I got home yesterday and after a 13 hour ride, I think bed was the only option. Today, I had to get up and take the youngest to his father's for the weekend, a journey to Northern Virginia, usually about 3 hours, that took nearly 6 hours round-trip including stopping for lunch at Taco Mexico in Prince William county and the subsequent bathroom stop(s).Needless to say, I'm exhausted and writing about my return trip is that last thing I have been thinking about.
Based on what I read, was advised to do and what my inner explorer wanted to do, I took the long route home. Purposely avoiding the interstates, I wanted to get a true feel of a bike adventure on the pavement. The plan was to leave Rome, GA, follow route 53 to Fairmount, GA, turn north on US411 and ride it into Maryville, TN. From Maryville, I would jump onto US129 to US11 and follow it to Salem, VA where US11 and route 460 split, follow 460 to route 24 in Appomattox, VA. Route 24 intersects route 60 near Buckingham county. Once on route 60, I would follow it into Midlothian, VA, turning onto the 288 bypass and follow it to route 6 (Patterson Ave. for the Richmonders) which takes me home. Boring I know. However, I want to lay out the route I planned because it's important to note that the only Interstate I followed was a 15 miles stretch in Wytheville, VA where US11 and I-81 are the same road. I wanted a purely scenic route home, time be damned. I got just that.
I left Friday at 8 AM sharp. I made it to Calhoun, GA and then to Fairmount, GA without incident. As I rode route 53 to Fairmount, I remembered that this was the route we used to take when we would ride to the mountains. I have a picture that I need to scan in which 5 or 6 of us are sitting on our (then) bikes in our leathers, looking super bad-ass (read: sarcasm) getting read to tackle the road that winds through Suches, GA. It's nostalgia and sadness all at once knowing that I haven't seen or heard from a few of those guys in 7 or 8 years. Once in Fairmount, I turned north on US411 and rode by where route 53 splits off into the mountains. Were I to have more time and be in better fitness, I would have taken the route as it would take me through Suches and then, if I followed the right roads, to route 129 in Tennessee, aka The Tail of the Dragon located in Deal's Gap.
US411 took me straight into Maryville, TN. I'd never been there and was pretty blown away at how beautiful the area is. It's roughly 20 miles from Knoxville, TN and made for a good stop. I pulled into a Shell station, filled up and took a quick break. The owner of the Shell kept telling me I should ride back the way I came about a mile and take "the road". I asked what he was talking about and it turned out that the northern edge of Deal's Gap was right off of US411. I thought about it and, remembering the last time I rode it in 2004 being in better shape and sounder mind, decided not to as I had a looooong way to go.
I drove another mile up the road and turned north on US129. Another 2 or so miles had me on US11 and finally on the longest stretch of road I would take the entire day. My father had told me about a particular BP station that is located right about where US11 passes under Interstate 40. I dismissed it as poor memory on my father's part until I passed the very station he told me about. Score one for 7+ decades of long term memory.
US11 goes right through the heart of Knoxville, TN. I passed by the University of Tennessee and saw parts of the city that I had never seen before. US11 meets with several other routes and, as soon as it passes underneath Interstate 40 in the heart of downtown Knoxville, it takes a very sudden and unexpected turn to the east. I missed that part of the trip apparently. Route 441 goes north and it took me a good 15 minutes of driving through Knoxville traffic in 100 degrees to figure out I had missed US11. Whoops. I turned around and eventually figured it out, but not until I had lost 30 minutes of drive time and had to ask a sketchy looking dude in a very loud voice "IS THIS ROUTE 11??!?" two times while he traversed a crosswalk in front of me. Ear plugs save your ears, but are hell on everyone else when you are communicating.
The only decision I had to make in planning this route back that I left until the very last second was which way to go on US11. At some point in the middle of the 20th century, US11 was split into 2 separate roads, US11E and US11W. They are called that because they are west and east of each other...duh. They each run the distance from east of Knoxville all the way to Bristol TN/VA. Each one presents a different set of towns to ride through but they are, mileage wise, identical. The only thing that I read that caused a moment's hesitation was that US11W used to be called Bloody 11W because of all the traffic fatalities. That's a bit morbid, but at the last second, I chose 11W to take to Bristol.
The road to Bristol was uneventful. At one point, US11W merges with route 325e. I missed the exit that was US11W outside of Rogersville, TN and had to ride about 3 miles out of the way to turn around. Well, 3 miles was far enough for me to see the first of several lakes that surround Rogersville and the area. Topping the hill, I could see down into the lake that is nestled between the mountains. It was shimmering and, again, I was tempted to go off course for a few minutes to explore. I decided not to and made a mental note to revisit on my trip back down in a few weeks time. Words cannot describe how beautiful the scenery was. It's like a dream. I made my way back to US11W and on to Rogersville. Riding through the town was worth the trip. Much like the lake I had seen 20 minutes before, the town itself was beautiful. Part of the allure of traveling back on non-interstate roads is the scenery. That scenery includes all the wonderful little towns that one passes through on the way home. Rogersville was first town that surprised me with it's personality and beauty. It's one of two areas that really took my breath away.
Past Rogersville, I rode through other beautiful towns in Tennessee such as Mount Carmel and Church Hill. I made it into Kingsport, part of the so-called "Tri-Cities" area. I had not been through the city since the early 90's when my family and I were active in the Mustang club of America. Kingsport was the site of the grand Nationals one year, the pinnacle of Mustang shows then (and probably now too). I remembered nothing of it so I just enjoyed riding through the town. Of note is the cities use of traffic cameras and one speed camera. Funny how a small town in Tennessee is following the British and putting up these rather intrusive devices.
