Tag Archives: Touring

Sri Lanka, Vietnam & Sabah | Motorcycle Travel

Motorcycle Touring with The Bear

By Peter Thoeming ‘The Bear’


Yes, it’s beginning to feel as if this virus thing is going to last forever – but it’s not. One day we’ll be free to travel the world again. It’s probably not a bad idea to do some planning for now, and let’s face it, it’s fun too.

Roadside stall in Sri Lanka and Rohan with our Royal Enfield 350s. They were just right.
Roadside stall in Sri Lanka and Rohan with our Royal Enfield 350s. They were just right.

Some reports are saying that when the Novel Coronavirus barriers come down, air fares will go up – through the roof, so to speak. In the light of that, how about considering some relatively local overseas destinations? I’ve covered a little of New Zealand; let’s take a look at Sri Lanka, Vietnam and Sabah. They are all three wonderful motorcycle venues, and what’s even better is that they all have different things to offer.

Still relatively unexplored by Australian motorcyclists, Sri Lanka has a lot going for it. Not only is the colonial architecture outstanding, but the surfing is great and the food is spectacular. The roads through Sri Lanka’s central highlands are sometimes excellent and sometimes… not so much, but the corners and the views of wilderness, tea plantations and chances to see wild animals are brilliant.

If you’re riding two up it’s better to give the little Hondas a miss and go for a ‘real bike’!
If you’re riding two up it’s better to give the little Hondas a miss and go for a ‘real bike’!

I recently rode through Sri Lanka on a Royal Enfield 350 with my friend Michael Rohan Sourjah of Serendib Motorcycling Adventures and recommend him highly.

Vietnam has – or had, before the virus – become a very popular motorcycle destination for Australians. There are several tour operators, all with much the same offer and pricing, and I suspect they are all equally good. The bikes are small, often Honda semi-automatic scooters which are just right for Vietnam’s limited roads and heavy traffic. Just remember to blow your horn a lot and you’ll have a great time.

The roads in Sabah are excellent, but that doesn’t mean you always have to stay on them.
The roads in Sabah are excellent, but that doesn’t mean you always have to stay on them.

Sabah, one of the Malaysian states in the island of Borneo, has a similar environment to Vietnam but could hardly be more different otherwise. It’s a wealthy place with large oil reserves, and as a result has brilliant roads. The various crossings of the Crocker Range, the backbone of the state, provide wonderful views and friendly locals who will be happy to pose for your camera.

After two trips on well-used but also well-maintained Aprilias with many-times UK champion motocrosser Bryan Wade of Borneo Biking Adventures (https://borneobikingadventures.com/) I can tell you that Sabah is a place that will amaze and impress you with the variety of the  riding, the food and the various other attractions. They even have the world’s largest and smelliest flower.

See what I mean about the roads?
See what I mean about the roads?

Any of these places is worth exploring and you may even find me there; it’s where I’ll be going when the world is free again.

Source: MCNews.com.au

Beartooth Forever: a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Looking at the next stretch of road from an overlook on the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway.

Every now and then, you have a day that stands head and shoulders above others. A day when everything goes right, things look and smell better than usual, and all is right with the world. Today is one of those days.

We’re in the Sheridan Lake Campground in the Black Hills National Forest. I make my coffee on my single cup burner and look at maps while my 13-year-old daughter Shayla sleeps in. The next few days of our two-week summer trip to Yellowstone promise to be the most memorable.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Shayla at the roomy Sheridan Lake Campground site, in the Black Hills of South Dakota.

The trip has been great so far. The shoulder that I had injured a few weeks earlier has hardly bothered me. My new-to-me 2010 Gold Wing is keeping us comfortable and running as smoothly and as well as expected. My quest to maintain close ties with my now-teenage daughter seems to be working, since we are getting along very well, enjoying each other’s company and creating new shared memories.

We take U.S Route 16A south through Custer State Park, enjoying the curves in the early morning. I wish we could spend more time in this area because the roads are so great, and are currently almost free of traffic. The refreshing, crisp morning air, the curves — including a few of the hairpin variety — make this the best road of the trip so far. We then take Route 16 west toward Wyoming. Route 16 becomes Interstate 90 for about 100 miles, but then turns back into two-lane Route 16 as we ride through the Bighorn National Forest. There we experience more great curves and beautiful vistas. It’s a hot day so we stop often for drinks and ice cream.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Photographing the view from an overlook on the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway. Not shown, obese chipmunk planning for his next snack.

At the small town of Ten Sleep, Wyoming, we turn north onto Lower Norwood Road, which turns into Wyoming Highway 31. Both are small roads that roughly follow the land, making them a delight through the wide open spaces. Greybull Highway 14 into Cody is straight as an arrow with little traffic. Riding into the sun might normally be annoying but today it is somehow magical. I’m not sure if it is the wide open spaces, the almost total lack of traffic or if I’ve achieved a state of zen, but in my mind’s eye I can see us from above, riding into the sunset along this lonely stretch of road.

In Cody, we get a room at the cozy A Western Rose Motel on Sheridan Avenue, which is the main downtown street. It’s a lovely evening so we walk down to the Irma Hotel for dinner. Buffalo Bill Cody, who founded the town with his name, built the Irma in 1902 and named it after his daughter. Buffalo Bill, born in 1846, was an American soldier, bison hunter and a showman, best known for his traveling Wild West shows. The hotel menu has an appetizer called Rocky Mountain Oysters — Buffalo Bill’s Original Sack Lunch. I suggest to Shayla that we try them, but she’s disgusted at the thought and refuses. We have an enjoyable meal anyway, to cap off a perfect day.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
The Irma Hotel in downtown Cody, Wyoming.

From Cody we ride along the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway toward Beartooth Highway and enjoy the many curves and scenic views. The Gold Wing may be a big beast, but it’s still a joy on the curves. At an overlook, we meet the fattest little chipmunk we’ve ever seen, one who has obviously mastered the art of obtaining free food from tourists. Shayla succumbs to his charms and feeds him a cracker, ensuring that his battle with obesity will continue.

The last time I was on Beartooth Highway I was a much younger, more fit version of myself. The amazement and the feeling of riding on top of the world is the same this time. The weather is beautiful, the views are stunning, and the road that has been called “The Most Beautiful Drive in America” doesn’t disappoint. Shayla and I continually marvel and comment on the beauty through our headsets.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Beautiful curves are easy to find on the Beartooth.

As planned, we ride from south to north, have lunch in Red Lodge, Montana, and then turn around and ride the road again. We reach heights of 10,900 feet, so at an overlook stop, Shayla makes a snow angel and we have a brief snowball fight. The views on the way back are equally stunning.

At the south end of the Beartooth, we enter Yellowstone National Park. The park is initially disappointing after the views we had experienced on the Beartooth. Then we enter the Lamar Valley and start to see bison in the fields. First bison near the road, and then on the road. We watch a giant male wander along the centerline of the road, causing all traffic to stop. Fascinating to watch — from afar.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Bison causing traffic jams in Lamar Valley in Yellowstone National Park.

