For riders who want to carve continual curves through forests, along rivers, and past farms, you won’t find better roads in so focused an area than in the southeast corner of Ohio. The landscape of constantly rising and falling hills results in roller coaster roads that will have you laughing with joy. The rush from blind rises, off-camber curves, and decreasing-radius corners is never-ending. Add abundant wildlife, farm vehicles, and the occasional Amish buggy to the equation and you quickly realize how crucial it is to stay laser-focused on the task at hand.

Scan the QR codes above or click here for Day 1 or here for Day 2

With the benefit of routes created and inspired by Ed Conde of New England Riders, many riders from the Northeast and Canada make the trek south to savor these roads. The small, historic city of Marietta on the bank of the Ohio River is an ideal base of operations for a tour of this region. We found multiple options for lodging, a lively downtown with a variety of great restaurants and pubs, and even a motorcycle shop that will come in handy if your tires lose tread faster than expected.

Get travel, lodging, dining, and other information about Marietta, Ohio, here.

See all of Rider‘s Ohio touring stories here.

Our group of experienced sport-touring riders, including my good friends Steve Efthyvoulou, Randy Palmer, and Bob Holahan, confirmed a plan over breakfast and then began our day heading north and east of Marietta on Ohio State Route 821. Beyond Whipple, a right on Dalzell Road had us winding through forested hills. The constant elevation changes could be a cartographer’s worst nightmare, but they’re a motorcyclist’s dream come true. Our group was connected via bike-to-bike intercom, which enabled the lead rider to offer helpful warnings:

Wow, this curve tightens fast!

Watch for gravel in that right hander.

The road drops left after that blind rise … weeee!

At State Route 565, we turned right, curved past Zwick Park, then headed south on State Route 260 through Quarry and to New Matamoras. The curves were incredible! At State Route 7, we turned left toward the township of Fly, then left on State Route 800 back up into the hills. Beyond Jackson Ridge Church, we turned right on State Route 255 to Laings, then stayed on 255 back to Sardis and Route 7.

Request a Windy 9 Ohio motorcycle route map here.

Route 7 is designated the Ohio River Scenic Byway. Scenic, yes, but it’s mostly flat and lacks challenging curves. However, it was useful for taking us to the next incredibly curvy road up into the hills: State Route 536 in Hannibal. A short diversion onto Long Ridge Road and Short Ridge Road brought us up to Kiedaisch Point Park. From there we enjoyed the vista overlooking the Hannibal Locks and the bridge crossing the Ohio River to New Martinsville, West Virginia.

With our stomachs signaling lunch, we decided to cross that bridge and found Quinet’s Restaurant. The buffet is extensive, and an impressive display of local history covers the walls of this New Martinsville institution. Appetites satisfied, we crossed back into Ohio and picked up State Route 536 all the way to State Route 78, where turning right put us on a parallel track with Sunfish Creek, which meanders and then widens before emptying into the Ohio River at Clarington. Route 7 sent us to State Route 556 where we turned to enjoy more curves all the way to Beallsville and State Route 145.

At Jerusalem, a left pointed us south on State Route 26, the National Forest Covered Bridge Scenic Byway. For most of its length, the byway parallels the Little Muskingum River, and we happened upon Rinard Covered Bridge. It’s the third covered bridge to be constructed on this location, the original dating to 1875. On these winding southeastern Ohio roads, shoulders vary from narrow to nonexistent, so this stop was noteworthy because it was a chance to pull safely off the road to shoot photographs. Continuing on Route 26 provided us miles of smiles back to Marietta.

The mental focus required to follow all these curves, coupled with the physical demands of countersteering and shifting body position on heavy sport-tourers, had us feeling tired at the end of the day. After returning to Marietta, we walked to Tampico Mexican Restaurant and rehashed a fantastic day over a relaxed meal and a pitcher of margaritas.

Your humble scribe is an early riser, so the next morning as the sky began to lighten, I set out to explore more of downtown Marietta. Reading the many historical signs, I learned that pioneers established the town in 1788 as the first permanent white settlement of the United States Territory Northwest of the River Ohio. Many original settlers were Revolutionary War officers who were offered land grants as compensation for military service. Artisans from my native New England also settled here, bringing with them skills that helped Marietta quickly become a center for shipbuilding. Between 1800 and 1812, nearly 30 ocean-going vessels were built here in eight shipyards.

Another piece of riverfront history is the place where we stayed, the Lafayette Hotel (c. 1918). Inside, the hotel’s lobby feels like a formal parlor. Realtors might describe the rooms as “quaint” and “cozy,” with the period furnishings and fixtures including styles long forgotten by interior designers. Our tidy room overlooked the Ohio River, the Highland Avenue Bridge, and lovely riverside homes on the opposite riverbank in Williamstown, West Virginia. Even the parking area for our bikes overlooked the river. Modern-day riverboats still dock at that very spot, as one did during our stay, so it’s fitting that this lodging retains the feel of the riverboat era.

After breakfast at the hotel, our group was ready for another day behind the handlebars. Since any road is different in the opposite direction, we began by reversing course on one of our favorites from the day before, Route 26. The weather was perfect, and we enjoyed glimpses of the scenery when we could divert our attention briefly from the curvaceous road. In Woodsfield, we found Ida’s Lunchbox, which other riders had recommended, and enjoyed a light lunch and conversation, while a farmer at the next table listened attentively to the agriculture report on TV.

We continued on 26 to Jerusalem, turned west on State Route 145, kept twisting southwesterly along Duck Creek to Lewisville, and then took State Route 724 west to Carlisle. A different stretch of Route 260 wound us south along East Fork Duck Creek to Harriettsville. Just past town, we turned right on State Route 564 and began to follow Middle Fork Duck Creek to Caldwell. State Route 78 took us out of town and curved to a highlight of the day: Big Muskie Bucket, the business end of one of the largest machines ever to move on land.

Big Muskie was a walking dragline designed to remove earth and uncover a coal seam that lay 180 feet below the surface. This colossal machine was electric, powered by a 13,000-volt “extension cord,” and so enormous it’s hard to wrap your brain around the scale. It was 1.5 times longer than a football field, more than 222 feet tall, and weighed 12,000 tons. The bucket, which weighs 210 tons when empty, could grab 325 tons of earth in a single “bite” and hold 220 cubic yards. In 1969, the entire Morgan High School Marching Band, nearly 50 members strong, played inside the bucket at Big Muskie’s inaugural ceremonies. By 1991, more efficient mining methods and increasingly stringent environmental regulations sidelined Big Muskie. Now the bucket is all that remains, rusting away in a park on Route 78 near Bristol.

We briefly reversed course on 78 to State Route 83 and headed south for gentler curves down to Beverly. There, a left on State Route 339 moved us into farm country and past Crooked Tree. A right on State Route 821 had us paralleling Duck Creek through Macksburg, Elba, and Warner. A right on State Route 530 delivered the day’s last dose of twisties down to Lowell, where leisurely State Route 60 returned us to Marietta.

