ARKansas - June 2015

[emptysea]

Day 5: Harrison to....

17 June 2015

We woke early because we wanted to pack as much riding into our last full day in Harrison as possible. The Pig Trail section of AR23 was on the agenda and we thought we might hit 74 and 7 on our way there. None of this was decided firmly because the threat of rain had blown up Glen's planned routes. We'd discuss the day's ride at breakfast.

Glen and I passed in the lobby; me on my way to breakfast and he on his way to prep his bike for the day.

"Have you checked the weather?"
"Yep"
"We should talk about our schedule"
"Yep"

Bill had made more headway overnight than had been predicted and it was likely that Harrison was going to get pounded within the the next 24 hours. Pounded hard enough that, if we stayed another day, it was extremely likely that we would be stuck in the hotel in conditions too dangerous for riding for possibly two days. Moreover, Bill was tracking along the exact path we would want to follow to get back home. Decisions needed to be made.

"Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
And if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know" - from The Clash's 1982 hit "Should I Stay or Should I Go?"

A few more looks at our various choices in weather apps and the decision to go was plainly obvious. Glen and I, after a brief discussion with the others, informed the nice woman at the Seville's front desk that we planned on leaving as soon as possible. She was very understanding, especially considering that they were losing four rooms for three nights, and wished us safe travels.

Safe travels, yes, but to where?

Our group was gathered at a round table in the dining area of the hotel. They have an excellent breakfast buffet there, although my appetite was a little squelched by the prospect of a shortened and possibly rainy remainder of our trip.

"We have to put some distance between us and Bill."
"Yep"
"We could head back to St. Louis and then either home or north along the river."
"Three hundred mile day. I don't mind the distance, but maybe someplace more north than east. I think east will just mean being wet tomorrow. North seems to be the play."
"How far north?"
"250 maybe?"

While the rest of us packed our gear and prepped our bikes, Laura tasked herself with juggling our itinerary, finding an overnight spot 250 miles to our north while seeing if we could still ride some of the Great River Road and visit the Mormon town of Navuoo, IL, perched piously on a bluff overlooking the Mississippi.

Meanwhile, Glen was planning and plotting and generally trying to come up with an entertaining way to take all day to get 250 miles north. This was to be one of the few days without any rain in the forecast and Glen, along with the rest of us, wanted to take full advantage of it.

In our group, there's a phrase, sometimes used pejoratively and sometimes used enthusiastically, "going east to go west". Pejoratively when the ride went too long and the circuitous route was either unplanned or uninspired. Enthusiastically when the roundabout ride was taking us to a special destination or over a special stretch of road, or both.

"If we hadn't spent so much time going east to go west, we wouldn't have hit that rain"

"Tomorrow we're headed from Robbinsville to Nashville via Cherohala. An awesome east to go west day!"

Never mind that the indirect route may be going south to go north or west to go east, we typically just refer to any such route as going east to go west.

So, Glen was working on an "east to go west" route that would take advantage of one of the few rain-free days we had by hitting some of the roads to the south of our new destination, wherever that was, that we had planned on riding over the course of our multi-day stay in Harrison.

"How's Mexico sound?" Laura asked to no one in particular.
"Sounds like the ultimate in going east to go west"
"No, Mexico, Missouri. It's about 250 miles north of here"
"Ohhhhh, THAT Mexico! Never heard of it. Sounds perfect."

"Woh, down in Mexico, I never really been so I don't really know.
And oh, Mexico, I guess I'll have to go.
Woh, Mexico, I never really been so I don't really know.
And oh, Mexico, I guess I'll have to go now.
Talking bout Mexico. Big ol' honkey-tonk down in Mexico." -- from the James Taylor song "Mexico"

Glen, knowing our destination, proceeded to sketch out a route that would "go east to go west" to the tune of 200 miles of extracurricular riding.

We pulled our fully loaded bikes out of the underground garage and headed south on US65 to connect with some very excellent "east to go west" roads.

---Day 5 to be continued----

[Cormanus]

The suspense is killing me

[emptysea]

Day 5 - Continued -

Our riding group seldom has a formal pre-ride meeting anymore, unless "Should I order the corned-beef hash and eggs or are we stopping for a big lunch?" counts as a ride-related inquiry and "Lunch is just a snack, but don't drink too much coffee because there won't be a comfort break for another hour and a half" counts as a proper response. Our meeting, if you want to call it that, is usually just an overview of the route, the riding order, and the time and distance until our next stop. Sharing well over 5,000 road miles together means that we are all on the same page regarding hand signals, following distance, intersection protocol, and the like.

