I woke up about twenty minutes before my alarm went off at 6 AM. My analytical side of my brain was saying "just get up now. You're not going to get much sleep (if any) in the next 20 minutes, so you might as well hit the road." The exhausted portion of my brain was saying "stay in bed. Maybe you'll fall back asleep and wake feeling totally refreshed." I listened to the exhausted portion, but the analytical side proved to be correct. I laid there for 20 more minutes until my alarm went off.
Time wise, I gotten over 9 hours of sleep. Quality wise, however, I felt like I got about 4. I had woken up a lot during the night, and while I was always able to go right back to sleep, I think the interruptions had taken their toll. This day's ride was going to be the most demanding of the whole trip. My route had me putting on nearly 600 miles, however all of the miles would be two-lane twisty routes and a majority of them would be through the mountains.
I staggered out of bed, dressed and broke camp. Once the bike was loaded, I rode up to the restroom and stopped before I hit the road. The restroom was actually very clean, except for the biggest spider I've ever seen on this side of a glass tank. By 7:00 I was ready to hit the road.
Thankfully, the park ranger was good to his word and hadn't locked the gates. I was worried that he might have locked them out of habit, forcing me to ride through the woods to get to the road. I stayed true to my word and opened up the gates, chaining them to the stops, then hit the road.
The first stretch of the route was to head to Camden, AR where I would pick up scenic highway 7 and head north through Hot Springs. I was really hungry, and I figured I'd stop at a restaurant along the way and grab something to eat. As it turned out, I didn't see a restaurant for a long time.
The road to Camden was very quiet, I suppose was due to a combination of it being a rural road not frequented by tourists, and it being 7 AM on a Sunday morning. I would encounter the occasional car, but traffic was very light. I tried to focus on enjoying the rural flavor of the scenery and not focus on my grumbling stomach. I figured there had to be somewhere to grab something to eat in Camden, and that was only 30 miles down the road.
As I rolled into Camden, I started to look for both signs for highway 7 and somewhere to grab some chow. I discovered that in this area at 7:30 AM on a Sunday morning, there is nothing open. Not even gas stations. I came across a highway 7 junction sign so at least I was on the right track. I followed the signs for highway seven, which seemed to take me on a ziggurat pattern through the town. It was really disorienting, because my map was saying that highway 7 north should be taking me north west, the signs kept leading me south east. I was almost convinced that I had actually gotten on highway 7 south when suddenly the road swung north on the east end of Camden.
My first hurdle was a guy in a pickup truck that didn't seem to be in any sort of hurry. Now this being a vacation, I wasn't in a huge hurry myself either. However, he was driving 15-20 mph in a 55 mph zone and seemed to be perfectly content. I rode behind him for miles staring at a solid line down the middle of the road preventing me from passing, while not seeing any oncoming cars the whole way. I easily could have passed him, but doing so would have meant passing illegally. Not that I'm any sort of saint, but bikers have a tarnished reputation as it is, so I generally try and follow the traffic laws even when it's inconvenient.
Finally, the guy pulled off on a gravel road and I was able to run at the speed limit. The stretch of road from Camden to Arkadelphia was absolutely stunning. It was bordered by trees on both sides which reached out over the road like a canopy. There were few stretches that were straight for more than a few hundred yards. Most of the curves were marked between 25 to 45 mph, but I could easily run them at 10 mph over the warning. It was like riding through a postcard.
A few miles south of Arkadelphia, it started to rain. Not a downpour, but enough that I pulled over and put on my rain gear. It also made me slow down a bit on the curves, as fresh rain on the road can get a little exciting when the layer of dirt and oil raises to the surface. After it's been raining for a while this layer gets washed away and the roads aren't as slick, but I'm always extra careful the first hour or so after it starts raining.
As I arrived in Arkadelphia, I was hoping to find a Waffle House. Waffle Houses are second on my list behind Popeye's. We don't have either in South Dakota, so whenever I get a chance I try to eat at one. I rode through Arkadelphia to the city limit on the north end, but didn't see a Waffle House. In fact, the only thing I did see was a Sonic.
I noticed in Arkansas that every town has a Sonic. The town may not be big enough for a gas station, but sure enough there will be a Sonic sitting there. It was, by far, the most common restaurant I saw my whole time in Arkansas.
I had never had Sonic for breakfast (in fact, I had only eaten at one a handful of times). Being a drive-through, I was a little dismayed that I couldn't stop somewhere and get out of the rain. However, I was extremely hungry at this point, now being up for more than three hours. This being the first (open) place to get food I'd come across, I decided I didn't have any other option.
I sat on a picnic table in the rain and ate my breakfast. Actually, it was pretty good. My head was hurting a bit, along with the aches and pains you always get on a long motorcycle trip, so I also downed a few ibuprofen.