One thing we had missed thus far was a ferry ride, so we made a quick run up Route 7 to the Sistersville Ferry, which has carried people across the Ohio River between Fly, Ohio, and Sistersville, West Virginia, for over two centuries. Several types of ferry have been used throughout the company’s history, and the one currently in use is a type none of us had seen before. Vehicles drive onto a ferry barge, which is propelled through the water by a tug. The barge is double-ended so it doesn’t have to change direction with each river crossing, but the tug needs to turn around after each landing. The tug’s bow is attached to the barge’s side via a pivoting mechanism that resembles an automotive trailer hitch. When the ferry reaches the other side, the captain simply pivots the tug 180 degrees to cross the other way. Pretty slick.

After the ferry, we made our way back to Marietta, where our dinner spot was a short stroll through Ohio Riverfront Park to Levee House Bistro for, of all things, lobster – prepared by a chef from Boston no less!

Find info about the Triple Nickel and Zanesville-Muskingum County, Ohio, here.

Commitments back home had us heading east the next morning, but we plan to return to this region for more great riding. To the north is State Route 555, the renowned “Triple Nickel” (see Ken Frick’s story “Riding Ohio’s Triple Nickel”). To the west are gentler curves leading to Hocking Hills State Park, where riders can enjoy some of Ohio’s best scenery and stretch their legs on short hikes. The hilly landscape is much the same on the West Virginia side of the Ohio River, with roads such as West Virginia State Route 20 from New Martinsville to Mannington and U.S. Route 250 from Mannington to Moundsville, keeping riders on their toes and making joyful noises.

If you prefer roller coaster rides that you control, a motorcyclist’s amusement park awaits you in southeastern Ohio.  

At first glance the small farming town of Posen, which is situated along State Route 65 in northeastern Michigan and hosts an annual Potato Festival, doesn’t appear to be a logical meet-up spot to kick off a daylong motorcycle tour. But the Route 65 Diner offers up classic breakfast and lunch fare, the nearby Posen EZ Mart is a convenient place to fill up, and the village is near Lake Huron, the second largest of the Great Lakes, so it’s perfect starting point for a Lake Huron lighthouses loop.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

This scenic route through the northeast corner of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula is about 180 miles and provides a leisurely day of riding with stops for sightseeing and food. It offers unique historical sites, lighthouses, shipwrecks, wildlife sanctuaries, parks and beaches on Lake Huron, and paved roads through deep timber forests.

The ride is best done between Memorial Day and Labor Day but could be done earlier in the spring or later in the fall depending on the weather. We took our ride in September. 

See all of Rider‘s touring stories here.

About 5 miles north of Posen, Route 65 dead-ends at U.S. Route 23, which runs along the edge of Lake Huron’s Michigan shore from Mackinaw City to Saginaw. We headed east on Route 23 and soon entered Thompson’s Harbor State Park. We turned onto Old State Road, followed it to the end, and went north on East Grand Lake Road, which took us onto a narrow peninsula that juts into Lake Huron between North Bay and Presque Isle Bay.

On the right, we saw the Old Presque Isle Lighthouse, which was built in 1840. Due to the harsh weather on Lake Huron, the original lighthouse deteriorated, and the New Presque Isle Lighthouse was built in 1870 farther north near the end of the peninsula. Standing 113.5 feet tall, it is one of the tallest lighthouses on the Great Lakes. Both lighthouses have been restored and are part of a 99-acre park that includes a playground, picnic area, pavilion, gift shop, museum, and nature trails.

Adjacent to the New Presque Isle Lighthouse is a keeper’s house that was built in 1905 and is now a museum. Admission is free, but we paid $5 to climb the 130 steps to the top of the lighthouse for excellent views of Lake Huron and the Presque Isle area. The buildings and grounds are open to the public daily from mid-May through mid-October.

We returned to U.S. Route 23 and rode south, finding a few curves along the edges of Grand Lake and Long Lake, which are just inland from Lake Huron. We made our way to Alpena, a town of about 10,000 residents that sits on the northern shore of Thunder Bay. Nearby are two lighthouses, but they are out in the lake on islands and only accessible by boat. 

The Thunder Bay National Marine Sanctuary protects an area of Lake Huron known as “Shipwreck Alley” where there have been more than 100 historically significant shipwrecks. Some of the wrecks are close enough to the surface for sightseeing, which we did on a two-hour shipwreck tour on a glass-bottom boat called the Lady Michigan. We also visited the Great Lakes Maritime Heritage Center, a museum with exhibits and pieces of boats that washed ashore.

When we left the museum, the Royal Enfield and Triumph riders in our group insisted we check out a British tavern in downtown Alpena called the Black Sheep Pub. It is decorated with British flags and memorabilia, and the menu includes rich and tasty pub grub like fish and chips, a pork burger drizzled with vinegar, Scotch eggs, and pickled chips.

After lunch, we continued south on Route 23 through parts of Thunder Bay River State Forest, Au Sable State Forest, and Huron National Forest. This is chainsaw country. In Ossineke, we passed colorful concrete statues of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox built in the 1940s by Paul Domke, who also built the creatures in the nearby Dinosaur Gardens Prehistoric Zoo.

South of Alcona, we visited Sturgeon Point Lighthouse, which was built in 1870. The 70-foot lighthouse is maintained by the U.S. Coast Guard and is open to the public. The keeper’s house is a maritime museum open from Memorial Day to mid-September.

At Harrisville, the Harley and Indian riders in our group made it known that it was time for some American food. We rode west on State Route 72 into the heart of Huron National Forest and then turned north on State Route 65 to Curran. Just north of town, we stopped at the Lunch Block and had a proper lumberjack breakfast.

Full from our hearty meal, we further compressed the suspension of our motorcycles and continued north on Route 65 through a section of forest so dense that no paved roads cross to the east. Werth Road finally appeared and provided a paved route with a few curves back to Alpena. Alternatively, you can continue north on 65 and turn east on State Route 32.

Just north of Alpena, past the wildlife sanctuary, we picked up Long Rapids Road, which meanders along the Thunder Bay River heading northwest to the town of Bolton. We continued north on Bolton Road, then west on Long Lake Highway, and finally back onto Route 65 for our return to Posen.

If Michigan is in your motorcycle travel plans, check out the northeastern part of the state near the Lake Huron shore. The roads provide scenic views of the lake and some mellow curves and hills, and the lighthouses and historic sites are a nice diversion when it’s time to stretch your legs.

The WisconsinHighways.org website’s State Trunk Highways section says: “One of the noticeable idiosyncrasies is the meandering nature of some of Wisconsin’s state highways. Just pick one of the state’s longer routes, and more than likely you will find many extended stretches concurrently designated with other highways and some meandering behavior.” I like highways that meander. My favorite ride includes State Highways 32, 47, 52, and 55. It’s not the Smoky Mountains, but it has some of the best motorcycle roads in Wisconsin.

Scan QR code above or click here to view the route on REVER

This route is a figure-8, and I prefer to start at the top in Laona. The Shell station there has ethanol-free 91-octane gas and Trig’s beef sticks. Fuel for both the bike and me is a good way to begin the ride, and several stops for both are available along the route.

