Creeping towards Virginia

13th February

A beautiful morning. I eat a hearty (as in severely damaging to my cardiac function) breakfast, pack the bike and I’m off. Almost immediately I enter North Carolina. With my usual map reading skills, I’ve failed to notice that there are NO scenic routes in South Carolina (the one I’d spotted was in North Carolina). Ah well…

I stop at a Post Office and post my earplug monitors back to the UK to be repaired. The left speaker has gone, so Judge (cheers Andy ) is going to sort it out with Ultimate Earplugs and arrange for them to be posted back to me… Total cost of posting the ‘plugs back, including buying a Jiffy bag? – 85 cents…

I ride through the warm sunshine and come across Sunset Beach Airport.



Aviation is completely matter of fact in the USA. I can’t think of an aerodrome anywhere in the UK where you can drive directly from a public road onto the tarmac.

I get to the start of the Scenic Route, which runs from Supply to Lumberton, a distance of about 70 miles. It is noteworthy as a scenic route for its utter lack of scenery. Honest – I really wanted to take some pics to make up for the ‘Roadside Signs’ edition of my Journal yesterday, but there wasn’t a single view, bend or anything worth bothering with. It’s not that it wasn’t a nice road – 55mph limit, but a continuous series of long sweeping bends which presented no challenge at a steady 80mph – it was just not scenic…

Always a sucker for trying again, I navigate over to Elizabethtown, the start of a further scenic road, Highway 242, leading North towards Virginia. I notice, once again, how proud the people here are of their local heroes. This mural celebrates local boy & Shuttle pilot, Lt Col Curtis L Brown jnr…



After noticing a law firm that would, presumably, represent you overground, underground etc ,



I turn onto the 242 and find it to be delightful. For a start there are hills (up until now, despite being 50 miles from the coast, I always felt threatened by a high tide), as well as a twisty, well-surfaced road leading through the Bladen Lakes Forest, full of well - you know – scenery.



I continue North, heading towards the Virginia Border.



I stop to take a picture of this garden, surely a contender for ‘Gnome of the Month’ award. I also catch a snap of a Fat Boy.



I think he’s riding a Harley . He gives me a tentative wave – probably a bit suspicious of this weird looking bike with its hazards on and of having his picture taken…

The tar-paper shacks of Georgia & South Carolina seem to have disappeared now. In their place, low-cost housing is evident in the form of these pre-fabricated houses, little more than caravans without wheels really. On the outskirts of large towns I see them in huge parking lots, advertised for sale, either new, second-hand or, sadly, repossessed…



The big houses are getting bigger. Mostly of timber construction, some are absolutely huge and must cost a fortune to build. This is quite a modest one, but it shows the basic style…



For those who haven't ridden/driven in the USA, you must not pass a School Bus when it is stopped & has its lights flashing. This goes for traffic in both directions. You can see this bus has a fold-out 'Stop' sign deployed...



I detour into Beaver Dam. To find that there are no damn beaver…. (Although I did see a couple of white-tailed deer run across the road 100m or so ahead of me)



As I enter the town of Oxford, I spot a cheap looking motel (my favourite type ). I ask how much for a room - $25. Cheapest yet. There isn’t a single vehicle in the car park. Can I see the room? The receptionist’s face falls. He leads me to what, presumably, is the best room & opens the door. It smells like a wet Labrador. ‘Think I’ll give it a miss’ I call over my shoulder as I make a dash for the bike. As I ride on, I try to imagine what circumstances would’ve made me stay there. I can’t envisage them. I’d rather sleep alongside my bike in the rain than stay there. Who does he rent rooms to?...

I find a pleasant lakefront hotel, just over the Virginian border, in the town of Clarkesville (of ‘Last Train to’ fame). After a quick shower, I drop in to the local bar and meet up with Charlie, who works for AT&T and Russ, who doesn’t. We spend a couple of hours discussing a variety of subjects, including the fuss made by the US media and general public about the halftime entertainment at the Superbowl a fortnight ago, when Janet Jackson (almost) bared a boob; whether Dubya ever turned up for duty as a National Guardsman and whether anyone cares and, of course, the old favourite – where I should think of going next. The perceived wisdom is that, if the weather holds tomorrow, I should head North, then spend a couple of days riding down the Blue Ridge Parkway…

...on the trail of the Lonesome Pine

14th February

So, true to the plan, I get Betty to look for the town of Montebello, which appears to be roughly my closest point to the Blue Ridge Parkway, and pack the bike. In the car park, I meet Mark Krogh, a carpenter from Onancock, Virginia, who asks me whether I’ve come over to see how the colonies are doing . He’s 3 years off retirement and is renovating an 18th Century house near South Boston (just up the road from Clarkesville). We talk for half an hour or so, and I meet his wife and son, Scott (who shakes my hand and calls me ‘sir’). Scott has just finished a history degree. After discussing the Civil War (which he calls the War of Northern Aggression), the American War of Independence (Revolutionary War) and the French (‘be honest, Mike, you guys have never liked them…’) and exchanging Email addresses, we say our goodbyes – I’ll definitely be in touch with them if I’m their area later in the trip – good people.