When we're on the "Let's Get There" portions of a trip, the riding order is not particularly important because the goal is keeping everyone together from point A to point B. Generally, deference is given to the prettiest of our motorcylists and Cheryl and Laura usually opt for the even-numbered positions in line. Either Glen or I usually take the sweeper position. The leader is typically, but not always, the rider who planned the route for the trip, so Glen was #1 for most legs of the Arkansas adventure. Glen and I work very well together as leader and sweep, but the truth is that everyone in our group is experienced enough and has the right demeanor to ride first or last. The confidence we have in one another allows us to mix up the order when we hit the "Let's Have Some Fun" portions of a trip.

AR14 and AR5 were Glen's picks for the "Let's Have Some Fun" leg of our escape to Mexico. We rode the short distance from Harrison to AR14 as one group with Glen #1 and, if I recall, me as sweeper. A quick stop on the shoulder (again, as memory serves) and Glen, Mike G., and I moved to the front of the line. Laura, Cheryl and Mike/Judy decided to bring up the rear.

"We'll wait for you at where 14 meets 27"
"Have fun and don't be too stupid"

And off we went, separating into two groups of three within just a few hundred feet.

Our morning "east to go west" route
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The weather was cooperating; it was still early in the day so the heat had not had a fair chance to flex its muscle and this was to be a full riding day without a drop of rain.

AR14 was easily my favorite stretch of road on the entire trip. The roadbed was smooth for the most part, with relatively few crossroads, and loaded with curves and elevation changes. We even had two old guys wave to us from their chairs on their front porch. The turns set up perfectly for my eye, but the thing I remember most was watching Glen dance with his big BMW just ahead of me. Not only was it fun to watch him really get into a rhythm, but he was feeding me information about what was ahead by how he handled each turn. On this day, on this road, I was able to process the information Glen and the road were giving me and translate it into smooth entrances and exits. Getting my chin (somewhat) over my wrists. Getting my butt (somewhat) off and to the side of my seat. I feel that I rode AR14 as well, better even, than I have ever ridden. It will forever be etched in my mind as will the song that was beating through my Bluetooth headphones in perfect synchronization with my movements...

You got me beggin' you for mercy
Why won't you release me
You got me beggin' you for mercy
Why won't you release me
I said you better release me "Mercy" by Duffy (the lyrics are irrelevant to this post, but I don't know how to type out a rhythm)

I have deliberately avoided calculating how much further ahead of Group 2 we were when we arrived at Crockett's Country Store & Canoe Rental because I don't want the authorities (and by that, I mean Cheryl) to know how fast we may have been going. She probably has some inkling though...

"Did you see that big turtle that was crossing the road?"
"Yeah. On the right shoulder, right?"
"No, it was on the left side when we passed it."

We arrived at Crockett's, which I don't think any of us knew existed. Glen parked his bike near the road so the others could see it as they rounded the last turn before the intersection. We shed some gear and I walked over to Glen and shook his hand which turned into a man-hug to show my appreciation for everything about this morning; the weather, the road, his riding, my riding, Mike's riding, the turtle, the old men, everything.

Our brief stop at Crockett's Country Store & Canoe Rental. Conveniently located in the middle of nowhere.
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Group 1 took off again on 14 for several more wonder-filled miles until we intersected with AR5, waiting for Group 2 before turning north on 5 toward our destination for the night.

I recall that we became a single group again on AR5. A very nice road, also, but not the same as AR14. The only thing I remember about our ride on it, and this may have actually happened someplace else, was passing a guy on a bicycle laden with two huge panniers and God knows what other luggage and gear, struggling mightily to get up a hill. S-turning his way up the hill, going so slow that he was defying the laws of physics by remaining anywhere close to upright. We gave him wide berth.

The town of Mountain Home seemed like a good spot to stop for lunch, so after gassing up on the outskirts of town, we headed uptown. The town's name was the only thing quaint about it. Pretty industrial. I think Glen mentioned something about the Ranger boat factory was or is located there.

I don't know if Judy checked Trip Advisor for this place or not, but Da Back Yard was the perfect spot for lunch. The name is an homage to the unique dialect of my hometown of Chicago. They served Chicago-style hotdogs, Chicago-style Italian beef sandwiches, and burgers with Chicago-themed names. The food was good, the restaurant a little grimy, and the young men running the place were affable and very found of all things Chicago, especially visitors from there. Google tells me that they are no longer in business which is a shame.

Lunch finished, we headed out back to use the restrooms. Yes, you had to go around back. I think Da Back Yard was once Da gas station. Then, it was back on the bikes and to continue our northbound attempt to stay ahead of the storms.

