I lingered in Moab for a few hours last night until the sun had gone down as it had become quite hot in Utah’s canyon country. Once the cool of the evening had settled in, I made the short 60 miles dash back to the freeway and Green River, where I camped out at Green River State Park. Today was my earliest start yet. I usually up with the sun when I’m camping out, but this morning, I awoke before the sun around 5 am. Knowing I wouldn’t get back to sleep again, I decided to get up and grab a quick shower before the bathroom got too crowded. I wasn’t the only one up this early as one of the two shower stalls was already occupied. Water conservation is important in this part of Utah, and here at the state park, to facilitate this, the showers had a single button that when pressed, gave you about 2 minutes of water. The idea being that you would get your self wet and then lather up. If the water shuts off, no matter because in theory you are moist enough to continue cleaning. Once you are done sudsing, you push the button again and rinse off while the water is running. You haven’t wasted any water and yet you are clean. Frankly all of us should probably taking this kind of efficient shower. Of course if two minutes isn’t enough for you to get the soap out of all the nooks and crannies then push the button again.

I followed the above procedure and like clockwork the water shut off in mid lather. I had just finished putting the shampoo in my hair and there I stood wet and soapy when a disembodied voice came drifting over the wall from the other stall.

DV: “So, who am I showering with this morning?”

Oh come on…Seriously? My day just began and already it’s starting.

I was silent for a few seconds hoping he wasn’t talking to me. What to do? What to do?

I know, push the button. Push the button now!

DV: “Hello?”

Not fast enough, damn. I pushed the button anyway hoping the noise of the water would curtail and conversation.

WS: “umm… no one you know.”

He spoke up so he could be heard above the sound of the water.

DV: “What, who did you say?”

WS: “A complete and total stranger!”

This time I spoke up, maybe a little too loudly. He responded, louder still.

DV: “You’re not with the cycling group?”

WS: “No, I’m not with the cycling group!”

DV: “Well you’re up early. I thought we would be the only ones up at this hour.”

Dude, this is not cool. Don’t talk to strangers when they they’re in the shower. It’s like striking up a conversation with a guy standing next to you at the urinal. It’s just one of those unwritten rules that everybody knows about. I mean, I have soap in my eyes right now, I’m feeling kind of vulnerable.

WS: “I’m in a hurry to get an early start to my day.”

Silence from the other stall for the moment. Maybe he finally took the hint.

DV: “Are you the guy on the motorcycle? I saw you come in late last night.”

Unbelievable.

WS: “Yeah, and I’ve got lots of miles to cover today. Nice talking to you though.”

I said that with the kind of inflection that indicates an end to the conversation. Apparently that inflection was drowned out by the hissing from the shower head.

DV: “Where you headed to?”

WS: “West”

DV: “We’re headed into Moab today.”

Didn’t ask.

More blessed silence as I quickly rinsed off. And then the shower stopped.

DV: “Well have a safe trip.”

Although I was rinsed from head to toe, I pushed the button again.

WR: “Thanks”

I pushed the button a few more times to make sure Elvis had left the building and then I toweled off, got dressed and got out of there.

Yes I know I’m supposed to engage more people in conversation but this was above and beyond the call of duty. Sorry folks, at no point am I going to delve deep with a stranger while standing in the shower stall. You are never going to hear me say “hey buddy, I’m on a cross country motorcycle trip and I’m committed to meeting new people so while I’m cleansing my nether region do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions then blog about it later? The folks back home would get a big kick out of it.”

It’s just not going to happen, I have to draw the line somewhere.

I escaped the state park under cover of darkness, but after stopping to fill the tank I merged on to I-70 west bound just as the sun was peaking over the hills behind me. It was nice to be out on the empty highway. The earliness of the hour helped but in truth there simply isn’t a lot of traffic on this section of the interstate at any given hour. I did pass three brand new fire trucks caravaning west. As I rode by I noticed they all said Honolulu Fire Department on them. Now that, I’m sure, is a cool story. Why don’t those people ever talk to me? Unfortunately we were like two ships that pass in the night. Well four ships that pass at dawn, all going in the same direction, where one of the ships is nimble and fast, more like a jet ski really and the other three ships are lumbering freighters. And with a twist of the wrist, they were behind me, quickly swallowed up by the orange glow that was chasing me across this desert.

There is not lot to see out here but what is here is amazing. In fact, although looking completely different from the evergreen forests and mountain summits of Colorado, I’d argue that this section of I-70 is just as scenic as Glenwood Canyon or the area around Loveland Pass and the Eisenhower tunnel. Barren reddish orange sandstone mesas, fins, and spires, surrounded me. Here and there the highway cuts through a canyon, with its geologic history on display. Instead of igneous and metamorphic rock covered by towering Douglas Firs, I’m faced with Kayenta and Navajo Sandstone dotted with lowly junipers. Soon, on the horizon, one formation begins to dominate them all. A line of uplifted rocks that travels north and south blocks like a road block of stone. And the interstate, showing no pause, headed right for it.

The San Rafael Swell is a large geologic feature that is roughly 70 miles long and 35 miles wide.The swell formed about 60 million years ago, when rocks deep below the surface faulted and lifted taking with it the layers of rock that laid on top raising them thousands of feet above the surround land, creating a dome like shape. Millions of years of water erosion has created deep gorges, butte’s, fins and arches. Archaeological evidence, including pictographs indicate that Native Americans have been traversing this specific formation for hundreds of years and it may have been a spiritual place for them..

It is bisected by only one paved road, Interstate 70 and otherwise remains a remote and alien landscape. So alien in fact that the Mars Society, a group advocating manned missions to Mars, has placed a research station in the swell, and uses it for training exercises. I believe it is currently being considered for National Monument Status. Certainly it rivals many national parks for scenic beauty, geologic, and historic significance.

