Utah’s national parks – Arches, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, and Zion – are known as the Mighty 5. All feature impressive red rock formations, landscapes, and vistas, yet each is unique. In late September, after the worst of the summer heat and crowds, my wife and I toured three Utah National Parks on a motorcycle.
We were coming from California. Younger riders or those with iron butts may choose to endure the entire journey on two wheels, but we prefer burning the hundreds of interstate miles to get there and back in comfort, and we like to bring more for a two-week trip than can fit on a bike. We rented an RV and a trailer, loaded up my BMW R 1200 GS, stocked up on gear, food, beer, and wine, and hit the road from our home in Oxnard.
We “glamped” in RV parks, all of which had wide pull-through spots with plenty of trailer and bike parking. Once parked, we saddled up for scenic day rides. Being on a motorcycle made it easier to cruise through the national parks and slip into smaller parking spaces. At the end of each day, we returned to our campsite for a sundowner by the fire. For this trip, we purchased a National Parks and Federal Recreational Lands Pass for $80, which paid for itself upon entrance to our third park and gave us access to other parks for a full year.
On a perfect 70-degree clear day, we mounted the GS, departed Thousand Lakes RV Park in Torrey, Utah, and rode into Capitol Reef National Park, known for its 100-mile wrinkle in the earth’s crust called the Waterpocket Fold. It was formed as rocks were pushed upward and erosion sliced and diced through the layers, creating deep, narrow canyons and towering monoliths.
We rode past Panoramic Point down a short washboard dirt road to Goosenecks Overlook. I changed the GS’s suspension setting to Comfort mode and promptly received a “Thanks, Babe” from Nicole via our helmet comms. The view from Goosenecks Overlook of the river below and the slender S-curve it cut into the canyon was splendid.
Continuing into the park, we turned right at the visitor center onto Capitol Reef Scenic Drive, a paved road that turns to dirt after 8 miles at the Capitol Gorge Road picnic area. There is so much to see in all directions that we poked along at about 20 mph. Coming back, we turned onto a bumpy 2-mile dirt road and rode through a couple dry washes to the Cassidy Arch trailhead and Grand Wash. I checked the horizon for storms, as even distant rain could quickly make those washes impassable. The scenery as we approached the trailhead changed dramatically, making the detour a must-do.
Utah National Parks on a Motorcycle: Canyonlands
Due to a late start from our campsite at the Sun Outdoors Arches Gateway in Moab, we were turned away from Arches because it was at capacity. Even in the “shoulder” season, high-traffic parks like Arches fill up early, so depending on when you go, plan ahead and reserve a timed entry ticket. Even though Canyonlands is only a few miles from Arches, it gets much less traffic, so we headed there instead.
We had to wait to get into Canyonlands too, but Nicole and I passed the time by chatting and digging into our bag of snacks. Following the requisite snapshot at the park entrance sign, we proceeded along the huge flat-topped Island in the Sky Mesa and the 34-mile roundtrip paved road that connects the panoramic viewpoints. These overlooks are 1,000 feet above the surrounding terrain, so the views are spectacular.
Utah National Parks on a Motorcycle: Arches
A much earlier start the next day paid off. We began the tour of Arches at The Windows Section, home of Double Arch, the Parade of Elephants formation, North Window, and Turret Arch. We brought shorts and tennis shoes to comfortably walk amongst the sites, as well as a picnic lunch. My favorite was Double Arch, a pothole arch with a span that’s 144 feet wide and 112 feet high formed by water erosion from above rather than more typical erosion from the side.
A brisk 10-minute walk took us to North Window, standing 93 feet wide and 51 feet high, where we stumbled upon a group of local grade-schoolers with canvas and paintbrushes in hand, tapping into their inner artist. “Don’t get too focused on the sky, or you’ll end up with too much blue in your painting,” advised their teacher. We continued on and then enjoyed the solitude and scenery of the Windows Primitive Loop trail.
Back on the bike, other highlights included the Garden of Eden, Balanced Rock, and Wolfe Ranch, which is located at the trailhead that leads to the famous Delicate Arch featured on Utah license plates.
On a cloudy 62-degree morning, we followed U.S. Route 191 south out of Moab and made our way to La Sal Loop Road, a winding paved route that climbs up into the La Sal Mountains. The temperature dropped and it began to rain, but luckily the road turned away from the storm.
“Are you warm enough?” I asked Nicole, and when she answered in the affirmative, we pressed on. Just beyond the parking area for Mill Creek, we turned right onto Forest Road 076 toward Oowah Lake. This bumpy, rutted dirt road challenged me with sharp corners, steep climbs, and wandering bovines, but we were rewarded with the fall colors of the aspens.
We continued our counterclockwise ride on La Sal Loop Road. We stopped at La Sal Lookout Point, which provides sweeping views of Castle Valley and red rock formations that look like the inspiration for the old cartoons with the Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote. A steep descent with multiple switchbacks took us down to the warmer air of the valley floor. At State Route 128, we turned left (west) and followed the Colorado River on our way back to Moab.
With so much great riding and scenery, we were reluctant to leave, but our allocated vacation time was coming to an end, so we packed up and headed home. Southern Utah is a stunning part of the country that should be on everyone’s must-see, must-ride list.
Rider magazine is inviting its readers to join Editor-in-Chief Greg Drevenstedt on the Adriatic Moto Tours Western Alps Adventure tour, July 8-16, 2023. Summer is right around the corner, so sign up soon!
This nine-day tour – which includes travel days on each end, six riding days, and a rest day – will explore the high passes and scenic backroads of the Western Alps in Italy, Switzerland, and France.
Based in Slovenia, Adriatic Moto Tours has been providing guided and self-guided motorcycle tours and motorcycle rentals in Europe for 18 years. With a passion for quality and adventure, AMT is in the business of creating memories, establishing friendships, and planning exciting vacations for loyal clients.
“There’s always a route waiting to be explored and character to be tested. Whether it’s riding the Alps, exploring the Balkans, indulging in Italy or taking in the Mediterranean vistas, we are here to make it happen!”
The Western Alps Adventure will take you right into the heart of the Swiss and French Alps, revealing more than just the exhilarating high alpine passes. Tune in!
From Milan, you will go through picturesque Switzerland to the stunning French Alps, experiencing all the main passes along the route. The narrow track of Swiss Furka Pass, the panoramic Col de la Bonette in France, and the highest paved pass in the Alps, Col de L’Iseran, will bring on the adrenaline rush, while sinuous roads will take you farther into less traveled parts of France.
Riding mountain ranges such as Chartreuse, putting your vertigo to a test on the Combe Laval balcony road, and admiring numerous French lakes along the way are just some of the gems you can look forward to on this unique journey. You are invited to join the ride and pick your own favorite moment to be remembered.
Welcome to Milan, the fashion capital of the world! AMT will meet you at the Malpensa airport and take you to your hotel on the outskirts of Milan, near the airport. Depending on when you arrive, you’ll have some time to relax and rest or do some sightseeing before the tour briefing. At 4 p.m., the group meet for the introductory briefing and in the evening enjoy a welcome dinner at a classic Italian Trattoria.
Day 2: Milan – Grimsel Pass
Leaving the flat city area, you will head north, immersing yourself in the beautiful scenery of the Alps. Passing Lake Como, riders will cross into Switzerland, conquering the famous Novena, Furka, and Susten passes and spending the night under the stars, right on the top of the Grimsel Pass.
Day 3: Grimsel Pass – Evian
From the Grimsel Pass, the tour will descend into the valley, passing Lake Brienz and stopping in Unterseen, Interlaken’s Old Town, before continuing into the Swiss rolling hills. Sweeping and curvy roads will carry you over Jaunpass and past Gruyères for a quick cheese tasting and a castle photo, and then spend the night at Évian-les-Bains, the French seaside resort on Lake Geneva.