We camp at a small campground owned by the Diamond P Ranch on U.S Route 20 outside of West Yellowstone. In the morning we do some horseback riding, then head into Yellowstone again. Yellowstone is all about geysers, so we investigate many of those, including Old Faithful. The crowds are worth it, since those geysers are impressive. We witness the eruption of the Beehive Geyser, whose eruptions are unpredictable, but it is one of the most powerful ones in the park. The eruptions average about five minutes and shoot water an incredible 200 feet into the air. We also enjoy the colorful sulfur pools that look way nicer than they smell.

In the evening, after cowering in our tent during a flash thunderstorm, we go to a rodeo a couple of miles up the road from our campsite. It is literally our “first rodeo,” and we take it all in and have a great time. We get back to our tent shortly before the rain starts again, and it continues for much of the night.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Photographing the view from an overlook on the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway. Not shown, obese chipmunk planning for his next snack.

In the morning we load up the bike. Returning from the outhouse, I notice the Gold Wing is on its side! The ground, softened by the overnight rain, was not able to support the fully loaded bike, forcing us to heave it back up again. The practice we get picking the bike up will come in handy the next day in Montana.

We make our way north on U.S Route 191, west of Yellowstone park, and enjoy the scenic ride through mountainous recreation areas to Bozeman. We then take the lovely Montana Highway 86 up to U.S Route 89 and then to the deserted Montana Highway 294. The secondary highways in this area are almost traffic free, and are quite scenic at times. We hop back on the 191 up to Lewistown, Montana. At the Yogo Inn we enjoy the indoor pool, hot tub and a poolside meal from the hotel restaurant.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Picturesque view from Montana Highway 86 north of Bozeman, Montana.

The next day, on a whim we decide to visit the ghost town of Kendall, outside of Lewistown off Route 191 that we’re taking to head north toward Saskatchewan. The road to the ghost town starts off as a nicely paved secondary road, but soon turns to gravel. We pass a couple ruins of old buildings, but the road continues, so we continue. The road narrows and turns into a single lane path, with big rocks and bumps. On an adventure bike it would be fun, but this is definitely not Gold Wing territory. There is no one else on this road, and as we climb the mountain to see where the road takes us, the guardrails disappear and the drops become larger.

As the bike bumps and gyrates along, Shayla expresses concern that we should probably not be on this road. Even though I tend to have a mental defect that makes me press on even when it may not be wise, I eventually have to admit that I’m pushing it too far.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
It’s easy to feel like you’re on top of the world while taking a break at a Beartooth Highway overlook.

The road seems narrower than the Gold Wing is long, so I get Shalya to disembark and proceed to do a multi-point U-turn. While backing up, the bike leans toward the left, my bad shoulder side, and I drop it! I’m OK, the bike is OK, and we both start laughing. I take a photo of the downed bike, which is really the only good thing about a bike being on its side.

We straighten up the bike and make our way back down the mountain. I derive a strange sort of pleasure from riding a motorcycle where it has no business being ridden, and Shayla starts getting into the absurdity of it. I’m cautious, and we bump and bounce along at 5 mph, laughing and giggling in our headsets. We don’t get to see the full ghost town, but the memory of trying to get to it will surely stay with us for a lifetime.

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Beehive Geyser in Yellowstone National Park erupting with bursts up to 200 feet in the air.

We head north on Route 191 and back into Canada, and eventually back home to Ottawa, Ontario. Sixteen days and 5,700 miles after leaving, we pull into our driveway, safe and sound.

I’ve heard it said how having kids is like a long, slow, painful good-bye. Kids start out being fully dependent on their parents, becoming less dependent as they grow, until they are eventually (hopefully) self-sufficient. My goal is to maintain as many ties as possible while that happens. My hope with this ride is that the shared experiences, the hours of conversation through our headsets, the challenges, the dropped bikes, the joys, the heat, the rain, and the time spent together, have contributed to that in some way. We’ll always remember the Beartooth, and we’ll always be able to laugh about the ghost town we almost visited. 

Beartooth Forever – a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone
Pull-off on U.S. Route 16 in Wyoming, in the Bighorn National Forest. with the mountains getting closer.

Beartooth Forever: a Father-Daughter Ride to Yellowstone Photo Gallery:

Source: RiderMagazine.com

Favorite Ride: Hawkeye Backroads – Secrets of Eastern Iowa

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads
Headed for home on County Road E17. Mid-September and it’s 89 degrees in the shade! Which is why the helmet and the jacket were quickly shed for this photo!

Iowa is not known as a motorcycling destination but a through state. Motorcyclists travel primarily on the four-lane roads thinking that’s all there is to see, and that includes many of those who live in Iowa. Even our maps don’t make it look inviting, as the squiggly lines aren’t all that squiggly. So here are some roads that I enjoy traveling that will be a treat for any motorcyclists looking for lightly traveled, interesting roads, and a highly adaptable route.

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads
Crossroads of the Universe in Waubeek. This is looking at the bar after you turn right at the bar and cross the bridge. The bar is very rustic but does have food, even a good breakfast.

I start at the intersection of State Route 13 and U.S. Route 151 in Marion only because I live near there. The route begins on what I call “transit” roads, or primarily straight roads. At County Road E34, head east toward the small town of Whittier (a few houses, a Friends meeting house and a small store), then turn north. I should note that terms like “village” and “hamlet” are not common in Iowa, so even a few houses grouped together are called a town. At Waubeek you’ll cross the Wapsipinicon River, where an old mill has been turned into a rustic bar. You’re now on Boy Scout Road, a former gravel road paved in the chip-and-dip manner. It’s narrow, the pavement is uneven but not rough, and it has some tight corners. It’s a short stretch to savor before returning to more traditional Iowa-style main roads.

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads
he 25 MPH suggested speed on Boy Scout Road is for grain wagons not motorcycles. Be aware of furry forest creatures though!

When Boy Scout Road ends, turn east onto County Road E16 and enjoy some smooth pavement with nice open curves. At a four-way stop, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, turn north on County Road X20. This is a nice paved road off the beaten path where you can enjoy the scenery with a few curves thrown in to keep you from getting white line fever (remember that!). Next take the road toward Hopkinton where you can, and most likely will, encounter horses and buggies, since there is an Amish population that runs several inviting country stores along the route. The road to Hopkinton, County Road D47 / 310th, starts out straight but then gets nice and curvy, with a tight S curve that can catch out the unaware. At Hopkinton, there’s a college that used to be active — it was in business about a hundred years ago and today you can do a ghost hunt/sleepover if that’s your thing. Heading north, you’ll find it is mostly smooth and mostly straight with a few open curves. The road is, however, somewhat rough between Hopkinton and Delhi. Delhi makes for a nice stop, with fuel available and a couple of good restaurants located on the small-town main street. You’ll run into State Highway 3 at a T intersection, where you’ll head left, then in a few short miles turn right onto Co. Rd. C7X. Turn right before the first big grain storage facility — bright metal bins — you can’t miss them.

