In just over 30 hours, I rode my motorcycle 530 miles. Those miles took me to Tennessee, West Virginia, and parts of Virginia I’ve never seen. We powered through a hail storm and rode ourselves dry over 100+ miles. I had a bear run out in front of me, and I almost became a hood ornament on a Toyota Tacoma in a blind curve. I successfully survived a steep rutted hill climb and a section of trail made out of 57 stone. I dropped my BMW twice, though ironically not during any of our technical maneuvering (at a drink break and a stoplight). We camped under the stars and ate lunch during a Dirty Dancing convention at the place where the movie was filmed. We traversed dirt roads, gravel slopes, single-lane asphalt, rural byways, divided highways, and I-81. And all of those paths led us to an indelible adventure.
I just returned from a trip to the southern terminus of the Mid-Atlantic Backcountry Discovery Route. We drove to both accepted starting points, including this waterfall just inside the Tennessee border.
Dave Kountz got me into motorcycle life so that I could join him on trips like this. Part of me wants to thank him. At moments over the past two days, gratitude wasn’t my primary emotion. Haha. David Hartman added more great coaching, empathy, and encouragement—not to mention incredible stories from his amazing life. These guys pulled me through some intimidating stretches of road with kindness and their example.
8 hours into the trip, we were getting motivated to find a place to sleep. Dave spotted this patch of grass next to a fire road. We didn’t use the haphazard fire pit someone else had left. Instead, we stared up at the stars from the darkness wilderness offers. 9 hours later, we quickly broke camp, loaded our bikes, and chased the goal of a warm breakfast (which we never caught).
We rode for an hour in this valley fog after we dropped elevation. Wisps of fog decorated the valleys and hollows we traversed for hours after dawn. It turned farms and riverside roads into enchanted places.
We didn’t know how far we’d get on our second day, and we let plans be fluid. That meant consulting maps and GPS at major intersections to gauge our progress. I let the Daves handle all of that.
You want engineers doing navigation work. Trust me.
I survived! I had one goal all weekend: don’t wreck. That was a challenge on some technical trails, especially on hill climbs and steep descents. My last MABDR ride ended with my MCL and my knee not attached and 100 miles of excruciating pain as I returned home from where I wrecked. It took 7 months to get back to where I was physically before my injury. I’ve got some bumps and bruises, but I’m safely home. Whew!
One of the most technical sections of our ride this weekend was getting to the top of this mountain in Union, WV. Dave grew up here. His lovely 85-year-old mom still lives (and works as a tax preparer) here, and we had a fun chat before descending the steep road back to civilization. I snapped this while he and David discussed what it would take for Dave to land his ultralight here.
Capped off my 530-mile trek with a run to Tropical Smoothie Cafe. I dropped my bike at a stoplight on the way there and somehow managed to get it back up on two wheels and mounted from the wrong side before the light turned green. I was so embarrassed and then quite relieved.