Day 4: Evian – Vercors
Leaving the spa town of Évian-les-Bains, riders will head to Annecy, also called the “Alpine Venice,” to enjoy a stroll along the canals, before climbing up into the mountains again to ride through and over the Bauges and Chartreuse mountain ranges, following endless sweepers and diving in and out of the forests. You’ll end the day in a small village, high up in the heart of the Vercors Masiff.
Day 5: Vercors – Embrun
The famous road Combe Laval, will test your vertigo as you ride the narrow cliffside road carved into rock, staring down on Provence in the background. Descending into the valley, spend the night at the edge of the biggest artificial lake in Europe, Serre-Ponçon.
Day 6: Embrun rest day
This day will be spent beneath the peaks of the Hautes Alpes. You will have the choice of doing a nice ride around the lake of Serre-Poncon or exploring passes like Col de la Bonnette and Col de Vars. Should you prefer to spend your day off the bike, you will have plenty of options for leisure time in the environs of a magical castle.
Day 7: Embrun – Chamonix
An exhilarating ride awaits! After riding up Col d’Izoard, the group will make a short stop in the medieval town of Briancon. From here, you’ll experience rollercoaster riding in and out of Italy and France, alongside crystalline lakes and scenic views – not to mention the highlight of the day: climbing the highest paved pass of the Alps, Col de L’Iseran, before settling for the night in Chamonix.
Day 8: Chamonix – Milan
Before saying goodbye to Chamonix, the group will take the cable car to The Aiguille du Midi in the shadow of the majestic Mont Blanc. Then riders will go over the Great St. Bernard Pass on the way back to Italy. Expect a very scenic ride, with the mighty Alps staring down at you from every corner, while slowly descending to the valley and back to the starting point in Milan.
Day 9 Milan departure
Depending on the time of your flight back home, you may have time to stroll downtown Milan and walk on the roof of the famous Milan cathedral, which took nearly six centuries to complete and is the largest in the Italian state territory.
Pricing starts at 3,840 euros (approx. USD $4,210) for a single rider sharing a double-occupancy room on a Yamaha MT-07, Suzuki V-Strom 650, or BMW G 310 R. See website for pricing for single-occupancy room and other motorcycles.
Western Alps Adventure includes:
Late model motorcycle with lockable hard luggage and tank bags plus a third-party liability insurance and comprehensive vehicle insurance.
Experienced guide on a motorcycle. Support van for luggage, souvenir purchases and one or two passengers.
Eight nights’ accommodation in quality, mostly four-star hotels.
Eight complete buffet breakfasts in the hotel.
Seven dinners, mostly in traditional local restaurants.
Airport transfers up to five days prior to the tour start, on the last day of the tour and one day after the tour.
All maps with marked routes for the region being toured.
Extensive tour booklet.
GPS with all the routes uploaded.
Not included in the price: Air ticket, dinners on rest days, most lunches, drinks, gasoline, tolls, personal spending, and tips.
Tour cancellation insurance: more information HERE.
Rider magazine is inviting its readers to join contributing editor Scott A. Williams on the IMTBike Essence of Northern Spain Motorcycle Tour, taking place from Sept. 9-17, 2023, and offering riders a rich blend of spectacular and unforgettable landscapes and encounters with ancient cultures.
Based in Madrid, IMTBike specializes in tours of the Iberian Peninsula (Spain and Portugal), but it also offers tours in France, Italy, the Alps, and Morocco, as well as MotoGP tours (Catalunya, Jerez, and Valencia) and tours in Turkey, Thailand, Japan, and New Zealand. In 2021, IMTBike earned a coveted Tripadvisor Travelers’ Choice Best of the Best award. In 2022, IMTBike celebrated its 25th anniversary, and Rider EIC Greg Drevenstedt, and his wife, Carrie, helped celebrate by taking the Southern Spain Andalusia tour.
The IMTBike Essence of Northern Spain Motorcycle Tour should be just as amazing. IMTBike says the tour, which is nine days total (including two travel days and one rest day), will combine “all the wonderful aromas that one expects to find in the North of Spain; from the salty azure waters of the Cantabrian Sea along the Costa Verde, to the pristine fields of verdant grass of the Basque Valleys and the crisp air of the majestic mountains of Asturias’s Picos de Europa.”
The tour will start and end in Bilbao, a former shipbuilding town that is now famous for Frank Gehry’s Guggenheim Museum and Jeff Koon’s “Puppy” sculpture. The tour will lead through the northern regions of Spain – the Basque Country, Cantabria, Castilla-León, and Asturias – on a route through small picturesque fishing villages and charming lost hamlets in the most remote mountain regions of Spain. You will visit fascinating cities such as the capitals of Asturias and the Basque Country, Oviedo, and Vitoria.
On Day 1 (or earlier, depending on your country of origin), arrive in Bilbao and take the day to explore the city. The group will meet for dinner and prepare for the journey, which begins on Day 2, when riders will enter the easternmost Cantabrian Mountains. You will ride little-known mountain roads surrounded by incredible greenery on the way to the magnificently preserved medieval town of Santillana del Mar.
Day 3 goes through the Picos de Europa mountain range, which stands out because of both the height of the mountains and their proximity to the ocean. You will visit the beautiful beaches and cliffs of the Green Coast (Costa Verde). We’ll dive into the heart of the immense Picos de Europa Mountains where you can take a cable car to the summit and ride through the narrow canyons that surround the massif.
The Day 4 destination is the Asturian capital, Oviedo. On the way, riders will visit some of the most photographed fishing villages on the Asturian coast and go along some of the most interesting local roads that run through the green mountains of eastern Asturias.
Take a rest day to explore the elegant city of Oviedo on foot, or there will be a ride to visit the western Asturian coast and the picturesque fishing village of Cudillero. IMTBike has prepared “a nice curvy route to get there.”
On Day 6, the route will start heading back to the eastern part of Northern Spain, crossing Asturias through its mining region. These mountains are full of natural resources below ground and perfect motorcycling roads above. You’ll spend the day immersed in captivating natural landscapes and cross several mountain passes before arriving in Castilla-León’s lake country at the foot of the Picos de Europa.
Day 7 takes riders to the charming Basque capital of Vitoria, passing through several mountain ranges, valleys, and beautiful remote areas, as well as a few natural parks east of the Picos de Europa and the Cantabrian Mountains before finally setting foot again in Euskadi (Basque Country).
The final riding day will be a beautiful route that crosses the entire Basque Country from south to north on the way back to Bilbao. After several mountain passes, you’ll arrive at the coast and then ride local roads that pass through authentic fishing villages while experiencing the wild landscapes of this coastline.
If you’re looking for curve-filled roads, verdant mountains, azure ocean water plus delicious gastronomy, charming cities and incredible hotels all wrapped up into a weeklong getaway, then this Essence of Northern Spain Tour has been custom made for you!
IMTBike Essence of Northern Spain Motorcycle Tour daily itinerary:
Day 1: Arrival Bilbao
Day 2: Bilbao – Santillana del Mar
Day 3: Santillana del Mar – Picos de Europa
Day 4: Picos de Europa – Oviedo
Day 5: Oviedo – rest day
Day 6: Oviedo – Palentine Mountains
Day 7: Palentine Mountains – Vitoria
Day 8: Vitoria – Bilbao
Day 9: Flight back home
Pricing starts at $3,990 per person, including a BMW G 310 R motorcycle rental for a rider in a double room (see below for what’s included in the price). See the Essence of Northern Spain tour webpage for tiered pricing for different motorcycle models as well as pricing for a passenger and a single room supplement.
