Nearly 20 years ago.
Atlanta – Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma (turn the wind OFF), Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, Kansas, Arkansas, Tennessee, Mississippi, Alabama – Atlanta.
Departure July 5, 2003 at 7.30 am
Return July 13, 2003 at 2.15 pm
4,447 miles, average 523 miles a day
Top speed 125mph in Arkansas.
Slowest enforced speed - Oklahoma panhandle, highway 64 (turn the wind OFF).
Highest elevation – Mt. Evans, CO. 14,260ft.
Worst traffic lights – Memphis, TN.
Worst road – I 55 Memphis, TN.
Most expensive gas – Lake City, CO. $1.79
Most boring road – Oklahoma panhandle, highway 64
Most wind - Oklahoma panhandle, highway 64 (turn the wind OFF).
Lowest temperature – Leadville, CO. 40F morning of July 12th
Highest temperature – Kansas 104F, July 12th
Stopped for gas 51 times
Spent $227.27 on gas
149.46 gallons
Average 29.75 mpg
Average $1.52 a gallon
Day 1. Saturday July 5th, 2003
I had planned on staying in Memphis on the first night but traffic was so light the day after the Independence Day celebration that I got to Memphis, TN at about 2.30 pm and decided to push on to the Iron Horse Stables
http://www.ironhorsestables.com/index.htmlnear
http://www.eurekasprings.com/ Eureka Springs, AR arriving there at around 7 pm after 640 miles. As I pulled into the parking lot one of the ladies on the deck came over and asked where I had ridden in from. When I replied Atlanta she said “No, where have you ridden in from today?”. Replying once more “Atlanta, 640 miles” she looked very surprised and walked off. Once I had checked into my room and unpacked I made my way swiftly to the bar to get a much-needed liquid pick me up. Walking across the parking lot a couple of comments were made to me about the distance I had ridden. The Harley riders seemed impressed. With the distance or that the Valkyrie had made it in one piece I’m not sure.
After a few conversations and beers I retired for the night. Woken at 3.30am by the sound of voices I dress and go out to check on my bike. The voices were Scrounge, Sue, Marcus and a V-Rod rider sitting by the campfire drinking tequila and telling lies. Asked to join them I spent about 30 minutes chatting with them about my trip and sipping some tequila. The Iron Horse Stables is a very biker friendly motel with a boisterous and exuberant clientele. There are a multitude of accommodation choices in Eureka Springs and it looks to be a bike destination.
Day 2 Sunday
Rising refreshed the next morning I ride 250 miles exploring the back roads of NW Arkansas and SW Missouri arriving back at the Iron Horse Stables round 2pm. I decided that to spend another night in Eureka Springs would be a waste of riding time so I checked out and headed into Oklahoma. I had been told that the wind in Oklahoma was legendary and it seemed as soon as I crossed the AR, OK state line the wind was switched on and the farther west I rode the wind became stronger and stronger.
In eastern Oklahoma if a bend is posted as 25mph you had better believe it.
I eventually grind to a halt in Pawhuska, OK. The total mileage for the day is about 468.
The only places open on a Sunday evening in Pawhuska were the Sonic burger, pizza place or the deli counter at the local IGA grocery store. Flipped a coin and ended up at the Sonic eating half of one of the worst burgers I’ve had in my life.
Day 3 Monday
On the road again at 7.30 am I leaving Pawhuska heading west (please turn the wind OFF) another rider appears behind me. I reduce speed to about 5mph above the posted 55mph limit. As the rider gets closer I see that he is helmet less and wearing a T-shirt. I accelerate to about 70 mph and over the crest of a hill in front of me a patrol car appears, illuminates its red and blues. I roll off the throttle the patrol car lights switch off and I warily continue at a more respectful speed. The rider behinds me gets nearer and then slowly overtakes me. As he comes alongside I notice the heavy lace up boots, the camouflage pants, the leather belt with holster and revolver, the tan colored T-shirt. As he pulls in front of me I see the word SHERIFF emblazoned on the back of this T-shirt, The patrol car had flashed its lights for him as a greeting. With a small wave he acknowledges me as a rider and slowly pulls away. For some reason the situation struck me as hilarious and I burst out loud laughing once he is clear. A mile down the rider the Sheriff takes a left and I once more allow my speed to creep back up with a smile on my lips and a chuckle in my throat.