It’s fairly cold this morning, but the bike’s going well, I have a plan (of sorts) and the roads are quiet, well surfaced & dry. Who could ask for more? I ride through undulating countryside, sparsely populated by large timber houses, some of which are quite impressive.



Joining Highway 15, I note that the Virginia State Troopers are not averse to using unmarked patrol cars, as a car driver coming the other way has discovered to his cost… In the distance, I soon catch my first glimpse of the Blue Ridge Mountains – which really are blue – I’ll have to try to find out why…



Soon I’m climbing up into the foothills, still heading towards Montebello. The road gets narrower and the surface slightly worse – the sign, I suspect, of it being covered with ice & snow for extended periods of time. Snow appears, banked up at the sides of the road, and salt and grit make their first appearance.



I slow down and concentrate on the road surface…



I’m now getting quite cold, and wish I’d had a hot breakfast. The heated grips are doing their best and I’m wearing my warmest gloves (Gerbings, but not heated, of course ). I eventually get to the Blue Ridge Parkway to find – it’s closed. Bugger!



I ride about a mile and a half of it, until I come to another barricade & then turn back and retrace my steps to a little town called Rockfish Gap. I have lunch at a small restaurant and plan my next move. I speak to the waitress, Dolly (no, really), while I wait the 35 minutes it takes to serve me the ‘Special’ – salmon, mashed potatoes & broccoli (I think they were waiting for the broccoli to finish growing). She asks around and comes back to tell me that the Skyline Drive – a continuation of the Blue Ridge Parkway which runs North through the Shenandoah National Park – is open to the North. I finish my meal and set off for Stanardsville, the nearest junction where I can join. After a cold, but very pleasant, ride to the entrance to Shenandoah National Park, I stop at the gate and talk to the 2 Park Rangers on duty there. Yes, the Skyline Drive is open to the North, but I’m to take care as there is some ice and snow on the road in places. They are polite, well informed, efficient and have a good sense of humour – these guys shouldn’t even think about applying to become Customs Officers…

I start the climb up onto the Skyline Parkway. It’s sole purpose is to provide a scenic drive, one it fulfils very well. There is a 35mph speed limit, which is about right as, if you went any faster, you’d miss some spectacular views.



It’s approaching sunset and I’m very aware of the number of signs warning of deer, and also that dusk will be a time when they will become more active. Having hit a small deer in the UK once whilst driving my car, I’ve no wish to try doing it on a bike…

When Shenandoah National Park was originally authorised by Congress in 1926, deer had been hunted to extinction in the area - amazingly, all the estimated 5000 deer in the Park are descended from 13 white-tailed deer released there in 1934.





There is light, but steady traffic. As sunset approaches, most of the vehicles are stopped in the scenic lookouts – it is Valentines Day, after all …





I’m getting quite chilled, and shuddering from the cold now & again. It’s well below freezing up here and I know the temperature will drop sharply after the sun goes down. I slowly make my way down to the next exit (Sperryville), join Highway 211 and start looking for a motel for the night.

I cruise quietly along the 2 lane dual carriageway, until, in what is becoming a habit, a Virginia State Trooper indicates he’d like to discuss something with me. I pull over and put on my best ‘stupid Englishman’ act (imagine Hugh Grant with short grey hair & a weight problem). The (very polite) trooper tells me that he’s clocked me doing 67mph and that this highway has a 55mph limit. I tell him I‘m terribly sorry and give him my Driving Licence. He sees I’m from the UK and suddenly he decides he’ll warn me instead of giving me a ticket (huzzah!) – he admits a lot of people get fooled by the size of the highway (these 2 laners are often 65mph limits). He asks me where I’ve been today and I explain my route. He agrees that getting out of the National Park by nightfall is a good move, but says that he’d be more worried about bear than deer. Gulp – I tell him I’ll never ride through a forest again! He laughs and recommends a couple of motels in the local town, Luray Caverns (which sounds like a cabaret singer…). I thank him – if all LEOs are that polite (& forgiving), I’ll be OK …

I check into the Best Western in Luray and find there’s no local Internet connection for my Service Provider – damn! – no mobile ‘phone signal either .

