MyRidz.com: Get out there™ |
Keith's Big Ride - Glencoe, Kentucky to Clinton, Oklahoma
Leg 7: Kentucky-Tenessee - Arkansas-Oklahoma
1st day - Kentucky, approx 310 miles Managed to survive my encounter with the reunion of the cast from Deliverance and got out of their unscathed.
Leave Glencoe, Kentucky and ride a few different back roads for a while, making my way south and west to the far corner of Kentucky. About mid-morning, at a gas stop, I took a look at my front tire (which I've been wanting to replace for a while). Oops - not going far on that thing. Tires and brakes are something I take seriously on a bike, and this needs attention. Some guy in front of a country store tells me he's pretty sure there's a Harley dealer in Frankfort, so I pick up the 127 and head toward Frankfort - only about an hour away, and kind of in the right direction. Highway 127 is not bad. It's not quite a country road, but a long way from an interstate, too. The scenery is a mix of rolling hills and farms, and lush thick forests with some of the greenest and healthiest trees I've seen in a while. Makes for a really pleasant cruise. Yes, the grin is back! See a couple of bikes at a gas station after a few miles and decide to double check this "roadside fact." "Nope, no dealer in Frankfort, but there's 3 of them in Louisville," I'm told. So I point off in the direct. I blast along I-64 west to Louisville, along with the usual interstate assortment of trucks, semis, and cars. But the scenery along the way is classic Kentucky forest and farms, so I can deal with the traffic. I find Louisville Harley Davidson alongside I-65, just south of downtown Louisville. This is one of those full size Harley places with a huge bike showroom, and a separate clothing boutique. It's huge. I worry about the fact that shops like this usually book service appointments a week or two in advance. I cant wait another day for this tire. But when I tell the service guy I'm on a cross-country run and just passing through, he says no problem, he'll take care of me asap. He tells me that travelers always get special consideration - great news. Then he starts to tell me about some of his various road trips and adventures. He's got a few doozies. He directs me to the "customer lounge" while I wait, and I'm treated to music, TV, fresh coffee, and a wireless internet connection. Welcome to a modern motorcycle shop! Great service at this place - a big thumbs up to Louisville Harley Davidson. I check email, look at stock prices and contemplate a future on a moped instead of a Harley. But hey, stocks will go back up, right? The guys at the shop directed me to hook up with the Western Kentucky Parkway, which is supposed to be "like an interstate, but nicer," whatever that means. He says I'll like it, so off I go. So I head south from Louisville on I-65 to connect with the Parkway at Elizabethtown, about an hour's ride to the South. The Western Kentucky Parkway - it lived up to it's billing and then some. It turns out to be one of the sweetest roads of the trip so far.
Yeah, it is divided 2-laner, but.... That's where the resemblance to an interstate ends. There is hardly any traffic (almost none of those dreaded trucks!), the road surface condition would make a Formula 1 driver happy, and the road is bordered by lush trees, occasionally broken up by streams. No billboards, no ugly roadside attractions - just mile after mile of blacktop rolling through beautiful countryside - y-a-a-a-h-o-o-o! Bring it on! Come across an accident just West of the turnoff to Beaver Dam, and I see motorcycles are involved. The cops are already there, so I don't know what I will add to things, but you never know, so I pull over. Two 20-something guys on hot sport bikes (cousins), one of whom has just had a brush with death - but fortunately, has survived to tell the tale. He's busy talking to the cop, at the same time staring at the remaining bits and pieces of his bike, which will never see a road again, by the looks of it. His story: a semi changed lanes abruptly right in front of him and he came on to the brakes to avoid slamming into the truck, but ended up putting the bike down at full speed. Both riders are wearing shorts and t-shirts with no helmets - it's a wonder this guy got off alive - seems to have only a half dozen patches of pretty good road-rash to show for his adventure. Maybe he'll learn a lesson from this - to slow down, give other vehicles plenty of distance, and wear the right gear, especially when blasting down the highway at 80 mhp. Another relative shows up, summoned by the ever-present cell phone, and things look under control, so I move on. It's getting late and I have my eye on a bunch of campground icons near Exit 31, near Grand Rivers, Kentucky, which is at the northern end of a nice green spot on the map called "Land-Between-the-Lakes National Recreation Area." I'm now on I-24 West, having reluctantly seen the last of the Western Kentucky Parkway a few miles back. But I get bad news when I ask for suggestions on a campground/bar/restaurant combo at a service station just off the exit. I'm in one of those dreaded "Dry Counties", "ya'll cain't get no liquor in this here county, son, ya gots to go over ta the nixt exit fer that" I stare dumfounded at this revelation for a few seconds,  translating to my native tongue as I process this dilemma. It finally sinks in, and off I go, backtracking 10 miles. A couple of miles