The Swell was, well, swell, but it was still early when I finished crossing it and connected with Interstate 15. I turned north an proceeded onto Salt Lake City. SLC was supposed to be my destination, but because of my early start, I arrived around noon. With no plans of points of interest to explore, I decided to continue westward on I-80. I selected Wendover, UT as my new destination, skirted the souther shore of the the Great Salt Lake, and rocketed across the salt flats. The temperature continued to climb and just as I arrived in Wendover it topped 95 degrees. I decided to treat myself to an air conditioned motel room on the edge of town, and on the edge of this desert.

West of Green River

The Swell and Seventy

Looming

Mooning

Great Salt Lake

Salt Flats

I don't know why they thought this would make a great action flick

Rocketing toward Wendover

Not much to report today as it was a layover for me. I stayed with my good friend Laurie in Denver last night and tonight and aside from venturing out and getting some with lunch with her today, I stayed in and worked on the blog. Tonight we sat around and watched first season episodes of News Radio on Hulu, since Laurie doesn’t have cable TV. No TV?!?!? Oh well, At least I won’t be distracted and I’ll be able to get lots of blogging done. Type type type… is this the episode where they have the rat infestation? That’s a funny one…

Day 35

Once again, another early start for me. I was ready to attack the Rocky Mountains and I followed Interstate 70 out of Denver and up into the clouds. Today started out as one of the best riding days yet. It was clear and sunny but cool, cool enough to feel comfortable wearing all the protective gear, an unusual occurrence on this trip. Today also marked one of the few times on this adventure where my focus today was the highway itself. Interstate 70 in the Rockies not only has the distinction of containing the highest point on the entire interstate system, but also as being the last section of the original plans to be completed.

First up, Eisenhower Tunnel. Touted as an engineering marvel, the Eisenhower Johnson Memorial Tunnel itself holds two distinctions: it is the highest point on the interstate system, and it is the highest automobile tunnel in the world. (There is a higher tunnel in China, but it only carries trains.) At a maximum elevation of 11,158 feet high I was expecting something grand as I approached it, but it was just a tunnel. Maybe the real engineering marvel is that there is an interstate west of Denver at all.

As early as the 1939 the federal government was working on a plan for “Interregional Roads” (Later called Interstates) connecting the country. The illustrative maps for this plan all showed an interstate from the east terminating in Denver. To travel west from Denver would require heading north to Wyoming and then west to Utah, or heading south to New Mexico, and then west into Arizona. Needless to say, (and yet I’m going to say it) the government of Colorado was none too pleased and lobbied hard for their own west bound interstate out of Denver. In addition to getting support for this idea from the federal government, Colorado also needed to negotiate with Utah on an alignment. It was not until 1954 when Utah and Colorado agreed upon a destination of Spanish Fork. (just south of Salt Lake City) Here the westbound interstate would connect with a north/south interstate briefly before intersecting with an already planned westbound interstate across northern Nevada. Of course the Federal Government had other ideas and directed that the route in Utah connect with the north south route near Cove Fort. (the ‘road to nowhere’ as some called it at the time) The Fed’s reasoning? This would improve transportation between Denver and the “strategically” important southern California region. This caused some grumbling within the Utah State government but eventually they got on board and Voila, Denver had its westbound interstate.

Of course some of the Fed’s initial resistance to a westbound freeway was the challenge the Rocky mountains presented. It wasn’t going to be easy. Which is why the idea of a tunnel under the continental divide was first suggested. Otherwise, to get over mountains would require building over Loveland pass at 11,990 feet. The real concern was not the elevation itself but getting there instead. The engineers agreed that getting over Loveland pass utilizing the strict building standards of the interstate was going to be nearly impossible. Their solution, a tunnel.

Of course all this makes great back story only if I had B-roll of the tunnel itself, but alas, there was no where to pull off and get a picture. There was always the shoulder and an area for Haz-Mat trucks to wait, but the warning signs indicating ‘Commercial Traffic Only’ dissuaded me and I simply rode through. I was further shortchanged when I crossed the Continental Divide in the middle of the tunnel. Again, no where to stop for a photo op. Bummer!

Firsts, when it comes to the interstate are hard to pin down. Both Missouri and Kansas, for various reasons, lay claim to the first interstate, and of course Pennsylvania claims that the Turnpike was the first interstate while Nebraska claims to be the first state to complete its main interstate (I-80 in 1974). But the claim of last interstate is a little more concrete. A 12 mile section of I-70 through an area known as Glenwood Canyon was the last section of the originally designed 40,000 mile system to be completed. I suppose that one is a little slippery to hold on to as well since, the truth is, new interstates are being built all the time (refer to day 27) and supposedly there are still two short sections of the original plan left unfinished. Still, I’ll give Colorado this one and let it claim the last section of pavement laid down as provisioned in the Federal Highway Act as signed by President Eisenhower on June 29^th 1956. So when was the largest public works project in the history of the world finished? October 14^th 1992. Yes I was surprised by that as well and I did note it was completed about a year after I-90 through Wallace Idaho.

Construction started in the early 60′s but was slowed by environmental concerns. This necessitated the scrapping of the original plans and a new approach, considered more environmentally sensitive, was developed. In addition the environmental impact, geography added to the challenges. Like Loveland Pass, building to interstate standards was difficult in the narrow canyon. Hence the reason construction took 30 years and cost 490 million dollars (equivalent to 800 million today). It isn’t the costliest interstate project in the US however, that distinction goes to Boston’s Big Dig, in case you were curious.

Was it worth it? I have to say, this canyon is amazing to ride through. It is considered by some to be the most scenic section along the whole of the interstate system, but don’t be fooled, the whole length of I-70 as it passes over the Rocky Mountains is spectacular. Colorado is proud of what it achieved here, however. Only 12 miles long, the canyon boasts 4 rest areas where travelers like myself can admire not only the scenic beauty, but the engineering marvel of the interstate itself since each rest area has interpretive signs explaining the process that went into designing this section of freeway.

