We had a Lay Day today, which due to more rain was fortuitous, albeit it meant a day of damp sightseeing.
Gettysburg is unspectacular in so many ways, not as quaint or pretty as other small towns, in fact almost unmemorable, except that being the site of some of the most intense fighting of the American Civil War, it carries the burden of history, and the souls of the hundreds of thousands whose lives changed over the three days of fighting in July 1863. My morning started by leaving the hotel shortly after 530am, loaded with our laundry bag and a pocket full of coins, headed for Dolly’s (sounds like the name of a bar or house of ill repute, but alas, a large commercial laundry). As early as it was I was not first in the door - 3 local guys, seemingly occupants of a local sheltered workshop had things in full swing, and were as keen to ignore me as I was to be ignored. Having cranked things up, I wandered a short distance to a 24 hour diner (one of those fabulous places frequented by Jack Reacher) for a coffee and to pass the 34 minute wash cycle. A short time before the drier finished its work, Chucky arrived on a similar mission, and we chewed the fat, both pleased to have this chore in hand. We joined Doc and Barb (with Dave and Raewyn) in the big Chev Suburban down to Battlefield Harley Davidson - no two stores carry the same range of gear, and you just never know... From there, off to the Civil War Museum for a couple of hours of history, sad, sobering and almost unimaginable. The cost to what was a young nation was unbelievable- the price paid by the flower of its youth and in having the “guts” of the country torn apart is incalculable. The riding component of our 2019 epic from New Orleans to Washington draws to a close tomorrow as our destination from Gettysburg is Eaglerider to drop the bikes off. Some will depart quickly, others in dribs and drabs over the next few days after a day or two taking in the sights - perhaps we’ll manage to finagle an invitation to the White House for a BBQ on the back lawn... A bunch of us enjoyed dinner a short walk along the river from our hotel at what proved to be a very popular “Brew Bar”, with pizzas being the preferred option by most. Most of the other’s (except Chucky and Monnie who were celebrating their 34th wedding anniversary and understandably wanted so time alone), opted for the very nice Italian place next door. Mickey, who has a birthday in the next day or so depending on which time zone is being used, was presented with a tiramisu birthday cake - unfortunately none found its way next door.. I was awake between 11pm and 4am catching up on a bit of correspondence and reading, (and messages from home) and noted that the Wallabies had been beaten out of the Rugby World Cup Quarter finals by England, probably no surprises there. A little later (after I had finally fallen asleep), a few diehards met in the bar to watch the All Blacks beat recent nemesis Ireland resoundingly. The view over the river from our 11th floor window was not nearly as impressive this morning, with a heavy fog reducing visibility to almost zero, although it had lifted by the time we departed the hotel, albeit in less than tropical conditions (that we have learnt to live with), of between 3-6C... As we rode out of town I noted a thick layer of what appeared to be coal in a cutting, hardly surprising in coal rich West Virginia - I also noted (thanks to Doc’s warning) a couple of pot holes on the freeway - holes big enough to swallow the wheel of a Harley and cast pillions hither and yon, so best avoided. First stop was a scenic reserve that had been recommended, so a very pleasant short walk , then obligatory photos - this really is a beautiful area, at least at this time of year. I have no doubt that mid winter would be awful. Barb added a photo that visually portrays an example the extreme colours mentioned in days past - astounding. We had another zero mph tumble at a stop sign, just one of those things that happens, but fortunately no damage to bike or riders, other than perhaps a scolding by pillion to pilot. A quick stop to regroup and for coffee (and comfort) at another ubiquitous McDonalds shortly after crossing from West Virginia to Maryland - say what you like, they can be an oasis to weary, hungry, thirsty, desperate bikers. As usual, we drew the attention of locals, who were friendly, inquisitive and inevitably sent us of with a kid word and a blessing - God fearing people that they are. Another Harley dealer visited, this time in Cumberland, and my personal shopper found me a shirt and very flash hoodie, with a super soft, double lined neck gaiter to round out the deal - my wardrobe is now 95% HD branded - sweet! As has become his custom, Doc found us another fabulous diner (bearing in mind, most of these places have very little signage, and certainly don’t look like much from the road. The waitress was totally unphased by the Kiwi invasion, quickly and efficiently getting things underway - if she was in NZ, I’d offer her a high paying job. The icing on the cake was a sign across the road - Trump 2020! Another border crossed, out of Maryland and into Pennsylvania, and with it another subtle change in scenery- fewer of the grotty old houses with junk as garden ornaments, and more nice homes with freshly mowed two acre front lawns... We have arrived in Gettysburg, a lovely and hallowed spot - more to follow I was up and about reasonably early and retired to the library with my I pad to catch up on a few bits and pieces - the library being strategically located next to the as yet to open coffee shop. An hour later when it did open, the service was hopeless, the staff surly and unhelpful - it makes you wonder.
