A bug in my ear

Hello from Atlanta.

I am at the Porter Beer Bar, ranked by Bear Advocate as the #1 craft beer pub in Atlanta. I am sitting at the bar, eating the Chickpea Falafel and sipping the Creature Comforts Teopicália ( it's amazing), a high hop, slightly fruit flavored IPA brewed in Athens, GA. Often when I am in a different city, I search for a craft beer place and go there for dinner. I'm so glad I found this place. Small, intimate, many dozens of beer choices, knowledgable bartenders and 70's and 80's music on the juke box. It's something else. As the giggly valley-speaking 20-something girl next to me just said to her date, "This place is so chill."

I hated leaving the Amicalola Lodge this morning. I loved everything about the place. Nestled into the Appalachians, the views, waterfalls, staff, character and mood of the place was a perfect way to spend my last day in the mountains. I woke up early, hung out on the deck by myself and nursed a cup of coffee. The gray skies, night chill, light breeze, distant owl calls and complete solitude made for a calm, peaceful setting. I couldn't have been more content.

I hung out at the lodge until checkout time and then hit the road for the final 60 miles down to Atlanta. I had originally planned to return the bike at the end of the day but since I was going to Atlanta, I thought I would make a work-related visit to the College Football Hall of Fame. I am working on a new Athletics Hall of Fame for Northeastern and thought the college football exhibit might spark some good ideas. In fact it did.

I spent the first 20 miles out of Amicalola on Burnt Mountain Road. Other than a few turkeys, I had the road to myself, literally. I didn't see a single car until I reached the outskirts of Jasper (see video).

I pulled over a couple of times to get a final soak of the mountains. After a week of riding, I was sad to say goodbye.

From Jasper I took Rte. 75, a major freeway, down to Atlanta. It was pretty scary during the first stretch. Somehow an insect had gotten into my helmet. It crawled into my left ear and stayed there, buzzing away. I couldn't tell if it was a fly, a bee or some other kind of bug. I only know that it was loud and nasty and driving me crazy. Given that I am allergic to bee stings, I was trying not to freak out. This continued for more than five minutes. It felt more like an eternity. I finally got to an exit, pulled over on the side on the ramp and ripped my helmet off. It had been flat out torture.

I returned the bike at 1 p.m. having added 1,260 miles to the odometer. We went through the detailed inspection routine and then exchanged signatures. I unpacked the bike luggage, filled my duffel bag and then Ubered to the Downtown Hilton. I had reserved a room there on Priceline for $82.

Though I missed Eric's companionship on this trip, there was something special about being alone. I got to decide which routes to take, what speeds to ride and which places to stay. I could talk to whomever I wanted, whenever I wanted and be by myself if that is what I preferred. The mountains were majestic and the experience magical. It's a trip I will cherish forever.

Thanks for following along. I can't wait for next year's adventure, wherever that will take us.

George

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Location:Downtown Hilton, Atlanta, Georgia

Moonshine

Wednesday, 9:45 p.m.

Hello from the Amicalola Falls State Park and Lodge in Dawsonville, GA.
I reserved a room at this place at the recommendation of a park ranger earlier today at Vogel State Park 50 miles northeast of here. I'm so glad I did. With sweeping views from the veranda and a sunset






over the Appalachians about an hour away, I am floating with Angels at this place. A stunning way to spend my last full day of riding.

I spent much of today meandering through back roads and exploring a couple of state parks





and hiking trails. Along the way I was hoping to find a watering hole for a quick swim but no such luck.

I woke up this morning in Highlands, NC a bit groggy but otherwise contented. After a late dinner last night at the Ugly Dog Pub, I wandered over to the Lost Hiker, a local dive bar with loud music, dancing and young locals letting their hair down. It turns out it was Karaoke night. At 10 o'clock, people started lining up to sing. Being alone and a 1,000 miles from home, I thought about giving it a whirl. That is until others starting singing. Oh my! This wasn't a bunch of drunken hacks. These were confident, quality singers with zero stage fright. One was a backup opera star. Another was a Janice Joplin sound-alike. One guy had the crowd on its feet with a flawless rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody. I was blown away. After their performances there was no way I was getting up there.

