Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 8

A narrow gravel road greeted us shortly after we got back on the TAT.  Sunlight beamed through the trees and lit a sparkling path before us.  It was like nature was putting on a little light show for us, egging us on to go further and faster along the TAT.  The beauty and the excitement got the best of all of us but Tracy and I were the first to succumb to the enticing TAT.  It sparkled our eyes and whispered to us sweetly. Enjoy this as much as you can for it may not be here forever.

For a short while, Tracy and I apparently lost our minds and we raced along, dust rising in our trail with the sun flashing through the green canopy like a golden strobe light.  It was a mesmerizing environment and somehow time stopped.  We had become as one with our surroundings.  I knew we were moving at a rapid pace but the sense of speed was gone.  The feel from my fishtailing bike in the soft gravel only made me feel more part of the environment.  As the bike slowly swayed back and forth beneath me, I imagined being part of a school of fish.  I followed the swaying tail of the bike in front of me, and sped forward trying to keep up with my fellow school member on a stream of gravel,  not water.    I knew something was propelling me.  It was not fins, but the fire from within the bike as well as the fire inside me.  Ultimately we came to a “T” in the road where we were forced to stop and the magic moments were no more.  But we both exchanged knowing smiles, we both knew that we had been enchanted by this particular section of the TAT.  The ladies of our group, apparently much smarter than us, caught up to us at the T junction.  Tracy and I just smiled but I know the ladies knew we had been enchanted and our little escapade was a joyous event for Tracy and I.  We sat at the junction for a brief time and told MaryLee and Kim how much fun we had just had.

By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.

Our little jaunt over, it was time to get going.  As we rode the narrow gravel, we started seeing the first signs of water crossings.  Small slabs of concrete had been poured over narrow creek beds.  Most were less than 100 feet wide with a one inch deep flow of water lazily crossing half the width of the concrete.  We straight lined most of them and before long, we got cocky.  Once again, we started enjoying ourselves and Tracy and MaryLee quickly vanished into the distance while Kim and I dawdled along enjoying the green canopy that surrounded us.

I had almost forgotten about the our travelling companions when we rounded a corner and started down an incline.  There in front of us lay Tracy’s bike on its side.  A downtrodden looking couple stood and gazed down at the machine which seemed to be taking a nap in the very shallow water.  It was a sorry sight.  They both stood there for a while, a bit dazed about the whole event.

Tracy, a veteran rider of more than 30 years fell off his bike in less than an inch of water?  How could that happen?  I quickly got my answer as I stopped and dismounted my bike to assist.  As I hurried over to them, I stepped into the tiny stream and almost ended on my backside.  This was no ordinary water crossing.  This water crossing was over a layer of stone, not concrete.  An on that stone was an almost invisible very slippery and slimy algae.  No wonder Tracy fell off!  I have walked on skating rinks in my shoes before and I can honestly say that this rock was far more slippery.

Now the three of us stared at Tracy’s stricken machine while Kim stood at the side of the crossing taking pictures.  For posterity!  Surely three of us could easily pick up a 650cc motorcycle!  But it was not to be.  Each time we reached down to pick it up, we started scrambling for footing.  This algae was slimy!  So in a concerted and coordinated manner we proceeded to pick the bike up.  After a couple of tries, we were able to get it back on two wheels.  Now all we had to do was push it across the water crossing.

Very carefully, the three of us slowly pushed the bike to the opposite side of the water crossing.  We decided that we had better get the other three bikes across as well.  So Tracy and I agreed that we would take the ladies’ bikes across the water crossing ourselves.  It wasn’t that the ladies were not good riders, it was the thought of either of them going down on this slippery rock would not be pleasant.  But how to do it?

Riding with legs outstretched like outriggers, Tracy slowly rode MaryLee’s bike across.  Then it was my turn, first Kim’s machine and then mine.  But it must have been a real sight watching two middle aged men taking the bikes across the crossing.  With only an inch of water, we must have looked like we were 4 year old beginners.  It was not a difficult task, but it sure was a slow one.

When we had all four bikes across, it was time to inspect Tracy’s bike for damage.  His right pannier was damaged significantly.  It was bent backwards and downwards and its perfect rectangular shape was now a very interesting trapezoid.  The lid lay hanging at the side of the pannier but it had retained its shape.  Once we flipped the lid over the top of the pannier, two separate gaping isosceles triangles appeared under the lid leaving the contents of the pannier in the elements.

We would have to make a field fix if Tracy was to be able to use his pannier for the remainder of the trip.  I got out my toolkit, but there wasn’t really anything that would help this mangled pannier.  So we’d have to improvise and improvise we did.  We roamed the area and found a fist size rock.  That ought to do the trick I thought as Tracy prepared to do his best McGyver impersonation.