Not much worthy of note on our way to Mexico. I vaguely recall riding along a lake with very neat looking fishing/vacation resorts along both sides of the road, but I can't seem to figure out where that was and I haven't confirmed with Glen what our exact route was from Mountain Home to Mexico. I know that we stopped at the same gas station on US54 in Jefferson City that we stopped at on the way down. I remember that the Best Western, Teal Lake (apparently a suburb of Mexico) was mercifully close to the exit off US54. I remember learning that we would have to ride a few miles into town for dinner which we did almost immediately after check-in. We had ridden nearly 400 miles, 200+ of it in high heat and humidity.

North to Mexico (route may not be entirely accurate)
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Meyer lemon
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Citrus × meyeri, the Meyer lemon, is a citrus fruit native to China thought to be a cross between a true lemon and either a mandarin or common orange. It was introduced to the United States in 1908 as S.P.I. #23028 by the agricultural explorer Frank Nicholas Meyer, an employee of the United States Department of Agriculture who collected a sample of the plant on a trip to China.
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Surprisingly enough, Mexico, Missouri is a nice looking little town with a lovely town square. We rode around this square once in search of a restaurant named "Andrea C" which was either recommended by the clerk at the Best Western or by Trip Advisor, possibly both.

We had the address to Andrea C, but because we were at the town center, it was difficult for us to figure out how the numbers ran. After one pass, Glen or possibly Mike G., stopped to ask a local fella who was sitting out in front of a store overlooking the square. I had my helmet on, so didn't hear everything, but I could tell that our new friend had not the faintest clue where the Andrea C was located. Just about the time that people started referring to their cell phones for directions, I noticed a small sign on a building across the square and down a few buildings from it. I ventured forth on a scouting run and lo and behold, I found the place! I returned to the group, gathered them up, and lead them the 1/2 a block to the restaurant. We parked directly in front of the restaurant and if you turned to look back across the square, you could plainly see the local fella sitting in front of the store. How on Earth he didn't know where the only restaurant in the vicinity was located when it was right in front of his face still baffles.

So, we get a nice table in a nearly empty restaurant. Our young waitress comes by to take drink orders. We decided that if we ordered a cocktail, just one, before dinner, we would not leave the restaurant for at least an hour afterward. So I, naturally, inquired about their gin selection and she, naturally, had to check at the bar.

"We have Bombay Sapphire"
"Great!"
"But we only have enough for one drink"

I may have the timeline slightly askew here, but I believe it was at this point that Mike G. asked the now legendary question:

"Do you have Meyer Lemons?"
"What?" responded our server.
"What?" responded the rest of us.
"I don't think so" replied the server.

Now, I am not fluent in Waitress, but my translation of "I don't think so." comes out something like "I don't know what the hell Meyer lemons are and what's more, I don't know why in the hell you would ask if a tiny restaurant in a small town in the middle of Missouri has Meyer*F-in*Lemons".

Oddly, no one asked Mike why he wanted Meyer lemons at that particular moment in time. At the time, we just laughed at why would even bother to inquire. I finally asked him in February about why he wanted the lemons and by then he had forgotten.

Since he was shut out on the Meyer lemon front, I offered him the last 1.5 ounces of gin and that I would have a beer. That worked out well and the food was delicious and in large quantities.

Andrea C (I regret not taking the picture from such an angle to show our uniformed friend sitting across the square from us. Mike may very well have been looking at the guy in this picture, wondering how in heck...)

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End of Day 5

[emptysea]

Day 6 Mexico, Mo to Davenport, IA

Ol' Mississippi, she's callin' my name
Catfish are jumpin'
That paddle wheel thumpin'
Black water keeps rollin' on past just the same -- From the Doobie Brothers' song "Black Water"

OK..where was I? Oh yeah, in Mexico.

At some point, and I don't recall exactly when, we decided that following the Mississippi might be a fun way to head north. Laura had arranged for overnights in Davenport, IA, Fennimore, WI, and Savanna, IL. She and Glen had come up with a few points of interest at which to stop along the way and, by the time we would make our east across Illinois to our homes on Sunday, we should have dodged the foul weather that would pass below us on it's eastward path. That last part didn't exactly work out, but we'll get to that in due course.

Glen asked me to create a route from Mexico to Nauvoo, IL. I saw a Missouri county road that looked interesting, so I plotted a route to take J to US54 to MO79 in Louisiana, MO and then ride along the river through Hannibal. We'd pick up US61 on the north end of Hannibal and then kick it up to our lunch stop in and tour of the Mormon town of Nauvoo, IL

We headed out and J was reminiscent of the "alphabet" county road in Wisconsin--flat farm fields, not much traffic, a few curves. Most of the fields were waterlogged from the past month or more of excessive rain.

