Gulf Coast Getaway, Day 13

Taking You Home
Friday June 4, 2010
Copyright(c) 2010, Jim Beachy

And this love
Is like nothing I have ever known, no no baby
Take my hand love
I’m taking you home
I’m taking you, home
Where we can be with the ones who really care
Home, where we can grow together
Keep you, in my heart forever
- Don Henley/Stan Lynch/Stuart Brawley

You wouldn’t think losing an hour would make much difference, but I find I’m a little sluggish this morning. Instead of rising and shining, I’m dragging and drooping just a little, so it’s actually after 9:00 AM by the time we finish breakfast and load out.

“And there we go!” Kitty says in my headset for perhaps the hundredth time this trip. She starts off this last day’s ride as she always does to signal that she’s situated on the bike and ready to move. Kitty is feeling strong, the way we wish she could have felt two days ago. All vestiges of whatever sickness inhabited her normally healthy frame have disappeared. Last night we rode until the GPS showed an estimated remaining riding time of just under five hours, so that’s about what we have for the day.

As we make the turn for the entrance to I-81 north, I mark a waypoint for the Wildflour Bakery, because I’m pretty sure we’ll be back. It’s a pleasant cool morning with temperatures in the low 70’s and a pale blue watercolor sky painted in wispy white watercolors with a few high cirrus clouds. Heavy storms moved through the Washington, DC area last evening, and more sever storms are forecasted for late tonight, but I’m optimistic we should slide on home between the storms.

Periodically, I hear Kitty repeat seemingly disjointed phrases or snatches of music in the headset. “Veggie Tales – Veggie Tales – Veggie Tales.” “Happy-cake!” “Aw, shucks!” When I ask her about this, it turns out these are all phrases uttered under curious conditions by Carter or Danica. I realize she’s replaying our visit with the Mississippi family in her mind. I judge this a pretty good place to be, so I’m mostly quiet so as not to intrude on her reverie.

We do talk some about the trip. We remember the spectacular white sand beaches of the Florida Panhandle that are now being threatened by the greatest natural disaster this country has ever seen, the oil blossoming from the seabed into the Gulf. While we were in Gulfport, the Federal government closed nearly the entire expanse of Gulf fishing waters in Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, and some of our Gulfport friends were nearly beside themselves because that’s what they do: fish! It’s been an unusual trip because we took some time out of the middle to visit our family, and it was surprisingly hard to make the transition back to biker mode. I smile as I realize we haven’t listened to any music the whole trip; we turned on the radio briefly one afternoon to get a weather report, otherwise it’s just been Kitty and me in our headsets. There’s a combination I can live with!

And here we are, making our last fuel stop 147 miles from home, and we plan not to stop until we arrive home. It’s as hotter and more humid here in Virginia as it was at any point along the Gulf coast, with the temperature hovering in the low 90’s. Running north through the Shenandoah Valley, we see huge cloud banks hovering over the mountains, many miles to east and to the west. The hot air cools as it climbs the mountains that form the valley, and the moisture-laden air forms giant white clouds that stand like a towering line of defense guarding our pathway homeward as we work north and east through the valley on I-81. There appears to be no threat of rain in our vicinity or anywhere we can see, just those monster white cloud banks demarcating the valley. At I-81 Milepost 300 we catch I-66 for the last segment home. I’m glad I have cruise control because it would be hard to hold down my speed for the last 52 miles.

We pull into the driveway, move some vehicles, and park the bike and trailer in the garage. There might be a ride tomorrow with some biker cousins and others, but I opt to leave the cleaning to some future time. We have ridden 333 miles today, and a total of 2,422 miles for the trip. As vacation rides go, this has been another short one for mileage but we sure did enjoy the time with the family.

Maybe next year will the time to pull the trigger on my already-sketched 8,000-mile “Rocky Mountains One More Time” tour that will take us from Jasper, Alberta in the north, and southward along the spine of the Canadian and US Rockies into New Mexico before turning eastward and eventually home.

It’s been a great ride: The bike performed flawlessly; Kitty in fact did not fall off the bike in a fainting spell; we saw places we’ve never seen before; running the back roads of South Carolina and Georgia brought into sharp focus the economic crisis from which we are in some ways shielded here in the Washington, DC area; we made some new friends and got reacquainted with some old ones; we spent five days with our beloved family and grandchildren. So it’s all good. Touring the country with a woman of beauty who is so quick to see beauty is one of the greatest treasures of my life.

