DOC DOES DEALS GAP

The Internet Pacific Coast Riders Club has an annual gathering at Deals Gap in North Carolina. Deals Gap is the home of the "Tail of the Dragon", an area favored by many motorcyclists due to the 318 curves in 11 miles. It's an extremely challenging area to ride and the subject of riding the "Dragon" comes up at many meetings of motorcyclists. This year I was fortunate to attend the July gathering and here's my story.

I was planning on leaving Wednesday after work so, on Tuesday night I packed. (Mistake #1, never leave packing until the night before you go. You'll either pack too much or forget things or, in my case, do both.) I'd purchased a little Monogo trailer for my bike (I named it "Dox Box") and so began putting everything I thought I might need into the trailer and the box. Since I'd planned on camping, I'd be taking even more than I usually take for a trip. Soon I'd filled the trailer and the bike so, I called it a night.

Here's a photo of my Silver Wing Scooter and Dox Box (or sometimes I call it Miss Monogo) trailer.

  Note - You can click on this or any photo below for a larger size picture.

Wednesday at work I watched the clock all day and was eagerly out the door right at 4 p.m. The temperature was about 80 degrees with low humidity and the sky was blue with puffy clouds. Perfect. I'd planned to go 200 miles to a campground outside Gettysburg, Pennsylvania with a stop at Cabella's retail store outside Allentown. Cabella's would be about 70 miles so a good place to stop, walk around and eat. I thought I'd spend about 1 hour at Cabella's and be at the campground by 9 p.m.

Heading out route 78 the traffic was heavy and slow. After about 20 minutes the sky started to darken and after about another 20 minutes the sky opened up. Riding in heavy rain doesn't bother me but the darkness and rain made riding tough. In addition, I was having a difficult time keeping my face shield fog free. Every time I opened the shield to wipe the inside, rain would fall on my glasses. After about 5 or 6 times of doing this my glasses were soaked so, I had to pull over. I was just into Pennsylvania and still had a way to go for the night so, I quickly cleaned everything off and started riding again. The shield continued to fog but the rain was letting up a bit and by the time I reached Cabella's the rain had stopped and the sky was turning blue again. Thankful the rain was over I took a quick tour of Cabella's and got back on the bike hoping to make up some of the time I'd lost. I'd hoped to get the tent up before dark and now that was looking unlikely. Jumping back on 78 I felt good at being able to ride without the rain gear on. Within 15 minutes the sky was getting dark again and, within 30 minutes there was another torrential rain fall. I put on my rain gear and continued riding even as cars started to pull over onto the shoulder to wait out the storm. My helmet shield was fogging again and nothing I could do would keep it clear. My glasses were all wet, the helmet shield was wet and fogged and the windshield was wet and fogged. About this point I realized there were more cars pulled on the shoulder than there were still on the highway so, I thought perhaps this would be a good time to stop. I pulled under the next overpass, took off my helmet and dried the shield and my glasses. I decided to try putting holes in the face shield to let air in, something I do in the winter that keeps the shield from fogging. I took out my pocket knife and cut three holes in the bottom of the shield and, as I finished the third hole my hand slipped and I cut my thumb with the knife. (Mistake #2, be really careful working with knives in the dark with wet hands. ) Here I was under an overpass at night, in the rain,  soaking wet, bleeding and watching the lightning and wondering if this was any indication of how the trip would go.

Since I had no idea how long this storm would last, I decided I'd get back on the road and make whatever progress I could. I suited up and got on my way. Since the inside of the shield was dry, it took some time for the fogging to start again. I saw the holes weren't helping much and, I wasn't about to try cutting any more until I was home. Just about when the shield was again completely fogged I saw blue sky a few miles ahead. I raised the face shield, let the rain hit my face and glasses and pushed on. At least I could see even if the rain stung my face. Within 10 minutes the rain had stopped and the sky was blue again. I left the  rain gear on in case the rain started up again. The next 50 miles or so was pleasant riding and I made it to the campground about 10 p.m. Not too bad considering the weather. I wanted the tent up quickly in case the rain started again,  then, I would have dinner. As I put the tent up I realized I'd forgotten the rain fly (remember Mistake #1?) and also my sleeping mat. I rigged up a tarp over the tent, had dinner of yogurt and humus and climbed into the tent. Without a mat it was only the sleeping bag between me and the ground. Still, it had been a tough ride so after a bit I managed to get some sleep.

Thursday arrived bright and sunny and, after a hot shower I was on the road. Stopping at the first coffee place I saw, I noticed a Tupperware Store in the strip mall. Since my Silver Wing sports "Body by Tupperware" stickers, I thought a shot of my ride in front of the store was appropriate. 

Here's my scoot at the Tupperware store.

After eating at the "Blacktop Cafe" (coffee and cereal in the parking lot) I hopped back on the interstate and continued on.

