Back roads biking
To get the most out of a motorcycle vacation in the United States, take the road less traveled.
By GARY McKECHNIE
Published February 26, 2006
The engine of my Kawasaki motorcycle pulses like a power drill and, reaching the crest of a hill, I twist the throttle, drop into a curve and accelerate through a thick tunnel of trees. The wind sweeps over my helmet and again I think nature is washing over me - the mountains, lakes and trees.
After a month traversing America on motorcycles, with all I need pressed into the saddlebags, every excuse I had used to convince my wife that I needed to make this journey had been validated.
Motorcycle travelers look for certain elements to make a "great'' ride: Freedom from the interstates, avoiding the homogenization of America, escaping the routine.
Of the 25 runs I selected for my book Great American Motorcycle Tours, I searched for back roads that provided this difference from the everyday - plus great scenery and towns steeped in history. My destinations had to be walking towns that allow visitors to experience the essence of place.
Here are some of my favorite trips that - whether you're on a bike or in a car - can deliver you into the heart of America.
1. Berkshires-Central Vermont Run, 334 miles
The ride from Lenox, Mass., to Stowe, Vt., compressed a nation's worth of ideal motorcycling roads into a relatively small area. It also met the benchmarks for a perfect run: culture, history and scenery.
Lenox made its mark during the Gilded Age, when some of the nation's early millionaires bought land and built estates to rival those of Newport, R.I. As grand as these mansions are, I was drawn instead to the American spirit found in the Norman Rockwell Museum in neighboring Stockbridge, and to a preconcert picnic dinner on the lawn at Tanglewood, summer home of the Boston Symphony Orchestra.
As I rode north along Route 7A, the countryside unfurled in a picture of a rural autumn: old men in overalls selling pumpkins by the roadside, cornstalks stacked like teepees, sunflowers sagging under their own weight, and flower gardens speckling yards.
Past picturesque Williamstown, the steep grades delivered me to Vermont and eventually into Manchester Village. I rode on toward Route 11 to reach State Road 100, which cleaves a path through the center of the Green Mountains and took me into the heart of Vermont.
I didn't spare the horsepower as I headed toward Plymouth Notch and the Calvin Coolidge State Historic Site, a turn-of-the-century village preserved in honor of its famous son. That evening I rested in Woodstock, which, with its church steeples, village green, lazy river, and covered bridge, seemed painted by Currier & Ives.
The next morning I completed the run to Stowe, passing folks who embody the free enterprise system: individuals who live miles from any mall and make their living from home as bakers, carpenters, flute carvers, honey farmers, antiques dealers, artists and maple syrup entrepreneurs.
Arriving in Stowe, I looked back and realized I had just ridden the best of the Berkshires and experienced the essence of Vermont.
I was content.
2. Arkansas Ozark Mountain Run, 210 miles
After riding Scenic 7 between Hot Springs and its magnificent sister, Eureka Springs, I now wake each morning wishing to go back to Arkansas.
After gaining fame as a Gilded Age resort town with bars, spas, casinos and horse racing, Hot Springs hit its stride when its favorite son, Bill Clinton, became president. Today, gambling's gone - as is Clinton - but what remains is a most unusual town where the west side of Central Avenue is in the town of Hot Springs while the east side sits in the national park of that name.
The appeal of this park is a row of circa-1900 bath houses that are still pumping steaming, mineral-rich waters that first attracted the Quapaw Indians to this land in the 1700s.
Riding north from the well-preserved historic district, I gunned the engine to reach a 1.8-million-acre sanctuary known as the Ouachita National Forest. This is where the Scenic 7 Byway alternated a few slow downhills and casual S-curves with steep uphill climbs.
After seeing sunken valleys and a landscape sprinkled with lakes, I endured the congestion between Dardanelle and Russellville to reach a sign warning me that 63 miles of "Steep Curves and Sharp Drops'' lay ahead. Yessir!
As civilization receded in my mirrors, I rode into the Piney Creeks Wildlife Area, where narrow roads took me higher to Moccasin Gap and the Hog Heaven scenic overlook.
