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The Tale of a 2-Wheel, 4-Day, 6-State Odyssey

Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia, Kentucky, North Carolina, Tennesse

June 1-4, 2001

By Ann Napoletan

When we planned this trip, it was still cold and dreary in Columbus, Ohio. Somehow, just having the trip marked on the calendar helped to brighten the endlessly gray skies, warm the chilly air, and generally ease the winter doldrums.

The ST spent much of the winter in various states of undress, receiving all kinds of attention from the loving hands of her adoring master. Yes, the frosty months between December and March were the ideal time for Russell to concentrate on both routine maintenance tasks and several upgrades to the bike.

As the month of April came and went and the ST’s pieces and parts were still strewn about the garage, Russell joked that we may be going to North Carolina on four wheels rather than two! I just looked at him, wondering how much truth there might be in this statement. As it was, the Blazer stood in for the ST at the annual spring SME event in Hocking Hills, Ohio, in late April.

However, the bike was finished and looking like her old self again in plenty of time for Russell and his mother to take a very pleasant weekend tour through southern Ohio and West Virginia on Mother’s Day weekend.

During May, we took a few short rides, and a small taste made me yearn for more. As I pondered what this trip would be like, I allowed myself the luxury of stepping back through the fond memories of last spring’s North Carolina/Tennessee trip. The 2000 trip was wonderful, but I also remembered how apprehensive I was during the month or so leading up to that, my first camping experience.

This year was different. I knew a bit more of what to expect and lacked the nervousness that was so prevalent a year ago. This time around, I felt nothing but excited as I anticipated the impending 4-day trip. The departure date could not arrive quickly enough to satisfy me.

Preparing for the trip gave me cause to contemplate not only on the details of last year’s North Carolina excursion and plans for the upcoming adventure; it also gave me a chance to reflect on myself and how I have changed in the past two years. While I probably still worry and over-analyze things more than the average person, I feel as though I have a new perspective on life in general. Frenzy and tension no longer rule my world.

And, when I feel myself going to that anxiety-ridden place, I am reminded that in the grand scheme of things, work and other day-to-day frustrations are insignificant. All it takes is a mental walk down the memory lane of one of our trips or a glance at a favorite photograph to make me snap back to true reality and remember what is important. It isn’t the rush hour traffic jam, the line at the grocery store, the project deadline, or the latest political nonsense at the office. What really matters is that which touches the depths of your soul – the people you love, the view from a mountaintop, a moonlit night, cool rain kissing your skin, and new experiences that awaken your senses.

Our departure drew closer and my excitement increased, as did the levels on local rain gauges!

Interestingly enough, May was an extremely wet, unseasonably cold, month here in Columbus. In fact, I just recently heard that we had rain approximately 23 out of 30 days. The two weeks before our trip were nothing but solid rain, and as we checked the forecast each of the 4 days leading up to the trip, it looked like the entire region we were planning to tour was going to be socked in with wet, soggy weather.

I remember sitting at work on May 31^st (Thursday) checking weather.com numerous times throughout the day and praying that the various shades of green would magically disappear from the weather map before our departure later that evening. At that point, we still had not finalized our route, but based on the forecast, one thing was certain – it was going to be a wet trip.

Admittedly, I was a bit disappointed that Mother Nature had chosen not to cooperate; however, I had been so looking forward to this trip and was determined that regardless of how the weather treated us I would make the best of it and have a great time!

By Wednesday evening, I had just about everything I was taking ready to go and in a neat pile in my bedroom. I made a quick run to the grocery store Wednesday night for a few food items, then returned home and went through my weekend travel accessories one more time to ensure that I had not missed anything.

Packing has been simplified with the help of two items; an always-packed, ready-to-go toiletry kit and a fanny pack filled with various first aid necessities, over-the-counter medications (Ibuprofen, allergy & sinus meds, Dramamine, etc.), lip ointment, antibacterial hand gel, and mints. These two bags constantly sit at the ready on the floor in my second floor hallway. For any given trip, I need to add just one or two things and I’m ready to go.

Last May, I learned that I could live for four days with a very minimal clothing supply, but since I had driven my car down to Tellico Plains, Tennessee, I did have a few "extras" stashed in the car just in case! This year was slightly different in that sense. I had decided during the early planning stages that I wanted to ride the bike down, so this meant my ability to pack light was about to be put to the test!

I also knew that no matter what I took, Russell would insist upon paring it down even further. Realizing this, I decided to over-pack just a bit to ensure that when he began eliminating things from my allotted space in the dry bag, I would be certain to have what I needed. A couple of days into the trip, we sat in the tent laughing about the fact that he attempted to enforce the "one pair of underwear for every two days" rule (for the record, I persisted on this point and we compromised with three pairs for four days...). That evening, before we fell asleep, I let him in on my little secret, telling him I had intentionally thrown a few extra items in the bag. I have a feeling I may live to regret this moment when he limits my provisions even more for the next trip!

The week of Memorial Day had been a busy one for both of us, me getting things squared away at home before the trip, and Russell still unpacking from a 3-day tour over the long holiday weekend. Our schedules and life maintenance duties left very little free time, so we didn’t see much of each other that week.

At the office on Thursday, May 31, sometime between weather checks, we caught up with each other to confirm "the plan". We agreed on a Thursday evening departure despite the questionable weather.

After taking care of a few last minute things at home, I packed up the car, kissed my daughter goodbye, and began the short ride over to Russell’s place. When I arrived, he was just finishing a short catnap. The living room was in a state of complete disarray, with clothing, empty dry bags, electrics, and other various and assorted items scattered across the floor.

We had a quick bite to eat before packing, and as we sat in the kitchen, Russell launched into a painfully detailed, extremely candid version of the "safety talk". Now, anyone that knows me knows that I prefer not to think about anything even remotely unpleasant. I tend to don my rose-colored glasses *most* of the time. For this reason, discussing what I should and should not do in the event we are approached by a less-than-upstanding citizen while out in the middle of nowhere just makes me cringe.

Russell realizes how much I dread these discussions, yet each time the subject is raised before a trip he persists, reminding me that it’s better to be prepared than to bury your head in the sand. As much as I would prefer not to deal with these unpleasant thoughts, I do know that he’s right on this point.

As we sat at the kitchen table on this specific evening, he ran through various scenarios, talked about the right and wrong response tactics, possible outcomes, et cetera. All of this seemed to be particularly pertinent for this trip, since we would most likely be camping in remote areas and moving around on a daily basis, rather than setting up at one or two campgrounds and staying put. Before the conversation ended, Russell reminded me of rule #1 – under no circumstances do you allow yourself to be taken to a secondary crime scene.

Even after our talk, at various times while packing and throughout the weekend, I found myself pondering how I would react if attacked. Would I be composed enough to recall our discussions and do what I needed to do? Or, would I panic and experience total brain lock? I pray that I never have to find out how I would respond; however, should something dreadful happen, I hope I would be able to keep my wits about me enough to fight off or outsmart my attacker.

After our discussion, we moved to the living room to begin packing. I emptied my duffel bag, and as I glanced over at Russell, I noticed a puzzled and somewhat irritated expression on his face. Immediately, I knew just what he was thinking!

"What’s all that?!!?" he asked.

Before I could answer, he took the stack of clothing and began sorting through it.

"This can go, this can go, and ..what are all of these? You only need one pair of panties for every two days. The rest of this stays here."

Knowing that I had intentionally exceeded my limit on clothes, I had only two objections. I wanted to take a tank top and pointed out that I didn’t have the luxury of running around topless should we experience a heat wave. I needed something cool to wear. I also wanted one pair of underwear for each day. After giving it some thought, Russell consented to the tank top – apparently, the topless/heat wave comment provided ample justification. However, we had to compromise on the underwear…. It was a satisfactory compromise, though, and after all, by this point, I just wanted to get on the road.