The weather was perfect, I was listening to tunes and the miles flew by. Pennsylvania became Maryland, then I was in West Virginia, then Virginia. The scenery was beautiful, traffic light and I wasn't at work so, life was good. Somewhere in Virginia a light in my rear view mirror caught my eye. I could see a motorcycle about 10 car lengths back and even that far away I knew it was a PC. Within seconds the black Pacific Coast flew by doing about 80, the rider giving me a wave and a beep as he went passed. Assuming he was also heading for the Gap, I took off after him hoping Miss Monogo would handle the 85+ mph speeds needed to catch him. I caught up to him and alongside and held out the part of my jacket where the IPCRC patch is. After a moment he nodded and waved and dropped in behind me. I thought he was going to pull over so we could talk but he didn't so I kept on going. Just before the next exit he pulled past me and put his blinker on. I followed thinking maybe he wanted to talk after getting off the highway since that would be safer but when he hadn't pulled over after 1/4 mile off the highway I decided he wasn't going to the Gap after all. I made a U-turn and got back on route 81. About 10 minutes later the black PC was again passing me and this time he pulled over. He was Ken from Pennsylvania and was heading to the Gap. He'd gotten off for gas but, not finding a station he came back to catch up with me. We both needed gas so we got off at the next available station and filled up. Ken had no real agenda while I was heading to get on the Blue Ridge Parkway near Roanoke and ride it south. Ken decided to join me so, off we went. The interstate to Roanoke went well and by 2 p.m. we were riding up the entrance to the BRP. At the end of the entrance ramp we came upon a small 2 lane road. At the stop sign Ken and I looked at each other. "It looks like someone's driveway" I said, Ken laughed and told me that was what he had been thinking too. We turned south, saw we were at mile marker 122 and continued on our way. Within minutes we could see this was a motorcyclists dream road. Almost no traffic, no intersections, beautiful scenery, who could want more? Ken, an excellent rider, kept up a spirited pace and I kept up with him for a while. It's times like this I remember why I love riding solo so much. Though I love the company of other bikers, I much prefer a slower pace than most and, like the freedom of stopping where and when I want. After a bit I found it too stressful to keep up so, I slowed down and stopped trying to keep Ken in sight. Thus, we fell into a pleasant afternoon of riding, Ken riding at his pace, me at mine. Every half hour or so Ken was kind enough to wait at a lookout area to make sure I was ok. We'd chat quickly and each go off again. It was the best of all worlds for me, my own pace and a buddy to share the ride with, though I did feel bad about holding Ken up.

By 5:30 p.m. we were at about mile 240, the Doughton Park rest area,  which has the only gas station on the entire 500 mile plus BRP. By gas station I mean 2 pumps, not some big gas plaza where many cars can pump at once. We gassed up and decided to eat dinner at the little cafe there. I pulled my scooter along the curb, intending to make a hard left so the trailer would be behind me and I wouldn't have to back it up. As I slowed for the turn, I made a rookie error and put my right foot down while the bike was still moving. (Mistake #3, don't put your feet down while the bike is moving!) The toe of my right boot hit the curb and twisted forcing my heel against the bike, twisting my foot well beyond the normal range of motion. Back and forth 3 times before I could stop the bike. Intense pain washed up from my foot to my head and my vision went blank for a second. Next thing I knew 2 bikers were standing next too me, one saying "I saw the whole thing, did you break your foot?" over and over in a much too excited tone. He almost sounded hopeful that he'd seen something worth while. I finally managed to mumble an "I don't know yet" and got the bike on the side stand. I sat for a moment and tested my foot by putting a little weight on it. I was pretty sure it wasn't broken but I knew I'd done damage to something. I hobbled into the cafe where we ended up sitting next to the 2 hopeful bikers. They explained what they saw to Ken who, in parking his bike had missed the action, and asked a few more times about my foot. Now they actually did sound concerned and offered advice and sympathy. We had a pleasant dinner and chatted with the bikers about places we'd been, roads we'd ridden and once we shouldn't miss. Then, we were on our way again around 6:30 p.m.

Just before we rode off Ken said he thought we were about 119 miles from Asheville so, we both noticed when, a mile or so down the road, we saw a sign saying "Ashville 126 miles". After riding for what seemed like about 40 minutes we passed another sign, this one saying "Ashville 119 miles". Ken pulled over and we looked at each other. At first neither of us said anything. Nothing needed to be said. We'd only traveled 7 miles in the last 40 minutes and just about 130 miles in about 4 hours of riding.  I'd planned to spend the night at a campground in Caruso N.C., south of Ashville but that was beginning to look very unlikely. Ken suggested we look for a place for the night but since it was only around 7 and I was to meet some friends south of Ashville at 10 the next morning, I wanted to try to at least get to Ashville. Ken, an agreeable fellow, said that was fine and away we went.

Although we had several hours of daylight left, the mountains and trees were beginning to block some of the sunlight from actually reaching us. As we rode into the shadows we could feel the cooler air coming off the mountains. We started watching the elevation signs more closely. Doughton Park had been at 3700 feet. Now we were seeing signs for 3800 and 3900 feet and we continued to ride higher. As the sun got lower and we rode higher I started to get beyond a comfortable temperature in my summer riding gear. Ken was still riding ahead so I was reluctant to stop and put on heavier gear. I toughed it out and after I saw a sign for 4000 feet I was getting ready to pull over when the next sign came up showing 3900 feet. I decided to hold off changing gear and sure enough, the elevations continued to drop. The sun was pretty far down now and we were still at elevations over 3000 so, it wasn't warm but it wasn't uncomfortable as we continued our ride down the mountain.