I head west on U.S. Route 8 toward Crandon. It’s a sunny, pleasant day, but with haze in the air. The faint smell of smoke rolls over the windshield. News reports say it’s from large wildfires in Ontario. It occurs to me that I have not been to Canada in 10 years, and that’s way too long. Hopefully someday soon crossing the border will be easy, Covid will be under control, and the fires will be out.

These are some of the straightest highways of the trip, and I turn up the wick on my old Twin Cam to get to the curves. I have owned a variety of bikes over the years and toured on all of them – a Honda Gold Wing, a Suzuki V-Strom, a Yamaha FJR1300 – but I always seem to have a Harley around. It’s a Wisconsin thing.

Outside of town, I enter green hardwood forests. Many are part of the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, which limits development and provides opportunities for nature viewing with minimal human intrusion. I am approaching the Forest County Potawatomi Community, enjoying the rolling hills and views from the tops of those hills. This section of U.S. 8 lies about a mile from Sugarbush Hill, the third highest point in Wisconsin.

The small city of Crandon provides another opportunity for food, fuel, and lodging, but I’m in a hurry. I roll through town and pick up Highway 55 south and cruise toward Mole Lake. The pavement is in nice shape with wide shoulders and a few gentle curves, but this is an agricultural and residential area that keeps the road relatively straight. The highway continues through the Sokaogon Chippewa Community, which has a casino and anything else a traveler might need.

I’m on a mission, because when I clear Mole Lake, I’ll enter Langlade County. The road changes. I can feel the curves and elevation changes. The forest closes around the road with a lot of nice 40-50 mph sweepers. This continues toward the town of Pickerel, where the road opens back up into an agricultural area and we see the Wolf River for the first time. The back-and-forth change of scenery continues for miles as we pass through the small town of Lily, the middle junction of the figure-8.

The smell of fresh-cut hay pushes out the smell of wildfire haze. The V-Twin continues to thump along at a nice cadence. I gradually slow coming into Langlade, and get a closer look at the Wolf River, which parallels Highway 55 all the way to Keshena. The number of curves increases as the road follows the path of the river.

Crossing the Menominee County line, the road changes dramatically for the better. The Menominee tribe has been managing their land for sustainable timber for around 150 years. The mature trees are allowed to grow right up to the shoulder of the highway and canopy over in some places. The mix of curves, the views of the Wolf River, and the feeling of riding right through the forest are the best parts of this ride. This is what I’ve been waiting for, and I enjoy leaning the old Ultra back and forth all the way to Keshena Falls, which is the bottom of the figure-8.

Taking a right onto Highway 47, I ride in a northwesterly direction. The curves aren’t as spectacular, but I’m still enjoying the area’s scenery. I run through a few more areas of shaded canopy and bend around the backwaters of the Neopit Mill Pond. Returning to Langlade County is like riding out of a forest tunnel and into the neatly organized fields of traditional Wisconsin dairy farms.

The road opens as I sail up through Phlox into Antigo, the largest city on the route with plenty of opportunities to stop. I like to take old Highway 52 past the hospital and city parks and into the large orderly fields of the Antigo Flats. This is the home of Antigo Silt Loam, the official state soil of Wisconsin. Highway 52 has 90-degree curves along the boundaries of dairy and potato farms. The highway climbs out of the flats into the Kettlebowl area, which has a volunteer-run ski hill and the only “Caution Steep Grade” signs of the ride. The climb up the south side of the Kettlebowl is rough, but the pavement coming down is new and smooth.

The broad curves continue into the town of Lily, where we cross the center of the figure-8 again and turn north onto Highway 52. The path is wonderful, but the pavement in this area is a decade or two beyond its service life, so I keep speeds mellow for safety. The road follows 90-degree curves for a few miles through the community of Freeman. Folks are still farming here, but with much smaller operations than in Antigo. Highway 52 terminates at Highway 32 just west of Wabeno, and the ride is almost over. I aim north and relax a little on the wider, straight highway on the return to Laona.

I experienced great roads, sights, and smells, as well as diverse settings, bends, curves, hills, and even a little bit of sunburn. It’s hard to beat a day spent meandering on a motorcycle.

Minnesota, the Land of 10,000 Lakes, is ranked 12th among U.S. states in terms of land area but 9th in terms of water within its borders. This favorite ride visits the largest – Lake Superior – and others in a 200-mile loop that starts and ends in Duluth and has Ely at its northernmost point.

This simple day ride has evolved. I’ve ridden it at least once a summer for more than 30 years, starting with a 1978 BMW R100, then a 1981 BMW R80GS, and currently a 2007 BMWR1200R. Just as those bikes have changed, so has the road.

Scan QR code above to view route on REVER, or click here

It’s not my favorite ride, either. I don’t have a favorite ride, other than the next one. This is because every time I ride, I feel noticeably better. For me, there is nothing like the calming, clarifying effect of self-directed motion, and riding a motorcycle might be the richest delivery system for obtaining this benefit ever devised. So, commute riding to work, or around this loop, it’s all the same. Every ride is my favorite ride.

Check out more of Rider‘s Favorite Rides

Starting from Duluth, at Canal Park, proceed along the North Shore of Lake Superior on State Route 61 to Two Harbors. Turn left and start riding due north on County Road 2. (Alternatively, you can ride farther up the shore, and a few miles past Silver Bay you’ll come to Illgen City, which isn’t actually a city, or even a town or village. It’s just a T-intersection where State Route 1 begins. There you turn left.)

The ride is fairly flat along the North Shore, but it climbs as it heads inland, and soon you are surrounded by a second-generation forest of Norway pine, white birch, alder, and spruce. It’s as remote and empty-feeling a forest landscape as you’ll find anywhere in Alaska, Canada, or Siberia.

After heading north for 46 miles, County Road 2 dead-ends at Route 1. Hang a left toward Ely. Wildlife you might encounter includes white-tailed deer, moose, timber wolves, black bears, beavers, racoons, squirrels, loons, blackbirds, bald eagles, and a variety of ducks, geese, grouse, and partridge. Human encounters will be loggers driving big trucks, fishermen carrying rooftop canoes, occasional lumbering motorhomes, and a few Subaru-driving campers and hikers. There’s also a thin smattering of settlers and a couple little roadhouse bars.

This old Route 1 has evolved. Back in the 1980s, its asphalt surface was shoulderless, rough, narrow, and already worn out, with plenty of tight 15-25 mph banked and closely linked corners which were fun to try at 30-45 mph. It was like a bumpier, frost-damaged version of the Tail of the Dragon, with enough kinks, tight corners, and expansion heaves to make any hard-ridden bike’s shocks and tires a little warm. Back then, this road was so tight, and for such long stretches, it was a great training area for young riders wanting to improve their skills. The mature forest whizzed by only a few feet from your elbows and knees, greatly adding to the sensation of speed. Boy, was it ever fun. No time to lollygag by looking into narrow clearings flashing by, or across the numerous small lakes, streams, and ponds, hoping to spot exotic wildlife. Nope, I’ve never seen a single moose up there, or a wolf, yet that is where a bunch of them are known to live. Eyes on the road.

