In Search of a Bridge
Ray Hinman
GWRRA #148598
I read about the New RiverGorgeBridge in Red Rider Magazine. At least that is where I think I first read about it. It really didn’t register much with me, as the bridge is somewhere in West Virginia and I am in Southwest Georgia. A little far for a day trip and still far off, even for a weekend trip.
Over the years I have made several three day jaunts to places unknown (unknown, because I had no plan of where I was headed). A short ride to the Roanoke area and southern West Virginia (2500 miles) I didn’t know about the bridge then, a trip to North Georgia and North Carolina to see the sights (1400 miles), Key West by way of the east coast of Florida, and home on the west side (1500 miles). This time I had a plan, because I rode to Miami to help Georgia Chapter H get the Region Plaque (we did not get it, but that is another story).
In late February I ordered a Bushtec trailer, which was to be ready around the first of April. If I ride to Jacksboro Tennessee and pick up my trailer on Friday, that will leave me with a good part of the day to do something. This is where “The Bridge” first became part of my thoughts. What bridge? Where is it? Is it worth seeing? I needed answers to these questions so I turned to the first place I could think of, and that was the GL1800 board ( Wow did I get a lot of info. Along with lots of people telling me about it, and I was introduced to this website about the bridge .
I still am not sure about my fascination with a steel structure in West Virginia. But now it was becoming clear to me, I had to go to see this bridge. Of Course I am sure it is becoming clear to you also, well maybe not. Me either. Okay, it was a destination, a reason for riding my bike(like I really need a reason to ride my bike). Ever since I threw my leg over this GL1800, I have a hard time getting off.
So now the plan was to go to Bushtec, pick up my trailer, and take off for West Virginia. Sounds like a workable plan to me.
Thursday April 8, 2004
I left from the house at 11am with my sights set on being in the area of Bushtec that evening. It sure does look like it is gonna rain. I got to the intersection of I-185 and I-85, really looks dark due north of me. No problem, I am about to turn Northeast on I-85, I should be able to skirt along the edge of the rain and miss it. I keep getting closer and it keeps getting darker and darker. I realize I am not going to miss it. Just as my front tire hits I-85 the bottom drops out. Of course I don’t have a rain suit on so all I could do is duck behind the windshield and try to stay dry.
Cars are pulling off the side of the road it is raining so hard. If I stop now, I will get completely drenched so I keep on moving as fast as traffic will let me. We are down to 55 now, but still moving. The rain is getting my back and arms wet, but it is bearable. After about 10 miles, the rain stops. I keep going till I get to Newnan, where I stop for gas for the bike and chicken sandwich for me.
When I leave, I don’t take any chances, out come the Frogg Toggs. The rain ain’t gonna get me again. I motor straight through Atlanta in the HOV lane. (Did you know that motorcycles qualify to ride in the HOV lane? Well, they do). By the time I hit the Marietta area, the rain is gone, and the sun is out, and I am burning up. I have got to find a spot to take off these extra clothes. Ah, a rest area just ahead. Off comes the rain suit and jacket. What a beautiful day for a ride.
I arrived in Jacksboro around 6:30 pm, got a motel, and called my wife to let her know I got there okay. The little woman worries about me. Now, so that I am prepared in the morning, I put Bushtec’s address into my GPS and set out to find the plant. I don’t want to make too many wrong turns come morning.
My GPS is a liar. There is no Bushtec plant where it said it was.
Plan B: Get out the instructions sent by Bushtec and follow them. Do you know how hard that is for a guy? I almost wasn’t going to admit that I had to follow directions, and for sure I will never admit it if I have to ask for directions. Only Wimps and women ask for directions.
I am never lost; I’m just exploring a new road.
Friday April 9, 2004
I eat a little breakfast, and head out to Bushtec. I wanted to be sure to arrive early in case there were other people there. Dang!! I am right behind two other bikers (Harley and Harley look-a-like), and they are heading for the same place I was, so much for being there first. It turns out to be two guys from Atlanta. The Harley is getting a new trailer.
I had a bag on my trunk rack, another bag on my backseat, and my hitch mounted cooler, and every saddle bag stuffed full (after all I am going to have a trailer to haul it all back). I took everything but the kitchen sink. I would have taken it too, but I figured my lovely wife might need to wash dishes before I got home. Here’s where she says … “NOT”.
They got my lights hooked up, trailer attached and all of my STUFF loaded in the trailer. They even put my drinks in my new cooler. We got a tour of the plant from AllenPreston and short lesson on how to operate the trailer. While Allen was showing us on my trailer, he opened the trailer, and it was over half full of my junk. The guys who drove up just ahead of me took one look at all the stuff, and said, “How’d you get all that up here?” I didn’t have the heart to tell them I hadn’t unloaded the saddle bags yet.
