Day 3.
Saturday 11th June, 2011
Benton, AR

Up at six, breakfast, whoah!
As William and I exited the front lobby after breakfast, we saw, out in the parking lot that Henry, with his close friend Glynn Richter had just arrived.
“They’re here already! Oh my goodness, Ernest!” William exclaimed to me.
“What, what”? I asked.
“His buddy also rides a Concours”!
If any of you readers have seen or know how a Concours performs, you’ll understand what William meant by that exclamation.)
We were seriously “out-horsepowered”!
As we strapped down our gear after exchanging pleasantries, I overheard William talking to the YFZ (his bike). “It’s alright baby, you’re gonna do just fine. It’ll be okay, don’t you worry”!
It was obvious to his bike in particular that she was seriously “out-horsepowered” in this company of bikes. But you know what? In the hands William, as I had been witness to in West Texas, that bike would have no problem keeping up with the big bikes! He knows how to handle that baby!
Both Henry and Glynn are such soft-spoken gentlemen. Very warm natured. We were all immediately at ease in their company. Almost immediately their warm friendship flowed making us feel like we had been friends for so long.
Forging new friendships is one of the greatest blessings bestowed upon us as a result of these travels and we look forward to meeting more friends and sharing the opportunities and passions of riding that we all share.
“We’d better get on the move ‘cos I have to be home by two, this afternoon” said Henry. “So once we get to where we’re headed, I’ll have to leave you and get back home”.
“Hold on! one thing I’d like to and must do right now.” I said …………………………..

After which we bowed our heads in prayer giving thanks for all the blessings in our lives and begged for safety and protection.
6:40 a.m. Kickstands up, engines fired, ear-to-ear smiles on our faces, (on mine at least; and I’m sure I can say the same for the rest of the guys) we pulled out of the hotel’s parking lot, turned right onto the access road and whisked up the short, steep gradient towards Highway 5. Turning right at the lights onto Highway 5 put us onto the same road we traversed yesterday morning that took us by the same gas station we had patronized.
Henry led the way with the rest of us in tow. Barely a second in time behind him was Glynn accompanied by “The Texans” (as the three of us have come to be affectionately known in this circle).
Same as the previous day, we came to the same area of the town where we had encountered traffic congestion. Still more road construction going on. We slowed to a crawl, made it past the road workers and found ourselves again on some very freshly laid asphalt/blacktop. A Nikon moment provided itself and setting up at the side of the road, I snapped a couple of shots of William and the other guys for posterity.

Leading the way, Henry pointed us in the direction of somewhere or the other! By this time I did not know, nor did I care where we were headed. The road was silky smooth. The weather was gorgeous. I was enjoying the ride and for now, I was in a different world.
As we wound along in convoy, we passed by a very small tract of land that seemed to have been cleared for some sort of development. Wait, no, there was something wrong with this “picture”.
An R.V. (Recreational Vehicle), mattresses, a trailer home, tree trunks and assorted “stuff” were all piled up together on the side of a gradient to my right.
“Oh gosh!” a tornado could have come through here. Not too far ahead, we passed by some land where some trees had been snapped in a centralized or more localized fashion. A “twister” seems to have touched down here!
This was the closest I had come to seeing first hand, the effects and aftermath of these dangerous wind/storm conditions.
The road twisted and ascended. We banked and climbed. The sunshine disappeared under the canopy of trees. The “strobe light” came on! Shade, shade, shade, sunlight shade, shade, shade ……………….. on and on it went. On and on we followed. The vistas were simply gorgeous. Only problem was: not enough layovers to pull over for some photography. Take my word for it though – unimaginable natural beauty.
Coming to the town of Ola, we broke for a short rest. It had been a thrilling ride to this point. We conversed, joked, re-lived the experiences of the last couple of hours and were amazed at how long we had ridden under the canopy of trees.
Henry led us off. We followed. The road ascended, we climbed. The road twisted. We banked. We leveled off and went into the next bank and the next and the next.
As we ascended this mountain road, it became immediately noticeable how quiet it had become. Almost surreal. The throb of Tony’s V-twin engine on his Suzuki V-Strom was all that I could hear. All of a sudden we came out of a bank onto a straightway, still under the canopy of trees and I caught a glimpse of an entranceway to someone’s property. If I did not stop for a “photo op” I would be sure to regret it. It was an opportunity for me to get a photo of our surroundings.
Slowing down to a halt, mirror-check, head-check, mirror-check again, I turned around and made my way back to the turn-off I had just passed. As I set up to compose my picture, William returned from up ahead, pulling alongside me. He came back to check on me. (Our “no-man-left-behind policy/procedure was in play. That is: if you lose sight of the rider behind you in your rear view mirror for a minute or so, turn around and go look for him to be sure he is safe!) I snapped off a couple of photos. Not long after that, here came Tony – same procedure. Boy, this was so functional and relieving. It made me appreciate the joy and safety of our riding rules and the attention to safety which we always do our best to apply.