I guess they do have a right to brag. The design of Interstate 70 through the canyon has won 30 different awards including the 1993 title of Outstanding Civil Engineering Achievement awarded by the American Society of Civil Engineers at their annual black tie gala. (demented and sad, but social) One of the architects involved in the design even suggested that sections of the freeway achieved the level of public art. I’m a roadfan so I’m not one to disagree.

After my lengthy stay in Glenwood canyon, it was time to motor on to Green River, Utah where I planned to stop for the night. I did allow myself another detour off the interstate shortly after I crossed into Utah and made a quick run south to Moab, on UT128. I figure the pictures will explain why.

Glenwood Canyon and Colorado River

I-70 above the canyon

Hanging Lake area looking East

Hanging Lake area looking West

Hanging Lake Twin Tunnels

Glenwood Canyon Western Entrance

Utah 128

UT 128 North of Moab

Eager to get rolling I left Lawrence early. My first planned stop was in Kearney, and I had about an hour and a half of driving the backroads before I intersected Interstate 80. Like my earlier ride through Kansas, the roads were flat and straight, which means I made good time. As good as I could expect to make if I were on a freeway. One thing about these country roads that is different however, is the fact that everyone who passes you going in the opposite direction gives a a very friendly wave. Also interesting is that just about everyone who passes you going in the opposite direction is driving a Ford Truck. There might be some correlation between the two or it just might be due to the fact that I was in farm country. Either way it made for a pleasant ride.

My first stop for the day was the Great Platte River Road Archway Monument in Kearney. (Featured in the Jack Nicholson movie ‘About Schmidt’) It’s a museum to the fact that the Platte River and the surrounding area has been a transportation corridor for hundreds of years. The Mormon, California, Oregon and Pony Express trails all converged near here. Furthermore, the first transcontinental telegraph, transcontinental railroad, transcontinental highway (the Lincoln Highway) and transcontinental interstate all passed right through this area. The Archway is built over Interstate 80 in fact.

So why did all these trails and roads come together here? One quick look around and I can see why. This area is flat. Although I would never characterize what the pioneers faced as easy, it is fair to say that it was easier passing through here than it is going over the mountains. Couple that with Platte River that served animal migration and Native American travel as well, and it makes sense that just about every one heading west went right through here. The focus is mostly about westward expansion and rightly so. Back in the 1800′s this area of Nebraska was the frontier. And if not for the Pioneers who made their way out west and made a life for themselves out there, there would be no need for a telegraph, a railroad, a road or, eventually, an interstate. I’ve been here once before, on my honeymoon, and at the time I was planning this adventure, and when I saw the exhibits here I knew I had to come back and write about this place. Essentially it is the culmination of this adventure, a place where American history, backroads, and the interstate all come together. However it can’t be the culmination since I still have two more weeks on the road, and the truth is there are many places where history, backroads and the interstate come together. Few of them have a snazzy museum at the center though.

The best part, the museum does a good and fun job of telling the story. There are life size dioramas, movies, special effects, narration (via wireless headsets), authentic artifacts, and live actors in period costumes. You begin by joining a wagon train and progress through exhibits on the Oregon and Mormon trails, the Pony Express, and the building of the the transcontinental railroad. You finish with the creation of the Lincoln Highway and Interstate 80. In fact you stand over the interstate as cars a trucks pass beneath you. All the while you are guided by pioneers, planners, and visionaries who helped develop this nation, and all in their own words. In short, this place is awesome. It will appeal to those who are interested in history, and those interested in entertainment. I highly recommend a stop here if you are in the area.

Sadly it was soon time for me to leave the area and, like the pioneers featured at the Arch, make my own way west. I did make one short side trip down the Lincoln Highway (US 30) to a spot that was known as Watson’s Ranch or the 1733 Ranch because, for a number of years, a barn sat here with a painted sign indicating that you were exactly 1733 miles from San Francisco, and 1733 miles from Boston. Like in Lebanon, I was at the center, again. A quick picture and then it was back to I-80 and my next stop, Gothenburg.

In January of 1860 William Russell, Alexander Majors, and William Waddell operated a major freight company and had contracts with the US Government to deliver army supplies to outposts along the western frontier. Believing they could also secure a government contract for delivering the mail they set about creating a fast mail service between St. Joseph, Missouri and Sacramento, California. By utilizing a series of riders who would travel between stations spaced about 10 miles apart (where they would pick up fresh horses), Russell, Majors and Waddell, advertised delivery of the mail in 10 days, an unheard of amount of time. It helped that the riders they hired were small, wiry, and only allowed to weigh 120lbs.

On April 3^rd 1860, the first rider of the newly formed Central Overland California and Pikes Peak Express Company left St. Joseph Missouri after much fanfare and speeches. Interestingly, Waddell and Majors both gave speeches indicating that this enterprise was a precursor to the transcontinental railroad, that someday would pass through area. On the same day in San Francisco, a similar celebration took place as the first eastbound rider left the city. Both the eastbound and westbound mail reached their respective cities, St. Joesph, and San Francisco, on April 14th in the promised amount of ten days. Again, there was much rejoicing. The riders, the organizers, and the nation agreed, the Pony Express was a rousing success!

Except it wasn’t. For as much romanticizing and mythologizing as has gone on in the last 150 years regarding the Pony Express, it was a failure. Yes it achieved the goal of quick mail transport linking the east and west coasts in as little as 10 days. But it failed to turn a profit, it failed to earn a government contract and it failed to last longer than 18 months. Alright maybe that last one is unfair. It’s true the Pony Express lasted only 18 months, and I don’t want to say it was obsolete before it even started but the truth was, almost immediately after its start, work began on a transcontinental telegraph line (which followed a similar route to the pony express). Most people along the Pony Express route anticipated the telegraph and the railroad even as they celebrated the Express riders. The C.O.C.&P.P. Express closed on October 26^th 1861 exactly two days after the first transcontinental telegraph line was completed. The first transcontinental telegraph was itself replaced eight years later with a multi-line telegraph built during construction of the first transcontinental railroad which was completed in May of 1869. (again following a similar route as the pony express, at least in parts of Nebraska and Wyoming)

Still the legend of the Pony Express endures. Which is why I stopped in Gothenburg Nebraska today. In their town park is a Pony Express station…I think. There is some debate regarding the authenticity of the the structure. Let me clarify, there is no debate that the structure was built around 1854, the debate is whether or not it was actually a Pony Express station. As I entered the building I was greeted by a very friendly man who asked me where I was from and asked me to sign in. This place was small, and no doubt run by volunteers. The guy behind the counter was probably just a fan of the history of the Pony Express and worked here because of his passion. I looked around for about 30 seconds, (I did mention this place is very small didn’t I?) and then decided to strike up a conversation with the guy. Please note this is the first time during this adventure I was attempting to start a discussion. Up until this moment, I hadn’t initiated any of my interactions, so this was me just being friendly.