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads

The road is smooth and has plenty of curves with gentle elevation changes. As you look around you’ll see what I call “vista views” across the hills that make up this corner of Iowa. You’ll pick up CR X3C at what’s left of Elkport. A flood devastated the community some years ago: they made the best of the situation and created a greenspace camping facility. The curves keep coming along with the views and smooth pavement until you intersect with State Highway 13 — yes, the same highway I started on. Head south toward an Iowa Welcome Center that has information, a small “Iowa Made” shop and displays of Iowa wildlife, making for a relaxing stop. There are plenty of opportunities to get food or gas along the way, but this stop makes for a quiet interlude. Leave the welcome center heading south looking for a right turn, County Road C24 / State Highway 112, heading west to Volga — any guesses as to what group settled here?

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads
The church is still going strong at Elkport even though the town is almost non-existent.

This road twists and turns, rises and falls, with a few blind turns thrown in as well. At Volga there’s a park that offers camping as well as access to the Volga River for kayaking. This area has become a destination for both leisurely kayakers and whitewater kayaking. Volga, like most of the other towns on the route, has a convenient city park perfect for a picnic. Follow the signs to Wadena and you’ll be on a trip back through time to what many people think of when they think of rural Iowa. In Wadena you can stop at a locker, a no-frills meat market, and pick up travel food like meat sticks and jerky or steaks to take home if you have a cooler. You’ll also see an old hotel turned into a private residence that still has the name Wadena stenciled on the windows (so that when you got off the train a hundred years ago you knew where you were). Been wondering why so many very small towns exist along this route? One word — railroad. These towns owe their existence to having access to a rail line when rail was the only reliable transportation and communication line in Iowa. In Claremont you’ll see an old depot that a local group is trying to save.

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads
This is looking back at the small city park in Claremont honoring Civil War and all Veterans.

When you reach Claremont, also known as “Brick City,” you can’t miss the turn of the century architecture throughout the town. Claremont was the home of the first governor of Iowa and has a statue and museum to prove it. Wadena and Claremont are still active and offer hospitality in the form of small-town restaurants and bars. These are not tourist towns, though they do cater to hunters in the fall and you won’t feel out of place.

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads
Even small towns in Iowa usually have some form of Veterans Memorial.

My ride doesn’t end at Claremont, you can reverse it (I like the way the curves string together heading north to south better then south to north), meander back on the other good roads in the area, explore the many graveled roads along the way if you’re so inclined or pick a new destination. I suggest that the best time to ride the route is any time you can — I’ve ridden it four times already this year and plan on riding it at least one more time. So look for the guy on a BMW RT wearing hi-viz gear. That most likely will be me! 

Favorite Ride – Hawkeye Backroads
The expansive view along County Road X3C reveals the gentle hills of northeast Iowa.

Favorite Ride: Hawkeye Backroads – Secrets of Eastern Iowa Photo Gallery:

Source: RiderMagazine.com

When Trans-Tasman travel returns then New Zealand beckons…

New Zealand Motorcycle Touring

By Peter Thoeming ‘The Bear’


It might still be a ways off, but the trans-Tasman travel bubble will happen eventually and we’ll be able to visit New Zealand once again to ride those wonderful roads and enjoy the company of our Kiwi compatriots. Somewhere I have a t-shirt I bought in Auckland that says, “I don’t care who wins as long as Australia loses” but they’re really not that bad.

Honda Africa Twin - Image by Trevor Hedge
Honda Africa Twin in NZ

The temptation is going to be to spend your time in the South Island, particularly riding the Arthur’s, Lewis and Haast passes and hanging around Queenstown, with an excursion across the Crown Range Road. I can’t say I’d blame you; all of those are among the destinations I’d tackle, as well. But there is more to New Zealand than that slice of the South Island.

Ride NZ on the Africa Twin
Riding NZ on the Africa Twin

Two summer roads for anyone who likes to get off the tar are the Rainbow and Molesworth roads. They both begin in Hanmer Springs; one ends near Blenheim, the other near St Arnaud. Some will tell you they’re hard going, but I met a couple of learners who did the Molesworth on Groms.

Just in case you thought you might not be welcome in Karamea, this is at the pub.
Just in case you thought you might not be welcome in Karamea, this is at the pub.

A short but very enjoyable run out of Christchurch is Akaroa, a Frenchified little town with good cafés, on the edge of an ancient volcanic crater.

Honda Africa Twin
Riding New Zealand’s South Island is sublime

On the other side of the island, many motorcyclists turn right just before Westport after riding the admittedly brilliant SH6 up the coast. Take a little extra time and continue the hundred kilometres up the coast to Karamea. You’ll find some superb riding over Karamea Bluff and a pleasant overnight stay at the Last Resort and Café.

Even out on the Forgotten Highway (partly gravel) there’s a pub.
Even out on the Forgotten Highway (partly gravel) there’s a pub.

But let’s not forget about the other island. While it sometimes seems as if all the motorcycle rental places are in Christchurch, you can find rentals in Auckland as well.

Plenty of option for touring around the New Zealand North Island

Head over to the relatively quiet roads of East Cape by way of the Coromandel Peninsula with its tourist attractions, or ride south instead to New Plymouth and then inland by way of the Forgotten Highway. That will take you to the volcanoes that dominate the island.

The Coromandel also has some nice coastline that can be ridden

If you like motor-type museums, drift south by way of the optimistically (or is that pessimistically?) named Desert Road to Waiouru for the QE2 Army Museum and onward to Paraparaumu for the amazing Southward Car Museum which has a few remarkable motorcycles, as well.

Honda Africa Twin
Riding New Zealand’s South Island is sublime

Too much for one trip! Plan at least two.

Plenty of great country pubs can be found on both Islands

Want to take your own bike?  Then speak to GetRouted.com.au as nobody knows more about shipping bikes across the Tasman than Dave!

DL NZ
Ship your bike to NZ with Get Routed

Source: MCNews.com.au

Get out and riding despite the plague! A few ideas…

Some quick trips

By Peter Thoeming ‘The Bear’


Don’t worry, you’re not trapped. Even with the Coronavirus romping around the country and locking State borders, there are still places you can go on your bike. Here are a few suggestions you may not have thought of. Even if you have thought of them, they may be places you intended to go “sometime” and never got around to. Go now!

Victoria: Well, okay, if you live in Melbourne you may be trapped after all. Once things ease off, here’s a fun one or two day ride. Whitfield is not too far from Melbourne – some 250 km via Yea and Mansfield. There is some excellent riding along the way, and while the pub’s accommodation was a bit ordinary last time I stayed there, it’s close enough to make it a day return ride from Melbourne. If venturing further than after Whitfield head to Myrtleford and then Mount Beauty or Bright.

The road from Whitfield to Yea is always a good run
The road from Yea through to Whitfield is always a good run

Queensland: Boonah is a nice little town, and I bet you’ve never even been there! A round trip via Beaudesert and Ipswich is about 200 km. Flavours Café has good coffee and even a little motorcycle history display. Nice run out from behind the Gold Coast via Canungrah.