So for now, I’m content. But it won’t be long before I once again hear the call of the Slow Road, or perhaps the Long Road, or even the Technical Twisty Road, and I know my bike will be ready to answer the call when it comes.

See you then!

GPS Track Day 13

GPS Track For Trip, Selected Waypoints Included

Gulf Coast Getaway, Day 12

Pokey-Mon

Thursday June 3, 2010

Copyright(c) 2010, Jim Beachy

We are sitting in the spacious lobby having a little breakfast. "I'd planned to get an early start this morning, knowing we are losing an hour today," I say to Kitty. "But I wanted to make sure you get your rest after your adventures of yesterday."

She gives me something that could probably be written as "Hmmpphh – and who got up first this morning?"

Our planned ride home is mostly on Interstate routes, but I'd routed a hundred-mile stretch of scenic two-lane roads in Alabama if we have time. I'm not sure if we actually do have time, but, undeterred by this small detail, I strike out for Noccalula Falls just north of Gadsden, Alabama, and find the Lookout Mountain Parkway northward. This is listed as a scenic road that almost exactly parallels I-59 and ends near Chattanooga, Tennessee.

Somewhere along this route is Little River Canyon Scenic Road, which we also intend to ride. I ask the attendant at Noccalula Falls Park if the Lookout Mountain Road automatically runs into the canyon road and am assured it does. So we ride Tabor Road, which also seems to be Country Road 3, northward. While not a scenic must-see route, it's a nice break from the Interstate and Kitty particularly enjoys the many lovely homes with their well-manicured lawns. Many of them feature a shrub-like bush with large blue flowers, bigger than a softball. We've seen these all over the south and while I'm not sure, I've looked up "large blue flowers shrub" on my Google Machine and the description associated with Nikko Blue Hydrangeas seems to match the shrubs we've seen. So for now, that's what we will call them.

At the town of Fort Payne, we expect to find the canyon road but in fact it's five miles east and the road runs about 30 miles south, back the way we came. The park attendant had spoken poorly. I have planned poorly! We decide to ride half the canyon road before following Rt 176 back out to the Lookout Mountain Parkway. As it turns out, my planning is even poorer than suspected, because riding south, all the turnouts are slanted the wrong way to park my big bike, and they are all gravel, and it's just too risky to take 1,400 pounds of bike, trailer, and people onto these heavily graveled lookouts. So we get pictures from just one lookout.

By the time we've made it back off the narrow canyon road to Lookout Mountain Parkway, it's getting to be 11:00 AM local time and we have yet to "lose" our hour, and we have at least 350 miles to cover, so we decide to head for the Interstate and abandon the rest of the scenic road.
I am feeling that I may have planned poorly altogether for this morning in trying to work some scenic riding into the trip homeward. But the good news is that Kitty is doing very well after yesterday's escapades. "I wouldn't win any races," she says, "but I'm feeling just fine today!"

On the Interstate I see a BMW sneak up behind me and position himself in the right track. I see it's a guy we met at the hotel last night and saw several times this morning as our paths crossed on the scenic routes we'd both randomly chosen. It's an RT 1200, and I expect he will pass me shortly as I ride the 70-mph speed limit plus five. But he seems to be content back there in my right-side mirror, and although he has no CB, I can tell he's done this before, so for 130 miles we streak northward together on I-59, through the northwest corner of Georgia where we "lose" the hour we had gained in Apalachicola. We wind our way through the complex Interstate routes around Chattanooga that terminate in I-81 north, until at some point we have to exit for fuel. And he does the same! We go to different gas stations, but we've decided to take a break from the 90-degree heat and sit in a fast-food place for a while to cool off and get a bite to eat. He sees us there and rides up, so we invite him in.

It turns out his name is John, from Houston, a retired Navy and commercial pilot who flew A7 Corsair "light attack" bombers. Ironically, he's come to this very exit to meet some friends who were all pilots together on the USS Saratoga. They get together somewhere every year. This year they are meeting here, riding the Cherohala Skyway, and wandering over to Arkansas to a museum which they've discovered contains one of the actual A7 planes they all flew in combat missions! The museum is holding a special event to celebrate their visit.

