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Lion_Lady wrote:Nope. Now we have an extra gas can.

P

They know if someone is showing up at a gas station for a gas can they have no choice but to buy it. I hate that they rip people off like that. I am glad you got back underway though.

<Originally posted on BMWBMW.org - Aug, 2008>
The LOOOOONNNG Way to the Beach

Short version: (Will add the few photos I have, once home - I'm at "The Flying Pig" coffeehouse, in Oak Island).

Family vacation at Oak Island, NC this week. Daughter wants to attend Otakon, the Anime Convention at the B'more Convention Center - last bash with her high school friends - coming up Friday, 8/8-8/10.

With gas prices as they are, it seemed prudent NOT to take two cars that get 22 mpg, when she's got gear, and I've got a motorcycle that gets 45 mpg. So, I volunteered to ride down... and try to catch a few distant scavenger hunt pics.

Routed the long way down... 569 miles by GPS calc. Hitting Geo Wash birthplace, Jamestown, Williamsburg, Yorktown and then The Great Dismal Swamp.

Departed at 3:30 am... just as I pass Liberty Rd on the Beltway, I get blasted by a heavy thunderstorm with driving rain. I manage to pull off at the Windsor Mill Rd overpass to put on the raingear. By the time I'm back underway, I'm standing in 2 inches of water in the gutter. GRRRR.
The really great part is that by the time I reach the Frederick Road exit, the roads are DRY, never a drop fell here.

I take 97 to 3 to 301... No traffic and I make the turn off 301 at VA Rt 3 at about 5:30am. wHAve an eggwich at the Sheetz and get underway again as the sun begins to rise.

The turn to the GW birthplace is a lovely narrow lane... Up ahead I spy what looks like turkey vultures, but turns out to be wild turkeys... a family! 2 adults and 3-4 chicken size younsters. Before I can get slowed down to get a photo, they scatter into the brush. Ah well.

Just enough light for a decent photo of the obelisk and sign.





Pack up and get underway.

GPS routing was set to make a fast but not highway heavy route. I take the turn off 3 at Flat Iron Rd.. FUN!! winding thru farmland. I follow country etiquette and wave at folks going the other way. A road closure detours me along waterways... Ospreys nesting, crab shacks. I'm not as good as others at choosing when to stop and take a pic. I guess I need to be more flexible. When the pic I want doesn't work out... I'm too quick to focus on moving on.

>>>Family is anxious to get back to beach house, so I'll continue later.

DETAILED version:
Sorry about the abbreviated first taste... I was sitting at "The Flying Pig" coffeehouse on Oak Island. Very good coffee, and Free Internet! But using Chaz's laptop is like working in fog. The setup is different enough (I hate the scroll pad thingy!) that it is too frustrating to do much finagling.

Anywhooo. My low fuel light came on as I approached Jamestown. My comfort zone extends to about 30 miles more AFTER that light comes on. Well, I was pushing 35 miles, then 40 miles, as I tried to find the proper "historic" shot. And of course, like Columbia, MD, all the commercial signage in the Historic Triangle is "tastefully understated" - read: INVISIBLE to folks who aren't from there. GRRRR.

Find a cool shot. (I manage to do the typical dumb/lost tourist maneuver: Slow waaay down, looking, then finally make a decision to turn. Oops! There was a car behind me. At least I don't take up much of a lane.) The entry sign for the settlement is a stick structure, partially wattled(?) with pinkish clay:



Now, GET GAS!!! The GPS (aka "Mrs Peal" after the character in The Avengers, she gives directions in British English) isn't much help, but I figure that heading on to Williamsburg should take me past SOME source of fuel. YAY!! There's a 7-eleven just a couple miles down the road. Some dork pulls his boat and trailer thru one (of the TWO) pump stations, gets out... goes inside. Grrr. I hate locals sometimes.

Gryndl needs just over 4.5 gallons. Not as low as I feared (capacity is 5.4 gal).

