September 22

I awoke about 4AM, to the sound of pouring rain.

I got up about 6 and checked the weather.  We were on the southern end of a band of rain that was moving slowly east.  It looked like things should be dry 50 miles to the south, but the forecast for Panama City was calling for scattered thunderstorms.  I didn't like that, not because I don't like riding in the rain (it really doesn't bother me), but because my rear tire was just about bald.  I had replaced the front just before the trip, but thought the rear had enough meat to make it.  I guess our spirited riding over the last two weeks had taken it's toll.  I would be OK as long as the pavement stayed dry, but wet might be tricky.

I had breakfast at the lodge, and was on the road by 8.  The fast route home takes me through Atlanta and Columbus, Georgia, with about half of the trip being Interstate.  But I had a back-road route layed out that I had never tried, that took me far to the west of Atlanta, keeping me out of it's urban sprawl and traffic.  It also kept me in the mountains longer.  It seemed like a good idea.

I eased down the mountain in heavy fog and showers.  The weather improved at Dahlonega, but worsened again as I traveled west.  On some little twisty road, I was feeling my way along in pea-soup fog, when I came up behind 3 bicyclists, riding THREE ABREAST IN MY LANE!  What a bunch of idiots!  I have a super-loud horn on the FJR, and I gave it a workout on those nitwits.

After about 20 miles of thick fog, the weather cleared and the pavement dried to the point that I could ride normally.  Northeast Alabama has some nice hills and great roads, and I got to enjoy them all by myself today.  My route took me through the Talladega National Forest, and past Mt. Cheha, the highest point in Alabama (2405 feet doesn't sound like much, but, hey, it's Alabama).  The roads were very pretty, in good shape, and deserted.

I thought I was going to stay dry, until I approached Dothan.  A huge black wall of cloud stood in my way.  It looked like the road might bear east far enough for me to skirt around it, but no such luck.  It POURED.  I took it easy on the throttle, and the back tire never slipped.

I was home around 6:30, 3 hours later than if I had taken the "fast route" home.  Lana cooked steak and popped a bottle of our favorite red wine.  It was good to be home.

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