Day Three: Wednesday, Aug. 15, 2001
I awake to the sounds of people milling about and the glow of the bright morning sun, a good sign for the day. Andray and myself are both anxious and excited about riding together. We goof off and bumble around for a bit before finally getting on the road. It takes me a while to get all the GIVI bags loaded up and snapped back on the bike. Some of the stuff I was wearing is still damp from my ride in the rain a few days ago and I had it strewn about in an attempt to get it dried before stuffing it into the bags with the rest of my clothes.
Andray brings his bike around and suits up. It is about 10:00am and we are ready to roll. Before leaving town, Andray suggests that we swing by the place where he works. It seems that they have one of those large scales for weighing vehicles. Cool. It is only a mile or so from his house, so we swing over for a visit. We pull into a gravel parking lot and I follow Andray over to a small hut. He motions for me to pull up onto the scale. I have always been curious what the VFR, myself and all of my luggage might weigh. However, I am not prepared for the reality. The nice guy working the scale casually leans out his door and hollers "800!" at me. Being in shock I immediately said, "WHAT!?" to which he again replies... "800 lbs!" All of a sudden I feel like a Goldwing or something! Then I remind myself of how much fun I had in the past on the bike with more weight on it than I am presently carrying. Then a warm fuzzy feeling comes over me hehe. I love my bike. We both get a kick out of this and then take off for some back road riding with Andray in the lead.
At first, Andray is taking it a bit cautious because he is not sure how hard I can ride with the GIVI luggage on board. At a stop I let him know that he can wick it up a bit, he does and we have a blast. We head East out of town. Since he's leading, I'm not really paying attention to what roads we are taking. But eventually we wind up heading for Leesburg. It is a beautiful morning. I love the smells in the morning. Something about the freshness of the day makes them all the more pungent and vivid. We hit some really fun winding roads along the way.
Before long we come across a familiar road. We are heading East on Hwy 68 towards I-59. We pass thru Leesburg and soon after get to Centre and head Northeast on Hwy 9. The scenery is nothing great, but it is still a nice ride. The temperature is mild and the skies are partly cloudy with some slight crosswinds. The feel of the air moving over my skin through my mesh jacket often gives me goose bumps. We follow Hwy 9 to the Georgia border and head for Rome. From Rome we head North on Hwy 1 looking for a turn off for Hwy 156. Hwy 1 is a four lane boring road, but at least the traffic is light and we soon find the turn off for Hwy 156.
According to the maps, Hwy 156 is a scenic route, this is of course why I chose this road. The road does not disappoint. I am leading now and am setting a moderately brisk pace. There aren't any really tight spots on this road, but there are lots of 65 mph sweepers and some 45mph banked turns. Scenery wise, it is mostly just a country road with homes and farms spread along its length. With all the recent rain the last few weeks, everything is wet and green, very lush. The road is almost hypnotic because it is smooth and predictable. I have to keep making myself slow down because I find my speed creeping up when I quit paying attention to it and just ride.
When we reach Calhoun, we wander through town trying to find our way to Hwy 225 North. After a quick tour of a local parking lot, we get back on the road heading the right way. Hwy 225 is more of what we have just come through on 156, rolling hills and smooth curves. Nice homes are set back off the road on large lots. We pass through several small hamlets. I am hoping to find a road we took last year, Hwy 136 to Hwy 382. I never even see the turn off for 136. Not realizing this, we just keep cruising North on 225 until we reach a four way intersection. We decide to pull off at a Shell gas station for a break and to get our bearings.
Across the street from the gas station is an old large house. Andray informs me that it is the VanHorn house and that it is now some kind of historical museum. He also informs me that his kin are from this neck of the woods and that they are related to the VanHorns somehow. All these years that he has lived in Guntersville, just s short fun ride away, and he has never gotten over to this area! After a Snickers and a drink, we stretch a bit and then get back on the bikes. Still thinking that we have yet to hit our turn, we leave and head North on what we think is still 225. The road continues on out into the middle of nowhere, but it's fun.
After fifteen minutes or so, I am starting to wonder if we missed our turn. When I zip past the Tennessee border sign, I know we have gone too far. A few more miles up the road and I pull over at a small gas station to look at a map. Neither of us are sure where we are now. The guy at the station is quite nice but not a whole lot of help. However, he doesn't mind us taking a peek at a few of his maps without having to buy them. It does not take long to realize that we are quite a ways past the intended turn off point. As it is getting later in the day, Andray decides that he will have to cut the ride short and start heading back for home. He decides to head back South on 225 and head West on Hwy 2. I follow him until he turns. I turn with him and try to get him to pull over so I can say good bye and get a picture of him. Call me absent minded, but I completely forgot to get a good picture of him and Martha, not too mention Philip and his wife! Doh! I snap a few pics (>Pic 1 / >Pic 2), say a final good bye and then we head our separate ways.