IMTBike Essence of Northern Spain Motorcycle Tour included services:
Airport pickup on the first day of the tour
Overnight accommodations in high quality hotels
A gourmet evening meal every night (except on rest days)
Complete buffet breakfast every morning
New model BMW motorcycle fully equipped with three BMW cases
Tour handbook (normally about 70 pages-very comprehensive) and highlighted map
Expert multilingual guide on a motorcycle
Multilingual guide in support vehicle which will carry your luggage, any oversized purchases you make; or even a passenger or two
Tour souvenirs
Services not included:
Air ticket, lunches, gasoline, drinks, tolls, personal spending, and tips
A good ride doesn’t have to be a long one. With only $10’s worth of gas, I set out to see how much fun I could have cruising around close to home on a New Jersey and New York motorcycle ride, and I was not disappointed.
It was a beautiful spring day with low humidity and temperatures in the 70s. I went out to the garage to warm up my 1990 BMW K 75, a bike known as the “Flying Brick.” Adding a little throttle as it idled, the BMW sang its familiar run run run run. I’ve owned it for 32 years, and with 28,000 miles on the clock, it’s barely broken in.
With its 750cc inline-Triple, waterproof saddlebags, and a cafe windscreen, some motorcycle reviews called the K 75 the perfect bike. It can take you around the corner for a quart of milk or around the world. I gassed her up, getting only a couple gallons for my $10. The gas station attendant admired the BMW’s silver paint and blue pinstripes and asked if it was new. I told him it was almost twice as old as he was.
The days of the 1,000-mile weekend trip are over for me. Most of my motorcycle jaunts these days, whether alone or with friends, are designed around breakfast, lunch, and a late afternoon snack.
From my home in Ramsey, New Jersey, it was a quick ride north on State Route 17 to Auntie El’s Farm Market in Sloatsburg, New York. At one time just a small shack with plants in summer and Christmas trees in winter, it’s now half a block long and sells plants, garden art, and fresh fruit and vegetables. But for me, it’s all about Auntie El’s bakery, which serves up freshly baked pastries, pies, and cookies. I enjoyed a warm apple turnover with coffee.
Next, I veered west on Sterling Mine Road, curved my way back into New Jersey, and rode past Ringwood Manor, a 724-acre park with rolling hills and a babbling brook. A slow ride through the park is usually a nice diversion, but on this trip I kept going and turned onto Margaret King Avenue. A few miles later, I turned west onto Greenwood Lake Turnpike and crossed over the Monksville Reservoir, which provides water for northern New Jersey and recreation for kayakers, paddleboarders, and anglers.
It was not quite 9 a.m., and the lake shimmered in the morning light. Anglers were out trying their luck. I slipped into the parking lot with my K 75 making about as much noise as a sewing machine – even the geese on the shoreline were unperturbed. Walking out on the dock provided a taste of the natural beauty that’s so close to home.
Continuing on Greenwood Lake Turnpike took me to its namesake body of water, which is a narrow 7-mile lake that straddles the border of New York and New Jersey. From the turnpike I could see boats bobbing in the water at South Shore Marina, where years ago I kept “Dumb Idea,” my 19-foot day sailer. Anyone who has owned a boat will understand the name. The road, which becomes Warwick Turnpike, was all mine as I curved a large arc around Upper Greenwood Lake.
My next stop was Wawayanda State Park, a wonderful 34,350-acre preserve with 60 miles of trails and a beautiful spring-fed lake with a wide swimming beach, a boat launch, and kayak rentals. It’s a great place to take a short break and enjoy the sun sparkling on the lake. I was only burning $10’s worth of gas, so there was no need to rush.
I crossed back into New York, turned west onto Route 94, then north onto Sanfordville Road. Turning west on Pine Island Turnpike took me to Pine Island, an area famous for its onion farms and some of the blackest dirt you’ve ever seen. After a quick stop in town, where there’s a great restaurant called The Jolly Onion, I backtracked on the turnpike and turned north on Little York Road, a small country road with views of the fields and small tidy houses in dappled sunlight. I stopped at the Warwick Valley Winery & Distillery, which has a cafe, picnic tables, and acres of land. As I strolled the grounds, I admired the blooming roses and made a note to return for a longer visit.
Continuing east on Pine Island Turnpike, I turned east at West Street and rode into the heart of Warwick, a charming town full of cafes and restaurants. There’s free parking in a large public lot right off Main Street. I sought out a power outlet to recharge my phone and had a slice of pizza while I waited.
Farther down Main Street at the far end of town is a large public park with benches under towering oak trees, providing shade that complemented the spring breeze. On a little hill is the Old School Baptist Meeting House, a majestic white church built in 1810. It’s now maintained by the Warwick Historical Society, and I enjoyed a quick tour.
I left Warwick by riding south on Oakland Avenue (Route 94) and then turning east on Galloway Road (State Route 17A). A left turn on Kain Road took me to Bellvale Farms Creamery, which looks like a Norman Rockwell painting of a farmhouse and has an expansive view of a valley full of farms. It also serves delicious ice cream, but I didn’t want to spoil my appetite.
One of my favorite stops for breakfast or lunch is The Village Buzz Cafe, which is in the heart of the Village of Greenwood Lake on Windermere Avenue just off Route 17A. The cafe serves up hometown cooking with welcoming smiles all around, and its menu includes all-day breakfast, sandwiches, and sweets. Their handcut home-fried potatoes with onions alone are worth a stop. Out front there’s a chalkboard with positive affirmations written in different colors, and they reminded me of how lucky I was to be up on two wheels on a gorgeous day.
By the time I returned home, I’d only ridden 89 miles, but the $10 I spent was a bargain for a great day of exploring hills, lakes, and curves.
Inspiration for a motorcycle trip can come from many avenues – perhaps by word of mouth about legendary riding destinations like the Tail of the Dragon or seeing iconic locations like national parks on television or in movies. Inspiration for this West Virginia motorcycle trip – including riding part of the Midland Trail – was internal; I wanted to challenge myself and get out of my comfort zone. But before I departed, I felt anxious.
Why the Hesitation to Take a West Virginia Motorcycle Trip?
I had been on previous solo moto camping trips, but a trip to central West Virginia from my home in northern Kentucky would be my longest trip, the farthest from home, and in a state I had never ridden. Doubts and insecurities were plaguing me, as I was still relatively new to motorcycle camping and riding long distances. I had also been raised in a town where women didn’t travel alone, and certainly not on a motorcycle. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was getting myself in over my head with a trip this ambitious.
While I yearned to travel to the New River Gorge area and ride the Midland Trail along U.S. Route 60, fear was holding me back. That is, until my husband encouragingly asked me, “You really want to go, don’t you?” When my answer was a sincere and wholehearted “Yes,” it was clear to both of us what I needed to do.
I decided to go the next weekend – I practically had the whole route planned already anyway – and began packing.
After heading out from my house in northern Kentucky with a full pack on my Kawasaki Versys-X 300, my first stop was Maysville, Kentucky. I wasn’t expecting the quaint, darling downtown with perfectly painted old brick buildings and well-maintained streets. Nor was I expecting the restaurant I chose online to be temporarily closed. Struggling to balance my helmet and gear while I looked for another restaurant on my phone, a man approached me with his small dog and asked if I needed help.
After telling him of my plight, he eagerly offered to show me to “the best restaurant in Maysville” and escorted me down the street a couple of blocks, sharing history about the town as the three of us strolled. Delite’s Downtown had an antique sign befitting the diner’s ’60s-era interior decor, and you could tell it was all original. I ordered biscuits and gravy – a road trip favorite of mine – and while I couldn’t judge if it was indeed the best restaurant in town, I left satisfied.
A Sign from Strangers
After a few hours of riding with only a stop for gas, I was relieved to arrive at a German restaurant in Huntington, West Virginia, called Bahnhof WVrsthaus & Biergarten. Stretching my legs as I walked into the restaurant, I was enthralled with the indoor/outdoor multiple-story dining area and the atmosphere of the place. I ordered the currywurst topped with a sweet raisin chutney and a side of buttery herbed spaetzle.
