Day Two Thursday 7 June 2007

 

Steve and Bill, ready to start the day.

 The boys rose early Thursday morning and motored up Highway 60 from Dahlonega to Suches; target: Two Wheels Only, to some, the motorcycle Mecca of the southeastern United States.  The short sixteen mile journey offered a preview what was in store for the weekend – sunlight beaming through the trees, perfect atmospherics of light, dry air, and of course, the beautifully carved roads of north Georgia. 

 

TWO came quickly, as Chan parked the truck for egress.  All three of us hopped out and moved to unload the bikes and equipment.  As the three of us were staging our equipment, Gary walked up to us to say hi. Gary is a great fellow rider that Bill met at TWO three years ago who owns a Connie and an SV-650.

Gary, Bill, and Steve (cleaning the windshield).

 

 It was good to see Gary again, and after a brief chat to get caught up on the latest news, Chan, Bill, and Steven said good-bye and pulled out of TWO onto Highway 60 to head north.  It felt good to get rolling – the bikes fully loaded, Steven and I riding two-up, Chan solo on his Strom.  Highway 60 offers a great blend of straights and turns – a great road to start a long distance trip, lets one acquire their “mountain legs.” We started out at a modest pace, taking our time, re-acclimating to the mountains against the contrast of the flat straight roads of FL.  Bill suggested breakfast at a great little restaurant in Morganton GA, that he tried on a previous trip.  Indeed, the waffles were “home-made” and the service with a smile, was typical of the folks one meets in the mountain region.

 

Loved this little café.  The menu was written with grease pencil on a whiteboard, with entries like “Tater Salad”, “Mashed Taters”, “Fried Okra”, and  “Turnip Greens”.  Our waitress was really cute, but I could not help but be distracted.  She had a nose piercing, and the stud was just a little too long...it was hanging out of her nostril!  I tried not to stare.

After breakfast, Bill and Steve went to get gas while I sat outside the café, jawing with the owner and two little street urchins that had ridden up on their bicycles.  They looked to be about seven, one with a Mohawk haircut, the other dressed in fatigues, and both with mountain drawls as thick as cold molasses.  One was sporting a brand new arm cast that he had acquired after an altercation between his bike and a ramp.  I couldn’t help but chuckle as I remembered what it was like to be a boy on a bicycle.  Sadly, I didn’t think to take their pictures.  --Chan

 

After several cups of coffee, and many laughs, the three suited up to head to the next stop, Tellico Plains TN. The pace picked up, and all three riders started to get their groove; Duck Town, Turtle Town, were in their rear view mirrors as they merged onto Hwy 68.  Under a clear blue sky and blazing morning sun, the three headed to the lower elevation of Tellico Plains. Hwy 68 stretched out, and the pace edged up yet again.  The bikes, road characteristics, and climate were locking into perfect order – Bill’s Bimmer sweetly vibing at 2800 rpm, Steven in perfect riding rhythm with his father, and Chan nimbly guiding his Strom, Tellico appeared on the horizon in short order.

68, Turtle Town to Tellico Plains

 

As the three pulled into the BP station at Tellico, three senior gents riding BMW 1200 RTs softly glided in and pulled up alongside.  As all disembarked from their bikes, removing helmets and gloves, the late morning heat and humidity could be felt – it was definitely June.  After short greetings among the riders, the six riders settled into conversation typical of folks who are touring while consuming fluids to cool off.  It was very cool to see these guys doing so well on their machines – an inspiration that touring on a motorcycle can be performed well after retirement age.  (One of our topics of conversation was the log truck that we had all blasted around on the last long downhill into Tellico.  He was loaded with huge oak logs, some that must have been 4 feet across.  As we discussed it, an acrid odor wafted by.  We all looked back up the road and saw the truck, on the shoulder, surrounded by clouds of white smoke…his brakes were on fire!---Chan)  Our next way-point, Robbinsville NC was 65 miles away, and as it was mid-day we saddled up, and headed east on the majestic Hwy 165 (TN), Hwy 143 (NC) otherwise known as the Cherohala Parkway – fifty-two miles of sweepers, beautifully articulated corners, and numerous vistas to rest and take it all in. 

 

 

 

 

Singing: "The hills are aliiiiiiiive...with the sound of music..."

 

 

Toronto Jim.

 It was at one such vista that we met a gent from Toronto Canada, named Jim.  Aboard his Aprilia Tuono, replete with custom seat, and aftermarket exhaust, (beautiful note) Jim had ridden south all the way from the Great White North.  He had been on the road for a couple of weeks,  packing only a tank bag and the tail bag in the picture.  He had an FJR1300 at home, but said he enjoyed touring on the sportbike as much as the sport-tourer.  Impressive fellow.

