The Devolution of a Ride

"Best laid schemes of mice and men/ Often go awry" - John Steinbeck

Eric and I decided to take Labor Day weekend away from our families and go for a ride of epic intent. Two goals were agreed upon: 1) attempt a SaddleSore and 2) ride through seven new states.

SaddleSore is an endurance test on your motorcycle. It is one of several activities that people can engage in to acquire the moniker of an Iron Butt. SaddleSore is achieved when you ride 1,000 miles in a 24 hour period. There are strict rules and regulations that are involved with acquiring a SaddleSore certificate. You can read all about it here. We felt that working towards this endeavor first and then spend the rest of the weekend traveling to new states on our motorcycles was the best plan.

The forces of nature had something to say about our so-called, "Plans". Rain does not necessary deter me from riding- that's why I bought all my gear with Gore-Tex (super-duper waterproof material that 'breathes'). However, hail does bring about a certain amount of trepidation. Riding at seventy miles per hour with golfball-sized chunks of ice flying at you gives the mind pause. Yet, bravado sometimes trumps sense, and I packed my bags with the intention of riding and headed to Eric's house.

Once there, after pouring over weather maps we decided that we would forgo riding through a total of eleven states and only ride on Sunday with the hopes of unlocking our SaddleSore achievement. The weather was too horrendous. Drinks and merriment were had to celebrate our mature decision of not being struck my chunks of ice.

All systems were a go on Sunday. We woke early, left at our decided time of 4:30 AM. We stopped at the gas station where I added air to my tires, fueled up, and had our SaddleSore documentation signed by a witness (Brandy) with a time stamped receipt to designate our starting time. The Iron Butt rules are rigorous, and they take up to three months to verify your claims.

Riding early in morning on US 190 was a very vitalizing experience. The outline of the trees (cypress, I believe) in the night sky is haunting and beautiful. There was an element of fear due to the darkness, but it heightens your awareness of your surroundings. For several hours the landscape changed from Atchafalaya Basin wildlife preserve to small towns. That juxtaposition is lost when traveling the straight and narrows of interstate paths. For me, it gives me a sense of the evolution of villages, towns, and cities. Back roads remind me of the greater world that exist outside of the city that I live in, and how we are interconnected. These are the thoughts that roll through my head as we travel.

We crossed into Texas with the dawn horizon to our backs. I was excited. We were going to start heading north up East Texas to Oklahoma before turning around and headed back to Baton Rouge. About  twenty miles into Texas, we stopped for some gas, a digital receipt, and a bathroom break.

All things seemed to be in order. Heading north, I noticed a disturbing sound and feel from my motorcycle. It was almost a pulling sensation. I flashed my lights to notify Eric, and immediately pulled over. My first thought was that something was dragging against my back wheel. We took turns riding and looking. I removed my rear guard, but that did not abate the problem. Eric suggested we get off the side of the road and headed back to a parking lot to safely work on the motorcycle.

We parked next to a non descriptor red, aluminum barn*. I was focused on trying to fix the problem- the SaddleSore was at stake. We had only traveled about 220 miles. Since the rear guard did not appear to be the problem, the next thought was that there was something wrong with the back brakes. I pulled out my half-charged phone (didn't think I would need a full charge), and started reading about how to remove your bake breaks. Eric was reviewing some technical information as well. These are good signs of mechanical prowess, right? I got the back brake off and we started the motorcycle, but the jerking was still occurring.

This is where the mechanical declined person makes a bad situation worse. My motorcycle has a computer on it that basically does a lot of really cool things. One of the things it does is not start if there is a problem with your brakes. In all my tinkering, I had, probably, most likely, broke my calipers. Now my motorcycle would not even start. So, we were stranded in the middle of Bruna, Texas, twenty minutes from Beaumont on a Sunday. We had luckily packed some sandwiches and snacks.

We tried calling motorcycle shops in Beaumont on Sunday, the day before Labor Day. Yes, nothing was open. We started calling friends and family to see if we could get someone with a truck and/or trailer to come and pick us up. However, an idea was born- rent a U-haul to strap both bikes in it and drive back home. U-haul was open, which was promising. Eric called the 1-800 number to rent a truck. They had a truck large enough to fit both our bikes. Things were looking up for us because we could get our bikes together and tow them back for relatively cheap without inconveniencing anybody.