I enjoyed chatting with folks around the bar and talking with the bartender, a Malaysian native who used to be the chef at Craigie on Main in Cambridge. Go figure.

Tuesday started at Pop and Nana's Kitchen a Robbinsville, I ate there on the patio having a large bowl of Karl's Oatmeal and a mug of coffee. Linda (I think she might have been Nana) and her two staff members rotated coming outside for smoke. I was there for two hours so I got to talk to each one three or four times.

One of the things Linda talked about was the local moonshine community. Because Graham County is dry, there is a thriving black market for white lightning. There are moonshine stills high in the mountains far from the prying eyes of the local authorities.

Have you ever heard of the TV show Moonshiners? I hadn't until yesterday. It's a realty show entering its fourth season on the Discovery Channel. The show stars "Dave", a mountain man who makes the "best brandy money can buy". Linda was telling me about him when low and behold, who pulls up in his old beat up pickup truck? Yup, it was Dave in the flesh. He was there to deliver some merchandise promoting his brandy, Sugar Shine. You can actually buy it at the distillery up in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, 80 miles north.





Dave stayed a few minutes to talk, provide directions to the distillery and shake my hand. Before he left, I bought one of his hats.

My plan had been to go to Gatlinburg anyway. I wanted to spend the day just north of their hiking six miles to LeConte lodge ( http://www.lecontelodge.com ), the highest guest lodge in the eastern U.S. with expansive views of the Smokies. Unfortunately, up one calling, I found out that it has been booked for months. There are no openings until next season.

As an alternative, I decided to get a room at the Lodge at Buckberry Creek, a charming mountain retreat that Eric told me about before he left. It was going to be my one big splurge of the trip. I made the gorgeous two-hour ride over the mountains to the lodge only to find out that it was full too.

No big deal. I drove into Gatlinburg to find another place to stay and to pick up a small bottle of Sugar Shine. A big mistake. Gatlinburg is a crowded, loud, touristy amusement trap. Its long row of tacky shops include Ripley's Believe it or Not, Guiness Book of World Records, Hard Rock Cafe, a Tex Mex restaurant and many souvenir shops. There was no street parking. The off-street lot was $8. Yuck. I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I'll get some Sugar Shine another time.

I went back south on the same road I came in on, Rte. 441. I stopped in Cherokee, the headquarters for the Eastern Band of Cherokee Nation. When I was cruising around town I stumbled on a bunch of guys taking archery practice.





Very cool. One of them showed me his compound bow. He had used it earlier in the day for a archery competition. What an impressive piece of technology. Including the counter-balance and scope, the thing costs $2,500. He wouldn't let me touch it but I watched as he took a graphite arrow from his quiver and nearly hit the bullseye on a target 50 yards away. Amazing.

From there I headed south for a couple hours until fatigue set in. Vi pulled into Highlands around 7, grabbed a room at 200 Main, a very comfortable inn in the center of town. After a shower I ventured up to the Ugly Dog for dinner.

I am very fortunate to be able to take these trips. For me, it's a wonderful way to experience this country's vast beauty and to meet some terrific people along the way. Feeling very blessed.

Off to Atlanta in the morning. Back to reality. Goodnight.








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Location:Amicalola Falls Lodge Dr, Dawsonville, GA

Lean, throttle, clutch, brake, repeat

Lean, throttle, clutch, brake, repeat. That's what I kept saying to myself. Lean, throttle, clutch, brake, repeat. 316 turns in 11 miles on Rte 28 and 129 in North Carolina and Tennessee, the stretch of road otherwise known as the Tail of the Dragon. It is said that the road earned its nickname from the curves that resemble a dragon's tail. I don't know about that. I just know that it requires intense focus, entering and exiting turns in a methodical and schooled manner. I'm not a skier but I imagine it's much like slaloming; twisting and turning downhill at great speed, though in the Dragon's case the turns are tighter, often exceeding 150 degrees. I kept thinking of my motorcycle class instructor's mantra; lean, throttle, clutch, brake, repeat. At least that's the way I remember.

Thankfully it was Monday and there were far fewer Bikers than I expected. I was able to stay within my comfort zone, not having to worry about daredevils jamming up my butt.

