A small number of us gathered for breakfast in our usual spot before heading out to ride the ribbons of asphalt that make up our weekly attempt at social endeavor. Breakfast was rather uneventful and typical, so not much to say about that phase of the get-together. As I already mentioned, we had our first meal of the day at our usual haunt:
We decided to keep our riding close to home and kind of on the short side time wise because our club was scheduled to meet up with another chapter of Blue Knights later in the day. As a result of this scheduling issue, we elected to run one of our favorite local rides, which I have affectionately dubbed the "Country Roads Ride". This particular route stays very close to the more urban areas of our base while still offering up quiet one- and two-lane country roads.
With the route decided, we headed south out of town on SR 39 with yours truly in the lead. We made our way just south of SR 60 before turning east into the countryside via Old Hopewell Road and then south on Henry George Road.
Mere moments after turning onto Henry George Road something blew by me on my left side at a such a blurry, dizzying pace as to be almost unrecognizable. But, just as quickly as my confusion over what my eyes had seen had come upon me, it was dispelled by the sweet aroma of motorcycle exhaust; something akin to the bouquet of fine wine to we aficionados of all things motorcycling. Yes, that sweet smell wafting up through the vents in my helmet identified the passing blur as a 2009 Star V-Max in full-throttle acceleration. My vision quickly confirmed what my nose was telling me as I spotted Mr. Sarcasm disappearing into the horizon ahead of me as he whipped Max for all he was worth.
Hitting the end of Henry George Road, I turned the group south-by-southeast onto Keysville Road and then due east on Nichols Road until we turned south again onto Anderson Road.
The neat thing about Nichols Road is that it brings you into phosphate mine territory in very short order. As you get closer to the mines you see the rising berms that surround the mining areas and the many buildings and infrastructure components that support the mining operations. As you near the first large mine-related building on Nichols Road, you see some type of conveyor system crossing high above the roadway:
Just beyond that conveyor lies this large building that serves some unknown purpose in the process of mining phosphate:
Traveling south on Anderson Road you get a good view of an example of the berms that are constructed around the mining areas:
Gunny says "Hi" in this over-my-shoulder shot:
From Anderson Road we turned west and backtracked a couple of miles to Keysville Road where we once again turned south and headed into the really rural portions of this ride. You can see from this shot of Virgil Hall Road that this is some real country riding:
Running south again on Walter Hunter Road brings you to this great section of canopied and undulating roadway:
Out here in this little-known and somewhat isolated area, the cows outnumber the people by a considerable margin:
The road continues under oak tree canopy as it curves back to the north:
Not long after making that curve to the north, we stopped to take photos at a bridge that crosses a small creek. The creek is typical Florida wilderness fare and quite beautiful in its own right:
Some of the fellas were pretty excited to discover someone under the bridge:
No, it wasn't a troll (dang it!), just a country-boy doing some fishing in this small, meandering creek out in the Middle-of-Nowhere, Central, FL:
Country-boy fishing camp. Feel free to take notes if you feel so inclined:
Well, if it had been a troll, this is where it would call home:
The view of the other side of the creek:
I noticed this sign nailed to one of the trees along the creek bank:
Here's a closer look in case you can't quite make out what the sign says:
Now, just exactly what do you suppose there is to conduct video and audio surveillance of on a 24-hour basis out here in the middle-of-nowhere??? Maybe this is why no trolls choose to live under this particular bridge; after all, what self-respecting troll wants its privacy invaded like that?
While I made my inquiries and gathered the scintillating photos you see on these pages, the fellas were taking it easy topside on the bridge:
Another shot showing all of the riders (except me, of course) chilling out on the bridge:
I spotted this opportunity and couldn't resist staging the shot:
I think Gunny was telling a joke at this point:
(To the tune of Gilligan's Island): Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that ended in this redneck creek aboard a leaky canoe. The mate was drinking pull-tab beer, the skipper he was smashed. If not for the shallowness of the creek, all evidence would be lost, all evidence would be lost. The oar's aground on the bank of this uncharted country creek, with beer cans, and barb wire too; some flotsam and more debris; the tannic water, and the rest, here in redneck creek:
In case you can't quite see what I am singing about:
At the other end of the country road, where it nears the highway, several monstrous mansions have been built:
Mr. Sarcasm swapped rides with Bob for a spell:
This cross is located at the back of a pasture in the middle-of-nowhere for unknown reasons:
Eddie didn't make the rest of the loop with us, electing instead to wait for us at the bridge. Here he sits waiting for us as I approach on the return leg of the run:
Headed out of the woods and enjoying the roads just as much as on the way in:
The cows, the creek, the not-a-troll fisherman, the pasture cross, and the McMansions are all out there in those trees clustered along the horizon:
Fences that high mean only one thing...DEER!!! Every motorcyclist's nightmare is hitting one of those forest rats; a good reason to keep your speed down and your eyes open when riding in the boondocks:
That's it for this ride report. Not long after the fences we were back in civilization and heading our separate ways to finish out our Saturday in whatever fashion we deemed appropriate.
