My motorcycle is my own personal time machine. It allows me to return to places I’ve visited in the past and reconnect with people that have earned special spots in my heart. Even when I’m headed off in a different direction and meeting new people, the memories of something once experienced, long ago, seem to be ever more deeply rooted in my heart and mind because of the motorcycle. Because of the adventure. Because of the enchantment that is only understood by those who travel on two wheels.
These were my thoughts I shared with other riders as a speaker at last summer’s Motorcycle Sport Touring Association’s STAR rally in Knoxville, Tennessee. As the rally ended, I pointed my BMW sport-touring bike in a northerly direction — the general direction of my Long Island, New York, home. It’s an 800-mile interstate burn, but you know that’s not my style. For the most part, I wanted to hit some of the great motorcycle roads in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
I made a quick 65-mile interstate blast to Bull’s Gap, where I picked up U.S. 321 — quite a wonderful motorcycling road itself. Route 321 takes you past Watauga Lake before it starts winding alongside the Watauga River. If you like riding great motorcycle roads, this one takes you to some of the Blue Ridge’s most famous motorcycling roads, such as the Snake and the Back of the Dragon.
U.S. 421, better known as the Snake, stretches across multiple states, with the most renowned section being between Boone, North Carolina, and Mountain City, Tennessee. Its serpentine-like curves and twists, running through the Cherokee National Forest, has become a favorite among motorcyclists and sports car drivers seeking thrilling rides and breathtaking scenery.
The Snake is an asphalt ribbon that slithers through the picturesque Appalachian Mountains like the reptile whose name it bears. Its challenging curves and elevation changes have contributed to its reputation as a top destination for those seeking an adrenaline-pumping ride. When you see curves-ahead sign on The Snake, take it seriously.
The route takes travelers through some of the most picturesque landscapes in the Appalachian Mountains, offering stunning views of the surrounding valleys and mountain ranges. Backbone Rock off nearby Route 91 is often referred to as “the shortest tunnel in the world.” No doubt it is one of the most photographed. Of course, I also had to make a photo stop.
One of my favorite features of the road must be its elevation changes. Riding it generates a real roller coaster feeling in the saddle. If you’re into riding great motorcycle roads, put these on your bucket list. I loved them. I’ll be back.
U.S. 421 runs out in Bristol, Virginia. From there I made a quick 44-mile interstate blast up to Marion. Not because I wanted to ride the slab, but because I had to make some time. I was heading up to meet my new friend, Bryan, on the Back of the Dragon, Virginia Route 16.
Route 16 is a truly epic and unforgettable experience. This iconic road is aptly named for the dragon-like curves and twists that await you. It’s an absolute paradise for motorcyclists who love carving up twisty roads.
The scenic beauty of the surrounding landscape is a constant companion throughout the journey, making the ride even more enjoyable and memorable. And distracting. Keep your eyes on the road. There are lots of scenic overlooks to safely take in the views. Despite the ominous appearance of the clouds, not a single drop of rain hit the ground during my run.
The southern section of the Back of the Dragon runs through Hungry Mother State Park, a beautiful piece of Appalachian parkland, situated on what was an essential transportation corridor in southwest Virginia for many years. It served as a vital link between the coalfields of Virginia and the rail lines. In later years the road’s scenic beauty and challenging curves quickly gained popularity among motorcycle riders and sports car enthusiasts.
My new friend Bryan is a semi-retired professional photographer who takes photographs of motorcyclists and sports car drivers who are “slaying the dragon.” His roadside perch is located at the apex of a tight switchback curve which immediately transitions into a challenging S-Curve.
In the process of hunting him down I apparently took my eyes off the road for a split second too long in a switchback and ran dangerously over the double yellow line. I was extremely fortunate that no one was coming in the opposite direction.
After chatting for a short time with my friend it was time to hit the road again. I took some secondary roads out of Virginia and up through the George Washington & Jefferson National Forest in West Virginia. Ninety-five miles later, I hit the intersection of I-64 and “slabbed it” the remaining 115 miles into Waynesboro, Virginia. Just under 500 miles for the day with a bunch of it on highly technical “hero roads.” Quite a day in the saddle, indeed. I’m shot.
Why Waynesboro? It goes against everything I look for on the road. It’s a big, thriving city of 23,000 people in the Commonwealth of Virginia. It has every major fast-food establishment you could possibly name and is located at the intersection of two major interstates: I-64 and I-81. Not my preferred type of rural environment by any stretch of the imagination, but Waynesboro is very biker-friendly
It has Silk Road, one of the finest Asian fusion restaurants I’ve ever eaten at. Hard to believe, I know. I discovered this place years ago during a long-distance adventure while riding great motorcycle roads. I figured “What the heck?” I was riding thousands of miles on a motorcycle, over all types of roads, in all kinds of weather, in all kinds of traffic. How much of a risk could eating raw fish in the Appalachians be?
Turns out it was some of the best sashimi I’ve ever sampled, and I’ve returned to this spot many times since that first accidental discovery. Bonus: Silk Road shares the same parking lot as a Days Inn. My kind of motel: simple, inexpensive, and the ability to park your motorcycle right outside the door to your room. If you happen to consume too much saki, you’re walking back to your room, not riding. Perfect.
After this grueling day riding great motorcycle roads I went to sleep early, but an unbroken stretch of slumber was not to be had. Around midnight, a new motel guest arrived at the room next door. He arrived on a big American V-twin touring bike with insanely loud pipes. This new arrival actually backed into his parking spot with those pipes facing the motel windows. He then went through a ritual of revving the throttle on the bike at least a dozen times before shutting it down. WTF?
I wrote it off right away to karma. After all, I rode nothing but American big twins with loud pipes for a period of almost 25 years. I used to be that guy revving my motor needlessly as I left my quiet neighborhood at 4 a.m. for no other reason but to call attention to yourself. It was midnight and it was payback time. Karma had arrived thundering at my doorstep. I was awake and didn’t want to be.
Might as well have some fun with this, I thought as I stepped outside my room and engaged the new arrival on a biker-to-biker level:
Me: “Having trouble with your bike, I see. So sorry, man. Anything I can do to help?”
Him: “No trouble. Bike is fine.”
Me: “Oh. (Long pause) I heard you revving the engine over and over again. I thought you were having trouble keeping it running.”
Him: (Speechless).
A new day arrived, and I found myself with a surprisingly righteous cup of coffee from the motel’s in-room brewing machine. I sipped the steaming beverage slowly as I glanced at weather radar images. I would discover the storms looked worse on the weather app than they did out on the highway. I stopped at the Maryland welcome center and peeled off my rain gear. The sun was out again. Game on.
After 12 days, eight states and 2,800 miles, I wheeled safely back into the driveway of my home. I’m already thinking about my next trip.
(Michael ONeill is the author of “Road Work: Images and Insights of a Modern Day Explorer” and founder of roadcraftusa.com.)