I can see why people come from all over the country to ride this road. It's scary and thrilling and tests you at every turn. Eric and I have faced similar switchbacks outside of Yosemite and in the Rockies, Utah and Idaho. What we never experienced was the vast number of them, all strung together in a few short miles.

I purposely waited to include the following link ( http://bit.ly/1PPWbGm ) until after I made it through the Dragon. Too many accidents for my family to look at. Now that I'm done, feel free to click away. There is a tree at Deal's Gap with destroyed motorcycle parts and notes of remembrance recognizing the many accidents and live's lost.











A sober reminder of the dangers of this place.

When I came off the Dragon I stopped at a motorcycle parts store looking to buy a new tank bag. Jerry, the guy behind the counter, asked if I was continuing up Rte. 72. I said yes. He said be careful out there and pointed to the town newspaper on the counter. Sunday, just behind the store, five guys came speeding down the straightaway at 140 mph. Two of them were racing in the lead and didn't see the S curve in time. They collided. One went into guardrail and died instantly. The other was taken to the hospital as is in unknown condition. Jerry heard the collision and went running out to the scene. Another of the riders was on the side of the road throwing up. He had just seen his friend with a severed head.

Sorry to share such gory detail but I wanted to explain why my mood was what it was during Monday afternoon's ride across the Cherohala Skyway. Though I still had fun, the indescribable beauty







affected me in a completely different way. I'm not a religious man but the vistas felt spiritual, if that is the right word. Maybe ethereal is more accurate. The dead rider's presence stayed with me over the mountains and throughout the valleys. For four hours I was sad, yet reflective and peaceful. I couldn't shake it. All bikers have tragedy in the back of their minds. When someone dies on a bike, it hits home. My heart goes out to his family, friends and fellow riders.

Around 2 p.m. I pulled into Tellico Falls to take a break, fill up and on gas and check the oil. Still under a pall and wanting some human interaction, I saw an opportunity to engage with a person at the adjacent pump. Cautiously, as she filled her Chevy pickup truck, I asked the overweight ~ 40 year old white woman about the large Confederate flag on her antenna. As disarmingly as I could, I said "With all that's been in the news lately, do you feel differently about flying that flag?" She was clearly uncomfortable with the question but recognized that I had asked it purely and wasn't trying to challenge her. Her face turned all shades of red before she responded. She said that she felt "colored people" had been looking at her recently with hatred in their eyes. She said that this has made her "uneasy." "In my heart I love all of God's children. This has nothing to do with racism. It's about paying tribute to those that fought under the flag. It's also about free speech." Her answer felt regurgitated and unconvincing. I asked whether the fact that it's hurtful to other people impacts her at all. She said "A little but not enough to to outweigh my reasons." I told her that I felt differently and ask her to think about it further. She said that she would but that her husband would be angry at the mention of it. She added that she also have the Conferderate flag hanging from her house. So do her neighbors. I thanked her for her willingness to talk about it. She thanked me too and we headed on our separate ways. Ouch!

I had a nice dinner last night with a delicious peach cobbler for dessert that the owner brought me for my birthday.







It was another example of heartfelt southern hospitality. Down here the people are friendly and full of good will, at least towards whites. For me, it's difficult to accept their kindness in the face of the obvious and ever-present racism.

I was back at the Two Wheels by 9 p.m. After parking my bike, I sat with the 40-something biker-engineer from Asheville for awhile. He gave me a Coors Light (while he drank a rare craft beer) and showed me the photos of his recent trip across the Italian Dolomites and into northern Croatia. A nice way to end a memorable birthday. The only thing missing was my family. I wanted to be with them.

The temperatures nosedived overnight, much like yesterday's stock market. I woke up this morning to 53 degrees and dense fog. I joined a group of bikers gathered at the table outside the motel office. They were all moaning about the chill. I couldn't relate. I'm in heaven. The colder the better. The thought of riding today in New England temperatures without humidity is a dream come true.

Have a great Tuesday. I know I will, wherever the winds take me.



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Here to meet the Dragon

Happy Monday from Robbinsville, NC. I slept until 7:30 today. It's been years since I slept that late. I needed it. The heat, the disrupted sleep and hours of riding has taken its toll.