I have the GPS routed to our home and I tell Kitty "We'll ride until the number of remaining miles on the GPS is what you want it to be for tomorrow." It's been above 90 degrees and sunny most of the afternoon, but Kitty is doing great, one of her best days in these temperatures that I can remember. She opts to knock it off at Abingdon, Virginia, I-81 Exit 19, at about 6:00 PM local time. The GPS "miles remaining" shows 332, so that's what we will ride tomorrow. We've been riding for over eight hours and have covered 372 miles including my questionable poke-along start.

The hotel clerk recommends a local restaurant named the Wildflour Bakery. We walk to the place, and as we're being seated, Kitty says "I already love this place." I've left my camera in the hotel, but I snap a picture with my cell phone. Abingdon is kind of an artsy-craftsy town, and this restaurant certainly fits into that mold. It's located in an old three-story house, which we learn was built by the owner's grandmother. Original paintings and ceramics adorn the walls and shelves. It is the perfect off-the-beaten-path place to end our day. The exquisite pork tenderloin is served with perfectly crunchy fresh purple and yellow cauliflower and fresh mashed potatoes, the vegetables having been obtained from the local fruit market.

So if you ever stop in Abingdon for lunch or dinner, check out the Wildflour Bakery just east of I-81 Exit 19, 24443 Lee Highway, Abingdon, VA, 24211. They have no web site but they should. You might want to call ahead at (276) 676-4221 – their schedule is complicated. This funky place is real treat!

After walking back to the hotel from the restaurant, Kitty helps me clean and cover the bike. Yes, after all these years, I still do it every night. And as always, Kitty has no responsibilities to help do this but sometimes she does, and it's more fun when she helps!

Tomorrow should see us home.

GPS Track, Day 12

Gulf Coast Getaway, Day 11

A Journey of a Thousand Miles Starts with Good-Bye
Wednesday June 2, 2010
Copyright(c) 2010, Jim Beachy

But the ending always comes at last,
Endings always come too fast,
They come too fast but they pass too slow,
I love you and that's all I know

- Art Garfunkle (Jimmy Webb), "That's All I Know"

We are up and showered early, eating breakfast before the rest of the family so as not to interfere with their plans. The kids are going to an alligator farm today and we will be leaving at the same time they do.

Yesterday Kitty was sick with a fever, chills, and upset stomach. Last night she gathered a thick blanket around herself and was still shivering. This morning she pronounces herself "not quite 100% but ready to travel." I'm not so sure. I'm thinking we should hang out here for a day or two longer, regardless of plans or other commitments. After all, it's not like a sick passenger can sleep on the bike they way one could in a car.

But Kitty is steadfast, so at 8:45 we are saying our tearful good-byes to the Mississippi family and are ready to start our 1,020-mile trek homeward. Any journey of a thousand miles homeward from here starts with good-bye. You'd think this "good-bye" thing would get easier with practice, wouldn't you? But it doesn't, at least not for us.

"Bye, Papa. Bye, Nona," says Danica bravely. We wave good-bye, ease out of the driveway, and in 30 seconds are out of sight around the bend.

"Danica is doing pretty well this time," I manage in the headset. "Better than I'm doing!" Kitty seems to feel what I feel, or maybe she feels the lump in my throat, or it could even be she hears a sniffle in the headset, and rubs my shoulders in an understanding gesture that is beyond words.

It's already hot, 87 degrees under large puffy white clouds, as we run north on US 49. Off to the left are some black cows in a lush green field: Kitty's favorite cow scene. "There's your scenery for the day!" I tell her. "You won't be seeing much other scenery today!" Otherwise, few words are spoken as we each try to make the transition from grandparents to a biker couple. It's harder than I thought it would be.

Normally we avoid Interstates with a passion, but the trip parameters, maximal time with the family in Mississippi, and the need for Kitty to be home for a seminar on Saturday have conspired to create a mostly-Interstate ride home. We catch I-59 at Hattiesburg, and from there through Alabama there's not much to see on the Interstate except trees on either side.

A few miles north of Laurel, Mississippi, Kitty asks "Where's the next rest area?" We've traveled about 100 miles without a break. I check the GPS and see "Parking Area" about seven miles ahead.

"I doubt the parking area will have facilities. We can ride to there and then stop at the next place if there are no facilities," I tell her.

In a minute she says "We'd better stop at the parking area." Her voice is strained and I know something is amiss, because normally she wouldn't be asking to stop at a parking area without facilities. I sense trouble and unceremoniously duck off the Interstate at the exit we happen to be passing at the moment, Exit 104 for Sandersville.

