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RIDING WITH THE CLOUD GODS

Not many flatlanders get a chance to enter the cloud gods domain. Since I reside in Florida, where you can see Disney World for the top of a step ladder placed anywhere in the state, and sun is king, the cloud gods are a rumor. You cannot plan to meet these divine creatures, but must happen upon them. My meeting was quite by accident and one I will not soon forget.
Upon waking in Buford I was greeted by steel gray skies more reminiscent of Northeast Ohio on a winter morning. With the great mood I was in it could have been raining fireballs and I would still be smiling. I was in the mountains and the twisties were calling.

A quick ride up I-985 led me to Gainesville. Gainesville means only one thing to a Florida boy, but in this part of the country it is the chicken capital. Tiny white feathered felons were imprisoned in trucks loaded with cages on their way to a chicken Aushwitz. Departing this town on legendary US 129 I headed to Cleveland. I moved south from Cleveland, Ohio 8 years ago and swore I would never go back. Was I breaking my word?

The skies were getting more ominous as the ride progressed and the rain soon started to fall. The weather was turning downright nasty with fog settling in on the higher elevations. Visibility was down to 20 ft. at times and I began to question my sanity. Then it happened.

Without thinking, I had entered the realm of the cloud gods. There are a few ground rules you must obey. Proving yourself worthy is rule number one. This entails passing the tests of rain, fog and cold weather. I was up to the challenge and was rewarded by scenes of such beauty as I was struck speechless. In this land, the waterfalls flow from every corner of the mountains. The roads bend back over themselves at every turn and four wheeled vehicles are confined to their corporate office prisons.In Cleveland I picked up GA 75 north and soon entered the Chattahoochee National Forest. This is a marvelous road, but pales in comparison to what lies ahead.

A little town called Helen didn't show up on my GA map, but remarkably did show up on my North Carolina map. They are trying to convince visitors that they are the Switzerland of the South. Can you say Sound of Music, ya'all? Due to some heavy zoning, all business must take on the appearance of an alpine village. This would work if the houses also matched this architectural style, which they don't. Since I didn't have a Winnebago, I continued north.

Shortly up the road I crossed the Appalachian Trail. Some very wet and heavily laden hikers were standing alongside the road. They looked like their adventure had ended. Mine was only starting. Just south of Presley I turned west on GA 180 just because it looked interesting. Being on vacation can be such fun. GA 180 would become the Wolf later on, but that was for another day.

The first sign that appeared stated MOTORCYCLIST BURN LIGHTS. Not being one to break the law, I promptly took out my flashlights, headlight, tail light, turn signals and any other light emitting device and had a bonfire alongside the highway. I'm not sure what purpose this arcane ritual serves, but this is the south and with inbreeding and all..... :-)

Taking 64 east in NC would be one of the best moves I made this day, but it didn't seem like it at the time. It started out as a little cow path before becoming a well paved highway. In Franklin, I found the best road of the trip and maybe the best road I've ever been on. You'll have to ask for directions, but it's worth the effort. The road is Wayah Road but starts out as Old Monroe (I may be wrong on Monroe). Wayah Road will take you over Wayah Bald (5342 ft) and on to Aquone, NC. The first sign I saw proved that the cloud gods were giving another present to me. It was a usual diamond shaped yellow sign with a squiggly line. Underneath it read, "Next 26 miles." I had to wipe my glasses. Holy cow.

Deal's Gap would have nothing on this road. You run along a small river with unbelievable scenery. Much of this had to do with the amount of precipitation which caused the river to run a little harder and the waterfalls to flow a little stronger. Even with the spilled gravel in almost every corner, I had a smile on my face for the whole 26 miles. My jaw still hurts.