Rather than face the ignominy of eating alone in the restaurant on Valentines night, I get a take away burger from the place next door, type up my journal & watch TV. Hope my girlfriend’s having a better time…(well, not too much better …)

Might look at doing Washington DC tomorrow…

DC stands for Damn Cold...

15th February

A cold morning. I scrape the frost off the seat as I pack the bike.



It’s beautiful and sunny, with clear skies. I decide that it would be foolish not to visit Washington DC, as it’s only an hour and a half away. I set off, pausing only to fill up with fuel. Incidentally, fuel here is rather good value – Supreme Unleaded (93 Octane – Super Unleaded or Optimax in the UK) is $1.78 per US gallon. That’s under 27p per litre (£1.22 per Imp Gallon)…



I ride to Washington mostly by way of dual carriageways and Interstate Highways, including Route 66 – totally devoid of any kicks at this temperature. I could really do with my heated jacket & gloves right now… Riding into Washington is quite unlike riding into any other US city I’ve visited so far. There isn’t the huge rash of motels, fast food outlets and shopping centres which characterise US towns & cities. Washington, dare I suggest it, seems more civilised, as if someone has thought about the impression a visitor is going to get as he drives in. Quite quickly, I’m into the centre of town and monuments which are very familiar from a thousand films & TV shows are coming into view. As usual, there’s a slight sense of unreality when you see these things in the flesh, almost like déjà vu…

I arrive at the White House, or as close as you can get a vehicle to it. The entire block is sealed off and is crawling with uniformed and plain clothes security. I stop and take a quick picture – if you look carefully, you can see the White House in the background, far away…



Interestingly, my GPS has a bit of a fit when I’m in the immediate vicinity, showing me moving in various directions when I’m stationary and losing satellite reception when I’m clear of any obstruction. I have little doubt that there is some form of ‘point defence’ GPS signal jammer in operation (frankly, I’d be surprised if there wasn’t). I stop again, to take a picture of the bike by the Washington Monument…



I then decide it’s FAR too cold to hang around any longer (plus I really don’t like being in cities) and head on out. I wander about for a while, riding down some pleasant little country routes, before deciding I need to warm up. The temperature hasn’t dropped, but the wind has picked up & the air feels more moist – there’s a threat of snow in the air and I don’t want to be caught looking for accommodation once it starts (it’s a public holiday – Presidents’ Day - tomorrow, and motels fill up early). I make my way into Fredericksburg and check into a Super 8 Motel…

16th February

I wake, after a poor night’s sleep, feeling crap. I certainly don’t feel like riding today, which is a shame since it is gin-clear, though cold, with a cloudless sky. The threatened snow has not materialised, but all the puddles in the motel car park are frozen solid. I’m meant to be heading South to stay with Buddy & Sue Lee (Freaking RT Rider) this afternoon, but don’t feel up to the ride, so I ring them & cry off. Buddy tells me it’s probably a sensible decision, as the side roads around Richmond are pretty slippery. I arrange to meet up the following afternoon, after Buddy gets back from a meeting at 4pm. I ring the front desk, extend my stay by a night and go back to bed…

17th February

I awake feeling well-rested & much better. I check out and get on the road by 10ish. Richmond is only 45 miles away, and I’ve no need to arrive before 4pm, so I take the back roads and start exploring as I head South. I soon come across the village of Cuckoo – it gets its name from a tavern from which Jack Jouett began his famous ride to Charlottesville to warn members of the Virginia Government of the approach of Tarleton’s British Cavalry in June 1781.



Well – he’s famous here, apparently…

Further on I encounter the town of Bumpass – a name so amusing that there isn’t a single signpost or street sign to be seen. It’s a depressing place to visit anyway…



As I take a tour around Lake Anna State Park, the first few flakes of snow begin to fall.