"My eyes won't focus!" Kitty says.

"Are you dizzy?"

"I don't think so, but I really don't feel well and my eyes won't focus!"

I believe she's about to lose consciousness, and I have to admit I'm freaking out as I have visions of Kitty passing out and falling off the bike. I go through a mental checklist on how I'd stop the bike and what I'd do if that were to happen. I keep talking to her to make sure she's still conscious. There's absolutely nothing but trees and a narrow two-lane road here where we are, and not even a suitable shoulder to pull off. If I have to stop, it will be squarely in the roadway. I do a frantic GPS search for medical services, and the nearest listing is more than 8 miles back the way we came, in Laurel.

I slowly ride the mile to the tiny village of Sandersville, which has one gas station. I quickly pull in and help Kitty off the bike. She staggers and nearly falls as she slides off the passenger seat. "I guess I was about to go out and didn't realize it!" she says.

After sitting in the shade for 30 minutes and drinking a bottle of water, she feels much better. "I think maybe we should find a motel back at Laurel and just hang out for the day," I suggest.
Kitty wants to ride at least to Meridian, a larger town about 55 miles farther north. "I feel fine now," she says, "better than I did yesterday. I think it was just a combination of being sick yesterday and maybe not drinking enough water." We are both conscientious about drinking large quantities of water while riding, even if it means more rest room breaks.

I'm still dubious but I finally relent. "Ok, we can try that, but next time don't wait until you're passing out before letting me know there's a problem!" I'm wearing my favorite t-shirt, "Temporarily Out of Service," and I tell her we should swap.

By the time we reach Meridian she's feeling even better and wants to push on. As we roll northeast on I-59 and I-20, my Kriss Amp-U-Tron reads 90.7 degrees and clouds are gathering ahead. I can tell we're going to hit rain but don't think it's a large cell and opt not to put on rain gear. I'm right, it's just a little five-mile rain squall and as long as we keep moving at road speed, we are almost impervious to rain except Kitty's shoulders and front of her shirt where the still air pocket created by the big Tulsa windshield collapses. The temperature has gone from 90 to 73 degrees, a drop of 17 degrees, and it a refreshingly cool ride until the temperature climbs back up into the upper 80s and lower 90s.

I insist that we stop every hour for a 30 minute rest break. As far as I'm concerned all trip parameters are a thing of the past, and my only concern is for Kitty. I'd be happy just finding a place and staying there, but she continues to feel ok and wants to ride, although feeling a little queasy at times, and she hasn't felt up to eating. At noon we cross into Alabama and finally do stop at a Cracker Barrel in Tuscaloosa, Alabama for a late lunch at 3:00 PM. Now, we hardly ever eat at Cracker Barrel, but in this case I choose it primarily because of one of its consistent outstanding features: The slow service will insure that we sit there for at least an hour or more, which is exactly what I want!

We run through several more rain squalls and finally find a new Hampton Inn, near Gadsden, Alabama, so new it is not yet in my GPS map. We've ridden 362 miles in about 8 hours including over 2 hours 15 minutes of stopped time for rest breaks. I can tell Kitty has been feeling better as the day progressed; this evening she says she's tired but hopes she'll be fine by tomorrow so we can push on toward home. As for me, rather than suffer a repeat performance of today's adventure, I'll gladly stay put for a while.

Tomorrow will reveal its secrets when it arrives.

GPS Track, Day 11

Gulf Coast Getaway, Day 10

One More Lazy Day

Tuesday June 1, 2010

Copyright(c) 2010, Jim Beachy

"Have a good walk!" I sleepily tell Kitty at about 5:30 AM. She's headed for an early morning beach walk with some other friends.

Ten minutes later she's climbing back into bed. "That was short!"

"There's lightening in the sky. Walk is cancelled!" she announces.

I sleep until inordinately late, and by that time four butterflies have hatched in the habitat. By late morning, all five have hatched. I'm glad we got to see them all be transformed out of their cocoons into beautiful butterflies. Some of them sit on the slices of orange or sugar-water-laced cotton balls that will be their food until they are released. Their expected life span is about two to three weeks.