Now, Williamsburg. I make the choice to bypass the "Visitors' Center" in favor of getting a shot of some distinctive colonial building. I completely forgot that vehiclular traffic is restricted within the historic area. DUH!! If I'd gotten there before 8:30am I could have gotten a photo of the front Governors Mansion or The Kings Arms Tavern (a personal favorite of mine), but Nooooo, I'm stuck circling, and circling. Briefly consider a shot of William and Mary College. Nah.

Then I take another go 'round and spy the squatty shape of the Powder Magazine, complete with wooden stake fencing around the outside of the 7" high brick wall. This will have to do. From the corner of W/E Francis Street and S England Street:

I discovered a cool feature of Google Maps. You can get street views within areas. I searched "Governor's Palace" then you can click on 'street view' and outlines show up of streets that you can get a 360 degree view from. I found a view that includes the crosswalk where I too this pic from:



Click the photo and then find my way onto Colonial Parkway to get to Yorktown. Circle around once more... As I find Colonial Parkway, I spot the Windmill, AND about 4 people in colonial garb ... I wish I'd stopped. I wish I'd stopped. I wish I'd stopped. Would have been SO cool to have a pic of one of them holding my sign with the Windmill in the background.

Unfortunately, I've still got 5-7 hours of riding to do (at least), into the HEAT and humidity of an August day... On to Yorktown, and the Great Dismal Swamp.

The Colonial Parkway is much like the George Washington Parkway, up here. But, its three lanes wide, with no line marks. Traffic is expected to stay to the outer lanes, swinging around bicyclists only as needed. Pretty, thru trees and along the York River. I need this break from the general abuse of highway riding.

Pass some early rising motorcyclists. Pretty much all of them on cruisers wearing tank tops or t shirts, and half helmets. One VStrom rider in full gear. Must be a commuter.

At last, there's the sign for Yorktown. The pull off is a small lot overlooking the river. To one side I spy two tremendous cannons pointing at the mouth of the river. The sign doesn't say "Yorktown" but describes battle fortification and some generals' names. I take a pic of the cannons and my bike, anyhow. As I put my number away, I realize that across the road is the Victory Center. It's about 10 am. I'm starting to get a bit hungry, but have some water and decide I'll look for food later.



After Yorktown, my next/last goal is The Great Dismal Swamp. I continue along the Colonial Parkway and on to Hampton Roads/Newport News. Traffic is getting heavier. Truly amazing how many full size SUVs I see that are towing trailers or have hitch carriers loaded with more stuff than I can imagine needing for a month, let alone a week, at the beach.

The GPS is kind of vague on my destination (MapSource has its shortfalls), so I opt to read and follow signs as I get closer. I want the Headquarters/Main building or site. I've got no clue what I might find. I pass signs for the Jerico Ditch and Hudnell Ditch. Muse over what a "ditch" might refer to. Then I see a sign for GDS headquarters a couple miles ahead.



Note my scavenger hunt number taped on the back of my bike... I rode off with it still taped there. Didn't remember until I was in NC. <sigh>

Due to road closures (probably due to the fires, I didn't even NOTICE any smoke) I circled around a time or two before finally finding my way onto sr32. Then into North Carolina, and what I forget is a WASTELAND. Nothing but farm fields (tobacco! something we don't see often up this way anymore), farmhouses, barns and tired, sad gas station. The temperature is rising, my Camelback by now contains WARM water, and I'm getting hungry. I keep holding out that I'll encounter SOME little hamlet with a quick mart, or something.

Nope. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Finally, I see signs of civilization. But not even town names I recognize. At last, at a turning point, I spy a Food Lion in a strip center, with a couple fast food places out front. Windsor, NC.

It is after 1pm and I'm FAMISHED. There's a newly opened Bojangle's (fried chicken) restaurant. Hmmm. I could use some fried chicken and some SuhWEET tea about now.