down the road, I see a small blue car pulled way off into the grass, with it's emergency flashers on. I remember seeing it from the other direction when I went by here 20 minutes ago. Doesn't look like anything is going on, but I pull over to check it out. Turns out there is a major catastrophe brewing for the 3 occupants of the car. It's a woman with her two daughters (about 20 and 8 yrs old). They're driving from their hometown to Nashville (I think?) so the daughter can take her cosmetologist exam. But...... as I quickly gather from the woman's tears and shouts into the cell phone, they have a flat tire, and are not getting much help from the car rental company. Nor do they have the faintest idea how to change a tire. The daughter's exam is at 8 am the next morning, it's almost dark, and they're 2 hours from their destination with a flat tire. The worst part - they've been sitting here stewing over this for an hour, and I am the first one to pull over. I'm amazed. I thought everyone around here seemed so friendly and helpful - how could this happen? Maybe because this family is black - and the vast majority of drivers going by is white - is that what's going on here? Anyway, I quickly change their tire (for one of those little emergency spares that you can't drive very far with on the highway), and refuse the mother's handful of crumpled $1 bills she offers me after scrounging around inside the car. I get the idea they live right on the edge financially, and that the daughter's license is seen as a very big deal in their lives. I refuse their money, wish them well and move along. I really hope they made it to Nashville on time, and that the daughter passed her exam. I think about the fact that this nice little family probably would have been stranded on the side of the highway all night if I hadn't stopped - because it seems most while folk couldn't care less about helping a black person in a bind. This is so wrong - won't things ever change. Get off at Exit 40 (Kutawa), and bunk down for the night at the cozy little Relax Inn. Before closing my eyes for the night, I look at the map and get a gleam in my eye for the next morning. I'm going to ride the 100 miles of scenic roadway called "The Trace" through the Land-Between-the-Lakes National Recreation Area. The map shows a bunch of those dotted "scenic route" marks, and it's through a park area - looking good!!  Can't wait - but shuteye time first. Leg 7 - 2nd day: Kutawa, Kentucky, to Hot Springs, Arkansas 427 miles According to the map, I can get to Grand Rivers from Kutawa (about 12 miles) on the back roads, skipping I-24. Sounds like a reasonable way to start my day, so I'm off. But the relative straight orderly lines on the map don't bear any resemblance to the twisting serpentine back roads, and after looping back on myself a couple of times and still finding that I am pointing East instead of West, I give up and take the interstate. Grand Rivers is at the northern head of the Land-Between-the-Lakes National Recreation Area, a gorgeous area running North/South from Kentucky into Tennessee. I pick up the road, called "The Trace" (I don't know the origin of the name) just south of Grand Rivers. The Trace is a perfect morning treat on a bike.  A 2-laner with beautiful countryside, lush vegetation, great asphalt conditions, and almost no traffic. I'm in heaven once again, as I sing the tune of the day, completely oblivious of technicalities such as musical keys. Who needs talent - this works for me. The Trace curves, rises, and falls for about 80 miles through the country side. There are plenty of campgrounds, hiking trails, boat launches, and historic sites along the way - but I am into one thing this morning - the feel of the road coursing up through 700 pounds of motorcycle. I'm in touch, in tune, and loving every second of this. Living in the moment!
tenessee....="" target="_blank">Tenessee...."> Reluctantly, I come back to reality and pick up Highway 79 running Southwest. I'm now in Tennessee and the trip picks up a distinctly international flavor, as I pass the towns of India, Paris, Macedonia, Trezevant, and Milan along the way. The 79 is a far cry from The Trace. It's got plenty of stoplights at little towns, and enough traffic that I have to keep my guard up all the time. I decide to cut over to the left (South) and pick up I-40 to make some time. Although the I-40 can take me right across the country into California, I promise myself that I will spend as little time on it as I can. It's fast, sure, but crowded with cars, and of course, the dreaded big rig truck. And did I mention - It's v-e-e-er-r-r-y-y HOT!! Even hotter out on the asphalt sitting astride a big hot motorcycle engine. Why did I decide to take this route at this time of year?? Caution - I have never seen so many cops with radar as I do riding west on I-40 in Tennessee. They must have too many state troopers or something, because I see them at least every 5 or 10 miles for quite a stretch. Despite my high state of alertness on the 40 I find myself getting drowsy - a dangerous scenario on a motorcycle at 70 MPH in heavy traffic. I pull into Memphis, and cruise around the downtown streets, block by block, trying to find a Starbucks, or any coffee shop for that matter. I ask a couple of times for directions to a coffee shop, but just get some head-scratching in response. Starbucks - are you reading this? You are desperately needed in Memphis!