With a little pounding and tugging, we were able to get the pannier to be rectangular enough to be able to close the lid with the assistance of some good old duct tape.  That stuff is great for everything!

After about an hour at and on the side of the trail, Tracy’s pannier was sealed and we were once again on the TAT motoring towards the evenings destination.  Little did we know it but we were to have another challenge that day and let me say that this challenge was no bull!

April 30, 2013 | Categories: Adventure, Adventure Motorcycling, adventure riders, Adventure Rides, aerostich, Alaska, Argentina, Chile, dual sport, enduro, hydration, KTM, Motorcycle, motorcycle gear, off road, Overland, people, photo, pictures, R2ADV, rally, Ride2Adventure, roadcrafter, Travel, Yukon | Tags: adventure, adventure bike, dual sport, enduro, kimike, KTM, motorcycle, off road, overland, photo, photography, picture, ride report, ride2adv, ride2adventure, riders, roadcrafter, stich, TAT, trans america trail, trans american trail, travel, XD3 | 1 Comment

Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 7

The following morning, the sun rose quickly and immediately heated the muggy air to a grey haze.  We finished a quick breakfast and headed out to the TAT once again.  We were quickly back on the TAT and were greeted by narrow twisting roads under a lush green canopy from the surrounding trees.  The traffic was non-existent leaving us to enjoy the swoopy corners and somewhat cooler air.

Again I was riding at the tail of the group, and clouds of dust rose from the gravel track.  But it didn’t diminish the pleasure that the TAT was gifting to us.  I watched from the back of the pack as Tracy faded into the distance and MaryLee and Kim played a kind of moto tag with each other.  MaryLee would lead the way and Kim would sprint up to her until the dust began to get too heavy and faded back.  I was enjoying the playful component of the ride immensely.

By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.

But after about an hour, the verdant canopies began to part and we found ourselves in farm country.  Green fields contrasted with golden fields of grain.  As we rode along, we saw evidence that the locals were working the fields to get the crops of grain in.    We were used to seeing the huge plastic rolls of hay that are widely seen in New England.  But the stacks we were seeing were vastly different.

Small piles were neatly stacked along side each other.  The stacks consisted of what appeared to be individually bound bundles tossed in opposing directions making for a tightly bundled and geometrically shaped pile.  We had never seen stacking like this and to us, it didn’t seem to be prepared by the large farm equipment that roams some of the fields back home.  But something was stacking these small works of art dotting the fields.  Who or what could be doing it?

It wasn’t long before we got our answer.  As we turned from one small road onto another, there in a field directly in front of us was a pair of beautiful harnessed draft horses.  As draft animals, they were huge and they dwarfed their owner who stood close by.  Clad in jeans and a shirt topped off by a large brimmed black hat, a young Amish man watched as we approached and ducked down seemingly trying to hide.  So it was him who had been making these beautiful stacks of grain.

Tracy  stopped to take a picture and the farmer insisted that he not to take one, so as requested, Tracy put away his camera, said hello and rode off.  As we continued our way through the county, it became clear that we were in fact in an Amish enclave.  Good sized farms were all about but suddenly I noticed something a bit odd.  At the roadside, there were no telephone poles and no wires running into the farms.  They had no electricity!

Kim’s uncle is a farmer and we know how hard and thankless a job farming can be.  Many, many hours are spent in the fields trying to bring a crop in and/or taking care of the animals.  It has to be one of the most difficult and exhausting jobs in the world.  And then it dawned on me.  As difficult as it was to be a farmer, they often use electricity and power tools to accomplish the day’s tasks.  Now take away the electricity and all the power tools and you have the life of an Amish farmer.  It makes you think about how committed those people are to their beliefs.  Forsaking even the most rudimentary of power equipment, they still carry on the difficult day’s work without complaint.  It truly is an amazing act of faith to maintain such a life.

It also made me think about the little works of art that were the grain piles.  No farm equipment making 10 foot rolls of hay were being used.  The Amish used their own two hands and made each bundle individually.  When you looked at the size of some of the fields, I felt a deep admiration for those people who toil so hard, while the tools to make their lives easier went unused.  Their faith was their tool and they used it well to maintain a hard but appreciated life.   Witnessing this, I thought to myself that to be Amish, you have to be a very stout person.  Very stout indeed.

The enclave was fairly large and it took us about 10 minutes to pass through it.  Along the way, we passed one of their well known plain black buggies.  Pulled by a single horse, the buggy made its way along the road, with its lantern headlights and tail lights.  Two women sat in the buggy, one middle aged and another old.  I could just make out their black clothes and bonnets as I rode by.