I was fine. So Tony and William headed off to catch up with Henry and Glynn.
After putting my camera gear safely away, I took off and proceeded to catch up with them.
I caught up with them barely five minutes thereafter, only because they had pulled over at a vista situated at the crest of this mountain. We were now at the highest point in Arkansas – Mount Magazine’s Petit Jean River Valley Overlook; and might I add, one of the most beautiful vistas I have ever had the privilege and blessing of visiting. It was as beautiful as it was serene!
For about thirty minutes we were the only people in the universe! We relished the beauty and serenity of the location.
Just as I remarked how nice and quiet it was, the tranquility was broken up by the roar and characteristic thumping noise/sound of a big bore …………. motorcycle.!
Aaaaw! There goes the neighborhood! We all hilariously and simultaneously exclaimed.
C’mon guys, time is of the essence. Henry led us off again. Barely a couple of minutes later, we arrived at “The Lodge”. This is the highest point in Arkansas! We were 2753 feet (839 meters) above sea level.
The view of the valley was unparalleled. Not a cloud obscured the deep serene! With full camera equipment set up, I spent close to an hour taking photos from this vantage point and my friends were all very gracious and exhibited such patience as I went about my amateur business!

For about thirty minutes we were the only people in the universe! We relished the beauty and serenity of the location.

Just as I remarked how nice and quiet it was, the tranquility was broken up by the roar and characteristic thumping noise/sound of a big bore …………. motorcycle.!
Aaaaw! There goes the neighborhood! We all hilariously and simultaneously exclaimed.
C’mon guys, time is of the essence. Henry led us off again. Barely a couple of minutes later, we arrived at “The Lodge”. This is the highest point in Arkansas! We were 2753 feet (839 meters) above sea level.
The view of the valley was unparalleled. Not a cloud obscured the deep serene! With full camera equipment set up, I spent close to an hour taking photos from this vantage point and my friends were all very gracious and exhibited such patience as I went about my amateur business!
It was time for Henry to leave us. Leaving now would allow him to arrive back at his home in time to take care of his obligations for the day. I was already sad thinking that the rest of our ride would be without both He and Glynn. But they had gotten us up here and this was a treat of a lifetime we were so grateful for.
Expecting to say goodbye to him anytime from now, I was exhilarated to find out shortly thereafter, that his plans had just changed and he would be able to spend the rest of the day with us. So after “taking in” what we could at this location, we now prepared for the descent from the peak.
Oh wow! We had now gone from one extreme to the other. As we coasted downhill the thrill of the descent with it’s series of sharp twists and turns “came at us” with combinations of strobe lights and temperature change. I found out later on that we were headed for the fabled “Pig Trail”!
In the days before roads were developed in this area, the wild pigs also known as razorbacks, “carved” out a pathway for themselves in their search for food and existence, which today has become the roadway linking the area to the now famous University of Arkansas – home of the “Razorbacks” football team.
With it’’s never ending twists and turns, we rode the whole length of it, again under a canopy of trees all the way. We encountered so many other bikers along the way. With the characteristic hand-wave/bro-greeting to each rider we passed by, I literally rode all the way with one hand only on the handlebar.
Arriving in Fort Bend, we stopped at a popular point in the bend of the Mulberry River which marks the end of the Pig Trail. We were exhausted. Banking our bikes from left to right required unwavering concentration and effort.

"Meet “Scrappy”.
Riding pillion (rear-sitting passenger on a motorcycle), “Scrappy” was having the ride and time of his life. (Scrappy and I met in the Summer of 2006 and since then we have been un-separable riding friends. Together, we have journeyed through two continents.
He was a gift to me from our youngest daughter. She charged him with the prime responsibility of being my protector, guardian and companion in her absence. – More about our adventures together in another story.)
Scrappy needed to hold on for his dear life. With both arms wrapped around his “back-seat perch”, even he was thrilled beyond what he could have imagined in his wildest dreams!
These are big bikes we ride; and here we took a much needed rest from the road. In the Fort Bend souvenir shop located here, we purchased the stickers we had earned by completing this leg of our journey.