South Australia: I like the Cradock pub. It’s on the RM Williams Way, about 350 km north of Adelaide. You know how sometimes people say, ‘There’s nothing much there?’ Well, there’s nothing at all at Cradock except the pub, but that’s a tidy little place with very affordable accommodation and quite good food. There are also several alternative ways to get there.

Animal life in Cradock consists mainly of corrugated iron cut-outs.
Animal life in Cradock consists mainly of corrugated iron cut-outs.

Western Australia: What about Wave Rock? It’s just outside Hyden, 340 km almost due east of Perth. Admittedly the roads to get there are pretty flat and straight, but they are tarred and that means it’s a good chance to give the bike a bit of a run! Nearby and reasonably inexpensive accommodation at the Wave Rock Motel has a pool and free Wi-Fi.  Ye Olde Quindanning Inne near Williams is another good quick out of town ride for lunch, or a big night at the bar with an overnighter.

Editor Trev at Wave Rock in the late 90s. Word is that it makes for an awesome berm… In less enlightened times…

Tasmania: I’d head for Bothwell, whether I lived in Launceston or Hobart. Good riding both ways (better from Launceston) with some optional routes, and wonderful vanilla slices.

New South Wales: Here’s a destination with a difference. The old silver mining town of Yerranderie is in the Blue Mountains, some 270 km from Sydney over a variety of roads. Mainly tarred, but with some gravel and dirt. Best thing is to camp there; taking all your own supplies.

Check out some motorcycle travel ideas with The Bear
Shooters Hill Road, the last bit of tarred surface on the way to Yerranderie.

Source: MCNews.com.au

The Pennsylvania Wilds

The Pennsylvania Wilds
The author’s Kawasaki Voyager 1700 basks in the sun alongside rolling Route 660 and the lush farmland near Pine Creek Canyon. A Pennsylvania dairy farm near Wellsboro stands proudly in the morning sun.

When I want to escape the daily grind for a few days, any motorcycle excursion I choose must have great roads, beautiful scenery, parks and interesting places to visit. The ride getting there is just as important as the destination, too. Rolling west on scenic roads through New Jersey and New York to the heart of Pennsylvania adds to the adventure. The North-Central Pennsylvania Wilds region contains 2.1 million acres of public land and is one of the least populated areas in the northeast.

With hundreds of miles of roads to explore and small towns with a 1950’s vibe that dot the landscape, the Wilds’ forests and mountains are also home to elk, bear, deer, coyote, fox and rattlesnake. In fact, if you really want to add an extra level of excitement to the trip, visit in the spring and participate in one of the annual rattlesnake roundups.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
Some of our group celebrating atop Hyner View State Park (from left: Wild Bill, Maggie May, Nordic Linda, Road Captain Ken, and in back, Woodstock Mark).

When I started talking about my trip, I thought a few friends might be interested, but eventually 12 riders on 10 bikes wanted to join me—a bit of a large group but manageable. Morning rain delayed our departure time for more than an hour, and we still left Ringwood, New Jersey with it coming down. Traveling west, we bounced along on the two-lane Greenwood Lake Turnpike and weaved alongside the lush forested mountains that line the blue waters of the Wanaque and Monksville Reservoirs. Climbing up and over Bearfort Mountain, we rode through a section of the 34,350-acre Wawayanda State Park and into the expansive farmland of the Pine Island black dirt region of New York State.

At Port Jervis the rain took a respite and we blasted off on Interstate 84, a scenic highway that cuts through the forested hills of eastern Pennsylvania. On weekdays, traffic is usually light. My Kawasaki Voyager 1700 handled the backroads with aplomb and did the same on the Interstate, eating up 65 miles of highway in no time along with the other nine bikes.

The Pennsylvania Wilds

Taking Interstate 81 north to Waverly, we had a tasty lunch at the Camelot Restaurant and Inn. After lunch, the sky had cleared and the sun gazed down upon us like a mother admiring her newborn. Traveling west on State Route 632, this curvaceous two-lane road led us to famous U.S. Route 6, also known as the Grand Army of the Republic Highway. It honors the Union Civil War Veterans and travels 3,199 miles from Bishop, California to Provincetown, Massachusetts.

At Russell Hill, we exited Route 6 onto the rural and rustic State Route 87, which for the most part is decently paved and serpentines through wave-like Pennsylvania farmland devoid of any large towns. However, for the rest of the day’s ride, Mother Nature toyed with us like a heartless bully: rain then clearing, rain then clearing and so on.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
Facing the Loyalsock Creek, the Forksville Methodist Church epitomizes the rural style of Pennsylvania churches.

We continued on Route 87 to the Forksville Covered Bridge. Built in 1850, the 152-foot-long bridge crosses Loyalsock Creek and is on the National Register of Historic Places. Since Wild Bill and Woodstock Mark wanted a snack, we stopped at the Forksville General Store & Restaurant, erected in 1851. The store’s motto is “Let’s get forked up.” It is known for its Philly cheesesteak sandwich, as well as other culinary delights. Nearby the Worlds End State Park has scenic overlooks, a swimming area, a campground and cabins.

Backtracking to State Route 154, which is a more rural route than Route 87, we weaved and bobbed through farmland and forest, the road occasionally caressing small villages where at times we felt like we had sailed into the 19th century. For the most part, this country road was in good condition all the way to State Route 414.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
Wild Bill gets his “cool on” while posing with our machines at Hyner View State Park.

At State Route 287, we roared north to Wellsboro, gateway to Pennsylvania’s Grand Canyon area and our home for the next two nights. Excellent views of the Canyon can be seen from Leonard Harrison and Colton Point State Parks, both roughly a 12-mile ride from Wellsboro. Officially named Pine Creek Gorge, it is almost 50 miles long, more than 1,000 feet deep in spots and a mile across at its widest. A rail trail runs the entire length of the gorge, which is surrounded by 160,000 acres of the Tioga State Forest.

Settled in 1806, Wellsboro’s population is 3,328, and its gas-lit streetlights and Victorian Mansions date back to the early 1800s. The town’s two-storied Main Street architecture screams rural America, and restaurants are within walking distance of several motels. After a hearty meal at the family owned The Steak House Restaurant and a few celebratory libations, we called it a day.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
Time for a map check on Route 44 before entering the 215,500-acre Tiadaghton State Forest.

Saturday greeted us with sunshine and blue skies. We left early, our caravan of motorcycles pulsating through the cool morning air as we rumbled through Wellsboro to the friendly waves of locals. Heading south on State Route 287, we stormed through the countryside like the cavalry charging (Fort) Salladasburg, one of only five villages on this 36-mile section of road. State Route 973 led us west into a tunnel of greenery that enveloped this twisting, hilly roadway to State Route 44 north, which plunged us ever deeper into the Wilds.

