Saturday, September 29, 2007
Bikers come in all shape and sizes at BBBQ
Coming soon to a town near you. October 3-6th, 2007. Less than a week to go!!!
Friday, September 28, 2007
Hwy 352 West
I continued on 352 past the land reclamation area and a large auto graveyard where 352 goes over Interstate 40. I followed 352 to the Junction with 219. I went up 219 doubled back and took the video I posted on 9/25. I then got on the Interstate and was homeward bound.
I found a few old houses, including a nice old log cabin or whats left of it.
Looks like this old house has the fireplace in the middle so it can heat both sides at once. I'll have to come back when the undergrowth has died out. Might get a better picture.
If I can make it to the top of a certain mountain this fall, I'm going to take some pictures of a fantastic old fireplace. Thats all thats left standing of what must have been a huge old house. Its in a forest area now but at one time there was a large community where it stands. It is huge, I would'nt want to guess on the size of the mantle piece, but its the biggest I've ever seen in an old house.
That will be coming up later this fall, when I may have to resort to pics taken from my cage travel. I guess that will be my section for people with onroad/offroad bikes. Thats something I wish I had, the possibilities would be endless.
I found a few old houses, including a nice old log cabin or whats left of it.
Looks like this old house has the fireplace in the middle so it can heat both sides at once. I'll have to come back when the undergrowth has died out. Might get a better picture.
If I can make it to the top of a certain mountain this fall, I'm going to take some pictures of a fantastic old fireplace. Thats all thats left standing of what must have been a huge old house. Its in a forest area now but at one time there was a large community where it stands. It is huge, I would'nt want to guess on the size of the mantle piece, but its the biggest I've ever seen in an old house.
That will be coming up later this fall, when I may have to resort to pics taken from my cage travel. I guess that will be my section for people with onroad/offroad bikes. Thats something I wish I had, the possibilities would be endless.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Continuing West
Leaving Clarksville, I made a turn South on 309 and crossed the Arkansas River on the Mills-Ahne Bridge. This bridge is the longest bridge in Arkansas at 1.5 miles. It's fun to cross, I've crossed it many times. One of these days I'll stop long enough to take a picture. When I do take a pic all it will show is a long straight stretch of cement with water on each side. I do have a jumpy video though, cement surfaces are not good for taking videos.
After doubling back on the bridge I went back to Hwy 64 then took 352 W. I found this little building with electric candles lit in the window and a gold star on the front. Had a nice old bell and well too. I have no idea what this is for. Is it a church or what? I vaguely remember a womens group called Ladies of the Southern Star or something like that. If anyone knows, please put it in the comments.
This old house being taken by nature is across the Highway.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Head West
I rode West a few days ago and stopped off in Clarksville for a few pictures. Later on in the day I made a side trip to Scraton, Ar., then followed Hwy 352 West and eventually ended up in Ozark. Thats for later though, today I'm in Clarksville.
Clarksville is a nice old town, its got all the makins for a run of the mill Arkansas country town. Its got a Courthouse in the square,a Military Memorial, old stores and houses,an old train station. It has huge old houses on the cliffs above the creek that flows thru town and a long bridge across the creek. On the dike thats between the creek and the lower part of town is a really nice jogging trail. \
Speaking of old homes. I know that somewhere to the west is or was the oldest house in Johnson County. It was an old breezeway home. The kind with the open breezeway in the middle. I've been to it years ago but I've forgotten where exactly it is. When I find it I'll take a picture of it.
This year was the first year for "Creek Fest". It was alot of fun, lots of activities for the children and music for the adults. Its held next to the creek and the American Legion building (which resembles a castle).
Clarksville is the home of Arkansas Cycle Works and College of the Ozarks.
A little history here, I've been to this town many times and had never read this plaque until the other day. Another part of Arkansas's coal mining legacy. To the West of town was a huge open pit strip mining area, its been undergoing land reclamation for years.