We finished packing the dry bags with clothing and camping gear and as Russell began to bungee them to the luggage rack, I worked on filling the saddle bags and tank bag with the camera, some food, water, our fanny packs, and a few other necessities.

I snapped a couple of photos to mark the beginning of our four-day odyssey, then we geared up, closed up the house, and took off. It was just about 11:00pm EST when we pulled away from Russell’s subdivision.

The rain had subsided. It was a bit cool, but considering recent weather, a fairly pleasant evening. We hit the freeway, the plan being to ride to Marietta and camp at one of our favorite spots in the Wayne National Forest.

Before we were out of Columbus, I noticed Russell making an exaggerated motion with his head. Either a very large bug had collided with his face shield, or, more likely, he had forgotten something. Hmmm, what could we have forgotten? Well, I didn’t remember seeing him pack the ground tarp; maybe that was it.

It wasn’t long before I was drifting in and out of consciousness, finding it extremely difficult to stay awake. I think I slept for the majority of the trip to Marietta. I woke up just as we arrived at Walmart.

As Russell pulled the bike up onto the sidewalk next to the store, the clock read approximately 1:30am. He turned and asked if I knew what we forgot. "The tarp?" I asked. He smiled and nodded.

We wandered through the store until we found what we needed, then headed for the register. Obviously at this hour, there were no crowded aisles, no lines -- *this* is the time to shop!! As we paid for the tarp, the friendly 50-ish cashier asked where we were coming from and where we were headed. Her eyes sparkled as she listened to us; it was evident that she was intrigued. She told us that she and her husband used to ride, but that they had been forced to give it up after he had back surgery. What a shame – her face was radiant as she talked about their riding history. It was clear that she missed it….

This was just the beginning of our trip, and our first encounter with one of many past and present riders. It really is amazing that such a bond, a fellowship if you will, exists among those who participate in this sport. No matter how many trips I take or how many riders I meet, I think I will continue to marvel at this aspect of motorcycling. I hope I never get to a point where I take this for granted.

After a quick restroom break (ask Russell and he’ll tell you that "quick" is in the eye of the beholder…), we added the new tarp to the rest of our camping gear then jumped back on the bike. We were headed for one of our choice camping spots – a secluded little spot in Wayne National Forest.

It was late (or early depending upon your perspective) and we had both worked all day. We were very tired, so needless to say, the remainder of the ride seemed to take an eternity! Of course I had the luxury of dozing, while Russell had to remain alert while maneuvering the dark, desolate road leading through Wayne.

We finally pulled into the camping area around 2:00am. The ground was soaked from the recent rain and the heavy ST dug a huge rut in the soggy grass/mud while making its way to our final destination. I dismounted the bike while Russell coddled it through the ooze and brush that led to our isolated locale. My getting off the bike was a good idea… it’s too bad the same idea didn’t cross our minds later in the trip when we found ourselves in a rather precarious situation!!!

We fumbled with setting up the tent in the dark as a light drizzle descended from the heavens (okay, I fumbled while Russell went about this task for the millionth time under the night sky… like a pro). Actually, considering our level of exhaustion, the time, and the lack of light, I was amazed at how quickly we had the ground tarp down, the tent up, the Therm-A-Rest pads inflated, and our weary bodies snug in the sleeping bags! Without delay, we blew out the candle lantern and drifted off to dreamland. Thankfully, the heavy rain held off until we were inside the tent and out of the elements.

Short on sleep, and still a bit tired from the previous day and late night ride south, we slept late Friday morning. Because it was raining, neither of us was overly motivated to crawl out of the tent for a look at the clock on the ST, but I would guess it was at least 9:00am before our eyes popped open.

Russell was his usual chipper morning self, and I was… well, I was me. Let’s just say I was a little slower getting into chipper mode! My perky touring partner rousted me out of the sleeping bag to make room to set up the "kitchen". Sleeping bags and Therm-A-Rests were tossed aside, and a towel was neatly spread on the floor of the tent to serve as a base for the Whisper Lite camping stove.

As the camp cook went to work, I crept out of the tent and trudged through the tall wet grass to a nearby outhouse. It wasn’t optimal, but it was a "facility". I had yet to become one with nature…but, that would happen before this trip was over!

Upon my return, with complete disregard for the bright red warning adorning a tag inside the tent, Russell grabbed his lighter and fired up the stove. Ahhhhhhhhhhh, instant warmth! He went about heating a can of corn and a can of green beans then transferred those to another pot while he boiled water for ramen noodles. While waiting for the noodles to cook, we snacked on some fresh fruit and the breakfast bars that have become a staple on our trips. The vegetables were soon combined with the steaming mushroom-flavored ramen noodles for a hot, delicious morning meal.

As I describe this unusual breakfast, I smile to myself, knowing there are many people that simply cannot fathom eating ramen noodles and vegetables before noon – and certainly cannot imagine enjoying such a meal in the morning! Believe me, I understand. I was one of the biggest doubters that ever existed. The truth of the matter is, I used to think Russell was nuts!

Long before we began dating, he would appear in my cubicle doorway almost every Monday morning, gushing about his weekend adventures and spewing the benefits of his minimalist travel style. The guy looked fairly normal at first glance, but in all honesty, after hearing some of his stories, I thought he was out of his mind. I could not conceive of what would attract someone to this type of travel!

Two years ago, after work one evening he took me on my first ride (250 miles) and I haven’t been the same since. In the months following, I experienced my first impromptu weekend ride (sans "stuff" – that is, without my fanny pack, without *anything* except the clothes I was wearing when we left Columbus Saturday morning). Then, we progressed a bit further. Russell mustered the courage to take me on my first camping trip last spring. And, guess what??! Not only did this doubter survive – she *loved* it. In fact, it changed her life!

Now, I come into the office gushing about our adventures. Now, people look at me as if I’ve lost *all* of my sense. My family can’t even figure out what has happened in the past couple of years. But, they know I seem to be a little more relaxed, particularly after returning from a weekend on the bike. I am convinced this is the only reason they haven’t had me committed!

To the skeptics, particularly the wives and girlfriends who have no desire to join their SO’s for a ride, I say – try it!! You may be surprised. Get away from the comforts of home and your entire perspective will change. Tension, worries, and strife will first seep, then flow freely in a relieving rush, from your body. Your inhibitions will do the same… It won’t matter how you look or when you had your last hot shower. These things will become irrelevant. And, ramen noodles and vegetables will taste as delicious as prime rib!

The key is doing it right…keeping it simple. For most, this takes years of practice – lots of trial and error. I have been fortunate enough to have a "personal guide" if you will. Russell has it down pat. He has a system… a simple system that works, a system that allows you to soak up the pure pleasure of camping/touring without the pain and hassle of taking along everything you own including the kitchen sink!

After this trip, Phil Ross commented that maybe someday Russell would treat me to a hotel stay. Phil’s words caused me to contemplate that alternative, and I quickly realized that I wouldn’t want to tour all day and find myself in a hotel room at night. Somehow, that would remove the romance and adventure from touring. What would be the point?

Granted, I have yet to spend an entire weekend in a driving rainstorm – should that be the case, a nearby Comfort Inn might sound quite attractive. But, for now, I’m content with our style of touring. I’ll take a tent and sleeping bag over a musty hotel room anytime. I can wake up to an alarm clock at home; I’d much prefer being stirred by the singing birds and smoldering sun warming the tent at dawn. There is just nothing that compares to opening your eyes to the sound of nature’s chorus in the midst of her morning song.

Though the morning started out dreary, by the time we finished breakfast, the rain had subsided and the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds. As we crawled out of the tent to begin breaking camp, Russell looked back at me and said, "I think we’re going to get very lucky today!"

He was right, and that trend continued throughout the trip. Although it rained late almost every evening or early in the morning, and while Columbus was getting pelted with non-stop rain, for the most part, we enjoyed blue skies and sunshine! One thing seemed apparent right away; the weather gods were smiling down on us.