BF: “I read there is some debate whether or not this was an actual pony express station.”

(Immediately on the defensive) PV: “Where did you read that?”

BF: “I think I read it in the auto tour guide book.”

PV: “I wish they wouldn’t print stuff like that.”

(They being the National Park Service, by the way)

PV: “No there is no debate. It really was a Pony Express station. But some people want to create controversy, so they can sell a few books. This one here confirms it was a station, and so does this one. (He pointed to two books on the shelf near the counter) But this one, lets see where is it, (thumbing through a third book) this one says it may not have been a station. Let’s see, I should really look this page up before I go talking about it huh? Ah here we go, right here it says it was on the Smith ranch before it was moved to the Williams ranch. I’ve never heard that before. We know it was east of Fort McPherson and then moved to the Williams ranch and in 1931 it was donated to the town and moved here to the park. Oh hi folks, Where are you from? Feel free to look around and please sign the guest book. I kind of wish we didn’t have to sell this book. It just confuses people. Look here, here is a picture that shows when it was a two story building. And you can see where they added the support and raised the roof. (he pointed to a section of the ceiling) And people say that was when it was a station, the horses were stabled in the lower part and the riders slept upstairs, but it wasn’t even a two story building until 1864, you see? So that’s wrong. It was a single story when Machette built it and used as a fur trading post at first. He was a blacksmith and used to service Russell, Majors, and Waddell’s wagons for their freight company, so it makes sense that they would use his building as a station when they started the Pony Express. Of course they’re were other ranchers’ buildings up there at the time so its hard to say, and no one knows for sure, but we believe that it is authentic. Hi folks, where are you from? But I guess you can’t be sure, you see?”

By now two couples had entered the small building and I took my opportunity to exit.

BF: “Thanks for clearing that up, I think I’ll take a look around outside.”

PV: “Happy to help, if you have more questions let me know.”

Note to self, don’t start conversations!

Don’t get me wrong, he was very nice, but also very insistent. However from his information I’m no more convinced than I was before. This may or may not be an authentic Pony Express station. I do know it was moved here from its original location and likely it was moved a couple of times since the mid 1800′s. Its a form of revisionist history, (its Paul Revere all over again people) but small towns like this need it. They hang their identity on it, it seems. To be able to claim some direct link to a historic event (which itself is long on legend and short on facts) is important to these people and who am I to question the validity. The thing about revisionist history is that eventually, it becomes the truth because no one can dispute it and furthermore, most people don’t care. It is an old building and its potential history is just as good as its real history if it inspires you to remember and that’s all that really matters I guess.

Like the Pony Express riders, (although, by all accounts I am taller than most of them!) I hopped on my steel pony and headed west in a hurry.

Great Platte River Road Archway Monument

Westward Ho

Trails in the Area

Lincoln Highway

Model T

Vintage Billboard

Over Interstate 80

Watson's Ranch

1733 Ranch

Pony Express Station, Gothenburg, NE

Commemorative Marker

Wagon Ruts? and Interstate 76



Today was, essentially, a portage day. I simply moved myself from one location to another, in this case, from Wichita, Kansas to Lawrence, Nebraska. Google Lawrence and you’ll note that it is nowhere near an interstate, and the most direct route between Wichita and Lawrence is not via an interstate. Oh sure, at first I was riding I-135 north from Wichita to Salina, but after that, unless I wanted to follow I-70 east to Kansas City, I-29 north to Omaha, and I-80 west to Grand Island, I was going to be following smaller local roads. Trust me, at this point in the trip, I wasn’t about to make a 530 mile detour just so I could feel morally superior. I looked at a map and instantly sold out for the short and fast route.

But maybe I can use that as my excuse. This time, instead of over-romanticized sunset rides along a twisty section of a classic highway, my criteria was far more practical. I chose the interstate ideal of efficiency since I couldn’t choose the interstate itself. (plus on those straight flat roads I had no problem getting up to freeway speeds, if you know what I mean.)

Though this was just a travel day, I did find one photo op where I stopped and gawked.

The Geographic Center of the contiguous US is located just north of Lebanon Kansas. Since it was only a mile off my route, (which, of course, is many miles off of an interstate), I made the journey.

I considered it very scenic and secluded, but what struck me most about this place was the silence. It was extremely quiet. I read about a guy who was traveling throughout the USA documenting the quickly disappearing places of silence. Disappearing due to encroaching noise pollution. (one spot left is in the Hoh Rain Forest, btw) I don’t know if this place qualifies but it had to be one of the quietest places I’ve been to on this trip. There is a covered picnic area and tables and I sat down at one of them and just soaked in the peace and solitude.

After getting my fill, I continued on to Lawrence, where I planned to spend a whole day off the bike.

Day 32

Not much to report today as I had the day off.

Lawrence, Nebraska is a town right out of central casting, and I mean that in a good way. Lawrence would be at home in a book by backroads travel authors. It’s small with a population of around 300. It’s a half mile long and a four blocks wide. I have family here and, never one to pass on free room and board, made Lawrence my destination for my one day layover.

