Travel accounts from professional journalists, specifically professional moto-journalists don’t inspire me. They interest me, make me wish I could do likewise, but they don’t inspire me. Congratulations to those that have combined the work, education and talent to make a living as a writer, rider, explorer, photographer. Your stuff will be, and should be better than my friends and mine. But, following adventures of people on bikes on loan from a manufacturer, in gear under review, on a magazine’s per diem, and on time that is or will be paid for doesn’t inspire me. It’s the amateur stuff that inspires me. Show me that special trip on a not so new machine, that you planned, prepared for, and executed all while being a productive member of society in a separate career, and that will make me wish I could do likewise AND make me think I CAN do likewise. That’s inspiration. Where do I find the kind of amateur swill that makes me want to get out and go? Places like FJRiders, of course.
The 1911’s do Reuben Run 7
And find a little more adventure than sought
But first, some “before” pix
The first 2 ½ to 3 days of this event are supposed to be uneventful. Eat up a lot of miles to get to the good stuff. The “extra”, minor though it may be, adventure starts right off the bat. Planning a mostly camping trip that starts on a three day weekend gets a little tricky. Many campgrounds demand a 2 or 3 night minimum. None of the first 3 nights stays are anywhere near my first choice spots.
We start out a little late, headed to Hardin Ridge State Park, a little south of Bloomington, Indiana. Shooting up I-26 we expect heavy traffic through Asheville, being the Saturday before Labor Day. Just before Hendersonville the gridlock starts so I bail off the slab. The plan is to use the Blue Ridge parkway to by-pass Asheville. We get over to the BRP and do just that, pleasantly, but not until we’ve navigated through the Hendersonville Apple Festival
Once we’ve cleared Asheville we run an anti-interstate route to get us around Knoxville that takes us through Hot Springs NC and Bean Station Tn, where we take the only picture on day one.
This may be the prettiest sky of the whole trip.
We roll into Hardin Ridge a little after dark and start looking for our campsite. After about three laps around the loop that our site is supposed to be on we dismount at the bathhouse to get out the flashlights and take a closer look at the campground map. The campsite numbers take an odd jump in numbers every time I think we’re getting close. As soon as we dismount we see the sign and trail. I’ve mistakenly booked a “walk-in” campsite. It’s about a ¼ mile hike to the site. It’s going to take a lot of trips to get all our stuff to the site. I walk down to check it out. I have a brainstorm on the way back. I unhitch the trailer and push it down the trail to the campsite. At least it’s secluded and quiet. It’s been a hot sticky day. Getting the gear to the campsite has been somewhat of a workout. After a late dinner and a shower we enjoy a hot sticky night on top of the sleeping bag.
We get an early start to day two, before the rangers catch us with a trailer at our campsite. We plan to spend night two at Indian Cave State Park in Nebraska. This day starts well enough. A lot of it looks like this
We enjoy lunch in Mark Twain’s shadow, Hannibal Mo
and then move on toward the night’s camp.
I’d been in touch with forum member Twisted Cricket, picking his brain about the area, when planning this night’s lodging. A week out he’s warned about the weather and GENEROUSLY offered an alternative in Omaha. And boy, did he call it. About half way across Missouri we run into the edge of the storms and start looking at the radar. There’s flash flood warning boxes on top of Indian Ridge SP and big yellow and red blobs between us and Omaha. On night two we camp out at a motel in Chillicothe Missouri.
We make it to night three’s stop smoothly and actually get the tent up and dinner on the stove before sunset, or at least as the sun sets.
The summer at home hasn’t been terribly hot but it has been super-extra humid. I’ve been sweating through my belt for months. Our first cool dry night of the trip, in Douglas Wyoming is REFRESHING. It’s like eating a four pound York Peppermint Patty. I think you can buy those things at Cracker Barrell. Tuesday morning breaks…..um…..brisk
On the way in Mrs1911 saw a Jackalope statue that she wants a picture of so as we leave Douglas we stop by to get one. It’s at a rail museum. We check out the place and learn that Douglas is the Jackalope capital of the world.
And then we continue west. As we get our first eyeful of the Grand Tetons smoke and haze from summer fires makes the scene just a tiny bit less breathtaking than I suspect it would be without the fires. It’s something we’ll be dealing with the whole trip-just adds a little adventure.
More to come
but Mrs1911 says to move on. So KOA St Mary it is.