As I leave Andray behind, I am struck by the thought that it is so cool that I met him on the internet, he agreed to put me up for a night or two sight unseen, then we get to spend an evening and the following morning riding together on the bikes, and we become friends. This is one of the biggest reasons I like riding bikes. Here I ride all this time with a guy I hardly know, and after a few hours in the saddle, we have shared something pretty special and have formed the beginnings of a long term friendship. Very cool. We now have a solid point of connection. Back to the road, now where's that next turn?
Not wanting to go all the way back to the four way stop, I decide to cut East on Hwy 286 to a small town on US 411. Hwy 286 is a fun little road that winds through the hills and into a valley. US 411 runs North and South in this valley. I stop for gas and a quick stretch. My hamstrings are getting tight from squeezing the bike so much. Then I am off, heading South for Chatsworth. I have decided to explore another road, Hwy 52 to Ellijay. What luck!
No more than a mile or so after turning onto Hwy 52, I see a sign stating that this road is closed to commercial traffic. Cool. It is about 30 miles or so to Ellijay. Apparently this road runs up the side of a small mountain range, along the ridges and down the far side into Ellijay. I don't think any of the peaks are above 3000ft altitude. The road is very smooth and clean. The curves are all slightly banked and predictable. There are very few homes in this area and not much traffic either. The weather is nice and I have a full tank of gas, can it get any better?
I soon slip into bike zone mode. I focus on being smooth, no sudden control inputs, setting my entry speed and picking up the throttle early coming off the corners. All thoughts of anything non-bike are squeezed out of my mind. My eyes are focused up the road, following the extent of the visible road as it winds around the next blind corner. The climb up into the mountains is a blast. Controlling my speed is much easier when I don't have gravity trying to make me go faster. Soon the road becomes like a roller coaster, slipping up and down with quick turns right and left. Often I get the shortness of breath and the giddy feeling in my gut as I crest a hill and dip around to the next curve. MMMmmmm... This is quality therapy!
All too soon, I find myself coming down off the mountain, picking up more traffic and development. In a few minutes I pop out into Ellijay at US 76. I spot the gas station where we stopped last year and decide to pull over for a nature break. I am getting hungry again and grab a Snickers. The clerk, a woman in her sixties, asks me where I'm from and where I'm going, the usual questions. I tell her that I just finished a fantastic ride from over the mountains! She gives me a strange look and asks, "You rode your bike up THAT road!!??" "Of course!," I reply. "Are you crazy? I'm afraid to go up that road even in a car!" I try not to laugh and begin explaining to her that that motorcyclists live for roads like Hwy 52. "The tighter and twistier the better!" After a short pause, "Hmmpph... Well you be careful and don't get hurt." I thank her and am on my way.
I head North on US 76 towards Blue Ridge where I will pick up Hwy 5 North. US 76 is a four lane major highway, but after a tight spirited ride like 52, it is nice to relax a bit and stretch my legs so to speak. The mountains are getting larger and the scenery more beautiful with each passing mile. I would never have thought that a major highway like this would be a nice drive, but it rolls up and over the hills and around in big gentle sweeping curves. Nothing technical, but it really makes me feel like I am just zooming along. It is starting to get late in the afternoon, around 2:30pm or so, and I still have a good ways to go. I reach Hwy 5 in short order and turn North.
Hwy 5 is one of those roads that but for the presence of too much traffic, would otherwise be a nice ride. However, the urban development near US 76 is creeping North along 5 into the woods towards Copperhill, Tn. I don't doubt that in a few more years, the entire stretch will be fairly heavily developed. Fortunately, the ride to Copperhill is brief. Copperhill is right on the border between Georgia and Tennessee. I believe it still has an active copper mine. The town has a bit of a touristy look to it now with lots of neat little shops and coffee houses along the main road. As soon as I get into town, Hwy 5 hits Tn Hwy 68. I head West on 68 briefly until it gets out of town and then turns North.
Soon after leaving Copperhill, 68 goes back down to one lane each way and begins to wind its' way through the countryside. When the road was constructed, the amount of grading and filling seems to have been very minimal, thus it follows every nuance of the surrounding terrain. It is another road like Hwy 52, smooth and predictable, yet tight and twisty. The big difference is that it has many more driveways and side streets from which nasty surprises can spring forth. Fortunately for me, none do. However, as I start to really get into a particularly fun section of the road, I come around a corner at a pretty good clip and spot freshly cut grass covering my entire lane. Today, I am not riding 10/10ths of my ability and thus have left myself room to slow the bike and get it upright before I hit the grass. The damp musty smell of freshly cut grass quickly overwhelms my nose. Instant flashback to the lawn mowing days of my youth!
