Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
Adventures in Sport
Touring with the Honda ST 1100, 1300 and the BMW 1200RT
Exploring North America...One Road
at a Time
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Guy
Boutin's Motorcycle Touring and Travel Pages
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Day 7 The morning was a carbon copy of yesterday's. Misty, with high clouds clinging to the nearby mountains. I slept well again last night. My sleeping bag and Therm a Rest seemed extra comfortable this trip. Perhaps I'm just older now and less fussy about what it takes to make a good nights sleep. Everyone was in the mess hall by the time I started to move around. I skipped breakfast again, and just hung around. The train was leaving at 9, and I worked around that. I checked in with Peter who was riding over to South Carolina to see some old friends from State College. He said he'd see us this afternoon. Today's ride is not as long as the the Friday ride. We try to get back to the campground kind of early so guys can't get squared away for their ride home on Sunday. On this morning I decided to install the low beam on my 1300, which I've never done before. Motormac and another rider saw me struggling and came over to lend assistance. We came in through the back and under at first, but it was being stubborn. After about 30 minutes we managed to get the old unit out, and stick the new one in. It is not as easy at looks. Why Honda makes something like this difficult I don't know. They have to know bulbs go out, and need replacing, so why not make it easy? With my bulb repaired I took the ST to the que line and prepared for the morning ride. Uncle Phil gave the usual briefing. We added a few riders and dropped a few. We had about 15 riders in the train. We cautioned everybody about wet leaves, and poor visibility the first few hours of the the ride. I was glad to see Dan Shankle in the line to ride with us. I met him last night at the campfire. He came in yesterday from Myrtle Beach on a 06 1300. He didn't even know we were here. He just told his wife he was taking off for a couple of days, and showed up in the Blue Ridge and found us. He's a firefighter and a great guy, even though he does look like Dudley Do Right. Riding sweep today will be Jay in his MR2. His 1300 is in the shop, so he did the next best thing, and made the ride in his sports car. Our line left the campground headed for the Parkway. Wet leaves littered 276 as we made the climb up the mountain, no leaning was possible. Any road that leads up to the Parkway is going to twisty, yet to see one what wasn't. On the Parkway we went north today, looking for the road Uncle Phil found yesterday. Quickly we were immersed in thick blanket of fog. It was worse then yesterday. I couldn't see a thing. Soon all the 1300s in the line had their 4 ways on. At Mt. Pisgah, I had a real fear of a blue hair leaving the resort and taking someone out. The breadcrumb was waiting at SR 151 and I went left to start down the mountain. What a great road this is. Too bad this day it was wet, and peppered with leaves. Lots of great curves, many of them very tight. "Dang this road is good, I gotta come back to it when the conditions are better." It is kind of narrow, and if running downhill, tricky. We were halfway down when we met a tour bus. He didn't leave us much room. "What is HE doin on this road?" Probably new driver to the area. He needed to get on the Parkway back north, near Asheville, where the approaches are not so demanding. Everyone made it down the challenging road without incident. I was a little worried about Jay in the car when he found the bus. He later told me it was a tight squeeze. Uncle Phil lead us into a big con store on the busy highway near town. It was a welcome stop. We stopped often because part of the Blue Ridge is the socializing. I enjoyed the conversations. I commented to Annette about riding pillion with her husband Pat. "Sweetie I dunno how you do that. I'd be a nervous wreck, sitting back there." "Well you mostly don't think about it, I have to trust him." "I guess that's the part I'm missing, anyway you do good back there, I've been behind y'all a time or 2 in the train." I made a few phone calls back home, lots of big football games today, but I wouldn't let that prevent me from being out here. We followed Uncle Phil down the highway to Leicester and I saw the cafe we ate breakfast at last year. Good food. Uncle Phil took us to SR 209 to Hot Springs. What a great ride this was. The road broke into fast