A couple of maps in absence of photos (camera never recovered from the first big rainstorm of the trip)

County Highway J
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US54/US61
[url=http://s1318.photobucket.com/user/emptysea43/media/Ozark%20Mountain%20Daredevils/frankford%20mo_zpsivhcgx22.jpg.html]

As I recall it, the weather looked threatening dead ahead of us, so I turned north on US61 to keep ahead or astride of the rain. I'm still disappointed about being forced of track because 79 from Louisiana, MO north to Hannibal looks like pretty good on a map.

After I turned our caravan off of eastbound US54 on to northbound US61, I had that nagging feeling that I had turned the wrong way. You know the feeling, right? A slightly elevated heart rate. That warm then hot feeling on the back of your neck. The odd and counter-intuitive urge to speed up. Yeah, I had all that. I really hate when I make wrong turns, but particularly so when we have time and/or distance requirements for the day. We had a 300 mile day with a 2+ hour stopover in the middle of it, so I was feeling a little flustered at my apparent mistake. Oddly enough, I am never bothered when following someone who makes a wrong turn; I realize that it is just part of what happens when you are not following the Google-prescribed path.

US61 is a 4 lane, limited access highway in this area and it turns out that the next real exit after I began to worry that we were going the wrong way was over 10 warm-necked miles away. As each mile ticked by, I did the automatic doubling exercise in time and distance:

"Well that's 2 miles and 2 minutes."

Then a mile later,
"4 miles and 4 minutes..that's assuming we average 60, which we won't so more like 5 minutes"

"Where's the flippin' exit?? 6 miles and 10 minutes off track now. Damn my neck is hot. Do they know that I'm lost? There's not even a shoulder to pull off on. Who designs a road with out shoulders anyway? Freakin idiots".

"8 miles. ugh."

All this angst and I was on the right road and going in the right direction all along. US61 does go north, but the section we were on was clocking more to the west. I knew that we were going west and I knew the Mississippi was to our east. Thus, we were going the wrong way. However, the Mississippi does not flow perfectly north to south and the river was actually running roughly parallel to US61. By Hannibal, the river bends to the west and 61 bends to the east and the two thoroughfares essentially meet. Of course, I would not know any of this until I pulled off at Frankford.

The problem with the Frankford exit off of US61 is that it takes you into Frankford. After a half mile of so of riding down the appropriately named Low Street, a cracked and overly-crowned stretch of road past run-down houses and mobile homes, we turned right on Main Street into the heart of this bustling metropolis. I pulled our line of bikes off to the side of the street to get my bearings. Just ahead was The Wagon Wheel Cafe which obviously had not opened for business for the day as of yet.

They're probably only open for lunch and dinner.
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Why did he stop here?
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Once I realized where we were, we retraced our path to US61 and continued north into Hannibal. We re-fueled there and worked our way through the town without stopping. We did not have time to stop here this time since our goal was Nauvoo for lunch, but I think Hannibal is a town worthy of some exploration -- How could Mark Twain's hometown not be.

Map to Hannibal
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Our next stop was Nauvoo, IL. We crossed the river into Illinois and turned north on IL96. Great road that winds along overlooking the river to the west and looking up at the lovely homes dotting the bluffs to the east.

Nauvoo is an interesting place. As far as I can tell, the vast majority of the businesses are run by Mormons and most of the residents are members of the Church of Latter Day Saints as well. We walked around the temple; by far the least welcoming house of worship I have have visited. However, the locals we met were extremely nice to us. Lots of smiles. Friendly. Clearly devout.

The downtown area looked like the downtown area of many small towns in the area. The local movie house at some point was converted to a cafeteria and we were told that the food was good. It was.

After lunch we toured the town on foot. Mike, Judy, Cheryl and I found ourselves in the LDS visitor center. Incredibly interesting with a detailed history of how the Mormons came to Nauvoo and continued on to Utah. There is a distinct bias in how they present their history, but at least there's no question about their motivations or perspectives.

Nauvoo is a pretty town with beautiful views across the Mississippi and a fascinating history. Check it out if you're in the area. Oh, and they have a nice little ice cream shop. A quick stop there, then it was back on the bikes, back down IL96, back across the river, back into Keokuk, Iowa, and back on to US61 (now joined with US218) north to Davenport, Iowa where we would bed down for the night.


Map to Nauvoo
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Downtown Nauvoo
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Lunch
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Welcome?
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Joseph and Hyrum Smith beginning their trip to Carthage, IL to, depending on one's perspective, face charges of treason and ultimately be killed by an angry mob or to face their maker and martyr themselves for the greater good of the Church.
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Heavenly view of a Roman Catholic church and a Mormon temple
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Glen has spent a lot of time in the Quad Cities (Davenport is the largest of the four) for various reasons throughout his life. He knew of a restaurant on our way into Davenport where we could have dinner. After a 300 mile riding day with quite a bit of walking tossed in for good measure, it was good to sit down and eat. I don't recall the name of the place, but it was very nice. If I figure it out, I'll amend this post. [Edit: Thunder Bay Grille is on Business 61 just east of I-80 in Davenport. They have three locations (Davenport, Rockford, IL, and Pewaukee, WI). After a leisurely dinner, it was a short and pleasant enough evening ride through the city to our hotel.]

