The short days had my concern that I might have trouble getting there before sunset via the route that I picked out.   On a grand motorcycle such as the GoldWing you don’t just race down to your destination. The ride is the reason for the journey.  So with that in mind I peeled off of highway 75 onto highway 1 at McAlester and headed for the motorcycle famous Talimena Scenic Byway.  This scenic byway is a 56 mile gently twisted ribbon of road that I have enjoyed several times.  It winds along the crests of Winding Stair and Rich mountains linking Talihina, Oklahoma and Mena, Arkansas. Literally, about every third curve in this road a beautiful panoramic view opens before your eyes.  I broke out the camera.  This is motorcycling.  The spectacular view, the warm sun, the cool crisp Autumn air, the winding road.  Its hard to enjoy each aspect of the ride while maintaining some semblance of safety and control of the bike.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that on a road like this there is a fine line between enjoying the scenery or becoming a part of it.  I road on. 

   As gravity pulled the sun toward the western horizon I cut short my ride on the Talimena Drive by diving off at the halfway mark on highway 259 and headed south again into the heart of the Ouachita National Forest.  I asked a local how to pronounce Ouachita and he told me “washitah”.  The GoldWing and I reunited in an old familiar dance we have done countless times as we wound through the deep forest turn after turn.  It’s this time of day that, for me, arouses this insatiable inner yearning as I wind through the woods, the evening sun splashing through the trees, the cool Fall air on my face, the smell of inviting campfires, tasting the flavor of the forest. 

 

   With barely enough daylight left, to still call it daylight, I pulled into a small country store with a deli and picked up a made to order ham and cheese sandwich, chips, some Fig Newtons and a bottle of lemonade to wash it all down.  About two miles further  I was crossing the dam that holds back Broken Bow Lake.  What beautiful country. If I was not there in person knowing that I was in Oklahoma I would have guessed that someone dropped me in to the Kaniksu National Forest in Idaho.  Riding a bit deeper into the woods I found several quite adequate camping grounds that would suit my needs for the evening.

Broken Bow Lake, Oklahoma

    I unpacked my bike, and lazily set up my tent while chatting with nearby campers.  After eating my simple dinner which tasted extra good in that setting and being so hungry from my 252 mile dinner ride, I sat in my portable lawn chair and enjoyed the sounds of the evening forest while watching other weekend campers as the Dads fought with tent poles, and blew on fires and Moms would cook and children ran about and road bicycles.  My new neighbor for the evening, Scott, from Dallas sat down at my picnic table and we exchanged our stories.  He was there to fly fish.

   After I determined that I had squeezed every bit of enjoyment out of that day I decided to curl up in my little tent and enjoy the last sounds of the day before my sleepy head had its way.  I stretched my sweatshirt over my leather jacket for my pillow, crawled in my sleeping bag and the rest was, well, as they say, history. 

   I woke up at 5:30 a.m. because that is about the time I get up each morning but on this day it wouldn’t do any good.  Still to dark to ride.  I laid there and enjoyed the dark quiet forest till I fell back to sleep for another 2 hours. 

   FINALLY, the sun was bursting up from behind the mountains and the camps were all coming to life. It was time to ride again.  I packed up my gear on the bike, wished my new friends well and hopped on (I really should name my bike) and was on my way. 

   One quarter mile. That’s how far I made it before I had to pull over and snap more pictures. The morning sun took over right where it left off the evening before glancing off the leaves of the trees, reflecting off the lake and making each scene my eyes stopped on a potential postcard. 

   I explored several more campground areas, checked out the lodge, the marina and lingered another 45 minutes before I finally headed the bike out of the Beavers Bend Resort area and embarked on what was about to be a 10 hour 511 mile day of riding back roads and twisties. 

   I continued down 259 just long enough to reach the city of Broken Bow where I turned East on highway 70 toward Arkansas.  The pumpkin patches by the roadside and the decorated homes and churches reminded me of the Autumn season and that soon tiny ghosts, goblins and witches would rule the tiny towns for one night. 

   Now just let me interject one thing here.  One thing I never imagined I would say. One thing I never even gave one moment of thought to only to discover ..... the logging industry is alive and well in Oklahoma.  I saw more logging trucks that morning than I did during my 4 day trip to Idaho last Summer. 

   I slipped across the Arkansas border and found Dequeens to be the perfect little spot for one of my favorite rituals of a bike trip.  Breakfast.  I love eating at that special little Mom and Pop restaurant with the always huge portions of hash browns and over stuffed three egg ham and cheese omelets. 

   That pleasant little necessity behind me I was ready to start clicking off the miles.  That was, after all, the reason I was out there.  I caught 71 North out of Dequeens and snaked my way up to Mena, Arkansas which is the Arkansas entrance to the Talimena Drive.  As I rode right past the entrance to the byway my left hand was busy giving the bike wave to countless riders out this beautiful Fall day turning up that gateway toward what I knew would be a great day for them as well.  My plans called for another motorcycle Mecca called “The Pig Trail”. Don’t ask me why its called that but it’s on the sign. 

  I traversed on through the country as it changed scenes from forest to farm lands and cattle farms to prairies and valleys while I enjoyed surveying the country homes and small sleepy towns.  North of Waldron I turned on to the infamous highway 23.  I crossed under the I-40 viaduct, a striking contrast to the slow paced winding road I was following and one of the nations busiest transportation arteries. 

   Within a few more miles I was greeted by the National Forest Service’s sign welcoming me to the Pigtrail Scenic Byway. Once again within minutes my bike and I took up that familiar waltz. Once again every scene around every corner was worthy of a few snap shots from the camera.  Once again I was reminded of why I love to do this...  The sunshine, the cool air, the smell, the twisty roads, the GoldWing.