To those of you reading this that work with me. Look at the name on the bottom of this Memorial to Service Men and Women who have died in War. Marlin Roy Maynard was in the Army during the invasion of Grenada. He did'nt make it back home. Hershal Maynard, Marlin's Dad, worked with us for years as a locksmith, he passed away several years ago.
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Sometime back there was a last train to Clarksville, this is the station, the tracks are covered with aspalt. I doubt the "Monkey's" had this station in mind when they wrote the song "Last Train to Clarksville".
Clarksville is a nice old town, its got all the makins for a run of the mill Arkansas country town. Its got a Courthouse in the square,a Military Memorial, old stores and houses,an old train station. It has huge old houses on the cliffs above the creek that flows thru town and a long bridge across the creek. On the dike thats between the creek and the lower part of town is a really nice jogging trail. \
Speaking of old homes. I know that somewhere to the west is or was the oldest house in Johnson County. It was an old breezeway home. The kind with the open breezeway in the middle. I've been to it years ago but I've forgotten where exactly it is. When I find it I'll take a picture of it.
This year was the first year for "Creek Fest". It was alot of fun, lots of activities for the children and music for the adults. Its held next to the creek and the American Legion building (which resembles a castle).
Clarksville is the home of Arkansas Cycle Works and College of the Ozarks.
A little history here, I've been to this town many times and had never read this plaque until the other day. Another part of Arkansas's coal mining legacy. To the West of town was a huge open pit strip mining area, its been undergoing land reclamation for years.
To those of you reading this that work with me. Look at the name on the bottom of this Memorial to Service Men and Women who have died in War. Marlin Roy Maynard was in the Army during the invasion of Grenada. He did'nt make it back home. Hershal Maynard, Marlin's Dad, worked with us for years as a locksmith, he passed away several years ago.
.JPG)
Sometime back there was a last train to Clarksville, this is the station, the tracks are covered with aspalt. I doubt the "Monkey's" had this station in mind when they wrote the song "Last Train to Clarksville".
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
This video is Hwy 219
Going North on 352 from Ozark you come to the crossroads of Hwy 352/219. If you keep going North your on 219. You'll pass the gate in the video on your right going uphill. Hwy 219 is paved for several miles north of the crossroads and on the right side of the road for the most part of the ride is Contran land. I've heard its about four thousand acres and has Elk in it. I talked to the owners of the Store at the crossroads and they say some really rich people pay to go there and hunt (and do lots of other stuff, they said with a smile). They've got paved roads running everywhere in there.
This is the Liqour Store at the Junction of 352/219. It had some stacks, a cold drink, some video games and a blond.
An old barn along Hwy 219 North of the Junction with 352.
In the next few days I'll have some pics from around the Clarksville area.
The Ride
Charles and I would get in touch with each other, dropping by the house, work or call and meet somewhere. I can remember sitting at the car wash late in the evening when the teenage traffic had slowed. It was quiet, except for the spray of water as someone did a latenight car wash and a dog barking in the neighborhood. Then faintly in the distance to the West I could hear the slight rumble. The sound grew steadily in volume as it grew nearer. I'd heard it so many times that I knew before seeing whether it was the 66 or the 70.
Charles on his 70 pulled into the car wash and switched off his engine. I sit there on my 75 FX and marveled at the Electraglide. He sure kept that bike clean and running in top condition, I thought to myself. The crackling of the engine started. We greeted each other with a "whats goin on" or a "where to tonight". It didnt matter, we were in no hurry, it was a cooler than normal summer night and it just felt good to be out. Out of the house, out to where we could ride off and put thoughts in perspective, where they should be, although really no where in particular. Meditation, thats what this is all about. I rode for meditation, and peace of mind.
We decided to ride the deserted streets of town first then head out into the country. On a road, could have been any road, we had ridden them all. The question was always "will it be curves or straights tonight?" We agreed on both and started up the bikes. The 70 roared to life with the push of a button, the 75 sometimes took a little coaxing, but it always started and joined in with the dresser.
We pulled out into the street going thru the gears and finally settling into a comfortable speed. Riding thru town, we listened to the sound of the pipes bouncing off the walls of the old stores and seeing reflections on glass.