I am at the Two Wheel Inn, a side of the road motel in Robbinsville, NC run by Linda and Barry, a hard working couple that relocated from Florida 13 years ago. The pillows are hard, the air conditioner is noisy and the towels are small and nonabsorbent. I love this place anyway. The proprietors are kind and thoughtful and the motel caters only to bikers. Lots of salt of the earth travelers who appreciate the outdoors, enjoy meeting other people and spend their vacations exploring this big land of ours. One cool feature of this place is that everyone gets their own motorcycle garage.


I've never seen that before. It's a nice touch for those traveling with fancy expensive bikes.

It was a 175 mile stressful ride on the curvy mountain country roads from Greenville yesterday afternoon. Intermittent rains made the roads slick and the tight turns forced slower speed. That said, I'm glad I did it rather than waiting until today. The views were to die for (not literally).


Glorious beauty everywhere I looked.

I pulled into Two Wheels in Robbinsville just after dark. After chatting with Barry and Linda, I dropped the bags in my room and scooted to town to find a restaurant. There weren't many non-fast food options open. I ended up at the El Pacifico Restaurante Mexico on Bypass Blvd. once inside, I took off my heavy bike gear, slumped back into my booth and asked for tall ice cold beer. To my utter dismay she responded "Sir, Graham County is bone dry. You have to go 30 miles down to Murphy to get alcohol." Ouch! I ordered the bottomless lemonade instead and paired it with a basket of tortilla chips with salsa and the enchiladas special. Way too much food but of course I ate every bite.

The reason I didn't leave Greenville until 4 p.m. was because I was at our women's soccer game. What an incredible performance. With a couple of days to recover from their Thursday overnight bus trip, slightly lower temperatures, a good training session on Saturday and a hunger coming off a bad performance Friday night, they came out on fire. It was one of the most dominant performances since I've been associated with this team. Northeastern probably had possession 65-70 percent of the time, outshot Furman 24-6 and won the game 3-1. Furmans only goal was on a penalty kick from a phantom foul in the box.

The game was so much fun. I loved sitting on the bench with the team, feeling the intensity and focus and watching them enjoy this beautiful game.


I'm honored to have had a front row seat. I'm looking forward to flying back Friday in time to watch them play against St. Joseph's at home.



http://youtu.be/jT2e4XG9KaI
If you are in the area, stop by. The game is at 6 p.m. At Parsons Field in Brookline.

I'm really excited about today's riding. After munching on the two boxes of Kellogg's low fat granola that I took from yesterday's Hampton Inn continental buffet breakfast, I'm heading over to the Tail of the Dragon, the 11 mile, 300+ turn stretch (Google it) known to motorcyclists as one of the most challenging but exhilarating rides in the country. People come from all over to ride the Dragon. The two guys in the room next to mine came up from Houston to "slay the dragon", as they put it. Later today they are turning west and heading to California to tackle a similar challenge just north of L.A. A couple of middle-aged guys trying to exhaust their bucket list before it's too late. I know the feeling.

When I got back from the Mexican restaurant, I chatted for 15 minutes with them and a father & son team from Asheville who had trailered their bikes to do some riding up in the mountains. They generously offered me a beer but by then I was too full, too tired and in bad need of a shower. I declined but suggested we have a nightcap together tonight instead. I hope it works out.

I'm off to meet the dragon. Wish me luck.






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Location:Two Wheels Inn, Robbinsville, North Carolina

Dang, it was raining

Yesterday I rode another 275 mile. My primary objective was to go to Asheville to visit the Biltmore Estate. I had been reading about it for years. It's an 8,000 acre private estate build by George Vanderbilt in 1889. The 250 room manor is nestled into the Blue Ridge Mountains. The estate includes huge parks and gardens. The half mile drive into the ticket/info building is a half mile long and knocks your socks off.

I arrived at the Biltmore around 3:30 knowing that I had to leave by 5:00 to join the team at 7:00 for dinner. When they told me the only tickets they had left were $60 day passes, I turned around and left. A tough lesson. I had driven 180 miles and stayed for only ten minutes. I should have called ahead.

It wasn't a total loss. There was some nice back road riding along the way. Many of the roads that Eric and I have ridden around the country are indistinguishable from one another. They are sprinkled with occasional gas stations, small car lots, independent insurance agents, farm equipment dealers churches, etc. Yesterday's roads were no different, except for the intermittent stretches of rolling farm land.