We worked together to dismantle the tent and pack the camping gear, then took a walk down to the nearby lake. Quiet enveloped us and the view was lovely, though not quite as picturesque as our last visit when the same canvas sparkled with the vibrant colors of autumn. There was no doubt that the theme for this trip was *green* -- the generous May rainfall had transformed the winter browns into a million stunningly brilliant shades of green.

By now, it was midday – noon or shortly after. We returned to the bike, geared up, and hit the road for our first full day of riding. I’ve come to so appreciate the West Virginia countryside and our early-June jaunt through the area proved to be as enjoyable as previous trips.

The day alternated between sunny and clear and slightly overcast, but the roads were dry. One thing I’ve noticed is that there is always something that seems to stand out on these tours, a common thread that my brain seems to lock on and continually pick out of the ever-changing landscape - a theme, so to speak.

In the past, it has often been churches – tiny, quaint churches. I recall one trip where we seemed to see people working on their roofs in nearly every little town. Or, it might be interesting bridges. For the next two days, the recurring theme included cows and post offices!

I think we must have passed at least a hundred post offices in West Virginia and Virginia while riding Friday and Saturday! It seemed as though there was a different one around every bend, and it was interesting to compare the various structures, most of which were very modest, and note the town names on each. Many of the communities we passed through didn’t consist of much more than a tiny post office and a general store.

Each ride is different, but I never seem to tire of these quaint little towns. Were it not for the bike, I am certain I would have no reason to pass through these charming villages, and what a shame that would be. It fascinates me to sit back and imagine what life must be like in these places without rush hour traffic and hectic schedules. The pace is entirely different and I’m sure the mindset is unlike anything most of us have ever experienced. It’s almost like stepping back in time. Things must be so much simpler.

I wonder how these folks would survive in our fast-paced world, and how silly they would think we were for scrambling around like madmen all in the name of "being successful". What is "success"?

I would venture to say the people inhabiting these tiny little hamlets have found more true success and certainly more piece of mind than the debt-laden, stress-burdened "successful" people living in $300,000 suburban houses situated on miniscule plots of land!

We rode at a fairly leisurely pace for the remainder of Friday. Well, let me define "leisurely". When riding with Russell, while the bike is in motion, there is no such thing as "leisurely". The ST moves. It moves on the straights and it definitely moves around the curves at a spirited pace. Russell teases that I have no idea what its really like to ride a motorcycle since I’ve only ridden with him and experienced his unique style of riding. He’s right; I imagine I would be bored to tears on a "normal" tour – creeping through turns at what would feel like a snails pace. My ST pilot guarantees a fun ride each and every time out.

And, the beauty of that is his skill. There is never a doubt in my mind he will do whatever is necessary to ensure our safety. His concentration is incredible. Regardless of the number of miles we cover or the number of hours on the bike, his focus never wavers. Yet, he recognizes when his body and mind are tiring and doesn’t hesitate to stop when he needs to.

In any case, we took a "leisurely" pace Friday, meaning that we didn’t really have anyplace we absolutely had to be at a certain time. The loose plan was to camp on SR-150, the Scenic Byway, but we weren’t on a schedule.

We stopped in various spots along the way to take in the scenery, enjoy a snack break, and chat about the last leg of the ride and what was yet to come. Along the way, we snapped a couple of photos on SR-16 and came across the first of two turtles that we would rescue from an unpleasant fate as they tediously made their way across what must have seemed like a never-ending piece of pavement!

Late in the afternoon, we stopped for gas, then took an extended break in the tiny parking lot of a Clay, West Virginia, IGA grocery store. As Russell parked the bike and we removed our gear, I noticed a gentleman that appeared to be the store manager eyeing us. We went into the unpretentious store, selected some less-than-fresh fruits and vegetables from the produce department and headed to the register to dole out cash to cover the exorbitant prices.

The store manager approached us, asking where we were from and where we were headed. He seemed curious and maybe even envious, but was very friendly and offered that we could use the store’s "dining room" and partake of some free coffee if we wished. We thanked him, but politely declined, and made our way back to the ST to share this late afternoon snack of apples, cherries, bananas, and tomatoes.

As we stood by the bike eating, chatting, and reminiscing over the events of the past 24 hours, the store manager came by again in an attempt to further satisfy his curiosity. He jokingly told us about the picnic table he used to have at the store…, before it got stolen, that is! Russell and I just looked at each other, amused by this story since prior to leaving the bike to go into the IGA, Russell advised me to leave my gear beside the bike – "Nobody steals anything in these little towns." Nothing except beat up old picnic tables, anyway!!

We finished our snack, bid the manager farewell, and disposed of our trash. Russell filled the water bottle at a hose the store used to water their plants and with that, we were once again on our way!

Shortly after leaving the IGA, we passed a lovely waterfall situated just below the road on private property. Russell found a spot to turn the bike around and we returned to have another look and snap a photo of this peaceful retreat. Oh, how tempting it sounds to give up all the trappings of living in Ohio’s capital city - in return for a simpler life in the country.

Imagine waking up in the morning and replacing the rush hour commute with a quiet hour sitting in the sunshine sipping a cup of tea. And, instead of spending the morning surrounded by stressed out ladder climbers, enjoying a leisurely visit with the birds, chipmunks, and squirrels as they frolic about the yard. …Ahhhh, maybe someday.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon and early evening, we continued our tour of West Virginia, soaking up the breathtaking scenery. As the sun began to set, we pulled into Cass for a look at the scenic railroad.

A light drizzle fell as we parked the bike in the empty parking lot and walked toward the nearby buildings. I spotted a restroom and decided to take advantage of the indoor facilities. Before I was finished, I heard a tapping sound coming from the window high above the sink. I glanced up and saw an unusually tall, long-haired 12-year old smiling down at me from outside! Never a dull moment when you’re travelling with Russell!!

After our restroom break, we took a relaxed stroll along the buildings. A gaggle of local gentlemen holding court outside the local general store spoke to us as we passed. It was like stepping back in time…

The Cass Scenic Railroad was built in 1901 and used to carry lumber to the West Virginia Pulp and Paper Mill, which was an immense operation from 1908 to 1922. By 1950, the business was declining and in mid-1960, the rail-haul logging operation ceased and a scrap dealer was subcontracted to dismantle the line.

Later that year, an effort was initiated to save the railroad and convert it into a tourist attraction. Doubters said it couldn’t be done, but during the first year, tourists flocked to Cass, and the expansion continued. The entire line was opened in 1968 and nearly ten years later the West Virginia Department of Natural Resources acquired Cass’ former logging company properties.

Many of the town’s old buildings were renovated and restored. The locomotives used today are the same ones used back in the early 1900’s, and present day visitors to the Cass Scenic Railroad State Park can ride in old logging flat-cars that have been converted into passenger coaches.

A ride from Cass up the mountain eleven miles to the second highest point in West Virginia, Bald Knob (elevation 4,842) must be breathtaking in the fall!

With dusk approaching and our visit to Cass coming to a close, Russell consulted the maps, and we geared up to head for the night’s campsite. The plan was to camp in the Monongehela National Forest, however, the weather didn’t look too promising. As it began to rain, Russell scoped out possible quasi-campsites in the small town we were passing through.

He slowed down as we motored past a church with a large overhang. Perfect spot, he must have been thinking. However, there was a car in the parking lot and a light on in what appeared to be an office. I must say that I breathed in internal sigh of relief – it just didn’t seem right to camp outside of a church, at least not one on a corner so close to the road!

Around the corner from the church, Russell eyed a minimart just as the skies opened up. What had been a light rain suddenly exploded into a downpour as we pulled under the canopy. Tired from a full day, we both took a seat on the raised ledge that was home to the gas pumps… As the rain continued to fall, Russell suggested querying the store clerk about the weather forecast. We walked inside and asked the young woman behind the counter, but she had no idea what the outlook was for the following day. With that, we returned to our perches outside the store.

