Joey and I went to Ohio for lunch yesterday.
OK, so technically we ate lunch on the West Virginia side of the WV/OH border, but as soon as we finished lunch we hopped over the Ohio River so we could say we went to Ohio for the day. Close enough for jazz.
Blue approaching the bridge into Ohio:
Closer:
Crossing the Ohio River:
And into Ohio!
I had originally thought of the bustling metropolis (heh -- maybe about 50 years ago) of New Martinsville, WV, as a destination for a long and hard ride -- today's total mileage was 580 miles -- about five years ago based on an interesting article in the New York Times Magazine:
http://www.nytimes.com/2004/10/17/magazine/17WESTVIR.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=barista%27s%20new%20martinsville&st=cseCLIFF NOTES: the writer, who lives part-time in New Martinsville, wondered why people choose the eating establishments they do, so she compared Barista's -- a funky cafe/coffee house/pub with good homemade food operated by a local -- to Bob Evans, one of the most popular restaurants in the area operated by a faceless corporation. Her conclusion: some people want to explore and try new things, while others demand something familiar and don't want to be challenged by new experiences; ne'er the twain shall meet. Interesting article: it won a number of prizes for best food writing in 2004.
Anyway, Barista's sounded just like my kind of place, especially since it could only be reached by traveling across West Virginia. A great destination for a motorcycle ride!
In fact, McGyver, DNA, HOVMaven, and I had tried to do this exact trip a few years ago. I had planned the route and everything, but then I decided to check Barista's website, and -- sure enough -- they are closed Sundays. So that ride ended up being a jaunt to Morgantown for lunch at another funky place called the Purple Moose. I think the ride report for that one died with the old ST-N board, alas.
Anyways, I had hoped to make a pilgrimage to Barista's this weekend, but scheduling limited us to another Sunday ride. But the roads to New Martinsville looked sufficiently tempting to make it our destination regardless.
Downtown New Martinsville:
The restaurant we finally ended up patronizing:
Arriving and degearing:
So upon entering into the restaurant, which was quite crowded, we realized that we would be bringing the average age down by about 40 years or so. Blue plate special? More like a blue hair special! Even so, it was a true West Virginia lunch buffet -- all the meat was either fried or in a cream sauce, and all the vegetables were boiled so long and hard they could hardly keep their shape on the plate. But after close to 300 miles of riding, it tasted mighty good!
Anyway. Enough about lunch. On to the ride.
This was our route out:
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And this was our route back (rougly):
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We met just a bit after 6:30 at the Temple (natch), and fueled ourselves with the obligatory coffee and doughnuts. Joey tried to persuade me he was being healthy by buying a banana, too, but I wasn't believing him....
Around 7:15 we headed straight out 50, and other than a quick detour or two, stayed on it most of the way across West Virginny. I keep forgetting how far it is to hit the first real twisties going up into the mountains -- about 120 miles. I led at a comfortable pace for me, likely making Joey feel as if Grandpa were in the lead (he's a faster rider than I am -- I admit it, and have no problem with it).
The main thing we realized as we got going was that it was cold! Damned cold! I had planned on it being a hot day, but didn't plan on it being a cool morning. So while I had my 'Stich completely sealed up and my heated grips on high, on my completely naked bike I still found myself with my teeth chattering uncontrollably for quite some time! Joey has a small fairing on his bike, but he was wearing mesh gear and found the same problem. I think it was about 9:30 before I finally began to feel a little more comfortable -- but being cold means tensing your muscles, so I got tired quickly.
Up and through the twisties with no problems, except a realization that I'm quite rusty. One small slip on a tar snake, but other than a brief pucker, no problem.
Then onto 50. What a great road! Lots of great sweepers with a bunch of technical twisties thrown in for variety's sake! While traffic can often be heavy since it's one of the few major roads to cross the state, today it was remarkably light.
First break for gas after about 165 miles, and Joey's camera, which he had been using to get some action shots, shows "ERR 99" on its display and completely craps out. I gave him my point-and-shoot and he continued with his duties.
Obligatory gas station pics:
We continued across 50 and picked up 279, which took us to 20 straight into New Martinsville. We went right past a nuclear power plant (who knew?) right after we branched off 50.
The roads to New Martinsville were really nice. Not terribly technical, like the uber-twisties found in stretches of 33 and 50, but lots of sweepers and curves that aren't tight enough to be "twisty" but are too tight to be "sweepers." Lots of curves marked between 25 and 35 miles per hour.
And with that, a note about riding in West Virginia. While I generally love it, I really don't like blind corners and almost every right-hand corner on this ride was blind. I have a hard time judging appropriate entry speed, so I usually err on the low side, and then power out. In the last third of the ride Joey took the lead and was much more comfortable going in hotter than I was so I simply followed him, because as long as I don't see a cloud of dust and flying parts, then I figure he's made it through. The higher pace really was quite a lot of fun.
But that bit me twice. Once when I retook the lead, I saw a blind right-hand curve coming up and the warning sign didn't have a speed attached to it, so I went in confident it would open into a nice sweeper -- nope! It was a tight one! Dragged my footpeg on that one, gritting my teeth all the way through. But the one that really scared me was another blind right-hander marked 25mph. I followed Joey into it quickly, and wouldn't you know, we had just been through another curve marked 25 that we easily did at 45 (and could have done much faster). This time, however, 25 was generous -- the curve tightened up, big time!
I think this was the first time I have ever REALLY blown a corner, including crossing the yellow line -- into oncoming traffic. I think that full-sized black Ford pickup had to do some evasive maneuvers before I slammed the bike over as hard as I could and yanked it back into my lane. My (very brief) thought process at the time was "if I'm going to hit that truck, I'm gonna slide into it sideways with no lean angle left."
Or something like that.
Fortunately, as soon as I crossed the yellow I pulled it back, the truck went to the outside of his lane, and the only casualty was my shorts. And pride.
Going at a slightly reduced pace, thereafter, I saw something in the road and signaled to Joey I wanted to turn around.
Yep. There was turtle in the road. I rescued it.
We arrived in New Martinsville shortly thereafter, around 12:30, with no more scares -- either to me or to small reptiles (amphibians if it was a tortoise -- I didn't look that closely).
Since it was approaching 2 by the time we left, and we wanted to be back before dark, we decided to take a faster route. The GPS plotted an interesting and surprisingly obscure route out of town. We went up a little road and onto an even littler road that would have optimistically been termed a goat path had it not been paved. A narrow one-lane road, it went right along a very sharply defined ridge which made for some beautiful vistas. The pavement wasn't in the best shape and it was so narrow that we really had to tiptoe through it quite carefully.
See how the hill drops off sharply to the right? It does the same on the left, just behind the house. And it goes along like that for a few miles. Pretty cool.
It eventually dumped us onto route 7 -- another lovely road full of tight sweepers -- until we hit Morgantown and picked up I-68. I-68 may be an interstate, but as interstates go it's mighty nice.
Even so, they get boring. So after about 100 miles Joey said "I'm sick of this. Let's try 40 scenic." So we did. It wended its way all along I-68, but was much more interesting. Not to mention slower. And rather poorly signed, if I may say so myself. Glad I had my GPS with me to clarify things.
We picked up 522 into Berkeley Springs, WV, and took that south to 7. By that time we really wanted nothing more than to get home, so that's what we did. I rolled in just after 7:30, just over 13 hours after I had left.
580 miles, four gas stops, two roadside pee breaks (Joey's), a mediocre lunch, a broken camera, a saved turtle (tortoise?), lots of good roads, and good company. Wish more of you could have made it.