Eric drove to the rental place. They did have a truck large enough, but it wasn't going to be available until 4:45 PM. The shop closed at 5:00 PM. The next day was Labor Day. Things were not looking promising. It was about 10:30 AM, and we had been at the same location for about two to three hours. Waiting there until nearly 5:00 PM for a 'maybe' truck did not sound like a good idea. Honestly, I thought we were up a creek without a paddle or piece of board or a boat.

Cue heavenly music.

The newly minted Mrs. Malatesta's mother and step-father had recently acquired a trailer. They lived about ninety minutes from our current location, and were generous enough to offer to come a pick us up form Nowhere, Texas. I am incredibly grateful for this generous act- seriously. The rest of trip went back without a any problems and we arrived safely back in Baton Rouge well ahead of schedule.

The trip was initially to be a nearly epic 2,000 mile trek through eleven states with a SaddleSore involved. Then it was reduced to getting only a SaddleSore in one day to riding. Finally, it devolved to 220 miles and spending six hours on the side of the road next to a drive-thru beer shop.



Until I ramble on again. . .  


*The aluminum barn was a drive-thru for beer. People would literally drive-thru the middle of the barn and someone would grab them the beer, ice, or snacks that they wanted pay and drive out without ever leaving the coziness of one's car.

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 11 (The Final Day)

July 21, 2013
Today's Mileage: 296
Final Total mileage: 2,565

Work it Girls!

Silly Guys

So, in the final night camping, all seemed well. At about 2:30 a.m. I was awoken from an intense, scary dream by a hollowing raccoon. Raccoon's make horrible screeching noises because they are d****. After the adrenaline rush wore off and flashback from the time that I had almost been eaten by a bear while camping (a story for another time) subsided, I feel back asleep. My brain decided, "Hey, you know what will be a great dream? How about dreaming that a raccoon bits your head through the tent!" Awesome, brain. So sleep did not come easy on my final night of the trip.

Another use for the motorcycles is as a laundry line. With a touch of Frebreze, and hanging the items out, they smell- not as rancid. Honestly, I do not care, but I try to be considerate to people that might have to come into contact with my odor. See I can grow as a person. Here are the motorcycles being used in another capacity.  

Hopping back on the Natchez Trace Parkway after a sink shower, no rinse shampoo, and copious amounts of deodorant, I led the way and we meandered through dirt roads in the area. Knowing we needed to arrive in Baton Rouge, LA around 4 p.m., we just spent the morning on the dirt roads.This picture is the last dirt road we were on before we were back on paved roads.

Just before we arrived in Jackson, Ms, I became fatigued. The mixture of lack of sleep and hours of adrenaline fun- my body was sapped. This can be a dangerous time for a motorcyclist because being vigilante is being careful. Cars and trucks aren't as considerate or cognizant of anyone but themselves. The feeling was on my suddenly. Eric noticed right away and pulled in the first gas station to ensure that I was OK and take a break. After getting gas, and making sure that I was well to ride, Eric gave the lead position to me to stop where ever I wanted for lunch. I noticed that we were right near Interstate 55 and 15 miles from Jackson, MS. Doing the calculations in my head, we were a mere 15 minutes from Cool Al's restaurant. I knew that I could easily make it there and relax and enjoy a delicious hamburger. I made the decision to head there. I was so excited. The best restaurant that I had eaten ate in the beginning would provide a fitting end to my journey. However, the stars were not aligned as we pulled up to Cool Al's it was closed. So I picked the closest thing to us in despair and abject disappointment- Hooters. 

Hooters were the lonely and sad patronize (insert deprecating humor here). Saying you go there for the wings is like saying you read Playboy for the articles. I went there because it was right next to us and I was hungry (hurrah for convenient excuses). Any food was acceptable.

After an uncomfortable lunch, for more reasons than one, we were back on the road. About 20 miles from the Mississippi/Louisiana border, my back started knotting. I was starting to feel feeble. I was not tired just in pain. As soon as we crossed the border, I indicated to Eric to stop at the border rest area. Here is a picture of me doing I-don't-care-what-you-think Yoga. 