Getting further west the northerly side wind increases in force until I’m reduced to a speed of 60mph right across the panhandle. Every 18-wheeler from the opposite direction forces a blast of wind at me that has me ducking down behind my windscreen. The Valkyrie shudders as if hit with a Tyson body blow.
The side wind blows dust from enormous cattle feed stock yards in a thick pall across the road stinging my eyes and filling my mouth and noise with a foul smelling, tasting, gravelly powder. At the next gas fill up I wash my face and leave what looks like a Turin Shroud impression on the towel in the rest room.
I ride south on Highway 54 to Guymon, OK on a 4-lane road passing the wrecked carcass of an overturned freight train on the side of the road. Stopping for gas I ask about the train and am told that the week before a side wind of 135 mph had blown the train off the tracks.
The Oklahoma wind wins (turn the darned wind OFF) and I decide to head southwest into Texas and then on into New Mexico and on to Albuquerque.
Heading across this corner of Texas into New Mexico I am able to make up some time by cruising at 80 to 90mph on flat well surfaced roads. My plan for the trip was to keep off the interstates but the last 175 miles of this days riding is to be on I 40, there are no other smaller direct roads on my map.
I 40 proves to be an amazing road. Wonderful scenery each side and a surface that encourages a rapid rate of speed. Off to my right an enormous high plains late afternoon storm is forming. Within minutes it covers the ground from my one o’clock to my six o’clock and looks to be slowly moving my way. I increase speed to over 100 miles an hour in an attempt to get to Albuquerque and shelter before I get drenched. After 70 odd miles at high speed watching the storm grow in intensity, lightning flashes illuminating the clouds and ground to air lightning making an awesome display the storm catches me as I pull to a stop under the shelter of a gas station canopy. What a display of nature’s pyrotechnic fury. As quickly as the storm arrives it passes leaving a fresh clean smell and a complete rainbow in its wake.
Taking this is a good omen I pull back on to I 40 and within five minutes am soaked to the skin by the tail of the storm.
I 40 gradually descends into Albuquerque and the setting sun is an orange, gold molten mass that burns through my sunglasses causing me to hold my left hand up to help reduce the blistering glare. As the sun sinks behind more storm clouds more lightning flashes pierce the evening sky making the sun look like it is forging a link between it and the Earth. Rays of silver and gold streak the evening sky as the storm clouds block part of the orb.
As I pull into a Days Inn parking lot another 680 miles have been ridden.
Day 4 Tuesday
The morning finds me riding to the Sandia Peak tramway
http://www.sandiapeak.com/. This side trip to New Mexico was not on my original schedule but having seen a program about this tramway 2 days before I left I decided to include it. The tramway is located at about 6,000 feet and the ride takes passengers up to just over 10,000 feet overlooking Albuquerque. The ride to the top takes about 14 minutes and I stand at the highest elevation I have ever been. The weather is excellent affording a clear view to the horizon.
Next I ride east a short distance to highway 14, the Turquoise Trail
http://www.newmexico.org/ScenicAttractions/byway_turq.html. This is the back road from Albuquerque to Santa Fe. I had seen the traffic on I 25 north and wonder how many bikes could have shared the ride with me through the high desert east of Albuquerque. The Turquoise Trail is about 61 miles through the Sandia Mountains and is a visual surprise at every corner or crest. The small eclectic settlement of Madrid
http://www.turquoisetrail.org/madrid.htm is where I stop for lunch at the Iron Horse Saloon. A bike destination for riders in central New Mexico.
Santa Fe jolts me back to reality with its 4-lane strip of car lots, malls and fast food joints. So far most of the bikes I had acknowledged on the road have replied in kind. Here in Santa Fe the locals are all so too cool on their ape hanger Harley's. Staring so coolly straight ahead they ignore everyone.
Riding northwards through the dusty construction on highway 84 I look for the sign to show me where to turn off to Sipapu. Having read that the Valkyrie Owners Association International is having a meeting here was another reason for me to add New Mexico to my route. Their venue is the Sipapu Ski and Summer Resort. The ride over the mountains from highway 84 through Cordova and El Valle cause the Valkyrie to have a slight hesitation due to the lower oxygen content of the atmosphere. This is the first time that my Valkyrie has not behaved perfectly in 13,000 miles of ownership. I quickly learn that I need to rev a little harder than usual and to roll off the throttle gently so as to minimize the risk of backfire.
