After 480 miles I was pretty tired, but this was New Orleans and I had to see what it had to offer. I ate at Coop's (recommended) bar just around the corner, then wandered a few yards to a bar where "Ironin' board Sam" was doing his stuff to a swathe of empty tables ! When I walked in I doubled the number of people listening to him playing Yamaha keyboard and laying down some pretty good blues. The other one served me a beer.
I remained listening to the music, chatting to the barmaid and drinking until Sam finished his session. Then two women who had come into the bar a little earlier asked if it was OK for them to have a go. One sang, while the other played the piano. They were superb, especially the pianist. I thought "this is New Orleans"
The next couple of days were spent doing the usual tourist things, wandering round, eating, drinking, seeking out alligators and spending money. Everything you've ever heard about the place is true. It's hot, humid, sweaty, and after dark the biggest party you've ever been to. And I want to go back and stay longer.
I called in at the local Honda dealer to
get an oil change. Neither of the mechanics had ever seen a Laverda
before !
At one point I was heading towards the most amazing thunder storms, with great forks of lightening flashing to the ground to right and left ahead every few seconds. I knew I would soon hit rain, but it was so hot and humid that putting an the oversuit was like donning a personal Turkish bath. Then when I hit the rain it became cold and clammy.
I stopped at a petrol station, very low on juice, only to find that it had no power, and had not had for several hours. I was wandering whether I would make it to the next one, when the lights came back on!
412 miles from NO I stopped for the night at a motel just into Georgia. After eating I was entertained by "The Young Ones" followed by "Comic Strip Presents" on MTV.
The next morning I had the memorable experience of riding through Atlanta. Interstate 85 took me right the way through the centre. On the way in at one point the road I was riding was 3 lanes wide, separated by a low concrete wall from another 3 lanes, with another 3 beyond it, and the same in the opposite direction - an 18 lane width piece of road ! Going through the centre the interstate actually reached 6 lanes in each direction, with loads of new construction still going on. I later commented to someone that it would be an amazing road system when it was finished. He said he would be amazed, because they'd been building it for 20 years !
Around midday I had my second (and last) enforced halt of the trip, when the clutch cable went. Fixing it was no problem, but the new one was very stiff. And when a Laverda clutch is stiff that means stiff.
Not much later I crossed into South Carolina, almost immediately leaving the intestate and beginning a climb, at first through rolling foothills then onto steeper ascents into the southern end of the Appalachians. From this point I hardly saw another straight road in the next 900 miles.
Into North Carolina, I picked up the Blue
Ridge Parkway. This is an astonishing feat of civil engineering -
a 469 mile long scenic drive, which curls and twists its way along the
high Appalachians. It was actually constructed for "motor recreation",
with a fixed speed limit of 45mph and no commercial vehicles allowed.
Over 6,000 feet at its highest point, it is fitted into the landscape to
give a new view at every curve. To get the scale, imagine a scenic
drive being built from Cambridge to Aberdeen - that's the same distance.
Just down the road was Grandfather Mountain, just under 6,000 feet and, being the States, with a road to the top. I took a picture of the Mirage in the "mile high" car park. Later I visited the town of Boone named after Daniel - where I got chatting to the owner of an art gallery, and ended up having a very enjoyable evening in the company of her and friends.
On arriving back at my accommodation, I discovered that they had another resident. A guy riding a Gold Wing Interstate. 2 years old it had the licence number DRFTR, and 64,000 miles on the clock. Preparing to set off the next morning, he was astonished that I was touring on something as skinny as the Mirage, but seemed much happier when I brought out the panniers and reattached them !
The next day I continued the tortuous road north, along the Parkway for several hours then back onto "real" roads, through some very impressive rugged, mountainous country, eventually stopping at a small riverside campsite in West Virginia. I felt happier to be off the parkway, remarkable though it is, I think after a couple of hundred riles it was just too much. In this area the ordinary highways were not exactly dull, and you knew that they were there because people needed them, that real people used them for real reasons.
Before leaving the high country the next morning (Thursday) I stopped off at another state park, Blackwater Falls, to have a look at the waterfalls. When I came back to the car park there was a group of touring bikers in. All couples well into middle age, with two Harleys and a Gold Wing. It was quite a pleasant change to see the Harleys: out on the roads, I had not see so many, but Wings were everywhere. With another group was a woman who introduced herself as a BMW rider she had done 42,000 touring piles on her K75S last year - and she was one of the few people I met who recognised the Laverda.
She warned me that my proposed route through Pennsylvania, highway 219, was pretty grim, and she was right. I won't go that way again. But I made it to Niagara Falls and booked into the Youth Hostel for the night.
On Friday I did the usual sightseeing bit,
but the thing that really stands out in my memory was walking across the
bridge that joins the USA to Canada. The contrast between the two
sides is astonishing, and to me gave a real insight into the cultural divisions
between the two countries. On the US side the riverside was mostly
grassed parkland, with tarmac paths and same woodland. On the Canadian
side they have some beautifully laid out formal gardens and many, well
tended, flower beds in manicured lawns. The feeling was that the
US side was organised to provide the optimum cost benefit, the Canadian
side reflected that there are some things which have a higher value than
cash return. It just felt so much more civilised.
It turned out that it was Canada day, and I was able to round the day off by sitting on the Lake Ontario quayside in the balmy warmth of the evening and watching a fine firework display. It seemed an appropriate finale.
Saturday I returned Larry Strung's CDI unit, with thanks which cannot be expressed. It turned out that the problem was just a failed coil, discovered by replacing the non-sparking one with one removed from another dead CDI unit. It runs the bike still. In the evening with the Mirage now back in Wardair's custody, I joined Larry and a small group for a few beers at a bar just around the corner.
And on Sunday I left for home.
This trip was a dream come true. I thought to get it out of my system. Some hopes. I now know how much more there is to see, and I'd go back tomorrow if I could. Sure it's not cheap, but I reckon the trip cost about £1500, and some people pay that for packages.
If you've ever thought about it, DO IT.
You won't regret it, but don't think Europe will ever seem the same again.