The food was delicious, but the real star of the experience was a rowdy group of men and a woman sitting at the bar. Their lively exchanges were impossible not to overhear, and they soon struck up a conversation with me.
They asked the usual questions – “Where are you from?” and “Where are you going?” – and when they heard I was headed to New River Gorge, they yelled out in unison, “Fayetteville!” All three began talking at the same time, gushing over the food, drinks, views, and roads in that area. I was able to make out “Kanawha Falls” and “Gauley Bridge,” two places I planned on visiting, as well as “hairpin turns” – that’s all I needed to hear. I felt a rush of encouragement, having received a clear sign that I was headed in the right direction for a great trip.
Riding the Midland Trail
As I left Charleston, I was right where I wanted to be – at the mouth of U.S. Route 60, also known as the Midland Trail National Scenic Byway. Route 60 runs from Kenova, near the Kentucky border, clear across West Virginia and east to the Virginia border. Offering a mix of mountain terrain, low-speed cruising through small towns, and rolling countryside, it’s a favorite motorcycle ride in West Virginia.
The route started out with easy, flowing curves, but once in the mountains, it was exhilarating hairpin after thrilling switchback for miles on end. After scraping my peg on a decreasing-radius right turn, I put more care into my body positioning and slowed it down a little. The turns rivaled some of my favorite curvy roads in the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.
Pulling up to my campground at Babcock State Park, I was welcomed with a clean, pretty campsite not far from the bathhouse and some perfect trees from which to hang my hammock. I was exhausted after a full day of riding – the most miles I had ever ridden in one day – and it showed. I struggled to set up camp and prepare some dehydrated food for dinner. Fatigue is a serious concern on motorcycle trips, and I was relieved that I was safely at my home away from home.
An Ethereal Glow and a Famous Bridge
Waking up to a lovely view of my bike from my open tent, I was looking forward to eating some real food. I made my first stop at the Cathedral Cafe & Book Store in Fayetteville. A converted old church, it still has the gorgeous stained-glass windows intact, which glowed ethereal colors on the inside with the sunlight shining through. A breakfast of croissant French toast and locally made chorizo hit the spot, and I was ready to hit the hiking trails.
I hadn’t done much planning in terms of the trails I wanted to hike, so I stopped at the New River Gorge National Park & Preserve Welcome Center. It has an overlook of the New River Gorge Bridge, so I unexpectedly caught my first glimpse of its expansive form. Once inside the building, the friendly state park ranger suggested I head to Long Point Trail for the best view of the bridge, so I set out with their map, kindly marked up with my route.
The Long Point Trail was a fine, moderately difficult hike, but the magic was at the top of the overlook. Sheer cliffs dropped off dramatically on all sides, while miles of forest extended out into the distance. The woods were only interrupted by the 3,030-foot-long, 876-foot-high New River Gorge Bridge, at one time the highest bridge in the country and still the highest east of the Mississippi. I once stood on the top of the 75-foot-tall Natural Bridge at the Red River Gorge in Kentucky, but this was even more magnificent.
There were two unspoken rules at the top: First, you take a picture for the next person in line on the edge of the cliff in front of the bridge, and second, no one puts anyone else in danger. When visiting treacherous natural wonders, I’m always amazed that people have so much trust in everyone around them – and themselves – to not fall off. After the photo exchange, I sat down on a rock near one side of the cliff and enjoyed a leisurely bagged lunch.
More Exploration on My West Virginia Motorcycle Trip
Before heading to the attractions recommended to me the day before, I crossed the New River Gorge Bridge. I was able to steal some glances over the guardrail of the four-lane highway and was rewarded with views of the forest stretching as far as I could see and the winding New River hundreds of feet below me.
Back on Route 60, I saw the sign for Kanawha Falls and pulled off. It is an impressively wide waterfall, as it spans the entire width of the Kanawha River. The viewing area is a bit far from the falls, so I felt disconnected from the powerful water. Cathedral Falls, just down the road, is much closer to the viewing area and is staggeringly tall, but the parking lot was so busy that I couldn’t pull over to get a closer look; I only caught glimpses as I rode past. Gauley Bridge also ran right alongside the road but was a little lackluster after viewing the New River Gorge Bridge.
It was getting late in the day, and I still wanted to visit Lewisburg. I left Gauley Bridge and headed out, feeling some anxiety about making it back to my campsite before nightfall. I was not looking forward to traversing mountainous roadways after dark, but I pressed on nonetheless.
Another rider on a large adventure bike, loaded down with hard cases, turned onto Route 60 behind me. It was fun to ride “together” for the rest of the way to Lewisburg. I zipped around curves through gorgeous scenery with this unknown motorcycle tourer. When I pulled into a parking spot just inside Lewisburg’s downtown strip, he gave me a wave over his shoulder as he passed. There’s nothing like the camaraderie of a fellow rider, especially when they’re also clearly on their own unique adventure.
After eating an overpriced (but still delicious) plate of lasagna at The Humble Tomato, an upscale-but-casual Italian restaurant right on the strip, I decided to walk downtown for a bit before heading back. I stopped in the Lewisburg Welcome Center to see if they had any worthy souvenirs and was greeted by a friendly older man. He was shocked, as many people are, to find a young woman on a solo motorcycle trip, and he had plenty of questions. After I purchased a few stickers, he began fumbling around the cash register and counter, mumbling that he had something special for me.
After a few awkward minutes, he finally found what he was looking for – a Route 39 pin and coin – and handed them over proudly. “I give these to all the Harley guys,” he said with a chuckle. I pocketed the trinkets, a little embarrassed as I hadn’t actually ridden Route 39 on my trip but thanked him nevertheless. Then I saddled up and headed back to my campsite at Babcock State Park.
A Unique Blend of Scenery
Having been distracted earlier by my adventure rider buddy on the way to Lewisburg, I had zipped past the beauty of the countryside along that section of the Midland Trail. On my return ride, it was the magical “golden hour,” and the scenery was lit with a warm glow. It was like a charming blend of scenery back home – the green rolling hills of eastern Kentucky rural farmland punctuated with the mountainous terrain and sharp corners of the Great Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.
Riding on the gentle slopes and curves of hills as green as a jewel, I could see Appalachian ridges seemingly on all sides. Peaks would loom straight ahead in the distance, growing closer and closer until I was on them, climbing switchbacks, only to descend minutes later and then do it again. It was a dream ride.
Returning Home from My West Virginia Motorcycle Trip
After a pleasant night at my campsite sitting by a roaring fire, I woke up and began grudgingly preparing for my return home. There was so much I didn’t get a chance to see.
I hopped on the highway for a quicker return trip, and while I wasn’t planning on stopping in Charleston, the view of the 23-karat gold-leaf gilded top of the Capitol, with a dome 5 feet higher than the U.S. Capitol, lured me in.
My last stop was the Griffith & Feil Drug and Soda Fountain in Kenova, West Virginia, literally the last exit before the Kentucky border. I enjoyed the bright and colorful neon lights inside and ordered a root beer float – the absolute best I’ve ever had, with unbelievably creamy vanilla ice cream and fizzy, sweet-and-spicy soda.
Plans for the Future
While returning my wallet to my motorcycle jacket after paying for my treat, my fingers brushed against a metal object – the Route 39 coin the kind man in Lewisburg had given me the day before. Not only had I survived the trip I had been nervous about taking in the first place, I had also proven myself to be a capable motorcycle camper and tourer. Proud of my accomplishments, I pocketed the metal coin, thinking to myself, “I’ll come back to ride this mysterious Route 39.”
I gathered up my things, excited at the prospect of arriving home after a successful solo journey. I was also looking forward to planning my next trip to West Virginia, inspired by a simple gift from a stranger – something I wouldn’t have received had I not taken that leap and just rode.