I give up, and get back on the I-40, crossing the majestic Mississippi as I leave downtown Memphis, and cross into Arkansas. An uneventful 120 miles or so to Little Rock on I-40, as I keep a worried eye on the black cloud mass looming on the western horizon. My goal is to get to Hot Springs for the night, about 50 miles Soutwest of Little Rock, but I don't know if I'll make it before the clouds do their thing. I don't. Just as I see a sigh for a Harley shop going through Little Rock, the first splatters hit me. I pull off, and what do I see. A perfect little oasis in the gathering storm. Right next to the Harley dealership is Fat Boy's Hawg Diner, with several bikes outside. And, lo and behold, there's is a tent-like carport (bike-port?) shelter in the parking lot, with room for one more bike - perfect!
I wait out the storm at this unique biker restaurant with the local ABATE chapter having its monthly meeting one one side and a bunch of guys in colors on the other. Everyone asks me about my trip, and tells me of their many such journeys. Naturally, with this group, nobody asks me why I'm doing this - to them it's obvious - because the road is there and you just gotta get out there and explore the world. The rain breaks after an hour, and I get many hearty wishes for the rest of my trip as I leave my new friends and do the last part of today's ride - the 50 miles to Hot Springs. Boring interstate scenery for about 25 miles south on I-30, till I get off at exit 111 and take Highway 70 West to Hot Springs. Another gorgeous country road - and the rain is holding off. A perfect way to end the day. 
Ride into Hot Springs and am amazed at what I see. I didn't realize this has been a resort town for well over century, complete with beautiful old hotels, bath houses, stone walls and picturesque walking trails. Perfect place to spend the night. Seems like I'm not the only one with this idea - it's July 3 and the town is filling up for the July 4th long weekend. Discover a jewel of a hotel just off the main drag - the Happy Hollow Motel. I'm greeted warmly by two little old Hungarian ladies who insist on giving me a little basket with assorted chocolates, and then they come outside to bring me another basket - this one with towels and cleaning supplies for my bike. How's that for service!!! Charming little older place, with a huge tree in the central courtyard. This one gets an A+ for friendliness and charm. Thanks ladies.
I catch some beers and tunes on the main drag at a place called Capones. Someone tells me it was owned by Al Capone back in the day, and they go on to explain that there's even a secret tunnel in the basement, which Capone put there for fast getways from the Feds (hey, I say the movie too). Just as the band is winding down for the night, I overhear the lady next to me say to her buddy, "I told you before, I don't have seizures, I have fits." Interesting distinction, and I glance over to see the lady making the comment actually has a bit of a mustache and broad sholders - time to get out of this place while the getting's good!
Tomorrow's looking good - the map's showing a long line of "scenic route" dots running North for a couple of hundred miles on Highway 7, mostly through National Forest areas. Yeah baby, bring it on!. Day 3 - Hot Springs Arkansas to Clinton, Oklahoma 410 miles Highway 7 is to be my treat for today. My map shows it with plenty of "scenic" dots, and running North and slightly West for a couple of hundred miles. Even runs through a National Forest area for a while. Looks good to me - let's go. I have to wait almost 20 miles for the promise of the "Arkansas Scenic 7 Byway" to live up to its name.
I ride through Fountain Lake, Ozark Lithia, Mountain Valley, and Hot Springs Village, and although they are nice little towns, this is not what I was hoping for. I wanted nice roadway, no traffic, trees, streams, nature - you know what I mean. Instead, I get stop signs, gas stations, a Walmart or two (this is Arkansas, after all).
Finally I see the signs for the National Forest area, and everything changes instantly.
For the next 45 minutes I am treated to a beauty of a motorcycle road. I grin, sing, yell, you name it. See a few other bikers riding along - and they are all grinning too. After all, why not? It's a beautiful day, this is a A+ road, there's virtually no bugs, and not a truck in sight - barely a car for that matter. Before I hit the I-40 again, given I am not ready to jump into that mess, I take the 22 West. It's a nice road, definitely better than riding on the 40, and I can even make pretty good time (60 and 70, with the occasional stop for a small town).