Not much of that fun old stretch of highway remains today. Most of it has been improved and widened to modern standards for the convenience and safety of loggers, fisherman, tourists, and locals. It’s still all scenic and curvy, but now it’s dozens of smoothly linked, higher-speed sweepers, and most of the sides include nice shoulders with decent runoffs. Those unyielding rocks and trees of the primordial forest are now at least 10 to 12 feet away from your elbows. Thanks, MnDOT. Well done. You’ve transformed a hillbilly hooligan-rider’s haven into a delightful sport-touring and touring rider’s experience.

The apogee of this loop is the city of Ely, famous partly for mining but mostly as a jump-off point for canoe trippers wanting to paddle the endless lakes and rivers of the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness and explore Voyageurs National Park. With a little portaging here and there, you can just about paddle all the way to the Rockies, and in the 1700s lots of hard men did just that to trade with the natives for beaver pelts, which were in great fashion-demand across Europe then.

You can purchase locally handmade moose-hide mukluks, choppers, custom canoe paddles, and all kinds of gallery artwork and camping gear in Ely, so allow some walkabout time. There’s also a park, a theater, camping, motels, and cottages if you are inclined to linger overnight. Delicious sit-down meals are offered at several nice joints. You can choose from two brands of gasoline and even buy the no-ethanol premium most older bikes like best. The vibe is Western ski town without mountains, just an endless, roadless wilderness of lakes and forests as far as you can dream. Or paddle.

To get back to Duluth, ride west through Ely on Route 1, turn left (south) on S. Central Avenue (County Road 21), and ride about 30 miles to the town of Embarrass. Just to the west, turn south again on State Route 135. Follow signs for Aurora via CSAH (County State Aid Highway) 100, and continue to County Road 4, known as the Vermilion Trail, which was first cut as an overland pack-horse wagon trail into this canoe country. At intervals are several worn little iron-mining towns, a scattering of hardscrabble survival settlers, and a few more always-welcoming taverns. Before you know it, you’re back in the mini metropolis of Duluth.

I arrive in Duluth, Minnesota, in the middle of the night, welcomed by a cleansing wind blowing off Lake Superior, the largest of the Great Lakes. The West had been ablaze for weeks when I’d departed California two days before, and smoke from those massive fires had gathered, unasked, across the Plains to form a thick, murky blanket. My eyes and throat are still burning as I hobble, ass whipped, from my BMW R 1200 GS to my waiting hotel room.

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I’ve just started on a 6-week ride and my first official stop is a visit to the Aerostich factory to catch up with my old friend, Andy Goldfine. Andy and I go back to the mid-80s when we were starting in the motorcycle industry, him as the founder of Aerostich and me as an associate editor at Rider. I zipped up my first Roadcrafter the day we met and have since appreciated no gear – or friendship in the business – more.

Listen to our interview with Andy Goldfine on the Rider Magazine Insider Podcast

Duluth has always charmed me with its terraced streets and historic port town vibe. Spending a day off the bike here is a joy. I’m able to hang out at Aerostich and watch as suits are cut and stitched. Some would call this a factory, but it’s much more like a workshop where skilled technicians craft riding apparel.

After enjoying a classic biker breakfast the next morning at the Duluth Grill with Andy and his “most curmudgeonly riding friend” John Grinsel, an 80-something-year-old character who rides up to 20,000 miles each year with a pipe in his mouth and a tiny pup named Moose poking out of his top box, I’m back in the saddle of the GS heading north around the edge of the world’s largest freshwater lake.

The Greatest Lake

Behaving more like an inland sea than a lake, Superior is massive, holding 10% of the world’s fresh surface water. It and the other Great Lakes to the east are so dynamic they create their own weather patterns. Today, I’m riding through a Scotch mist I’m not sure I can blame on the lake, and it’s giving my finger squeegee a workout.

I’m riding a loaner R 1200 GS Rallye edition I’ve had for seven months. I’ll never get enough of the GS bikes, and over three decades I’ve used them to explore five continents. Having been one of BMW’s flagship models for four decades, the “big” GS was legitimately the first travel bike to be truly versatile, but what I find most endearing is the way the chatty boxer Twin feels like an old friend every time I fire one up. It’s a pleasant bike to ride anywhere, including roads like Minnesota’s super scenic State Route 61 along the North Shore.

By the time I reach Grand Marais, it’s clearly storming hard to the north, and I retreat back down the highway, ducking into the famous Betty’s Pies for a slice and a coffee. I love this place, and if I weren’t on a bike, in the rain, I’d take an entire 5 Layer Chocolate Cream Pie to go.

Early the next morning, the sun is out and I’m in Wisconsin exploring the bottom edge of Superior. While I’d traveled to the top of the lake a few years back, the southern section was a mystery. I throttle the GS up Wisconsin’s Lake Superior Scenic Byway, State Route 13, connecting fishing villages to waterfalls to sandy beaches and orchards.

The Road to Pictured Rocks

I want to shoot up Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula to Copper Harbor on U.S. Route 41, and not just because the road looks amazing on the map. I’ve heard there are monks who bake delicious treats and sell preserves they make from local fruit at The Jampot bakery. But I’m short on time and even shorter on tires. The Continental TKC80s I opted for seven months back now have more than 6,500 miles on them and my replacements are waiting at a dealership 700 miles away, which means limiting side trips.

So, I head from Ashland, Wisconsin, straight for Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore on the recommendation to ride County Road H-58. And wow, what a sweet road. I hear it was even more fun to ride before it was fully paved in 2010, but today the 69 miles of smooth shaded corners and flowing undulations ride like a song. And for the other senses? The beautiful lake up here is edged by colorful sandstone cliffs and unspoiled sandy coves.

When you’re on an adventure bike, another thing to love about Michigan is its more than 3,100 miles of off-road vehicle trails, proudly documented and promoted on the state government’s website, and on Pure Michigan, a site sponsored by Michigan’s lead economic development agency. How civilized for these Midwestern states to celebrate their off-roading opportunities instead of quashing them.

But you hardly need a map to find a tempting two-track here, which is the reason I’m not making good time on Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, but finally I’m at the famous Mackinac Bridge, gearing up to ride its five swaying miles to the Lower Peninsula. Yup, Big Mac is one of the longest suspension bridges in the world and it’s built to swing (apparently, up to 35 feet at its center span), and on a windy day, you can feel it, as I did when I crossed it years back on a Harley Ultra Glide Classic.

Especially in Michigan

But today it’s only breezy, and purring across the impressive bridge on the GS is a joy. I don’t have time to stop in touristy Mackinaw City because I want to ride some small roads I’d missed on my last trip, starting with M-119 from Cross Village to Harbor Springs, aka the Tunnel of Trees.

