ARKANSAS TRIP.
JUNE 9th – JUNE 12th 2011.

With each consecutive ride being just as nice as the other, it has become so much more difficult to decide which one I have enjoyed over the other.
To this date, my friends, those who were along for these rides that we share in common, and I, have spent much time in debate and comparison as we constantly relive the wonderful and exhilarating experiences over and over and over again and still have not been able to rate one much over the other. We’ve agreed on so much together that we enjoyed about each trip and not surprisingly, have had relatively little to dislike. My personal dismay has been that I have not created enough “Nikon Moments” to compliment my logs. I have promised myself to make a better effort to change this fact in all of my future journeys. After all, it’s about the journey too right? Not only the destination.
It is my hope to better share these privileged times of my life with those of you who read this – riders or not and bring you along on this journey which depicts a lifestyle of being happily free and able to visit places and meet new friends along the way – this way and path we call life.
I have and will always continue to work hard and smart in life for these rewarding results. It has not been easy, but we (my wife and I) have made it so far. Our children are all grown up and responsible. We are very proud of them. They are our blessings! We appreciate them greatly.
That being said, one fact notwithstanding is that “My Bucket List” continues to grow!
So since the Texas Hill Country Ride in April 2011, which took us deep into the heart of Texas, the “Big Bend” ride which took us to the far western reaches of Texas the next question was: Where next? So we began to look east.
True to form with all his energy, encouragement and determination (as had been the case with the West Texas trip and all the other rides), Tony our ever present “Road Captain” posed the question: “How about Arkansas”? “They say it’s one of the most scenic to ride in the country”. In the following days as we all began to research, we were captivated by the magazine articles and photographs. Not to mention the websites. I think I visited almost every site with “Touring Arkansas” on “The Net”.
“Count us in!” This was a trip William and I were not prepared to miss - when and if we could make it happen. So our discussions began in earnest and our dreams began.
The “ride suggestion” was introduced at our next group meeting, which for the previous two months had also been held at Rudy’s. at Airline and S.P.I.D. – one of the more popular barbeque places in Corpus Christi. This was in the hope of garnering interest and participation for some, if not all of the rest of our riding group members to join us for what we were hoping would become a truly enjoyable trip for us.
That being said, we continued to make serious plans. Oh yes, plans that started out with weighing and measuring our “iron horses” to find out if “trailering” them to Arkansas would be possible and cost-effective for the trip. Since three of us were already committed to this trip by this time, we proceeded with plans.
Due to time constraints imposed on us by our respective job duties and requirements, we had come to the unanimous agreement that the long stretch of interstate highway between here and Arkansas would not allow us the luxury of stopping often enough along the journey as we would like to, thereby forcing us to rush and minimize the time spent on the journey between Corpus (short for Corpus Christi) and Arkansas.
So trailer in-tow that evening after the meeting and with the help of Dennis and Victor, we set about loading up the “Big Red Honda” and its “Yellow Sistah (sister) V-Strom” onto the trailer for measurement. Thanks to detachable wing mirrors on the Honda, we rested assured when we found that we had adequate space - width-wise. William’s Yamaha would have a perch of it’s own in the “bed” of Tony’s Ford pickup truck. With that “out of the way” all that remained was for us to get our respective permissions from our employers for time off, set our travel dates, put some “jingles” in our pockets to pay for the trip expenses and head out for what we looked forward to being another trip of a lifetime.