In absolutely direct contrast the staff in the dining room (breakfast) could not have been more pleasant or gracious, as was our waitress at dinner last night (a lovely Jamaican girl, a long way from home). At last night’s team meeting, in deference to what should have been a fairly short day, Doc very kindly extended our departure time from the usual 8:30 to 9:30, a real bonus for those night owls who find mornings difficult. Again, the forecast was for a cold morning but the sunny spell just before departure nearly fooled a couple who’d worked up a sweat loading bikes, etc, into removing a layer - once underway that would prove a big mistake. Into the hinterland of Virginia then Western Virginia, and a morning of spectacularly beautiful scenery, the painters palette of brilliant vivid reds, yellow, purples, browns and greens beyond description, even more so than in previous days. Wayne and Tina experienced a very close encounter with a deer that emerged from the bush, and ended up running beside them (at pace) - Wayne managed to divert it with a timely wave of his hand, and disaster averted. A bit further up the road we rounded a corned to find a tree trunk blocking most of our lane - fortunately everyone managed to avoid it, but not to have done so would have been lethal. We stopped in a wee town (actually just a cafe with an adjoining hairdresser, both for sale) called Durban, about as far removed from civilisation as you can get (no cell phone coverage), once a thriving community centred around the long since closed Pocahontas tannery. The young waitress quickly arranged coffee ($1.00) and tea ($0.80) for our mob of 18, certainly with more efficiency and personality than her peer at the much more salubrious venue earlier. I suggested that rather than cause the accountants in our midst angst that we settle on $1.00 each for everything, with a decent tip to make it all worthwhile, and so it was. In addition to the menu items, perhaps a little unusually for a diner, they also stocked a range of Remington ammunition- always handy to know. Our resident “Trainspotters “ hit the jackpot - as well as the few gems of rolling stock about, they came across a steam engine - talk about as excited as 8 year old boys! So, another absolutely stunning day on the bikes, scenery that defies description, great roads, great company. We have now arrived in Morgantown and I’ll soon check out what this place is famous for, but based on the conference in progress in the hotel relating to drug abuse in the community p, I suspect Hillbilly Heroin may be a problem. Weather man Mike had advised that the word for today would be “Cold”, in fact, beyond cold, freezing, real Brass Monkeys, and so it was.