We continued on seeing signs showing Ashville closer and closer and by the time we were about 50 miles away, it was completely dark. The night had cooled considerably and riding the twists and turns was getting more difficult in the dark and cold. I thought I was feeling cooler every mile and I began to watch the elevation signs again. We were really climbing now, Buck Creek Gap showing around 3300 feet and 10 miles later at Green Knob we were at 4700 feet. When I next caught up with Ken he was at the Balsam Gap overlook where the elevation was over 5317 feet. 

Here's Ken and me at the rest area.

      Can you tell we're cold ?

It was pretty cold now but neither of us wanted to stop so we kept pushing on. Ken took off and the road was now very hard to see. My headlights were no match for the darkness and I was forced to ride fairly slowly to keep from riding off one of the curves. Suddenly up ahead I saw car taillights. We hadn't passed anyone or been passed in hours so I had no idea where this person had come from but I pushed hard to catch up, really accelerating at any straight area and only braking for the curves. In a short time I caught up to the car and I could easily see the road ahead of it in the car's high beams. The driver must have thought me crazy to be following so closely but by doing that I was able to pick up speed. After about 20 minutes we caught up to Ken who had also slowed due to the darkness and the 3 of us rode in line the final few miles into Ashville. Ken and I located a Sleep Inn ( not cheap) and grabbed a room together at about 11 p.m.  12 hours ago I didn't know this guy and now we had a room together. Pacific Coast people are like that, good friends made fast and easily. I'd been on the road for about 15 hours and ridden just under 500 miles. A great day.

In the room I took off my boot and looked at the top of my toes which now had a purple tint. Ken said my foot was really purple and as I looked at the bottom of my foot I saw it was all deep purple. Nothing you can do for a broken toe so, I did nothing. Ken and I talked bikes for a bit, then went to sleep.

Friday was another beautiful morning and, after breakfast Ken and I headed off to the Mount Pisgah rest area to meet more PC people. When we got there we met Israel, his dad Andy, Willie, Dee and Larry. After hello's and introductions we were off again. The plan was to meet at Waterrock Knob rest area so, we broke off into groups or solos, each stopping at different rest stops and the groups changing as we met up or broke off from groups along the way. 

The Blue Ridge Parkway is a fascinating place, lot's of bikers, tourists and such. Almost a moving party. Everyone is friendly and , one of the people we got to meet was the young man from Texas who had built this teardrop trailer. He was proud of it and more than willing to show us the inside.

At Waterrrock Know, after a quick bathroom break at the rest area, we left the BRP and headed to Maggie Valley for lunch and the Wheels of Time museum.

The Wheels of Time museum is an interesting place mostly devoted to the history of American made motorcycles. There are some automobiles but they are far outnumbered by the bikes. You can see the evolution of the motorcycle from a bicycle with a motor added to where it is today. Many of the machines are totally original, many also are fully functional. 

Here's some photos from the museum.

Can you guess what this is ?  Maybe a sidecar ??

Nope, it's a Harley trike

After about an hour or so in the museum we were fully rested and so headed back to finish the last 10 miles of the BRP.

  The southern end of the BRP.

By the end of the BRP our group had broken up and I was with Israel and Andy. We couldn't find the others so, knowing no one was alone and that everyone knew the way, the 3 of us headed off. We passed through the town of Cherokee, a town apparently devoted to the Cherokee Indians and the casino and, all that entails. After that we got to Bryson City, a trashy little town filled with fast food restaurants and discount stores. These 2 towns were the only uninteresting parts of the ride. Once through Bryson City we got onto Route 28, a twisty, curvy, mountain road and Israel and Andy were in their element. They went faster and leaned further with each passing mile and I worked hard to keep up. Now I've been riding a long time and consider myself a pretty good rider but something about all the curves was getting to me. I'd been too long riding the interstates of North Jersey so, I decided to get back into the groove and to follow Israel and his dad no matter what it took. So, as the miles passed I picked up my speed, leaned harder and started to regain skills lost from lack of use. By the time we arrived at the Deals Gap Motorcycle resort it was about  4 p.m., it was hot, I was sweaty but really riding well, like I used to do many years ago. 

Here's a shot of Deals Gap "resort".   Impressed ?

After a quick drink Israel said "Let's do it" and with that we were off to face the Dragon.

Now, you have to understand, the internet is filled with sites covering how hard the Dragon is to ride, showing the crashes on the Dragon, telling you how to ride the Dragon and not go off one of the drop offs. I found all of this pretty intimidating and, it had weighed on my mind both in deciding whether or not to come at all and, once I got here, on how to ride it. I'd decided on my way down to take in nice and slow so as not to risk life and limb but, that caution was now "out the window" since I was fresh from my "schooling" keeping up with Israel and his dad so, I made up my mind I would do whatever it took to keep up with them and really ride the Dragon. 