Back on the bike, I headed north on highway 7. About three miles out of town, sure enough I came across a Waffle House. I stared at it in vain as I passed by, but at this point I had already eaten and was behind schedule. I didn't really have a set schedule for the day, other than I thought it might be nice to be in Branson early enough to enjoy a leisurely supper and see some sights.
Once north of the junction of highway 7 and I-30, traffic started to pick up. Passing by De Gray lake, I stopped and snapped a couple of photos, but I had to be careful where I pulled over so I didn't get hit. Because of this, I didn't get as many pictures as I had hoped.
As I pulled into Hot Springs, traffic got very heavy. According to my map, highway 7 was going to go right through the middle of Hot Springs national park. I was excited, as I had seen pictures of the park and knew it to be pretty. I sat in traffic in the downtown area and saw that it was a very touristy spot. Lots of little shops and things to see. I inched my way through traffic and pretty soon I was on the north end of town heading out on the highway.
What? I never saw the park! How could that happen? A few days later when I was back home I did some research and discovered that the park is split into two pieces, one on either side of highway 7. To see the park itself you have to get off of highway 7. So my plan to be able to ride right through the park wasn't quite what I had envisioned. Oh well, it gives me a reason to return some day.
North of Hot Springs, highway 7 junctions with highway 5, and 7 splits off to the north west. At this intersection, I had to make a left turn. This is where I had my incident on the trip.
Prior to leaving I had a weird feeling about the trip. Call it a premonition, prophecy or paranoia, but there was this nagging feeling that something was going to happen. It wasn't strong enough to make me want to cancel the trip, so I resolved myself to be extra careful. In all honesty, I figured if anything happened it would be something along the lines of a blown tire or a broken clutch cable.
As I approached the junction, there was some oncoming traffic for which I had to slow down and let them go by. In retrospect, this proved to be a good thing as when I made the left turn I was only going about 10 mph. In the middle of the intersection was a low spot which had about 4 inches of standing water. I didn't realize it was that deep until I got into it; it just looked like a big puddle covering the middle of the road. As I hit this deep water, the bike suddenly slid out from under me. There was absolutely nothing I could do to stop from going down.
I wound up sprawled in the middle of the road on my left side laying in 4 inches of water. My bike was laying on its side, still happily running. After a brief moment of contemplation and taking a physical inventory, I proceeded to try and stand up. I say try, because the pavement on the bottom of the road was like wet glass. I slipped and fell in the water again, and was finally able to slowly get to my feet on the second try. It's no wonder the bike went down, I could barely stay on my feet.
At this point I realized that there were many other good Samaritan bikers who saw me go down and were now riding over to the intersection to help. My mind flashed with the picture of a bike pileup in the middle of the intersection, as each bike goes down and proceeds to slide into me. I started yelling and waving for them to stay back. One guy understood what I was trying to say, dismounted and waded out on foot to help me. Once he got to the middle he started sliding around as well.
I'm guessing with all my gear loaded on the bike it was pushing 900+ pounds. So here were two guys who were barely able to stand trying to right this heavy bike. It took a few tries, but we got it up. I quickly thanked him and hopped on to get out of the way of traffic which was starting to back up. I pulled out of the puddle very slowly with my legs acting like two skates on either side trying to hold me up while any little bit of throttle would break the rear wheel loose. Finally I got through the intersection and pulled into a gas station on the corner to get off and assess the damage.
When I went down I had rashed my left forearm, but outside of that I seemed to be OK. Of course, I was soaking wet because I discovered that rain gear isn't designed to keep you dry when you're laying in 4 inches of water.
My bike faired pretty well also. The crash bars had done their job and taken the brunt of the abuse. The chrome was scuffed on the lower part where it slid but I can live with that. My left highway peg was pretty twisted up, but thankfully I had brought a few tools and in about 5 minutes had it useable again.
As I looked back at the intersection I could see what looked like soap or solvent floating in the puddle. I then looked across the street and saw another service station with a trail of this fluid flowing from somewhere near their building into the intersection. I started to get really angry as I realized that this mystery substance is probably what caused me to go down. I thought about going over there and talking to whoever was in charge, but decided that in my mood there wasn't much good that would come from the confrontation.
As I was finishing up straightening out the peg, people started coming up to me and saying, "hey, aren't you the guy that went down a couple of minutes ago?" Between my anger and embarrassment, all I wanted to do was get out of there. I packed up my tools and hit the road again. I knew my arm needed a little attention, but I chose to live with if for now and deal with it further down the road.
I continued north on Highway 7 and found the road therapeutic. It was an hour until my next planned stop, and the road was beautiful. The rain let up and the pavement dried out, which allowed me to ride a little more aggressively through the twisties up and down the mountains. By the time I reached my planned stop in Ola I was much calmer.