Pass another town called Paris. I think that's the third one in 3 days. What's with this? I stop at a Starbucks as I come into Fort Smith, just before crossing into Oklahoma. Get a quick jolt of caffeine and air-conditioning. It's now about 1 PM and about 100 Farenheit. I'm starting to cook.   Pick up the dreaded I40 as I cross the bridge into Oklahoma. Somehow the temperature seems to have jumped another 20 degrees. Is this possible? After 2 or 30 miles I stop for gas, and slip inside the truck stop store to guzzle some cold water. When I open the door to walk back outside into the asphalt covered parking lot, I feel like I walked into Mike Tyson's fist. Holy shit!! I can't go out in this.... I go back in to the bathroom, soak my head under the tap, down an ice coffee, and brace myself. It's 160 more miles to Oklahoma City, and I am determined to get at least that far tonight. This is to be my biggest test so far. All that asphalt, all that heat, and a bunch more miles to go. I've come to the realization in the past couple of days that this is a big, big, big country. I've never lived very far away from either coast, and it seems I completely lost the perspective of how big the rest of the country is. It's not just "that part in the middle" - it's the whole country. Those thin slivers of coastline and like the paper-thin outer skin of an onion compared to this great big chunk of country between them. As I was coming in to Memphis yesterday, again in intense heat, I fantasized about just pulling over and calling it quits. After all, how simple it would be. I could drop my bike off at a dealer, call a shipping company, and simply get a cab to the airport. Voila, I'd be home in no time. So tempting. In my mind I was repacking my saddlebags and other luggage to switch to airplane mode. But my stubbornness won out again. I wasn't ready to call it quits - at least not yet. On we go. But today is another story. It's much hotter. I'm riding face-on, straight into the afternoon sun. My poor white Irish skin feels like it's cooking. After gritting my teeth for another hour, I see a lake to my left (Lake Eufaula) and decide to give up this tortuous race into the heat of the sun. I find a dirt road down to a boat landing. The place is deserted. I strip off some clothes, park under a tree and stretch out on the grass under another. Even then, completely motionless in the shade near the water, I have beads of sweat running off my face. I think I sleep for a while, but I've lost my concept of time. It's so fucking hot!! I realize it is going to get worse - I have the deserts of New Mexico, Arizona, and California yet to cross. The day time temperature often tops 115 degrees. I'm going to need a new strategy to make it. Riding westward directly into the mid-afternoon sun is not looking like a bright idea. By the time I finish my nap, it seems to have cooled off. The sun is definitely lower in the sky (about 6 pm).
I start riding. Have the earplugs on, and the throttle at about 75 mph. The temp keeps dropping, and before too long, it actually seems pleasant. What a relief! I can see Oklahoma City off on the horizon.
And then a small miracle - big fat cool raindrops are hitting me. I look up, and see a clear blue sky. I look to the right and left - more blue. How can this be? it's a miracle! I feel like the raindrops should be hissing me as they hit the hot red skin of my face and forehead. The temperature drops again. What a relief. Thank you! I decide to keep going to get in a few more miles before the end of the day. I even toy with the idea of riding till midnight or so, to take advantage of the cooler evening air. But decide to call it a night after a couple more hours, and pull over at Clinton, Arkansas. Clinton, like so many other towns in this part of the country touts its connection with history, sitting alongside Route 66, the famous "Great Mother Road." I pull into the Ramada Inn, and see quite a sight. There are a bunch of thirsty Irishmen standing beside their Harleys, looking very glum. They tell me they are on a guided tour, riding the historic Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles. The reason for their glumness? They tell me they are stranded here - in a dreaded dry county. My heart sinks - I was looking forward to cold beer. After I unload my gear in my room, I decide to put the last of my energy into solving this beer shortage problem. It doesn't look good. If 7 thirsty Irishmen on Harley's can't find beer, what can I possibly do? I tell them I'l' figure something out, and set off on my mission. I feel like I'm like one of the Knights of the Round Table, set off on a mission to save the Kingdom. Lo and behold, what do I see just a quarter mile down the road? A convenience store with a big sign outside: "Cold Beer" Yes!!! They are amazed, especially when I tell them the nearest store selling beer is right down the street. They are dumfounded, but each quickly take a beer and start chugging. I think I get it - why these guys didn't just go looking for their own beer, that is. They have been on a guided tour for the last 7 days, and have gotten so used to following directions, that they seem to have forgotten how to think for themselves. Oh well, their problem, not mine. I watch the 4th of July fireworks from the parking lot and call it a night early. I have a plan for tomorrow. I'm going to hit the road early in the morning and ride till about 1 pm or so, then hide for the hottest part of the day. I'll get my miles in early i the day and in the evening, and hide out for the hottest part of the day. Add Your CommentLogin to leave a comment. |
|
Click to enlarge