Andy took the lead, Israel was next then me. We started off at a fast pace and one of the first curves was a very hard right turn, over 90 degrees. I was about 5 feet behind Israel and had to lean way over to both make the curve and keep up. That done, I felt great. The next 317 curves and 11 miles took about 20 minutes to complete, lean right, then hard left, then right, right again, then left. There can't be more than about 1/2 mile of the 11 that is straight. All the way I stayed right behind Israel secure in the fact that there was no way I was ever going to run into him. For a time I thought I might be an annoyance, being so close behind him but then I thought there was as much a chance he would be looking back as there was he would hit his brakes - i.e no chance. Up ahead Andy was riding the Dragon as he'd been riding all day, that is with feet up on the highway pegs, kind of slouching a bit and looking about as relaxed as you can imagine. He was riding an 1986 Honda Magna while Israel was on a 1000 cc sport bike yet, the two of them seemed about matched and each of them made the ride look effortless. I kept up but, it was a mighty effort for me and worth every minute of it.

If you wonder how fast we were moving, here's a shot of Israel.

And a shot of Andy

Have you ever seen a guy riding more relaxed ? And this is on the Dragon!

We came to the end of the Dragon and pulled over next to a beautiful lake. This area of Tennessee's is filled with lakes formed by the dams constructed by the Tennessee Valley Authority. It makes for some very beautiful scenery and excellent riding roads since there are no intersections and not much traffic.  A minute after we pulled over a biker pulled up to me and said "Boy you can really make that Scooter move. I tried to catch up with you and got close  a couple of times but I just couldn't keep up in the turns." I have to say, I don't recall when I heard sweeter words. I felt like I'd reached up, given the Dragon a big ole pinch on the cheek and told him "You ain't so bad!"

Andy and I pulled our bikes over to admire some dune buggies that had come to ride the Dragon too. While I was chatting up the owners, one of the ladies wandered over to Andy and became quite chummy with him. After a bit I began to get concerned that whoever came with the lady might take offense at her interest in Andy so, I bid the buggy people goodbye and pulled the bike up near the road. Andy took the hint, said goodbye to his new friend and took the lead back through the Dragon. He pushed hard but was slower than our way out. I guess he took pity on me, still, the ride back was fast and challenging and quite a blast.

We got back about 5 and it was time to clean up for dinner. About 5:30 the Pacific Coast people gathered and headed out back down Route 28 and it was quite a sight to see. There were about 30 PCs and perhaps another 15 bikes so, as far ahead as I could see and as far behind as my mirror showed were bikes twisting and turning, leaning hard and following one another through the curves. After about 15 minutes we arrived at the Fontana Resort, a beautiful place I was told was over 100 years old. It was hard to imagine what such a beautiful resort was like 100 years ago in such a rural area. It must have been a sight to see.

There were about 50 people at the dinner and, since it was buffet, we all moved from table to table, renewing old friendships and making new ones. Mike from Arizona was there, people from NY, Ohio, Florida, Texas, Louisiana and lot's of other states. It was a blast meeting people I'd chatted with by email for the last several years. It's hard to explain what PC people are like but here's something that might shed a little light on it. The first couple of times I bought something from someone on the PC list I was surprised to have them tell me they would ship it right out and, I could send a check when I got around to it. Not only were they willing to take a check but they weren't even going to wait to get it before sending the item to me. These were items well over $50 and I was new to the group. This wasn't my usual internet experience where few people trust anyone. I quickly learned this was just the PC way. Another example is the PC member who told us at dinner that when he'd been out of work last year and money was tight, he'd been told to come to PC gatherings if he had enough money for gas to get there. He did and all his other expenses were covered by others. They just wanted him there and money wasn't an issue. Think what it's like being in a room with 50 people who are willing to trust you, are willing to help you when you need it even though you may not ever have met and you'll have an idea of what it's like to attend a PC gathering. This group is unlike any other I've ever seen.

After dinner people left a few at a time and about 9 p.m. I saddled up and headed back. I was having a great time riding the twisties when I rounded a curve and saw something that made me pull over and stop. I was facing one of the lakes and there was about 4 feet of pure white fog floating above the blue water. Above the fog and across the lake were mountains covered with evergreens and above that the blue sky and white clouds were joined by great streaks of pink and orange from the sunset. It was an awesome sight and I had to sit there for a while and take it in. A beautiful way to end the day.

Afterward I rode back to the motel where everyone was outside talking, drinking and telling lies. (I heard reference to "Beer Nuts" but didn't see any around. Only later did I find out that Andy had ridden to get the beer. He had to go about 5 miles down part of the Dragon to get it. He made 2 trips, each time buying a 12 pack and holding it between his legs, with his knees, while he rode back 5 miles through the twisties of the Dragon!  Thus, the reference to "Beer Nuts".   I thought that beer tasted a little funny!)

