Need some wind therapy?

With 45+ years of riding experience, the team has developed a library of our favorite rides in Texas and points beyond. We call them our Twisted Rides. We thought it might be a good idea to share that experience and encourage you to do the same!

We partnered with MyRoute-app, a leading provider of route planning tools, to create and share the routes. Using the map below, Users are able to view and download the routes without registering with MyRoute-app. If you would like the ability to open/edit/save the routes, the User will be prompted to register with MyRoute-app and offered two subscription levels - Basic (free) and Gold (fee dependent on subscription term and payment method). Being an avid ride planner, I prefer the Gold level for the additional features and I also believe in supporting independent software developers who invest their time and talents to create useful applications for the motorcycle industry. As a Twisted Rides referral, you receive an extended evaluation period and special pricing if you choose the Gold level - so give it a shot!

What journey is on your bucket list? Click on a ride below and we'll show you the way!
Showing posts with label Hot Springs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hot Springs. Show all posts

Thursday, May 6, 2010

It was a cold day in...April

As much as I love to ride, sometimes life gets in the way.

Over the past 60-days, my riding (and writing) time has been consumed by attending to my lovely bride in her recovery from major back surgery and the sale of, and resulting move from, our primary residence. With the recovery going very well (hoping to have her back on the bike by the fall) and the move behind us, it was time to get El Semental Negro, my new trusty steed, out on the road to stretch his gears.

With only a couple of days advance notice, I was able to persuade my buddy Bill (aka “Iron Butt”) to join me on the 2-day, 850-mile ride through Northwest Arkansas. Actually, I had hoped to make it a 3-day ride, but ole' Iron Butt had other plans.

It was a cold day in…April when departed the new base camp in East Texas. Making a run into the mountains always results in cooler riding temps, but it was a chilly 48 degrees when we hit the road at 7am. Not that cold until you get going 70mph, which tends to be the low-end of the pace when riding with Iron Butt.

Bill had traveled light, bringing only a lined nylon mesh jacket, so he layered-on his rain suit to help knock the wind chill. Knowing he’d get no sympathy from me, he sucked it up and only whined in the form of a weather report, “Looks like the clouds will burn off and I’ll take this crap off after our first stop.” We figured we’d ride for a hour or so, then stop for breakfast and the temps would catch-up. Wrong. We were in leathers (or in Bill’s case, the rain suit) the entire day since the temps barely topped 60 degrees.

Tour de Arkansas - 2010
Map created using Microsoft Streets and Trips 2009
© Microsoft Corporation 2009

It was Bill’s first journey into Northwest Arkansas on a motorcycle, so the plan was to cover as much road as possible, stopping for groceries and Kodak moments as the whim hits us. Our target destination for Day 1 was Ozark via Hot Springs, so we hit the slab (I-30) in Texarkana to cover the flat lands as quickly as possible. We exited I-30 at Caddo Valley, where we took AR-7 north towards Hot Springs.

Running almost the entire length of the state, from Harrison in the north to El Dorado in the south, AR-7 is the central nervous system of great motorcycle roads in Arkansas, with many, many great loops and side roads along the way. For months, Bill has been going on and on about riding AR-7, so I routed as much of the trip as possible to accommodate his lust.

As we danced around the foothills of the southern tip of the Ouachita Mountains, the road into Hot Springs was a good warm-up to things to come. We stopped for lunch at the Brick House Grill in downtown Hot Springs, then scouted a few candidate sites for Thunder Road Motorcycle Lodge before hitting AR-7 for our first run through the mountains.

Bill gets a woody every time you talk about running the twisties through the mountains, so after giving him a heads-up about Arkansas signage (multiple chevrons on a curve generally indicate you can take the curve at +20mph over the posted speed, while a curve with a rectangular solid arrow sign deserves more respect), I told him to take the lead and that I would meet him at the convenience store in Ola. My experience is that it is best to let the boy run on the first set of twisties and you’ll either see him pulled over by local law enforcement authorities along the way or waiting patiently at the designated rendezvous site. Despite his excellent driving skills and track record, I always look for fresh skid marks along the way, just in case the road bites him…or he it.

AR-7 did not disappoint. The trees and foliage were in various stages of bloom and the air full of sweet smells (and pollen). The road was in great condition, with only one small section under repair. We were taking our journey mid-week, so there were a fair number of retirees maneuvering their massive recreational vehicles in an effort to reposition for the next step of their endless road journey. At times, threading these moving obstacles courses are considered added entertainment when performed on mountain roads. And on some days, they are nothing short of death defying learning experiences, which I experienced on the return leg of the trip.