As we geared up the bikes the sun made a tepid appearance and there was some temptation to remove a layer, but fortunately prudence came to the fore and once under way, regardless of how many layers, (and there were many), each of us had on, another would have been appreciated. Whilst manoeuvring in the car park prior to departure one of our number took a slow speed tumble, the one place slightly top heavy Harley’s have difficulties, but thanks to the prompt actions of Nev and Yvonne the situation was quickly resolved without too much drama. After a fast 50 miles on the freeway our first stop was at Black Bear Harley - the arrival of 18 Kiwis most excitement they’ve had on a Thursday morning for a long time. They lwere extremely welcoming and keep the coffee pot full even though most of us have exhausted the need for any more T shirts, etc. Unfortunately the team who packed Barbs won this morning didn’t make an overly good job and as a consequence the back door opened and at a very inopportune moment on a freeway on-ramp , with the box of booze and a bag falling out. Unable to stop, Barb had to find the exit then return, a stressful business but fortunately a couple of nice young guys had cleaned up the mess, recovered the bag that had bounced along the road so everything worked out alright. Today’s ride was the usual mixture of fast interstate through to quiet backroads and the opportunity to see the real local scene and is so often the case, the poverty that is so prevalent in the hinterland. Run down trailer homes semi hidden by bush, dark, dreary and devoid of any sunlight, each with its own sizeable collection of derelict old cars and trucks as garden ornaments, rotting away year on year. In contrast, Destination for the day was the Omni Hotel in Hot Springs Virginia, literally in the middle of nowhere, but absolutely huge, impressive and imposing. Unfortunately a bunch of roughies arriving on Harley’s didn’t appear to meet with the approval of the staff used to making tips from valet parking, nor when we opted to forgo the $10 per bag (plus tip) handling charge for our luggage - talk and getting the “poo on the bottom of the shoe” treatment. Not to worry, those who were quick enough managed to score tea and scones in the very grand entrance hall to the accompaniment of a cellist, all very civilised. A very impressive hotel - we might get used to this! As predicted we awoke to rain, a little at first and then more, a lot more, but no surprises there. My morning started reasonably well, having decided to get the bike unlocked and prepared, then to forgo breakfast in the hotel (rather than the traditional buffet we’re used to, they had a Starbucks which was proving less than convenient), and wandered next door to what could best be described as a “Hillbilly general store / diner”. There were 3 generations of the same family working there (including a boisterous baby in a kiddy cage), and without wishing to appear unkind, perhaps evidence that procreation within a tight gene pool is usually not a good thing. Not to worry, the coffee was ok, and it was an experience. Back to the room to pack, then as the bags were loaded into Barbs wagon, I realised I could not find my keys - dramas, searching, retracing steps, unloading the van, etc - eventually found, phew, winner of “Dickhead of the day”. Being prepared and dressed for rain was one thing, but over the next hour what had started as a lovely if slightly cautious ride through more of the windy Smokey Mountains became more challenging, as a heavy mist added to the mix bringing visibility down to almost zero. The conditions really were extremely challenging and I soon dispensed with my visor, then my glasses, relying on “naked eyeball” in an effort to see. As the day progressed and the rain died away we had wet leaves to factor into the mix, but those are the hazards we endure, and no reason to back off too much. It is easy to see how, when shrouded in mist the Smokey Mountains earned this name, and as described by Mike C, “eerily beautiful “. First stop of the day brought us to rest area near a herd of elk, close and unconcerned, (a stag was sufficiently unperturbed to half heartedly attempt to exert his proprietary rights with one of the females but because she was busy eating, his advances were rejected). Back on the bikes, more miles and from Kentucky into North Carolina for coffee at Maggie Valley, new rain gear for Nev from a well stocked “Mom & Pop” motorcycle accessories store, and gas. This area is famous with motorcyclists who travel from far and wide with rides known as “The tail of the Dragon”, and “The Rattler”. Countless videos have been made, and many a foolhardy biker found wanting testing their skills over these technical rides and ending up dead, but other than for a brief spell late afternoon, today didn’t present the opportunity to do much other than concentrate on staying out of trouble. Our lunch stop proved to be another gold nugget of a country diner, in fact “The Smokey Mountain Diner”, still in North Carolina, run by a bunch of very friendly and efficient ladies who served up really great food (my burger came with apple and blackberry cobbler - hmmm). The next leg provided an opportunity to give the bikes a bit more of a run, while being ever mindful of still damp corners and wet leaves. The scenery provided everything you’d expect in Appalachia, hamlets of “Hillbilly’s”, wrecked cars and tumble down trailer homes in poor repair, to