Retirement is underrated, which I discovered both too soon and too late. Fifteen years ago, my employer of 36 years eased me out their door. “If you can’t climb stairs,” they told me, “then you can’t work here.” I don’t like to use the word “handicapped,” but that’s what they called it. It’s actually muscular dystrophy, and I’ve lived with it since my 30s. After they let me go, I didn’t dwell on it, but what life held next was a mystery. I was looking for something to do when my buddy Scott suggested going to the Sturgis Rally. I thought, Why not? There would be 12 of us total, including a few wives and girlfriends riding pillion. They were all on Harleys; I was the only dissenter on my BMW R 1150 RT.
From my place in Zanesville, Ohio, Sturgis is roughly 1,700 miles away, so I estimated the trip would take two days. We started on U.S. Route 40, a few miles from my home, and I knew after the first 5 miles it wasn’t going to be much fun. We were going 80 mph one minute, 60 the next, stopping every 75 miles to gas up, puff down two cigarettes, then talk for 20 minutes about the guy in the group who failed to use his turnsignal.
We rode for several hours this way. In Illinois, we ran into a light rain, with Scott and me bringing up the rear. I’ve ridden with friends forever, and we never rode side-by-side. Scott and I watched the bikes, riding tandem at 80 mph (then 60), waiting for a mistake that would surely bring the others down.
We got to Iowa City midafternoon. I thought we were stopping for gas (again), but no, they were already looking for a motel! There were still at least five more good hours of daylight. I’d had enough. “Hey guys, I’ll see you there,” I said and left.
Several hours later, I found a mom-and-pop campground west of Des Moines. Even though the sign said “NO Vacancy,” I spotted a grassy area out back in a corner, nearly surrounded by corn, and the proprietors let me have it for half price. I went out for a ham-and-Swiss sub and a six-pack and rode back to my home for the night. I’d ridden 600 miles – not bad – and was ready for a beer.
There were land yachts all over and kids throwing a ball around. One of them saw me and walked over, followed by five or six others. “Hi, where ya from?” they asked. My bike was a kid magnet.
We chatted while I pitched my tent, hoping no one would be offended if I sipped a beer. When I mentioned that the site could use a picnic table, they scrambled off, and I saw them talking to a group of grownups. Four of the dads got together and grabbed an extra table, each holding a corner with one hand and a brew in the other. Suddenly I had my own personal dining table in front of my tent. I felt right at home. The day was ending a lot better than it had started. That’s life on the road on a good day, but aren’t they all good days?
I called Scott that night. He told me he had wanted to join me, but he was riding his brother’s Harley, so his brother called the shots. He said there was only one room with a single bed available at their motel. Eleven people in one bedroom! I thanked my lucky stars. Staying in a room with only one toilet, packed so close you could smell each other’s feet, drinking in the lounge with rows of quarters already on the pool table, sliding a $5 bill across the bar for a beer and getting 50 cents back. Sorry, not for me.
After my new friends left, I sat at my picnic table until 1 a.m. I’d set up my tent facing the interstate and was mesmerized by traffic racing by, streaks of white light in one direction, red in the other, vehicles of all kinds. Sitting alone, soaking all this in, was like a lullaby. It was maybe the best night in a tent I’ve ever experienced. I slept like a baby.
The next day, I raced west to Nebraska. I made a gas stop and decided to call my cousin Matt, who was driving to Sturgis, hauling his homemade camper/trailer complete with a kitchenette with water, a bed, and clamps on the floor to secure motorcycles. After some conversation about our respective locations, I realized I should have turned north at Des Moines and was on the wrong interstate. What to do? I don’t carry maps, so I kept riding west, figuring there would be a highway north somewhere.
I rode to North Platte, then went north on U.S. Route 83 until I saw a sign for Interstate 90. I could taste Sturgis, now only an hour away. I felt late for the party I’d been racing to get to.
When I hit Sturgis, I peeked at my odometer. I’d ridden 954 miles! I wanted to head out again to ride another 46 miles, but it wouldn’t have mattered to anyone but me, and I was parched. It was just Matt and me at the campsite. My friends, on bikes with gas tanks too small, didn’t arrive until the next day.
Over the next two days, we rode all around the area, hitting the Badlands first. It was amazing, like another planet. Scott had never been out of Ohio before. His brother and Matt knew of a bar just beyond the Badlands. It turned out to be a dump of the first order with a dirt floor and no restroom; you just walked out back and let it flow – girls too. I definitely wasn’t in Ohio anymore. At least the beer was cold!
The next day we rode to Spearfish for a burnout contest. Matt entered his Harley and put on a great show – so much smoke you could barely see him. Everyone thought he was the favorite, but the last entry was a topless lady. She won.
After Spearfish, we went to see Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Memorial, and finally to the Needles in Custer State Park. It was beautiful country, but I’d seen enough. This was a Harley universe, not mine. It was time for me to go. I asked Scott to come along with me, but he was leashed to his brother and declined again. That was okay. I was used to riding alone – nearly all my past riding friends had either died or moved to Florida.
I was out the next day at first light, unaware that the best five days of my riding life were in front of me. I rode west to Devils Tower, then north. My ride was untarnished, racing along, a world away from Ohio. I ended the day in Custer, Montana, at a great mom-and-pop campground. I pitched my tent and eased into the evening with a chilled six-pack. Seeing the Milky Way brought me back to my childhood. Never having been to the area, everything felt both so real and so unreal. The air felt different, and the smells were spectacular.
The next day, I rode east on U.S. Route 2, to this day my favorite road, wide and straight, with fields of wild sunflowers. The 75-mph speed limit meant I could go as fast as I wanted.
I made it to Ross, North Dakota, a small town with a train terminal and several sets of tracks. I found a campsite, pitched my tent, and went looking for beer and a sandwich. I’ve camped at some very nice places, but I’ll remember this one forever because of the trains. In Ohio, I had only seen trains that were a few cars hauling coal, but these trains, with four engines pulling 200 cars, seemed a mile long. The tracks were maybe 500 yards away, and one train would come right after another, each one making its own unique sound, some with squeaky wheels, others with wheels that pounded the track like they were square. I sat at the picnic table until midnight, and to this day, I can still hear the sounds of all those trains.
The next morning, I called Scott. He wasn’t with his Harley group. He had been complaining about noise coming from the rear wheel of the Harley he was riding, which turned out to be a bearing. It let loose, the wheel locking for just a second, with the tire terminally resting against the swingarm. The Harley bit the dust. He was alone, and no one came back looking for him. His brother and the group simply abandoned him. There was, however, a friendly fellow nearby, and Scott spent a few hours drinking free beer on his front porch. Luckily, he had Matt’s phone number. Matt came to the rescue and loaded the broken bike in his camper.
The next morning, I left at first light, still riding east on Route 2. I rode at my own pace. Not many people live that far north, probably because of the brutal winters. I passed through towns about every 20 miles – no stop lights, just reduced speed limits. The sideroad signs with white numbering meant gravel; those printed with blue meant the roads were paved. White ones were more common, seemingly 10 to 1.
Over the next two days, I passed through Minnesota, then Wisconsin. Lake Michigan is simply mesmerizing. Every few miles, I spotted a shanty and slowed to see what they were selling. One spot had fresh smoked fish. I never pass on seafood, so I bought two pounds of smoked trout and continued down Route 2 to a very nice campground.
The final day of my trip, I crossed the Mackinac Bridge connecting the Upper and Lower peninsulas of Michigan. I had been warned about the bridge, specifically the mesh steel surface which can lead to motorcycle tire wandering – more than a little unnerving. But one lane was paved.