My wife’s great Aunt Marge and her husband Dick run the local watering hole, Dick’s Place. Dick’s is the local hot spot where all the townsfolk congregate for food, drink and gossip. The old timer’s show up at 6 am and hang out and play cards and talk about the weather, or the crops, or the Cornhuskers, and I don’t think you were allowed to leave until you had a glass of the homemade iced tea. I couldn’t have scripted a more authentic place and immediately liked it here.

Dick and Marge opened their home to me, (well actually I don’t think they lock the doors around here) fed me well, and gave me a comfortable and quiet place to sleep and update the blog. Later in the afternoon, Marge gave me a quick tour of the surrounding area which included some historic markers commemorating the Oregon and Pony Express trails (both of which came right through here as they followed the Little Blue River) and other points of interest. We finished up by checking out the stained glass windows at the Sacred Heart Catholic Church.

I couldn’t have asked for a better day off, well except for one missing ingredient. Staying in their home, as opposed to a campground, rest area, or cheap motel, reminded me how much I miss my own home and especially how much I miss Monique. It was fantastic to spend time together while we were in North Carolina, but it afterward it served to make me miss her more. I don’t know if I mentioned, or if you figured it out on your own, but essentially I have the best wife ever, probably better than I deserve. Don’t get me wrong, I’m having fun on this trip, but I’m glad I’m on the inbound leg. Each day is exciting not only because I get to see some really cool places, but also because it brings me one day closer to Monique. When I’m really enjoying myself such as I did in Lawrence, it makes it easier to leave when I know I get to be home with my wife very soon. Tomorrow on to Denver.

Kansas 128 (Not the Interstate)

The Middle...of nowhere!

Stone monument marks the center

Oregon Trail Marker

James Dean lived here

Sacred Heart stained glass

Close Up

In my haste and annoyance last night I failed to stow the rain pants properly. I thought I put them in the saddle bag, but I think I just put them on top of the saddle bag and then forgot about them and rode off. My rain pants are now somewhere on the side of I-40 in Arkansas. I discovered this fact as I was readjusting items on my bike at a rest area in Oklahoma early this morning. At least there was no chance of rain today. As I finished repacking the bike, sans rain pants, a gentleman with grey spiky hair and a round friendly face came up to me. He was wearing blue jeans and a faded OKC Fire Department T-shirt.

FD: “So where you headed?”

SR: “Ultimately I’m headed back to Seattle, but today I’m going into Oklahoma City and then north to Wichita.”

FD: “You going to see the memorial.”

SR: “Yes.”

FD: “Yeah, its amazing, but I don’t go down there any more.”

SR: “No?”

FD: “I was there for the recovery. I worked for the Fire Department for 22 years, but that was my last job. I retired after that. I was down there and I said I don’t need to do this again.”

SR: “I imagine it was tough.”

FD: “Oh yeah. But the memorial is really beautiful.”

He looks over my bike for a few seconds. (maybe to change the subject) He get a quizzical look on his face.

FD: “How did you get a Goldwing Windshield onto that Guzzi?”

He was referring to my longitudinal V-Twin motor, which is similar to Moto Guzzi motors.

SR: “Its a Honda, a Silverwing, like a Goldwing only smaller.”

FD: “And you put a Guzzi motor in it?”

SR: “It’s a Honda motor. It just looks like a Moto Guzzi.”

FD: “Nice. You know those Guzzi’s run forever with that engine.”

SR: “Same here. It doesn’t look like much but this bike runs great.”

FD: “Well it could look like shit just so long as it runs good.”

SR: “It’s never left me stranded.”

FD: “You following the interstate west?”

SR: “Yes.”

FD: “You know a good ride is to turn off at Amarillo and go through Boise City to Pew-ablo. That’s nice on a bike.”

I think he means Pueblo, Colorado.

SR: “I’ve got to head north to Nebraska.”

FD: “Well you better get riding then, have a safe trip.”

SR: “Thanks.”

And with that he got into his car and drove off. I spent a few more minutes readjusting and then left as well.

The last (and first) time I saw the Oklahoma City National Memorial was at night. I had arrived in Oklahoma City late in the evening and went down there around midnight. It was powerful and somber and sobering. Completely empty except for a police officer who was patrolling the perimeter, I had the place too myself. Today, I was a little worried it might have less impact on this bright sunny day. I didn’t need to worry, it was still sobering but in the light of day it was also peaceful. I’m not sure if there was some other reason for this but the area around the memorial was still relatively empty and quiet. It was a Friday in the middle of a big city and it was almost as silent as my midnight visit. There were a few more visitors but not many.

There are two monolithic entrances on the east and west side of the memorial, the west east reading 9:01 and the west reading 9:03. They not only framed where building stood, but also the moments before and after the explosion which occurred at 9:02. Between them a reflecting pool and to the south (of the pool) 168 empty bronze and glass chairs representing the victims. I hadn’t known anything about the memorial the first time I came here and when I saw the chairs and realized what they represented I was moved, even more so as I noticed that some of the chairs (19) were smaller. I didn’t need to be told what they represented. Today seeing the chairs again saddened me, in the same way I was affected by the headstones at Little Bighorn. The death and destruction here, as there, was unnecessary.

As I walked the grounds I took a few photos but I knew they would never do this place justice. Sometimes, on my adventures I come to a place that I can describe only so well. A place that you need to experience for yourself to truly appreciate it, this is definitely one of those places.

I needed to get moving again, in part because of the time, and in part because I wanted to get away from this melancholy feeling, I could understand why the man I met this morning would not want to come back to this place too often. I headed north on I-235 out of the city and out of this state of mind.