Arriving at the ski lodge in Sipapu I am sorely disappointed that I am expected to pay a $40.00 membership fee even though I only want to hang out for an evening. The greeting from the other Valkyrie riders there is definitely lukewarm. Hurray for the VRCC. The room price at this lodge is $77.00. This price plus the Valkyrie Owners Association International need for my $40.00 makes me bid a quiet farewell and I ride on to Taos. If the Valkyrie Owners Association International had carried out some research they might have found out that the owner of Bravo, a restaurant I dine at, owns a Valkyrie and is very impressed with the bike. I mention the VOAI meeting to him and he tells me he would have welcomed the riders and put on a special menu for them. Oh well!
En route to Taos an enormous plume of smoke hangs over the mountains and I wonder if the fire is near Taos. Well, it is and it’s the largest forest fire in the Taos area since 1983. Some 3,000 acres have been burnt up since July 4th. As I ride nearer to Taos I can see the base of the inferno and flashes rising up within the dense cloud of smoke. Stopping to fill up with gas I ask a local how far away the fire is. I’m told about 10 miles but the wind is blowing away from Taos so no evacuation plans have been made. Checking in at the motel I determine to unpack as little as possible in case I need to make a swift departure during the night if the wind should change direction.
The base of the fire is clearly visible from the motel and what I had thought were flashes of flame are in fact red clouds of fire retardant being dropped by fire fighting helicopter and aeroplane.
I ride into town and once again am snubbed by the oh so cool Harley riders. What an attitude problem there seems to be in New Mexico. I guess if you don’t ride something looking old fashioned, slow and noisy then you can’t be riding anything of quality. Little do they know that the Valkyrie can leave them in the dust, even at this elevation. Maybe it’s because I’m wearing a helmet, everyone else has their protective bandannas on.
I quickly learn that air conditioning isn’t used in Taos. It never get hot enough here a local tells me. But it’s 92F outside. Oh yes but this is unusual, I’m told as the poorly performing swamp coolers stir turgid air. Well, you can keep your swamp coolers – they suck.
After about 200 miles of hot riding I would really like to find an air-conditioned bar for a cold beer but no luck.
Day 5 Wednesday
The ride north towards Colorado is through some amazing scenery. The southern tip of the Rockies slowly rear skywards as I speed along highway 159 from the New Mexico state line. In Fort Garland I feel as if I could reach out and touch Blanca Peak. I turn westward once more passing through South Fork. The road follows the Rio Grande River valley through some of the most spectacular scenery I have ever seen. At Slumguillion Pass, 11,361 feet I cross over the Continental Divide and am able to look back at the Rio Grande headwaters and the San Juan mountains. The 75 mile long section of this road between South Fork and Lake City (most expensive gas of the trip at $1.79) is known as the Silver Thread Byway.
The entire length of this road is highly scenic. The southern section passes through typical Colorado ranching country, while the northernmost part is through more arid country.
In Gunnison I turn eastwards and then north on 285 to Leadville, CO. Passing over Monarch Pass, 11,312 feet, I cross the Continental Divide once more. Arriving in Leadville at 10,200 feet North America’s highest incorporated city, I have traveled about 392 miles.
Unpacking after a 392-mile ride I make my way to the Silver Dollar Saloon and quickly find out that alcohol and altitude work well together? After 4 libations I call it a night. Tomorrow I will ride to the top of Mt. Evans. The main reason for the trip.
Day 6 Thursday
Rising early the weather is fine and clear with cloudless blue skies. Bud the motel owner tells me the trip from the Treeline Motel; bike friendly, to the entrance to Mt. Evans state park is about 1 hour 40 minutes. I hour 15 minutes later I arrive after a great morning ride. The Eisenhower tunnel on I 70 is a strange green fluorescent hole bored through the mountain.
The speed limit on the road to the summit of Mt. Evans is posted at 30mph. Due to the higher elevation that’s the speed I keep at in 3rd gear. The road to the summit affords spectacular views at every turn. The tree line is so clearly delineated it’s as if someone had taken a giant weed eater and removed all the trees from the summit down to the tree line in one fell swoop. The weather is perfect all the way to the summit. Clear blue skies.
Hardier souls than me are walking, running or cycling to the top.
At the summit I find one male who is sitting cross-legged on a bench meditating and 2 females who are preparing to walk up the last 150ft or so of elevation. I realize as soon as I stop that I will not be making this relatively short walk. The thinner air at 14,260 feet has me breathing deep and hard.