It made quite a contrasting scene.  Immediately in front of me were two women in a single horse drawn wooden carriage.  While just ahead, I could see two women riding on small horses of steel and aluminum that far eclipsed the power of the larger single horse buggy.  Riding through this little enclave, really helped me put things into perspective and open my eyes to a different way of life.  A way of life that could be more physically demanding, but for them, more meaningful.

Soon after passing the buggy, once again the fields started to fade and we found ourselves traveling through very sparsely populated land.  The road narrowed and the trees closed in.  The road was now barely large enough to fit a single car, but it was nice to be in the shade at times.  What structures there were on this road were very old and most abandoned.  Wooden planks of siding sagged from the buildings, age having long since taken the remnants of colorful paint away.  But in their grey hued glory, they told a story of remote living and of farms that had long since come and gone.

We lazily dawdled along in the oppressive heat under the canopy of green leaves and grey branches.  At times, the gravel road gave way small concrete water crossings an inch or two deep.  At first they were no more than 50 feet across, but they soon got wider and more treacherous.  You might ask how a couple of inches of water might constitute a treacherous hazard.  How could water on a hard surface only one or two inches deep cause any problems?  We’ll talk about that in the next chapter.

April 23, 2013 | Categories: Adventure, Adventure Motorcycling, adventure riders, Adventure Rides, aerostich, Alaska, Argentina, Chile, dual sport, enduro, hydration, KTM, Motorcycle, motorcycle gear, off road, Overland, people, photo, pictures, R2ADV, rally, Ride2Adventure, roadcrafter, Travel, Yukon | Tags: adventure, adventure bike, dual sport, enduro, kimike, KTM, motorcycle, off road, overland, photo, photography, picture, ride report, ride2adv, ride2adventure, riders, roadcrafter, stich, TAT, trans america trail, trans american trail, travel, XD3 | 3 Comments

Traversing The TAT (Trans-America Trail) Chapter 6

We knew that to find some cool air we’d have to get off the TAT for a while.  So we found the nearest paved road and hightailed it towards the nearest town.  Along the way we found a small marina perched on the side of a narrow green river.  A dirt parking lot greeted us with a single large willow tree drooping in the heat.  We parked the bikes under its branches to get out of the sun.

As we walked towards the marina, the river’s yellowish green water sluggishly churned under an old rusted metal railroad bridge.  The water looked to be moving as slow as we were, both of us slowly making our way towards our final destinations.  We walked towards the marina boat house hoping to find somewhere to could cool off.  Unfortunately there weren’t any apparent public areas.  The few people at the marina looked at us but didn’t utter a word.  We must have been quite a sight in our dusty, sweaty gear with our riding pants open at every vent.  We smiled at the people, said hello but other than a short hi, there was no other response.  It was clear that this place wasn’t going to provide us a respite from the heat so we returned to the bikes and got under way again.

By the way, if you don’t know, click on any one of the pictures in the gallery below and it will open that picture into a full size picture and then you can click your way through the remainder of the pictures in either direction in full size.

Luckily for us, about 5 miles down the road, we came to a small gas station with a little restaurant and… air conditioning!  We were elated.   Kim and I needed fuel, but the cool air beckoned  and we just couldn’t wait to get inside.  We almost immediately ripped our gear off and rushed towards the restaurant.  It was one of those 3 Stooges moments, each of us racing to get our gear off and looking at each other.  Who was going to make it into the cool air first?  If we had all gotten to the door at the same time, I could have seen me pulling Tracy backwards while I clawed at the door while just as I got to the threshold, MaryLee would jump on my shoulders knocking me to the ground and plunge for the entry way… until Kim would have grabbed MaryLee by her ankle and pulled her from the entry.  And so it would continue until one of us had established our supremacy and fell through the door with a triumphant yell with the others hot on their heels.

Once inside, it was literally a breath of fresh air.  Cold air blew from not one, but two air conditioners.  So cold that Kim got goosebumps from being chilled; she was quite happy with that result.  As we surveyed the rest of the scene, we found pure country.  The gas station part of the store had all the little things that a local small town family owned store might have for its residents.  Gum, fishing lures, comic books, pliers, firewood; you name the little market had it.

The restaurant was even better.  The walls were covered with farm implements and the tools of farming.  Fastened to the wall just above our table was a horse collar that had been converted into a mirror.  Next to it was an empty feed bag and next to that were a couple of scythes.  It was just a wonderful mix of eclectic farming implements used to make the place feel like all were welcome.  It was a terrific place to stop.