Oklahoma City National Memorial

A Minute of Peace

A Minute of Recovery

Time for Reflection

I rolled into Knoxville late last night. The rest of yesterday’s ride was uneventful and even quite scenic. The air stayed cool after the rains passed and the drive through the Cherokee National Forest was quite scenic at dusk. I was still a little damp as I approached Knoxville and the skies started to darken again and threaten rain so I decided on a motel room for the night. The Manager even pointed out a space under the stairs where I could park Superfudge out of the weather. When I woke up this morning the manager told me I had pulled off the highway at just the right time. Once I got into the room he said it started to pour again and didn’t let up until the wee hours of the morning. It was definitely cool this morning and still damp from the rains but thanks to the Manager’s suggestion, Superfudge stayed dry as well and I was able to load up and ride off with a minimum of fuss.

I didn’t have any plans for today except to ride and make it into Arkansas somewhere before calling it a night. So I didn’t really stop for any photo ops along the way. I did stop for lunch at the North 40 Truck Stop near Holladay, TN.

On occasion instead of having an ‘interesting’ conversation with one of the many unique individuals I meet everyday, I am sometimes privy to other peoples discussions. Not too many on this trip however, usually I have more, but today the drought ended and I will relate the tale. While enjoying a very good deli sandwich at the truck stop, a young Mom, whom I’m considering nominating for “Mother of the Year” stood near the table where I was relaxing. She had two young boys in tow, one seemed to be about 8 or 9 and the other was probably 5 or 6. (The truth is I suck at gauging ages so I could be totally off on this, but I don’t think it affects the story) She was standing near the ‘Baked’ goods. Please note that while the sandwich was made fresh in the deli, the bakery consisted of prepackaged treats.

MOTY: “OK Bobby, Kenny, what do you want? You can each get one thing.”

Kenny (the 6 year old): “I want a donut, the white kind.” (He meant powdered.)

MOTY: “No Kenny, I’m not getting you a donut. They’re bad for you.”

Kenny: “Why not?”

MOTY: “There is way to much sugar in there. How about a Blueberry Muffin?”(proving her grasp of nutritional value is tenuous)

Kenny: “I can almost reach it (the donut), Please?”

MOTY: “No Kenny. Look they have brownies.”

Kenny: “Please just one donut”

MOTY: “No, how about a danish? It has cream cheese, you like cream cheese.”

Kenny: “Nooooo, I just want a donut!”

MOTY: “No Kenny, I told you, I’m not buying you a donut, there is too much sugar in it!”

Kenny: “Please, I won’t eat all of it”

MOTY: “Why don’t you try some cookies, they have chocolate chip”

Kenny: “Nooooo.”

MOTY: “If you don’t pick something quick, you’re not getting anything at all.”

Kenny reaches for the donuts.

MOTY: “Anything but the donuts!”

Kenny crossed his arms and looked dejected.

MOTY: “Fine, we’ll go look in the candy aisle.”

Bobby during this whole time said nothing. He had quickly grabbed a danish when his mother first posed the question, content in the knowledge that he would soon be bouncing off the walls.

When they wandered away I figure this little Greek tragedy had ended.

With in minutes they returned and sat at the table next to mine. Kenny was happily munching on Dolly Madison powdered donut gems (a personal favorite of mine, by the way). I don’t know what concerned me more, that she thought a danish with cream cheese was nutritionally better than a donut or that she caved in anyway. Mom, at this rate Kenny is not going to learn the meaning of the word ‘no’. On the other hand I suppose he will learn the meaning of words like ‘childhood obesity’ and ‘type 2 diabetes’, so I guess that’s a plus.

I left soon after that and continued my journey west. The skies cleared up as I approached Nashville, and with that came the heat and humidity again. Soon I was wishing for a little rain. I crossed through the rest of Tennessee and I was about half way across Arkansas, when my wish was granted. Be careful what you wish for. Since it was after sunset by this time, I couldn’t see it coming. Like yesterday there were a few drops and then WHOOSH! I was passing a semi at the time, around a corner to boot. I slowed up to drop in behind the semi because again, I couldn’t see very well. At some point mid way through the turn there was a low spot in the pavement where the water was pooling. It was in the right lane so I was spared riding through it. The truck however plowed right through. In addition to soaking me from head to toe from his tire spray, the driver took that moment to touch his brakes locking up the trailer wheels for a second and sending them sliding toward my lane. Before I could fully process what was happening, he released the brakes and the trailer straightened out and he kept driving. I slowed down and let him get some distance on me and before I jumped over. Almost a immediately I saw a sign for an exit a mile away. I decided to pull off and put on the rain gear, of course I was already wet and getting wetter until I reached the exit so it was kind of a moot point.

I rolled down the ramp and made a left turn and parked my self under the interstate over pass. I got off the bike and decided to towel off and put on some dry clothes. This took several minutes, but I was lucky this was a quiet interchange (and that it was dark) I fished out some dry socks, jeans and unmentionables and quickly got changed. Then I dug out the rain pants and worked them on over my boots. The real kick in the crotch came when I started to get back on the bike and the rain, as quickly as it had come, disappeared. Significantly annoyed, I pulled off the rain pants with no small effort, and put them in the saddle bag. (They’re great when it is raining, but when it isn’t they are hot and make my legs sweat.) I rode off to find some place to sleep for the night.

Today was simply about driving back to Jacksonville, NC because tomorrow Monique flies back to Seattle (sniff). Last night after leaving the Asheville area we headed over to Charlotte for an overnight stay. Although it is not the most direct route back to Jacksonville, it served a purpose. Both Monique and I are big fans of the Food Network show “Diners Drive-ins and Dives” and we have made an effort in the past to eat at the restaurants featured on the show. Well for some reason, Charlotte, seems to be ground zero for the program since there were five different places in town that were on the show over the years. This morning before leaving town, we drove by two of them to snap some pics, and ate at one more. We drove by the BBQ King Drive-In and the Penguin, and then we ate at the 21 South Drive-In. It has been serving Charlotte since 1955. In fact one employee has been working there for the last 50 years. Guy Fieri, the host of the show, doesn’t lie, when he says this food is ‘off the hook’. It is excellent. Just what you would hope from a nostalgic drive-in. Plus the prices were very fair. I would have expected to pay more for this kind of quality If I lived in the area, I would definitely become a regular.