some quite spectacular and well presented estates. I was especially drawn to the many old barns, many over 200 years old, the first building on every farm, some still standing, crooked with the weariness of age and many harsh winters, others collapsed having eventually succumbed as all things must. Our hotel for the night is a famous rambling old establishment in Virginia, with links all the way back to Martha Washington (wife of George), a quaint and creaky place, and quite a pleasant contrast to the generic places we usually stay. Tomorrow, another destination named “Hot Springs” (the second of our tour), in Virginia, with a bitterly cold day forecast. Back on the bikes after two nights in Nashville, and pleased to be underway again. One downside to staying in the inner city is the inevitable scrum involved on the freeway out of town, but at 70-80 mph (112-130kph) it does not take too long. You know it is time to speed up when an 18 wheeler truck and trailer passes you (sometimes a little too close) at 80mph. We have had a mascot accompany us on each tour, a squirrel we bought many years ago, who added characters to whichever bike we were riding over many thousands of miles. Unfortunately at one of our overnight stops someone stole him, so for the past few days we’ve been both getting over the loss and deciding what to do about a replacement. Having rummaged through gift shops aplenty to no avail, our new talisman , an eagle, found us by chance, and now graces our bike. First coffee stop was another “in the middle of nowhere” country “supermarket” - coffee and various off the shelf non prescription medicines for those with sniffles and various other ailments. Rumour has it that one or two inveterate gamblers may have invested in Tennessee lottery tickets ($80 million from memory). Lovely riding on what was a slightly dreary and overcast day, with everything from 10 lane freeways to narrow country roads, with a magnificent last leg on brand newly sealed roads through the Smoky Mountains. In 20 odd miles I did not notice a single blemish - oh for a surface like that at home! Lunch (it actually started as a “pit stop”) at McDonalds in Harriman, then through to Smokey Mountain Harley Davidson, probably the best stocked dealer we’ve come across on tour - needless to say, plenty spent, but mainly on anything other than T shirts. The old codgers in rocking chairs on the porch outside the dealership saw us roar past and knew that we’d soon be back, and chuckled at our expense when this prediction came to pass. Back to the road up to Gatlinburg - it follows a lovey river that inevitably becomes a torrent with a bit of rain, but not today. Because it is autumn (or “Fall”), the colours cross the spectrum, mostly shades of green with leaves turning yellow or red, with browns thrown in for good measure, all the time adding to the tranquility of the river. Quite magnificent and certainly worth stopping to admire. Like so many other places, The Smokey Mountains featured strongly during the tragedy of the American Civil War, but are probably better known nowadays as the birthplace of Dolly Parton (and now, Dollywood!). Entering Gatlinburg was to experience shades of the commercialism seen in Queenstown, certainly not what I expected, gift shops, anything geared towards the tourists. As usual our accomodation for the night is very satisfactory and an indication of the hard work put in behind the scenes. A lay day in Nashville, an opportunity to scratch around and find enough quarters to do laundry (8 each for washing machine and dryer, so quite a mission, especially when repeated by others in our group, and despite the lack of assistance from front desk), and a lie in for those who enjoy such things. Despite being unable to sleep and engrossed in a good book between 11pm and 3-30am, I was keen and ready for breakfast at 8.
Some headed out the the Jack Daniels Distillery in Lynchburg Kentucky, others a more leisurely day of post laundry sightseeing, the Johnny Cash Museum, Hop on Hop Off bus tour, and fooling around in any of the many Boot stores found on Broadway (buy one pair, get two pairs free being the deal generating most interest). Whilst interest was initially intense, with matching pairs of USA themed cowboy boots being actively promoted, wiser heads (respective wives) prevailed, and the moment passed (phew). Nashville is another town that obviously enjoys hordes of tourists from near and far, but is also a regional base for some fairly heavy hitters including Goodyear, Caterpillar Finance and AT&T, as well as being centre of the universe for the Country Music scene, the extent of which surprised me. We chose not to join a two hour “around the block line” outside a very highly rated fried chicken joint instead opting for a quiet lunch for two at the best table in Merchants Restaurant where we could watch the world go by and in air conditioned splendour while we did so. Highlight of the day was a brief late afternoon nana nap! Tonight, team meeting shortly whilst enjoying a drink at the bar, then back onto the streets to join a queue for dinner somewhere. As forecast there was more than a chill in the air this morning with bikes covered in a heavy dew - I wandered out just after daybreak in my shorts and T shirt to wipe ours down and ended up talking to a lady (and her Labrador), both of whom were very interested in proceedings. Whilst she was wrapped up in her winters finest, neither dog nor I were too worried.