It was entertaining to observe the people who stopped to get gas while we waited out the rain. Some gawked, some glanced, and some did everything they could to avoid catching our eye. As I sat there, I had to wonder what must have been going through their minds. Were they wondering who we were, where we had come from, and where were going?? Or, did they even care? Were they envious of our apparent freedom? Or, did they fear what they thought we might be? Oh, if they could only see us during the week in our office attire!

At one point during our break, Russell pulled his tiny flashlight from the tank bag. With a quick "I’ll be right back", he headed in the direction of a large run down house across the street. He stepped up onto the spacious front porch and surveyed things. I had a feeling I knew what he was thinking. As my mind worked, he disappeared to the back of the house. Hmmm….must be checking out the back porch, I assumed. I knew full well that he was considering making this our home away from home for the evening. Right about now, the church overhang was looking pretty attractive! At least there, we would be in good company!! However, the thought of setting up the tent on the porch of this old house, so close to the street and just a stone’s throw from the minimart – well, that was a very disconcerting thought to me!

After a few minutes, Russell returned to tell me that the porch was pretty rickety, though roomy. However, it probably wasn’t the ideal spot considering its proximity to the road and the store. He also mentioned that sleeping there would have meant sharing space with at least one rather large cockroach he found on the back porch.

Oh, thank goodness. Narrowly escaped a camping experience that I didn’t mind missing! And, we were in luck. The rain seemed to be subsiding, so we geared up to search for a spot to spend the night. After travelling a few miles without coming across a suitable overhang, Russell turned to me and said we were going up onto the Scenic Byway (SR-150). That had been the original plan, but when the weather turned on us, it was questionable as to what it might be like at higher elevations.

Russell found a nice spot for us to set up camp in a gravel (thank goodness for those Therm-A-Rest pads!) trailhead parking area. It was far enough off the road that passersby were not likely to notice us. By the time we arrived, darkness had set in, but as with the night before, the rain held off until we had the tent up.

Up until this point, I had timed my "nature calls" with gas and sightseeing stops so that I had the luxury of using indoor facilities. Now, however, we were out in the middle of nowhere! While the Wayne National Forest campsite had a rather unpretentious outhouse, this spot had no such amenity!

The time had come -- I finally had to face the inevitable. It was just me, the great outdoors, and a rather damp (from the humidity) roll of toilet paper… I’m happy to say that all went well, and the entire process got easier (and actually felt somewhat liberating) as the trip progressed. I continue to maintain, though, that one of life’s greatest injustices is the manner in which our male counterparts can take care of these things. For them, the entire process is quick, effortless, and discreet! It just isn’t fair!

With that important piece of business taken care of, it was time for bed. The elevation was about 4,500 feet and it was relatively chilly, but the sleeping bags were cozy and toasty warm. Russell and I were both exhausted from the day’s activities, so falling asleep was not a problem. We slept soundly and woke up much earlier Saturday morning than we had the previous day.

The morning was dreary, but it wasn’t raining which was a positive! The air was brisk, so when Russell suggested hot ramen noodles for breakfast my mouth began to water. The camping stove provided a nice heat source inside the tent, and the thick flavorful soup made the perfect meal.

Once we had filled our tummies, I took a moment to walk out onto the road… we were truly "out there". As I looked down the long stretch of pavement in either direction, I saw absolutely nothing. And, there wasn’t a sound to be heard except for the birds that kept us company as we began to break camp.

After two days, I felt like we were getting this "camping-for-two" thing down to a science and working together nicely on both setting up and breaking camp as well as packing and unpacking the bike. We fell into a comfortable routine and each of us moved about taking care of what had to be done without the need for much chatter or direction. Each day, it got to be more methodical and effortless….

Because I had felt a twinge of motion sickness the prior day, I decided to take a Dramamine before we commenced the day’s riding. This proved to be a big mistake! The tiny little pill made me *extremely* sleepy! In fact, as hard as I fought it, I couldn’t stay awake!! As we crossed the border into Virginia, I continued to struggle until I just couldn’t hold my eyes open.

I was jarred from my slumber when my head dropped abruptly and my helmet "klunked" Russell’s. He apparently had already sensed that I was dozing and had asked once if I was okay. With that first "klunk", he turned again and asked if I needed to stop, reminding me that we were on some seriously twisty roads that required full concentration and just the right set up for the turns.

"No, I’m fine," I answered as I sat up straight, determined to stay awake.

Just a few minutes later, *KLUNK*. I knew I was in trouble… I was angry with myself and sensed that was nothing compared with what Russell was feeling. He wasted no time pulling into the parking lot of a tiny roadside post office.

"What are you doing?" I asked when he stopped the bike.

He glared at me and pointed to a nearby picnic table under a tree. "Go take a nap."

Feeling like a scolded little girl, I marched over to the bench and curled up using my jacket as a pillow. Inside, my heart raced and I was sure I would never fall asleep. Although the setting was quiet and peaceful, I was upset. Mad at myself because I couldn’t stay awake, and bothered by the fact that Russell was acting as though he thought I *wanted* to fall asleep and thereby place us in danger! He just didn’t understand…he didn’t understand… Before I knew it, I was waking up – almost an hour later!

Still drowsy and wondering where I was for a second, I looked around for Russell. I realized he was over by the bike, and when he noticed I was awake, he began to walk toward me.

"Is he angry?" I wondered.

No, he was fine, and actually, we’ve had quite a few laughs about this incident in the weeks following the trip.

Now that I was awake and feeling rested, we checked the map and geared up to continue our ride. As we pulled out of the post office, we passed a beat-up pickup truck. In the bed of the truck stood a small black and white calf, accompanied by an older gentleman who had his arm around the animal. Kind of an odd sight, but not quite as odd as the one we would see later in the trip – as we drove down the road, I did a double take to make sure I was seeing what I thought I was seeing. Sure enough, right there in the median stood a very bewildered-looking full-grown cow. Obviously, the poor, frightened animal had lost her way and remained there in the grassy area between the two roadways frozen in a dazed state of confusion. The pitiful cow looked like lost child. I wonder what happened to her….

As Russell adeptly maneuvered the bike through the twists and turns in the road, we approached the Paint Bank, Virginia, General Store. We pulled up to the gas pump, and I went inside to pay for the gas, grab a couple of ice cream sandwiches, and use the facilities.

The woman inside was friendly enough and asked where we were from. I watched her move about behind the counter and found myself wondering about her story. Did she own this place? Had she grown up in Paint Bank? What was her life like on a day-to-day basis? Could I exist happily in a small town, running a small business like this? Would I be content, or would I tire of it? So many thoughts ran through my mind in the few minutes I spent in the store…

Outside, several folks sat on the porch – two women at a little picnic table, and an older man in a rocking chair. As Russell walked by, one of the women asked if he’d like to buy a ticket for a raffle benefiting the local volunteer fire department. He politely declined, explaining that we were just passing through.

After finishing our ice cream, we hopped back on the bike and returned to the road. This part of Virginia is incredibly beautiful, and the bright, sunny day was the icing on the cake. The ST carried us up the mountains and down into the valleys, treating us all the while to breathtaking views – one incredible scenic overlook after another.

Bright blue skies and vast sweeping majestic mountains carpeted in lush greenery of varying shades… I felt so far away from home, from work, and from any hint of a worry or concern. My only regret was that we had only two days remaining!

As we continued our journey, and throughout the weekend, we shared our space with every kind of creature and critter imaginable. Horses, cows, rabbits, groundhogs, and deer were prevalent everywhere we went. But, we also saw a wild turkey, quail, toad, snake, lizard, fox, turtles, and even an exquisite regal-looking owl…. We saw things you don’t see, heard things you don’t hear, and smelled smells you don’t smell when you stay in the comfort of a Holiday Inn. It just isn’t the same. I don’t think I’ll ever be content with traditional travel again.