I decide that the best course of action would be to get as close to Buddy’s house as possible in case the snow gets worse, then find somewhere to wait until he gets home. I make my way down some side roads through the, now steady, snow flurries. It’s not pitching on the road surface yet, but the temperature has definitely dropped and I’m once again getting cold. I follow Buddy’s directions and, about 2 miles from his house, find a Burger King to wait in (any port in a storm – plus the coffee refills are free ). The front of the bike has got quite a healthy build-up of slushy ice, as have the front of my Cordura trousers…



I meet Wanda, a schoolteacher who has stopped off on the way home from school to grab a bite to eat. She used to be married to a US Customs Inspector and shares my opinion of them

Eventually, I make my way through the wind blown snow to Buddy & Sue’s beautiful house. Buddy greets me with a beer, shows me to my (enormous) bedroom, and I unpack. I put everything (it seems) into the washing machine, then have a shower and, feeling warm & slightly more human, join Buddy back downstairs…



Buddy worked in IT until relatively recently, but has just trained as a Real Estate Broker. Seizing on the opportunity to get some free IT help , I ask him if he can help me get my wireless network card working. I’ve stayed at a couple of hotels which have clearly got a Broadband wireless network, but have never been able to access it…

No problem – Buddy loves a challenge and he’s soon hard at work. Unfortunately, in trying to connect my laptop, he somehow crashes his wireless network and, at one stage, his internet connection. I’m mortified, but, to Buddy ‘This is what makes computers fun’. He continues to attack the snag (without any major success ) until Sue comes home. It is decided that we’ll go into Richmond for the evening, so that I can give them the verdict on an ‘English Pub’ called Penny Lane.

Well, Penny Lane is pretty authentic, but then it should be. It’s run by Terry, a scouser who has lived here for 20 yrs, and was 10 yrs in New York before that. He came over in 1958, when ‘they didn’t worry about Green Cards too much…’ He runs a pretty good pub. I drink far too much, as does Sue (who, unlike Buddy & me, has to be at work tomorrow). To my amazement, Sue matches me pint for pint – Boddingtons, Newcastle Brown, Old Speckled Hen etc, and remains compus mentis. We enter the pub quiz and don’t come last (close, though ). We eventually get home at about midnight when, it seems, it’s time to open a bottle of single malt….

18th February

I’m woken by the sound of the automatic garage door opening downstairs. Its 9ish and Sue is going to work. I try to turn over and go to sleep, but the need for coffee and ibuprofen overcomes my tiredness. I stumble downstairs and meet up with Buddy, who apparently sorted out his computer glitches at about 2 this morning!

I’ve another snag with the exhaust. The extension to the pipe that Steve welded on in Daytona has come loose. At first, I thought it was Steve’s weld that had cracked, but it turns out to be a BMW tack weld that has fatigue-cracked under the additional weight of the extension. Buddy rings around a couple of places to see if we can get it fixed. I remove the pannier, as well as the extension pipe & end cap, and we set off on the bikes into town where we find Chester Muffler & Brakes. The guy on reception, Polo, says it’ll take 10 minutes and cost $15. His estimate proves entirely accurate, and we share the reception area with the owner’s 2 dogs while we wait for the job to be done.





Virginia, it seems, has a very high proportion of ‘Vanity Tags’, or personalised number plates. I notice that one of the guys at the muffler shop has the ultimate redneck’s plate…



Buddy, a keen golfer, has PUTT 1 on his VW, and this on his RT…



Before we go home, Buddy takes me to the local Chopper Shop. These are definitely not my cup of tea, but I can always appreciate high quality engineering when I see it. All the bikes are based on Harley Davidson engines (natch). The chrome and paintwork is dazzling…



We then return to the house and refit the pannier, before departing for ‘the 10¢ tour’ of Richmond. Buddy & Sue both went to school here, and Buddy proves to be a keen and well-informed tour guide…

This part of the USA is the cradle of their struggle for independence, as well as the focus of the Civil War. We ride down Monument Avenue, past several impressive tributes to local heroes. The first is to Arthur Ashe, a tennis player who won Wimbledon in 1975, but was unable to play tennis in the local club when he was a child, because he was black…



His statue has its back turned to the other memorials –all of which commemorate Civil War heroes. This is not by accident – Ashe hated the prejudice in this town and refused to attend the dedication ceremony…

We then come across Maury, naval navigator…



…Stonewall Jackson, killed by his own troops…



…Jefferson Davis, President of the Confederacy…



…General Lee…




…and, finally, Major General Jeb Stuart, Cavalry Commander.



We then visit Hollywood Cemetery, which is a pleasant and tranquil home to, amongst many others, 80 thousand Confederate soldiers and 2 Presidents (three, if you include Jefferson Davis).



