Snapped some pics of buildings that looked like old western-style buildings and which made a great backdrop for the bikes.
Even snapped a shot of the actual jail cell which was used back when things were thriving.
As an interesting side-note, we found a diner down the road a bit from here, stopped in for a bite, then cruised back to continue on our way. As we got back to the same “center” of this dead town, there were 6 cruisers (both staties and the local sheriff), with probably close to 10 officers. They were doing a random traffic check (or so they said). They checked the licenses of anyone driving and then let us on our way. It seemed pretty obvious that they were looking for someone. Interesting how we'd just been there an hour or so earlier… (Didn’t take a pic of this, for obvious reasons…)
The rest of the day was spent just shooting the gaps in the mountain ridges and having an awesome time. The weather was fantastic, the visibility was great, what else can I say? That night was more partying and reliving the fun we’d had that day.
The Michigan group was going to do more riding on Sunday, but I had things to take care of back home, so I wound up doing a straight-shot home and made the 800 miles in just under 11 hours. Not too bad, but even better, was when I got home. I had a message that some buddies were meeting to go for a ride, so I didn’t even unpack. Just hopped back on the road, met up with them, got some more miles on and then hit a local tavern for eats and drinks. Great way to cap the day, and the vacation.
Ride Fast, Take Chances,
Dusty Dave