Settled at our table, we read from a paper menu filled with down home items like meatloaf with gravy, hot dogs, hamburgers, sandwiches, potato salad, fries and chips and the like.  There was no fancy stuff here, just comfort food.  Having been cooled off, we were ready to eat.  No sooner than we sat down, than almost as by magic a waitress appeared and took our order.  Our requested food arrived in what seemed like no time and we got down to the business of eating.

By now we were very hungry and ready to shovel the tasty food down.  But in this cool air, none of us was in a rush to finish and get back into the heat and humidity.  We even took the time to order and eat dessert!  By the time we were done, our 30 minute lunch had turned into an hour and a half meal.  Ultimately we could delay no longer, and we ventured back out into the heat.

Once outside, we returned to our bikes and the girls decided that they’d had enough of the heat for the day.  A suggestion was made to leave the TAT for the rest of the day and head towards the hotel at all due speed.  Normally, we’d want to spend as much time on the gravel as possible, but in these conditions, no-one objected.

As we prepared to mount our bikes, Kim found that she had a visitor and it looked like he wanted to get a drink too.  A three inch wide moth walked his way over the top of Kim’s gear and nestled himself (or herself) up against Kim’s water bottle.  It looked like he was settling in for the ride and slaking his thirst before we departed.  We tried to give him a little motivation to be on his way but he decided he wasn’t going anywhere but with us.  Ultimately, we had to remove the little guy by hand and send him on his way so we could get started towards the hotel.

Moth removed, we put on our gear and went to fuel up the bikes.  As we pulled up to the pumps, we noticed a small handwritten cardboard sign inside the pump proclaiming NO ETHANOL.  Wow, no ethanol!  In the US, no ethanol fuel is quite a find and is non-existent where we live in New Hampshire.  So with our small tanks, Kim and I proceeded to fill our bikes to the brim with the undiluted high octane fuel.  Little did we know that this one decision would have grave consequences on our ability to finish our TAT journey.

During lunch we had decided that we would take the shortest route back to the hotel due to the heat and humidity.  Once again it would be all pavement to the hotel at this late time of day.  But some fun times would still be had before we arrived at our evening’s destination.

Although it was really, really hot, we were having fun on the lonely twisting roads.  We were not on powerful bikes, but it was still a joy to be on a lightweight machine swooping back and forth, playing with and on the curves.  Speeds and spirits were high until I rounded a corner and saw the unmistakable markings of a police cruiser.  I was about to grab the brakes but just beyond the cruiser sat another car parked next to the cruiser.  It was an orange Dodge Charger with Confederate stripes on the roof.

Wait a minute, flashed through my head, that’s not a real cruiser.  As I got closer, it was clear that it was not a real cruiser and the Charger was a replica of the General Lee from the old TV show Dukes of Hazzard.   Cool!!!  For this, I had to stop and the rest of the gang stopped to let me take pictures.  I was never a big fan of the TV show, but both replicas were really well done and I had to get a few pictures.  I placed the bike in front of both cars and snapped a couple of pictures as a remembrance of this nice chance encounter.

It was soon time for us to get underway and once again fortune smiled down on us.  Our route would take us across the Natchez Trace.  A brand new smooth ribbon of asphalt twisting through a forest.  It was a two lane road with broad grass shoulders that made the whole road seem like a ride through a carefully manicured park.  The road was virtually deserted and once again we had a chance to play on the curves of the road without any traffic.  The heat of the day was almost forgotten as we swooped our way through lazy open sweepers, our group snaking lazily through the woods.

Once again I was tail end Charlie, but this time I wasn’t eating any dust and I was really enjoying the views as we made our way towards our hotel for the evening.  Even though we were on the pavement for another hour and a half, the time literally flew by and before we knew it we had arrived at our hotel for the evening.  We’d need to clean up a bit before dinner, but all of us were happy with what we’d done and where we’d been on this day.

Tomorrow would be another hot day, but we were undeterred, we were having a great time and with the next sunrise, we’d be on gravel most of the day.  We were psyched and with a little rest, we’d be ready to attack the TAT once again.

April 1, 2013 | Categories: Adventure, Adventure Motorcycling, adventure riders, Adventure Rides, aerostich, Alaska, Argentina, Chile, dual sport, enduro, hydration, KTM, Motorcycle, motorcycle gear, off road, Overland, people, photo, pictures, R2ADV, rally, Ride2Adventure, roadcrafter, Travel, Yukon | Tags: adventure, adventure bike, dual sport, enduro, kimike, KTM, motorcycle, off road, overland, photo, photography, picture, ride report, ride2adv, ride2adventure, riders, roadcrafter, stich, TAT, trans america trail, trans american trail, travel, XD3 | 1 Comment