Long, boring ride report (or, if all you other guys can do it...)
Stay tuned for the great EaSTOC ride report, or how one circle island riding kamaaina escaped to the real world to ride some super roads. This ride was no butt burner, or anything else to do with strange cult events on bikes. It is just one guy's relaxed (and wet) trip.
The whole thing started on Wednesday afternoon when I was dropped off at Kona airport. Walked straight onto an earlier Aloha plane, not the one I was booked on, so I had more time to sit in Honolulu sucking up the Sam Adams on tap at Stinger Ray's, the great bar in the inter-island terminal of the airport. After that, it was downhill for about 87 hours, as Delta buzzed me to Atlanta. I highly recommend earplugs on the plane. I think I must have gotten some sleep (unusual for me), as several times I found myself waking up with my mouth hanging open. No drools - however. And, I forgot to wave to Don Feyma as I flew over.
Over Texas and Arkansas the plane, a 757, went through some of the worst turbulence I have encountered. There were major warnings from the cockpit, and I heard the cabin attendants yelling at each other to buckle in and use the shoulder harnesses. Then the bottom fell out! More later.
When I got off the plane at Atlanta, I was nearly knocked over to see this big sign with the STOC logo and my name being held up right at the gate. Hiding behind was Robert Coats. We immediately began discussing tyres and headshake, and finally remembered to get my bags.
Robert was kind enough to chauffer me to Roswell Fun Machines, where I picked up the rental ST1100. Getting the bike was easy. I just flipped over the AMEX, and they ran it through the machine an unknown number of times. One was for about $800 for the rental - $125 per day, less 15% discount for a week, and probably lots of taxes. The other was for $1000 for a damage deposit. Come to think of it, I never got that one back! I should mention that the $1000 is not the deductible on the collision policy, as there isn't any! What you do after $1000 probably involves people in dark suits with skinny ties, and names like Guido. Luckily I didn't learn any more about this.
I have mentioned the bike a bit already, but here is the rest. It has a Corbin rumble seat, and after a 150 mile ride on my stock seat today, I am just about ready to buy a new seat. That good. It also had a Gustafson windscreen. This was a very tall unit, and by sitting up I could just look over it down the road. By the end of most days, it was harder to look over! It was just flat too tall for me. Also, it was as narrow as the stock shield, and wasn't all that effective at noise reduction, although it was a lot quieter than my stock. Kept most of the wind off the head though, and I could ride all day open shield, except for the rain.
The bike is silver, and had about 39K when I got it. The engine was pretty bad, and had almost nothing below 3K (except a lot of vibration). I told them about this, along with the bad head bearings. The guy at RFM, Jon, said they would have a go at it.
Robert helped me find a nearby hotel, and then went off to get ready to leave early the next morming. I went out to get something to eat and get gas for the bike. When I got back to the hotel I got the bike ready. I installed the radar detector mount on the screen and put some Velcro pads on the dask. I installed the tank bag straps and did a test fit on the bag. I also stuck my rubber gloves and a chamois in the left fairing pocket.
I must have been coasting on the excitement, as I totally crashed right after this. But not before I looked at the Weather Channel. They had the prettiest colors on their maps, right where my plane had been flying. So that's what red and blue feel like at 30,000 feet! Then they did this trick with the map, called prediction, where the pretty red and blue colors move toward the east. Moved toward Atlanta, and Cruso, in fact. They showed that the big storm would be on us Friday morning, and last all day Saturday, with the first possible clearing on Sunday. But that would be accompanied by much cooler weather. OK, so I hoped they had had a color accident, and that everything would be perfect.
About 1900 I turned in, and was instantly asleep. Woke up at about 0530, and figured I had enough sleep, but the next thing I remember is the alarm at 0715. Slept around the clock!
Friday morning I went out about 0815 to pack the bike. I think the rain started as I stepped out the door. At 0830 Robert rode up in his raingear, already a bit wet. I got the 'stitch on, along with my rubber gloves, and we headed out to Shoney's in Cumming, about 15 miles away by the slab. That was great by me, as I was still feeling out the bike and the Michleins.
By the time we got to Shoney's the rain was a bit less. We parked in the rain, and I had my worries about the tank bag's survivability. In fact, it does pretty well since I Scotchguarded it.
As there were no other bikes there waiting for us, we went in to wait. Next lesson. One piece 'stitches are a pain in a restaurant. No coat rack, and no disrobing area, so it had to go with me. I got it off and put it on an adjacent, empty chair. Next lesson is that LOL's don't like soaking wet seats, as I learned later when that table was occupied. Final restaurant 'stitch lesson is that while the 'stitch may be waterproof, if you throw it on the floor, all the water on the outside now ends up on the inside.
At about 0915 Robert and I gave up and hit the trough. This, of course, guaranteed the imminent arrival of Ralph Paxton and Susan, who joined us in a welcome feeding session. We also talked a lot about tyres and headshake.
We were waiting for one more rider (? no show), and perhaps an end to the rain, so we didn't leave until about 1030. In that time Robert and Ralph had decided to blow off the wonderful, planned twisty road route, and just drive up on whatever slabs were going in that direction. There would be no fun riding this day!