After breakfast (and Japan famously beating Scotland 28-21) everyone rugged up for 8:45 departure determined not to freeze - layer upon layer and after yesterday’s lesson, even I resorted to an extra hoodie- just as well. In addition I wore the new winter gloves I bought a few days ago from the outdoor emporium in Memphis - toasty. Our first leg ended at “Land between the Lakes”, a lovely spot and more importantly, sunny. Some of us took the opportunity it visit and a couple of jokers couldn’t resist the buffalo hats... Next stop half an hour down the road was a wee hamlet named Devon (and we never know in advance quite what we’re going to find). Basically the “township” comprised a simple gas station / convenience store, and very little else, other than a few hillbillies sitting on the porch (seriously), watching as the world passed by. Whilst we initially wanted coffee and “rest rooms”, because the smell was so good, few left without a piece of fried chicken (or two), with rave reviews being the order of the day...unfortunately as we were leaving, I noticed the cook (a very hard scrabble woman) sucking on a cigarette just outside the door. Onwards and into the hinterland of Kentucky, main roads becoming secondary then back roads, then very narrow country roads, all the time through magnificent scenery, and into areas that must have remained the same since the Civil War played such a prominent part in the early 1860’s. Over 600,000 men made the ultimate sacrifice (16 million adjusted to today’s population), sometimes seeing virtually every male from a township wiped out (because brothers, cousins and townsfolk all joined the same regiment), just unbelievable that it could happen. Many of us were wondering if our intended route was going to end up in “Deliverance County”, banjos on the porch, etc, but other than a temporary stop to extract someone who’d got a little close to the scenery and ended up slightly humbled, (no names), we enjoyed the adventure- more of the “Real Kentucky “ that few are ever privileged to experience. Dickson for Lunch (another town with strong links to the Civil War), with everyone ending up at a quite unusual Japanese restaurant- far more Chinese in reality, but huge meals, ($19 for two including drinks), and no problems catering for our large group. Last transit stop of the day, after a fairly hairy ride on the freeway where at one point a truck nearly took out a brace of us, was Boswell’s Ring of Fire Harley Davidson - all sorts of guesses as to how that came to be. More T shirts, more bling, then back onto the freeway, this time up to 7 lanes wide (so 14 in total, both ways) for the final push into Nashville for a 2 night stopover. After over a week of 20C plus temperatures, (even over night), this morning provided a stark contrast - anywhere between 6C- 12C depending on who was telling the story, but the day was fairly clear and the forecast free of any rain.