I joined the party (tho' I told no lies since my stories are always at least based on an element of truth! ) and after a little while someone came up to me and asked if I owned the trailer. When I told him I did he said he had bad news for me, one of the bearings was wearing out. He told me he and some others were admiring it and someone had spun the wheel and there was a clicking noise and vibration could be felt in the arm holding the wheel on. We wandered over to the trailer to check it out and were immediately joined by about 10 bikers. It's funny how mechanical problems draw bikers like light draws moths. We took a look, spun the wheel and heard the clicking. Opinions were offered and debated but the consensus seemed to be this was a pretty serious problem that needed immediate attention. Since I had 900 miles to ride to get home, I appreciated the help. The thought was offered to take the wheel off and examine the bearings which we tried to do. Despite the fact that I'd packed almost every tool I owned, I didn't have the allen key needed to take the wheel off. We split up asking other members if they had a 9mm allen key and, despite the fact that among all the bikers there, there surely was enough talent and spare parts to build a small motorcycle, no one had the tool we needed. So, there was nothing left to do but wait for morning. Nothing further left to discuss or watch, the crowd broke up and we all returned to our respective groups to have another beer and tell or listen to some more lies. After a few hours of that people began to head for bed and I did as well.

Israel and Andy had been kind enough to offer to share there room with me, a room that was quite bare having only a double bed, a set of bunk beds and some metal shelves. It was extremely clean, however, had air conditioning and some really smart looking black and white checkerboard flooring. I liked the flooring the most since it reminded me of the winners flag at racing events. Andy and Israel had turned in earlier and when I came into the room I saw how much these two really loved motorcycles. Andy was snoring and doing his best to imitate a Harley with straight pipes. Israel chose another orifice for his bike imitation and sounded like some small cc bike trying to be kick started. Fortunatately, his bike wouldn't start. I brushed and peed and climbed into the top bunk and was surprised to find an extremely comfortable mattress and pillow. This place knew where to spend it's money and where to cheap out. Tired, comfortable and listening to the boys motorcycle sounds, I fell asleep and dreamed of Dragons.

Saturday was another beautiful day and, since there was nothing planned for breakfast, people left on their own and in groups to ride various routes. I hitched up Miss Monogo and headed down Route 28 for Robbinsville. I was still full of piss and vinegar from yesterday's riding so I tore through the  curves at a fast clip. I listened carefully for any sounds from the trailer but didn't really expect any yet. The boys last night had told me that the first sign of bearing failure would be the wheel getting hot, one biker saying it would get so hot you could see it. Several told me that all bearings get warm and that shouldn't concern me and that only a very hot bearing was a problem. So, I continued having a blast, back and forth and it was about 15 minutes before a mental picture of the local map popped into my head and I realized I was heading the wrong way. I pulled over, checked the paper map and sure enough, I had to go back. Well, I had no where to be today anyway and this road was great so, I turned around and attacked the twisties again. I arrived back at the motel and hoped no one would see me and ask why I was back so soon. I quickly made the left turn onto Route 129 and saw the sign Robbinsville 18 miles. Immediately the road became a downhill stretch of quick back and forth curves that were much more challenging than the ones I'd just ridden. It wasn't until I arrived back home in New Jersey that I learned this part of 129 is part of the Dragon too and that's why it seemed so challenging. I rode it about 5 miles till the hill bottomed out and I pulled over to look at the huge dam on my left. The locals call this Fugitive Dam because it was used for the scene in the Fugitive movie where Harrison Ford's character jumps from the dam into the lake below. I've no idea how high this dam actually is but I do know the stunt man must be an incredibly brave person to take a leap from that high.

At this point I'd been riding about 45 minutes at some pretty good speeds so I decided to check the bearing. I put my hand close and felt no heat so I quickly tapped it with my fingertips expecting to feel some sting but there was nothing. I tapped again, this time for a bit longer and still felt nothing so I grabbed the wheel with my hand. It was cool to the touch, not even slightly warm ! Hmmm. That done I remounted and rode the rest of the way to Robbinsville.

The "boys" and I had discussed where I might find a bearing and, other than the obvious thought of a trailer store, a boat dealer was mentioned so I was pleased to see "The Boat Store" as I rolled into Robbinsville. I walked inside and told my tale of woe. Thought I had a bike, not a boat, the owner was more than willing to come outside and take a look at the trailer. Getting down on his hands and knees he looked under it and said "Oh, we don't carry those bearings, they're from a lawn mower." "Excuse me?" I responded but what I was really thinking about was driving 85 mph on Route 81 when I was catching up with Ken. I knew the trailer had high speed tires but did the integrity of the trailer really depend on lawn mower bearing"  He repeated himself and gave me directions across town to the local mower shop. I thanked him and headed for my scoot but, I'd forgotten I was down south and that's not the way things work here. He asked me where I was from, where I was going and similar questions. He told me he had "people" up in my area of Jersey and other such things. We had a nice chat after which he repeated the directions to the mower shop, wished me a good ride and went back inside. As I rode away I marveled at how different it was here than in Jersey. Up north the mere mention of a motorcycle would have been enough for the owner to have responded "We don't handle motorcycle parts" and ignored me. Moreover, once business had been conducted, up north that was the end of things. Here, chatting is a way of life.