The views leave me completely breathless. Stunning vistas for 360 degrees. Looking down at lower peaks is really quite difficult to comprehend. This is now the highest I have ever been with my 2 feet planted firmly on the ground.
I am in awe at the sweep of the landscape below me. The bighorn sheep are close by and the few of us there keep a wary eye on them. Don’t want to be featured on the next “When wild animals go bad” video.
More people are arriving and I am pleased I chose to make an early start so as to have a few moments of quiet reflection whilst I look out at the mountain ranges and wide open spaces below me.
Soon the newcomers are out of the cars brandishing cameras, hassling the bighorn sheep that have the good sense to make a slow dignified retreat. One lady walks after them whilst clutching her little yapping dog. She seems surprised that the bighorns keep moving away. I wish she would put the dog on the ground so that the bighorns could take care of it.
A couple of the cyclists appear, completely at ease in this rarefied air. It has taken them 2 hours and 55 minutes to make the 15-mile climb. They are practicing for an upcoming race during which they expect their time to be reduced to 2 hours and 30 minutes. When I ask how they can't be out of breath they reply with a smile “Pacing that’s all, pacing”. Yeah right, I think – freaks.
The ride down the mountain is bedeviled by more cars whose drivers are more intent on looking at the scenery than oncoming traffic. The Kisan headlight modulator catches their attention and saves me from being knocked off the road into space.
The return journey on I 70 leaves me craving more height so I turn off before the Eisenhower tunnel and ride up over the Loveland Pass at 11,982 feet. I descend through more spectacular scenery riding through the summer/winter resort of Keystone. Back onto I 70 for a few more miles and then south making a loop through Breckenridge over the Hoosier pass at 11,541 feet. Returning to Leadville I have traveled about 243 miles.
Day 7 Friday
Having slept badly at the 10,200 feet altitude for 2 nights I decide to leave Leadville. The threat of tropical storm Claudette is showing itself on the long-range radar and my return home could be a wet one and this also hastens my early departure from Colorado. I will not be returning through Oklahoma and decide to cross Kansas in the hope it will be a less windy route.
The ride from Leadville south to Canon City and Pueblo, CO takes me alongside the Arkansas River. Plenty of twistys to satisfy any biker with ample passing places to enable me to keep up a good speed. From Pueblo eastwards Highway 50 is straight, flat and mercifully relatively windless. At a gas station east of Pueblo I speak with a sports bike rider who had left Denver that morning heading for Virginia. He tells me that riding his bike for the distance he had is making him older. I suggest he test ride a Valkyrie and his response whilst not rude is less than willing. I’m back on the road before him but he soon passes me at over 100mph. I tuck in behind him to show that a sports cruiser can make pace. After a couple of miles I reduce speed to save any possible license damage. Some 50 miles further on I pass a gas station where the sports bike rider is off his bike trying to stretch out. I give him a blast on the horn and a few minutes later he passes me once more at a high rate of speed. Some 50 miles later I stop to refuel and he’s there again. This continues for the next 200 miles. The temperature as we cross Kansas increases to a maximum of 104F. Every gas stop I am drinking at least 16oz of water. So much fluid in and not one restroom stop.
I continue on highway 50 to Wichita, KS. A days riding of about 775 miles.
Day 8 Saturday
The rest of Kansas goes by in a blur, as does the return ride across Arkansas. One brief adrenaline rush happens on highway 64 approaching West Memphis. I had tucked in a couple of hundred yards behind a SUV traveling at 85mph, 30 miles an hour over the speed limit. The SUV suddenly brakes violently as a patrol car with its red and blues lit up appears from the other direction. I have also braked and am traveling at about 60 mph. The patrol car executes a severe U turn behind me as the SUV driver wisely pulls onto the hard shoulder. I continue on my way assuming “I’m safe” and keep at a respectful speed all the way to the Memphis ring road. I like to let drivers run interference for me in the hope that they will have radar or be the ones that law enforcement officers will target. This time I’m lucky.
Stopping overnight in Collierville east of Memphis I have traveled another 650 miles.
Day 9 Sunday
The last day it is hard to fight off the temptation of rolling on the throttle. So near yet so far. Highway 72 across the top of Mississippi is as light of traffic as it was on my ride west. Cullman and Gadsden, Alabama pass without incident and at last the Georgia state line is crossed. After a half days ride of about 300 miles I’m home.