 

Bill suggested that he and Steven to a drive by/photo op. Chan obliged and with his camera captured a terrific left sweeper with two-up on the Bimmer.  The three bid Jim adieu, and were off to Robbinsville.

 

 

With a quick pit-stop in Robbinsville, fluids were added to both man and machine.  With engine break-in on-going, the RT is in oil consumption mode.  Bill obliged the bike by topping the engine to the upper level mark.  The three resumed their trek with Deal’s Gap as the next objective. The ride north on Hwy 129 commenced with a brisk (read fast) sprint passed Lake Santeetlah. Steven was provided with a brief demonstration of high speed cornering which he later commented on in the affirmative. But the riding glee was short lived; our progress was slowed by a Snapple delivery truck, or so we thought. Like a Formula 1 driver yellow flagged on the track, we slowed to a pace so slow, it was both mentally frustrating and physically uncomfortable to ride (no momentum, no gyro,) (and not much breeze).  Alas, we must be kind to our fellow riders, fast and slow – and this case it was the latter. The humorous thing about the hold up was that the Snapple truck was being impeded by two relatively young men, riding two capable motorcycles (read sport bike, fast cruiser). Scratch Hwy 129. 

 

A motorcycle holding up a Snapple truck.  How embarrassing. --Chan

 

We rode into the Gap and parked the bikes; this was Steven's first time to visit the infamous Deal's Gap "Dragon."  Steven dismounted the Bimmer, jettisoned his helmet, and exclaimed  “Kewel Dad!” Surrounded by an assortment of bikes of every design, color, and purpose, we had successfully arrived at that magical place where riders gather from all points beyond to challenge the limits of their riding skill, nerve, and luck. Today, Bill and Steven would take a pass at riding the Gap. Out of Bill’s sensibility for his Son’s safety, the decision was to stay put, have a soda, and enjoy the resort.

 

 

 

 Chan agreed with the decision and our attention was turned to the diversity of both bikes and riders present.  Of particular note, one dude climbed aboard his chopper trike unassisted from his wheelchair. Whoa. Talk about determination. Despite the disability of lower paralysis, riding remained a priority to this guy. Once on the bike, he lifted his chair into a mount on the right side of the trike, fired it up, and blasted off up the Dragon; certainly made quite an impression.  With that,  the three mounted their bikes, and vectored south on hwy 28.

 

The afternoon was filled with a series of highways offering a diversity of riding pattern and skill.  Steven was loving every minute, looking over his father’s shoulder, monitoring speed, gear selection, throttle and brake coordination, with  Chan out in front, leading the way, carving a beautiful line.  Hwy 28, flowed to Hwy 1001 and on to 74.  At times, the envelope was pushed up a notch, with the ride in a fantastic flow of cornering and momentum.

 

 

Break time on 1001.

 

As we rode the final leg on Hwy 276, the late afternoon sun cast a warm glow on the Cruso NC valley. The day was coming to an end.  Our riding at this point was mild, with the edge taken off; some two hundred and eighty miles had been logged across a wide variety of terrain.  As we made our approach to the Blue Ridge Motorcycle Campground, Richard buzzed by in the opposite direction on his Buell Firebolt. Cool. We’d see Richard later. For now, we were looking forward to a hot shower, and a good meal, some conversation with fellow riders, and of course, sleep.  Riding into BRMC, the camp was peaceful, with other riders at various points of embarkation.  The bikes were shut off, and allowed to rest as Chan and Bill entered the main office to greet the owner Phil.  Camp was made quickly, complete with a “parking garage” for the bikes -- Nice, no morning dew. Showering and a change of clothes was followed by dinner.

 

 

 Richard arrived and joined us. For Steven and Bill, this was the first time meeting Richard.  Richard had been on the road since Monday, having ridden from Savannah, GA, up into Virginia, and now to BRMC to meet us, all on his newly acquired Buell. He remarked on how the bike handled with razor precision, and his ability to adapt to the new riding position and performance characteristics – very cool bike; it must have the shortest wheel base of any sport bike on the market. 

Richard and I have ridden thousands of miles together, but I have never written a journal about one of our trips.  So an introduction is in order.  I have known Richard most of my life.  When I was 10 or 12, he was one of those few, rare, "cool adults".  We kept in touch over the years, and he invited me on my first motorcycle trip to the mountains, showing me his favorite roads, restaurants, and campgrounds.  We have toured together at least once a year for the last 6 years or so.  He is a great rider and a great friend. 

We retired for the evening, a successful day of riding behind us. Sleep came easily…

 

 

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