The directions to the mower store were correct and I walked in and told the lady behind the counter my tale of woe. She showed no emotion as she said "I'll have Fred take a look as soon as he's free". I thanked her and sat in the waiting area pretending to read a magazine while I tired to follow the conversation of a couple of locals. Their accents were so thick that all I could understand was something about a tractor and someone named Willy. Beyond that the vowels were too long and the speech too slow to make out. A couple of minutes later Fred came over and I once again told my tale. We walked outside and Fred got on the ground to look at the wheel. Oh yeah he said, those are lawn mower bearings and I have them in stock. Amazed but grateful I thanked him and started back inside to buy the bearings but, this being the south, there was the mandatory chatting. He asked where I was from and where I was heading. He too had "people" up in Jersey. We slowly made our way back inside and I paid the $16 for the 2 bearings I might need. He wished me a good ride and I was off.

A quick stop at the local hardware store and I had the tool I need to take the wheel off. Since I also now had the spare bearings, I felt quite confident and was ready to take off and see some of the surrounding area. After a quick breakfast I headed out for the Cherohola Skyway. The Cherohala Skyway winds up and over 6,000 foot mountains for 15 miles in North Carolina and descends another 21 miles into the deeply forested backcountry of Tennessee. The road crosses through the Cherokee and Nantahala National Forests thus the name "Chero...hala".  The skyway connects Robbinsville, North Carolina, with Tellico Plains, Tennessee. It begins at Santeetlah Gap on the North Carolina side (mile marker 0, at elevation 2660 feet), the road quickly twists and ascends to Santeetlah, an overlook at mile marker 11, the highest overlook at elevation 5390. Along this section you ride the mountain top for another seven miles to the Tennessee state line. At mile marker 16 the descent starts into the Tellico River basin and ends at the sleepy town of Tellico Plains. When I left the cafe from breakfast, it was hot and very humid. As I road the wonderful sweeping curves of the skyway and gained elevation, the air grew cooler and drier until I came to the highest outlook. Here there was fog rolling in and it was a bit chilly. A few minutes later it began to rain lightly. I continued on enjoying the sights and views, the road and all the other bikers riding by and eventually began to warm up a bit as the road began it's descent to Tennessee. A while late the skyway ended and I was in Tellico Plains. Here I took a quick look at the map and saw Georgia wasn't too far away, maybe 60 miles. I'd ridden this far south, I thought it would be cool to be able to say I'd ridden to Georgia so, off I went. Most of the ride was through farm land or at least undeveloped areas. I passed through a few little towns most of which were unremarkable but I do recall both Duck Town and Turtle Town since these are obviously strange names for towns. Eventually I rolled into a small town called Copperhill and, after a couple of blocks pulled to the side of the road to see how much farther I had to go to get to Georgia. I heard a voice and looked up to see a young woman standing in the doorway of the store I'd stopped in front of. "Can I help you?" she asked and I explained I was only looking at the map to see if I could find Georgia. "You found it" she said and pointed to the corner and said "When you went through the traffic light, you came into Georgia". She walked over to the bike and began telling me about the town, she said it had two police departments and other such things due to sitting on the border of 2 states. After a pleasant chat (she didn't mention if she had "people" in Jersey, perhaps I should have asked her) she gave me directions to get to Route 129 in North Carolina and they began with "Go to the traffic light and make a left". So, I thanked her and road off and, after almost a half hour, having seen no traffic light, I pulled over to review my map. I saw that I still wasn't at the road I needed and so I continued on and reflected on the difference "Go to the next traffic light" means in Jersey from what it means in Georgia. Eventually I came upon the road I needed and headed back towards North Carolina.  

The ride back toward the motel was quite pleasant and unremarkable until I'd arrived back at Robbinsville. Here the sky grew quite dark, quite fast and the skies opened up. I pulled over and before I could get my gear on I was soaking wet. I rode back toward Deals Gap trying quite hard to keep my face mask clear and my vision clear. The rain continued until I was about 1 mile from the motel and, as I rolled into the motel parking lot I noticed lots of people sitting around and no one was wet. The ground wasn't wet either. Strange, it had poured like heck for 17 miles but the storm hadn't even come close to the Dragon. 

Deals Gap Motorcycle Resort sells Dragon decals that many riders put on their bikes once they've ridden the Dragon. I was going to buy some too but also wanted to put one on Miss Monogo. I didn't think it would be right to put a sticker on the trailer unless I'd taken it through the Dragon so, filled with confidence from the day before, possible bad bearing or not, I headed out to tackle the Dragon with the trailer in tow. On the way out I ended up behind a group of Harley riders who either had just learned to ride the day before or, were trying to set the record for the slowest pass on the Dragon. About 1/2 way through I pulled over onto some gravel on the side of the road and drank some water so as to give the Harley people time to move on. After about 5 minutes I saddled up again and began really flying through the curves. It amazed me that I couldn't feel the trailer behind me and so was riding as if it wasn't there. Despite the 5 minutes lead I'd given to the Harley folks, I still caught them before the end of the Dragon. When I finished, I pulled over and chatted with some sport bike riders and waited until no riders had passed for a while, wanting to make sure my return ride would not be behind another group. When no one had passed for almost 10 minutes I jumped on my scoot and took off to once again fight the Dragon. This ride was much more fun than the one out and I rode almost the entire way with no one in front of me. Since people stop along the way there's always the chance someone will suddenly appear up ahead and that did happen to me but luckily they were good riders and never held me up. On my return ride I spotted a group of people off to the side, one holding a camera on a monopod. I'd no idea what this was all about but as I rode by I turned, waved and gave the photog a big grin. Only later did I learn these were the boys from Killboy.com, professional photographers who take photos of the riders. My pic ended up on the site's main page.  Here's one of the pictures he took of me.