Five Days Later.
It’s really shocking how many tornadoes have hit the Midwest this year. I quietly prayed for and wished my condolences to all the affected people, their families and loved ones.
(Reuters) - A monster tornado killed at least 116 people in Joplin, Missouri when it tore through the heart of the small city, ripping the roof off a hospital and destroying thousands of homes and businesses.
Weather officials said the tornado that hit the city of 50,000 at dinnertime on Sunday was the deadliest single tornado in the country since 1947 and the ninth-deadliest tornado of all time, they said.
Emergency officials said on Monday 116 people were killed and about 400 were injured. According to local officials many had massive internal injuries.
Survivors told harrowing stories of riding out winds of 190-198 mph in walk-in coolers in restaurants and convenience stores, hiding in bathtubs and closets, and of running for their lives as the tornado bore down.
More severe storms were predicted for the region, in a year that has brought tornadoes of record intensity across several states. Further complicating the rescue effort, power lines were downed, broken gas lines ignited fires, and cell phone communications were spotty due to 17 toppled phone towers.
Roaring along a path nearly six miles long and about 1/2 mile to 3/4 mile wide, the tornado flattened whole neighborhoods, splintered trees and flipped over cars and trucks.
The Joplin tornado was the latest in a string of powerful twisters that has wreaked death and devastation across many states, and it comes as much of the Mississippi River valley is underwater from massive flooding.
Twisters killed more than 300 people and did more than $2 billion in damage across southern states last month, killing more than 200 in Alabama alone.
That was it! I was ready to call my participation off! Within days, we all sadly but prudently cancelled our plans for the trip!
It was now the last week of May 2011. We were all “feeling down” – as all genuinely passionate motorbike-riders become when a couple of weeks go by without a good bike ride! So we chose Saturday the 28th for a ride around what we locals call “The Loop”.
William had opted to spend the day on his sailboat moored in Aransas Pass.
We chose to eventually return to Corpus via Aransas Pass. (Good excuse to go see William.) As we stood on the dock by his boat, I became keenly aware of the fact that it was such a lovely day – weather-wise.
My mind drifted to the storms in Arkansas and Missouri.
Hmmm! For close to a week now we had not heard reports of any more violent weather.
“Hey guys” I said, “if you’re all still up to it, I think we should “make” the Arkansas trip. I think it’s safer now and I’m willing to take the chance and go”.
William: “I’m in”.
Tony: “Hey guys, back up now. Let’s get serious. No backing out now. What the heck, let’s do it”!
And with handshakes and a group hug, we left William to enjoy the rest of his weekend on his boat and set off with a renewed vigor and excitement in anticipation of the trip.
Our convenient departure date of June 9th would be set later that week.

Travel Day.
9th June, 2011
I hardly slept the night before. There seemed to have been so much to prepare. It took the whole night and kept me up into the wee hours of the morn.
Toiletries, clothes, first aid kit, GPS unit and backup paper road map, assorted emergency tools and oh yes, tire repair kit – ha ha! Lesson well learned from the West Texas Trip, courtesy of the accompanying “Honda Fury” and definitely not to be forgotten, Nikon camera gear/eqpt.
TCLOCS (bike checks) and finally a shower before bed.

At ten minutes after five on the morning of our departure, they arrived. We loaded up the “Big Red Honda” and remaining gear. At five thirty-six a.m. we pulled away from my driveway. We were six minutes behind our own set schedule!
As we approached the intersection of Park Rd. 22 and TX 361, I couldn’t help but notice how softly the dawn began to break in the early morning sky and began to kiss the earth with it’s first rays of light for the day. I insisted on us pulling up for a photo for posterity.
Tony chose the Parking lot of the American Bank on the corner and pulled in. No better time than to compliment the beginning of the trip with a Nikon Moment. Being still relatively dark at that time of day and and me being the inexperienced amateur photographer, combined with my fingers trembling with excitement, my choice of camera settings left much to be desired, but I was able to capture this “lucky shot”. A shot that takes me right back to that day in time even after all these years.

So, still with smiles on our faces and anticipation in our hearts, we finally set off – again! We were now sixteen minutes late! (Which had and would really upset Gene Jackson and we would be constantly reminded of that as we marked our milestones along the journey. – This part of my story is better told by William and I will allow him that honor at a time of his choosing).
As we crossed over the Laguna Madre, putting us onto the mainland from Padre Island, The sun began it’s ascent into the sky over the Oso Bridge. It seemed to promise that we were in for another very lovely day.

The jokes were hilarious. We were enjoying the journey. We enjoyed each other’s company. It is a blessing to have friends. We were excited. The miles rolled by.
It was mid-afternoon as we crossed the state line into Arkansas. The scenery began to change. The vast brown, open, flat expanses of the Texan interstate transitioned to lush green forest bisected by wonderfully smooth blacktop. Boy, were we anxious!
We arrived at our hotel in Benton, Arkansas just before seven o’clock in the evening – sixteen minutes late! We were finally here! Oh yes, we were ready! Yes, like a little child, I was trembling with excitement!
Checking in and unloading some of our gear into the room, we proceeded to find a place for dinner before returning to the hotel to settle down for the night
and PREPARE FOR THE NEXT DAYS’ RIDE!!!