I approach from the north, stopping at the historic Polish-themed Legs Inn in Cross Village where you can spend hours taking in all the details of wood and stonework, or if you’re hungry, enjoy some kielbasa and pierogi. The famous 20-mile section of M-119 that kicks off from here is narrow, curvy, and truly a tunnel of foliage, and I’m sure its beauty is staggering in the fall, but it loses points as a premium motorcycle road for its 35-mph speed limit and profusion of deer and driveways. Still, those 137 corners are a lovely way to spend time.

After an overnight in Petoskey, I head for Traverse City and M-22. If there’s one thing that’s undeniable about these Midwestern states, especially their more rural areas, it’s how genuinely nice the people are. Everywhere you go. The M-22 is recommended to me by a new friend, and I take my time exploring Suttons Bay, Northport, and the Leelanau Peninsula’s pretty lakes, all miniatures next to a hulking Lake Michigan.

In Glen Arbor, I indulge in house-made cherry ice cream at the original Cherry Republic and slip a jar of cherry salsa in a saddlebag for later. I do not partake in the pit spitting at the establishment’s Olympic-size cherry spitting pit (the world record is 93 feet, 6.5 inches).

In addition to gorgeous views of the lake and rolling farmland, this part of Michigan has local wines to taste, dunes to explore, and apples to pick. The longer I spend on M-22, the more I realize it’s not just a road to the people in this area, M-22 represents a lifestyle. In fact, the M-22 highway signs have been stolen so often – 90 signs in three years – the Michigan DOT dropped the M on some replacements so they show only the number 22. If you missed your chance to nab a sign, there are plenty of places along the highway where you can buy a fake, as well as upscale M-22 apparel and souvenir tchotchkes.

And I get it. There’s something about this area (the people? the chill vibe? the scenery?) that just makes you want to stick around and explore every corner. Sadly, I don’t have time or tread for further exploration, and chug east from Manistee to Bay City, overnighting in some basic chain motel and wishing I was back in my tent on the lakeshore. In the morning, I scoot down I-75 to get the GS serviced and shod at BMW Motorcycles of Southeast Michigan. Again, the nicest people.

Over the next five weeks I’ll ride through another 13 states, many of them bucket-list destinations for motorcyclists. And yet I’ll keep thinking about this Great Lakes area and its empty roads, slow pace, and big-hearted locals. If you’ve ridden there, you know. If you haven’t, go. I’ll be right behind you.

There are some great roads in central Iowa around the town of Boone, which is about 45 miles north of Des Moines. This ride crisscrosses the Des Moines River on a series of county highways and backroads, offering a nice selection of curves and scenery. I’m on a BMW R 1200 RT today, but these roads are friendly for just about any kind of motorcycle. This 124-mile loop minimizes straight sections and takes a few hours, so let’s go!

Click here to view route on REVER

First things first: this ride is in rural farm country, so be alert for deer, farm equipment, and debris on the road. Our starting point is in downtown Boone. We follow Mamie Eisenhower Avenue (the former First Lady was born here) east to the junction with Highway R27, where we turn south and ride along the west side of Boone Municipal Airport. Like all the roads on this ride, the pavement is in good condition and meanders easily; you can see through the curves, so they’re fun to ride at any pace.

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We cross U.S. Route 30 and continue south to Highway E52 (250th Street). Turning right (west), we continue to the upper entrance of Ledges State Park, where sandstone ledges tower 100 feet above the Des Moines River. The scenic park offers hiking, picnicking, and camping, and we’ll return to it at the end of the ride.

We backtrack to R27, turn right, and head south again until R27 ends at the junction with Highway E57 (270th Street). We turn right (west) and cross the Des Moines River, enjoying the first of many scenic river views. Past the river is a sign for Camp Mitigwa, and we turn left (south) on R26, also known as Magnolia Road. We follow the twists and turns on excellent pavement down into the Des Moines River valley, and then turn left (east) on Highway E62 (325th Street) and soon arrive at the junction with State Highway 210.

Looking straight ahead, you’ll see the High Trestle Trail Bridge, a former railroad bridge over the Des Moines River that’s now a biking and walking trail. After enjoying the view, we turn around and ride E62 and R26 north again to E57. We turn left (west) on E57, then right (north) on R18 (L Avenue) toward the small town of Moingona.

We cross U.S. Route 30 and turn right (east) on Highway E41 (216th Drive), which is part of the Lincoln Highway Heritage Byway and crosses the Des Moines River. After a twisting climb out of the river valley, we see a strange-looking shale mound on the left, a reminder of Iowa’s once-booming coal industry. We enter Boone again from the west, picking up Mamie Eisenhower Avenue and then turning north on Marion Street.

After crossing the train tracks, we turn left on Highway E26 (12th Street) and make a few more turns as we follow E26 along curvy pavement and cross back over the Des Moines River. We exit the river valley on a wonderfully smooth and winding stretch of road followed by a short straight section.

We turn right (north) on Highway P70 (H Avenue), which runs along the western edge of Don Williams Recreation Area, which has a lake, camping facilities, and a golf course. We continue north to the junction with Highway E18 (130th Street), and turn right (east) toward Pilot Mound, a small town with a sense of humor that you’ll notice as you ride by. We cross the Des Moines River once again on E18, and then turn left (north) on Highway R21 (Nature Road).

We pass through another very small town, Ridgeport, which isn’t on most maps. We stay on R21, which twists and turns a few times until it becomes first Chase Avenue, then Stagecoach Road, and arrive in Stratford. We turn left (west) on State Highway 175, and quickly turn right (north) onto Highway D54 (Bellville Road), a real treat that heads steeply down into – you guessed it – the Des Moines River valley. There can be a lot of gravel at the bottom of this road, so stay sharp.

Exiting the river area, the road straightens (and becomes 330th Street) until we take a sweeping left (onto Racine Avenue) into Dayton, a small town with fuel, eateries, and rodeo grounds we see on our right as we leave town heading south. We’re back on Highway 175, which curves to the east and takes us over the Des Moines River, our sixth crossing! When Highway 175 curves north, we continue straight ahead and turn right (south) on Washington Avenue. After an interesting set of curves, we return to R21 (Chase Avenue/Nature Road) and continue south to Boone on Division Street.

At 10th Street, you can turn left (east) to visit the Boone and Scenic Valley Railroad. This excursion train was started by volunteers and has grown into a fine attraction with an excellent museum. We continue south on Division Street, crossing 3rd Street (Lincoln Highway) and coming to a four-way stop at Park Avenue.

We turn left (east) on Park Avenue and ride through the Honey Creek ravine and enter McHose Park, a great place to stop and stretch your legs. We turn right on Francis Mason Drive and wind our way south through the park, exiting near U.S. Route 30.

We head east briefly on U.S. 30, then turn right (south) on Oriole Road toward the Boone Speedway. Oriole Road meanders its way toward the Des Moines River and the lower entrance of Ledges State Park. The road is smooth and deceptively fast because, before you know it, the speed limit drops and there’s a chicane to slow you down before entering the park. Check out the sandstone ledges, enjoy the park, and then head back to Boone for fuel, food, or a hotel room. Me? I’m ready to gas up and ride another 120 miles to get back home.