We decided to keep our riding close to home and kind of on the short side time wise because our club was scheduled to meet up with another chapter of Blue Knights later in the day. As a result of this scheduling issue, we elected to run one of our favorite local rides, which I have affectionately dubbed the "Country Roads Ride". This particular route stays very close to the more urban areas of our base while still offering up quiet one- and two-lane country roads.
With the route decided, we headed south out of town on SR 39 with yours truly in the lead. We made our way just south of SR 60 before turning east into the countryside via Old Hopewell Road and then south on Henry George Road.
Mere moments after turning onto Henry George Road something blew by me on my left side at a such a blurry, dizzying pace as to be almost unrecognizable. But, just as quickly as my confusion over what my eyes had seen had come upon me, it was dispelled by the sweet aroma of motorcycle exhaust; something akin to the bouquet of fine wine to we aficionados of all things motorcycling. Yes, that sweet smell wafting up through the vents in my helmet identified the passing blur as a 2009 Star V-Max in full-throttle acceleration. My vision quickly confirmed what my nose was telling me as I spotted Mr. Sarcasm disappearing into the horizon ahead of me as he whipped Max for all he was worth.
Hitting the end of Henry George Road, I turned the group south-by-southeast onto Keysville Road and then due east on Nichols Road until we turned south again onto Anderson Road.
The neat thing about Nichols Road is that it brings you into phosphate mine territory in very short order. As you get closer to the mines you see the rising berms that surround the mining areas and the many buildings and infrastructure components that support the mining operations. As you near the first large mine-related building on Nichols Road, you see some type of conveyor system crossing high above the roadway:
Just beyond that conveyor lies this large building that serves some unknown purpose in the process of mining phosphate:
Traveling south on Anderson Road you get a good view of an example of the berms that are constructed around the mining areas:
Gunny says "Hi" in this over-my-shoulder shot:
From Anderson Road we turned west and backtracked a couple of miles to Keysville Road where we once again turned south and headed into the really rural portions of this ride. You can see from this shot of Virgil Hall Road that this is some real country riding:
Running south again on Walter Hunter Road brings you to this great section of canopied and undulating roadway:
Out here in this little-known and somewhat isolated area, the cows outnumber the people by a considerable margin:
The road continues under oak tree canopy as it curves back to the north:
Not long after making that curve to the north, we stopped to take photos at a bridge that crosses a small creek. The creek is typical Florida wilderness fare and quite beautiful in its own right:
Some of the fellas were pretty excited to discover someone under the bridge:
No, it wasn't a troll (dang it!), just a country-boy doing some fishing in this small, meandering creek out in the Middle-of-Nowhere, Central, FL:
Country-boy fishing camp. Feel free to take notes if you feel so inclined:
Well, if it had been a troll, this is where it would call home:
The view of the other side of the creek:
I noticed this sign nailed to one of the trees along the creek bank:
Here's a closer look in case you can't quite make out what the sign says:
Now, just exactly what do you suppose there is to conduct video and audio surveillance of on a 24-hour basis out here in the middle-of-nowhere??? Maybe this is why no trolls choose to live under this particular bridge; after all, what self-respecting troll wants its privacy invaded like that?
While I made my inquiries and gathered the scintillating photos you see on these pages, the fellas were taking it easy topside on the bridge:
Another shot showing all of the riders (except me, of course) chilling out on the bridge:
I spotted this opportunity and couldn't resist staging the shot:
I think Gunny was telling a joke at this point:
(To the tune of Gilligan's Island): Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip, that ended in this redneck creek aboard a leaky canoe. The mate was drinking pull-tab beer, the skipper he was smashed. If not for the shallowness of the creek, all evidence would be lost, all evidence would be lost. The oar's aground on the bank of this uncharted country creek, with beer cans, and barb wire too; some flotsam and more debris; the tannic water, and the rest, here in redneck creek:
In case you can't quite see what I am singing about:
At the other end of the country road, where it nears the highway, several monstrous mansions have been built:
Mr. Sarcasm swapped rides with Bob for a spell:
This cross is located at the back of a pasture in the middle-of-nowhere for unknown reasons:
Eddie didn't make the rest of the loop with us, electing instead to wait for us at the bridge. Here he sits waiting for us as I approach on the return leg of the run:
Headed out of the woods and enjoying the roads just as much as on the way in:
The cows, the creek, the not-a-troll fisherman, the pasture cross, and the McMansions are all out there in those trees clustered along the horizon:
Fences that high mean only one thing...DEER!!! Every motorcyclist's nightmare is hitting one of those forest rats; a good reason to keep your speed down and your eyes open when riding in the boondocks:
That's it for this ride report. Not long after the fences we were back in civilization and heading our separate ways to finish out our Saturday in whatever fashion we deemed appropriate.
1 comment:
Loved the photos and the commentary...esp loved the 3 monkeys.
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