Home for the night was the Fairfield Inn in Davenport. I believe we all slept like rocks.

End of Day 6...

[Cormanus]

I suppose The Codfather starred Marlin Brando?

I always enjoy your reports EmptySea.

[the Ferret]

Cormanus I think thats the backside of the restaurant sign and probably just coy-ly advertising a fish sandwich.

Wait: I see what you did there. Very clever!

Great stuff as always Sea.

[emptysea]

Day 7: Davenport, Iowa to Fennimore, Wisconsin


I need to laugh and when the sun is out
I've got something I can laugh about
I feel good in a special way
I'm in love and it's a sunny day. -- From the Beatles song "Good Day Sunshine"

I don't think it rained this day. In fact, if I recall, it was sunny all day long--for once. We had planned a short day of riding, but a long day of soaking up the local flavors and we were fortunate enough not to soak up any more rain.

The morning started bright and sunny and with me sitting cross-legged on the asphalt behind the Fairfield Inn, plastic table knife from the dining area in hand, scraping gum from the left rubber-coated foot peg on my wife's CTX. I used the serrated blade of the knife to score the soft pink blob and then rubbed some dirt I dug up from the nearby landscaping into the gum to try to get rid of the stickiness. I'm sure that there are more efficient ways to remove gum from a foot peg, and I'm sure that some of you are already typing your remedies, but I don't really need to know them at this point. The gum/dirt mixture, as it turned out, made a lovely non-skid surface for her feet and by the afternoon, there was no trace of Bazooka remaining.

Today's route would be the last of our northbound routes for the trip. We would head in that direction for most of the day, following the west bank of the Mississippi. The last third of the day would take us east across the river and into Wisconsin. The combination of fun roads and great stops would make this one of the best off-the-cuff day tours I've been on.

Our first hop was just a short one up US67 which is State Street in Davenport and is part of The Great River Road National Scenic Byway which links sections of road in various states on both sides of the Mississippi. Most of the Great River Road is, in fact, what most would call "scenic" with tress and bluffs and rock outcroppings. The section through Davenport is commercial and industrial, but I find that riding through industrial areas is scenic in its own way, especially if it's early enough in the morning that traffic is minimal.

We rode past the Quad Cities Convention Center, standing empty on this early Friday morning. A little further along was a huge Alcoa plant or warehouse. Beyond that, there were numerous smaller manufacturing operations, a few building contractors' offices, and some self-storage operations. All along, the river is close, but cannot be seen because the road is atop a bluff and, of course, buildings obscure the view. I definitely sensed its proximity, though.

We exited Davenport and, in very short order, we were in Le Claire, Iowa and at our first stop of the day's tour -- Antique Archeology.

For those of you who are not aware, Antique Archeology is, at its core essentially an antique shop and it and its owners are featured in the reality TV show "American Pickers". We spent about an hour here, looking at all the old cars and motorcycles, parts of old cars and motorcycles, and books about old cars and motorcycles. We also enjoyed the various pieces of Americana on display and the extensive gift shop. I don't watch "American Pickers" myself, but Antique Archeology is a worth-it stop.

Antique Archeology

There is no truth to the rumor that Ulvetanna has a stockpile of these available free to those of us in need of assistance.
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"Hey Glen...How'd they know you were 66?" (then ducking)
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Cool cool jacket.
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Wanted to steal this sign, but I didn't think it would fit in my dry bag.
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Next up was the 100 mile Le Claire to Balltown hop. Balltown is just a spit past Dubuque, Iowa and is perched pretty much atop the highest ridge in the immediate vicinity. The town has three things going for it as far as I am concerned: It is in the middle of one of the best riding sections of The Great River Road, It has a scenic overlook that really puts great emphasis on both the scenic and the overlook, and it has pie. Specifically Breitbach's Country Dining's pie.

I first heard of Breitbach's from a friend of mine who stops there on his annual "guy's fishing and camping trip". I have written about it on this forum twice before. Both times telling how we did not stop here because my brother-in-law, who was leading both rides, is not a big dessert guy. Fortunately, this crew is chock-full of dessert guys. Some of them are even girls.

The pie was great. I don't recall what variety I had, but I recall deliciousness. If you're ever even close to Balltown, stop in at Breitbach's. Also, ask if anyone sells a "Welcome to Balltown" t-shirt in XL. I'll pay you back.