leaners and hard twisting turns. I don't recall my 1300 ever handling better. I leaned her with confidence and awareness. The bike seem to stick to the pavement. It was a great run into Hot Springs. Lunch was at the Smoky Hollow Grill. A down home place with friendly help. I was kidding with our young waitress, and just because of me she's going to "dog anyone coming in here from Alabama." "Well they're not all like ME baby." She looked down at me and said, "of that I'm sure of." Lunch was good, and we mounted back up in the parking lot. It is here where some of the best plans can go astray. We left the cafe and retraced our way back on 209, looking to go to Crabtree Mountain. Somehow our sweep didn't get the message and he went the wrong way, and took 2 riders with him. Running 209 the opposite way put the sun in our face. The glare put a damper on things because it was hard to see the roadway. You can see what I'm referring to in the video. After shredding 209 again we turned off for the run up to Crabtree. The surface is not as good as most of the roads in the area. It rolls past farms and homes and we begin the long ascent to the top. I followed the bikes in front, but picking the proper line in right handers was almost impossible. I really don't like being too close to the yellow line on blind curves, I fear a stray vehicle coming over. At the crest of Crabtree Mountain we pulled
off for a photo op. A few minutes later Mark showed up, he was the last
breadcrumb dropped, back at the foot of the mountain. "So where's
Jay?" I asked. " I dunno he never showed up."
"Dang!"
Uncle Phil rushed back down the mountain to see if he could find them. "Y'all wait here, I'll be back." We stayed put for about 30 minutes. Taking pictures and having nice conversations with good folks on a mountain top, is not a bad way to pass 30 minutes.
Eventually Uncle Phil returned, minus the missing people. "Owell ya tried, they'll make it back to the campground. Chipster has a GPS he'll be able to get them back."
Our line, reduced by 3, forged on to the bottom of the mountain and back to the highway for Canton, and from there across the valley to the junction to U.S. 276. I left the train a few miles from the campground to buy something to drink for later on. They continued on without me. I also used the time to take some pictures of the surrounding area. The colors were really good, and I'd been scanning for photo ops the last 2 days. I made it back to Cruso about 15 minutes behind the train.
It was about 4 pm, we were back early by design. I used the extra time to check the video of the last few days. "I have some good footage and photos." I caught up on my journal, and generally used the time to sort out my gear and prepare for the ride home in the morning. My plan is to take an alternate route home tomorrow from usual ride through Georgia. This time I'm going to traverse Newfoundland Gap across the Smokies into the Gatlinburg area, and home via Chattanooga and Birmingham from the north instead of customary I-85 from the east. Internet research told me of a Catholic Church in Cherokee with a 9am Mass. "I'll go to church there in the morning." I had the address, but no GPS, however the location was only 1 turn removed from the highway. It was a nice afternoon at the campground and I got a lot done. It is the custom to eat steak the last night of the rally, and we do that at the Sagebrush Steakhouse in Waynesville. From the campground it is a 15 mile ride, but one of the highlights of the weekend. I was talking to Annette when I said, "well some guys are eating in the mess hall, and that is not a bad option if you don't want to get your bike back out, but it would be bad karma for us not to go eat steak tonight." Peter Menard returned from South Carolina and I spoke to him. "So how was your ride?" "It was good, great time. When are we going to eat?" "In a few." We wanted to get there early to avoid the Saturday evening rush. We had over 10 bikes in the supper train. The afternoon was perfect and we followed Uncle Phil out of the campground to Waynesville. The scenery along 276 was picture book. We went past the golf course, the Junction, and sleepy farms and homes to Waynesville. I've always enjoyed the ride into the city.
We passed the time on the benches out front. Took a few pictures and even had a local take a group pic for us. Waynesville is great place to live. Nice people in a beautiful setting. Problem is everyone is finding that out, and moving here. The city has grown immensely since my first rally here in 2001.
