Fall Ride 2013 - Day Five - Wednesday, 10/23/2013

We spent the night preparing our bikes and our gear for travel as we were slated to leave Georgia for the loftier elevations and environs of the North Carolina mountains. Our itinerary called for us to move up to the Sylva region to spend the remainder of the week playing on more familiar roads and curves.

 

Rolling out at 9 a.m., we were greeted by a brisk 47 degree morning and a certain Battlestar that would not start without being pushed.

 

Yep, Eddie's bike still wasn't fixed, and that meant he had to get it back to the shop for more work before he could consider moving farther north and further away from home.

 

Back in Blairsville, we left Eddie at Union Powersports while Mr. Sarcasm and I headed over to the Blairsville Airport where a few WWII warbirds had flown in for a visit.

 

Arriving at the airport we made our way over to a secluded section of tarmac where three gorgeous warbirds -- a P-51C, B-17, and a B-25 -- were parked and open for tours. Those of you who know me are fully aware that I wasn't about to pass up such an opportunity to get close to -- and even crawl through -- aircraft of this vintage. I gladly paid the price of admission, crossed over the yellow tape border, and found myself face-to-face with 1943.

I took full advantage of the opportunity to shoot a bunch of photos and to take a walk through the B-17. They were offering rides in the P-51, but such an undertaking was out of range for my budget of both time and money. That didn't dampen my enjoyment of the aircraft one bit and I walked off that windblown tarmac with a storage card full of images...and a smile on my face.

 

Leaving the airport we made our way back over to Union Powersports only to find Eddie in the service bay with his trike disassembled into a dozen pieces. Despite all the work done so far, it now appeared that the bike needed just one more replacement part -- a solenoid -- before she could be restored to proper running trim. That repair was going to take a couple of hours at least, and would have taken longer except for the shop's gracious decision to strip the needed part from a brand new Gold Wing they had on their showroom floor.

After some discussion it was decided that Mr. Sarcasm and I would leave Eddie in Blairsville and make our way on up to Sylva, NC, with a stop along the way in Franklin, NC, for me to take in a make-up Rotary meeting.

 

At 10:50 a.m., Mr. Sarcasm and I were rolling toward North Carolina. We had just over an hour to cross the mountains to Franklin to make the Rotary meeting that would start at noon. It was going to be close, but I was confident that we could make it. And we did. With two minutes to spare.

 

Walking into a Rotary meeting as a stranger is always something that draws attention. Rotarians expect strangers to show up for make-ups, but that doesn't change the fact that strangers in the midst of a well-established group is something that draws attention. Now, dress those two strangers in bright, florescent yellow motorcycling jackets, armored riding pants, protective boots, and carrying flashy helmets in one hand and laden tank bags in the other and you've got a recipe for really drawing peoples' attention. And, yes, that's exactly what Mr. Sarcasm and I did.

After enjoying a tasty lunch of beef stew and an interesting Rotary meeting, Mr. Sarcasm and I were back on the road just after one o'clock in the afternoon. A quick phone call to Eddie had confirmed that his bike repairs were almost finished and that he would soon be on his way toward Sylva.

 

At 1:40 p.m., Mr. Sarcasm and I made it to the cabin in Sylva where we would be staying for the remainder of the week. We quickly unloaded the bikes, tossed our things into our respective sleeping quarters, and then jumped back on the bikes and headed out for more riding. How quick, you ask? We were rolling again at 2:15 p.m., so less than 35 minutes to unload, stage the cabin, and climb back in the saddle. The time was an interesting coincidence, too, as we had agreed to make a beeline for NC 215 and some truly twisty goodness to finish out our day.

 

And NC 215 is just what we did.

 

Making our way over to Waynesville, we picked up 215 off of NC 276 and made the extremely enjoyable run up Cold Mountain to the Blue Ridge Parkway. The curves on that side of the mountain come at a fast and furious pace, making this piece of roadway a truly dynamic dance floor for some motorcycle ballet.

 

Of course, we couldn't resist running downhill on the southern side of NC 215 to enjoy the sweepers on that side of the mountain. And, if you run downhill, you have to come back up, right? Yes, you do. And we did.

 

Back at the top of the mountain, just below the Blue Ridge Parkway we pulled off to enjoy one particularly stunning vista of mountains laid out to our east. The air was so cold and the wind so strong that I was beginning to shiver in spite of my thick jacket and multiple layers of warm clothing. So cold, in fact, that I even had to break out a couple more hand-warmer packets and add them to my gloves for the return ride to Sylva.

We took the scenic route back toward the cabin by traveling the Blue Ridge Parkway over to the Smoky Mountains Expressway just outside Waynesville. Hitting the expressway we turned for Sylva and lit the afterburners to keep pace with the late afternoon traffic.

 

In short order we were back up the mountain and pulling into the cabin's parking area. There we were greeted by the comforting sight of Battlestar Galactica resting in the most prime parking locations (it's a big bike) possible. Space that only hours before had held two Triumph Trophy SEs was now occupied by the Battlestar. There is some sarcasm here, just in case you're missing it.

 

Entering the cabin we found Eddie chilling out in one of the recliners and we quickly got briefed up on the details of his repairs, his ride over to Sylva, and his lunch/dinner stop along the way.

 

Wait a second! What do you mean a lunch/dinner stop? That's when Mr. Sarcasm and I learned that while we were out upholding the honor of motorcyclists everywhere by challenging the twists and turns of NC 215 and the Blue Ridge Parkway, Eddie was down at the Huddle House in Dillsboro, NC, enjoying a meal of two eggs, country ham, red eye gravy, grits, rye toast, and a side order of bacon. Now, Dear Reader, this was alarming news as I pretty well knew what it foretold when I asked the important, and very reasonable, question: "But what are we supposed to do for dinner?"

 

The short answer to that question turned out to be that it was our problem. Eddie had eaten and that was all that mattered...to him! Mr. Sarcasm and I were on our own. Fend for ourselves was the order of the evening. And that would have been fine save for the simple fact that there was not one single morsel of food to be found in the cabinets, the pantry, or the refrigerator of that cabin.

 

It had been a long hard day of riding and both Mr. Sarcasm and I were hungry. Luckily for Mr. Sarcasm I wasn't hungry enough to follow-through on my initial cannibalistic impulses, but I was definitely hungry. And then it happened. The bright light of salvation shone down upon us in the form of a bag of pork rinds and a jar of peanut butter that Eddie had brought with him from our stay in Blairsville. Yes, Dear Reader, dinner that night was pork rinds and peanut butter. Not such a bad combination as one might think...especially when you're hungry...and there are no other options.

 

The mileage total for the day was an even 200, and it had been miles ridden through gorgeous scenery and over twisty roads. This is what our trips are all about and we had had a full measure of the fun that we had come seeking. Best of all, Eddie and Battlestar Galactica were back in full commission and ready to ride come sunrise.

 

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