Breitbach's

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After pie, we walked up the remainder of the hill to the scenic overlook. It's not a long walk, but it helped burn off a few calories. I was too dense to take a panoramic photo here. From this point, it is farm buildings and fertile farmland for as far as the eye can see with the longest river in North America and the fourth longest river in the world cutting through it.

Scenic Overlook - The Mississippi is out there; just beyond the dark green stand of trees.
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The Great River Road is called Balltown Rd. when it passes Breitbach's then changes it's name to Ridge Rd., but most riders in the area just call it by it's county highway name of C9Y. C9Y is a delightful ribbon of two-lane road with hills and turns, few crossing roads, and some terrific vistas. It's only problem is that it is far too short. Just 15 or so miles of excitement and then TGRR follows US52 and then County Hwy. X56 to US18 where we would cross the Big Muddy into Praire du Chien, Wisconsin.

Prairie du Chien is a pretty cool river town. It's one of the oldest cities in Wisconsin and has been a battle site in several wars dating back to the 1700s. We've visited before and will again, but Glen had another stopping point in mind.

Immediately south of Prairie du Chien, the Wisconsin River empties into the Mississippi. Along the south bank of the Wisconsin and the east bank of the Mississippi is the Wyalusing State Forest and State Park. Glen thought this would be a good place for a "bike and hike" stop.

Our group, more accurately, the women in our group, enjoy getting off the bikes and walking around in nature every now and again. We sometimes set up day rides specifically with a hiking destination in mind. These "bike and hikes" are generally greatly enjoyed by the women and grudgingly tolerated by the guys. Although, truth be told, the guys like these strolls more than we let on.

The entrance road was under major construction when we arrived at the park. There's a bit of a hill and there was a little consternation among some of our group as we forged ahead. The worry was for naught, though, as the trip up to the parking lot was uneventful.

The park is beautiful. Truly. There are several lookout points where you can see to the north and west. There are, or so I was told by the girls, several hiking paths in the park. I was in the mood for a cigar and so, it seemed, were the rest of guys. The ladies went on their way and we found a nice, unoccupied seating area where we spent most of our stay.

The views from the park are spectacular, perched as it is high above the confluence of these two great rivers. I really enjoyed our "bike and (non) hike" stop.

Wyalusing state park

Really didn't notice the tracks crossing in front of us until the train came. It was fascinating to watch a freight train "float" over the river.
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After seeing this picture on Facebook, my sister titled it "Motorcycle Bums"
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The last hop of the day took us from Wyalusing State Park to Fennimore, Wisconsin where we had reservations at Napp's Motel.

Laura had booked us in to this place based on Fennimore's proximity on our route back home and on Trip Advisor reviews. It was only after she booked the rooms that she learned that this was the same cheap motel I have visited on trout fishing trips to the area. Of all the cheap motels in all of Wisconsin.....

The cool part about staying at this particular motel is that we got to ride the country roads that follow the Big Green River which is my favorite trout stream in all of Southwest Wisconsin and which is neither big nor green. What it is is narrow and twisty. I guess I like my trout streams like I like my motorcycle roads.

It is important to point out that I have never caught a fish on my favorite trout stream. Fly fishing for me is not about the catching of the fish; with my fishing skills, it can't be about that. I love the solitude there. I love that I'm trout fishing in a cow pasture. I love the smell of wild mint and the calls of the red-winged blackbirds. I love trying to roll cast to an undercut bank. I'm a terrible fisherman, but I love fishing.

We followed County C until it crossed the Little Green, which is both. A left then a quick right and we were on K and riding along the Big Green. Both roads have lots of curves and K runs along a valley which makes it especially pretty. I think that everyone enjoyed this last leg of the day, but I am certain that I enjoyed it most of all.

Knapp's Motel

Not much to look at, but it's clean and affordable.
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We dined at The Silent Woman which is located inside the Fenway House Hotel. It's probably the fanciest restaurant in town. I imagine that this is where the young men take their dates before their prom. Food was good. Service was indifferent. Prices were fair. The conversation and laughter with my good friends was 5-star.

End of Day 7

[Cormanus]

Meow! But so much more too.

[emptysea]

Day 8 - Fennimore, Wisconsin to Savanna, Illinois

Our room faced east and had a little front porch that was elevated above the side road which slipped off to the south. A stand of trees blocked direct view of the sunrise, but the bright morning with its wispy white clouds was visible above the farm buildings to the south of the trees as well as in the reflections off of our motorcycles parked three steps below our perch. Looked like a good morning to ride.

Morning Glory
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Except that the sun was lying to us.