No shade to park the bike in. No shade, period. Ick. But at least there's food. I slide off the seat and try to decide what to take inside and what can stay on the bike. Bring in the helmet, gloves. Everything else stays. Ah, its cool inside. But the line is long. Fine, I can set down my stuff and use the restroom.

Ah, Carolina Style Sweet Tea, with free refills. I opt for two thighs, and fries. Comes with a biscuit. I can't find any ketchup for the fries, but I'm too hungry to care. The chicken is GOOD. And so is the biscuit. While I'm finishing up, my father in law calls my cell phone (this is an extended family vacation) from the road. He doesn't know that I'm not in the car with everybody. . . It seems he got a late start, and has run into a bit of a back up somewhere in Virginia. He was just checking in. I tell him I've been keeping in touch with hubby via text message, he should call his phone.

I hang out in the cool for a bit longer have some more sweet tea. Then I can't delay the inevitable any longer. I gather my stuff and get back underway. The Camelbak is starting to make me crazy. My back hurts and I can't seem to get comfortable. I want to NOT be wearing it. However, it won't fit in either of the sidecases (yes, I over packed them), and I did not bring any straps. Stupid.

Now, I begin focusing on just getting there. Unfortunately, since I've headed so far east, I don't have easy access to the 70 mph highways. I take Rt13 on to Rt 11 S. Not bad. Not memorable, either. I make decent time. Thru Greenville, then Kinston, Hargetts Store, and Beulaville before connecting with Rt 40 at around 4pm, heading toward Wilmington. Rt 40 traffic is quick. I make good time, but it is getting late in the afternoon and beach traffic is building. Grrr. So is the heat.

My original route included taking the Ft Fisher Ferry, but had discounted it as probably slower. Then, after sitting in stop and go traffic for about 20 minutes on the "faster" route, I decide that the ferry would probably be smarter for me, given my growing fatigue.

The ride to the ferry terminus is not bad. Traffic is thick, but mostly moving. The Fort is big and old, from the Civil War. There is more there than I expected. But I'm too tired to care much. I make the turn for the ferry with about 10 minutes to spare. There's another bike already waiting, and I can bypass the waiting cars and go to the front of the line with them. Small favors.

I park and pull off my helmet, intending to get a soda before boarding the ferry. But I forget to take my wallet with me, and when I turn around I run into the other bikers. Get to talking... Now, there is NOT enough time for me to go and get a cold drink from the vending machines. Its 5:15pm. I've been on the bike for over 12 hours. As the ferry is ready to load, the doofus guy directing traffic (in a Coast Guard (?) uniform) gets distracted with saluting and chatting up fellow military folks, and fails to load the motorcycles first. We end up loading somewhere in the middle of the pack of cars. I'm not happy, but nothing I can do. I'm just grateful for a break that will actually get me closer to my destination.

I'm hot and sweaty. I desperatetly want to take off the Olympia suit, but realize that putting it back on will be worse after brief freedom. There is no way to carry it on the bike, except to wear it. Instead, I unzip it to my waist and let it hang.

The guy on the other bike is with his son. Dad has a flip face helmet, son's is 3/4, sneakers, t shirts. The bike is a nice looking Nighthawk 750. They make the usual comments about my "space suit." Not much I can say... Yes, its hot when I'm not moving. But the mesh is nice on the road. I'm sure my face is red from the heat (curse my fair complexion), so there is certainly no point in arguing. I leave Gryndl and go to the cabin to get a cold drink from the vending machines there. An Orange Crush. Its icy cold and sweet. It occurs to me I ought to get out my camera. But it just seems like too much effort.

The GPS draws some attention. An older gentleman wanders by eyeing the bike. He tells me its nice looking. According to Mrs Peal, the ferry takes about 10 minutes to get up to 10 miles per hour. My exhaustion starts to settle in and I briefly try to come up with a way to leave the bike at the ferry terminal and go to the cottage for a recharge. Not practical. I finish my soda and focus on relaxing. The trip takes just over 20 minutes. I actually feel a bit better for the break. Finally we offload. I wave good bye to the father and son, and get back underway.