After a quick break in Ola, we headed west on AR-10, which meanders through the Petit Jean River Valley between the Big O's, the Ouachita and Ozark national forests. The road is lined with farms and thickets, crisscrossing creeks and streams as you follow the sun. Along the way, one often catches a whiff of the unique aroma generated by a chicken farm which, if you haven’t been blessed with such an experience, is about like sticking your nose in your 3-year-old’s worst diaper…times 20. You know you are out of range when the burning stops.

About fifteen miles in, I notice that the smell isn’t going away, so I begin looking for the culprit. No nearby chicken farms. Lunch wasn’t that spicy and my pants are clean. Bill is too far behind me for it to be him. Hmmm. And just then we pop over a hill and come upon the shit wagon – literally a dump truck LOADED with twelve cubic yards of chicken shit. OMG! And he’s turning on our next cut-off!

Our eyes were watering as we rounded the corner and Bill was shouting, “We gotta get around this guy!” We did and just as he was disappearing from my rear-view mirror, I realized that we had turned on AR-307, not AR-309. Damn! We had to make a U-turn and were blessed with one final whiff as we sped by.

With fresh air back in our face, we found AR-309 and headed north to The Lodge at Mount Magazine, located within the Mount Magazine State Park. The mountain has hosted several lodging establishments since the late 1800’s, and if I am not mistaken, all of them have been destroyed by fires, forest or otherwise. The current facility was built by the State of Arkansas and was dedicated in 2002 by then-governor Mike Huckabee (of the 2008 presidential campaign fame). The lodge has a breathtaking southern view over the Petit Jean River Valley and boasts bluffs higher than 200 feet. For those of you who are more adventurous, Mount Magazine also offers a hang gliding launch site (must be Class 4 certified). I’ve never stayed at The Lodge, but have attempted on numerous occasions during summer months only to learn that they book-up quickly.

It was easily 10 degrees cooler in the mountains (back into the 50’s) and after a 30-minute rest stop and photo shoot, we continued on our final leg into Ozark. On the north side of Mount Magazine, AR-309 follows a path cut out of granite, providing spectacular sights along the way as we switch-backed through the Ozark National Forest. This was the first time I have travelled south-to-north on AR-309, and I think I prefer the north-to-south perspective better.

With limited options in Ozark, I tend to stick to what I know, and I know Rivertowne BBQ always delivers great groceries. Today was no exception and we feasted on a combination plate of brisket, pulled pork, and ribs. Perhaps the only BBQ joint in the world that doesn’t sell beer, we went next door to The Speak Easy lounge for a couple of rounds and to see if my old buddy Curtis was still around. Curtis the rest of the Not Ready for Prime Time Players were nowhere to be found, but we did meet Roy, who appeared to be Curtis’ little brother based on the stories he told. We stayed at the Days Inn and awoke to 45 degree temps the next morning.

After a hearty breakfast at the Ozark Restaurant and a refueling stop, we headed for the Pig Trail Scenic Byway (AR-23). The most recent winter has not been kind to the Pig Trail, as there were several crews repairing the road where erosion generated by the melting snows have caused rock slides and road collapse. The Arkansas State Highway and Transportation Department is to be commended for making the repairs so quickly and it looks like the road could use a complete resurfacing in the next year or so. Meanwhile, I caution riders to watch for loose gravel in areas where the repairs have been completed. 

Deer were foraging for food along the road and we encountered several herds of white tail deer feeding after we turned east on AR-16. This road runs the ridge along the Ozarks and provides spectacular views to the north and south. It was along here that we also snuck-up on another shit wagon, but we were able to swing around in record time, avoiding the nasal burns. I thought seriously about taking AR-21 south, having received good reports on that road from another biker at the BBQ joint the night before, but opted to stick with the original plan of coming down AR-7 back into Russellville.

It pained me to cut the trip into NW Arkansas so short, but doing so was the only way we were going to complete this ride in 2-days. Given more time, I would have made a loop on AR-7, AR-123, and AR-21, several times, then spent a night in one of my favorite towns, Eureka Springs, before exploring more sites in and around the Ozark National Forest. Hopefully, it wet Bill’s appetite enough that he’ll return.

I know I’ll be back and I’m not waiting for another cold day in April to do it!

© 2010 TRHG Holdings LLC

Monday, December 21, 2009

Tour de Arkansas - Vol 1

With the brutal North Texas winter approaching (we're likely to be under 50 degrees for 2-3 weeks!), it's time to face the reality that we'll only have a couple of weekends a month to get in some decent riding.