I keep the pace down and ride cautiously, not knowing when I might round the corner and have a mowing tractor in my lane. This is apparently the work of the road maintenance crews as the grass covers my lane for the next few miles. The grass itself is not so bad, it is all the garbage from the ditch that is now strewn about the road and hidden by the grass clippings. The worst is bits and pieces of random chunks of metal and shredded aluminum cans. I manage to miss all of the nasty stuff and eventually catch up to the mowers. I have a brief moment of fear as I start to think about things flying out from under the cutting deck and impacting me as I go by, but thankfully, nothing happens and I resume my spirited pace, eager to reach Tellico Plains and the start of the Cherohala Skyway.
It is about 4:30 when I reach Tellico Plains. The ride was so relaxing that now I'm feeling pretty good. It has been a great day so far, but I am starting to get a bit hungry. Right at the turn off for the Skyway, there is a gas station convenience store combination. I pull in and top off the bike with gas. Then I go inside and look to see what can be had to take the edge off my hunger. I have been eating Snickers a lot the last few days and they are starting to get old. This time I am in the mood for something a little more substantial and maybe even healthy. Then I spot the corndogs in the deli section of the store. Mmmm... So much for healthy food.
I settle in to the dining area with my freshly micro waved corndog, a blob of spicy mustard and a Coke. Of course the local old guys are hanging out here, smoking their cigs and catching up on the latest gossip. I get the normal stares because of my attire. I'd think these guys had seen tons of motorcyclists dressed up in a full riding suit. I mean this place is like a motorcycle Mecca. Not being fond of the smoke and being eager to reunite with the road of the Skyway, I gobble down the dog and hit the road. I feel a bit giddy about heading up onto the Skyway, I have such fond memories from my last visit.
The first few miles out of town are along a wide and shallow river winding back into the mountains. Before long the gradient of the road starts to gradually increase and the curves begin to sharpen. My pulse quickens a bit in anticipation. Riding alone, I don't have to keep track of anyone behind me and there is no one in front of me to distract me. The road surface is as wonderful as I remembered, perfect. There are no side roads to speak of and it is just woods along both sides of the road, really peaceful and beautiful. I just focus on smooooth...
Shortly I reach the point of the Skyway that begins to run along the ridges of the mountains. The view is great. It is early evening and the sun is getting low on the horizon, but it is still quite light out. There is nothing but forests and mountains for as far as I can see in every direction. Since leaving Tellico Plains, I have seen maybe two or three other vehicles of any type. I have the Skyway all to myself and I'm loving it.
It is amazing how fast time passes when I am riding a road like the Skyway. The miles just seem to slip by in an instant. I stop along the way for a >picture and continue on my way. There are so many long high speed sweepers followed by tight long switchbacks, I could just do this all day. But soon I come to the North Carolina border and a few miles later, the road begins to narrow and the quality of the pavement is not so incredible, but still nice. Now starts the drop back down off the ridge into the valley below where the small town of Robbinsville lies.
The first time I did this section of road, it was pitch black, about 55 degrees F and at the end of a very long day on the bikes. It was nerve wracking and yet still an incredible experience. Today, I can see fine and what I see is a tight and twisty road that snakes along the sides of the mountains, dropping in elevation with trees right against the edge of the pavement forming a shaded tunnel for me to ride through. The early evening sun is coming in through the branches and giving everything a soft warm glow. There is the occasional gravel or dirt in the road, but nothing that poses a serious problem. This section of road is so tight that I run the VFR in second gear, maybe third occasionally, the whole way to Robbinsville. Great fun.
Just a few miles outside of Robbinsville, Hwy 143, the North Carolina side of the Skyway, splits into a bypass and a business section. I take the bypass and head around the North side of town to pick up US 129. Hwy 129 runs through some low mountains and then along a shallow river in a narrow valley for a good ways. The road has some serious nasty spots. One in particular has large washboard ripples throughout an entire curve. I had forgotten about it and am quickly reminded when I come through the curve leaned over and the bike starts hopping and wobbling around. Nothing like a little pick me up for the pulse rate! Eventually, US 129 hits the base of a mountain and makes a sharp right curve after crossing a bridge where it then heads up the steep mountain side emerging at The Crossroads of Time. But I decide to stop on the bridge for a few pictures before heading up the road.