In Topton I picked up 129 and headed north. Lake Santeetlah had the same green color as my Glacier Green R1100RT. The bikes name is Descartes named after a famous mathematician/philosopher (guess what I do for a living). Descartes seemed to gain strength from the lake and pulled the grades with a renewed fervor. Just south of the Tenn. border I flashed past the Crossroads of Time motorcycle mecca. A quick turn around and I was in the parking lot. The rain had increased. The first words I heard out of the owner where, "You're crazy." I responded, "Hey, I'm on vacation!" Pete turned out to be a great host.

They had just opened two days earlier and he treated me like a king. While eating a very good lunch, Pete put on a video of a ZX-11 running the Gap. The bike had 5 $2500 camera on board with a toggle for the rider on the handlebars. I don't want to understate this. YOU MUST SEE THIS VIDEO! Just as life couldn't get much better I left for the Gap. 318 curves in 11 miles awaited me. Thank goodness for the rain or I might have done something stupid. As it was, I topped out at 90 mph on the hill leaving the Crossroads. After that it was mostly 2nd gear work. My arms actually got sore from all the contersteering. This is the time of year to run the Gap. Since the trees haven't leafed out yet, you can see through a corner. On a dry day this would be heaven. Before I knew it I was at the other end and turning around. This made for 636 curves in 22 miles. Yahoo! The dragon will have to wait another day to claim this rider. I believe I posted the slowest times every recorded.

Tennessee had enacted a new law directed at motorcyclists. If you put a knee down in a curve, it's 6 points on your license. So many squids are wrapping themselves around trees on the Gap they had to do something. A piece of shattered fairing at Petes sums it all up. On the fairing is the battle cry, "No Fear!"

Heading west on 64 proved to be one of my top 10 roads. The first thing I saw was the site of the Olympic Kayaking Event. The gates were already in place and the parking areas were being completed. Tenn. 67 consists of several dams, compliments of the Tennessee Valley Authority and white water rivers in between. The road is marvelous with the water on one side and
mountains all around. With the sun above and breath taking scenery all around I headed once again to a Cleveland. Can I never get away?

A Trace in Time - Riding the Natchez Trace

Perhaps the best part of the ride are the opportunities to ride on the Old Trace. The condition of these roads vary from mud/dirt to very old asphalt. To think that you are on the same road that the native Americans travelled on along with the European settlers is very humbling. Some areas are severely sunken. In fact, dust from the Midwest would settle on this
area and turn into a soft, rich loamy material. This was great for farming, but bad for wagons. In some places, the Trace would sink over 30 ft!

Indian mounds can be located throughout the area along with the foundations of a Chickasaw community. They learned from the European invaders and built forts to protect their families. Within a very small fort, they would place the women and children in the center. Around the interior perimeter they wound dig trenches. The Indians would get in the trenches and shoot at attackers through ground level holes in the fencing. Future history would show the Chickasaw involved in the Trail of Tears.
While the Chickasaw inhabited the northern section of the Trace, the Choctaw lived at the southern end. In 1820 they gave up 1/3 of their land (5.5 million acres). Ten years later they surrendered the remaining land and were moved to Oklahoma.

My favorite sections of the Trace was the ride along the Pearl River toward the southern end of the park and the crossing of the Tenn. River further to the north. The ride was completed in over a day with a stop in Tupelo for the evening. Fuel is a concern along the route as there is only one fuel station on the Trace itself. Several small towns dot the ride, but finding lodging can also be a concern. In Jackson, Miss. the Natchez Trace has a break. They are planning to make a connection there,
but for the time being you'll make a freeway run around Jackson. The southern end is also not completed and doesn't quite reach Natchez.

After the Trace I had planned on stopping at the Gulf Coast National Seashore near Pensacola, FL for the evening. This is a wonderful area with a decent, if somewhat dirty, camping area. Once I got off of US 98 and hit the freeway the thought of getting home was very strong so I pushed it on through. Louisiana and Mississippi now have 70 mph speed limits on the freeways. Alabama and Florida are, of course, lagging behind at 65. After 1127 miles that day I pulled into my driveway with another collection of memories floating around in my head to enjoy.