One ride that most everyone turns-out for is The Big Texas Toy Run on December 20. This charity event regularly draws over 60,000 bikes come rain or shine. The event benefits Mental Health-Mental Retardation (MHMR) of Tarrant County, Metrocare Services (the MHMR in Dallas County), and other children's charities in the Greater Dallas/Fort Worth Metroplex. The toys are distributed to thousands of underprivileged and challenged children all over the Metroplex. Every time I have participated, they have filled up at least one 53' trailer with gifts and toys, often times more. This year, over 500,000 toys were donated.

I snuck-in a quick ride today, ran a few errands, then hit the back roads on the way home. As I looked through trees with their leaves on the ground, my mind started to think of journeys past and planning for new ones to come. A couple of the most beautiful destinations that came to mind are the Quachita and Ozark Mountains regions in central and northwest Arkansas.

A few years back, Scott (of Mercy Rider fame) and I planned the perfect mancation - a 1,400 mile, 4-day run over the Talimena Scenic Drive in southeast Oklahoma, a zig-zag across Arkansas with a loop around Table Rock Lake near Branson, Missouri, then over to the Mississippi River delta region. Memphis (technically Tunica, Mississippi) was the outbound turnaround point and the perfect destination for partaking in the pleasures of the riverboat casinos.

I refer to this run as the Tour de Arkansas and the plan was simple - ride till our nads were sore, then eat and drink till it didn't matter anymore.


Talimena Scenic Drive, Southeast Oklahoma
Source of photo: Public Domain

We made it to Ozark, Arkansas on Day 1, a respectable 325 miles for the day. Ozark is a scenic little town of 3,500 friendly folks located about 40 miles east of Fort Smith, on the banks of the Arkansas River. It is also the former residence of Bill Dees who wrote Oh! Pretty Woman that was made famous by Roy Orbison. According to Wikipedia, a Bugs Bunny cartoon entitled Hillbilly Hare (Warner Brothers, 1950) featured the silly wabbit vacationing in Ozark and in the premier season of the reality TV series The Simple Life (2003), Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie worked at the Sonic Drive-In located in Ozark.

We arrived just about the time the sun was setting over the mountains. Parched and hungry, we stopped-in at the bar next door to Rivertowne BBQ for an ice cold adult beverage. There is nothing like the smell of a well-established bar - that slight musty bouquet of spilled beer, coupled with cigar and cigarette smoke, and an occasional whiff of some sweet thangs' Wal-Mart perfume when she walks by. The crowd was light when we pulled-up a stool, folks were just now getting off work. Little did we know we were about to become part of one of those dinner plays where the diners unknowingly become part of the cast.

At the helm that night was Cindy, the local lady barkeep who seemed to know everyone that walked through the door and, if she didn't know you, could size you up pretty quick. Bud owned the place, but there is no doubt Cindy ran it. We ordered our beers and after a few witty comments (for which we are famous, I might add) about our mancation quest, we seemed to pass the admittance test. Cindy was friendly and seemed quite adept at carrying-on separate conversations with each of the patrons, while also being able to bring everyone into a single conversation on occasion.

At one end of the large horseshoe shaped bar was a threesome of retired locals who pretty much kept to themselves. Mack and Bob used to drive timber haulers, while John was a mechanic at the same trucking company. By the sounds of it, I'd guess they'd been raising hell together for well over 50 years and Bud probably had those stools bronzed in their honor.

Betty and Marvin arrived and she took the seat to my left, with Marvin taking the one just around the corner so she could keep an eye on him. They looked like they had come straight from the Early Bird Special at the Denny's over on I-40. It didn't take long before I realized that Betty was the Matriarch of Franklin County. She was a gruff lady in her autumn years who seemed to know everybody, and had a strong opinion on everything.

That said, Betty put forth a friendly face when talking to strangers, just as any proper Southern lady would. She asked us enough questions to make sure we weren't drug dealers or escaped convicts, then just settled in to oversee her subjects while sipping her rum and Diet Coke. Marvin nursed his bottle of beer, flinching every time Betty raised her hand to slap the bar as she spoke. I think she regularly abused poor ole' Marvin, because he didn't say ten words all night and when he did, most of the time it was, "Yes, Dear."

We ordered-up another round.

On one side of the bar was a pool table with a couple of guys playing a game of 8-ball while a third watched over. They would rotate with the loser buying beers and the challenger plugging in more quarters to release the balls for another game. After a while, a friend joined them, bringing his own pool stick.

"You practicin' for the tournament next weekend?" Cindy blurted out.