Finding Hyner Mountain Road proved a bit challenging, so I stopped to consult my map and also asked Warp Speed Vito to program the road into his GPS. Approaching the turnoff, he signaled it was up ahead. Coming from the east, there are two roadways to Hyner View State Park; bypass the first unpaved one and take the paved Hyner View Road a few miles beyond on the left. This narrow, bumpy, twisting five-mile road leads to a spectacular panorama of the Pennsylvania Wilds, which incorporates 304,540 acres of Sproul State Forest. The West Branch Susquehanna River slithers alongside State Route 120 as it passes through several small river towns.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
Described as “The Best Classic Diner in America,” the railroad car-style 1939 Wellsboro Diner serves delicious and reasonably priced meals.

Stopping for lunch at the Sportsman’s Hotel & Restaurant in Renovo, Too Cool Drew and Scott, “the Hurricane,” suggested we dine on the patio. The food and service were good, as was the conversation with local riders who kidded us about being a bunch “tough bikers from Jersey.” Due to recent heavy rains, our waitress mentioned there might be bad road conditions leading to Kettle Creek State Park, but they all proved to be fine.

Riding west on Route 120 to Westport and then Kettle Creek Road is a beautiful run alongside the West Branch of the Susquehanna River and Kettle Creek; both were swollen from the rains. Cruising parallel to the creek surrounded by forest was like floating through the wilderness.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
Hyner View State Park vista includes the West Branch of the Susquehanna River, Route 120 and the forested mountains of Sproul State Forest.

Kettle Creek State Park’s 1,793-acres lie in a valley surrounded by the mountains of the Sproul State Forest. The Alvin R. Bush Dam is 165 feet high and controls 226 square miles of drainage. A flood that wiped out a large portion of this area, including parts of Renovo, was the impetus for the dam and park. Today, Kettle Creek State park is home to elk, bald eagles, coyote, fox and bear, among other wildlife.

Taking a break by the lake proved most relaxing, so much so that Down-on-the-Farm Darwin took a nap in the grass. We enjoyed the view and the cool breeze blowing off the lake. Kettle Creek State Park has two campgrounds, cabins, a small beach and non-motorized boat rentals. For riders who like to combine riding with camping, the park makes a great base camp for additional exploring.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
The French Azilum Marie Antoinette Lookout off Route 6 near Wyalusing.

Nordic Linda ended our respite saying, “Hey, guys, let’s get moving. I want to enjoy the pool before dinner.” So we fired up our machines moving north on smooth State Route 144, which snakes its way through forestland to Route 6. Then we traveled east toward Pine Creek Gorge (Pennsylvania’s Grand Canyon), and on to Wellsboro.

Sunday morning greeted us with smiling sunshine that would follow us home. Route 6, a designated Scenic Byway, would be our main route to New Jersey. Although not as impressive as some of the other roads we traveled, it is nonetheless a pretty ride through the countryside and small towns of an earlier era.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
Looking southeast from the French Azilum encompasses valley farmland and mountains.

One of the most impressive views on Route 6 is from the French Azilum, also known as the Marie Antoinette (of “Let them eat cake” fame) Lookout. Eight miles east of Towanda, the view of the Susquehanna River Valley unfolded before our eyes like a colorful bedspread of farmlands dotting the valley, with low rising mountains sitting on the horizon.

At Dixon, I bypassed the congested areas of Route 6, taking State Route 92 (a bit bumpy) northeast to State Route 374 and then south on State Route 106, both smooth rural roads, and reconnected with Route 6 for a short time at Carbondale (State Route 107 is a shorter, simpler bypass). From Carbondale, we jumped on the Owego Turnpike, which serpentines through the countryside to Route 6 in Hawley.

Riding home from Hawley with the warm wind and sun caressing my face, I smiled with thoughts of the trip. Although we were a large group, all worked out well. We overcame a day of rainy weather and a few missed turns, but we had a great time. We sailed through forests and small towns, visited impressive state parks and rode our motorcycles to the top of panoramic vistas. Yet, there was still so much left to explore, making a return to the Pennsylvania Wilds an enjoyable inevitability.

The Pennsylvania Wilds
The cows speaking: “Don’t eyeball us, biker folk; we Pennsylvania heifers are tough.”

Story and photos by Kenneth W. Dahse

The Pennsylvania Wilds Photo Gallery:

Source: RiderMagazine.com

An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One
The new-to-me BMW strikes a pose atop a favored section of the Pacific Coast Highway.

Northern California’s Pacific Coast Highway might be the best use of asphalt anywhere. From expansive ocean views to the west, to often fog-shrouded hilltops to the east, this north coast section of the roadway splits coastal prairies, tunnels through cypress groves, twists into stream gullies and, around turns, repeatedly prompts an involuntary “Oh, my!” no matter how many times I’ve ridden it.

This day, I’m heading south from Point Arena astride a 1986 BMW R80RT I’d just inherited. My brother had injured his throttle hand in an industrial accident and his bike needed a home. I volunteered. That’s what brothers do.

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One
Weathered barn / building at Sea Ranch, California.

I’d been smitten with this model since 1983 when I was offered use of the brand-new RT for the day while my year-old bike was in the shop. I remember an irrepressible grin as I sampled a curvy road just out of town. I liked the slightly taller saddle, roomier accommodations, breeze protection and space-age look. Not available 12 months earlier, I remember thinking, “Why couldn’t I have just waited a year and gotten one of these?”

Fast forward 35 years, and one falls into my lap.

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One

The first order of business for this new-to-me old bike was a visit to Point Arena’s Zen House, the place for “the art of motorcycle maintenance,” for a professional service and safety once-over. While I viewed some of the classic restorations in and about the shop, owner David Harris checked out the RT and explained how he would sort my new possession, addressing seals, gaskets and busted parts and even replacing roundels on the tank. “Let’s do it!” I said.

A couple of weeks later, I’m back listening as David walks me through the care and feeding of the old R80 much as a dealer would for a customer about to head out on something shiny and new. His final comment? “You know, you could take this bike around the world if you wanted.”

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One
Author and BMW outside the Stewarts Point Store. Only one of us is particularly photogenic. Perhaps if I were sporting a beret?

Around the world wasn’t on today’s agenda but the day is lovely, and I am already out on the Pacific Coast Highway.

Moments after leaving Point Arena, I’m immersed in mist and splashes of sunlight and the aroma of sea spray and pasture. The ragged fence lines, aging barns, sweeping curves and tantalizing crests of this familiar road are a good kind of different on the vintage machine. Perhaps it’s the rustic thrum of the old boxer’s engine.

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One
The RT gets a thorough sorting at the Zen House in Point Arena.

Gualala offers fuel and food and, across the river, a fine county park to explore, where I pause. A paved path leads to bluffs and the siren’s song of surf and sea lions prompts me to take it. Remnants of cables and concrete remind me that redwood from these parts, transported on dog hole schooners, built San Francisco. Twice.

The Sea Ranch, an enclave of mostly second homes, rests on the bench south of the Gualala River. The highway is wide and well maintained, though damp where shaded. Views of the ocean are infrequent. There is some cross traffic from residents and renters, so perhaps it’s good not to be distracted by the sea.