Buffalo County, Wisconsin, is a hidden gem for motorcyclists. Located in the northwest part of the state, its southern border is the Mississippi River, which is the dividing line between Wisconsin and Minnesota. This is rural farm country, and the entire county has only one traffic light.

Buffalo County boasts dozens of fantastic motorcycling roads that twist along river banks, climb steep bluffs, dive into coulees and steep ravines, and cling to the edges of sandstone ridges. Numerous creeks and small rivers flow through the Waumandee Valley on their way to join the Mississippi, and they influence the shape and slope of these roads.

The best starting point is the town of Mondovi, located in the northeastern corner of Buffalo County. A quick fuel and food stop is recommended, as gasoline stations, restaurants, and other amenities are sparse as you head south. After a bite at McT’s Diner we follow County Roads (CR) H and ZZ south to a hook up with State Highway 88 at the Buffalo River.

Known as “Black Lightning,” Highway 88 has approximately 130 corners and curves in 40 miles as it runs from Gilmanton to the Mississippi River, making it one of Wisconsin’s highest-rated biker roads. It gives riders — and their brakes — a real workout as they ride the ridges and slash through a sandstone cut north of Praag.

Link to Waumandee Valley River Roads tour on REVER

At CR U, we head east until we reach CR C at a crossroads just north of the village of Montana. CR C dishes up a variety of steep climbs and hairpin curves as we work our way south along Swinns Valley Creek, on our way to State Highway 95 just west of Arcadia. A short jog going west on 95 takes us to CR E, which heads northeast through Pansy Pass and Glencoe to Waumandee. CR E east of Waumandee has such steep hills that many homeowners have large angled mirrors mounted on posts at the foot of their driveways to help provide a view of any hidden oncoming traffic.

The village of Waumandee — Chippewa for “clear and sparkling water” — is worth a stop. It dates back to the 1850s, and Waumandee House, which was built in 1879, is still an active inn and restaurant. Every September the village hosts the Waumandee Hillclimb, a unique event for sports car enthusiasts. A two-mile stretch of Blank Hill Road west of Highway 88 is closed for a day of timed runs up an 18-turn hillclimb road course.

Crossing Highway 88 we take a shot at Blank Hill Road, which is as challenging as advertised. Take care along the section of road that clings to the side of a cliff and has no guardrail. At CR N, we head north along Alma Ridge, which has some white-knuckle descents on its way to the Buffalo River at State Highway 37. A short jog up Highway 37 takes us to Highway KK on the west side of the Buffalo River.

Want a taste of riding the Isle of Man TT? Much like the famed road circuit, the CR KK south of Modena has climbs and descents chiseled into the sides of ridges with few guardrails, testing our binders and our nerves as we plunge down to CR D.

CR D winds west through rolling farm country to its junction with State Highway 35, which is known as the Great River Road and hugs the northern shore of the Mississippi. Overlooking the river, the town of Nelson has several recommended dining stops. On the day of our visit, J & J Barbeque and Nelson Creamery are overwhelmed with two-wheeled customers. We find an empty table at Beth’s Twin Bluff Café, and enjoy the best lemon pie we’ve ever tasted.

We headed north on State Highway 25 along the eastern edge of the Tiffany Bottoms Natural Area. At the village of Misha Mokwa, we turn east onto CR KK and complete the circle at the junction with CR D. Twists and turns command our full attention on our way to the village of Modena. Visit the general store in Modena to see two large motorcycle sculptures made from scrap metal, and pick up some cheese curds for a snack. We continue east on D until it dead-ends at Highway 37, then we follow the Buffalo River north and return to Mondovi.

The roads on this 110-mile loop are challenging, but most of the pavement is in good condition (be mindful of gravel in some corners). Part of what makes Buffalo County a great riding destination is the traffic — except for Highway 35, there is none! On a full day of weekend riding we encountered two tractors, two pickups, seven motorcycles, and one corn picker, which was blocking a narrow farm road. The only thing missing for a perfect riding weekend is a motorcycle class at the Waumandee Hillclimb so we can clock our time going up Blank Hill Road!

Iowa is not known as a motorcycling destination, but rather a through state. Motorcyclists travel mostly on the four-lane roads thinking that’s all there is to see, and that includes many of those who live in Iowa. Even our maps don’t make it look inviting, since the squiggly lines aren’t all that squiggly. So here are some roads I enjoy traveling that will be a treat for any motorcyclists looking for lightly traveled, interesting roads and a highly adaptable route.

I start at the intersection of State Highway 13 and U.S. Route 151 outside Cedar Rapids only because I live near there. The ride starts on what I call transit roads, or primarily straight roads. At County Road E34 head east toward the small town of Whittier, past a few houses, a Friends meeting house and a small store, then turn north. I should note that terms like village and hamlet are not common in Iowa, so even a few houses grouped together is called a town. At Waubeek you’ll cross the Wapsipinicon River, where an old mill has been turned into a rustic bar. You’re now on Boy Scouts Road, a former gravel road paved in the chip and dip manner. It’s narrow, the pavement is uneven but not rough and it has some tight corners. It’s a short stretch to savor before returning to more traditional Iowa-style main roads.

When Boy Scouts Road ends, turn east onto County Road E16 and enjoy some smooth pavement with nice open curves. At a four-way stop, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, turn north on County Road X20. This is a nice paved road off the beaten path where you can enjoy the scenery with a few curves thrown in to keep you from getting white line fever (remember that!).

Next take the road toward Hopkinton, where you will most likely encounter horses and buggies, since there is an Amish population that runs several inviting country stores along the route. The road to Hopkinton, County Road D47, starts straight but then gets nice and curvy with a tight “S” curve that can catch out the unaware. At Hopkinton, there’s a college that used to be active — OK, it was in business about 100 years ago and today you can do a ghost hunt/sleepover if that’s your thing. Heading north you’ll find it is mostly smooth and mostly straight with a few open curves. It is, however, somewhat rough between Hopkinton and Delhi, which makes for a nice stop with available fuel and a couple of good restaurants located on the small-town main street.

You’ll run into State Highway 3 at a T intersection where you’ll head left, then in a few short miles you will turn right onto County Road C7X. Turn right before the first big grain storage facility — you can’t miss the bright metal bins.

The road is smooth and has plenty of curves with gentle elevation changes. As you look around you’ll see what I call “vista views” across the hills that make up this corner of Iowa. You’ll pick up County Road X3C at what’s left of Elkport. A flood devastated the community some years ago; they did, however, make the best of the situation and created a green space camping facility.

The curves keep coming along with the views and smooth pavement until you intersect with Highway 13, yes, the same highway I started on. Head south toward an Iowa Welcome Center that has information, a small “Iowa Made” shop and displays of Iowa wildlife that make for a relaxing stop. There are plenty of opportunities to get food or gas along the way, but this stop makes for a quiet interlude. Leave the welcome center heading south looking for a right turn, County Road C24, heading west to Volga — any guesses as to what group settled here?