I kept trying to rush them through everything because it was getting to be 10:30, and I had a bridge to see. By 11:00am I am on the road again, but at a leisurely pace along back roads heading for West Virginia. I am in Virginia when I start to look a little closer at my GPS. I should arrive in FayettevilleWV around 6:00pm. This is not going to give me much time to explore the bridge.
I have to be home Saturday night. I guess the bridge is out, so I turn south and head for the mountains around Asheville and just enjoy the ride. A day later I am home. 1600 miles and “NO BRIDGE”.
A Bridge Too Far?
Planning time again Let’s see. The Tennessee Rally is coming up April 23 and 24. I am not scheduled to work that Saturday, so I can go to the rally on Friday and to the bridge on Saturday. Wow we have another plan. Somehow this one is going to work. We finally expand this trip to include leaving Thursday afternoon; after all it is only 6 hour ride. I will go straight up I-75 to just south of Knoxville and drop down to Sevierville (just north of Pigeon Forge) where I have reservations at the local Hampton Inn. Now how much easier could it be? I stayed at Sevierville because the rooms were less expensive than they are in Pigeon Forge. I’m not a tightwad; I am thrifty(my wife says I am cheap). Normally I stay in some pretty inexpensive motels (these are the ones that when you turn on the lights you expect to see creatures running for cover), but now I have moved up to the big time, Hampton Inn. Actually my wife joined Hilton Honors and I get discounts and free rooms. I am thrifty, remember?
Thursday April 22, 2004
It is a beautiful day for a ride. Short sleeves and an abundance of sunshine. Everything is going fine, and I am ahead of schedule. I decide that instead of going all the way on I-75, I am going to ride 411. This road is a little more laid back, and I did not have a schedule to keep, only that I need to be in Sevierville tonight. Beautiful countryside and great views were everywhere. I stopped somewhere in Tennessee just this side of Maryville, to eat at an Applebee’s on I-75 north of 411 (don’t know the exact location). The beauty of having a GPS is that you can find almost anything you want; in this case I wanted an Applebee’s. Dial in the name, and voila it gives me directions to the nearest Applebee’s.
Maps? I don’t need no stinking Maps.
I was sitting there and I began talking to a guy seated at my right. I asked him where he was from, and he replied “Just up the road a piece in “Meravall”. I told him I don’t remember seeing that on the map and he said “yeah, just drop down to highway 411, go north and you will run into Meravall”. It finally dawned on me, ‘Oh Maryville’. See, I’m not as dumb as you think, even us south Georgia boy’s can figure things out.
When traveling in foreign states, bring an English language translator.
FridayApril 23, 2004
I went to Tennessee rally long enough to get some goodies from the vendors, after all that is what I came for. Now the rest of the day is spent riding the mountains. I am going to do the real tourist type trip. I am going to ride the Foothills Parkway, Cherohala Skyway, and Great Smoky Mountains Parkway (GSP). I bypassed the dragon. I’ve done that a few times and don’t see the fun in it. There are too many other roads to ride that are more fun.
After coming off the Cherohala Skyway, I went through Cherokee to get to the GSP. The town was over-run with Harleys and their second cousins from Honda, Yamaha, and etc. The town was absolutely covered in black, chrome, and leather. I even almost got tempted to stop for a bike wash at the “Babes in Bikini BikeWash” in one of the motel parking lots. It was a whole bunch of bikini clad girls washing bikes for $15.00 each. They appeared to be doing a landmark business.
I decided the group there might not appreciate having a good looking GL1800 amongst them, so I didn’t stop. They really probably wouldn’t have cared. They were all gathered around the bike wash in folding chairs working on their favorite beverage enjoying the view. But if I stop, I might have to wait in line and spend some time, so on I went.
If you ain’t moving, you ain’t riding. If you ain’t riding, you ain’t having fun.
[Ray’s Truism #74]
I continued on through the park stopping to take lots of pictures (See WOW a little further down) and then headed back to the motel by way of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge. The town of Gatlinburg was shoulder to shoulder with tourists, and I’m sure not going to stop here. I’ve got to get a good night sleep, I’m going to “The Bridge” in the morning.
Saturday April 24, 2004
The plan was to eat breakfast, check out, go to the bridge, and be in HendersonvilleNorth Carolinaon Saturday night. I’ve got to be in Wrens Georgia (near Augusta ) around noon time on Sunday for an annual Family Reunion on my Wife’s side.