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One
The Stewarts Point Store offers food, drink, rest and a peek into the area’s ranching and timber heritage. The store offers a sandwich called “the Hog,” in which I indulged even though I was not riding American iron this day.

At Stewarts Point a small country store offers freshly baked breads, a deli producing delectable sandwiches, hot coffee for those days of foggy rides and cold beverages for when the sun shines, along with local wines, sweets and knickknacks. Entering the building I can hear century-old footsteps from when the mercantile was frequented by area ranchers and nearby mill workers. I’m told there’s a dance hall upstairs.

Winding south, I pass through villages and vacation rentals, viewpoints and trailheads. I should stop for a picture of a breaking wave or the roadway slipping around a curve and disappearing into a copse of coastal evergreens, but riding an iconic airhead on this iconic highway is magical—the grin from 30 years ago has returned—and I don’t want to stop.

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One

Fort Ross and its farm fields once served as the grocery store for Russian fur trappers working the Aleutians. Here, I take a break. A handsome visitors center introduces me to those lost pieces of history I often whiz right past and later curse myself for missing. The original wall was repurposed by John Sutter after the Russians departed. The hewn lumber of the old stockade was shipped to where Sutter was building his own fort in what would become Sacramento. Highway 1 once passed right through the parade grounds but has been rerouted and the stockade rebuilt.

South from here, Highway 1 climbs and dives over disintegrating cliffs and benches that were once sea floor. I am tracing the scarp of the notorious San Andreas Fault for quite a distance. Along this windy stretch, two forces are engaged in an epic battle: plate tectonics and erosion versus highway maintenance workers. Pavement in this section slumps and cracks, but the old bike feels solid and surefooted.

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One
Historic Fort Ross reminds us that the Russians preceded our occupation in these parts.

Clear day views stretch forever. I stop at a favored spot with a breathtaking view of the Pacific and snap a picture of my new possession. The photo will join the collection of a half-dozen other bikes I’ve owned whose portraits have been taken here.

Late autumn dusk settles early, and I head inland at Jenner. Winding along the Russian River, I reflect on how perfectly the old Beemer handled today’s first ride. The engine purred in harmony with the sea. The skinny tires devoured the curves. The low center of gravity made handling second nature. And the windscreen and heated grips—quite the innovations for bikes of that era—made the chilly ride comfortable.

It turns out that not having purchased this model three decades ago had an upside. It allowed me to better appreciate the delight that now carried me—make that us—home. 

Favorite Ride - An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One
A short walk at Pelican Bluffs, just south of Point Arena, offers a breathtaking view of the never-ending work of the Pacific.

An Old Bike and the Sea: A first ride on Highway One Photo Gallery:

Source: RiderMagazine.com

Around the world with The Bear | Part 35 | Arizona to Hollywood

Motorcycle Touring in the USA

The King of Every Kingdom
Around the world on a very small motorcycle

With J. Peter “The Bear” Thoeming

Sitting Bull ate a handful of gunpowder every day. Maybe I should have been drinking petrol..


The bike was still running well and lapping up the excellent roads of Arizona and Nevada. But it was getting a little hard to start again, so whenever I pulled up to take a look at the Canyon, I tried to find a slope to make clutch starting easier. Despite these concerns, I still found the Canyon stunning.

The sheer size is overpowering, and it takes quite a while before the mind can take in its scale. It’s very pretty, too, but it reminded me irresistibly of an enormous layer cake that’s been attacked by monster mice.

From here, I turned north-east towards Durango and the Rockies. The old Indians at the roadside stalls where I stopped to buy turquoise souvenirs had the most awe-inspiring faces I think I’ve ever seen – except perhaps for some of the Tibetans in Nepal. Lined and sombre, their faces reminded me of photos of Sitting Bull. Did you know that he reportedly ate a handful of gunpowder every day to protect himself from gunshots?

Around the world with The Bear Peter Thoeming Part PICTxUp through the mountains the altitude put me in a good mood with the XL also performing well

The road past the bald head of Engineer Mountain and up to the 11,000 ft pass leading to Silverton was great. Quite aside from the fact that I was enjoying having corners again – despite its weight and nearly worn-out shock absorbers, the XL was fun on winding roads – I also got an altitude high.

This happens to me occasionally when I get too high up, and I start making faces, singing, cracking jokes and laughing like crazy – all to myself. It also helped that I was back in the lovely Rockies, with forests of aspens and conifers on the steep slopes and that bracing, cold, clean air. Some of the aspens were already beginning to turn from green to gold. Winter was on its way.

I hurried to get to Denver, where I expected mail to be waiting for me, but of course the best-laid plans of mice and bears… Just outside Conifer, some 40 miles from Denver, my throttle actuating cable broke. I was on the very edge of the huge rampart of mountains that leads down to Denver, so I tried coasting.

I got 18 miles before I ran out of hill! Then – at Bear Lake, to add insult to injury – I finally had to give in and switch the return cable with the broken one. This gave me a throttle control, but of course it now turned the opposite way—to accelerate, I had to turn the throttle away from me. Lots of fun in peak-hour Denver traffic!

Around the world with The Bear Peter Thoeming Part RIMGA broken throttle cable saw me coast 18 miles, before stopping to switch the return cable around

By now it was too late to go to the post office, and when I got there in the morning there was no mail for me anyway. It’s always a bit depressing when you’re on the road for a while and don’t get mail. You really feel lonely.

But I still had the address of John-with-the-BMW, whom I’d met in Michigan, so I went up to Boulder to stay with him. In traditional American style, I was made most welcome by all the inhabitants of his house and spent a cheerful few days there. Boulder is full of musicians and has an excellent library. I loafed and read and listened to music. My mail was waiting for me when I got to Denver again a week later, and my bliss was nearly complete. But I was still missing Annie, very much.

Down I rode to Colorado Springs along the row of frozen combers that make up the eastern edge of the Rocky Mountains, and then up and around Pike’s Peak to Cripple Creek. An early mining settlement, this little town has now suffered the fate of all picturesque places in the US – it’s become a tourist trap and derives its substance from the buses. It was still pretty, though, and the scenery on the way even more so. Some of the trees were now changing from gold to bright scarlet and the slopes were marbled with the different shades.

Around the world with The Bear Peter Thoeming PartTaos proved the ultimate in tourist towns…

Sand Dunes National Memorial, an enormous dune formed by wind forced to drop its load of dust and sand by a mountain range, was not as impressive as the booklet had suggested, so I took my leave again and headed for New Mexico. Leaving Kit Carson’s old fort to one side (he was the local hero here), I made Taos in the early afternoon. This has to be just about the ultimate in tourist towns – it gives the impression of having been built exclusively for the trade. Not that it isn’t pretty, it just seems so phony. Perhaps I shouldn’t talk. I only spent an hour there.

I slept up in the hills above Santa Fe that night, deep in another world. Everyone here speaks Spanish, the shop signs are in Spanish and the fluorescent Coors advertisements all say ‘cerveza’ instead of ‘beer’. I felt as though I’d made it to Mexico. In another sad case of prejudice, a white Anglo-Saxon-etc American I asked wouldn’t tell me where any of the local bars were. He didn’t think I really ought to drink with ‘those people’.