Sometimes I play a mental game on these roads. I pretend that I don't know where I am and then assess the local landscape and conditions to determine the locale. Other than the sporadic town signs, there are usually few clues. The terrain, the temperature and the vegetation color help to narrow it down. Sometimes I go can go 30 minutes before spotting an identifying marker, as it was yesterday when I pulled in to watch the youth football practice at a school for the deaf and blind. A couple of the coaches were wearing Campobello, SC team shirts, confirming Campobello as the location.

Tomorrow's riding will be anything but routine. I will be heading to the Tail of the Dragon, an 11 mile stretch near the North Carolina - Tennessee border. It's listed by some websites as "America's #1 Motorcycle Rd." The sharper Dragon curves have nicknames for them. A couple of my favorites are Beginner's End, and Brake or Bust Bend. I'll try to take some photos and video.

This afternoon's riding is likely to be unnerving. Severe thunderstorms are forecasted for late-afternoon, just when I will be leaving Furman for my 160 mile trek through Smoky Mountain National Park to Robbinsville. I was already concerned about having to ride the last hour in the park at night. I now think it will be longer than that and on wet roads to boot.

I dealt with a short brush of heavy rain yesterday. I was riding on rte. 176 north of Spartanburg when a flash storm hit. The first place I could stop was four miles down the road at a strip mall in Inman, SC. I went into the Subway and asked the high school kid behind the counter whether the rain was supposed to continue for long. "I don't know" he said. "I just looked out the window and dang, it was raining." Dang. I think Gomer Pyle was the last person I heard utter that word.

I nursed a six-inch veggie sub on 9-grain wheat and a Gatorade until the rain subsided 20 minutes later. My suit and the roads dried out in a matter of minutes.

Last night, after a team dinner (take out Chicken Marcella and breadsticks from Olive Garden), we settled in for a film session. The coaches highlighted many "learning opportunities" from Friday's game, especially for the goalies and defensive backs. These coaches really know what they are talking about. They provided detailed evaluations of the technical and tactical aspects of Friday's individual and collective defensive performances. I'm thinking today's effort will be much improved.

I ended the night at the bar of the Japanese Steak House across the street where I had a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale and watched Little League baseball on ESPN.

Time to pack. Happy Sunday everyone.


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Location:Park Woodruff Dr,Greenville,United States