"Nah, just need some beer money," Joe Bob replied, which got the other guys talking some trash too. Each of the men then proceeded to put a $5 bill on the rail. A fool and his money...

On the other side of the bar was a shuffleboard table where Ben and Darlene, both in their early 30's, were playing a pick-up game...literally. Ben was teaching Darlene how to play, leaning across her back while gliding her hand in a slow, seductive, sweeping motion that appeared to include a little extra hip action. Ben obviously wanted to clear the table and do Darlene right then and there, but she was playing hard to get, which made him even more annoying...and horny.

"Get a damn room!" Betty yelled out. "You're in the Bible Belt and Darlene's married for God sakes!"

"I'm separated!" Darlene quips back as if to say, 'I ain't no slut. I got needs!'

Busted for his obvious public transgression, Ben looks for a way to divert the attention. "What kind of cigar you smokin'?" he yelled across the room at Scott and me.

"Tonight, we're smoking Padron's." I replied. "And you?" I really didn't give a shit, but was trying to be friendly with our charming host.

He reaches in his jacket and pulls out a leather cigar holder. "I have a La Flor Dominicana Ligero Oscuro Carajos. It's a Dominican blend with an Ecuadorian wrapper," he replies loud enough so everyone can hear. "I read about them in Cigar Aficionado last month and ordered a whole box online."

Great, I thought, here we are in Ozark, Arkansas and we've met The Ladies Man in the flesh. Somebody, get the camera! About that time, Betty leans over and tells me softly, "Don't pay him no mind, he comes from a wealthy family and never really made much of himself. He recently went back to school and thinks he gonna become a lawyer."

"What grade is he in?" I replied without hesitation.

Betty about wet herself right then and there. I immediately became her new best friend and we continued to make fun of Ben and his awkward moves on the increasingly drunk Darlene. "What grade's he in, that was damn funny!" she kept saying in-between fits of laughter.

Approaching intermission, Scott and I decided this was the place to be for the night, so we ordered BBQ to-go from Rivertowne and brought it back so as not to miss the rest of the show. Cindy rounded out the dining experience with more ice cold beverages.

About that time, Curtis walked in. "Oh, shit!" Betty immediately says under her breadth with a hint of disgust.

"Hey, Curtis. It's been a while. I thought you were still in jail!" Cindy said as if it were her regular welcome greeting to Curtis.

"Nah, I've been out a while. Been working over in Russellville haulin' gravel." he replied in his loud, twangy voice. Scott and I traded glances, is he for real? Curtis ordered a beer and, not knowing us or wanting to cross Betty, he went down to harass the old timers at the end of the bar. You could hear him telling stories, occasionally getting so loud that everyone in the bar would glance over. When the old timers began to ignore him, he decided to take the seat next to Scott and proceeded to tell us his life story.

Seems he grew up in the area and had volunteered for the Army in the early 1990's. He experienced a head injury during Operation Desert Storm that resulted in him receiving a medical discharge. "Got a metal plate in my head!" he exclaimed while tapping the side of his head with his beer bottle. He claimed it affected his personality and that he had to go to the VA Hospital in Hot Springs on a regular basis for a psych evaluation so he could renew is prescriptions. It was pretty clear this guy was certified.

About that time, Cindy took pity on us. "Curtis, how's your Mamma and Grandma?"

"Awe, hell! Those fuckin' whores?" he yelled back. "They're the ones who got me arrested. I hope they're dead!"

Betty explained that our new best friend Curtis had an unfortunate experience with the law when, in the course of a meds lapse, he allegedly threatened his (I'm sure lovely) mother and grandmother with violence...again. Said family then proceeded to file charges against their once precious son/grandson.

It wasn't too much longer and Curtis was tanked-up pretty good. Being from out of town and apparently estranged from his family, he announced he was going to go down to find him a whore and bed-up at the Hillbilly Inn (the reviews of this full-service establishment are classics). Not sure if that meant he was going to swing by Mom's place first or not, but I immediately struck the Hillbilly Inn from our list of lodging options for the night.

By now, there was a friendly card game starting on the round table behind us. Bud, Betty, Marvin, and the old-timers joined in for a low-stakes game of poker. They offered to let Scott and me in, but having been properly fed and watered, we figured it was time to head to the hotel.

Yet another reminder that it’s the journey that makes these trips priceless. While I have fun sharing our Real People of Arkansas stories, by no means do I mean to disparage them. The folks we encountered along the way were fun and very accommodating, and I can only hope we made their day as well.

© 2009 TRHG Holdings LLC