I managed to get in 550 miles this weekend (between lunchtimes) through Eastern NC.  The idea was simple -- the girls were all headed out Saturday afternoon for various Girl Scout functions and I was going to be home alone.  So, I strapped the tent and sleeping bag on the back of the bike and headed south.

I tried to stick to back roads, generally skirting Rt. 17 and taking a few interesting twists and turns along the way, a few unintentional (have you ever noticed that some of those little lines on your map don't have numbers?). I wasn't planning where to go, just that I'd head south and avoid main roads as much as possible. I ended up all the way at Cedar Island, about the farthest you can go without a boat. Morehead City is worth passing up, Beaufort has a nice coffee shop and some good looking boats. The roads were clear of traffic along the coast and on most of the back roads, with cruising speeds at 70+, with a few sections run a tiny bit faster ;-).

I got to Morehead about 5 p.m. and had to decide left or right along the coast. I remembered there were a couple of campgrounds to the left, so I headed that way. I got to Sealevel (yes, an actual town, not the condition, although the two were extremely close) and chatted with an gentile older man who somewhat politely told me his campground was closed, but I could take a leak around the back of the shop if I was so inclined. He turned on the porch light so I could see (in front --so I could see the bike) and left. He said the only other campground for 30 miles was probably closed, too.

I took a gamble, 10 miles north versus 30 miles south, and it paid off, kind of. The campground was closed -- no water, electrics, etc., but for $10 they'd let me pitch my tent there anyway. By now it was pushing 7 p.m. and I wasn't looking forward to riding all the way back down a curvy coastal road in the dark, just to stay in a fleabag hotel. Heck, they had a cheap-o hotel there at the ferry dock. More importantly I was hungry and the wait for a table was just about as long as it would take me to set up camp.

I ended up pitching my tent, eating some fried shrimp in the one restaurant for 20 miles (the next closest one had gas pumps in front of it) and washed up at the public toilet at the ferry docks. Did I mention you can't go any farther without a boat?

I had a beer, tried to start a fire with wet wood, walked along the water under a nearly full moon and generally enjoyed myself. Early to bed and up and on the road this am by 7:30 or so, with everything packed. I blasted back down the coast road (12 and 70) at significant speeds, enjoying the fast sweepers and empty town roads. I was counting on no officers being out.

I managed to make a wrong turn near Beaufort and was 15 miles gone before I realized "this doesn't look right." That was also 14 miles after my low fuel lamp went on. Oops. I finally got myself turned around, realized my map sucked, regardless of the fact I didn't see the sign I needed, and that it may be time for a GPS and made it into Beaufort for some gas and breakfast.

I cruised the downtown area looking for an open restaurant, but the only thing moving was several older gentlemen who were sitting on a bench smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. Those were the extent of their movements, too.

I figured I was in the right place when I hopped off the bike and said "This looks like the spot" and no one responded "for what?" Turns out the little coffee shop was the only place open except for fast food, and the coffee was good. The Roadster attracted a lot of attention (some of them even got off the bench to walk around it) and I was once again thankful for the fumeless fuel injection as they waved their cigs around and admired the bike. One of them noticed I was plugged in and asked about my "electric suit." The folks in that area have some accent! Kind of like Fargo meets the Clampets.

Soon I was un-geared and answered out and I went inside to fall in love with the woman who owns the place. Apricot turnovers, raspberry bread and fresh coffee. Good eats and soon the road called, sans electrics as it was warming up fast.

I took 24 over to 58, up to 17, east on 55 and north on 306. Blah, blah, blah, I ended up at home about 2 p.m., stopping briefly for lunch in Plymouth, NC ('cause that's as long as you ever want to stop there). Although I could have jumped on 17 and saved an hour and a half, I avoided it except for a mile or two here or there, except for the final 25 miles or so to Chesapeake, letting me get in a few extra miles (just over 300 for the day).

All in all a great weekend for a winter ride! The only thing better would have been to turn around and do it again.

Gear: The PIAAs were worth their weight in gold when the sun when down in no-man's land. I turned them off a few times, and immediately thanked my wife for such a wonderful Christmas present when they came back on. The GS handguards -- a nice touch for keeping the chill off the hands during the night and morning rides. The new bike shorts worked out very well for helping with numb-bum. The camelback bladder-in-the-tank-bag trick worked well for sips of water when the road slowed down. I found a better way to mount my Ocelot tank bag on the Roadster's unusual tank, and a GPS will move higher on my wish list.