Around the world with The Bear Peter Thoeming Part‘Mexican Hat Service’ – Stopping for fuel

From Santa Fe I took the back roads to Albuquerque and found myself back up in the mountains. It was drizzly and cold, too, but the road was well surfaced, narrow and twisty; I had a good time here. I also stopped in a weird little town called Madrid. It had obviously not long since been a ghost town, but now a great crew of hippies was busy restoring, shoring up and beautifying the wonky-looking timber houses.

On the way to Ruidoso and the Aspencade Motorcyclists Convention, I began to worry about the chain again. I’d had to tighten it rather frequently – neither of the chains I’d bought in the US lasted very well – and now the bike was jerking quite noticeably. I had all sorts of fantasies about bent countershafts (silly) and twisted sprockets (sillier).

Riding was becoming unpleasant. I made it to Ruidoso anyway, and spent a relaxed couple of days watching the bikes roll in. I’d been in touch with Honda, and they had expressed an interest in having my XL250 on their stand at the trade show, so, once the show started, I spent my evenings down there talking to the visitors – who found it very difficult to believe that anyone could be crazy enough to ride a 250 around the world.

Around the world with The Bear Peter Thoeming PartAspencade Motorcyclists Convention

Days were spent drinking with my newly acquired friends Norman – who left his little dog Honda guarding their Gold Wing – and Bob, who’d ridden to the show on one of the very few two-strokes around.

Nothing much was going on, rather a disappointment after the bustle of European rallies, but it was great to talk to so many people, from so many walks of life, who were all devoted to motorcycling. I was a little surprised to see relatively few Harleys compared with the waves of Gold Wings that inundated the place.

I rode the new Harley Sturgis, and was very impressed with the belt drives, and spent a lot of time admiring the custom bikes. Unfortunately, they mostly looked as though they’d been put together out of three only slightly different mail-order catalogues. There was not really much variety. The trikes were spectacular, but once again there was little variety among them. On the third day, I won the ‘Longest Distance-Solo Male Rider’ trophy, which still hangs proudly on the wall of my office.

Then it was off again – a straight run for the coast. Every trip has a limited lifespan, and after 11 weeks this one was gasping its last. So it was out onto the Interstate, a road I generally avoided, and off.

Around the world with The Bear Peter Thoeming PartI could tell I was reaching the natural end of my journey with the trusty XL

Seventeen miles from Yuma the steering went heavy. Inspection showed that the patch we had put on the front tube in the Khyber Pass had lifted. It was well over 35 degrees C, there was no shade, and in fact it was very similar to the conditions in which the tube had first given out. It went flat again just outside Yuma, so I had a new tube fitted.

I rather begrudged that now, seeing we were so close to the end of the trip, but I couldn’t be bothered with any more flats. In El Centro I also found an excellent bike shop, where they located a good second-hand Tsubaki chain to replace my old, worn-out one. So I was ready to face the last stretch with confidence!

The road to the coast was most enjoyable, through rugged hills on an excellent surface. In San Diego a solid wall of smog was waiting for me. I made my way down to the Pacific – nice to see an old friend again – and watched the huge oily rollers coming in all the way from Australia.

Up the coast into the rat’s nest of freeways that is Los Angeles, and a stop at the Road Rider magazine office, where I was received very kindly and offered the use of a typewriter to belt out a few stories for them and refresh my traveling kitty.

Around the world with The Bear Peter Thoeming PartWas always a pleasure meeting fellow riders, many surprised by my trip on the XL compared to the more common machinery seen in North America

I spent the last few days before my flight was due wandering around, by bike mostly, and sightseeing. I found Hollywood especially interesting – not so much the homes of the stars as Hollywood Boulevard. Then I had lunch with the friendly folk from Honda USA, entrusted my little bike to them for forwarding to Australia and climbed aboard the plane with the big red kangaroo on the tail.

I spent the flight planning the next trip…


And that, as they say, is all he wrote. But of course I wrote a lot of other stuff after this… and I’m grateful to all of you who read it.

Source: MCNews.com.au

Video – Leisky and Heato take the 701 Enduro touring

With KTM/Husqvarna head honcho Jeff Leisk retiring last year he now has the time to get out and about on the new Husqvarna 701 Enduro LR.

Follow his recent journey with long time friend and Channel Ten Executive Producer Michael Heaton in this video.

Source: MCNews.com.au

Ride Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England

“Ride Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England” first appeared in the June 2020 issue of Rider Magazine.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
Story and photography by: Scott A. Williams.

Roads that curve along a river are among my favorites to explore on two wheels, and western New England has them in abundance. The hilly terrain and seasonal climate promote the formation of rivers, and for millennia people have used rivers and land along their banks to get from place to place. River roads, particularly the smaller and less traveled ones, often follow the same basic path they did before motorized travel, and the best ones are a roller-coaster ride for motorcyclists.

If you like to move right along and keep stops brief, this 300-mile route through western Massachusetts and southern Vermont delivers a full day of curvy two-lane entertainment. If you prefer a moderate pace and relaxing along the way, there are ample opportunities to enjoy views, savor local cuisine and visit small New England towns. One of southern Vermont’s ski towns will have amenities you need for an enjoyable night on the road.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England

This route begins and ends in South Deerfield, Massachusetts. I roll north onto State Route 116, one of the Bay State’s official scenic byways, and within a couple miles it curves to follow the Mill River and then the South River. The tar is fresh so my grin stretches even wider than the last time I motored through here. Just as my mirrors reveal the sun peeking above the hills, I come upon a pasture of Holstein cows whose interest is piqued by the approaching pulse of my BMW’s boxer twin. I pull over briefly to bid the bovine ladies good morning.

Not eager to meet early-rising constabulary, I roll off the throttle coming down the hill into the center of Conway. These days this quaint village is known for the annual Festival of the Hills, but once it was a thriving mill town. In 1767, Caleb Sharp’s Gristmill was Conway’s first waterpowered mill. A series of dams managed water from the South River to power mills that ground corn and flax, sawed lumber, spun cotton and fulled wool. The unreliable nature of waterpower was compounded by cycles of drought and flood, so mill owners gradually upgraded from waterpower to coal-fueled steam power as the 1800s progressed.

After another snaking stretch of Route 116 to Ashfield, a right on Baptist Corner Road leads me to a pair of grazing horses that catch my attention for their brightly colored fly masks. I don’t want to spook them so I slow down. The curious chestnut mare nickers my way and shakes. Farther along I pass a hillside farm where row upon row of neatly shaped evergreens await a Christmas yet-to-come.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
The center of Conway is no metropolis, but it does have fuel and eats at Baker’s Country Store.