During this time, a good Samaritan tried giving me Lortabs, and when I declined, a Red Bull. Seems contradictory, huh? Here is a muscle relaxer and a stimulant. I declined both and after a few minutes of rest, I hopped on the motorcycle, cranked up the tunes, and made it back home in one piece.

So there ends this journey, but there is more to tell. Although I won't be posting everyday, I will continue this blog of adventure, wonder, and rambling. Stay tuned for The Epilogue and Outtakes from this trip. Thank you everyone for taking the time and reading my inane words. At the time of this posting, there have been over 500 views on this blog! Keep reading, sharing, and hopefully enjoying.

Until I ramble on again . . .

I already miss you.

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 10

July 20, 2013

Today's Mileage: 243
Total mileage: 2269

Family Photo

Leaving from Wally Doxen, Eric and I headed north towards Tennessee. We have decals (I do realize this is somewhat childish, but I do not care I like stickers) and every state that we travel in (or just cross the border) we put that state's decal on our motorcycles. Eric had yet to cross into Tennessee, so why not?) At this point, I have Louisiana, Mississippi, Arkansas, Tennessee, North and South Carolinas, and Georgia. It is real life achievements, it gives life more replay value. Riding north we did start the day off road. Here is Eric and I stopping to check the mud road ahead. It is beautiful riding.

The difficulty with riding mud roads on two wheels are the tires and potential lack of momentum. Motorcycles want to stay upright due to physics, well it is geometry, mass distribution, and gyroscopic to be more accurate. To continue moving forward, the tires need traction. Tires with "knobs" sort of scoop the mud out of the way to create traction. Just call me Rob the Science Guy. Eric and I have the same tires, which are designated as 80/20, meaning 80% on road (tarmac) and 20% off road. The mud that we were in pretty much caked our tires removing the little extra traction that our tires create. Forward momentum was maintained through rigorous maneuvering and dumb luck. Much of my life relies on dumb luck. These tires are good for loose gravel and packed mud. Even in those scenarios it can get hairy and led to a fall. Yet, we didn't fall. Go us! However, my next set of tires will be 50/50 tires- the Heidenau K60s. We passed by two BMWs on the trail someone on a F800 GS and another on a GSA and one of them had the Heidenau.

Part of the thrill of riding off road is the unknown. What will happen next? What problems will we have to solve? What is the wing velocity of a swallow? These are all profound questions that swirl around in my mind. Ok, that is not so much true as it is just an adrenaline rush to fight your way through a difficult area or brake your back tire as you slide downhill or giving some gas for more momentum to make it up that daring hill or threading the gas as you round a turn standing on your pegs. The concentration is tiring and invigorating simultaneously. Here is another view from the road we were on that day.

Just marvelous. We stopped at a restaurant just inside Tennessee. Worn from the day, we stumbled into the restaurant and ordered some mediocre food. We tracked mud into the restaurant. They were really sweet about it, but we felt somewhat embarrassed. Have no fear gentle reader, I provided a 50% tip to compensate- we walked on carpet. 

Before heading back south we had to decide on a place to stay. A decision was reached to jump on Natchez Trace Parkway and either stop at Jeff Busby Camping Area of Tombigbee National Forest (not to be confused with Tombigbee State Park, which we had at some point). Tombigbee was slightly east of the Natchez Trace Parkway, but we didn't know exactly how far. We ended up at Jeff Busby for two reasons 1) it was directly off the Parkway and 2) it was getting late and it is better to set up camp in the daylight. Jeff Busby Camping Area is a primitive camp ground meaning no power hook ups or water. There were fountains near us and a toilet, but no shower. I think another motorcyclist stopped in at some point in the evening, but they were far enough away that I never saw them. Here is a picture of our campground. 

This campground was more open and could hang out with the stars as I sip on my scotch. This is the good life. Tomorrow is the final day of my trip.

Until I ramble on again . . . 

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 9

July 19, 2013

Today's Mileage: 313
Total Mileage: 2026

Wow, I have traveled over 2,000 miles on this trip.