Sure, it had been almost two days since my last shower, but that was irrelevant. I’m still astonished at the way my entire mindset is transformed once I get out and away from everyday life. It’s different for Russell – he’s pretty easy going *most* of the time. I, however, am not. Although I’m better than I used to be, I still find myself wound up more than I need to be. So, to me, this metamorphosis from "day-to-day me" to "weekend away me" is extraordinary.

Later that afternoon, we stopped at a Food Lion for some rations…the customary ramen noodles, canned vegetables, and some fresh fruit. But, we also treated ourselves to some delicious, fresh Krispy Kreme mini wagon wheel donuts and cold milk. As we relaxed in the parking lot enjoying our snacks, an elderly woman (age 76) pulled into the parking space next to us. She climbed out of her car and smiled admiringly at the bike. She asked a few questions about us, the bike, and our travels as she reminisced about her younger days when she did some riding. It was obvious that she had some very fond memories….

After saying farewell to the kind woman, we moved to the top of the parking lot near an abandoned tractor-trailer to set about unpacking and drying out the camping gear. The mercury had risen substantially and the sun was high and extremely bright. It didn’t take long for the gear to dry out, and both Russell and I took this opportunity to change into warm weather clothes.

In the meantime, a pickup truck approached and a friendly-looking gentleman climbed out. He was a BMW rider and was apparently fascinated with the length of our weekend trip. He had initially stopped to see if we were okay and offer assistance if needed; however, he was soon asking a million questions of Russell.

Later that afternoon, we found our way to Burke’s Garden, Virginia, an absolutely breathtaking bowl-shaped basin situated in the midst of the spectacular mountainous countryside. Discovered by James Burke in the 1740’s, Burke’s Garden is the highest valley in Virginia. The landscape is lush and vibrant; words can’t even begin to describe the brilliant greens of the pastures and the azure blue of the magnificent June sky.

We stopped for pictures near a gushing waterfall, then toured the area for an hour or so just soaking up the awe-inspiring scenery… The land was dotted with farms and farm-life, and the town consisted of little more than a tiny general store. This was a remarkably serene setting; everything felt so clean and pure – it seemed as though it could have just jumped off the canvas of a lovely painting – and now sat gleaming in the bright sunlight just for our indulgence. No matter which direction we turned, we could see mountains off in the distance, and rolling hills in the foreground. It was nothing short of fabulous!

Another day was slipping away from us, and after a quick gas stop in Appalacia, Virginia, it was time to settle for the night. Our camping spot was one that Russell had promised I would fall in love with, and he was certainly right about that.

He had been to this locale over Memorial Day, and had hoped we would be able to return for a night of camping. We wound our way up the mountain and rounded a bend sharp enough to be considered a U-turn. Russell pulled to the side of the road, we dismounted the ST, and he led me up a hill.

"Look at that," he said.

In my 35 years, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a view more spectacular or been to a place closer to heaven. At the top of the hill was a flat ledge, perfect for setting up the tent. We stood on that shelf-like ledge for a few minutes looking out over an absolutely staggering panorama. Clouds floated peacefully among the tree-blanketed mountains, and far, far below, sparse ribbons of asphalt were evident among the greenery.

A light rain descended upon us to dampen the evening’s sunset. However, as we lavished in our new surroundings, the rain was inconsequential. The view was indescribable despite the moisture in the air.

We unpacked the bike and set up the tent just as the skies really opened up, and as we sat in the shelter of our nylon sanctuary, quite a storm kicked up outside. The wind whipped and the rain fell hard, but it didn’t last long. Once the weather passed, we stepped out for another look at the sky and the mountains – nothing short of spectacular.

Russell prepared a dinner of hot ramen noodles, carrots, and hotdogs – and a fresh jalepeno pepper to add a little zip. Exhausted and completely content, I just couldn’t stay awake. As we talked, I was drifting off to sleep….

I awoke in time for dinner, which tasted as pleasing as a perfectly cooked meal in a gourmet restaurant, and my dinner companion – well, I couldn’t have asked for more.

After dinner, Russell stepped out of the tent and called to me to join him. The clouds had dissipated and the moon was full and gleaming brightly in the night sky. It was quiet – just the two of us on this mountaintop – and, we didn’t have a problem in the world. Could it really get any better than this? Part of me knew that reality would return soon enough…. But, for now, life was absolutely perfect.

"Enjoy the moment – just enjoy the moment," I told myself. And, so I did. As I breathed in the clean, fresh air, I smelled the woodsy outdoor scents that surrounded us, basked in the silence, and allowed myself to be immersed in the glow of the moonlight. This was a night that I will never forget.

Russell later joked that it was fortunate I was so tired that night. This area had been part of our pre-takeoff safety talk. Phil Ross had expressed surprise that Russell would consider camping in this area near Lynch, Kentucky. It seems that many people were killed along this road…many, many year ago.

In the early 1900’s, the town of Lynch was purchased by the United States Coal & Coke Company and later became the property of the U.S. Steel Corporation. In order to reside in the town, the family’s head of household was required to be an employee of the mining company. During times of union strife, the atmosphere in Lynch apparently was far from friendly.

However, Russell assured me that was many years ago, and we would be perfectly safe for the night. Weary from our busy day, neither of us wasted any time drifting off to sleep. It wasn’t long, though, before we had visitors.

"Russell…. Russell…. I hear people down by the bike, " I whispered as my heart raced.

The placement of our tent high above the road made it impossible for passersby to see us; however, hiding the bike proved a bit more difficult. Russell did his best by rolling it into a ditch. Although it was visible from just the right angle, there was no way anyone would be able to lift it from its resting place.

Russell called out to let our guests know we were there. "Just wondered if everyone was okay up there," one of them responded. Uh-huh… and just wondered if you could load that bike up on your pickup truck without anyone noticing…

With that out of the way, we nodded off again. Before long, we were awakened by a second group of late night visitors. This time, Russell rose from the tent to find a man climbing up the hill with a flashlight. The headlights of his truck were pointed directly at the ST to illuminate the bike and surrounding area.

As I lay quietly in the tent, I heard the man say he wondered if anyone was camping up on the hill and just wanted to make sure we were alright… Again, my heart was racing. All night, car after car rounded that sharp bend on SR-160. Such a desolate area, or so it seemed! That road carried more middle-of-the-night traffic than we could have expected!

June 3^rd, A shower at last…..????!!

The next morning, we rose fairly early, but took our time to appreciate the glorious surroundings. The air was crisp and cool, and Russell prepared a delicious breakfast of steaming, thick, creamy clam chowder.

After breakfast, we spent an hour or so capturing this scenic wonder on film – shooting picture after picture from various angles and vantage points. Could photographs really do justice to this idyllic setting? Maybe not, but we couldn’t leave without making an attempt to capture this beauty for the sake of reliving the memories years from now.

With the photo opportunity complete and realizing we were nearly out of water, Russell jumped on the bike and headed up the mountain. He said that just across the Virginia/Kentucky border, there was a clear stream that would do nicely for replenishing the water supply. He told me the time and said he would be back in 15 minutes.

Shortly after he left, it hit me! I didn’t have a watch, and the only clock we had was on the bike. If he didn’t return fairly quickly, what would I do? I would have no way of knowing how much time had passed!

The thought was fleeting, and I quickly told myself to relax. I decided to take this time alone to bathe. Enjoy -- luxuriate in this astoundingly harmonious setting. Don’t waste a second of this stunning beauty.

And, indulge I did! I was alone on a mountain…not another soul in sight. Solitude and serenity enveloped me and surrounded me with a warmth and contentment that I can’t begin to describe. So many times in the weeks following our trip, I have thought about this specific spot and wished I could go back there – for a moment or for a day…or longer. But for now, I can only close my eyes and return there in my mind.… What an extraordinary place!! We haven’t talked about the "owe sheet" for awhile, but this one definitely put Russell *way* ahead of the game!

Completing his water retrieval duties in minimal time, my fearless ST pilot returned to the campsite and it was time to begin packing the bike. A feeling of sadness fell over me that morning as it struck me we would only be setting up and breaking camp one more time – we had just one more day remaining.