We repacked our bikes for the second-to-last time. Friederick's Family Restaurant, our breakfast spot was just a mile or so down US18, where it turns turns west again after its brief northbound jog through downtown Fennimore, and continues it's journey to the Mighty Mississip.

"...Here the fortunate ones through money or influence or luck might obtain exit visas and scurry to Lisbon, and from Lisbon to the New World. But the others wait in Casablanca, and wait and wait and wait." -- From the 1942 Academy Award-winning film Casablanca

If you find yourself looking for a great local breakfast joint in Fennimore, Wisconsin, Friederick's is your place. Standard breakfast fare, with a few specials tossed in, and very reasonably priced. Oh...and homemade pies!. My fishing buddy Andy and I have eaten here a few times, although most fishing days start before Friederick's opens. I believe they are open for lunch and dinner, but I don't recall eating anything besides breakfast there.

Speaking of not recalling things, I don't recall if the drizzle started just before we arrived for breakfast or just after we sat down. I do recall that what I thought was going to be a sunny day turned overcast and gray faster than we could open our weather apps to see what was in store for us this day.

Our study of the weather radars on our phones quickly yielded the decision to stay put until a fast moving, rain laden, system moved through. Our destination in Savanna, Illinois was only 100 or so miles from us, the coffee was good, the pie was better, so we chose to wait in Friederick's cafe, and wait and wait and wait.




Waiting for our exit visas
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It rained hard for a fairly long time, probably 90 minutes or so. Again, our delayed start didn't worry us much, although wet pavement would make our back-road route to Potosi, Wisconsin marginally less enjoyable.

Potosi is a small river town on the Mississippi. From Fennimore, it's south due to the bend in the river I referenced when we were on the other bank of it on our way north two days prior. I feel that it must have been a railroad town at some point because it's laid out in a long narrow rectangle on either side of US18 as if the rail line ran parallel to the 18. I don't remember seeing any tracks, though and I can't find any on Google Maps, either. To be frank, though, we weren't looking for tracks or anything else other than the Potosi Brewery.

The route down was pretty straightforward, but with some interesting curves, and since we were draining into the Mississippi, it was mostly downhill. I was probably more frustrated at the wet pavement than most of us because much of my reason for riding is the anticipation and execution of the perfect line through a turn. Incidentally, that perfect line on an open road is a wee bit different than the perfect line on a closed track, but that's the subject of a different post. Frustrated or not, the CB1100, which had been a gem to this point in our trip, continued to respond consistently to every input command it was given. Shod with the Michelin PR3s, my CB's feedback was stable and confidence-inspiring. We could have followed US61 all the way into Potosi, but that was straight and looked boring as all get-out, so we followed a series of "alphabet roads" adjacent to it.

It drizzled on us a bit over the course of the ride to Potosi, but not too bad compared to other times on this trip and by now, drizzle meant nothing to us. Fennimore to Potosi via the alphabet roads is a lovely little trip.

Brother-in-Law Tony and I have stopped at Potosi Brewery on a previous "Solstice Ride" (do a forum search for more info.). They have good beer and a lovely tap room. They also have a bit of a museum which tells the tale of how the brewery came to be and a very well-stocked gift shop. Glen bought a work shirt with a Potosi Brewery patch on the back. I'd have bought the same shirt, but it's pretty uncanny how many times he and I have showed up for a ride, or a dinner, or any other event, dressed identically. I swear we don't call each other beforehand, but our wives are suspicious of that contention.

Potosi

Cheryl
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Mike
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Bikes
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We wandered about the place for a bit, it's a very cool space, then sat down in the tap room and ordered a flight to share among the group. 4 ounces each very good beers. I forget my choice that day, but my favorite is the relatively simple tasting Good Ol' Potosi golden ale.

Beer
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We wandered about a bit more to work off the 4 ounces of brew, but with our stomachs filled with breakfast and pie and the caffeine of the morning still coursing through our veins, we would not have been considered impaired by even the strictest of tests.

It was drizzling as we left Potosi. We headed out on the more-or-less straighter route of WI133 to US61 South (actually east at this point) for 10 miles or so where we'd pick up County HH and H to WI81 which becomes IL84 at the border and continues through Galena, IL and would ultimately take us to our last motel of the trip, Sandburr Run and Resort. Translated, 4 more right turns and 75 miles, and we'd be at our home for the night.

US61 would take us into Dickeyville, WI. Dickeyville is important to this story for two reasons: For one thing it is directly west across the Mississippi from Balltown, IA. Make of that what you will. The other thing about Dickeyville is that it is home to Katina's Kitchen.

