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 6 I was the last one up this morning. I skipped breakfast in the hall to get in some extra sleep. The Black Knight finally jolts me out of bed, about 8:30am. "Hey! If you're going with us, you better get going" "but its cold out there" Uncle Phil told us last night if we were going to ride the Blue Ridge, The Gap, and the Skyway, we needed to be on the road by 9am. The morning sun is bright, and it looks like its going to be a good day to ride. I love riding the hills in this area. In all my travels, I've never seen a better concentration of challenging, scenic roads. This area is becoming a mecca for east coast riders. All kinds of riders visit here to sample the riding. What makes this area so special, you never have to ride very far to find good riding, and no urban sprawl to fight through once you get here. I hook up with the gang near the cabins. Ron Epperly, Uncle Phil, The Black Knight, The Maxpower, Mark Warren, are all dressed out, and ready to go. The morning is on the cool side, and I expect even cooler weather on higher elevations at the BRP and Skyway. The pre ride briefing has us riding south on the BRP to Cherokee, then over to the Gap, and back to the Skyway. About 300 miles including connecting roads. We take 276 to the Parkway with Uncle Phil in the lead. Already we are leaning and carving, and this is just the entrance to the BRP. I take my usual spot in the rear of the pack. I love the BRP, and the 60 mile stretch from here to Cherokee, is one of the finest motorcycling roads in the country. I settle in about 50 mph. A good rider on a ST will have no problem handling the Parkway at 80 mph, but the Rangers can't handle it, and award accordingly. Its a fine morning and I quickly lose sight of
the pack. I have no desire to ride any faster. I want to be free to
look around, and see things. I just need enough speed to lean. The RVs are not yet out, and we move effortlessly down the Parkway. Quickly, we are above the tree line and treated to spectacular vistas. I'm a little disappointed the leaves are behind schedule, and are just beginning to turn color. I stop and take in my surroundings at Looking Glass Rock. These are old mountains, nothing like the Rockies. The Appalachians have round tops in contrast to the jagged points of the Rockies. These are quiet, and tired mountains. They have yielded to civilization. We reach the highest point in the Blue Ridge
and stop for pictures. Two gentleman on 80s era bikes are taking in the
views. They take this picture for us. After our break, we begin a long descent down the mountains. The velvet smooth pavement of the BRP is a Long Riders dream come true. I ride with the pack a few miles, and enjoy watching the others. The curves come at us, and we lean the STs in Blue Angel like precision. The pack picks up the pace, and I let them go. Instead, I watch the valleys and hills go by. I see a sign for Cherokee and get confused. I'm not sure if this is the way to go or not. I know the plan was to ride to Cherokee, but the Parkway continues south another 15 miles or so. Did they continue on, or did they exit here to enter the city from the east? It's a 50-50 guess. I exit, and ride to Cherokee on US 19. I figure I can find them, no matter which direction they used. US 19 is like all approaches into Cherokee. Choked with slow moving traffic. It never ceases to amaze me how some drag ass can lock down 15 cars, and not once think about pulling off, or even notice what's going on behind them. I finally make it into town and begin the search for the others. The place is nightmare of motels, cafes, and goofy golf. Native Americans confuse me. They bemoan the loss of their ancestral ways, to the whites, but then turn right around and build a economy that caters to that element. Bingo halls, pottery, and casinos, are great sources of income, not just here, but out west also. I stopped at what looked to be like an interesting roadside booth. It had a tin roof with wooden bleachers for the tourists to sit on. I pulled in and turned the ST off. From the saddle of my bike, I watched tourists pay a Cherokee 2 dollars for the "privilege" of him posing in a picture with the kids. I thought it sad for both parties. Him for charging 2 bucks, and them for paying it. He looked to me with a embarrassed look on his face, as the man's kids ran around him. Since 9-11 many folks have stopped my company for a picture of us with our fire truck, or for us to take their picture with their children standing with us. Asking us questions about what we do etc, and then at the end, we charge them 2 bucks? Unthinkable. I rode on through town, but failed to see the other STs. I reasoned if they rode to the end of the BRP, they would be coming in near US 441. My hunch proves correct and I find the others at a gas station topping off their tanks. Reunited with the others, and with a full tank of gas, we take off for SR 28 ( I think) heading for The Gap. Brothers this is one smooooooth piece of asphalt. As many curves as Pamela Anderson. Awesome ride. I remember a long left hander, and right at the apex a big white cross stood. Obviously, a brother was killed here. The Black Knight said- "It's hard to look ahead, when your eyes are fixed on this huge white cross that comes at you at the worst possible time." "tell me about it brother" We boogie on down roads I failed to note. Like the TTT I was just riding. Soon our expedition arrives at Deal's Gap. Hundreds of bikes choke the parking lot. The atmosphere very much like Alice's. I find a place to park my bike. Uncle Phil says it wouldn't be a bad idea to get snack here. We won't have time for much else if we are going to the Skyway. On the way in some guy scolds the Maxpower for parking his bike at the front door. I snacked on beef jerky, Mountain Dew, and chips while I kicked tires with the other riders. The Black Knight is anxious to tame the Dragon, and takes off. Hell, I can't let him have all that fun, so I sit my stuff down, and take off after him. I've said it before and I'll say it again. The Dragon is fun, but its not a good ST road. This 11 mile stretch of road is chock full of tight turns. The highest concentration I've ever seen. Its hard to find the correct gear on a ST. I do most of it in 3rd. I take it easy on the way to the dam. Lots of bikes out, but the squids seem to be under control. Several roadside shrines dot the Dragon. Dale Bentley lost his life at this spot on