When I hit Interstate 75, it started raining. But it was warm, so I didn’t bother to put on my rainsuit. I needed a shower anyway. When I hit Detroit, I was surprised by how clean and orderly the city appeared, contrary to the image I had of it being dirty and smoky. Also, there were never less than five lanes of roadway, so I cruised right through. Every big city should do it so well.
In Ohio, I got on U.S. Route 30, four lanes racing through miles of corn and soybeans, then I rode south on State Route 13 on my way home.
I made it home just before dark, our three dogs yapping up a storm. I settled in as my wife made me dinner, and in the shower, the water that dripped off me was cloudy with dirt. I was done, home after nine days and 4,800 miles. That night in bed, I cried, thinking it was probably my last long motorcycle ride. And it was.
Because of the muscular dystrophy, I had been having difficulty with my legs during the trip and was happy that I didn’t drop my bike or fall down. My brother Bill lives a similar life – our mother did too when she was still with us. Back then, my MD was an inconvenience. Now it’s a nuisance, controlling every part of my day.
But after Sturgis, I didn’t stop riding. I had two more motorcycles to wear out, saving the best for last. With my failing health, when I could no longer support myself on two wheels, I moved to three. My last bike was a Can-Am Spyder RT, which I dearly loved. In six years, I rode that bike 188,510 miles – until I couldn’t.
My mobility may have been stymied, but not my mind. I have more than enough memories to fill another lifetime. When I close my eyes, I can be anywhere, always picturing myself on one of my old bikes. When I slip out to my garage for a quick beer or two, I’m surrounded by reminders of my lifetime on two wheels, then three. On the wall are about 20 of my old license plates. Some aren’t especially notable, but there are a few that, if you ask me about them, I’ll talk to you for hours, many of my tales going back to the six or seven or eight special bikes I’ve owned.
There are also two sets of pistons – one from a Gold Wing, the other from an ’83 Honda CB1100F – and posters of concerts I’ve ridden to. There’s a drum skin I caught at a Scorpions concert after drummer James Kottak signed it and threw it into the crowd. And my tools are spread out everywhere from the days when wrenching on my bikes was a favorite pastime. On one of the walls is a newspaper clipping of a story by my brother Ken when he was on assignment covering the Indy 500. One of his pictures shows me, shirtless, leaning back on my cycle, soaking up the sun. He didn’t even realize that I was in his shot until later.
My first 12 years of retirement were nearly perfect; the last three, not so much. Still, I see my glass as being half full. My most recent set of wheels is a powered wheelchair, and I can still get around in my custom golf cart. I sold my Spyder to Ken. He still calls it “Chuck’s bike.” I see it often when he stops by, giving me my needed motorcycling fix. It still looks new. To me it always will.
After decades of riding almost nonstop, with well over a million miles on my motorcycles, the one thing I’ve learned is: Never take tomorrow for granted. Live for today. Always, ride on.
Edelweiss Bike Travel, a worldwide leader in motorcycle tours and travel since 1980, has organized an exclusive tour for Rider magazine. Join one of Rider’s editors on the Unknown Italy Tour, which reveals the secrets of the Appenines, the chain of mountains that runs down the spine of the boot-shaped country.
The 12-day vacation, which runs from Oct. 9-20, 2023, includes travel days on each end, seven riding days, and three rest days (which can also be spent riding!).
The tour begins in Florence, the capital city of the Tuscany region that’s world-renowned for its food, wine, and Renaissance art and architecture. Arrive a couple days early to allow time to visit the iconic Duomo, Michelangelo’s David sculpture, Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus,” and da Vinci’s “Annunciation.” You’ll also want to stroll the historic streets and enjoy a gelato!
For the first two riding days, we’ll ride on twisty, lesser-known roads through the Appenines to Perugia, the capital city of Umbria that’s known for its defensive walls around a historic city center, and then it’s on to Santo Stefano di Sessanio, a medieval town located within the Gran Sasso e Monti della Laga National Park, where we’ll spend a rest day.
Next, we’ll continue riding south to spend a night in the small village of Serre di Conca, and then we’ll make our way to the legendary Amalfi Coast that overlooks the Tyrrhenian Sea and the Gulf of Salerno. A popular holiday destination, the Amalfi Coast is known for sheer cliffs, secluded beaches, and pastel-colored fishing villages.
From the Amalfi Coast, we’ll explore more backroads on our way to the mountain village of Morano Calabro, which is located near a 3,600-foot pass. For the third and final rest day, we’ll ride to Matera, the European Capital of Culture for 2019. The city is perched on a rocky outcrop in the region of Basilicata, and nearby is the Sassi area, a complex of cave dwellings carved into the mountainside.
The tour concludes in Bari, a port city on the Adriatic Sea that’s the capital of Italy’s Puglia region. Bari’s mazelike old town, known as Barivecchia, occupies a headland between two harbors.
Day 6: Serre di Conca – Costiera Amalfitana (Amalfi Coast)
Day 7: Costiera Amalfitana (Amalfi Coast) (rest day)
Day 8: Costiera Amalfitana (Amalfi Coast) – Morano Calabro
Day 9: Morano Calabro – Matera
Day 10: Matera (rest day)
Day 11: Matera – Bari
Day 12: Departure from Bari
Pricing starts at $6,250 per person, including motorcycle rental for a rider in a double room (see below for what’s included in the price). See the tour webpage for tiered pricing for different motorcycle models as well as pricing for a passenger and a single room supplement.
Join one of Rider’s editors on this unique, once-in-a-lifetime motorcycle adventure. Space is limited, so make your reservation today!
This Southeast Ohio motorcycle tour story, which highlights some of the best Ohio motorcycle roads and a stay in the historic town of Marietta on the Ohio River, first appeared in the March 2023 issue of Rider.
For riders who want to carve continual curves through forests, along rivers, and past farms, you won’t find better roads in so focused an area than in the southeast corner of Ohio. The landscape of constantly rising and falling hills results in roller coaster roads that will have you laughing with joy. The rush from blind rises, off-camber curves, and decreasing-radius corners is never-ending. Add abundant wildlife, farm vehicles, and the occasional Amish buggy to the equation and you quickly realize how crucial it is to stay laser-focused on the task at hand.
Scan the QR codes above or click here for Day 1 or here for Day 2
With the benefit of routes created and inspired by Ed Conde of New England Riders, many riders from the Northeast and Canada make the trek south to savor these roads. The small, historic city of Marietta on the bank of the Ohio River is an ideal base of operations for a tour of this region. We found multiple options for lodging, a lively downtown with a variety of great restaurants and pubs, and even a motorcycle shop that will come in handy if your tires lose tread faster than expected.
Our group of experienced sport-touring riders, including my good friends Steve Efthyvoulou, Randy Palmer, and Bob Holahan, confirmed a plan over breakfast and then began our day heading north and east of Marietta on Ohio State Route 821. Beyond Whipple, a right on Dalzell Road had us winding through forested hills. The constant elevation changes could be a cartographer’s worst nightmare, but they’re a motorcyclist’s dream come true. Our group was connected via bike-to-bike intercom, which enabled the lead rider to offer helpful warnings:
Wow, this curve tightens fast!
Watch for gravel in that right hander.
The road drops left after that blind rise … weeee!
At State Route 565, we turned right, curved past Zwick Park, then headed south on State Route 260 through Quarry and to New Matamoras. The curves were incredible! At State Route 7, we turned left toward the township of Fly, then left on State Route 800 back up into the hills. Beyond Jackson Ridge Church, we turned right on State Route 255 to Laings, then stayed on 255 back to Sardis and Route 7.
Route 7 is designated the Ohio River Scenic Byway. Scenic, yes, but it’s mostly flat and lacks challenging curves. However, it was useful for taking us to the next incredibly curvy road up into the hills: State Route 536 in Hannibal. A short diversion onto Long Ridge Road and Short Ridge Road brought us up to Kiedaisch Point Park. From there we enjoyed the vista overlooking the Hannibal Locks and the bridge crossing the Ohio River to New Martinsville, West Virginia.