This road twists and turns, rises and falls, with a few blind turns thrown in as well. At Volga there’s a park that offers camping as well as access to the Volga River for kayaking. This area has become a destination for both leisurely kayakers as well as whitewater kayaking. Volga, like most of the other towns on the route, has a convenient city park perfect for a picnic.

Follow the signs to Wadena and you’ll be on a trip back through time to what many people think of when they think of rural Iowa. In Wadena you can stop at a locker (think no-frills meat market) and pick up travel food like meat sticks and jerky, or if you have a cooler, steaks to take home. You’ll also see an old hotel turned into a private residence that still has the name Wadena stenciled on the windows, so that when you got off the train a hundred years ago you knew where you were. Been wondering why so many very small towns exist along this route? One word: railroad. These towns owe their existence to having access to a rail line when rail was the only reliable transportation and communication line in Iowa. In Clermont you’ll see an old depot that a local group is trying to save.

When you reach Clermont, also known as “Brick City,” you can’t miss the turn of the century architecture throughout the town. Clermont was the home of the 13th governor of Iowa and has a statue and museum to prove it. Wadena and Clermont are still active and offer hospitality in the form of small-town restaurants and bars. These are not tourist towns, and they do cater to hunters in the fall, yet you’ll not feel out of place.

My ride doesn’t end at Clermont. You can reverse it (I like the way the curves string together heading north to south better then south to north), meander back on the other good roads in the area, explore the many graveled roads along the way if you’re so inclined or pick a new destination. The best time to ride the route is any time you can — I’ve ridden it four times already this year and plan on riding it at least one more time, so look for the guy on a BMW RT wearing high-viz gear: that most likely will be me!

Despite being a lifelong Hoosier, I hadn’t spent much time riding in the southern part of Indiana. This year would be different — I had a family reunion coming up in Bloomington, only four hours away from home in Valparaiso. I also had some rare extra days off from my mill job, so I thought I’d meander my way there instead of taking the direct route. Using secondary roads exclusively crossed my mind, but I didn’t have that much time.

I headed east on U.S. Route 30, then south on U.S. Routes 35 and 31. Thankfully, the rains that plagued us for weeks had finally stopped. Indiana is squarely in the Corn Belt, but the crop in our part of the state was pretty much toast due to the wet conditions. This was painfully obvious mile after mile, as stunted seedlings were barely at the ankle. The old saying is “knee high by the Fourth of July,” but with modern hybrids, most years the stalks are at the shoulder or better by late June.

North of Indy I jumped on State Highway 38. I’d noticed a scenic route designation on the map for State Highway 1, starting at Hagerstown, less than 20 miles from the Ohio border. The town is also just above the imaginary line that separates the state into north and south — as good a place to start as any. There was even a motorcycle-friendly eatery, Dave’s Café/Flatlanders Motorcycles. The Harley parked among the pool tables made my burger taste all the better. As poor luck had it, I’d showed up the day before their weekly bike night. Still, this was shaping up to be a good ride.

The Whitewater Canal Scenic Byway offers a snapshot of 19th-century American travel: river, canal and rail. I’d heard at the Greens Fork Family Diner it was also a fine motorcycle road. The report was accurate, with smooth pavement, abundant curves and frequent elevation changes, features that riders seek out but are rare north of the dividing line — especially the smooth part. Plank roads aren’t represented, but there is a heritage railroad running between Connersville and Metamora that features a restored section of the Whitewater Canal that once stretched 76 miles, from Hagerstown to Harrison, Ohio. Construction was a major engineering feat due to the steepness of the route, requiring 56 locks and seven dams, and the costly project drove the state into bankruptcy for a time.

I’m a fan of big rivers. I enjoyed riding the Mississippi and Missouri river valleys a couple of years ago in the Show Me State. Since I was close to the Ohio, I figured I would check it out. I was particularly interested in how it compared to those two flooding-wise, as my Missouri route was often dictated by water-related closures. But the first diversion was due to construction, not flooding. Instead of Lawrenceburg, where the river enters Indiana, the detour put me a few miles downstream in Aurora, where I picked up the Ohio River Scenic Byway. The Hoosier State segment covers 302 miles and follows several Indiana State Highways, 56, 156, 62 and 66, which meld together rather seamlessly. The distance suggested a lot of curves and didn’t disappoint.

Among American waterways, the Ohio is second only to the Mississippi in volume of water discharged. It has been described as a series of strung-together reservoirs, built and operated by the Army Corps of Engineers. As such, it serves many of the same functions as other Corps projects, such as drinking water, recreation, flood control and shipping. Barge traffic was abundant. I stopped a couple of times at riverside parks to watch the towboats do their magic. A century ago, the river towns catered primarily to businesses. Now tourism is a big economic activity as well.

Given the combination of good pavement, hills, curves and friendly locals, unsurprisingly there were lots of motorcycles on the byways. On one construction reroute, where it took 50 miles to go 10, two Harley riders gave chase. They weren’t dressed for a crash but pushed me hard on the straights and sweepers anyway, then I’d walk away from them in the tighter curves. We repeated the pattern several times. Fun!

I’d always wanted to visit our first Indiana state Capitol building, in Corydon. Just off the byway and easy to find, the tidy limestone structure is dwarfed by the current rendition in Indianapolis. But it was doubtless a big undertaking for the fledgling state in 1816. Unfortunately, it was closed for the day, a constant aggravation on my rides when visiting historical sites.

The afternoon was fading when I encountered another reroute. I wondered if this one really was due to flooding, as the stretch ran right along the river. Water or roadwork, I never found out, but I’d neglected to top off the Suzuki V-Strom’s tank in Jeffersonville and the blinking fuel gauge was making me nervous. I’d passed through several small settlements, but none with gas available. Luckily, the Derby General Store was still open. One of the pumps offered ethanol-free 90-octane mid-grade, rare in my corner of the state, and the Strom loved the unadulterated fuel. The attendant clued me into a shortcut that didn’t show as connecting on the map. It allowed me to see the dam at Cannelton, which the sanctioned route bypassed. I don’t use a construction avoidance feature on my GPS; folks that live in an area can generally advise the best route anyway.

Derby also carried a grim reminder of the potentially destructive power of big rivers: flood lines spanning eight decades posted on a utility pole. Like the Mississippi and Missouri, the Ohio sometimes jumps its banks despite man’s best efforts to tame it. But even with the proximity of big water and recent heavy rains, the corn crop in the area was comparatively healthy. One lush field shared space with another common Midwestern fixture, the oil pumpjack.

I stopped for the night in Evansville, an easy enough town to navigate considering its relatively large population. I often wish I’d been born in the southwest rather than the northwest corner of the state. The milder winters, better roads and laid-back lifestyle are big plusses. The next morning, I rode the remaining 25 miles of the Ohio River Scenic Byway to where it crosses the Wabash River into Illinois, then doubled back to Mount Vernon to begin the trek back north on State Highway 69.