Why must each day of these wondrous trips pass so quickly when the second hand on the office clock seems to tick away at a snail’s pace awaiting the end of the workday?? How nice it would be to have the freedom to take off and disappear, returning only when and if you came to crave some structure in your life… How long could I do this? Would I tire of it? At this point, I certainly didn’t feel as though such a lifestyle would ever grow old…

But, for now that wasn’t reality. It was time to move on….

We made several trips down the hill with our gear and used the road’s surface to fold the tarp and roll up the tent. As I surveyed the voluminous pile next to the bike – dry bags, Aerostich gear, boots, sleeping bags, Therm-a-Rest pads, and other various and assorted items, I wondered how in the world we would manage to get everything back in its place. It is rather amazing that so much can be packed in *such* a neat and compact manner – everything has its place…. Mayhem is quickly transformed into order.

By now, we had completed this routine several times. Russell and I worked well together…the tasks that comprised packing and unpacking fell into a methodical pattern…a rhythm so to speak. I realized how much more comfortable and at ease I felt with each trip. This time felt different than the others. Everything felt right – extremely natural – even more so than usual.

I remember the first couple of times we rode – I felt like a fish out of water. Someone who is typically so in control was flailing, grasping for familiarity, trying to determine her place in all of this….

Now it was starting to feel more instinctive. Although each trip is a completely new adventure filled with fresh encounters and many "firsts", there is a certain comfort in having been out there before – in feeling like you belong there and you can contribute to the effort of something as small as packing and unpacking… I no longer felt like "just a passenger". I was really feeling like I belonged to this world… like I was meant to be a part of it!

With everything packed away, I turned to look back at this lovely place one more time, trying to capture a mental image that would remain with me forever. Soon we were once again on the ST riding up the mountain toward the stream Russell had used to refill our water supply.

Before arriving at the stream, near the Virginia/Kentucky border, we came upon a narrow road marked by a sign indicating that it led to an FAA radar site. Russell turned onto the road and before long we spotted an immense tower with a large white ball situated atop it. A small building stood at the foot of the tower, and the entire area was enclosed in a high fence.

We took a brief stroll around the back of the fence, and more lovely mountainous views ensued. Russell spotted a tiny toad in the grass and picked him up for a moment before setting him free to continue his playful trek about the grounds.

After snapping a few photos, we returned to the main road and continued our excursion upward. Shortly, we arrived at a quaint little area framed by the mountain on one side and mature trees on the other. We pulled over for a closer look at the water trickling gently down the side of the ridge and into a stream that ran alongside the winding road. This was the place Russell had come to fill the water bottle. The water was crystal clear and tasted as good as any bottled water I’ve had.

Once our water bottle was once again topped off, we hit the road for the short ride into Lynch, Kentucky. There was no mistaking the history of this town as we passed a mine entrance and approached the Kentucky Coal Mining Museum. Although the museum itself was closed, we took a walk around the building gazing into a fountain and taking turns posing on an old railcar, next to a handsome, stoic coal miner (statue), and atop a colossal chunk of coal! Before leaving, we examined a few old pieces of mining equipment that sat next to the museum and I pondered what it must have been like for my grandfather who worked in the coal mines of Western Pennsylvania many years ago.

A little further and we stopped at another lovely scenic overlook. This time, Russell used the break to take care of a nature call. On the return trip up a rugged, overgrown slope, he found himself in pain – a thorn had found its way into the heel of his hand, and was already looking red and quite irritated by the time he made his way back to the road. As he tried to dig the object out from beneath his skin, I joked with him… Although the male species certainly won out in the area of bladder-emptying convenience, this seemed like a slight attempt at evening things out just a bit. Of course, I was kidding – I really was sorry that his little outing resulted in such discomfort!

We snacked on some peanuts and enjoyed a few laughs before moving on. The ride through these mountainous twisties near Big Stone Gap was truly magnificent. And, the weather was cooperating perfectly. It had warmed up and the sun was shining brightly. The brilliant light blue sky was embellished with white puffy cotton-like clouds that floated effortlessly through the atmosphere…

Soon, the distinct scent of rain filled the air, and just as the droplets began to fall from the heavens, we happened upon a deserted old mud-slat log cabin. It appeared as though someone was attempting to restore the structure, or possibly working on moving it to another location for restoration. A large pile of carpet and wallpaper scraps, among other things, sat just yards from the cabin itself. I stepped gingerly onto the front porch, making sure it was sturdy enough to hold my weight, while Russell went around back.

We met inside and looked around. The place was tiny and it was hard to imagine who had lived there and under what circumstances. The logs were cut with notches for electrical wiring, so the structure had obviously been built after electricity. However, it was quite rustic. We walked up the steep, narrow steps to the second floor and looked out the open frame to the nearby road and surrounding trees.

The cabin provided shelter from the rain and some interesting food for thought. It is places such as this that you come across while travelling the back roads by motorcycle – places like this that you’ll never discover by travelling on four wheels at 75MPH down a four-lane highway.

It is such a tragedy that everyone can’t experience the unique charm of such out-of-the-way places. These treasures and the spectacular gift of nature; these things have been given to everyone. And, so many people rush through life without realizing such blessings exist. Cherish them; take time to marvel at their wonder. Get out and away from the dull, senseless everyday world. On two wheels or four – or on two feet – revel in simplicity and by doing so, you will open up a whole new realm and find a part of yourself you never knew existed.

The rain didn’t last long, and we continued our ride. Along the way, we stopped to enjoy the view at an impressive overlook on SR-209. A cute young couple soon joined us. They were obviously from the area and appeared to be friendly, like most of the folks you come across while on the road. I asked if they wouldn’t mind taking a photograph of us. The girl kindly obliged and I thanked her before they walked toward their pickup truck.

We met so many good-natured, hospitable people during our four-day travels. From the couple at the overlook, to the clerks in stores, to a jovial gentleman passing by on an ATV – and of course, the fellow bikers we waved to along the way, as well as those who stopped to offer help if we needed it. Such a refreshing change from the hustle and bustle of the city! Unlike city folk, who tend to prefer to look away rather than make eye contact, the people of these small towns are open and welcoming, happy to offer a smile, a friendly "hello", and even a helping hand!

Another day was quickly slipping away, but our goal was to make it to Tellico Plains, TN, early enough that night to stop in to visit Jack Hunt before he left for work at 10pm. We made a fuel stop near the North Carolina/Tennessee border, and Russell eyed a nearby Sonic Hamburger Drive-In. He looked over at me with a smile and asked how I’d like some *real* food.

Unable to pass this up, I agreed and we headed over to Sonic. Russell parked the bike and we found a spot at a table then used the nearby intercom to order burgers, fries, soda, and a milkshake. The food tasted great, and free entertainment consisted of watching the restaurant’s customers observing us! So many interesting looks…. Oh, the thoughts that must have been dancing through their heads! The bike was loaded down like a barge, and after three days on the road, we were looking pretty rough…. The entire experience was very amusing. I almost feel like it must be wrong to enjoy this as much as I do! It’s just so incredibly fun to don an entirely different persona – to become someone completely different than you are during the week!

After our greasy and fat-laden, but scrumptious meal, we spent the waning daylight hours riding through the picturesque Cherokee and Pisgah National Forests before stopping at Kroger for one last break prior to beginning the final leg of our trip to Tellico Plains.

As always, the Kroger stop garnered plenty of stares – both inside the store and as we sat on a bench outside munching on fresh fruit and musing over experiences of the past few days. This had been such an unforgettable trip. And, like all the others, this taste of the road made me yearn for more. It was hard to believe how quickly the time passed and the realization that we would be returning to reality soon was difficult to swallow. A part of me wanted this trip to last forever….