Someone told me when they saw this picture that it looked a bit dangerous waving while I was leaning through a curve. I guess by that point I was taking the Dragon for granted. I was lucky and didn't get bit by the Dragon. Others weren't so lucky that day. There were 3 reported accidents on the Dragon that day including one head on collision between two bikes. I'm sure there were many more unreported incidents. One of the accidents involved a young lady my friend Pogo had met earlier. As they talked before running the Dragon she explained that she usually rode in shorts and a Tee shirt but thought full riding gear more appropriate for a run through the Dragon. A short while later Pogo came upon her again, she was being helped to get up and her bike was lying off the side of the road. She'd lost concentration rounding a curve and had ridden off the road. As Pogo helped her and saw she had no serious injuries, she said  to him "It sure was a good thing I hit that tree." Pogo struggled unsuccessfully not to laugh and apologized to her for doing so but said she hoped she understood how strange that sounded. When asked why she felt lucky to hit the tree she answered that had she missed it, she would have gone off the cliff and fallen 50 feet onto rocks. Sometimes the Dragon only takes a little nibble when it could have taken a great big bite.  Don't ever take the Dragon for granted.

By the time I got back to the motel it was time to clean up. Once everyone was back it was time for the mandatory group bike photos. Here's some shots of the PC group bikes.  Bikes in front of the "Resort" motel.

     Bikes near the "Resort" sign. The road in the background is "Wheelie Hell" and part of the Dragon.

After pictures were taken we headed for dinner. Tonight it was being hosted by the owners of the resort in the new "Dining Room" (read big screen porch") and our group was the first to eat there. We all sat down to a tasty serving of BBQ pork sandwiches, coleslaw, baked beans and watermelon for desert. Excellent southern fare. Again we all moved around during dinner, telling each other where we'd ridden, what we'd seen and such. Then, it was time for the auction. Many of the PC gatherings in the east include an auction to benefit the Christoffer Carstanjen Memorial Fund. Chris was a PC rider, on his way to a PC ride in California on September 11, 2001. His plane from Boston was one of the ones that was hijacked and flown into the WTC. He was a well known and well loved member of the group and went by the name of "Capt. Tupperware". So, many members contribute items for auction and/or solicit vendors to contribute items. This year the auction raised over $1000 for the fund. What a group. 

After dinner we all returned to the front of the motel where the party continued late into the night. I tired around 11 and headed off to bed. Fortunately Israel and Andy were imitating smaller motorcycles tonight.

Sunday arrived with good weather. Some people had left early but the ones who were left packed up and headed off to Lynn's in Robbinsville. Lynn's, a local diner, is usually closed on Sundays but they agreed to open it just for our group. A wonderful buffet breakfast was served and during breakfast one of the members went around collecting $1 from everyone to give to Kyle. Kyle was the son of a member and it happened to be his birthday. After breakfast a cupcake with a candle appeared, we all sang Happy Birthday and Kyle was given his present of $35. I expect Kyle will long remember his 16th birthday, a motorcycle trip with his dad and 34 strangers singing to him. After breakfast we saddled up, many people left for home and about 10 of us headed out for a ride.

Some shots of Lynns.   

We wandered through the countryside and after an hour or so I bid everyone goodbye and headed back north. I took Route 40 from Ashville to toward Route 77 North and the skies once again opened up. It rained so hard people were pulling over to the shoulder but I hung in there until the next rest area. By time I got to it the rain had almost stopped so I just got off to clean up and I heard a voice behind me asking about my scoot. It turned out the RV behind me with the trailer was a guy hauling his Bergman scooter so, we had a lot to talk about. He told me about the items he had added to the bike and then said, "let me show you" and with that he went back and opened up the trailer to show off his bike. It was a beauty and quite interesting especially the laundry basket he had installed on the back tail. The plastic basket was covered in black vinyl and had a lid he'd made. He told me he used it so his little dog could ride with him! He'd even installed a water bowl for the dog to use when they stopped. We had a good chat and then I headed back onto the interstate. Of course, as soon as I did the rain started up again and I rode in it until I reached the BRP at about 5:30 p.m. I  got on about 20 miles south of Roanoke and headed north. Now the skies were blue again, the temperature was perfect and the ride absolutely incredible. In addition, since this was Sunday afternoon, the parkway was virtually empty. In the 3.5 hours I would ride it, I saw less than 50 cars.

