Ride Diary

Here's an account of my thousand-mile weekend trip through Virginia, West Virginia and Ohio, with a few lessons learned interspersed.

I've been blessed so far on my long-distance trips of having good weather. My luck ran out this weekend on a trip to visit my folks in Ohio. I planned a route to hit the maximum twisties in WV and Ohio and I enticed Matt Patton join me on the way out. On Friday we headed to Seneca Rocks on route 55 and then worked west to Philippi on routes 33, 72 and 38. On 72 it started to rain, lightly, but every corner was strewn with gravel and some cases sticky red mud, which ranks somewhere between ice and diesel fuel in slipperiness. For a state highway, 72 is a very poor road, with no centerlines or shoulders and seemingly little maintenance.

After regaining good pavement and leaving the rain behind, we had a pretty fast romp over to Clarksburg, where we picked up route 20, which offers non-stop twisties and sweepers all the way to the Ohio River. In the dry and with little traffic, this promised to be a fun and fast ride. It was not to be. Somewhere in the middle, cars in the opposing lanes started flashing their lights and then a fire-fighter appeared with an orange flag. "Can't let ya through, wires down. No telling when the power company will be here." I spotted a smoking power pole in the distance. He muttered something about a detour. The skies blackened. I thought about donning my rain gear. Which brings me to Lesson #1. If you have the slightest inkling you need your rain gear, PUT YOUR RAIN GEAR ON. Sorry to shout. But we were rushed because the vehicles behind us were turning around to lead the detour.

Having only an auto club map, I had not a clue how to navigate the back roads in area, so we hurriedly mounted up and followed the other vehicles, straight into a deluge. Needless to say perfed leathers ward off a hard rain for about a second. Then it turned into a muddy deluge as we left the highway and turned on to a rutted, muddy mess of road which climbed over two ridges, complete with hair-raising hairpin turns. Pavement was undetermined. I think it was a gravel road, but all I saw was mud and torrents of water. Of course, the VFR is hardly the best mount for such conditions, but somehow I managed to keep her upright with careful throttle control and rear brake application. The worst part was not being able to see through rain-streaked faceshield and steamed up glasses. After what seemed like an eternity we reached pavement again. Matt headed back to the DC area and I continued into Ohio. Southeast Ohio lives up to its billing and I plotted a course on some wonderfully twisty roads. My enthusiasm was dampened a bit by the generous piles of gravel, mud and debris that the storm had washed onto the road. I engaged some serious sphincter pucker on one corner which was covered by muddy slop. You have to read the pavement ahead very carefully for anything that looks "off."

Lesson #2: Highway crews usually put up signs for a reason. Case in point: "Road subject to flooding" said the sign. Mental note: look for water. OK, water spotted, looks like a shallow puddle. Slow a little. FOOM!! I hit a foot deep stretch of water at about 35 to 40 mph. Boots instantly fill with water through the open vents. Water plumes up over my head. By chance I had had the presence of mind to stop in the last town to finally put on rain gear after my leathers dried a little from the last episode. OK, don't panic, downshift... downshift damn it (engine please don't stall) and ride through. Engine doesn't stall, my heart nearly jumps out of my chest, but I keep moving and stay upright. I guess the VFR's electricals are very well waterproofed. I finally pulled up at my parents house, after covering almost 500 miles and some of those were very hard work.

I arrived pretty tired, but also with a sense of accomplishment. My skills had been tested that day and in unexpected ways. Corner-strafing on dry, smooth pavement was relatively easy by comparison to some of that stuff.

After spending Saturday relaxing, visiting and doing chain maintenance, I prepared to head back to DC on Sunday. The forecast was ominous with flood warnings in the mountains. Leave it to the Weather Service and the Weather Channel to describe the movement of moist tropical air masses in excruciating detail, even though there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Oh well, time to don the rain gear and get going, knowing it was going to rain all day, and how. I rode about thirty miles before it really started coming down with gusto. I rode with a group of four Harley riders for a little bit, some two-up, some without rain gear, some without helmets, Ohio being a helmet-optional state. The temperature was about 70 and I was borderline cold in soaked gloves, dry leathers and rain suit. They were getting very wet and very cold and their speed seemed to verify that. I passed them with a friendly wave. I didn't see any other bikers for two hundred miles, and they were Wingers who gave we a big wave.

I motored on and the rain would slacken for a bit, then pick up again. I forgot to put in ear plugs at one stop and the noise of the rain on the helmet became unbearable, so I pulled into a gas station with a large canopy. I continued on traveling on some beautiful roads, including Ohio 260 between Caldwell and New Matamoras. Gotta do that one again when it's dry. A wild turkey ran out in front of me on the road, but those things can really run and luckily he scooted safely out of the way. I crossed the Ohio River into W.Va. on the Fly-Sistersville ferry, which shaved about twenty miles off my route. I was determined to run WV Rt. 20 again and it was fun, although very wet with gravel and mud, and the occasional butt slow cager with nowhere to pass.

This time the plan was to pick up US 50 across the remainder of the state and the western tip of Maryland, in lieu of Friday's route. Again it was with rain oscillating between drizzle and downpour, with heavy fog at the higher elevations. East of Grafton Rt. 50 is a nice wide road with lots of twisties and three major ascents and descents. I made the best of the situation. Speed was not an option, due to the inevitability of debris on the road, so I concentrated on being smooth with the gears and seamlessly managing the brake to throttle transitions, all the while being vigilant for any change in the pavement texture that could spell trouble. This sort of mental activity (90% of motorcycling as they say) helped me to stay alert under the constant mind-numbing sizzle of tires on wet pavement and the drumbeat of rain on the helmet. Actually the twisties help you stay focused. I find being on the super-slab, eating 18-wheeler mist, in the rain, to be the absolute worst. The VFR and the D205s handled well without complaint all day, although wet hands, clammy leathers and damp feet were starting to get a little old. After ten hours of that, partially due to lots of breaks, I finally rolled into DC, longing for a hot shower and hot meal. It had been another 450 miles in the saddle and the bike was dirty, but none the worse for wear. I'm ready to hit WV again, maybe some sunshine next time would be nice.