After turning off Scenic 7, I headed west on 74 West where, just past Ponca, I entered a most amazing confluence of roads and environments. One minute I seemed to be riding through North Carolina, the next past scenes of Vermont, which were followed by central California grasslands and then traces of a Wyoming prairie.
I reached Eureka Springs, one of America's more amazing communities. This town of 2,400 has more than 50 bed and breakfasts, three historic hotels, a steam railroad, a Passion Play, American Indian site, nearly 100 spas and massage studios, and a preserve for orphaned and abused tigers and bears. And near town is the secluded Thorncrown Chapel, named by members of the American Institute of Architecture as the fourth-best building design of the 20th century.
Good roads and unexpected discoveries. The essence of a perfect motorcycle run.
3. Montana-Wyoming Wild West Run, 326 miles
There were unlimited pleasures on my ride through the Great Plains: characters from Western novels, fantastic views of mountain ranges and glacier lakes, the bracing feel of cool winds and enough photo ops to make a full-length film.
With its great saloons and a Great Depression veneer, Livingston, Mont., is locked in the 1940s - America before the chain-store revolution.
From there, along the 55-mile shot south to Yellowstone National Park, the Yellowstone River would brush against the road then retreat toward the mountains. The highway tried to match it with some curves and descents, and too soon I was at the entrance to Yellowstone.
The park gave me more than I could expect: an absence of commercial vehicles but lots of wide canyons, a glistening lake, Old Faithful, and the memorable sight of a mother grizzly and her two cubs. My only wish was for a telephoto lens and automatic door locks.
Resisting the temptation to stay for an extra year, I headed south toward Jackson Hole. It was tough to leave what turned out to be the most soul-satisfying vision of my year's journeys: the magnificence of the Grand Tetons reflected in the icy waters of Jackson Lake.
Instead of heading out of Jackson for one of the nearby white-water rafting trips, I wandered around town, toured surrounding roads, then returned that evening to belly up to the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar, a saloon where stools with saddle seats serve as seating along the bar. On weekends, ranchers who sowed their wild oats here 50 years ago come back, their faces filled with more character than you'd find in a dozen Louis L'Amour novels.
4. Arizona Red Rocks Run, 384 miles
From the Chapel of the Holy Cross in Sedona, Ariz., I could take in an unobstructed view of rock formations known as Courthouse Butte, Bell Rock and the Two Nuns. From here, I could also see a sunset formation known as brilliantly beautiful.
Riding to the Grand Canyon via Oak Creek Canyon was a smart decision: the road twisted and turned in a lush forest setting, the ascents testing my mettle. I followed Interstate 17 north to Highway 180, a two-lane that took me on a 30-mile tour of pine forests beside Humphreys Peak, the highest point in Arizona.
At the junction of Highway 64 I turned north on a bullet-straight road through the Kaibab National Forest and into the growing village of Tusayan, outside the Grand Canyon gates.
The following day, I saw the canyon by helicopter and from the locations known as the South Rim and the Watch Tower, which was my favorite. I shot dozens of photos, but until they're enlarged to actual size, they'll never do justice to this site.
Due to distance, the ride to Zion National Park was made in two legs. The first stop was Page, on the shores of majestic Lake Powell. Highway 64 led to Highway 89 at Cameron and then through an impoverished Navajo reservation. The scenery picked up near Bitter Springs, where the overlooks were so fantastic I shut off the bike and stared at the landscape for nearly an hour.
After an evening in Page, I rode through the Vermilion Cliffs and on to the eye-popping Zion National Park. Visor up, I scanned the coral pink rocks whose fluid lines made them look as if they'd been poured from a bowl.
After spending the evening in Springdale, a friendly and clean little town near the park's south entrance, I saddled up and returned to ride copper-colored curves around switchbacks leading from the magnificent motorcycle-friendly Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel.
Paradise.
-- Mount Dora resident Gary McKechnie is the author of "Great American Motorcycle Tours" (Avalon Publishing, $21.95). You can reach him at planetelvis@yahoo.com.