They all have an excellent view of Richmond’s skyline from here. The city is undergoing enormous amounts of work restoring the older and neglected industrial areas. Buddy admits that it bears little resemblance to the place he grew up in…



It’s now pleasantly warm, a major change from this time yesterday. So warm, in fact, that we sit outside for a cup of coffee – tomorrow is forecast to be even warmer. I don’t think it’s time to pack away the thermals quite yet, though…

Another point on the tourist trail, the State Capitol building. You can see Buddy (successfully) negotiating with the Policeman at the security desk to let us ride into the grounds (the legislature is in session, so we can’t enter the building).



The members of the legislature, who meet for a total of 60 days per year, have licence plates with their seat number on them. The Governor has No 1, the deputy No 2 and so on – the lower your number, the higher up the pecking order you are…



We leave Richmond via one last historical landmark. This is St John’s Episcopal Church, famous as the place where Patrick Henry made his ‘Give me liberty or give me death’ speech in 1775…



As the sun moves towards the horizon, we leave the city via Route 5, a series of long sweeping bends through the woods, which allows us a little spirited riding and helps to clear the cobwebs formed by creeping about in bad weather for the last few days…



That evening we go out to a very pleasant Italian restaurant. The decor & food is excellent, the wine’s good and the service is friendly. We are the only customers in the place, so are a little surprised that they choose this time to vacuum the restaurant…. I ask the young man to stop, which he does. What happened to my British reserve? Am I becoming American…

19th February

It promises to be a beautiful day, although it starts with a high overcast. After a swift McBreakfast (‘so, let me get this right – you put the whipped butter and the syrup on the pancakes?’) Buddy & I set out along Route 10 to the Jamestown Ferry, a service provided free by the state (Buddy’s tax dollars at work ). Apparently, running the ferry is cheaper than building a bridge…



We arrive in Jamestown, part of a large National Park complex incorporating Jamestown, Williamsburg & Yorktown. I buy a National Parks Annual Pass for $50 – allowing me free access to all National Parks in the USA for the next 12 months – bargain! Unfortunately, much of the woodland, as well as many of the buildings, were badly damaged by Hurricane Isabel in September 2003. The evidence of her passing this way is everywhere.

We walk around the Jamestown settlement – these early settlers really had a hard time of it. In between disease, hunger, hostile natives and incompetence, they died in their dozens during the first few years. We get an excellent informal brief on the progress of new archaeological digs from one of the volunteer guides, all of whom are keen and very well informed.



There are, as ever, statues and memorials all over the site. This is Pocahontas, before she met Disney, apparently…



Captain John Smith, the first Governor of Virginia, takes pride of place…



We follow the Colonial Parkway towards Williamsburg & Yorktown. It’s a picturesque road with a 45mph speed limit,



which soon delivers us (via a coffee-stop at Williamsburg) to Yorktown, the scene of General Cornwallis’s defeat at the hands of the American & French forces.



Poor old Cornwallis got stuffed by his bosses. The Royal Navy, in the shape of Admiral Graves, got a bloody nose from the French and beat a retreat to New York for repairs, sealing Cornwallis’s fate. Outgunned and out numbered, with no escape route, Cornwallis surrendered, which ensured that his troops survived.

Unfortunately this meant that a full third of the entire British Forces in America were now PoWs. This didn’t end the War of Independence immediately (that happened 2 yrs later), but it did force the British to the negotiating table.



We receive a guided tour of the Yorktown Victory Centre by a Park Ranger who, whilst very well informed, delivers his information like an animatronic figure from Disneyland.



He was very entertaining, however, and, with the information in the Visitors’ Centre, I felt that the National Parks Service had done a good job. Touring Jamestown after the tour, we found an American cannonball embedded in the wall of one of the buildings…



Feeling in need of refreshment, having just lost the colonies, Buddy & I drop in to the Yorktown Pub for a swift half…



It’s approaching dusk now, so we ride back along the Parkway to Colonial Williamsburg, a reconstruction of the town, built on the same site. During the day, it is populated by volunteers in period costume who give guided tours in various buildings (although this is quite expensive). Being cheapskates, Buddy & I walk up and down the main street (Duke of Gloucester Street), visiting the Capitol Building, which sports a Union Flag…



It’s getting dark now, so we set course for home, making good progress along Route 5, through the same sweeping woodland roads we rode yesterday evening. We get back home just after 7:30, having had an excellent day out.

I make some running repairs to the waterproof seal on my left pannier using some silicone sealant (hopefully this will sort the leak out) and go inside for a beer and an excellent meal, cooked by Sue’s fair hand



I may try the Blue Ridge Parkway again tomorrow – if it’s open…