June 16th, 2002, when he failed to negotiate this turn, and struck a tree at a
high rate of speed. Scribbled on the sign in black marker are the words,
" He died doing what he loved." Several cages pulled off for me, including a guy on a trike. I made it to the dam overlook then turned around. This time I picked up the pace. I was riding at 80%. The many curves swept me, and I touched down a few times. Presently, 2 sport riders come from behind, and I move to the right to let them pass. The first comes around, but the second stays behind me. I move up in the saddle and account myself pretty well. The squids rode well, but didn't take any crazy chances. It was fun. The Black Knight and the others are waiting for me when I get back to the Circle of Time. We quickly load up and head for the Skyway. We still have a lot of riding ahead of us. Maxpower heads back to the campground. A short ride later we find the Cherohala Skyway, and begin a magical ride in the late afternoon. We ride west over the mountains. Once
again I quickly lose sight of the pack, so I can sightsee. What a great
road this is. Nice elevation, no traffic, smooooth surface, and lots of
scenery. The air is cool so I take a pull out, and switch to lined gloves. I rode along watching the sun over the trees in the distance. The ST responds to my leans as if we are wired together. I love this pace, fast enough to have fun, but well within the safety margin. If ANYTHING should spring up unexpected, I have more then enough time to compensate. I saw a crowd at a pull out and stopped to see what's going on. A wedding. I stand watching ,when someone waves me to a table. " so whats goin on?" "they just got married' It was a nice spot overlooking valleys, with the hills in the distance. "want some cake?" "no thanks, but some punch might be
good" I walked around the ties and coats in my Roadcrafter, and no one seemed to care. Good bunch of folks. I wished the bride and groom well, and took off to catch the others. I reach the end of the Skyway, and find the others in a parking lot. We decide to ride back to Waynesville for supper. "so whats the best way there from here?" "back over the Skyway, and to 74" "dang" I thought there was a highway to Waynesville from here. I was ready for some open riding, and instead I hear its back on the Skyway for 50 miles of twisties. Was I up to it? I've leaned so much today, I was tired. I'm hungry, and ready for Waynesville. I move up in the pack to the number 3 spot. I fall in behind Ron and begin a hard ride on the Skyway. All of a sudden I was in the mood to ride hard. Perhaps I wanted to show the others I could still sport ride when I wanted, or perhaps I just wanted some fun. I follow dead on the bikes in front, picking my line, and looking ahead. I see nothing of the things around me. Just the road ahead of me. I look just pass Ron's front tire, but a few times I picked different lines. We ride hard but within ourselves. Not one time did anyone drift across the line. Somewhere along the way, I went to the number 2 spot. It was fun, and the miles went quickly. It was the hardest I've ridden in long, long time. I was glad to see I could still do it. We shot up 441 to US 74. Both 4 lane roads, and we made good time. We spread out among both lanes, devouring slow moving cars and trucks, by the hundreds it seemed. It was almost dark when we finally arrived at the Sagebrush in Waynesville. Uncle Phil gasses up while we go get on the waiting list. The Black Knight and I munched on peanuts and chatted with a local family while we waited. It was only a short wait and soon we were seated at a big booth ordering. It was time to celebrate the lower 48 and a great ride just ended. "baby bring ME a t bone" "how ya want it cooked" Someone points Uncle Phil and I out to the waitress- "see these 2 jokers right here?, They've ridden in all 48 lower states" "thats alot ridin, I almost died going to Daytona" It was great meal with good friends. A fun, fun time. My steak was good, and fitting for a Long Rider with all 48 on his gas tank. I wanted to follow Ron E. with desert, but couldn't. I was just too full. He had some great blackberry cobbler. Our waitress comes back to tell us about her ride to Daytona on the back of Harley. After supper the rest of us gassed up, and we started back to the campground. I've always enjoyed the ride from Waynesville to the campground. I loved it when we reached the valley run out, and our lights lit up the trees and fields. Too soon we were back at the campground. We stood around the community fire on the cool night and told war stories. It was fun. We rode 322 miles. Things started breaking up around 10. Mark and Uncle Phil are riding out very early and went on to bed. I said my good nights and took a hot shower. I called home and checked in. I announced my arrival time near 3pm. "when I get home I promise to take you to supper and a movie" "OK becareful" "don't worry" In my tent, I got comfortable, and watched TV. Before I became a Long Rider, I never knew I would sleep so good in a tent. It was a fun day. The kind you dream about when your'e stuck in your office on a cold, wet January day. I savored it. I fell asleep looking forward to the ride home, despite the predictions of bad weather.
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