With our stomachs signaling lunch, we decided to cross that bridge and found Quinet’s Restaurant. The buffet is extensive, and an impressive display of local history covers the walls of this New Martinsville institution. Appetites satisfied, we crossed back into Ohio and picked up State Route 536 all the way to State Route 78, where turning right put us on a parallel track with Sunfish Creek, which meanders and then widens before emptying into the Ohio River at Clarington. Route 7 sent us to State Route 556 where we turned to enjoy more curves all the way to Beallsville and State Route 145.
At Jerusalem, a left pointed us south on State Route 26, the National Forest Covered Bridge Scenic Byway. For most of its length, the byway parallels the Little Muskingum River, and we happened upon Rinard Covered Bridge. It’s the third covered bridge to be constructed on this location, the original dating to 1875. On these winding southeastern Ohio roads, shoulders vary from narrow to nonexistent, so this stop was noteworthy because it was a chance to pull safely off the road to shoot photographs. Continuing on Route 26 provided us miles of smiles back to Marietta.
The mental focus required to follow all these curves, coupled with the physical demands of countersteering and shifting body position on heavy sport-tourers, had us feeling tired at the end of the day. After returning to Marietta, we walked to Tampico Mexican Restaurant and rehashed a fantastic day over a relaxed meal and a pitcher of margaritas.
Your humble scribe is an early riser, so the next morning as the sky began to lighten, I set out to explore more of downtown Marietta. Reading the many historical signs, I learned that pioneers established the town in 1788 as the first permanent white settlement of the United States Territory Northwest of the River Ohio. Many original settlers were Revolutionary War officers who were offered land grants as compensation for military service. Artisans from my native New England also settled here, bringing with them skills that helped Marietta quickly become a center for shipbuilding. Between 1800 and 1812, nearly 30 ocean-going vessels were built here in eight shipyards.
Another piece of riverfront history is the place where we stayed, the Lafayette Hotel (c. 1918). Inside, the hotel’s lobby feels like a formal parlor. Realtors might describe the rooms as “quaint” and “cozy,” with the period furnishings and fixtures including styles long forgotten by interior designers. Our tidy room overlooked the Ohio River, the Highland Avenue Bridge, and lovely riverside homes on the opposite riverbank in Williamstown, West Virginia. Even the parking area for our bikes overlooked the river. Modern-day riverboats still dock at that very spot, as one did during our stay, so it’s fitting that this lodging retains the feel of the riverboat era.
After breakfast at the hotel, our group was ready for another day behind the handlebars. Since any road is different in the opposite direction, we began by reversing course on one of our favorites from the day before, Route 26. The weather was perfect, and we enjoyed glimpses of the scenery when we could divert our attention briefly from the curvaceous road. In Woodsfield, we found Ida’s Lunchbox, which other riders had recommended, and enjoyed a light lunch and conversation, while a farmer at the next table listened attentively to the agriculture report on TV.
We continued on 26 to Jerusalem, turned west on State Route 145, kept twisting southwesterly along Duck Creek to Lewisville, and then took State Route 724 west to Carlisle. A different stretch of Route 260 wound us south along East Fork Duck Creek to Harriettsville. Just past town, we turned right on State Route 564 and began to follow Middle Fork Duck Creek to Caldwell. State Route 78 took us out of town and curved to a highlight of the day: Big Muskie Bucket, the business end of one of the largest machines ever to move on land.
Big Muskie was a walking dragline designed to remove earth and uncover a coal seam that lay 180 feet below the surface. This colossal machine was electric, powered by a 13,000-volt “extension cord,” and so enormous it’s hard to wrap your brain around the scale. It was 1.5 times longer than a football field, more than 222 feet tall, and weighed 12,000 tons. The bucket, which weighs 210 tons when empty, could grab 325 tons of earth in a single “bite” and hold 220 cubic yards. In 1969, the entire Morgan High School Marching Band, nearly 50 members strong, played inside the bucket at Big Muskie’s inaugural ceremonies. By 1991, more efficient mining methods and increasingly stringent environmental regulations sidelined Big Muskie. Now the bucket is all that remains, rusting away in a park on Route 78 near Bristol.
We briefly reversed course on 78 to State Route 83 and headed south for gentler curves down to Beverly. There, a left on State Route 339 moved us into farm country and past Crooked Tree. A right on State Route 821 had us paralleling Duck Creek through Macksburg, Elba, and Warner. A right on State Route 530 delivered the day’s last dose of twisties down to Lowell, where leisurely State Route 60 returned us to Marietta.
One thing we had missed thus far was a ferry ride, so we made a quick run up Route 7 to the Sistersville Ferry, which has carried people across the Ohio River between Fly, Ohio, and Sistersville, West Virginia, for over two centuries. Several types of ferry have been used throughout the company’s history, and the one currently in use is a type none of us had seen before. Vehicles drive onto a ferry barge, which is propelled through the water by a tug. The barge is double-ended so it doesn’t have to change direction with each river crossing, but the tug needs to turn around after each landing. The tug’s bow is attached to the barge’s side via a pivoting mechanism that resembles an automotive trailer hitch. When the ferry reaches the other side, the captain simply pivots the tug 180 degrees to cross the other way. Pretty slick.
After the ferry, we made our way back to Marietta, where our dinner spot was a short stroll through Ohio Riverfront Park to Levee House Bistro for, of all things, lobster – prepared by a chef from Boston no less!
Commitments back home had us heading east the next morning, but we plan to return to this region for more great riding. To the north is State Route 555, the renowned “Triple Nickel” (see Ken Frick’s story “Riding Ohio’s Triple Nickel”). To the west are gentler curves leading to Hocking Hills State Park, where riders can enjoy some of Ohio’s best scenery and stretch their legs on short hikes. The hilly landscape is much the same on the West Virginia side of the Ohio River, with roads such as West Virginia State Route 20 from New Martinsville to Mannington and U.S. Route 250 from Mannington to Moundsville, keeping riders on their toes and making joyful noises.
If you prefer roller coaster rides that you control, a motorcyclist’s amusement park awaits you in southeastern Ohio.
As the saying goes, it’s the journey and not the destination that makes the trip. But how does one describe a destination that is as good as it gets and an even better ride? With autumn upon us, it was the best time – and maybe our last chance – for riding the Ozarks before winter.
Big Singles are a great way to travel, especially if you’re not in a hurry. That made them perfect for our trip because the route I chose demands backing off the throttle to see the sights and make the corners.
Our counterclockwise route began in Clarksville, Arkansas, riding northbound briefly on Highway 21 and then turning east on Highway 292 to connect with Highway 123, a great road that climbs into the mountains through the Ozark-St. Francis National Forest. Highway 123 follows Little Piney Creek and then Hew Creek, and there are scenic waterfalls along the way.
At Sand Gap, Highway 123 connects with Highways 7 and 16. We continued east on Highway 16, which is a pleasure to ride, with the kind of tarmac that offers confidence-inspiring traction in its many curves, even with our dual-sport tires.
At Clinton, we rode south on U.S. Route 65 and then followed Highways 92 and 16 around the south side of Greers Ferry Lake, turning north on Highway 5 near Heber Springs.
Our first day’s destination was Mountain View, a small town of 2,900 people that’s surrounded by the Ozark Mountains and close to the gorgeous White River. It’s also known as the “Folk Music Capital of the World.” During the summer months, folk and country music groups gather in the city park, providing family entertainment well into the night, especially on Saturdays. In the spring and fall, when the nights are too cool for the musicians’ fingers to pluck their stringed instruments, they play in the afternoons. It’s a popular attraction, so make your hotel reservation well in advance. As you might expect, there’s not much pickin’ and grinnin’ in the winter.