After a very satisfying lunch we traveled back to Jacksonville following US 74. I was starting to feel guilty for leaving the Interstate behind when I beheld a beheld a beautiful sign. “Future Interstate 74 Corridor”. I guess I’m just ahead of my time. It was true as we traveled east on the highway, sections of it were built to interstate standards so I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course sections were two lanes right through the middle of town. It was an Interstate in training, in transition, an alternately fast and slow return to Jacksonville. Although I will be sad to see Monique leave, I am somewhat excited to restart my adventure.

Day 28

This morning at “Oh my god its early” Jake and I drove Monique to the Albert J. Ellis airport near Jacksonville. After saying our goodbye’s I returned to Jake’s house to catch a few more hours of sleep before repacking SuperFudge and leaving. Before noon, I was up and loaded. Although it was another oppressively hot and humid day, I was encouraged by the thought that in a couple of days, I would be far enough west to leave this weather behind me. It was still going to be hot to be sure, but at least it will be a dry heat. (I hope) To express his displeasure at being left alone in the garage for the last 5 days, Superfudge resisted starting for a few minutes, usually he’s johnny on the spot. Eventually he fired up and after some quick goodbyes to Jake, Jennie, and Shannon, I was off.

Today involved traveling I-40 west across North Carolina. I had just made this trip 5 days ago and I wasn’t really expecting to have any misadventures until after I left the state. In fact I wasn’t sure I was going to have anything to blog about today.

And I Don’t

OK maybe I do. Today I got my first rain while riding. Within a few seconds it went from a light sprinkle to a heavy down pour. I was very close to an over pass so I rolled to a stop underneath it and pulled out the rain paints. Of course pulling them over my boots was challenging and by the time I got them all the way on and back on the bike the rain had stopped. So I pulled them off again, stowed them and started riding. This start and stop rain dance continued for most of the day. After awhile I decided to forgo putting on the rain pants. Sure my pants would get a little wet., but with in a few minutes the rain would pass and it would get hot again and I would dry out.

This worked out fine until I got closer to Asheville. That’s when the sudden rain showers turned into sudden thunder showers. I driven through major lightning storms in the past, in fact I witnessed a spectacular display outside of Spokane WA, driving back from Yellowstone National Park one summer evening in 1990. I thought it was cool at the time, my traveling partner was sleeping and beacuse of the late hour there were no other cars on the freeway so I felt like I was the only person in the world. But back then I was driving in a car. Yes it was a 74 Plymouth Duster, but still it afforded me more protection than Superfudge. Frankly I didn’t know what to expect. I tightened my grip on the handlebars and through clenched teeth I shouted “Come on with the rain. I’ve a smile on my face.” I took some small comfort in the fact that at least the lighting, based on the thunder, was several miles away.

And then it wasn’t. There was bright flash and a loud clap immediately afterwards. Ha ha, that was funny. The rain came down even harder. Then another flash and an even louder boom. OK, now I’m a little worried. Look I’m from Washington State, I live in rain like 10 months out of the year. Pulling off until it passed would mean defeat. I might as well return my Washington State driver’s license as soon as I cross the Columbia river. Still, as the rain came down harder and lighting lit up the skies and the thunder drowned out my thoughts. Its possible I was riding by feel more than by sight, and at this point, I considered doing the unthinkable. I started looking for the next exit or overpass.

At this, my darkest hour, suddenly a ray of light. Literally, there was a patch of sunshine ahead. As I proceeded out from the maelstrom, the clear skies ahead got closer. A graceful sweeper to the right and the rain dissolved around me.  The sun shone bright on the asphalt making it sparkle and shimmer like an oasis. A welcome sight. I breathed deep and felt the tension in my whole body melt away. The air was cool and the sun was starting to set. I passed through Asheville on my way to the my destination for the night, Knoxville, TN,  completely soaked from the waist down but I smiling legitimately this time. I had weathered another day.

We awoke ready to attack our second day in the Smokey Mountains. Today, the world famous Cade’s Cove, located on the western side of the park. As I said yesterday a cove is a valley, and as I also said yesterday, the farmers, loggers and hill folk who were living within the boundaries when it became a National Park were sent packing and most of them just up and left their homesteads leaving the buildings behind. Cabins, farmhouses, barns, a mill, a boarding house, and three churches. plus their cemeteries). Cove folk were very devout.

To tour the cove the Park Service created an 11 mile one way loop tour around the perimeter of the valley. We took our time and explored many of the locations. One of the first settlers in the valley, John Oliver lived in a very primitive log and sod cab. His son and later settlers lived in much more modern homes (relatively) These were still very rustic, but it was interesting to see the evolution of building materials and designs.

We passed three churches during our tour. The primitive Baptist church, which broke off from the other Baptist church in the valley because rivalries that developed over a deep seated belief in a stricter orthodoxy. If I understand the story correctly, the Primitive Baptists didn’t believe in missionary work. There was also a large contingent of Methodists living in the cove. Their church featured two front doors one for men and one for women as was the custom at the time. The information we read suggested that this particular church didn’t subscribe to that particular belief (both genders used either door) but they copied the design for their church from another one that did separate the men and women. One interesting feature of these churches, people who were living in the Cove at the time of the national park dedication, were allowed to be buried here, next to there kinfolk, regardless of when they died. So while there were many old headstones dating back to the early 1800′s some in fact were newer. We saw one as recent as 2009. No doubt that person was a child or infant when the left the cove.

Another unique feature in Cade’s Cove, at least I thought so, was the working mill. Dating to 19^th century, the mill is still used today to grind corn or flour which can be purchased in the gift shop. Today the mill was running for demonstration purposes only. Good thing too because they were encouraging all us tourists to touch the cornmeal with our grubby sausage fingers. (OK I have sausage fingers, as Monique likes to point out from time to time.) The whole process is fascinating. And I took several pics below to explain how it works, in case you didn’t know. After Cade’s Cove we returned to the east side of the park and started our journey back to Jacksonville, Monique flies back to Seattle the day after tomorrow, and shortly after that I remount Superfudge and begin my journey back to the west.

