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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