Charles and I both felt the same about riding. Riding to us was a way of being in contact with what forces were out there, forces that no one can touch or talk to or hear, but can feel. Theres just something about riding a bike on a lonely stretch of highway on a summer night as it was, or any night or day for that matter. Its like following a trail that leads to nowhere in particular, a thread in the dark, one that pulls you along and talks to you as problems are forgotten and the ropes that bind you are cut.
We rode side by side, almost without exception, the sound of the two bikes resonating between us, a sound like no other. Its difficult to explain the feeling of exhileration and elation that comes with being one that enjoys the sound of two Harleys riding dark ribbons of highway, late at night. The sound of the bikes, the tires against the aspalt, the clanking of changing gears, its just absolute bliss.
Charles and I rode side by side so often it was almost as if we rode as one motorcycle. I usually rode the outside lane, next to the grass, Charles always took the inside. Why? I dont know, it just happened that way. As we came up on a left hand curve he would put on throttle, I would let off slightly, we would swing the curve. Then he would let off slightly while I gassed it and caught up. If there was a curve to the right, I took the lead, I would throttle while he let off and then played catch up. We did this so much, we knew we could trust each other to do what was expected.
On warm Summer nights, riding thru the hills was good, you always got a relief from the weather when you dipped down into the valleys. The sound of the engines echoed thru the valley. Like waves against the surf at Big Sur or a sudden thunder storm on a quiet evening. We rolled over the hills and around the curves.
We played road games. Seeing how fast we could go while curving in and out of the stipes, I liked that one, I still do it. I have a pic somewhere of me standing on the seat of my bike while going down the highway. Somewhere, there is a pic of Charles laying down on his 70 while riding the interstate at 70 mph. Times were different, we have changed but remained the same.
Some rides were lengthy, some were'nt. It did'nt matter, there was always tomorrow and another road. sometimes we would stop and talk before heading our separate ways, but more often than not we would yell at each other over the sound of the bikes, "later man, I'm tired", "see ya later, be careful".
The fog was setting in over Millcreek as Charles made his turn, rapping the throttle as he made his turn and disappeared into the mist. I pulled back on the throttle, patted my bike on the tank, and took a deep breath of early morning mist.
Charles on his 70 pulled into the car wash and switched off his engine. I sit there on my 75 FX and marveled at the Electraglide. He sure kept that bike clean and running in top condition, I thought to myself. The crackling of the engine started. We greeted each other with a "whats goin on" or a "where to tonight". It didnt matter, we were in no hurry, it was a cooler than normal summer night and it just felt good to be out. Out of the house, out to where we could ride off and put thoughts in perspective, where they should be, although really no where in particular. Meditation, thats what this is all about. I rode for meditation, and peace of mind.
We decided to ride the deserted streets of town first then head out into the country. On a road, could have been any road, we had ridden them all. The question was always "will it be curves or straights tonight?" We agreed on both and started up the bikes. The 70 roared to life with the push of a button, the 75 sometimes took a little coaxing, but it always started and joined in with the dresser.
We pulled out into the street going thru the gears and finally settling into a comfortable speed. Riding thru town, we listened to the sound of the pipes bouncing off the walls of the old stores and seeing reflections on glass.
Charles and I both felt the same about riding. Riding to us was a way of being in contact with what forces were out there, forces that no one can touch or talk to or hear, but can feel. Theres just something about riding a bike on a lonely stretch of highway on a summer night as it was, or any night or day for that matter. Its like following a trail that leads to nowhere in particular, a thread in the dark, one that pulls you along and talks to you as problems are forgotten and the ropes that bind you are cut.
We rode side by side, almost without exception, the sound of the two bikes resonating between us, a sound like no other. Its difficult to explain the feeling of exhileration and elation that comes with being one that enjoys the sound of two Harleys riding dark ribbons of highway, late at night. The sound of the bikes, the tires against the aspalt, the clanking of changing gears, its just absolute bliss.