Today was back to Shunpiking. I was only on the interstate until Tuscaloosa, Al then, on to the highway. It was a nice scenic ride, nothing spectacular. I waited in an Exxon parking lot for Eric. He decided that he wanted to take some off-roads before we met up. He might have fallen off his bike twice and had to pick up 900 lbs bike by himself in the middle of a really hot, sunny day. He made it to our meeting location, slightly haggard and tired. Like the cowboy he is, he complained about it, drank a bottle of water, and headed back out on the dirt roads with me.

This is a picture from my bike on one of the many 'roads' we took.

It is not so much falling off these bikes, because when you are taking these types of roads it will happen at some point, that is tiresome. It is picking up these large bikes with gear on them that can wear a person out. 

We camped at Wall Doxey. We were fortunate enough to have a couple of R/V campers bring over some hamburgers they had just made. I do not pass up free food. Later that night, I was worried that they might have drugged me and would re-enact scenes from Deliverance. That movie has scarred me for life. I'm writing this, so nothing bad has happened- that I know of. . . 

Until I ramble on again . . . 

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 8

Note: The last few days were written on the day of riding, but due to limited internet accessibility there are being posted over the next couple of days.

July 17, 2013

Mileage Day 8: 544
Total Mileage: 1,713

Back on the road again. However, this riding is not the kind that I enjoy. I, of course, ate up the miles today because it was ALL interstate. I rode from Morrisville, North Carolina all the way to Birmingham, Alabama.

Side note: Atlanta Traffic, you suck. Ten lanes, a bypass, and you still can't get your stuff together (edited for vulgarity). Come on. I almost developed as much anger for you as I have for Dallas Traffic and Houston Traffic (number 1 and 2 respectively on my s@*t list).

I was in South Carolina when I enjoyed my packed lunch. Auntie Dey was kind enough to pack me a lunch. It was the highlight of my day. This is true for two reasons: 1) I love Auntie Dey's cooking as much as Sharbari's and 2) I was on the interstate all day.

Whenever I eat a packed lunch of homemade Indian food (which doesn't happen often these days), I always think of Tiffins. The first time in India Sharbari explained to me (if any of this information is inaccurate it is not due to her) that in Mumbai all the men go to work and there lunch is brought to them by an intricate system. There is some cultural aspect to this about men wanting a hot meal that is cooked fresh and not heated with sound waves. Tiffin is a slang term for second breakfast, but in Mumbai it refers to a packed lunch. Everyday tiffin wallahs pick up the prepared meals from the persons home as prepared by mother or wife. There are a series of markings on the tiffin to denote where that owner is located in town. To blow your mind, Mumbai's metropolitan area has over 20 million people that covers about 1,651 square miles. Even if 50% of the population used it (trust me it is way more) that is over 10 million people that are being brought lunch every day without fail. I can't remember how accurate it is, but I want to say it is over 97% accurate. It could be more, and Google could tell me, but guessing is way better. There is a great episode of Top Gear (Series 17, Episode 7) where they attempt to carry tiffins to the correct location. I thought I had a picture of the tiffins from my travels, but this is a picture of a man moving cloth on top of a bicycle. I think Indians invited Tetris.

Tomorrow I will be meeting up with my friend, Eric and get back to Shunpiking.

Until I ramble on again . . . 

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 5

July 15, 2013

Mileage: 1,169

Today, I rest. No riding, boots need drying.

Homemade Breakfast, Indian style French Toast. Auntie Dey knows how to take care of my ravenous stomach.

Spicy, sweet, and delicious, but not French Toast

I'm still documenting, but taking some time to reflect and muse about other things that I have thought or encountered along the way. 

I have been thinking about music and riding a motorcycle with music. Unless you have a large touring motorcycle that blasts music loud enough to hear over the rushing wind, you need ear buds for music. I know there are some people that will not listen to music while they ride, as they fear it will distract too much. I am not one of those people. However, I do not listen to music the entire time. Yesterday, I did not pop my ear buds in until I got to Asheville. Scenic or Interstate riding, I feel are times when a soundtrack is needed, but when you need to get to the place of pure concentration, I institute a policy of NO MUSIC. 