We continued to wind our way down off the mountain, twists and turns galore. Shade, shade, shade and more shade.
The weather began to turn and we were anxious to shed some of our riding gear. It was very humid. The Arkansas heat was living up to its reputation for this time of year. The constant rush of breeze had gradually begun to de-hydrate us and soon we would have to stop and re-hydrate ourselves.
Standing on a corner lot in one corner of a junction at the base of the mountain, we stopped and took a break in the lot of a long-ago closed down gas station.
Ominous clouds had begun to gather in the sky. Henry urged us to move on. He feared we were in for a storm. Sudden claps of thunder boomed and confirmed his fears.
As we prepared to move on, a pickup truck rushed by us. The lady riding in the passenger side stuck her head out of the window and “yelled” something we guessed was a not-so-nice thing to say at us!
“Y’all ………………”.
That was all we needed to put a dampener on this great day’s adventure we were having.
A sudden hush/silence fell over us and none of us said a word. We weren’t too sure of what she said; but bad thoughts crossed our minds I’m sure. (At least I speak for myself). I was taken aback. None of us exchanged a word over the encounter of the “what we perceived to be a very negative and derogatory verbal uttering”.
Sullen faced, quiet and low-spirited, we donned what protective clothing we dared to and moved on.
In the back of my mind I wondered what other attitudes and mind-set of people in these parts we could and would encounter. Shucks! Oh well, nothing we could do about that. From my personal perspective, I had made 2 very nice local friendships in Henry and Glynn. That’s all that mattered to me.
As for the “girl in the truck”, a title I now bestowed upon her, I wrote her off as just being an ignorant person!
Opting to have pizza for lunch, we pulled into the first Pizza Hut we came to along the way. Lunch was a great social time for us. The food was good. The company was great. William, Tony and I picked up the tab. It was the least we could do at this time to express our gratitude for them making the time for us and the joy of our new friendship.
With lunch out of the way we hurriedly prepared to leave and head back to Benton, hoping to make it before the approaching storm would engulf us.
Henry had suggested that we “catch” the interstate and make our way back along this route in an effort to make good use of time.
We Texans did not know it, but through all of the twists and turns of the day we had ended up very close to the Oklahoma state border. In short, we were waaaaaay west of where our journey began this morning on I-40 east.
We were rolling along at a pretty good clip – circa 75 m.p.h. It began to drizzle. Then it really began to come down! Talk about a thunderstorm. The traffic was heavy. The drivers were very unforgiving! It was hairy for us. We had to keep pace with the flow of traffic. I mean, the vehicles did not slow down in the rain. We found ourselves reluctantly riding at 70 m.p.h. in this weather. Visibility was extremely poor. For the next half an hour, it came down! The rain was relentless and it got heavier and heavier.
William and I, with William riding “tailgunner” (last position of the formation) fell way behind when a couple of cars cut rudely in front of me forcing me to slow down to a safer speed, well below what we were running at. They seemed to not have any consideration for our well-being and safety in these inclement weather conditions.
I lost sight of Tony up ahead. The rain was now so heavy. Visibility was down to about 100 yds.
All we could and had to do was to look out for our own safety.
I did not know the way. I did not know whether or where we would or should be exiting the highway. At this point William was depending on me for directions and guidance.
Squinting through the rain and keeping my eyes searching the road far ahead, I could now just barely make out the distinctive flashing strobe brake light mounted on Tony’s Suzuki. It was like a beacon, throwing it’s guiding light as a lighthouse does for mariners. “I saw the light exit the highway, which was still quite a ways ahead and a sudden calm came over me. I knew they were all close by and that William and I would be catching the same ramp off the interstate – all things being equal.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity, we exited the highway and wound our way back to Highway 5 in Benton, by which time the rain subsided – much to our relief. At the furthest point, we had been ninety miles east of our exit! And at least thirty-five of those were traveled in the rain!!
All too soon, our days’ ride was at an end. Pulling up to the gas station we had patronized for two days, we said our “see ya later’s” (Certain in our hearts that this would not be our last visit or meeting – The Good Lord permitting) and made our way back to the hotel.
That evening as we sullenly loaded our bikes back onto the pickup for the return trip to Texas, we hardly spoke any words. It was obvious that we were sad to get to this point in time all too soon.

Next - AR 1 Day 4. Homeward Bound 4.