Day 2
June 10th, 2011
Benton, AR
Up at six. Breakfast. Load up riding gear. Group prayer. “Hit the road!” Ha, finally! We were in Heaven!
The road to Hot Springs gave us a taste of what was to come. Less than five minutes out of the hotel, we encountered a tree-lined and totally shaded road which wound down and around with curves that our dreams had been made of. All too soon we broke out from under the canopy of trees and pulled into the gas station that seemed to be waiting to greet us!
Quickly fuelling up, we began our journey westward towards the Town of Hot Springs, Arkansas along Highway 5. Although a narrow two-lane road, it thrilled us with its charm of curves and shade. Fourteen miles and ten minutes later we arrived in Hot Springs.
Quaint little town with a very curious charm to its ambience. We committed to coming back later to visit at a more leisurely pace. Right now, we wanted to ride the fabled Arkansas roads!
Turning around, we headed back along the same route and swung north onto Highway 7 about five miles along. Hanging a left at the first junction we came to, we began OUR RIDE!
Tar-snakes, jagged road edges, no shoulder, nothing but loose gravel on the sides and nothing much to see ahead of us Tony pulled over after about five minutes of riding. I read the disappointment in his face just as I know he read the same in William’s and mine!
It couldn’t be. Is this what we had come all this way to experience? “Man, I know many roads better than this in Africa” I thought to myself. It can’t be! Was this the ultimate tourist hype/con? All those magazine articles, web sites and photos we had drooled over? Couldn’t be. Something was really wrong here. “Something was wrong this picture”.
Looking ahead along the road, it did not look to be any different from where we were at the moment.
Ok. So what to do next? For several minutes we pondered.
Nah! Not possible!
“C’mon guys, let’s go back to the junction and regroup”. Tony turned us around.
Arriving back at the junction, we turned north back onto Highway 7. We followed the road through a small town we came to. We encountered some traffic congestion due to some on-going roadwork/repair. Yeah, they needed to repair the road we had just experienced. Not knowing what to expect anymore, we seemed to have transformed into explorers. Not quite what we had anticipated.
Worming our way past the road repair crews and their equipment, we were suddenly rewarded with beautiful blacktop as far as our eyes could see!

Whoah!

Now this was more like it!

We cranked up the r.p.m.’s and began our gradual ascent into the mountains, with the road ahead of us disappearing into the vanishing point of our line of sight.

The roads curved, we banked.
The roads ascended, we climbed.
The road led the way, we followed!

The woods were lovely, dark and deep
And our bikes had promises to keep
And miles to go before they would let us sleep.

And for the rest of the day this pattern repeated itself over and over and over again.

We banked, we ascended.
We sped up, we slowed down. All this taking place under the canopy of the forest trees. The sunlight occasionally filtered through the thick canopy of the trees and created such a stunning visual display of color contrast and a natural stroboscopic effect that was so pleasing to my senses.

Shade, shade, sunlight, shade, bank, roll, bank, climb, bank, roll, sunlight, shade, shade shade …………. On and on we went. On and on this pattern repeated itself.

The roads curved, the turns were many, the switchbacks came at us. We were in a groove.
Without intent, I began to scrape pegs on the road. I was now pushing the bike to it’s lean-angle limits.
Yes! This was the stuff of my dreams!
My thoughts wandered back to the early weekday morning rides in West Africa during the early 2000’s when I would take my youngest daughter to school on my Honda VT750C Shadow, scraping pegs around the 5th Circular Road Circle.
I was living vicariously again in my own thoughts.
It’s a wonderful motorcyclists dream/feeling when the ride is so smooth and one can operate the bike almost subconsciously.
Almost as second nature.
But now after this brief moment of a break in my concentration, I re-focused my attention back to the ride currently underway.

As we crested the first mountain, the view was spectacular! As much as we wanted to take in the views, we had to forcibly keep our eyes and concentration on the road under and ahead of us.

Our curiosity made us turn off the road at first chance, taking us to a sulphur-smelling river at the base of the Nimrod Flood Barrier Dam. It was a pretty location. We visited with some locals who were fishing and chatted a while. Very friendly.

Needless to mention, the dam itself was very impressive …………….. It could easily pass as a set for use on a James Bond movie.

