Very suddenly last Saturday night I found myself slated to leave the following Sunday morning for a group ride up to Tuggles Gap, in Floyd County, VA. Tuggles Gap is the site of a tasty restaurant that is situated adjacent to the Blue Ridge Parkway, is a destination for motorcyclists, and, of course, is surrounded by twisty mountain roads.
This was to be the last real ride of the year for the group I ride with the most so of course I wanted to go. That desire to go was unfortunately tempered by a large dose of trepidation on a few different fronts. Namely:
The ride up to Tuggles Gap took us about four hours and was pretty uneventful. The day never really got as warm as I would have liked and consequently I never completely warmed up. On the other hand, we were gaining altitude the entire morning and I was never really that cold either. The roads were fairly typical in the NC foothills: Lots of trees, lots of long, sweeping curves, and not too much traffic. The kind of thing I've always liked. Once we crossed into Virginia and got close to the Gap things changed a bit and we hit the first of what I consider the "real" mountain roads, i.e. rising and falling roads full of blind and decreasing-radius turns, and sharp, rising switchbacks. All sprinkled liberally with wet spots, fallen leaves, and gravel, of course. The kinds of roads my friend Jim, who's been riding in these mountains for decades, so eloquently calls "goat paths."
This little section was the first time I'd ridden roads like this since the crash. I was fairly unsettled so I let the rest of the riders go on ahead, dialed back the speed, and just took it easy. I managed to get through it without scaring myself, but saying I enjoyed it would be a bit of an overstatement.
We had a nice, leisurely lunch at the Tuggles Gap Restaurant, full of the comraderie that I so value on motorcycle trips. We talked about all kinds of things, but of course mostly motorcycles. Lunch was good but soon enough finished and it was time to get the bikes back on the road and get headed toward home.
Rather than head back the way we'd come the decision was made to take a route back that would have us on more of these typical mountain roads. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, much preferring to stick with the long sweepers rather than the "goat paths," but of course I went along without complaint. The route took us east along the NC/Virginia boarder toward Danville, VA and encompassed VA Highway 40, not to be confused with Interstate 40. Large sections of this road turned out to conform to Jim's "goat path" definition beautifully, including a sharp, blind, decreasing-radius, 15mph (posted) corner that was strown with gravel. Listening to the stories at the next gas stop, this corner scared everyone in the group but me (I was following my previous pattern of letting the rest go and slowing way, way down). In fact, one of our riders actually lost the back end on this curve but was able to save it. Another overcooked it into the decreasing radius section, had to slam the bike over on it's side to make the curve, and indeed wound up overcorning and almost ended up in the grass on the inside of the corner before he could get the bike back upright and going straight again. Maybe there's a good reason these roads scare me, no?
This was the last eventful section of the ride. From there we all decided to hit the super-slab highway and just make time getting home. We were all tired, the temperature was dropping again, and, having originally planned on being back in Raleigh by 4pm or so, we were a couple of hours behind schedule. I ended up getting home around 6pm.
The Monster turned out to be a pretty good bike for the trip, my only real complaints being lack of luggage and lack of range. The bike confirmed yet again that it was a good selection for my current single-bike status. The Monster's seat was good enough, my wrists weren't hurting, and I was generally in pretty good shape for having spent most of 9 hours on a motorcycle. I had some aches and pains but most of them were attributable more to not being acclimated to spending large amounts of time on a motorcycle anymore rather than the motorcycle itself. The Monster wasn't as comfortable as the Multistrada would have been, but it was not bad at all. Had I done this same ride on my 1098 I would probably have been visiting a chiropractor afterwards.
The jury is still out on the "mountain experience" for me. I've quite honestly been scared of riding in the mountains since my untimely encounter with a truck on a twisty mountain road near Sparta, NC back in May. This trip was something of a "getting back on the horse" trip for me, but I'm not sure it really helped. I enjoyed most of the ride, but the twisty mountain sections I could have happily done without. Even now I have no real desire to repeat the experience. That leaves me with the question of whether it's simply a confidence problem that I'll eventually overcome or if the mountains are now one of my boogeymen. I honestly don't know. The strange thing is that I would happily, eagerly, and willingly have gotten back on a motorcyle the day after the crash if I could have. I've never once experienced even the slightest bit of hesitation or trepidation about riding bikes. As I said before though: those mountain roads scare the crap out of me.