At we were gearing up for the ride, Robert reached into his bottomless STOC sticker collection and cristened the rental bike. Now I could be a real STOC'er at the rally.
We rode up on I-985 and US23, which gave us four-lane most of the way. Perfect rain riding roads, in fact, except for a few curvy bits. Robert led much of the way, as he had the best knowledge of the route. The speeds were a bit high for this poor country boy, and we were in the 75-85 range most of the way. The speed didn't seem to vary a bit for the changing volume of rain coming down either.
Somewhere along the way I figured I had better watch out for my boots, as I had neglected to put on the dreaded booties. I found that keeping just my toes on the pegs got the boots out of most of the flying water, and they stayed mostly dry. Of course I got great cramps in my legs.
We made one stop just north of the North Carolina border for refueling on Ralph's bike, and to dry off the humans a bit. Ralph took this time to belatedly put on some rubber surgical gloves. Susan's beautiful full set of black leathers were starting to look even blacker (and nicer, but she didn't share that sentiment). I was mostly dry except for a bit down the front and back of the STOC T-shirt, where it had run off the helmet, and the inside of the helmet itself, where it was soaked.
After the stop Ralph led the way non-stop to Waynesville. Somewhere on this route I got one good spincter clinching spook as we did a long, decreasing radius sweeper at about 75 in the rain. I don't think I had ever seen a surface look so slippery. I guess the bike made it around it - I say guess, because I was only looking for the end of the curve.
We got to Waynesville, and it had mostly stopped raining. We had a late lunch at Long John Silvers, mostly because we didn't want to spend a lot of time at this. Ralph and Susan decided to try for a motel in Waynesville, as the thought of soggy camping was beginning to look like too much after the soggy ride.
So Robert and I headed off to Cruso, on US276 south. For a change it was dry all the way, and the road had some great turns. Unfortunately, it was kids-out-of-school time, and we got stuck behind two buses.
We got to the campground, probably about four, and immediately met some of the gang. We checked in and got our assignments. Robert had a single cabin, and I had the luxury trailer. I say luxury because I had the only private bathroom in the place. Also, the only heater and only electrical outlet. Wow!
We then met the guys sharing a cabin that was between our places - Don
Feyma and Claude Hill. I remember Don, because of the proffered can
of beer in his outstretched hand. Just what I needed, so we all sat
down on a picnic table outside the cabin and talked about headshake
and tyres.
In a bit Don thought it might be good to take the beer over to the main, covered shed with lots of picnic tables where everyone else was hanging out. More beer got passed around - turns out the county is dry, and Henry, the campground owner wouldn't let us bring the packages of beer into the shelter. Had to leave them outside, in the rain, which was starting up again. Anyhow, with the beer came more welcome tyre and headshake talk.
About this time Ralph and Susan showed up, having found no motel rooms in Waynesville. They pitched their tent near the stream and came back to talk about...
Later we all had a good meal, still in the same place. The BRCC does
great country cooking for breakfast and dinner. Then talk turned to
the weather and when Derek Finch would show up, so we could hang him.
Henry made a fire outside in this strange stove contraption made of
old steel drums and other junk, and we all stood around outside after
the rain broke for a bit. Lots more t and hs talk, and finally
everyone gave up waiting for Derek. I think I saw him a bit later
when I was looking outside and saw someone who looked like a prowler
going from cabin to cabin and feeling the doors.
During the night there was a real downpour, like someone opened the faucet, or the cow and flat rock thing. Some of the campers got a bit wet, and the creek rose, but not enough for alarm. Me, I turned up the heater a bit. Real cozy! Sorry Ralph and Susan, but it really was nice with the heater.
The next day, Saturday, the day of the big ride:
Went for breakfast at about 0800, and met Derek. Others showed up, and we had breakfast watching the incessant rain outside the shelter. Everyone decided there was no way we would get in a ride, and the weather report, on Robert's weather radio, confirmed this. So, we talked more tyres and headshake.
At about 1330 a bunch of us, punchy from too much headshake, and with
no lunch being served, decided to break out for some chow. The
crazies were Ralph & Susan, Robert, Pete Wells, Derek, myself, and
Steve Stevens and a lady friend. Those last two stayed in Ashville
and commuted to the campground each day. Nice wet riding all the way,
with some signs of significant flooding in a couple of places.
We went to Bogarts in Waynesville, and a great place it was. I provided the entertainment. There was a stairway to an unused upper area, and everyone was putting helmets and raingair on the stairs. I moved back to let Susan get up to a clear place, and sat on an exposed light bulb. There was a muffled pop, and then some smoke. Startled Susan a bit, and then we started cracking up. Guess Andy should add light bulb proof to his next 'stitch ad. The warm, cheerful lunch was well worth the wet ride, but the return wet ride didn't exactly help that feeling.
Back at the campground the hungry folk (except for Claude who had apparently escaped to a fast food joint) were on round 37 of headshake and tyres. During the afternoon the standard talk was interrupted by Claude, who gave a lengthy and technically impecible discourse on the Internet. We had another great dinner looking out at the rain, and continued to talk about headshake and tyres, but I believe one malcontent mentioned seats.