Just a few miles more. I head out thru Southport and around the bend. Traffic is thicker here. My gas light came on sometime before the Ferry, but I'm close enough now, that I don't even worry about it. Gas can be had tomorrow.

Nearing the turn for Oak Island, I pass a school of squids on scooters - 5 of them on yellow scooters, 20 somethings, t shirts, shorts, flip flops, half helmets. One guy has his legs stuck out with the flip flops dangling off his toes. He waves jauntily at me as they go by.

I can smell the beach. Finally across the Intracoastal Waterway and onto Oak Island. Most things look the same as two years ago. Turn at the Eagle's Beach outlet. Hmm, which house? As I try to identify it, I pass where our Saturn is parked under one of the houses. Got to go around again. Wow, right across the street from the beach. No house between us and the sand. Fifth house from the corner - the one with a palm tree in front.

The GPS says it is 6:29pm. Thats almost 15 hours on the road. Criminy. 580 miles. All I can think about is getting out of the suit and off my feet.
My hands hurt. My hips ache. My back hurts. My ears hurt from the helmet.

"Down in West Virginia"

My "big crash" on my BMW f650CS - July 6, 2004
This is a caution to new riders. The crash happened in my second year of riding. I'd gotten beyond the initial "still learning" caution and began to believe that I was actually "getting the hang" of riding a motorcycle. This is perhaps the most dangerous period of learning... you THINK you've got it figured out, and you can get surprised by a situation and not be able to ride through (or around) it.


My husband and I had ridden (he on a Suzuki SV650) from Baltimore, MD to Canaan Valley, WV for the 18th annual WOW Ride In. We were staying at Blackwater Falls, near Canaan Valley, the crash happened on Tuesday, at 5pm.

At the close of a magnificent day of riding in beautiful West Virginia, I dumped it on an unexpectedly tight right turn. The locals call the curve "Wild Maggie" and it is apparently a common place for crashes. But usually folks crash going DOWN the hill. I was leading and feeling confident. Just having too much fun.

It was a long, straight, easy, grade, and I got focused on pushing my bike up the hill, forgetting to think beyond what I could see. I never saw the posted "20 mph" sign for the curve. I must have looked at my speedometer as I whizzed past it. Next I looked up to see one of those helpful yellow arrows pointing the way.



I eased off the throttle a little, turned my head, and began to lean into the curve. My stomach clenched as I suddenly realized that this turn was far sharper than I'd anticipated and I was going far faster than my nerves were comfortable with. I was going to run into the other lane.



As a relatively unseasoned rider, I began doing what I'd learned in the BRC: "Straighten and Brake." It might have worked. But, coming at me around the next curve, was an 18 wheeler. And he was over the centerline by two feet. The shiny metal grill looked as big as a garage door. (Imagine the little red pick-up is a big rig):



My husband got to watch it all unfold.

For an instant, I considered leaning harder, but discounted that. The consequences of failing would surely put me under the truck's wheels. I had enough room to cross in front of the truck to the opposite shoulder. But the gravel covered shoulder was well, gravel covered, and ended with a deep ditch, against the side of a steep, brush covered hillside. I chose that.

I bailed and headed for the gravel and weeds on the outside of the turn. I was uncertain I could stop between getting across the truck's path and the side of the hill. I'm ashamed to admit in my moment of panic, I probably "laid it down" intentionally. I lowsided. The faint dark dashes across the lane are from my bike:

I slid across the lane, up the hill. With my bike on my right leg. My husband heard the WHAM of my helmet hitting the pavement from 30 yards behind me. I remember the WHOOOSH of the truck's wheels passing me as I slid.

After I came to a stop, I lay still a few seconds, waiting for the 'starriness' to disapate from my head whomp. It seemed that all my parts were still attached. There was pain in my right knee, but it didn't feel severe. I heard the sound of the truck braking, stopping.