After a 20 minute wait we lead in to a private party room, where a helpful waitress took pretty good care of us. It was a fun time. I was sitting next to Uncle Phil and asked- "So what ya gonna do over the winter uncle?" "I dunno, hope to finish our church, and get ready for next year" "Yeah, I'm gonna make a some equipment upgrades, and see where I wanna ride next year. I still have the west coast trip I had planned in my software, I had some good roads picked out, just couldn't get to it this time." "Well I got Frost (his 3rd 1100) and the state sign thing" "Dang uncle how many times ya gonna do that?" "Depends on how many bikes I have." So it looks Uncle Phil will be on another state sign quest.
It was great meal, and a good time had by all, but it was time to head back to the campground. "No group ride going back, I think everyone knows how to get back so you're on your own," said Uncle Phil. Several us went to the nearby Shell station to top of the tanks for tomorrow's ride home. Four of us left the station together for the dark ride back to Cruso. Me, Peter, Dan, and another rider I can't remember. I took us back through town, and out 276. The ride was as in years past, was fun and reflecting. This abbreviated ride season was coming to an end for me. I'll end the year with less then 20k miles, the lowest by 10k miles in the last 8 years. This tour has reminded me how much I love Long Riding. Not far out Waynesville I noticed only 1 other light behind me. "Where'd the other 2 go?" I didn't think much of it, and at the red light at the Junction, Peter came next to me and asked the same thing. "I guess they stopped off at the store." A short while later I hit the brakes hard when a dog was standing in the road. He got out of the way without incident. Traffic was kind of thick across the valley but eventually Peter and I were crossing the bridge into the campground. I put my ST away for the night and joined a big group at the fire. We were gathered at the fire when Peter told me, "you have no brake lights, I almost rear ended you back there at the dog." "Daaaaaaaaaang" Chipster joined in, "I was wunderin, I was behind you alot today in the hills and I never saw your brake light come on, I kept thinking dang he's smooth." "Well now I hate Peter let the secret out, I was wanting everybody to think I was that good." "I'll take a look at it when I get home, I'm not gonna work on it in the field." I just have to be mindful of it on tomorrow's ride. No telling how long it has been out. A lot of talk was going on, mostly old war stories. A little while later Uncle Phil and Dudley arrived at the circle. Dudley said- "Dang I hit a deer on the way back from Waynesville." I blurted out- "you're lyin" "No I'm not, I was 2 back from you when she bolted out from my right and I T boned her at 50 mph!" "you're still lyin" "NO I'M NOT" "Dang didja go down?" "Nooooo but my bike is a mess" He lead a group of us to check it out. Sure enough his 1300 looked like it had been beat with a hammer. The front end was a wreck. Still had deer fuzz and snot in the cracks. "Man I hate that. If she was on the shoulder I didn't see her when I came by." "I don't think she was, I think it came across the yard in a full gallop and hit me" I've come to the conclusion a deer strike is just pure random. Dan was only 2 seconds behind me in the line. Why she let me go, only to bolt on Dan is anyone's guess. They are as freakish as lightening. Who gets hit and who doesn't is just totally up to chance, if you try to make sense of it you'll lose your sanity. There are things you can do to limit your exposure, but you can't eliminate them. I've seen thousands of deer over the miles, but not so much as a close call. Somehow I've always managed to see them before they see me. It is the only defense you have. But it all it takes is the one you don't see. Other than that, avoid riding at night if you have a choice. I wonder how much longer my luck will hold out, or if there is one out there with my name on it?
That kind of put a gloom on things. I went back to the fire for a few minutes then hit the shower. I ran into Big Ron in the shower house. "If I don't see ya tomorrow I'll see next time ok?" "Ok lemme know if you make it down to Florida anytime soon." Back at the tent I did some light packing but it was too dark, and my hand light was dying. "My next thing to get is one of those lights you wear on your head." The evening was mild, not at all like the nights in year's past. A couple of years ago I recall leaving here on a 28 degree morning. I was going to watch the rest of my movie but was too sleepy. Next- great ride home across the Smokies, and the end of great tour.
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