This brings me to my soundtrack. I have uploaded a wide range of music onto my iPod and have found some bits to be more fitting for the road than others. I have only about 750 songs on the iPod and I hit shuffle. Sometimes a band is great for Interstate driving, while others create a symbiotic relationship with the scenic landscape, but some fall flat on all accounts. I'll give an example of each.

Pink Floyd. This is one of my favorite bands of all time; however, as a soundtrack while riding it is forgettable. I have the albums Meddle, Ummagumma, Dark Side of the Moon, and Animals. I also have a collection of early singles from the Syd Barrett days. The melodic music is best for other recreational activity, but not for motion. I still enjoy listening to them, and they will stay in rotation, but not a band I would put on a Motorcycle Playlist. The Syd Barrett years are not bad for highway riding. Stand out songs for riding: 'See Emily Play' and 'One of These Days' 

Rush. If you know most of you groaned. I can't talk about music and motorcycling without mentioning Rush. Most people either love them or hate them. I fall into the love category (huge love). The Holy Triumvirate are the best when riding the Interstate. The odd time signatures, intricate details, and air drumming glee provide can add color to the humdrum of Interstate travel. One can yell at a careless car, "I'm a mean, mean warrior," and feel the confidence surge. I have the albums All the World's a Stage, Snakes and Arrows (studio and concert), Time Machine, Hemispheres, Clockwork Angels, R30, and Different Stages. Stand out songs for riding: 'Ghost Rider,'  'Red Barchetta,' and 'Malignant Narcissim.'

The Decemberist. This was totally unexpected. This has been one of my favorite groups to listen while riding. The album 'Picturesque' was a gift (Thanks Matt!) and it has been perfect for scenic driving. Riding along any body of water, pop in 'The Mariner's Revenge,' and be seduced by the infectious melody that feels right; although, the lyrics are dark. I stopped at one point when riding Natchez Trace Parkway and played the entire Picturesque album from start to finish. I was not disappointed. Stand out songs for riding (this really good be the whole album): 'The Mariner's Revenge,' 'The Infanta,' and 'The Sporting Life.' 

 I could write on and on about different types of music (side note Miles Davis is best for highway riding), but I'm stuffed with amazing Indian food and need to sleep. So that is all for today.

Until I ramble on again . . .

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 4

July 14, 2013

Day 3 Mileage 330
Day 4 Mileage: 432
Total Mileage: 1,169

Note: Sorry it has taken so long to get this written and posted. Once you read, it will become clear.

Day 3 ended in a stretch that was neither inspiring nor fun. Playing it safe (because the interstate is no where to take ANY chances), I arrived in Knoxville around 5 p.m. and decided the best course of action was to stay in a hotel.

The beautiful weather that I have been having has fallen off as I move east. Before we get to the abysmal weather. Let's talk about the morning of Day 4.

As the Germans would say about today, Das grenzt an Zauberei (This borders on Magic). Starting in Knoxville, TN I took Highway 70 to Highway 129. Highway 129 becomes a very fun, solitary road, but then it grows wings and becomes something bigger, something better. This is me moments before putting on my chainmail, hopping on my trusty stead, Simone, and attacking Smaug's cousin (does my nerd know no depths?)

Riding the Dragon's Tail for 11 miles is nothing short of the single greatest motorcycle ride I have ever experienced. It was thrilling, invigorating, and extraordinary. This road is such a big deal that they have a company that take photos of you while you are riding. Look at Action Rob.

These are some pictures that I took along the Dragon's Tail. The scenery was beautiful, and there are plenty of designated areas to pull off and take some images. Not sure these can remotely do it justice.

After crossing into North Carolina, at the bottom of the run, I took a break amongst the other motorcyclist (even got a souvenir for myself). I talked with another BMW GS rider, he had a newer Adventure model. Anyway, we talked for about 10-15 minutes, but he was emphatic that I should ride Blue Ridge Parkway. I had never heard of this place, but he and his wife stated that it was one of the best rides, motorcycle or car, in the whole U.S. He seemed to know his stuff so I put my faith in his knowledge. It was a short 20-30 minute drive to the beginning of the Parkway and it would bring me to my desired destination- Asheville. I wanted to do another night of camping. Lake James State Park looked promising and was a short ride outside of Asheville. The best thing about having a skeleton of a plan is that it can change as you need it.