I sat up slowly and pulled off my helmet. My husband had stopped on the opposite shoulder and was already on his cell phone, once I responded that I was okay. The trucker was running toward me. He turned pale when he saw me pull off my helmet. Perhaps in relief.

I will NEVER ever regret spending the big bucks on BMW gear. If I had been wearing jeans, or even "cheap" leather, I'm convinced that my kneecap would have been disintegrated from sliding 50 feet beneath the bike, and I'd be sticking to hospital sheets in Elkins or another trauma center now. Not sure my Joe Rocket gear would have done half as well.

The CE armor in my BMW Airflow 2 jacket and 'zip off' Summer pants, saved my bones from serious damage. There is a hole the size of a plum in the right pant knee,
and a melted stripe on the left ankle.
My right jacket shoulder is scuffed with road grime and there is a tiny hole on the right elbow of the jacket - the only place I have actual 'road rash.'

Physically, my right knee looks like an over stuffed bag of rocks right now, but there is nothing broken, and it feels like someone stomped on my right calf. The bike slid most of the distance on my leg. I have a hyperextension hairline fracture in my left wrist, and my right forearm is bruised pretty severely. My bike will be ready for the road before I am, I'm pretty sure. I'm just grateful I can walk without much trouble.

In retrospect. What I did wrong:
(Or, just how far up the ladder of risk DID I go before falling off?)
1. Long day of riding = fatigue, loss of judgement
2. Overconfidence/lack of appropriate caution
3. Too fast for a blind curve = unable (unwilling?) to compensate. (I "quit riding the motorcycle")

The latest... Dayton, Ohio return ride. 555 miles in 14(!) hours. Had spent the weekend with hubby, hanging out with another gathering of "imaginary" friends - from another motorcycle forum (beginnerbikers.org) .

Rode home on myown, as hubby was headed a different direction - for work. I planned to take a combination of OH highway and twisty roads. I found this lovely little "private" park.


...And ended up adding in a GRAVEL twisty road. "Mrs Peal" my GPS, tried to send me up a couple of gravel roads when I chose "shortest route" but I refused. This road suckered me. It was paved at first, then it got narrow, THEN it changed over to gravel. <sigh> the road was only 3 miles long. I figured I could buck up and deal with a little gravel. Stay loose, no sudden changes, keep breathing.

The gravel went from lovely almost smooth pea grit, to a section of marble size stuff, then it got really interesting. The road began to climb. Then it switched back on itself. Twice. On a steep grade. Oh. And the gravel got deeper there, too. I slipped the clutch like crazy and kept the revs up. Kept repeating to myself, I can do this, I can do this. No problems.

Then. I was at pavement! I had to stop and get this picture:
I really wanted to get a picture of the switchback part (just around the bend in the distance), but it was 4 pm and I still had 300+ miles to go to get home. I crossed the Ohio River on the Sistersville Ferry, into West Virginia. More lovely winding roads to pick up I-79. No worries for the next section of the ride. I picked up I-68 Eastbound where it connects with I-79.

Just west of Frostburg, MD, I spotted a BIG cloud of black smoke ahead (right after passing a cut through on the median). Traffic slowed to a crawl, then stopped. Judging by the quantity of smoke, I figured this would take some time. I shut down the engine and took off my helmet. I caught the fire truck passing on the shoulder as I snapped this shot:

From the blackness of the smoke it looked like a truck's brakes had overheated and caught the tires on fire. I was close enough to the "problem" to be able to walk up to where the action was. Couldn't see much. Too many official vehicles, but the the whole highway east bound was blocked. The delay lasted about an hour. I chatted with some of the other folks hanging out near their cars. A couple had their "goldendoodle" on a leash. Pretty dog, very friendly, but well behaved. A guy in his car with the windows down and the ac cranked up said, "Aren't you hot in that?" <sigh>

Once the road was clear, I had to SCRAMBLE - cars just start up and roll. I had my helmet and gloves off and a hat on my head. I pulled on my helmet without buckling it and sat on my gloves. Didn't even have a chance to zip my jacket. I moved over to the slow lane and did 35, praying that the exit would be soon. It wasn't for 2 miles.