Going Solo

Going solo. I'll explain a little later.
It's great to be on the road again. I spent seven hours (nearly 300 miles) yesterday riding through mostly farm land and forest between Marietta and Columbia. Empty roads, rolling landscape, a comfortable bike and visions of a fun week ahead. Stress free riding at its best.
The only challenge so far has been the intense heat; nearly 100 degrees and 80 percent humidity. Within five minutes of leaving EagleRider yesterday I was soaked in sweat. The protective gear is great but it's unforgiving in the extreme heat. I stopped many times yesterday to chug water or Gatorade. Margot would have been proud.
At one of those stops I went into a rural gas station to use the bathroom. There was an elderly black woman behind the counter. When I entered, she lowered her People magazine to her lap, peered over her glasses and asked in a southern drawl, "How can I help you Sweetpea?" I had a little chuckle and then asked how far it was to Columbia. The woman said, "Well, that depends" and then went silent. I waited a bit and then asked "What does it depends on?" Just like Bubba in Forest Gump talking about the many ways he likes shrimp, she said slowly, prolonging her vowels, "Well, it depends on whether you're going to Columbia, South Carolina or Columbia, North Carolina or Columbia, Tennessee or maybe Columbia someplace else." With a twinkle in her eye she added, "Honey, my time is precious. You've got to be more specific. You could be going to Medellin, Columbia as far as I know." I love this woman.
I said I was going to Columbia, South Carolina. She replied; "Do you want to go the fastest way, the prettiest way or the way my late husband used to go, God bless his soul." I said "no offense to your late husband, I'm sure he was a wonderful man, but I want to go the prettiest way." "Good choice Sweetpea" she said. "Go straight out that road. After two hours you will exit the forest and begin to see signs for Columbia". She then picked up the magazine and began reading again, as if to say that the conversation was over. Without looking up she added, " You better giddy up. The sun is going down quick, there no lights in that forest and it gets mighty dark in there. That's when the livestock starts wandering into the road. You don't want to deal with that, specially on a motorcycle Sweetpea." Good advice if there ever was any.
I could have chatted with her all day.
Yesterday was a long day overall? Eric spent the night before at my place. We woke up at 5 a.m. and took an Uber to Logan. After checking the bags curbside, we entered the Delta terminal and Eric joined the line of hundreds of people waiting to go through security. Thankfully I had registered for TSA Pre-check last year and was able to whisk right through. It was a tough way for Eric to start the day. I was finishing my newspaper and large coffee when he arrived at the gate an hour later, covered in sweat and out of breath.
The flight itself was easy. In fact, we arrived in Atlanta ten minutes early. Eric slept the entire way. I did some email and worked on an upcoming work presentation.
Form Atlanta we took an Uber 35 miles to Marrieta. The driver, a recent retiree, didn't know how to get there and held his phone in his hand the entire trip, constantly glancing at it for turn-by-turn directions. Along the way he took two wrong turns, adding six miles to the ride. He was apologetic and offered to refund us for his mistakes. We declined. We were more concerned about his continually taking his eyes off the road than about the added time and expense.
We left EagleRider in Marrieta at a little after 1 p.m., later than we had planned. Eric had forgotten that he had placed his bike's registration in his Camelbak. We spent 30 minutes unpacking his and my bags looking for the damn thing. He finally found it in the Camelbak but neglected to tell me so I continued to search through every pocket and folder. I even went back in and searched the motorcycle store, the storage room and the bathroom before Eric offhandedly mentioned while he was repacking his luggage that he had found it.
Once we got going, it took us awhile to get out of the city. I wanted to take the country roads (Eric didn't) but the GPS kept leading us to the freeway. After multiple attempts, I gave in and followed Eric onto the major highway east.
We stopped an hour later for lunch, a Caribbean deli where we both had chicken and beans covered with curried chicken. I liked it? Eric didn't. I cleaned my plate. He barely touched his. And so it goes.
After lunch, Eric was anxious to get to our destination. I wanted to take the scenic route. He opted to continue on the highway. I set off for the back roads adding 100 miles and nearly three hours to my trip.
I was glad I did. The route through Stone Mountain, Athens, Lake Richard Russell and Sumter National Forest was serene and peaceful and just what I had been longing for. I arrived at the hotel at 8:30, fully contented. Almost.
The first two days of this adventure are actually work days for me. Our women's soccer team is here to play the University of South Carolina, one of the top teams in the country. On Sunday they play at Furman University up in Greenville, SC. I am accompanying the team, meeting with my peers from the two universities and otherwise getting to know our incoming freshman.
Yesterday, as I pulled into Athens for a water break, I got a call from our head coach saying that their flight to Dulles was going to leave Boston four hours late and that the connecting flight to Columbia had been cancelled. Yikes. After many phone calls and help from folks back in Boston, the team ended up taking an eight hour bus ride from D.C. to Columbia. I went down to the lobby early this morning to greet them. While I waited, I chatted with Barbara, the front desk clerk, and had a couple cups of coffee. Barbara loves the night shift. She's been doing it for 30 years. She enjoys the peace and the ability to think quietly about life, God, and her family and friends. A very contented woman for sure.
The team arrived at 5 a.m. I distributed their room keys and they all went up to bed. I then rode the stationary bike for an hour and helped myself to the big breakfast. At about 8:30, I went up to the room to rustle Eric. Unfortunately, he was suffering from heat exhaustion. He was nauseous and weak and he couldn't get out of bed. He called his nurse practitioner back home who instructed him to keep hydrating, which he did. By mid-afternoon he was feeling better.
As for riding solo, late this afternoon Eric received word of a work crisis. He said he had to return to Boston at the crack of dawn tomorrow. It's too bad. This trip will not be the same but I will stay the course without him.
We just got back from the soccer game.






Though we hung tough with a 1-1 tie at halftime, S. Carolina broke it open in the second half for a 4-1 victory.
I'm unsure of tomorrow's plans. Whatever happens, I'm sure it will be eventful and exciting. Going solo will be a challenge. Nonetheless, I can't wait.



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