I’m on the road at 7:00amheading up I-81 to I-77. At first, I had decided not to take I-77 north because it is a toll road, but finally went that way to save time. Cost a great big $1.75 in tolls. I am tooling along on I-77 when I look up and there is a mountain ridge in front of me. Not just a mountain, a whole ridge as big as a mountain. It stretched as far as I could see both east and west. I couldn’t see where the road went over the ridge, and it did not look like it turned and ran parallel with the ridge. My confusion ceased when I rounded a curve, and there was a tunnel through the mountain. This is a spectacular site to a lowly flatlander like me.
There are actually two impressive tunnels along this stretch of road. Both are the longest tunnels I have ever been in. Let’s stop here and say, please don’t get me started looking for longer tunnels to ride through, I still haven’t made it to the bridge.
I am running 75 mph along I-77 just south of Beckley around 10:00am, and it is cold to me. I have on a heavy leather coat, leather chaps, and heavy gloves and I am still feeling the cold. Just ahead of me I spy another biker, riding at a more respectful speed, and I was gaining on him fast. It turned out to be an older model Goldwing 1200, but what was most amazing was the guy had on shorts. I am freezing and he has on shorts. I really came close to slowing down to take his picture, but decided not to look like an idiot, and to keep going. Let’s be careful with the idiot comments out there.
I have arrived. I passed over the bridge almost before I knew it. I went to the visitor center, picked up a brochure, and while I was there, the ranger was telling someone about a road that goes down under the bridge. I got him to tell me about it and assure me that it was passable on a motorcycle. I was assured, and headed out to see the bridge.
As I exited the visitor center, what did I see, but the guy I had passed on I-77 walking away from his bike headed towards me. All I could think of to say was “Shorts! Shorts!You’re wearing shorts”. He smiled and looked at me and realized right away I was the person who passed him earlier. It helped that my bike was sitting in the same parking lot. He explained that it was 85 degrees in Greenville the day before, and he had not expected it to get that cold in the mountains. When I passed him, my thermometer read 56 degrees.
I am ashamed to say that even after asking twice I still can’t remember his first name. He told me his last name was “You” pronounce “Yow”. If you ever read this, I apologize for my lousy memory. It must be all of those mind numbing miles with a heavy helmet on my head. I think he was as impressed with all the miles I have put on my bike as I was him wearing shorts.
We walked down to the viewing platform together and talked a while. He was a very nice person. Me not being one to sit idle too long, I took my customary pictures from the viewing platform of the bridge, and of the rafters in the water below. We exchanged cameras, and took pictures of each other so that we would have a picture of ourselves with the bridge behind us. This is proof that I finally made it to the Bridge.
Back on the bike and down the narrow road to the bottom. To say the road is small is really being generous. The whole road is no larger than one normal lane on a regular country road. There is no way that two vehicles could pass safely on that road. That is probably why it is a one way road. I took lots of pictures on the road, pictures standing just under the bridge, and pictures of the bridge from every angle. If I don’t do anything else, I take tons of digital pictures. I keep a digital camera in the right pocket on the dash, and as I am riding down the road, I take pictures. I take pictures of the road, pictures of barns, pictures of animals, even pictures of towns. I don’t stop; I just keep moving and taking pictures. If I look up and say “WOW” I take a picture of it. I see a lot of “WOWs”, thus I take a lot of pictures.
I am finally at the bottom along the river. It is not a large river, but the rapids are beautiful. I get off my bike and take some pictures of the rapids, and now I am ready to head on. Remember, I don’t sit still well. I guess I have a bad case of wanderlust.
I am ready to leave when I notice one of the bus drivers sitting waiting for his next load of rafters to arrive. I stop and talk for a minute and ask for directions to some scenic routes to ride to south West Virginia (if you tell anyone I asked for directions I will deny it). He offered me a couple of roads that turned out to be absolutely great. He sent me down the Highway 60 which is part of the “Midland Trail”.
While talking to him another driver pulled up and got out. As we were talking they were telling me that they have to come down to the bottom on the same road as I had just come on. This was hard for me to believe. Remember, I have the pictures of the road. The second guy said he was not sure the first time he made the descent, but said “If others could do it, so could he”. They continued to tell me how bad it was for at least 10 minutes, when a third bus pulled up. The first guy said to the second, “Well, we kept him too long”. The second asked why and the first one said “Cause we’ve been telling him how hard it is to get the bus down here and now one of the women drivers have arrived”.
To try to write about how fantastic the views were is almost impossible. The trip down, looking at the bridge from every angle, and the trip up the other side along some of the most beautiful waterfalls and creeks I have ever seen. I am not sure you would call it a creek, or just water run off, but it cascaded down all kinds of drops creating waterfalls. I had to stop three or four times and take pictures on the trip back up (See WOW above).
The trip along the Midland Trail was really not that exciting to start off with. But then I was in the mountains again, and finally the road comes back and runs right along the New river. Now this is the way to ride, mountains on one side, New River on the other. Almost constant rapids in the river make every view spectacular.