I filled up with gas and removed my raingear. Once my arm was exposed I could fully determine how bad it was. Well, it looked pretty bad, but there was a lot of mud and gravel embedded. I went into the restroom and spent a few minutes scrubbing the gravel out (which is not much fun, but necessary.) Afterwards it looked much better. It was contained to about a 3 x 5 inch section of my forearm down by my elbow. It was starting to get pretty sore, but I would survive. After I thought about it, I'm glad I came down on my forearm and not directly on my elbow. I'd much rather spend a few minutes scrubbing a wound than sitting in a Hot Springs ER with a broken elbow wondering how I'm going to get my bike home!
I grabbed a soda and hit the road again. This gas station was at my next junction where I left highway 7 and went west on highway 10 toward Magazine Mountain.
I had visited Magazine Mountain (the highest point in Arkansas) 24 years prior on a family vacation. We hadn't been on the south side, so this was a new highway for me. The 30 miles or so from Ola to the mountain wasn't too spectacular. It might have been a pretty ride if the sun were out, but with the overcast skies and the occasional light shower it was a bit dreary. I was already soaked head to foot, so I had abandoned the rain gear.
As I started up the base of Magazine Mountain, the road became much more interesting. The south road up the mountain was very scenic, with the trees once again providing a canopy of foliage.
Near the top, there was a scenic overlook. I found the "Danger High Cliff" sign amusing as if it wasn't grossly apparent to anyone standing there.
There were a lot of pretty butterflies in the area. I tried to get a close-up picture of one.
The view from the top of the mountain was pretty. I would have been even more spectacular on a clear day, but you have to take what life gives you.
I went back down the mountain on the north side, and proceeded to head up highway 23. Once you get north of I-40, you hit a section of road called the "Pig Trail". This was a great stretch of highway. Lots of wonderful twisties as you barrel up and down mountains. Plenty of opportunities to scrape your pegs and enjoy the scenery.
I arrived at Huntsville a little later than I had anticipated. I stopped for gas, and while I didn't want to spend too much time sitting still, my body needed a break and my stomach needed some filling. The gas station was called the "T" Mart. I had to get a picture, as many of my friends call me "T" for short.
The "T" Mart had a grill, so I ordered a burger and chips. The burger was wonderful. I complemented the girl at the grill, who seemed surprised that I would enjoy a gas-station burger so much. I sat for a few minutes to study my map while I ate my burger.
My next leg was to take me east through what some people call the "Arkansas Dragon." This is a stretch of highway 341 that goes from just north of Mountain View up to Mountain Home. I'd heard that it was a great stretch of road and worth visiting. Unfortunately it was 100 miles east of where I was, then I would have to come 100 miles back west to Branson. I was starting to get concerned about making it to Branson at a reasonable time with the route I had planned, but decided that it probably was do-able. So rather than modifying my route, I decided to stick with my original plan.
Back on the road, much to my delight the sun had come out. Unfortunately, so did the heat. This stretch of road was very, very cool and had a lot of wonderful scenery. I deviated from the main highway (412) a few times and took some lesser roads which provided me with some great chances for photos.
The closer I got to highway 341 the more the day was taking it's toll on me. I was tired, hot and sore. While the roads made for great riding, I was starting to wish I had an extra day. I could have spent the night and ridden this stretch in the morning when I was fresh. Well, it was a little late for that so I continued to press on. Finally after what seemed like an eternity I reached the turnoff to highway 341, the "Arkansas Dragon."
I don't remember how long the Dragon is. All I remember is what a great road it was. I had a blast jamming on the throttle up to 70 mph, hitting the brakes to take me down to 20 mph which would allow me to scrape my floorboards around the hairpin curve and then rolling on the throttle again. I repeated the process over and over. This is truly one of the best motorcycle roads I've been on. It actually made me forget for a few minutes how bad I was feeling.
On the north end of the dragon I stopped and snapped a picture. I was too busy riding to snap any while I was on the dragon itself.
Shortly after I took this picture I had my first encounter with a deer. Two of 'em, actually. I saw them up ahead and got on the brakes. They jumped across the road about 20 feet in front of where I stopped. I made a mental note to keep an eye out for those things, as I was heading into the evening hours when deer become much more active.
In Mountain Home I stopped for gas. On top of the heat, fatigue and the physical toll the trip was taking on me I was starving hungry. However, I was now 90 miles away from Branson. Unfortunately I completely misjudged how long riding this route would take. It was after 5 PM, and I had hoped to be in Branson by suppertime.
Rather than pause any longer than necessary, I grabbed a candy bar and a soda and pressed on. I was hoping that I could be in Branson in about an hour and a half. 90 miles in an hour and a half, that sure seems do-able when you're sitting at home in your recliner planning your trip. As I would shortly be reminded, recliner mileage often doesn't match real-world mileage.