By the early evening hours, Russell and I were both beginning to feel the effects of a long, but wonderful day. I was having trouble staying awake as the ST carried us in the direction of Jack’s place. In fact, as we neared our final destination, I began to have trouble focusing on my surroundings and my eyes started to play tricks on me. An inanimate object, like a mailbox on a post at the side of the road, took on the shape and lifelike movement of an animal darting out in front of the bike. I hoped we were close to Jack’s, as I sensed that Russell was beginning to tire as well.

Although I tried to make out familiar landmarks that might give me a hint as to our whereabouts and proximity to Jack’s house, it wasn’t until Russell slowed to turn into the driveway that I realized where we were. I allowed myself to breathe a sigh of relief when I spotted the "Hunt" mailbox… then, before I knew what hit me, I realized we were about to dump the bike.

The ST, loaded down like a pack mule, hit a loose, very deep patch of gravel and I felt the rear tire slip away. As my brain attempted to process what was happening, I realized that even the most adept pilot would not be able to save this. We were going down…. And, in a split second, down we were. It was almost like an out-of-body experience.

I felt as though I was on the outside watching the bike tumble to her side, taking us with her. Once we made contact with the driveway, I laid there motionless for what felt like an eternity, just waiting for the hefty ST to fall on top of us.

Then, I heard Russell’s voice. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Uh…. Uh-huh," I responded, still stunned by what had just happened.

At that point, I was fairly sure it was over and we were fine. We both stood up and dusted ourselves off. Now, *how* would we get the bike up? Surprisingly enough, the two of us were able to right the massive 2-wheeled machine and Russell coddled the bike the rest of the way up the steep, winding driveway as I followed behind on foot.

When I got to the top, Russell and Jack were examining the ST for damage and it appeared as though the only harm done was to the tipover wing, which was cracked. Not too bad, all things considered.

By now, it was nearly time for Jack to leave for work. As we had a few final laughs over our driveway spill and my bewildered reaction, I joked with Russell that I thought I’d just walk the quarter mile or so down the road to the Cherokee Campground…

However, the gallant Jack Hunt came to my rescue offering me a ride down to the road on his white horse…. (read: Jack gave me a lift down the driveway in his pickup truck)! From there, I hopped back on the ST for the short jaunt to the campground.

Russell had promised me earlier in the day that I would finally be able to take a shower once in Tellico Plains. Though the 3-day lack of bathing facilities had not bothered me, the knowledge that a hot shower was awaiting me at Cherokee was like a tasty carrot dangling just beyond the reach of a ravenous bunny.

We shared the campground with only one other family across the way in a large camper. After unloading the bike, we went to work setting up the tent for the last time this trip. With the Therm-A-Rests inflated and the sleeping bags out of their stuff sacks, we were ready for a good night’s sleep.

Although I had planned to bathe in the morning, visions of hot water streaming from the shower were dancing through my head. I announced to Russell that I had decided to shower before going to bed, and gathered my toiletries, grabbed the small flashlight, and headed down the path toward the bathhouse.

As I approached the structure, I couldn’t quite remember how it was set up, but noticed a large door in the center of the building. I pulled the handle, but realized it was padlocked. If memory served me right, the women’s shower was on the left side of the building. Sure enough, there was another door…. Ahhhh – that hot shower was but moments away from becoming reality. I reached for the door and gave it a tug. Nothing….

I pulled harder… still nothing. It must be locked!!!!

Muttering to myself that I just couldn’t believe I was in the midst of a repeat of last spring’s "no water at Cherokee" experience, I trudged back up the path to the tent. Just as Russell noticed the approaching footsteps in the gravel, I heard him say, "Uh-oh, *this* can’t be good."

He asked what was wrong and I explained that I couldn’t get into the bathhouse. He quickly reached for his Tevas and assured me that he’d get me in. We sauntered back down the path and he led me to the door I had already attempted to open. He pulled the handle…. Nothing. He yanked a little harder… We both looked up to find a padlock securing the door. A check of the men’s side revealed the same thing.

I suppose at this point, Russell expected me to have a mini-meltdown, but to me it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, the thought of a hot shower sounded mighty appealing. But, at least there was a spigot at the campsite, so I could use cold water for a sponge bath. Yes, I was feeling pretty grimy after almost four days, but in the grand scheme of things, it really didn’t matter. I was right where I wanted to be with the person I wanted to be with. We had just one day left, and I wasn’t about to let the lack of shower put a damper on things.

We said goodnight, extinguished the candle lantern, and were quickly lulled into a peaceful slumber by the soothing sound of chirping crickets….

On Monday morning, we were awakened by the booming sound of a thunderstorm resonating through the otherwise quiet air. Maybe our weather luck had finally run out… It was early, so we laid there for awhile talking and listening to the sound of the rain thrashing against the tent. Apparently, the seams on the roof needed sealing as tiny water droplets had begun to invade our space.

Fortunately, the rain didn’t last long and soon the sky began to clear. Jack pulled into Cherokee at 8:30 on the dot. The prior evening, we had decided to go to breakfast together after his third shift duties.

Russell and I jumped in the truck and Jack headed toward the café in town. Along the same lines as the repeat bathhouse experience, the quaint little café was closed – just like it was when we visited last year! Jack quickly suggested an alternative – a new diner situated next to a junkyard. We pulled into the parking lot and were greeted by a friendly junkyard dog… now, *this* is what you call ambience!!

The diner was great! A handful of tables were populated by locals – mostly of the male variety -- busily chattering about the latest happenings in Tellico Plains. The morning news played on a television set mounted in the corner as waitresses moved about serving coffee and plates heaped with eggs, home fries, and pancakes. The place was charming; decorated with old photographs of the area and various mementos from years gone by.

As we enjoyed a delicious breakfast, Jack spun a few tales for us. I could listen to him for hours… his colorful stories are sure to bring a smile to the face of anyone lucky enough to share time with him. While we talked, he mentioned a deer farm up the road and asked if we’d like to see it. He also offered to take us out to the log cabin he built with his father.

The highlights of our four-day adventure are too countless to name, but this very special Monday morning was certainly high among them. Jack was his usual hospitable, gracious self, and we loved every minute of the tour he led us on.

Around every bend, there was an interesting or funny new story… and, I was amazed at the way he was able to provide tidbits of history and trivia on various houses and other landmarks along the way. As we traveled the narrow country roads, Jack recounted various times, places, and experiences of his youth – growing up right here in Tellico Plains. His vivid memories and precise descriptions painted a clear picture of life in this lovely little town. I was fascinated by all he had to say….

The deer farm was spectacular. My only regret was that I had left my camera back at Cherokee. The landscape was magnificent in and of itself, but the sight of so many graceful deer made it all the more extraordinary. There were several distinct areas – a pasture near the entrance contained a large group of spotted deer that had what appeared to be stub-like horns. Jack explained that this particular species retains their spots throughout life.

Further up the road, there were two massive fenced areas. The bucks were isolated in one section, while the other area was home to a large group of does and fawns. The animals were resting in the shade provided by mature trees, which lined the road. We stood quietly in the bed of Jack’s truck gazing at the elegant animals as they kept a close, watchful eye on us. Finally, one rose, then another, and soon the entire herd was heading off to safer ground. One mother lagged slightly behind as her baby nuzzled under her for some nourishment.

There are few places where you can experience such a remarkably beautiful part of nature. I felt like I was a million miles away from Columbus, Ohio, at the other end of the universe. And, to think people are actually fortunate enough to spend their lives in this idyllic setting….

Our next stop was a charming log cabin built by Jack and his father. When we pulled up, I couldn’t believe my eyes. This secluded place was like something out of the movies. An inviting porch swing beckoned us, and we sat for a moment taking in the pleasing surroundings. Trees surrounded the cabin and the yard was dotted with bird feeders. The inside of the cabin was as delightful as the outside, exuding a warm, welcoming coziness. I would have been perfectly content to make my home right here…..! It really doesn’t take much to make me happy….