Cade's Cove

More Cade's Cove

John Oliver Cabin

Primitive Baptist Church

Methodist Church

Missionary Baptist Church

New Headstone

1. Creek water is dammed and diverted

2. Through the Flume

3. Over the water wheel

4. Turning the shaft

5 That spins the grindstone (not this one since it is on display)

6. The corn drops in

7. And out comes cornmeal

After Biltmore, what else is there to do in the Asheville, area? Well there is Great Smokey Mountains National Park. You know, if you like that sort of thing. Today we drove to the Eastern Entrance of the Park from Ashville. I say it is in the area but it still took an hour to get there. After entering the park we stopped to get our bearing at the Oconoluftee Visitors’ Center. A small building houses the current visitor center and gift shop while next door, the build a larger modern facility.

First designated a National Park in 1926, many individuals had worked tirelessly for years prior to protect and preserve these forests. The concern of course was logging. But modern preservationists weren’t the first to recognize the beauty of the Great Smokey mountains. This is the ancestral home of the Cherokee. Not too surprisingly, once the land was considered valuable by the ‘Great White Father’ the Cherokee were moved from the area to reservations in Eastern Oklahoma in the 1830′s via the Indian Removal Act signed by President Jackson. I’m sure I don’t need to tell that the Native Americans got screwed on that deal. The route of this forced migration was called the “Trail of Tears”. A growing need for lumber and the US’s insatiable appetite for natural resources during the industrial revolution meant that the forests of Great Smokey mountains were being logged at an alarming rate. As I said before many people worked to save the forests by having the area designated a national park. In fact it congress created a provision for the National Park in 1926. But without designated land it was a park on paper only Saving the area usually meat buying the land outright from the logging companies. Lots of people donated money to help with the effort but back then, if you needed big money, you usually called upon a a civic minded rich industrialist. In this case it was John D Rockerfeller Jr. (Not Vanderbilt, BTW). After spending an obscene amount of money to purchase up large swaths of land, he donated it to the government for the establishment of the park. As I said it was first designated a National Park in 1926 but it was officially established as such in 1934. At that time, residents of the park, those still living within its borders were evicted. Not unlike the Cherokee 100 years earlier. Most of the structures left in the park at the time of dedication were preserved by the park service.

Today it is not only a beautiful national park, it is also the most visited. And unlike most National Parks, there is no entrance fee. I suspect this adds to its popularity.

Today Monique and I traveled from east to west across the park on US 441, climbing over Newfound Gap (a gap is a pass in Appalachian speak) at just over 5000 feet. The drive was spectacular. A twisty narrow two lane tree lined road that would occasionally open up to amazing views of the coves and hollows below. (a cove is a valley and a hollow is a smaller valley near as I can figure) Once we reached the other side of the park we drove into Gatlinburg, TN. This is a touristy town just outside the border of the park. How can I describe Gatlinburg. It was a lot like Wisconsin Dells only without the charm. If you’ve been keeping up with this blog then you I’m not giving it a ringing endorsement. We stopped to pick up some tourist info and then beat a hasty retreat to the smaller, but much nicer, town of Townsend, TN. If you ever get to this neck of the woods I highly recommend staying in Townsend instead of Gatlinburg. We rested at the Talley Ho motel and enjoyed some slow cooked pit BBQ from a combination Restaurant/Inner Tube Rental/Go Kart business across the street. It could be the best BBQ I’ve ever had. Tomorrow, Cade’s Cove

Here's your sign

Newfound Gap

Giving Monique the 'Look'

When in Asheville, you are expected to see Biltmore. Like going to the Louvre and seeing the Mona Lisa. It’s just what you do. Monique and I, not looking to thumb our nose at convention, made today our Biltmore day.

William H Vanderbilt’s (of Vanderbilt’s Folly) youngest son, George built this country estate because he fell in love with the scenery and the and the climate of surrounding Asheville. I can understand about the scenery, it is beautiful, but I’m not so sure about the climate. Maybe George never visited in mid August. Still his stone embodiment to the phrase “money is no object” is quite a sight to behold.

Construction began in 1889 and was completed in 1895. The house was designed to be similar in style to French chateaus and the gardens, designed by the famous Fredrick Law Olmsted included both French and English styles. It features 250 room in a paltry 175,000 square feet. (Yes, I said 175,000)

It is still owned by one of the subsidiaries of the Vanderbilts (the Cecils) which makes it the largest privately owned home in USA. The gardens alone cover 75 acres and the entire estate is about 8000 acres. In keeping with my Interstate theme I was happy to note the I-40 runs through a portion of the estate and you actually pass under it when driving up the approach road.

George, apparently unconcerned by the bottom line supposedly spent much of his inheritance on Biltmore. In 1930 George’s only child Cornelia (Yes, 250 rooms and there was only one child) opened Biltmore to the public for tours in an effort to raise money during the depression. While it was a popular attraction, members of the family continued to live there until 1956. In 1964 it was designated a National Historic Landmark.

The house and gardens are well worth the visit. They were absolutely beautiful and I could spend all day just hanging out in the under the wisteria covered patio on the south side of the home. The artwork alone was amazing. It was nice to see the works of John Singer Sargent and Renoir hanging in the warm environment of a home rather than a sterile museum.

One caveat however. There are plenty of outlets for discount tickets and Monique and I did not avail ourselves so we paid the full admission price of 60 bucks per person. Like I said the house and gardens were beautiful but next time I wouldn’t pay full price. The gleam of the gilded age starts to wear off quickly once you realize you just paid Disneyland prices (per person!) and there ain’t no Matterhorn!

Afterwards we headed back to the motel to rest. Tomorrow we tackle Great Smokey Mountains National Park.

Monique at Biltmore

Architectural Detail

More Architectural Detail

The Greenhouse

Flower and Ant

I40 @ Biltmore