I headed down Highway 28, which was great motorcycle driving. I easily found Highway 441. This highway runs through a town that I'll take another day to explain. I found the parkway and was off. This is from the beginning of the travels, I believe I was at about 3,500 feet elevation. This should have been a warning. Behind all those clouds are the towering Smokey Mountains. I would soon be riding into those clouds of rain.

The day would have been perfect if the Blue Ridge Parkway that spans through the Smokey Mountains had been clear, but this was not the case. There are no commercial entities along the Parkway, and it is a gorgeous ride with scenic outlooks dotted along the path. Within 20 minutes of riding, the mist started. In my head, I stated with gusto, "I'm an adventure rider, this is part of the adventure." Then the heavy rain came. Still unwavered, I moved along at a health, albeit, safe pace. Next was the fog followed closely with gusts of wind. Don't worry, fair reader, as Sir Robin did while facing the Three Headed Knight, I bravely ran away.

I didn't run away, per say, but I took a break in the woods as there is no shelter along the Parkway. This picture is before the heavy fog and wind. I took my time and rode with great abandon caution. There were lots of motorcyclists I saw along the Parkway. One of the really fun things about the Parkway are the tunnels. There were tunnels a plenty, but the rain and fog prevented me from taking any pictures. All in all I honestly did have a great ride through Blue Ridge Parkway, and it is a road that I will have to visit again to get a different experience out of it.

I pushed through until I hit Asheville. At this point, I had been riding in rain for about 3 hours. Honestly, I was still having fun. The pure endurance of keeping mentally focused was invigorating. As much as I wanted to camp, the weather had been fickle. It had been a long day of adrenaline pumping action. I made a tough decision- push through to Morrisville to get to final destination of visiting Sharbari and Kushal. I had planned on arriving on Monday as I was adamant about lollygagging my way to see them. Minds and plans can change, and it is best to go with the flow. I forgot my waterproof boot covers and the rain was so constant that it soaked my boots. Here they are at the end of the trip. They are normally a light brown. This was the deciding factor of going straight to Morrisville.

Getting to them required the dreaded Interstate. However, riding through North Carolina's portion of I-40 was not as bad as I feared. I was not encountering as many large trucks and the roads were well maintained. With tunes in my ear, I moved ahead and made it to a delicious meal and comfy bed picking up some serious miles.

A truly magical day.

Until I ramble on again . . .

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 3

July 13, 2013

Total from Day 2: 219

Total so far of Day 3: 148

Total Mileage 555

Last I left you I was pondering whether to stop in Tishomingo State Park or push a little to Davy Crockett State Park. Well, let’s just say that I’m happy I stopped in Tishomingo. Cost about as much as a National Park ($18 for spot with hook ups). However, look at the spot I was camping.

I decided that I did not feel like searching for fire wood. At the site, some generous individuals left some kindle, but I wanted some big pieces to last me the night. So traveling to the local corner store the young lady behind the counter agreed to sell me some logs dependent on how much I could fit on my motorcycle. Needless to say, it was amusing to everyone that observed my tomfoolery. Not a bad job, eh?

After loading up, and as local after local shook their heads in confoundment, one local asked where I was from. I told him New Orleans. He asked if I had ever heard of Raceland? Really, out here I meet a person originally from Raceland. I stated, “Of course,” I had my appendix removed at the hospital in Raceland. Side note: I almost didn’t make it as my chauffeur, Madlaugher, found great joy in making me laugh, then watching me double over in pain. I think it almost ruptured a few times from his antics. I asked the man from Raceland if he had eve heard of the Eglés. His response was, “Of course, that is a big name down the bayou.” There was something knowing about the way he responded, but did not elaborate. All I know is that my maternal family reaches out deep into Mississippi. 

So, night fell, and I had a flask of High West’s Campfire (a perfect blend of bourbon and scotch) sitting next to a campfire, or as my dad called it “Caveman T.V.” There is something contemplative about sitting in front of a campfire enjoying a digestif. 