Unfortunately, we were running out of time. We made our way back to Cherokee to break camp, then hopped on the bike for the short ride over to Jack’s. We found Mr. Hunt doing some work on his ST, and right there in front of the workshop was Jack’s new toy – a Suzuki dual purpose bike. Well, this bike to Russell was like candy to a baby. When Jack suggested that he hop on and take her for a ride, my 12-year old riding partner’s face absolutely lit up.

I sat and talked with Jack in the late morning sun while the sound of the DP bike hummed in the distance. It wasn’t long before Russell appeared out of the trees at the top of the driveway. By the time he reached us, I could see his eyes sparkling from beneath the helmet just above the huge childlike grin on his face. I knew one thing for sure – there was no doubt going to be a dual purpose bike in Russell’s not so distant future! The gleam in his eyes brought a smile to my face as it was obvious that he’d had a ball on the bike!

While at Jack’s we were entertained by the five ducks that now inhabited a pen near the house. What started out as an Easter present for his daughter had apparently grown… you can’t just have one lonely duck, so Jack found some friends for him. The ducks waddled around the pen in typical duck-style, making a racket with their chorus of quacks. The highlight of the show was watching the ducks hop one-by-one into the small swimming pool, then drink from a hose that hung over the fence! Quite a spectacle!

The time had come to bid Jack farewell until next time. We had so enjoyed the time spent with this gem of a southern gentleman. Although I’ve known Jack only a short time, I consider myself lucky to count him as a friend! Some people just have a special way about them – something that touches you in a very unique manner. Jack is one of those exceptional people….. I’m so glad to have met him.

It didn’t seem possible, but we were about to start the final leg of our trip before heading home. We took our time crossing the scenic Cherohala Skyway – such a spectacular breathtaking ride through the mountains. We stopped a few times for pictures and met up with two couples from Mississippi. These folks were a long way from home, and obviously preferred cushy hotel accommodations to the roughing it style of touring I had come to love. Their shiny BMW bikes carried only the jean and t-shirt clad riders with absolutely no sign of any other touring gear. They could just as easily have been on a ride around the block as on a trip from another state! To each his own, I guess.

The Skyway was as beautiful as I had remembered, providing views nothing short of heavenly. Water ran down the side of the mountains in a clean, pure stream, and as we climbed in elevation, tiny strands of pavement were just barely visible in the blanket of greenery that covered the mountainous terrain.

Ever since the shower incident at Cherokee, Russell had been talking about bathing in the Cheoah River near Tapoco, North Carolina. It had turned into a lovely, very warm, sunny day, so I didn’t doubt this was still in his plan. After a gas stop in Robbinsville, he navigated the bike to the very spot we stopped at last May.

We left the bike at the side of the road and descended a small rocky embankment that led to the water. Russell wasted no time shedding the Aerostich and everything he had on beneath it. The word "modesty" does not exist in this man’s vocabulary. He jumped in the obviously frigid water as I sat sunning myself and snapping photos. He played for awhile, then made his way upstream against the current and onto a large rock to pose for a picture.

By the time he returned to where I was sitting, I was soaking my tired feet in the refreshing water.

"Get in here", he said abruptly.

In my usual style, I hesitated… a lot. I wanted to get in – Russell was obviously having a ball, but we weren’t that far from the road. What if someone saw me?!!!?

Finally, after quite a bit of coaxing and coercing, I left my clothing… and my modesty… on a rock by the shore and jumped into the freezing cold river. And, I was so glad he talked me into it. We had a great time splashing around in the water and this turned into one of my fondest memories as I look back on the four days we spent together.

With another adventure in the books, it was time to head off to Deal’s Gap for a few runs through the Dragon. We stopped at the CROT store for a couple of t-shirts and some ice cream. It was Monday and the place was fairly deserted, though we did take time to pay homage at the foot of the dragon’s tree and have a gander at the handful of bikes in the camping area.

Our runs through the Gap were spirited to say the least. We were doing some serious leaning and dragging all kinds of ST parts! After one pass, Russell turned around at the dam overlook and immediately started through again. Here we were two-up and loaded down with two sizable dry bags, yet we were running at speeds most solo riders have never attempted.

What a rush! There’s nothing like hitting a turn just perfectly! In and out with a smoothness most can only dream of!! I had no concept of what we looked like together on the ST running the Gap and had often wished we’d had some pictures of us two-up.

Well, on our third run, we rounded a bend and noticed a rider lying in the ditch at the side of the road, poised to take a photograph. There was a group of 5 or 6 on the other side of the road and we pulled over. The group of riders had seen our previous runs and couldn’t believe what the ST and its gifted pilot were capable of – even two-up!

They were curious about where we were from and where we had been, so Russell quickly ran through our itinerary, then pulled out the DeLorme maps and began to point out some of the choicest roads in the area. These guys were salivating and writing down route numbers as fast as Russell could rattle them off!

We were thrilled when our new acquaintances offered to shoot a couple of photos of us coming through the Gap. About a week after our return to Columbus, Jim emailed two jpg’s to Russell – the photos were spectacular!! I was overwhelmed when I saw just how far over we were on that pig of a bike! As it turned out, those photos caused quite a stir when posted to the one of the internet lists Russell subscribes to! We received some scathing remarks as well as some very kind words recognizing Russell’s talent as a rider.

The comments were interesting to read, but were generally inconsequential. In the two years I’ve been riding with Russell, I have never seen him take an unnecessary risk. He knows his limits and those of the bike, and rides within them. When I’m on the back of the ST, I trust him implicitly. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be there…

Well, we had been blessed with four glorious days on the road, but it was 5pm, and the fun and frolic was drawing to an end. We made one final stop at the dam overlook before heading out US 129 toward Knoxville.

A slight delay ensued not far into our journey when a flagman for a utility crew stopped us. As is so typical when in Russell’s company, though, even a delay turns into an entertaining escapade. John the flagman initially seemed to be a bit reserved; however, he soon came out of his shell and began chatting with us as we waited for the signal to continue on down the road. Before we departed, Russell asked me to get off the bike and pose for a photo with John who was grinning from ear to ear. So, on the last page of the photo album lies a picture of John and I, ST in the foreground, utility truck in the background. Just another friend we met along the way…..

I surprised myself by staying awake for most of the trip back to Columbus. My mind was busy with thoughts of the past four days, and I think that is what kept me from drifting off. We made only one stop, just south of Lexington, for gas and a bite to eat.

When offered a taste of cold clam chowder straight from the can, I turned my nose up. However, Russell seemed to be enjoying it so much that I thought I’d try just one spoonful. Mmmm..not bad! My dinner companion walked away for a minute and when he returned, the chowder can was empty! You would think by now I would have learned – don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!! You just might find you love the very thing you thought you would despise!

We pulled into Russell’s place at 12:15am. Oh, what a phenomenal journey this had been; so many memories were permanently etched in my mind. It really is a shame that everyone can’t experience the things Russell has introduced me to. It’s too bad they can’t see the world from the back of a motorcycle where you are an active part of the environment – reaching out and touching it, rather than a bystander who just hovers nearby watching everything pass him by.

We had seen sunsets and rainstorms, community festivals and old-fashioned drive-in movie theatres. There was the night I watched the ST’s odometer turn over to 77,777.7. The mouth-watering simply delectable meals of ramen noodles! There were the stares that permeated us and the friendly smiles that welcomed us… There was the layer of dirt and sweat that coated our skin… and the cold, refreshing bath that we shared in the Cheoah River!

And, there were some of the most spectacular, magnificent views that can be seen anywhere in the world….

For four days, we left our worries and our office personas behind… we were wanderers. No schedule, no commitments. Just the pure, unadulterated joy of being on the road – alone, yet together.

This trip provided much-needed nourishment for my soul, yet I am not yet satiated. Though I don’t want to be greedy, my desire to experience more cries out for recognition and pleads to be acknowledged and fulfilled.

As I write this, I allow myself to indulge in looking back on cherished memories of past rides while gazing into our future with excited anticipation of new places and fresh, exciting adventures…

And, to Russell, I can’t thank you enough for opening up a whole new world to me….

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