Someplace along the 10 mile trip on 133 and 61, it began to rain hard. Probably as hard as on the second day of the trip, but this was the second-to-last day and we were rain tempered (some say rusty) and after a quick stop at a gas station, where we filled out tanks and contemplated the remaining miles we wanted to travel, we agreed to forge on in the steady rain. We would take the most direct route to Savanna, which I just laid out above, and it was agreed that we would pull off if it got really bad. Our radar apps indicated that it would get really bad really soon, but it was crystal clear on the other side of it if we could just get through it. We did not.

Within a very short distance (seemed like less than a mile, but was probably more like 2), we pulled off into a parking lot of a restaurant. We parked the bikes and figured we would wait the rain out in Katina's Kitchen. After all, their sign said "Now serving spinach salad". It turns out that "Now" means "when we are open" which they most decidedly were not.

Fortunately, Katina's has a little lean-to front porch with a corrugated metal roof. so after a few peeks through the window which confirmed they were closed, we at least had a place to sit and wait out this storm. And it was a real storm with big winds and lightning and everything. We were wise to stop and lucky to find shelter.


Then a most remarkable thing happened.

Katina showed up. With her mom. And her kid. And a car trunk filled with potatoes.

I think we all assumed that she would kick us off of her little "porch", but she did not. Instead, we provided the briefest manner of an explanation of who we were and we were there and a request to be allowed to shelter in place until the rain passed.

"Were closed now, but you are welcome to come inside while we shred potatoes for tomorrow's hash browns"

We helped carry the spuds into Katina's Kitchen. Mom and Katina settled into their prep work after heating up some coffee for us. They may have offered food, but we were full from breakfast and, now that I think of it, a few soft pretzels we may have had at Potosi.

We learned that Katina was from the area, but had moved away for many years and only recently returned to open this restaurant; her first. We learned that Katina and her child lived in the residence above the restaurant. We learned that Katina's Kitchen is mainly a breakfast place, but they serve lunch for just a couple of hours per day. We learned that, in Wisconsin, you'd better have a full bar in your restaurant, even if you're only a breakfast place; how would diners get their Bloody Mary with a PBR chaser if you didn't (PBR is short for Pabst Blue Ribbon, a beer brand, for those reading this from across or underneath).

The rain continued. The wind did not subside.

The storm went on for quite a long time.

"Well, we finished all the prep work for tomorrow."

We started to move off our bar stools to venture out to the porch.

"I think we're going to go upstairs to watch some TV."

"Thank you so much for your hospitality. Is it OK if we hang out on your porch until this passes?"

"Tell you what, why don't you all just stay put down here? Just be sure that the door locks behind you when you decide to leave."

Katina, Mom, and kid went upstairs and we had the coffee and the bar to ourselves for another hour or so. What kind of wonderful person does that? We were strangers. We're not even Packers fans. Not too many folks would open their doors the way she did for us. And we'd never have encountered these delightful folks if we had been traveling by car.

Eventually, it cleared up a bit. We ventured out. Katina signaled us from an upstairs window. We yelled up a "thank you!" and hit our horns as we pulled out.

Looking back, it's not hard to determine my favorite stop on our trip to Arkansas and it wasn't even in Arkansas. Katina's Kitchen wins that honor hands down.

Katina's

The rain was coming down in buckets
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Lest you doubt the veracity of my "buckets" description
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Mike G gets comfy on the porch
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Mike A finds a new friend
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Man's best friends being held by bikers' best friends
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Our shortish ride to Savanna seemed tedious at this point. Still spots of drizzle, but there was also more traffic and we were just tired from (and of) the rain. As we descended into the Mississippi River Valley around Galena, Illinois, the clouds began to break up a bit and the sun had dropped below them in the sky which served to brighten things somewhat.

We made it to our motel probably around 6. We showered, I think, and put on dry clothes. The "resort" was mediocre at best. Our room overlooked the golf course which is, I guess why the owners feel justified in calling this a "resort". No one was playing due to the weather and the time of day, but it would have been hard to see them if they were playing since the "resort" had a steel grate installed on the outside of our window to protect it from an errant shot (golf, not gun).

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The one thing Sandburr Run & Resort had going for it was its shuttle bus to Poopy's. Poopy's is a biker-style bar with a large covered patio, live music, tattoo and piercing parlor, and gigantic motorcycle gift shop. They also make a decent burger and, surprisingly a good breakfast, too.

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We shuttled in. Shopped. I bought a red and black Poopy's bowling shirt that looks nothing like Glen's Potosi work shirt. We had a nice dinner with a lot of laughs, and then we shuttled back to Sandburr Run (which sounds to me like some sort of intestinal ailment one might get at the beach).

We slept soundly, no thanks to the quality of our lodging or of the other patrons.

End of Day 8

[Cormanus]

A great yarn MTC. I'm not sure I want it to end.