As I round the corner and come upon the bridge, I am greeted with the sight of >thick fog rolling up the river valley and swiftly >slipping over the top of the bridge. Very cool. The fog is illuminated by the evening sun and glows. After it crosses the bridge, it is collecting at the base of a small hydroelectric dam (>Pic 1 / >Pic 2), one of many in the area. For a moment or two, I am hypnotized by the motion of the fog, so fluid and seamless. Then I look over the edge of the bridge into the swift moving water below. Again, the currents and eddies flow in a hypnotic pattern as the water moves away from the base of the dam and starts its' down river journey. Just then, a local Deputy Sheriff in a Z28 Camaro drives by and looks me over real good. He reaches the tight right hander and disappears from sight. I snap a >quick shot of the VFR against the back drop of the dam and pack up the camera. I am getting anxious to get on up to the Crossroads and settle in for the day.
I guess the local law has to crack down on some of the bikers that come to this area. There are so many of them that surely the locals get tired of seeing them at times. Not only is this area a hotbed for squiddly sport bikers, but it also attracts large crowds of staright pipe ear splitting Harleys and similar ilk. Anyway, I get back on the road and start my way up the mountain. As I come around a particularly tight turn, there sits mister Deputy pointing right back at me from the side of the road. Apparently he thought I might come racing up the road and he'd get me. Apparently, he did not notice the GIVI luggage and tank bag on the bike. Did he really think I would be racing up this road with such a load? I am just cruising along at a nice sedate and legal speed and give him a nice big wave as I go by him. I notice in my mirror that he immediately pulls out and heads back down towards the dam. I settle into carefully watching the road and knocking out the last few miles.
Upon reaching the top of the road, there is one last sharp curve and then "POOP", out I come almost right in the parking lot of the Crossroads. It sits at the intersection of US 129 and Hwy 28. US 129 continues on up the mountain a ways and crosses into Tennessee. This is the stretch of infamous road known as Deal's Gap or The Dragon. It supposedly has 318 curves in an 11 mile stretch of road. In my previous rides here I have never been able to count them all, I get to distracted by the fact that I'm riding a motorcycle hehe. I pull into the parking lot and park in front of the main office/store.
Taped to the inside of the door is a hand written sign addressed to me. Apparently they are closing up shop for the evening and are letting me know which room is mine and that the key to the room is on the table in the room. I pull the sign off the door as I walk in and begin to speak with the guy behind the counter about checking into my room. As I am filling out the paperwork, I hear a familiar voice from behind me. I turn around and there stands Duncan, a wandering Aussie that we met here last year while he was camping. I guess he really likes it here because now he works here, if you could really call living here and riding around this area meeting tons of bikers a job!? Duncan, Mike (the counter guy) and Francois are about to head back down to Robbinsville for dinner and invite me to come along. Cool. They tell me to meet them at the Dungeon in town. I head to my room, drop off the luggage, and then ride right back into town.
These guys obviously know the road really well. They haul butt. By the time I get to the restaurant, they are already seated with their drinks and have ordered. I join them and we start getting to know each other. It's like we have know each other for a long time. They are all quite laid back and easy to get along with. Dinner comes shortly and is quite good. I highly recommend this place. Just ask the guys at the Crossroads how to find it, I could do it again, but I could not give directions even though it is pretty easy.
It is dark after dinner. I think it is around 8:00pm and very cool. I'm still wearing my mesh jacket. Now that I have a full stomach and am on the end of a long day in the saddle, I'm getting tired. How I wish I could just pile in the car with these guys and ride back. They tell me to be safe and then they head out. I leave the parking lot a scant few seconds later and they are long gone. The ride back is about twenty five minutes or so, kind of boring in the dark once you've done it. When I reach the Crossroads, Francois is wondering around the parking lot holding his new GPS receiver out in front of him. These guys have been here for some time! I had been invited back to their trailer to visit and have a beer. But first I want to get back to my room and get out of the riding gear and into something a little more comfortable.
When I get back to the trailer, they invite me in and we start BS'ing. There are motorcycle mags all over the place as well as bike parts and tires. Francois is in his room playing with his really cool Mac laptop and the GPS. When I mention that I am supposed to be heading over to Waynesville Cycle Center in Waynesville tomorrow morning for new tires, Francois mentions that they now sell and install tires here at the Crossraods. Using his cool mapping software, he shows me that it will be an 85 mile ride each way from the Gap to the dealer. My appointment is for 9:00am! Let's just say I am not a morning person and let it go at that. I mean, nearly two hours to get there, at least a few hours to do the tire swap, and then two hours back! No way.
Mike is the man when it comes to the tires. He and I take a quick run up to the shop in his truck to see what they have in stock. I had been considering putting a BT020 on the rear and a BT 010 on the front. Unfortunately, they don't have the 020 in the right size. But they do have the Dunlop 205, so I use that. I have used this combination before and love it. He sets the tires aside and then we head back to the trailer. I hang out and visit for a bit longer and then head back to my room to call it a day. It seems that other than a couple camping, I am the only person here tonight. Kind of cool.