As my fire was running low, laying out on the ground, and staring up in the stars, I started listening to Neil deGrasse Tyson’s informative, imaginative podcast ‘StarTalk’. Hearing him discuss the cosmos, the space program, and a multitude of space related topics is inspired. Having a clear night with stars aplenty was mind altering sans drugs (not enough bourbon to alter consciousness it was all Neil and guests). Check out StarTalk on iTunes and sit under the stars as Dr. Tyson regales with the beauty and wonder of the universe- trust me.

Morning view is amazing. Tastes remarkable with a perfectly percolated cup of coffee.

Today has been BRILLIANT! The Natchez Trace Parkway leading up to Nashville was marvelous. It started to get curvy, than about 20-30 miles from North Terminus the curves really required one to dig deep. It happened suddenly, and it took a moment for me to find the confidence in Simone (and myself). Rest assured, I found the confidence in machine and man, and what a ride! I’m writing this moments after I have finished the ride and still have a surge of adrenaline (this large dark coffee is probably not helping the pep). There were many, many riders on the Natchez Trace, but all were heading south. 

I missed so much on the Trace because at certain points you will stop every 5 minutes (sometimes less than that) to catch everything. I would do it again. A highlight is that I was able to do a little off road and ride part of the Old Natchez Trace. Here I am taking a break at Cypress Creek in Tennessee.

I’ll be jumping on the Interstate at some point to get to Knoxville. I refuse to call it a 'freeway,' since it does not posse any freeing qualities. Will I attack the Dragon’s Tail (or as German’s say, “Schwanz des Drachen.”) or will I camp out and head towards it tomorrow? Time will dictate my next choice for today and tomorrow. 

Until I ramble on again. . .

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 2

July 12, 2013

Mileage so far today: 138
Total Mileage so far: 326
Current Location: Tupelo, MS (Starbucks)

This is a midday post because I will be camping tonight and no access to wi-fi. 

Today, I started the Natchez Trace Parkway. According to the federal governments' website:

"The Natchez Trace Parkway is a 444-mile drive through exceptional scenery and 10,000 years of North American history.  Used by American Indians, ‘Kaintucks,’ settlers, and future presidents, the Old Trace played an important role in American history. Today, visitors can enjoy not only a scenic drive but also hiking, biking, horseback riding, and camping.”

This girl has a lot of junk in her trunk

I’m not riding the entire length as I started in Jackson, MS (the trace starts in Natchez, MS), but will be traveling a substantial chunk of it all the way to Nashville. The ‘winding’ road is suppose to imitate the Native Americans original footpaths in the area. The bison and other game in the area would graze for salt deposits, and the hunters would follow them creating footpaths that became well worn. By the time the European “Explorers” came the path was the best means of communication/traveling between the Mississippi River, Cumberland Plateau, and the Gulf of Mexico. The Native Americans had created a path that circumvented the larger hills (we call them mountains in Southern Louisiana), thus less taxing to travel. Brilliant!

The road is scenic. Not all turns, swerves, and steep dips. I would call it more a road to reflect on, or a reflective road. Maybe not. This is from the early morning looking over the reservoir. 

I haven’t stayed on the road the entire time. I have been finding plenty of dirt, gravel, and tracks that some might dispute the designation of ‘road’. It has been fun, tiring, and invigorating to get in the intense concentration of riding off-road. What is the point of owning a BMW GS if one stays on the tarmac the whole time? I tell you none. 

Friday seems to be a really good time to ride on the Natchez Parkway because the lack of traffic. I have gone miles and miles without seeing a single car. I have flown by maybe 3 motorcycles. Solitary and wondrous. 

Taking a Moment

At times, the gravity of the history of European settlers and explorers fills my mind. I have written research papers on varying aspects of the Native Americans (there is even a short film I did, which few have seen). This is one example of hundreds of treaties that Europeans have broken over the course of populating America. I can’t remember the exact number, but there are hundreds of treaties that have been broken due to the whim of European settlers. It still occurs to this day. 

So, traveling alone means less opportunities of taking pics of myself. Here are a couple of attempts while hiking. 