This was to be the last real ride of the year for the group I ride with the most so of course I wanted to go. That desire to go was unfortunately tempered by a large dose of trepidation on a few different fronts. Namely:
- It would be my longest ride since the crash back in May and I was unsure how my still-healing knee would take it.
- It was my first mountain ride since the crash and frankly the sketchy, blind corners (like the one that was the site of my crash) that the mountains are so full of scare the crap out of me now.
- It was to be my longest ride to date on the new Monster. Admittedly, a minor worry. I was mostly just hoping not to be too uncomfortable.
The ride up to Tuggles Gap took us about four hours and was pretty uneventful. The day never really got as warm as I would have liked and consequently I never completely warmed up. On the other hand, we were gaining altitude the entire morning and I was never really that cold either. The roads were fairly typical in the NC foothills: Lots of trees, lots of long, sweeping curves, and not too much traffic. The kind of thing I've always liked. Once we crossed into Virginia and got close to the Gap things changed a bit and we hit the first of what I consider the "real" mountain roads, i.e. rising and falling roads full of blind and decreasing-radius turns, and sharp, rising switchbacks. All sprinkled liberally with wet spots, fallen leaves, and gravel, of course. The kinds of roads my friend Jim, who's been riding in these mountains for decades, so eloquently calls "goat paths."
This little section was the first time I'd ridden roads like this since the crash. I was fairly unsettled so I let the rest of the riders go on ahead, dialed back the speed, and just took it easy. I managed to get through it without scaring myself, but saying I enjoyed it would be a bit of an overstatement.
We had a nice, leisurely lunch at the Tuggles Gap Restaurant, full of the comraderie that I so value on motorcycle trips. We talked about all kinds of things, but of course mostly motorcycles. Lunch was good but soon enough finished and it was time to get the bikes back on the road and get headed toward home.
Rather than head back the way we'd come the decision was made to take a route back that would have us on more of these typical mountain roads. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, much preferring to stick with the long sweepers rather than the "goat paths," but of course I went along without complaint. The route took us east along the NC/Virginia boarder toward Danville, VA and encompassed VA Highway 40, not to be confused with Interstate 40. Large sections of this road turned out to conform to Jim's "goat path" definition beautifully, including a sharp, blind, decreasing-radius, 15mph (posted) corner that was strown with gravel. Listening to the stories at the next gas stop, this corner scared everyone in the group but me (I was following my previous pattern of letting the rest go and slowing way, way down). In fact, one of our riders actually lost the back end on this curve but was able to save it. Another overcooked it into the decreasing radius section, had to slam the bike over on it's side to make the curve, and indeed wound up overcorning and almost ended up in the grass on the inside of the corner before he could get the bike back upright and going straight again. Maybe there's a good reason these roads scare me, no?
This was the last eventful section of the ride. From there we all decided to hit the super-slab highway and just make time getting home. We were all tired, the temperature was dropping again, and, having originally planned on being back in Raleigh by 4pm or so, we were a couple of hours behind schedule. I ended up getting home around 6pm.
The Monster turned out to be a pretty good bike for the trip, my only real complaints being lack of luggage and lack of range. The bike confirmed yet again that it was a good selection for my current single-bike status. The Monster's seat was good enough, my wrists weren't hurting, and I was generally in pretty good shape for having spent most of 9 hours on a motorcycle. I had some aches and pains but most of them were attributable more to not being acclimated to spending large amounts of time on a motorcycle anymore rather than the motorcycle itself. The Monster wasn't as comfortable as the Multistrada would have been, but it was not bad at all. Had I done this same ride on my 1098 I would probably have been visiting a chiropractor afterwards.
The jury is still out on the "mountain experience" for me. I've quite honestly been scared of riding in the mountains since my untimely encounter with a truck on a twisty mountain road near Sparta, NC back in May. This trip was something of a "getting back on the horse" trip for me, but I'm not sure it really helped. I enjoyed most of the ride, but the twisty mountain sections I could have happily done without. Even now I have no real desire to repeat the experience. That leaves me with the question of whether it's simply a confidence problem that I'll eventually overcome or if the mountains are now one of my boogeymen. I honestly don't know. The strange thing is that I would happily, eagerly, and willingly have gotten back on a motorcyle the day after the crash if I could have. I've never once experienced even the slightest bit of hesitation or trepidation about riding bikes. As I said before though: those mountain roads scare the crap out of me.
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