It adds a few miles, but it’s fun crossing the Deerfield River on Bardwell’s Ferry Bridge, just to hear the clomp of rubber tires on the wooden deck. At Shelburne Falls I point north on State Route 112 and follow the North River, then at Adamsville Road I turn left to follow the North River’s West Branch. Many rivers in these parts break into two or even three branches that converge again downstream. At State Route 8A, I hang a left and savor another great winding road. It soon parallels Mill Brook and carries me across the Bissel Covered Bridge to the village of Charlemont.

Heading west, the Mohawk Trail (State Route 2) follows the Deerfield River and then the Cold River. Originally, the Mohawk Trail was a Native American footpath that connected the Connecticut and Hudson River Valleys. This section through the Mohawk Trail State Forest to the town of Florida includes some of the state’s most beautiful river scenery. The road gains elevation as it carves along the cliffside, but a right turn on Whitcomb Hill Road quickly gives it all back, heading steeply down toward the Deerfield River.

The route turns left onto River Road and hugs the Deerfield. Just upstream, this river once was a source of cooling water for the Yankee Rowe Atomic Electricity Company. The nuclear plant, hidden from view in the woods, closed in 1992 and was decommissioned. Now on warm weather weekends, the river is frequently packed with tubers, canoeists and rafters enjoying the current, which is helped along by scheduled dam releases upstream.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
The Conway Covered Bridge spans the South River in the village of Burkeville, Massachusetts. Built in 1871 and restored in 2005, it’s listed in the National Register of Historic Places.

River Road becomes Readsboro Road and at the Vermont border it becomes Tunnel Street. Such renaming of a continuing stretch of asphalt is not uncommon in New England, especially on back roads. In Readsboro, I go left on Vermont State Route 100 South, which, in this stretch, actually points northwest. This heading keeps me on the Deerfield River’s West Branch to the junction with State Route 8, where a right puts me on another curvy gem to Searsburg.

Turning right on State Route 9 offers sweepers to Wilmington where I reconnect with Route 100. Here 100 is sign-posted north and actually goes that way. It’s one of Vermont’s best-known scenic roads, curving with the Deerfield River’s North Branch to Dover and then Blue Brook, past the Mount Snow ski resort and through the Green Mountains National Forest. This road can get crowded in summer and during fall foliage season, but today, in early September, it’s practically empty. At a lay-by along slow-flowing Blue Brook, I enjoy the sandwich I packed.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
Row upon row of evergreens line this hillside at Cranston’s Christmas Tree Farm in Ashfield, Massachusetts.

Route 100 winds its way north through Jamaica and Rawsonville to South Londonderry. There I turn sharply right onto Main Street, then left on Thompsonburg Road along a stream, up toward Magic Mountain ski area. A right on State Route 11 takes me over to State Route 121, which meanders with the Saxtons River. In Grafton I turn right onto Townshend Road, which becomes Grafton Road in Townshend. This asphalt ribbon runs along the Saxtons River’s South Branch.

Now a right onto State Route 35 has me running south. The tree cover is so dense I can’t see the Mill Brook that my GPS assures me is flowing just to my left. At Townshend I make my way to State Route 30. Scores of cars, pickups and SUVs parked on the shoulders are evidence of the West River’s popularity as a warm weather recreation destination.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
Hay windrows dry in the early morning sun in this field in Conway, Massachusetts.

Beyond Townshend Dam I stop for a break in the quintessential Vermont village of Newfane, which has opportunities to experience Vermont’s interesting history and often-curious culture.

On West Street I roll up to the celebrated Four Columns Inn, where a classic car is frequently displayed on the front lawn. Today it’s a 1955 Nash Rambler Greenbrier two-door station wagon in two-tone green. Nash was arguably the first American manufacturer of the post-war era to make compact cars, bucking the bigger-is-better trend, so this beautifully preserved albeit humble antique is a significant automobile.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
West of Charlemont, Massachusetts, the Deerfield River flows along the Mohawk Trail. Originally, the Mohawk Trail was a Native American footpath that connected the Connecticut and Hudson River Valleys.

Only a few steps to the south, and continuing Vermont’s characteristic white-clapboard architecture, are the First Congregational Church and the Union Hall. Originally built as a church in 1832, the Union Hall in 1872 became a site for community events including plays, dances, movies and that time-honored method of democratic local government, the town meeting.

After this brief and worthwhile respite, I continue south on 30. Just before Williamsville, I lean west toward Dover along the Rock River down to Route 100 south and all the way to Jacksonville. There, I bear left onto State Route 112, which runs south along the North River back into Massachusetts, through Colrain and Shattuckville to the Mohawk Trail.

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
Union Hall, First Congregational Church and Four Columns Inn, on the Village Green in Newfane, Vermont.

Again, I find myself heading west along Massachusetts Route 2 and the Deerfield River, back to Charlemont. This time I turn south on 8A, cross the Deerfield River, and then follow the Chickley River through Hawley to State Route 116. There I turn right (north) and in a few miles cut hard left onto River Road, which parallels the Westfield River along the edge of Windsor State Forest.

At State Route 9, I turn right and then left onto Worthington Road, which becomes Cole Street and then East Windsor Road. By cutting right onto State Route 143, another River Road soon emerges, this one curving with the Westfield River’s Middle Branch all the way to Skyline Trail in Chester. Continuing to Huntington, a left onto State Route 112 north follows the Westfield River then the Little River to Worthington. A ways on Route 112 makes a hard right turn at an intersection with Trouble Road. (I haven’t been looking for trouble, but I find it anyway.)

Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
Union Hall, First Congregational Church and Four Columns Inn, on the Village Green in Newfane, Vermont.

In Cummington, 112 overlaps 9, the Berkshire Trail, which closely follows Meadow Brook and the Swift River, then past Goshen and the Mill River’s West Branch. I roll off approaching the village of Williamsburg. In the center, I turn left onto North Road, which becomes Ashfield Williamsburg Valley Road, then Ashfield Road, then South Ashfield Road, and then Williamsburg Road (because…New England) along the Mill River’s East Branch. South of Ashfield, this pleasantly winding road with so many names ends at Route 116. This is the same stretch of 116 that started my ride. Bonus—it’s a hoot in both directions!

Of course there are other New England river roads that aren’t part of this route but definitely worth your time (see sidebar). Wherever you find such roads, take a ride along the riverside. 

More favorite river roads in New England:

  • VT 102 curves with the Connecticut River from Canaan to Guild Hall, Vermont.
  • NH 16 follows the Androscoggin River and then Bear Brook from Berlin to Errol, New Hampshire.
  • NH 13 snakes along the Piscataquoag River’s South Branch from Goffstown to New Boston, New Hampshire.
  • U.S. 5 gently winds along scenic stretches of the Connecticut River, especially between Barnet and Norwich, Vermont, and again between Ascutney and Rockingham, Vermont.
  • MA 8 twists alongside the Farmington River’s West Branch from New Boston to West Becket, Massachusetts.
  • U.S. 7 hugs the banks of the Housatonic River between Falls Village and New Milford, Connecticut.
Riding Along the Riverside: Sport Touring in Western New England
East River Road in North Chester, Massachusetts, closely follows the Westfield River’s Middle Branch.

Source: RiderMagazine.com