Leaving the dam after a rest, re-hydration and taking in the views, we came upon another breathtaking vista at the entrance to the Petit Jean State Park just up the road. It was so beautiful up here. The view, again, needless to say was spectacular. More so than the visit to the dam.
We really felt on top of our world now and we literally were!
Not only standing right up to the edge and being daredevils, Tony and I, in our excitement had parked close to the edge of the mountain……………
And shortly thereafter, incurred the wrath of “Ranger Rick”!
He appeared out of nowhere and ordered us to re-park our bikes in a safer location away from the edge. Too close for comfort! (I think safety would be a better choice of words). This was such a beautiful location.
Pushing on, we arrived at YET ANOTHER beautiful vista barely a few minutes further along the road ……………
The Cedar Falls Overlook was also truly spectacular. The cascade of water seemed to fall forever before reaching the plunge-pool. The photo I took from this perspective really did not capture the essence of my experience. But take my word for it; it was a lovely sight to behold. Nature in its amazing glory!
As beautiful as everything looked at each vista, each successive one thrilled and “wowed” us even more . Seemed like they were getting lovelier and lovelier as we went along. (That’s relative of course.)
An elderly couple from Ohio drove up. We chatted a while. They were kind enough to take this picture of William, Tony and I and in return I took one of them together.
They told us of the beauty of the Petit Jean’s “final resting” place ahead and it’s overlook just ahead of us. They had been coming here every year. This was their sixteenth year of visit in a row. We would find out why very soon! Their words to us were: “If you young men like this place, wait till you see what awaits you ahead!”
This supported our already growing excitement from the experiences of the past few miles.
Just when I thought I had seen the prettiest sight, the next one and the next, wowed me even more!
What a feeling!
Legend has it that the spirit of Petit Jean hovers over this mountain, giving it an air of strange enchantment. (If you are interested in reading about the legend/history associated with this place, follow this link by pasting it into your web browser: http://www.petitjeanstatepark.com/history/history_of_petit_jean_mountain.aspx)
I was a big boy on a big bike, seeing big things dreaming big dreams and visiting big places as I had dreamed of so long ago as a little boy!
I was living my dream!
…… and no matter how big we think we are, nature has an uncanny way of always reminding us of how small we truly are!

So with that, we mounted up and pushed on.
The next turn-off we came to, led us off the main road and onto a relatively narrow road, yes, tree and shrub-lined for close to a couple of hundred yards.
Then it opened up into some sort of a cul-de-sac. At this point all we could see was sky! As we approached the parking area, we were so overwhelmed by what we encountered.
At almost the top of his voice Tony, already having dismounted from his bike was yelling out to William and I as he began videotaping.
“Hey, come here, you’ve gotta see this!
Grab your camera Ernest!
WOW!
C’mon William!
True to all the stories and history I have come to read about Petit Jean, this was truly the most beautiful location they had chosen to lay her to rest. It did not disappoint. I stood right above her grave and the view was awesome! It was quiet – peaceful, almost eerie, with unsurpassed natural beauty. It was a clear day and we could see for miles! We were high up and we had a natural high! At this moment in time and space, we felt like we were on top of and at the edge of the world! We were enchanted!
At this point, I shall allow some of my pictures to help tell this part of the story by getting you to use the following link. See gallery photos here.
We stayed as long as we could, which was still too short a time for us. By now it was 2:13p.m.. We had been “on the road” since about 7:00a.m.. Reluctantly we had to begin making our way back to Benton. For safety reasons it was imperative that we “got off the mountain” before dark.
Turning the iron horses in the direction of return we relished the ride back down to the valley.
Curve, bank, shade, shade, sunlight, shade, bank, slow, press, roll, bank, straighten out, bank, straighten out, bank again, again and again.
Shade, sunlight, shade, shade, bank, roll, level out ……………….. oh boy! They (these ride/road conditions just kept coming at us. I was enjoying every moment of this.)
The torque delivery from my Big Red Bike was silky smooth. She pulled out of each curve and bank effortlessly with power to spare. It is such a comfortable and relaxing machine to ride.
The low r.p.m.’s of the vee-four engine, the ergonomics of the full fairing, seating position to match and full fairing gave great wind protection. Again, without realizing it, I was carving the mountain and flowing through the twisties at a pace averaging twenty-five miles per hour faster than the posted speed limits With Tony and William in-tow). I know why this 1995 year model machine has earned the title “KING OF THE TOURERS”! and still to this day continues to hold that same title in it’s reincarnation as the ST1300. (Sorry, all you other non-ST riders, read the reviews, you’ll see I’m not exaggerating! Ride one and you’ll see and feel exactly what I mean.)
All day we had ridden under a canopy of trees with very little sunshine beating down on us.
It was now just before 6:00p.m.. We pulled up at the same station we had fuelled up at in the morning. As we fuelled up in preparation for the next days’ ride, our attention was drawn to a gentleman also at the gas station who was waiting to fuel up his motorbike as well. A Kawasaki Concours 1400 – silver in color. It’s the kind of bike you notice wherever you see one. Kinda like my Big Red Honda! Ha ha.
(Did I mention that my buddy Tony also owns one? Yeah of course, it’s the one he rode on to West Texas on our trip in April this year.)
Anyway, we struck up conversation (courtesy of our Concours Technocrat, Tony) and ended up introducing ourselves to Henry Wilks. After a brief few minutes we parted and went our ways.
Feeling the pangs of hunger now, we proceeded to find some dinner.
Returning to the hotel and as luck/fate would have it; we coincidentally passed by Henry coming out of a shopping center next door to our hotel.
Well, to cut a long story short, he followed us to the hotel and spent more time chatting with us.
With a new friendship in the making we all agreed that nothing would please us more if we could all ride together the next day. Henry, being an Arkansas native, offered to show us around and take us on a ride of our lifetime through “his neck of the woods”.
“Well, it’s agreed then, let’s meet here at say 7:00a.m.. How’s that?”
“Great! We’d love that. Very kind of you. See you at seven then. Goodnight”.
Needless to mention, we went to bed that evening after re-living the day’s experiences over and over and over again!