The last leg of this day's journey had some things going for it, and a lot of things not going for it. The road would have been awesome, had I not been in a complete foul mood, heading directly into the glare of the sun and trying to keep an eye out for deer. At least I was now in Missouri.
The road was very twisty. Much more so than the straight line on my road atlas would lead me to believe. I couldn't run nearly as fast as I had hoped. At this point I would have enjoyed a nice straight piece of slab to get me to my stop for the night. The road was so twisty it was actually beginning to annoy me. This is evidence of how exhausted I was becoming. I probably should have stopped, but there was literally nowhere between where I was and Branson. Stopping wasn't an option unless I wanted to spend the night in a ditch.
The setting sun was completely blinding me. I was having a hard time seeing the road and wound up holding my left hand up over my eyes to try and shade some of the glare. Riding the twisties with one hand so your other hand can assist with seeing the road is lots of fun. (Sniff, sniff... do you smell sarcasm?) One thing that angered me at the time but I now find pretty funny is as I was shielding my eyes from the sun, an oncoming car went by. As the driver passed me, he saluted. I wondered what the heck that was about until I figured out that my attempts to see probably looked like I was saluting the whole world.
On this stretch I came across numerous deer. Given the fact that I couldn't see because of the sun, this was a great concern for me. Thankfully I didn't have any close calls. Whenever I would see them a blast of my air horns would send them running for the woods.
I was really starting to second guess that I had made a wrong turn, as the road kept twisting in what seemed to be the wrong direction. I was losing my directional bearings with all the curves. The road signs kept saying I was on the correct highway though, so I just forged ahead on faith. Finally, at 9:00 I reached the edge of Branson. As I rode into town, the traffic got extremely heavy.
I decided I'd better pull over and check my map to figure out where the KOA campground was located. I could only imagine that a wrong turn in this near gridlocked traffic would cost me at least twenty minutes to get back on the right track. I turned into a parking lot and pulled out my map. Suddenly I hear a noise and look up to see another biker pull up next to me on a Road King. I have no idea where he came from as I'd been sitting in traffic and hadn't seen or heard another bike ahead or behind me.
Now I'm not generally one to put a lot of stock in claims of guardian angels, but if I've ever experienced one this was it. I was in an extremely foul mood (considering I'm generally a pretty easy going person) that was dog tired, sore from head to toe and who just spent more than three miserable hours riding at 40 mph, staring at a blinding sun and dodging deer. Now that I hit this traffic I was near my boiling point.
The guy asked me where I was going and I told him the KOA. He glanced at my map and gave me exact instructions on where to go. In the midst of his navigation advice, he said to "turn at the big ship". I must've had a puzzled look on my face because he grinned and said, "You'll know what I mean when you see it." I thanked him for his help and pulled back out on the main road. After about 15 seconds I glanced behind me and he was nowhere to be seen.
Friendly biker dude whoever you are, if you happen to read this, thank you. You seriously saved my bacon that night.
I inched my way through traffic and followed the instructions I'd been given. Sure enough, a few miles up the road I see this giant replica of the Titanic sitting on a corner. There was no way to miss it. I turned off the main drag and traffic lightened up a bit. About a half mile down the road I came across the KOA.
I pulled up and proceeded to check in. The guy behind the counter was a rider himself, and he put me on his golf cart and gave me a tour of the campground. He showed me the available tent sites and I picked out a nice flat one next to a gazebo that had power outlets.
It felt good to get off my bike. I had arrived more than three hours later than I had anticipated, so my big plans for a relaxing night in Branson had a big hole shot in them. In retrospect, I don't know if there is such a thing as a relaxing night in Branson. I hadn't been there since I was a kid, but now it's like a country version of Los Vegas without the gambling.
For some reason, that last sentence reminded me of a line from Naked Gun: "Are you a gambling man, Mr. Drebben?" "Only when I eat Chinese."
I called my wife to let her know I was alive, and pitched my tent as darkness was taking hold.
I really needed a shower, but since it was now after 9:30 I decided I only had enough energy to either shower or eat. Seeing as I was starving to death, eating quickly won that struggle. I (reluctantly) hopped back on the bike to look for somewhere to eat. It was now dark, but I was so tired I didn't even have the energy to switch from my sun glasses to my clear goggles.
I had seen lots of interesting places on the main drag, but I hesitated to get back into the madness of that traffic. I saw the "Uptown Cafe" and it looked promising, so I pulled in. There was an old Hudson parked out front, which was pretty cool.
I had a cheeseburger, fries and a strawberry malt. A little spendy (especially for the malt) but tasty. I just sat and absorbed the silence. I can only imagine what I looked like to the other patrons, but at this point I didn't care.
After supper I went back to the KOA and crawled into my tent. After a few minutes of reading the cicadas lulled me to sleep.
Return To The Main Motorcycle Gallery
This page last updated on 06/28/2018