Kevin is at work today but he calls and we meet him at The Dock for lunch. The place is nearly empty today for lunch, but it seems like it would be a lively weekend place with a live oyster bar, plenty of outside bayside seating, and that"cool place to be" feel with pictures of large game fish and actual fishing tackle scattered throughout.

When the Mississippi family lived in Virginia, Danica was deathly afraid of my Gold Wing and wouldn't go near it. So we've been surprised, this trip, that she's been asking for a ride. So after dinner, I take off the Utopia backrest to have a better sense of how my small passenger is doing. We gravely put her into jeans, work Kitty's helmet onto her head, plop her onto the pillion seat and plug in the headset so we can talk. Meanwhile, poor Carter is freaking out because he wants his turn too. "Mo'cycle! Papa mo'cycle!" he keeps repeating in a plaintive voice.

I give careful instructions to Danica and explain that the motorcycle will lean a little and that we will probably feel a few bumps. We make a sedate turn around the block at 15 miles per hour in first gear. "Would you like to go a little faster?" I ask.

"No, this fast is good enough!" she says.

Next is 22-month-old Carter, who sits between Kristal and myself as we do the little block thing again. He sits very still and is happy to have had his turn on the bike.

Lazy time has pretty much come to an end. Tomorrow we plan to head homeward in what promises to be a mostly-Interstate kind of ride, one that doesn't usually work into our preferences but we opted for more time with the family and less time on the road for this particular trip. Only problem is, Kitty is sick. "We won't be able to travel tomorrow if you're sick!" I tell her.

"You underestimate me! Remember when we went to Key West I had a temperature of 102 degrees the day before? I'll be fine."

So we enjoy a last evening with the family, and repack all the laundered clothes that have been piled helter-skelter into a corner of the room we're using. We've already been making plans for our next visit, which will be via airplane, not on the Wing. If plans hold and Kitty is able to travel, we plan to start our homeward trek tomorrow morning under a very unsettled weather pattern. We won't know how it works out until then.

Gulf Coast Getaway, Day 9

Memories

Monday May 31, 2010

Copyright(c) 2010, Jim Beachy

By 8:00 AM when I wonder over to Steve's house, he and Kevin have already been working for an hour on the big flower boxes. One is completely assembled.

Steve's wife appears with some snacks. "Our neighbor put up the US flag and got it right," she says. This is largely a Navy town and a Navy neighborhood, so things such as how a US flag are positioned are important. I can tell Steve is pleased with this news.

On Memorial Day, when we remember those who have fallen in the line of duty serving the United States of America, it seems especially important that a flag be displayed correctly. I think of the US flag flying on the right-side antenna of my Gold Wing, at the moment parked in Kevin's garage awaiting the trip homeward to Virginia. Long ago, before attaching it for the first time, I'd carefully researched how to position it correctly, and on which antenna with reference to the rider it should be placed. I am always happy to see my US flag fluttering in the breeze each time I glance at my right-side mirror as we ride. This is the fifth such flag I've had on my bike. Eventually, over thousands of miles, the wind and rain take their toll: The trailing edge becomes frayed and tattered, and the once-bright colors become muted and gray. When a flag is ready for retirement and replacement, I use a magic marker to write on the attachment edging some notable places it has been, and then it's carefully retired to a place of honor in my collection. This particular flag was new sometime last year and has now logged somewhere over 10,000 miles north to the Gaspe Peninsula, our northernmost ride ever, and now twice to the Gulf Coast plus various places in between. It already shows signs of wear but should travel for many more thousands of miles before retirement.

Kevin and Kristal are planning a Hawaiian-themed barbecue this evening, so we spend much of the rest of the day preparing for that. Steve has offered to mow Kevin's back lawn with his giant riding mower, which he does, and than apparently because he just can't help himself, mows the front as well!

I don't count the guests but there are probably around 25 or so with the kids. Water games have been set up for the kids, and these sometimes spill over onto the adults with or without intent. It's a nice evening to meet new friends and Kevin's neighbors. A storm threatens but it never reaches us. I learn more about the SeaBees and how, though their chain of command is through the Navy, their services are requisitioned by all branches of the US Armed Services. They are deployed all over the world in some places that would be very unexpected to civilians like me.

This evening there are three butterflies in the little butterfly habitat, leaving two cocoons still unopened. Kitty, Kristal, and several other women are planning to walk on the beach at 6:00 AM tomorrow morning. For my part, I love the beach and thanks very much but I'll see you when you get back!