Day 3.
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 begging 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 H…………. 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. – 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!

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.



Homeward Bound.
Day 4
12th June, 2011

Up at seven thirty a.m., breakfast, final checks and packing, we began to make our way back to Texas. It was an extremely hot day. We averaged 103’F all the way back home. The only thing I remember we kept saying, was how nice it was to be riding in the truck as against riding the bikes all the way home on this trip in this intolerable heat.
Our bikes had performed flawlessly, we had made some wonderful new friends, we had had a safe and enjoyable two full days of riding making us all feel very enriched in life. We had experienced bike riding in inclement weather, boosting our experience and confidence levels. We were a circle of friends making pleasant memories and looking forward to more times like this. These were definitely blessings from above and we were appreciative, to say the least.
Some have said: “Trailering is a disease”. You know what? We sure were glad we were afflicted!

Three weeks later.
Gathered around Bobby’s (my son-in-law) dining table one Sunday afternoon for a lunch party, we found ourselves telling stories and sharing our excitement of the trip with Victor, the rest of my family and other friends.
Slapping the table with his open palm and with almost uncontrollable laughter, Tony in his usual booming voice exclaimed: “Aaah, I’ve got it”!
“Got what Tony”? I asked.
“Now I know what she said”!
“What who said”? I asked
“Remember the girl who yelled at us from the pickup truck in Arkansas”?
“Yeah ………”
“Well I just realized what it is that she yelled”!
“What, what”? I impatiently asked.
And with true “country accent” …………….she had said:

“Ya’ll gunn git wet”! (You’re all gong to get wet – for those of you who don’t speak American!)
……………. And for the rest of that evening, we laughed and laughed till our jaws couldn’t take it anymore.
I took my thoughts/words back of how I had stereo-typed and branded her in my thoughts at the time.
Converse to my thoughts, she had actually been very nice to us by having consideration for our well-being by giving us notice of the pending storm that afternoon.
I said a prayer of thanks and asked for a blessing for her and a blessing of forgiveness for my self for having misjudged her in my thoughts.
I had been captivated by the experience of visiting Arkansas. I dare to say that their State Road Designing Committee must be comprised of motorcycle riders! It has to be! The curves and banks, road gradients and quality were good. So good that only another “rider” would know exactly what, where and how to lay them out in order to deliver the thrilling rides I experienced.
For those of you readers who ride bikes, if you ever get the opportunity to visit and ride Arkansas, it will be well worth it in more ways than one! I have no doubts - based on my personal experience.
Great motorbiking roads and great riding weather – for the most part.
Best of all, great camaraderie.
For months on end after this trip, we spoke of not much else whenever we were together in the company of our riding friends. I know for a fact that they got so fed up of us talking constantly about all our new experiences on this trip.
On our part we were hoping that our joyfully gained experience would rub off on them, enough to the point that it would encourage them to want to get out and do the same so as to gain the sheer joy from the experience.
Our experience from this trip is an indelible part of our memories and life experiences. So much to the point that now, 7 years later (as of the time of editing this portion of my journals), we still talk often and fondly about it like it occurred just this past weekend.
I came home from this trip feeling blessed, happy and thankful for this opportunity in life.
Y’all be safe.