The wreckage was scary. A big mound of charred stuff with the frame of a seat sticking up at about the middle. If I'd been in a car, I probably could have snapped a pic. Not piloting the bike. It was late. I was STARVED. I got off at the next exit and ordered a BigMac. I needed to eat something. Some lady wanted to tell me her life's story as I stood near my bike munching. Her opening question was... "Are you riding that all by yourself?" I did the look around, "Do you see anyone else here?"

The long break had refreshed me, but I sill had 2+ hours to ride. I made good time, in spite of the tendency of traffic to get heavier and heavier on Sunday evenings toward the DC/Balt area. I rolled in to the garage at about 12:30 am. A really really long day's ride. I was in bed and asleep by 1.

P

Lion_Lady wrote:"Down in West Virginia"

This is a caution to new riders. The crash happened in my second year of riding. I'd gotten beyond the initial "still learning" caution and began to believe that I was actually "getting the hang" of riding a motorcycle. This is perhaps the most dangerous period of learning... you THINK you've got it figured out, and you can get surprised by a situation and not be able to ride through (or around) it."quit riding the motorcycle")

so LL, I read this last may when i was taking my BRC and paid attention to it (as well as everything else I read on here and the answers to my personal questions as well) and now, about a month INTO my 2nd year, i had my accident - proving your point.

while it was not NEARLY as dramatic as yours, my injuries are much more extensive - broke my left tib, fib, and shattered my ankle, and broke my right thumb. Luckily, all are temporary, and i SHOULD get full use of everything back - and I am thankful for that.

I wrote about it in my blog if you want to check it out...viewtopic.php?f=32&t=38842

i also want to thank you for the whole 'hard-line' full face helmet speech. when I went down last month, if I weren't wearing my ff helmet, i certainly would have broken my jaw, possibly my nose, and lost ALL the skin on the left side of my face. FULL FACE FOLKS... EVEN at low speeds! (my accident was at 10-15 mph).

- zeligman

Wow. Can't believe that my blog is still on the "front page" of the blogs!

Its been a while. My Rockster now has 81,000 miles on it. I've ridden to Indianapolis Motor Speedway for MotoGP, to North Carolina every April for the Cape Fear 1000 Rally, and to Centerville, OH (outside Dayton), each August for a gathering of friends.

I'm in my 7th year of being a Rider Coach. I still love my bike! Hubby and I are now "empty nesters" and are likely to relocate to Lynchburg, VA in the near future. Easy access to the Blue Ridge Parkway and other amazing roads.

Amazingly, I never noticed this blog before, so I checked out the first page. So your bike immediately before the Rockster was an F650CS. I had the same bike too, just before the Ed80. I still miss that bike; I preferred the CS' more upright riding position to the Rockster, it was really light and nimble, and most of all, I miss the fuel economy . But it's hard to beat the Rock's superior brakes, Telelever front, better comfort over long distances, and overall more secure feel at speed. Safe travels, Lion Lady. Try to post on this blog more often

Well. Just got back from our 7th trip to Dayton, Ohio for the 12th (small) gathering of riders that's called "Bug Bash."
Hubby and I headed out on Friday morning, hitting twisty roads and a stretch of the BRP before hopping on the Interstate, heading northwest. Games (Cards Against Humanity), Cigars and good whisky (Defiant) are part of the Off Bike festivites



We took the long way home, stopping to photograph a couple Whispering Giants: one in Akron.


and another just across the OH/PA border:

Overall, just over 1200 miles total for the trip. Still loving my Rockster.
P

What's the BRP?

blues2cruise wrote:What's the BRP?

Blue Ridge Parkway. In Virginia. Runs for miles and miles along the top of a mountain ridge. Very scenic, great views, but slow and curvy.