After riding a while I stopped at a lookout. Some of the lookouts are right along the travel portion of the parkway while others are more off the road. The one I chose was a short distance from the road and right on the ridge so the view was fantastic. A little white car was parked about in the middle of the parking area and I pulled into a space about 4 spots to his left. As I got off the scoot and turned toward his car, he gave me a little wave which I returned. Something about him seemed odd. I walked to the edge of the grass to take some pictures and when I turned around I noticed the car had been moved to the end of the parking area, perhaps 10 spots away. Further, the car was no longer parked in a spot, facing the view, it was parked across several spots with the drivers side facing the view. I thought this odd but since I'd only seen the driver in the car, thought perhaps he had parked that way so he could look at the view through the open window rather than through the windshield. As I was looking at the car and thinking this, I saw a head pop up from the man's lap area. A woman shook her head, tossing her hair, looked out the back window at me and then her head went back down to his lap area! So, now I understood. I thought about going over and asking him for directions but, then I decided that wouldn't be nice so I saddled back up and left them to their own adventures.

Here's the photo from the outlook.     I didn't get a photo of the car or what was going on inside.

I enjoyed the BRP for the next several hours and planned to stop for the night at Route 60 and look for a motel. However, the forest was quite heavy here and by 9 o'clock the roadway was completely dark. In addition, I was running out of gas and also seeing an awful lot of deer and I was afraid I would run out of gas or into a deer while coming around a curve. I decided to jump off earlier and took the exit for Route 501. Immediately at the exit was a gas station so, I gassed up and went inside to ask about a motel. The woman at the counter gave me an incredulous look when I asked about a motel and then said I'd have to go into Lynchburg to find one. I'd seen a sign at the exit that Lynchburg was 20 miles away and, now that I was out of the woods there was still some daylight and, the weather was perfect so, a final 20 mile ride was fine with me. I headed toward Lynchburg and the next sign I saw said Lynchburg 18 miles and when I saw that sign the sky was completely dark and I was in a driving rain ! How the weather changes that fast in the south I'll never understand. At this point the road was twisty and windy and had no shoulder so, there was no way I could stop. My face shield had fogged up so badly that all I could do was push it up and let the rain sting my face and cover my glasses. The only way I could see was to sit on the passenger seat so I'd look down at the road at an angle to see the fog line and follow that. Whenever a car came my way I was so blinded by the lights that I got into the routine of checking the rear view mirror to be sure no one was behind me, then, braking to a stop and waiting for the car to pass, then, immediately gunning the motor to begin moving before anyone could come up behind me. This continued for the next 13 miles which took about 30 minutes to cover at which time this tiny country road became the Lynchburg Expressway, a highway with 2 lanes in each direction. Strange!  A car pulled out of a gas station ahead and I accelerated so I could follow the car through the rain and use it's headlights to help light the way. After a mile or two the rain began to subside and it stopped by the time the signs said Lynchburg 1 mile. I rolled into town and headed for the gas station convenience store across the way and, once again found my self getting off the bike wearing a soaking wet rain suit while everyone and everything around me was dry as a bone.  No one gave me a second look so I guess they are all used to that sort of thing. I got directions to the motel from the cashier, headed on over and checked in for the night.

Monday I awoke to sunny skies but, as on several other days of this trip, that was only a tease. After breakfast I headed back to the BRP to finish it up and, the last 100 miles or so were as beautiful and scenic as the rest. 

Here's a shot of a view along the northern part of the BRP.

At one overlook there was a young lady in a truck and I asked her to take my picture. When she got out she had all she could do to keep her shorts from falling off her. They were either several sizes too big or belonged to someone else. Either way, she didn't seem too embarrassed by it and when she took the photos she needed both hands so, I got a very good look at the white panties with red hearts she was wearing. Maybe that's why I'm smiling in the picture.   

Someone who works for the BRP has a sense of humor. At a couple of places, we saw this sign.

At the end of the BRP I exited onto Route 64, headed west and took Route 81 north. The rest of the trip home was interstate and, about 1/2 of the 300 or so miles back were in heavy, driving rain.  In the daylight the fogging helmet shield wasn't quite so bad, I had my MP3 player cranking out Meat Loaf and Bruce Springsteen songs and, I spent a good part of the trip singing in my helmet, thinking of the last few days and wishing it didn't have to end. I arrived back home about 7 p.m., soaked to my skivvies and, 5 days, 8 states, 2200 miles later this adventure had come to an end.

I have to thank everyone involved in this adventure. Notice I didn't use any last names since I don't know who might not want to be associated with my ride. I would be extremely remiss, however, if I didn't thank Tim Davies for all the time and effort he put into the planning and execution of the ride and all the parts of it such as setting up the dinners and all the other many details the going into making an event like this successful. He also spends a lot of time getting Chris' auction set up and deserves to have his full name mentioned and a great big "Thank You" given to him. Tim - The IPCRC wouldn't be what it is without all you do.

Also I need to say Thanks to Francois who works at Deals Gap and also puts in a lot of time to help Tim make this event happen. I'd put Francois' last name here if I knew it but, it would really be redundant. He is, after all, Francois and in the same league as Cher or Elvis. Last names aren't needed when you arrive at this level of notoriety.  A great big "IPCRC" thanks to both of you for doing all this work for us.

Till next time --Be well, ride safe, ride often, ride the Dragon ! 

Doc