From Mountain View, we rode north on Highway 5, and just before the junction with Highways 9 and 14, we turned left on Swinging Bridge Road, named after the cable-suspended wooden bridge over the crystal-clear South Sylamore Creek. Just west of the bridge, mountainous Highway 14 took us to the Blanchard Springs Recreation Area with its springs, caverns, and cliffside hiking trails. Mirror Lake, popular for its rainbow trout, is fed by the cold water from Blanchard Springs. Near the lake, one can hike a wooden walkway and down stone steps to where the spring comes out of the caverns. Pretty cool. Below the Mirror Lake dam, another trail takes you to the remains of a corn mill built in the early 1900s and the bottom of Mirror Lake Falls.
On the map, Highway 87 looked like it would be fun, so we rode it back to Mountain View. It was a good choice!
From Mountain View, we again rode north on Highway 5 along the lovely White River and through charming places like Calico Rock, Old Joe, and Norfork. A short hop west on Highway 201 took us to the sweeping curves of Highway 341 (Push Mountain Road) into the Leatherwood Wilderness area.
At Highway 14, we turned west again and crossed Big Creek and the Buffalo River. If you ride through here during hot weather, the Buffalo is a great place to cool off, with parking and access at Dillard’s Ferry.
Just south of Yellville (if you cross Crooked Creek, you’ve gone too far), we turned west on Highway 235 and rode south until it ended at U.S. Route 65. We continued west, turning onto Highway 123 again near Western Grove and riding south. We crossed the Buffalo River again just before we got to Piercetown.
Rather than ride a short 10 miles west on Highway 74 to Jasper, we continued south on Highway 123 through what’s known as the Arkansas Grand Canyon, taking the long way to Jasper via Highway 7. After only a few miles on Highway 123, my Husky’s low-fuel light lit up, but we were still some 45 miles from “good” gas in Jasper. I asked myself, Should I stop at the one gas station on 123 and put low octane in my thumper or chance it and go for the good stuff? I chose the latter – and ran out of gas just 7 miles south of Jasper. Next time I’ll know: A gallon of cheap gas is better than none at all! Bill’s KLR had just enough fuel left to get him to Jasper, and after a short roadside nap, we were off again.
Jasper is a lovely little town, and just north of it, after crossing the Buffalo again, is Highway 74, an often overlooked but fantastic motorcycling route. We rode it west to Highway 43 – famous for elk sightings – and then west on Highway 21 and south on 74 again.
Highway 74 connected us to the famous Pig Trail Scenic Byway (Highway 23). Feeling bolder than I should have, I tried to use the Husky’s superior power to pull away from Bill’s KLR, but he stretched the KLR’s throttle cable and hung with me. As fast as we dared go, some guy on a multi-cylinder crotch rocket blew by us and out of sight. One good thing about riding a thumper is that you feel like you’re going fast when you really aren’t.
Highway 23 dropped us down out of the Ozarks onto Interstate 40 and then back home to Oklahoma.
Riding big Singles for 650 miles in two days wasn’t bad at all. In fact, in the mountains of Arkansas, it was big fun.
At first glance the small farming town of Posen, which is situated along State Route 65 in northeastern Michigan and hosts an annual Potato Festival, doesn’t appear to be a logical meet-up spot to kick off a daylong motorcycle tour. But the Route 65 Diner offers up classic breakfast and lunch fare, the nearby Posen EZ Mart is a convenient place to fill up, and the village is near Lake Huron, the second largest of the Great Lakes, so it’s perfect starting point for a Lake Huron lighthouses loop.
This scenic route through the northeast corner of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula is about 180 miles and provides a leisurely day of riding with stops for sightseeing and food. It offers unique historical sites, lighthouses, shipwrecks, wildlife sanctuaries, parks and beaches on Lake Huron, and paved roads through deep timber forests.
The ride is best done between Memorial Day and Labor Day but could be done earlier in the spring or later in the fall depending on the weather. We took our ride in September.
About 5 miles north of Posen, Route 65 dead-ends at U.S. Route 23, which runs along the edge of Lake Huron’s Michigan shore from Mackinaw City to Saginaw. We headed east on Route 23 and soon entered Thompson’s Harbor State Park. We turned onto Old State Road, followed it to the end, and went north on East Grand Lake Road, which took us onto a narrow peninsula that juts into Lake Huron between North Bay and Presque Isle Bay.
On the right, we saw the Old Presque Isle Lighthouse, which was built in 1840. Due to the harsh weather on Lake Huron, the original lighthouse deteriorated, and the New Presque Isle Lighthouse was built in 1870 farther north near the end of the peninsula. Standing 113.5 feet tall, it is one of the tallest lighthouses on the Great Lakes. Both lighthouses have been restored and are part of a 99-acre park that includes a playground, picnic area, pavilion, gift shop, museum, and nature trails.
Adjacent to the New Presque Isle Lighthouse is a keeper’s house that was built in 1905 and is now a museum. Admission is free, but we paid $5 to climb the 130 steps to the top of the lighthouse for excellent views of Lake Huron and the Presque Isle area. The buildings and grounds are open to the public daily from mid-May through mid-October.
We returned to U.S. Route 23 and rode south, finding a few curves along the edges of Grand Lake and Long Lake, which are just inland from Lake Huron. We made our way to Alpena, a town of about 10,000 residents that sits on the northern shore of Thunder Bay. Nearby are two lighthouses, but they are out in the lake on islands and only accessible by boat.
The Thunder Bay National Marine Sanctuary protects an area of Lake Huron known as “Shipwreck Alley” where there have been more than 100 historically significant shipwrecks. Some of the wrecks are close enough to the surface for sightseeing, which we did on a two-hour shipwreck tour on a glass-bottom boat called the Lady Michigan. We also visited the Great Lakes Maritime Heritage Center, a museum with exhibits and pieces of boats that washed ashore.
When we left the museum, the Royal Enfield and Triumph riders in our group insisted we check out a British tavern in downtown Alpena called the Black Sheep Pub. It is decorated with British flags and memorabilia, and the menu includes rich and tasty pub grub like fish and chips, a pork burger drizzled with vinegar, Scotch eggs, and pickled chips.
After lunch, we continued south on Route 23 through parts of Thunder Bay River State Forest, Au Sable State Forest, and Huron National Forest. This is chainsaw country. In Ossineke, we passed colorful concrete statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox built in the 1940s by Paul Domke, who also built the creatures in the nearby Dinosaur Gardens Prehistoric Zoo.
South of Alcona, we visited Sturgeon Point Lighthouse, which was built in 1870. The 70-foot lighthouse is maintained by the U.S. Coast Guard and is open to the public. The keeper’s house is a maritime museum open from Memorial Day to mid-September.
At Harrisville, the Harley and Indian riders in our group made it known that it was time for some American food. We rode west on State Route 72 into the heart of Huron National Forest and then turned north on State Route 65 to Curran. Just north of town, we stopped at the Lunch Block and had a proper lumberjack breakfast.
Full from our hearty meal, we further compressed the suspension of our motorcycles and continued north on Route 65 through a section of forest so dense that no paved roads cross to the east. Werth Road finally appeared and provided a paved route with a few curves back to Alpena. Alternatively, you can continue north on 65 and turn east on State Route 32.
Just north of Alpena, past the wildlife sanctuary, we picked up Long Rapids Road, which meanders along the Thunder Bay River heading northwest to the town of Bolton. We continued north on Bolton Road, then west on Long Lake Highway, and finally back onto Route 65 for our return to Posen.
If Michigan is in your motorcycle travel plans, check out the northeastern part of the state near the Lake Huron shore. The roads provide scenic views of the lake and some mellow curves and hills, and the lighthouses and historic sites are a nice diversion when it’s time to stretch your legs.