That being the case, gone were the bare sleeves of each previous morning, instead layers were the order of the day, and the more the better. Whilst the sun eventually did appear, it brought little warmth until much later, a constant reminder to those who’d erred on the side of optimism of their poor choices (and this included me). Leaving the tourist area of Memphis was to be quickly jolted back to earth - like many other notable cities, a block from the action is to land fair and square into the hardship and squalor faced by the dispossessed, those damaged and desperate souls who for whatever reason don’t fit in anywhere else. Neville led us to a nearby Exxon station, thankfully for those whose fuel lights were indicating below empty, and then we were off, bound for Paducah, Kentucky. Coffee stop at Ripley, another one of these very pretty and extremely tidy wee towns, (in direct contrast to most which can be quite depressing), with the town hall surrounds decked out with dressed up figures, and music from Casey Kasum’s Top Forty from the 70’s & 80’s played through discrete speakers all around town. Apparently there was once a problem with bored young people making a nuisance of themselves in the town square, but some clever bugger came up with the idea of playing music they hate and it worked... A local cop pulled over a chatted to us (while we were on foot) - he’d just finished running the plates of our bikes to check if we were bad buggers, but alas, not the Comanchero’s, Del Fuego’s or Wild Hogs, just tourists from afar. We all trooped into Kissell’s Kitchen, a desperate pit stop for those who were busting, then coffee and a late breakfast for some. These old diners are great. From there we made for Abernathy’s Harley Davidson in Union City, (once the home of a large but now defunct Goodyear Tire plant) and we were again afforded a warm welcome - initially by a bunch of old codgers in funny hats fundraising by way of bbq in the car park (a delightful smell greeted us). They were “Shriners”, by all accounts an off shoot of Freemasons, who fund raise for local hospitals- strange but worthy, and great hotdogs! Whilst the did well out of us, them seemed to be their own best customers, more a social thing than anything else. As usual, T shirts and bling, and against every rule in the “what can be put in Barb’s wagon”, a couple of windscreens and an outrageous set of ape hangers (by my standards anyway)... because the sheriff was an offender I suspect there will be no fines... We have arrived in Panducah Kentucky, a bustling town of about 20000 on the confluence of the Tennessee and Ohio rivers - like most places, because we are on a schedule, we’ll probably not see much other than anything on the route out of town in the morning. Tomorrow, Nashville This morning we woke to rain, heavy and persistent, enough fill the shoes and thoroughly soak those prepared to dash from canopy to canopy, so we were thankful that today was a lay day in Memphis. The temperature dropped from 22c to 12c in a matter of hours, perhaps a precursor of what may be to follow.
Some of our number headed to oddly named Bumfus Harley Davidson, (for goodness sake, surely Memphis Harley Davidson would carry more gravitas than “Bumfus” ), others the Elvis’s Graceland, but we opted to stay local and visit a general store, A Schwarb & Co, established in 1876, handily located just around the corner and yet another treasure trove of history. Want a now very un PC sling shot, a “pop gun” or spud gun”, a kit set balsa aeroplane or other toys from the 40’s or 50’s, (or earlier), then A Schwartz & Co wasn’t going to disappoint. We spent 2 hours there without any problem, leaving having ensured their survival for a week or two longer. From there, off to Bass Pro Shop with Barb and Doc, a glass pyramid of biblical proportions, apparently built as a stadium that would host basketball and thrive, but ended as another broken dream. Now a Mecca for any thing an outdoor sportsman could ever imagine and more, hunting (need a 50 cal Barrett snipers rifle, a pink stock 22 cal for Mrs Cletus, or a $50,000 hand engraved Beretta shotgun for the slightly better heeled), any one of 100,000 fishing rods and reels, a $100,000 bass boat, a 100mph quad bike, a deer stand or a pair of woolly camouflage socks, you name it, it’s there somewhere. Want to stay in house and enjoy the experience over a period of days? Not a problem, hotel rooms decked out as hunting lodges seeming hang from the rafters - in my view, and perhaps sacrilegious in the eyes of some, far more interesting than pink Cadillacs or a house where someone famous once lived and died. Dinner tonight was at BB Kings Blues Club, the most famous, most popular and with out any doubt, the best Blues club anywhere in the world. As you’d expect, a fabulous place, loud and scruffy (an old codger in the dunny serving up paper towels and hand soap for tips). The house band comprised 8 black guys, all talented and hardened professionals, a horn, sax, guitars, drums, keyboards, even the flash Harry in a gold sequin jacket acting as a teasing pony rarking up the crowd. It took someone far more sensible than I to lead me back to the room at a reasonable hour - left to my own devices I’d forget that tomorrow is another day on the road and I’d stay until closing. Having said that, I guided my dear, long suffering and very surprised wife onto the dance floor for “Tennessee Whiskey” before departing the building.... |
Don MalcolmA perfect day involves being on my Harley with a long ride ahead.
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