When I got to Bristol, I remembered my father's advice to take the interstate for a few miles until I had cleared the downtown area. He reasoned that, being very hot, I would be stuck in traffic and be very warm. I stopped at a gas station at the point where US11W and 11E merge to be US11. I drank a good bit of water and, while using the bathroom, was surprised to see my left eye was in bad shape. The night before I left, I rode out with a friend to have a parting beer. On the way home, as I lowered my visor after pulling away from a traffic light, a gnat or some type of fling insect flew DIRECTLY into my left eye. It took a few seconds to die as I could feel it moving around on my eyeball. By the time I had made it home the mile to my parents house, my left eye looked like George Burns does now. Dead.I used some eye-drops and when I left that morning, my eye looked good. I figured the State Trooper who was eyeballing me (pun intended) in the gas station must have thought I was some meth-head what with the red eye, the flattened hair and soaked t-shirt. Oh and the big Longhorns sticker on the back of the bike.
Taking no heed of my father's advice, I followed US11 on out. It was hot and took a while, but I made it through and onto several small towns after Bristol. One in particular was, much like Rogersville, unforgettable. It reminded me of the little town I grew up in, Cave Spring, when Cave Spring was bustling and had lots of business coming through. There was a local fair going on and a farmers market on the main street. People waved at the bike as I passed through and at the other bikes that were going the opposite way. It would have been great to stop and look around, but again, I promised to pass through again soon and take time to enjoy it. At one point, a little bit past the Tri-cities area, I passed though a small town in which a property owner had, by my estimation, 2-300 Volkswagen Vanagon vans. That's 2 to 3 HUNDRED of them sitting in neat rows and in buildings on the property. I know obsession when it comes to cars (anyone who knows me knows that), but this is like...I don't honestly have a word for it. It was definitely bizarre.
From there, US11 took a winding route that paralleled I-81. I would ride down the road and pass through towns I had only seen from the Interstate. Marion, Chilhowie, Radford and Christiansburg were all explained to me in 10 minutes by riding down the center of the towns and seeing what each had to offer. Every so often, US11 would come to a complete stop and I would have to go left or right over the Interstate and then back onto 11 again. I liked it because I had time to stop, stretch my legs for 10 or 15 seconds, and then blast off again. When I got to Wytheville, VA, I had to get onto the Interstate for about 15 miles because someone got lazy and merged the roads. Suckage.
A little further down and I was finally approaching Christiansburg where US11 and US460 meet. I made it through with no issues and, as I rode into Salem a little bit later, I sadly said goodbye to US11 as it traveled north and I was going east on 460. I made one more stop at a Sheetz, drank some more water, fussed over my eye again and wondered what downtown Roanoke would be like as it was the next stop that I was unfamiliar with (my family is from Salem, VA mostly so I know the downtown area pretty well).
Roanoke turned out to be the b-hole of the trip. Plenty of crazy drivers and loads of traffic meant a long haul through the area. Once I saw the turn off to Troutville, VA, the area where I normally get onto the Interstate going south, I was relieved because I knew I would be able to shift through traffic.
Several miles and 612 speed traps later, I pulled into for my last gas stop 11 miles outside of Appomattox, VA. How do I know it was 11 miles? Read on... I pre-paid inside with my card because the pump was out of order for cards. Anticipating my gas usage, I paid for $20 worth. I used $15 and was lucky to squeeze that much in. The sun was setting and I wanted to get on the road. As I stood in line for a second time to get my refund, I downed a water. When I got to the counter, the girl was on the phone. Mind you, there was a line behind me and, like my other stops, I was looking a good bit different than the folks standing around me. Green t-shirt, black riding pants, blue boots (they match my helmet!) and a red eye that earned a stink eye from anyone who noticed. The girl behind the counter announces to me that she has had to call the manager to get the $5 refund because she isn't aware of how to do it. So what you ask? Well, the manager had to drive to the store to do it. 20 minutes I waited...I watched the sun go down further and further. The only good thing about the stop? The bike used 3.9 gallons and had gone 215 miles. That's 55 miles to the gallon. Prius who??
Back on the road, I had to make some time up. Anyone who has ever riden an older bike knows that the headlights aren't worth much so I wanted to get home as soon as humanly possible. It's 90 miles exactly from my doorstep to the turn off in Appomattox to get on US460. It was 11 miles from the gas station to the turn off. So I had 101 miles to go as I left the gas station at 7:45. As I mentioned before, the trip was 13 hours exactly and I left at 8 AM sharp. Do the math.
The final leg of my trip consisted of a high average speed, a beaver or some other brown animal bum rushing my bike from the side of the road, 2 state troopers who acted as though they didn't see a red bike flash by them at an unmentionable speed and a swarm of insects that avoided my eyes by committing suicide on my visor.
The final figures for my trip were: 50.5 mpg average fuel consumption, a half quart of oil used in roughly 1300 miles, 1300 miles of road covered and no speeding tickets. I also had 2 days worth of blue feet from my boots, road breath to kill a moose, gain of 10 water weight pounds on the trip down, loss of 10 pounds of sweat on the trip home, and a bad case of dumb-ass in Knoxville.
I can hardly wait to do it again.
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