I had the whole day to make it to Bloomington, so I stuck to state highways. They passed through endless farmland and the occasional small town. I prefer mom-and-pop diners, and one of the best indicators of quality food is pickup trucks in the parking lot; if the fare is substandard, the locals won’t patronize. JJ’s in Cynthiana looked promising. A man I guessed correctly to be JJ stood behind the register, hands on hips, looking me over, and asked, “What’d ya need, captain?” “How about a menu,” seemed the obvious reply. He shot back, “You sure you can read?” as he handed me one with a smirk. Then he put on a fresh pot of coffee, not so much for me, but for the lunch crowd about to arrive. Like clockwork, trucks of every description soon moved in. I hung out for a while, talking bikes, farm equipment, weather and steel mills.

ABATE of Indiana is a robust motorcycle rights organization. Twenty years ago, it purchased 400 acres in Lawrence County to host its annual fundraising party, the Boogie, which is dubbed the “Midwest’s Best Biker Fest.” The property has since been developed into a full-service off-road riding area with 60 miles of trails, campgrounds, showers and RV hookups. The Lawrence County Recreational Park is off the beaten path, but worth a visit. One day, I’d like to give those trails a try. The Indiana Motorcycle Safety Memorial is at the park’s entrance, dedicated to fallen Hoosier riders. The memorial grounds are impressive and made my detour worthwhile.

Bloomington is smack in the middle of some of the best motorcycling in Indiana. My youngest daughter once rode with me there. She said it felt like “riding through a tunnel,” as we motored under the canopy of trees that covers many of the highways. I’m not complaining, but at times the hills and curves became almost overwhelming. Once, I dropped my guard and almost overshot a tight turn. But I knew in a few hours I’d be back on straight and boring roads, with a large helping of potholes thrown in, so I enjoyed the squiggly lines while I could. Efficiency dictates that major highways cut the hills down to level the run, but rest assured there are still many miles of unmolested pavement in southern Indiana.

U.S. Route 231 was my chosen route home, avoiding the interstate. The dry and beautiful Saturday night brought out bikes by the score. In Crawfordsville, a chapter of the Iron Order with dozens of rumbling steeds had gathered for a run. I waved and they waved back. We were all on V-twins, albeit built for different styles of riding, but it didn’t matter. At West Lafayette, I once again overruled the Garmin’s choice of I-65 and picked up State Highway 43, then U.S. Route 421 for the last 70 miles. It’s weird, but after all the curves and hills, the arrow-straight run that I’ve made many times was strangely satisfying.

The Ohio River Valley is now on my list of favorite places. The byway hugs the river for many miles and I’m glad I ran the Indiana section almost beginning to end. I only wish I could have spent more than a day taking it in. Two or three would’ve been better, as there’s much to do and see. I’m always searching for the perfect ride. Turns out one of the best has been in my backyard all along. 

“It’s not the destination, it’s the journey,” says the motorcycling adage. That’s true! Most highlights of motorcycling are experienced during the ride. I choose journeys with an interesting place to turn around (destination) before heading back home. Riding the Iron Range in northeastern Minnesota provides wide choices of appealing destinations and journeys, riding through forests, hills and curves in Minnesota’s “arrowhead.”

Aptly named due to the huge iron ore mining economy formed in the late 19th century, we started our ride from the town of Mountain Iron, at the Holiday Inn Express. Riders will appreciate the covered parking for a few motorcycles. The Iron Range Tourism Bureau publishes ride guides every year. My wife Jean and I picked up one at the inn and selected potential routes to try during our few days “on the Range.” We modified and combined our routes to fit in a few destinations that piqued our interests. After our complimentary breakfast, our journey began.

The Mines and Pines tour was our warm-up ride for Memorial Day weekend. Heading north on U.S. Route 53 to Cook, turning west, we rode through the rural settings on Trunk Highway 1. Logging and farming appeared to be the main economic activities. Heading south on County Road 5 there was a noticeable change from farming to tourism as we rode to McCarthy Beach State Park for a break. Out of the saddle, we rehydrated, and off we went.

Finally, we arrived at the “mines” part of the Mines and Pines tour. We ended up at the Iron Man, a tribute to the miners who worked the iron mines. After a quick lunch under the shade tree at The Stand, we were refreshed and ready to explore our destination for the day, the Minnesota Discovery Center. The Center is an exhibition of the mining and cultural artifacts associated with mining in the Range. A rail trolley used for transporting miners to and from the mines is still in operation for tourists. Some of the original buildings, homes and boarding houses still stand and are well maintained, providing a glimpse into the past’s daily life above ground.

We finished back at our starting point and went out to dinner. We discovered a nice new restaurant in the neighboring town of Virginia, The Northern Divide, which provided an excellent dinner and outstanding service.

The next day was dark and gloomy in the north woods of Minnesota. Another adage for motorcyclists is, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad wardrobe choices.” We mustered up the right perspective with, “Today is a good day to test our rain gear!” Since it was raining, we decided our journey should take us to an indoor destination. More than indoors, we picked an underground destination. Trunk Highway 135 runs from Gilbert north to Tower. It’s smooth and wide, and the forest is cut back from the roadway, providing good visibility for any deer, moose or other forest creatures that might wander onto the roadway.

After we arrived at Lake Vermilion-Soudan Underground Mine State Park, a three-minute elevator ride took us down 2,341 feet below the surface. From there we rode a trolley in total darkness. Arriving at a “stope,” a steplike excavation that is formed as the ore is mined in successive layers, we could see and hear how miners worked one of the richest iron ore mines in the world.

Back on the surface, the rain had stopped but the roads were still wet. Back in our rain suits and off we went to Ely via Trunk Highway 169. The journey on the two-lane road was through heavy forest and light traffic, just the way it should be. We had two destinations in Ely, the International Wolf Center and the North American Bear Center. I can’t say enough about these attractions. The quality and educational value of the displays are superb! We arrived at each just before feeding time, so the wolves and bears were up and active. Both centers have large glass viewing areas great for photographers.

Backtracking west on Highway 169, then south on Highway 135, our destination for the night was The Lodge at Giants Ridge. It’s open year-round for skiers, travelers and golfers. Tomorrow’s ride would be over to the north shore of Lake Superior.

The North Shore Scenic Drive is a must for any rider. Our destination was Two Harbors, where all the iron ore from the mines comes by rail then ships out to destinations all over the world. County Highway 110 winds through Aurora and Hoyt Lakes, then County Highway 11’s sweepers took us into Silver Bay. I mentioned to Jean, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many shades of green.” The north woods were waking up from the long winter and the brilliant sunshine illuminated the greenery from every angle. Following the designated scenic route, we leaned into the curves going up and over the rolling forest terrain.

Reaching Silver Bay, we turned southwest on Trunk Highway 61. The road hugs Lake Superior’s north shore. It is smoother and straighter than it used to be, but the scenery is still a beautiful shoreline drive all the way to Two Harbors. Along the way we stopped at The Rustic Inn Café. It has the best pie on the north shore. Although the day was sunny, it was also cool and windy. With a hot cup of coffee, a warm piece of pie and a scoop of ice cream, I agreed with my GPS navigation when it said, “You have reached your destination.”