Along my travel, I spent some time in Kosciusko learning about the Chief Engineer for West Point, a Polish immigrant named Tadeusz Kościuszko. Yes, the town is named after him. I meet the two older, lovely ladies that run the museum (it is really just a single room with ‘artifacts’ from 1981). The ladies were the real attraction. They were hilarious and talkative. One would ask me a question and before I provided a full answer she was talking about the wild hog that lives in her yard. They did ask me where I was from as they could not place my accent. I told them I am from New Orleans. Their immediate follow up question was, “No originally.” They didn’t believe me I was born in New Orleans and lived in South Louisiana all my life. It just has my musing on accents, dialects, and my encounters with language (Basal!). With globalization is the ‘accent‘ a relative term?  Just a musing from an encounter.

I'm finding some level of equilibrium. There is something about the motion and solitary that creates a situation of contemplation. The dirt roads have created mindless situations as I am completely focused on steering Simone through the gravel and dirt. Too many thoughts to bore you with at this juncture, but contentment is maintained.

So this is today's update. I'm probably heading to Tishomingo State Park for the night, since trying to push to David Crockett State Park might be too taxing. I'm on vacation so I'm lazier than usual. 

Shunpiking to Sanity Tour: Day 1

July 11, 2013

Day 1:

Mileage: 188 Miles
Location: Jackson, MS (Cheap Hotel) 

The past few years have been tumultuous to say the least. Death, Deceit, and Divorce, the type of triple 'D' that no one likes to see. It has been an intense and discombobulating time period. However, I am an insanely fortunate person because my friends and family have helped me more than any set of  words could convey.

Right, enough with the gooey, sentimental stuff. On with the nerd.

Shunpiking is a term I learned from Neil Peart's writings. In his collection of essays, Far and Away, there is a explanation that is more succinct than anything I can write,

"The delightful term ‘shunpiker’ goes back about 500 years, to a time when British roads were lawless, especially at night, prowled by highwaymen and footpads. Villages blockaded their entry roads with a long pole—a pike—stretched across them. Around the same time, toll roads were invented, and a similar pike blocked the way until travelers paid their fee, when the pike would be turned—hence “turnpike.” In those days, travelers who deliberately avoided toll roads called themselves 'shunpikers.' "

It has been adapted by travelers today that avoid the main freeways/highways- there are shunpikers. Rather, I should say,  WE are shunpikers. Back roads, dirt roads, and quasi-roads these are place that I enjoy traveling. I have a skeleton of a plan, but if the road, mood, or advice takes me along a different path I will embrace it. Plans are made to be changed.There is something freeing, invigorating, and scary about barely having a plan when traveling.

I'm sure, gently reader, that you can understand why I have dubbed this vacation as the Shunpiking to Sanity Tour.

Today was not a shunpiking day, but sometimes you need to take the dread highways in order to get to the fun roads. Interstate 12 to 55 (boring). Only had intense rain for about 15 minutes.

So, the highlight of today was . . . FOOD! One of the fun things of traveling is finding hidden food gems. Cool Al's is a burger joint that was recommended to me by an older gentleman with 4 teeth. People that loiter outside of stores often have a good information (for a small tip) on cheap, tasty food, so with my trusting nature I ventured out looking for Cool Al's with no knowledge of the area and limited comprehensive on directions provided. This is the outside.

Looks inviting. This is not Burgersmith, Five Guys, or another chained-burger-joint.The sign is not legible and has nothing to do with my photography. They have a variety burgers- classic, turkey, and vegetarian. They even have some vegan offerings, but I don't include vegan cheese as anything but waste of time. Cool Al's has all the character you could want in a dive restaurant from sarcastic signs denoting that they are NOT fast food to declaring a $10 charge if you act an ass and mismatched decor. I knew I was in the right place.

I decided to behave and get a vegetarian pineapple delight. To balance out the health, I got sweet potato tots and onion rings. All home made.

I also got a pint of Red Stripe to round out the food groups. Beer is a food group, right? Sloppy, tasty, spicy, and amazing. It is worth ambiguous signage and location. I don't think I'll find a better place to eat (not including home cooked Indian food) on this trip, but I'll sure try. So find Cool Al's at 4654 McWillie Dr., Jackson, MS and you won't be disappointed.