Charles and I rode side by side so often it was almost as if we rode as one motorcycle. I usually rode the outside lane, next to the grass, Charles always took the inside. Why? I dont know, it just happened that way. As we came up on a left hand curve he would put on throttle, I would let off slightly, we would swing the curve. Then he would let off slightly while I gassed it and caught up. If there was a curve to the right, I took the lead, I would throttle while he let off and then played catch up. We did this so much, we knew we could trust each other to do what was expected.
On warm Summer nights, riding thru the hills was good, you always got a relief from the weather when you dipped down into the valleys. The sound of the engines echoed thru the valley. Like waves against the surf at Big Sur or a sudden thunder storm on a quiet evening. We rolled over the hills and around the curves.
We played road games. Seeing how fast we could go while curving in and out of the stipes, I liked that one, I still do it. I have a pic somewhere of me standing on the seat of my bike while going down the highway. Somewhere, there is a pic of Charles laying down on his 70 while riding the interstate at 70 mph. Times were different, we have changed but remained the same.
Some rides were lengthy, some were'nt. It did'nt matter, there was always tomorrow and another road. sometimes we would stop and talk before heading our separate ways, but more often than not we would yell at each other over the sound of the bikes, "later man, I'm tired", "see ya later, be careful".
The fog was setting in over Millcreek as Charles made his turn, rapping the throttle as he made his turn and disappeared into the mist. I pulled back on the throttle, patted my bike on the tank, and took a deep breath of early morning mist.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Wooly Hollow State Park
Have you ever been to Wooly Hollow? If you go North on Hwy 65 from Conway, go thru Greenbrier. As you continue North you'll see the familiar yellow and brown State Park sign on the right side of the road. Its shortly before the Hwy 25 turnoff to Quitman and Heber Springs.
Wooly hollow has a nice lake with a swimming area, boat rentals (no gas motors allowed),camping spots for tent and RV's with full hookups(with the cleanest restrooms I've ever seen in a Public Park), and a fast food place. I really like this park, it's shaded and its quiet. I wouldnt want to stay there in the heat of the summer with no A/C but Spring and Fall is nice.
The old Wooly homestead at the park.
This new old looking cabin is on the left going towards Wooly Hollow.
Like to play golf? Watch closely or you'll miss the sign, its on the left going towards the park. The last time I was there the sign was partially covered in bushes. Watch for a long straight road up to the ridge top. Hence the name, Persimmon Ridge Golf Course.
I went over the course with a borrowed golf cart but havent been back to play it, I liked the looks of it in the valley.
Wooly hollow has a nice lake with a swimming area, boat rentals (no gas motors allowed),camping spots for tent and RV's with full hookups(with the cleanest restrooms I've ever seen in a Public Park), and a fast food place. I really like this park, it's shaded and its quiet. I wouldnt want to stay there in the heat of the summer with no A/C but Spring and Fall is nice.
The old Wooly homestead at the park.
This new old looking cabin is on the left going towards Wooly Hollow.
Like to play golf? Watch closely or you'll miss the sign, its on the left going towards the park. The last time I was there the sign was partially covered in bushes. Watch for a long straight road up to the ridge top. Hence the name, Persimmon Ridge Golf Course.
I went over the course with a borrowed golf cart but havent been back to play it, I liked the looks of it in the valley.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Buffalo near Atkins
Have you ever seen a herd of Buffalo in Arkansas? I did today, but this was as close as I could get (until winter anyway, I don't like chiggers, ticks and copperheads). Big herd though, really pretty animals that looked healthy.
I was trying to get near the Buffalo when I found Oakland Cemetary with this huge Oak tree in it.
I was trying to get near the Buffalo when I found Oakland Cemetary with this huge Oak tree in it.
Floyd
Floyd, at the intersection of Hwy 31/305 is a small town, it has a gas station/store. It had some old buildings also. I took some pictures. The owners caught me in the act. I told them I was taking pictures for a calendar I was going to publish. They were happy that their old houses might be published :).
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