At about 8 everyone was giving up, so I went over to the campground office building to see what the group that had wandered over there was doing. Shortly after I got there we started a rock poker game. Ralph went outside and got a handful of rocks, which he distributed as chips. The gang, me, Susan, Ralph, Don, Robert, and Claude, played until about 2300. I figured I must have won, as I never had to go back to the rockpile. However, Claude had the biggest pile of rocks. He was actually doing terribly until he decided to go broke to get out of the game and go to bed. That's when he started winning.
During this Derek came by - seems he had slept through dinner and was
hitting the snack machines. The conversation somehow turned to
'stitches, probably because mine was on the floor. I had worn it most
of the afternoon and evening, because it was getting cold. Someone
questioned the time to get into the thing, and I ended up doing a
demo. 28 seconds! How's that, Andy? I kept the faith.
Derek talked about a Sunday ride, as the weather was still supposed to totally clear up. Also, Derek begged to have his gloves dried by my heater, as they were quite soaked from the day's lunch run. I put them on top of my helmet, which was itself in front of the heater to be dried. In the morning the gloves were fairly dry, but I used my hair dryer to finish them from the inside out. I mentioned this at breakfast, and soon had a line (OK, only Derek and Robert) who wanted to dry their helmets. Who says hair dryers on bike tours are for sissies!
I left them to their tasks, and Don and I rode back towards Waynesville to get gas for the ride. I also got some Tylenol, as I was starting to feel the standard airplane induced cold coming on. I'm sure riding an ST in the rain and standing around in the cold have nothing to do with getting a cold.
Lots of people had already departed by ride time, as no Sunday ride had been planned and schedules had to be kept. The group who left at about 1030 was Derek (lead), Don (the only one returning to the camp), Tim Moore, Milas Ballard, James Bland, me, and one more. All ST's, and a great ride.
We went down US276 to the Blue Ridge Parkway and then north on the
Parkway. I was still learning to ride the Michleins, and think I did
well to keep up. We stopped at Craggy Dome overlook, which is at a
bit over 5000 feet, for a nature call, group photo, and some last
minute headshake and tyre talk. There were no restrooms, so we headed
off into the bush. Don or maybe Tim, in his haste, was letting go,
when he looked up and saw a sign warning about this being the Ashville
water reserve area, and listing all the things not to do on that
particular spot. Not sure it mentioned pi**ing, but we got a laugh.
After this, it was off to Mount Mitchell for a farewell lunch. After lunch, we all said our goodbyes, as we were all going to split off at various points north on the Parkway. I took this time to get my helmet speakers installed and start having some good road sounds to ride with. This put me last out of the gate. However, having Joe Walsh blasting through my head on the outrageous Parkway turns was worth it.
We left as a group again, and had some more good riding. There was one righteous right hander, with steadily decreasing radius that nearly got me. Midway through the turn there was a crashed bike over on the left berm. I looked that way, of course, to see if it was one of ours (wasn't), but it threw me off line. Got it all together, and made it, but it shook me up a bit. There were others there helping, so we didn't need to stop. Don says he dragged his toe through most of that turn. I didn't touch anything in my whole trip, although I'm not sure why.
A bit later I stood up to stretch and pulled out my phone plug. I waved at the gang and pulled into an overlook to reconnect. Two riders who were at the crash passed by just before I pulled back out, only about a minute later. We motored on for just another few minutes, when at the interstion of NC80 I saw another bike down on the right side. The two bikes in front of me were stopping, and I looked over and saw it was a black ST! I quickly pulled over, and saw Derek sitting on the pavement, almost under his bike. The bike itself was over more than 90 degrees - in other words, the rubber was no longer down. Really should have snapped a pic, but better sense prevailed. I also saw Don just getting off his bike. There were no other ST's, as they were all ahead of Derek and Don.
By the time I got to the bike everyone was talking to and checking Derek out. I noticed the bike's ingnition was still on, and gas was dripping out. I switched it off, just in case. We saw Derek was mostly OK, so the rest of us (4) righted the bike. A good bit of gas had spilled, and was on the right side of the fairing. Later we found another fluid (??) had spilled out near the rear master cylinder or shock. Seemed oily, but I wasn't sure what it was.
Derek was shaken a bit (and pissed when I finally took some pictures),
but was in one piece. He had hurt his right arm when he went over,
and his glove palm was scuffed up a bit. Otherwise he seemed OK, but
the arm was pretty stiff. Don dipped into his pharmacy and gave him
some pain killers, and we sat around a bit, intently avoiding tyre and
headshake talk.
Finally Don had to go, so Derek and I hung around for another 20
minutes, until he decided it was time to try riding. I really didn't
have a firm destination, so I thought hanging was the best use of my
time. Derek's arm was getting stiffer, and he had lost so much
movement in his hand that I had to help with the helmet buckle.
Still, home called, so he mounted up and I watched him head down 80.
He seemed OK as far as I could watch, so I waved to him and set out to
resume my mainland journey.
Bill - who survived EaSTOC in his cozy, warm trailer