Peakaboo

Yeah, I know I spelled it wrong. There's a reason. And a story behind today's ride.

More to follow...

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For a quick and dirty pictoral tour, you can go here. Full story is below...

I've been planning a leaf peeping tour of my own for a while, but weekends haven't been working out, and the weather looked like there was one more bit of warmth, so I opted to take Tuesday off and just go ride. The temps were supposed to be mid 70's, but in the early morning, it was barely 50 at my house, and my electric vest didn't work the last time I tried it.

I figured I'd check the easy stuff first, and pulled out the in-line fuse the vest has on the lead to the battery, and after looking at that, I don't know how it ever worked! Advanced Auto Parts hooked me up, I plugged in the fuse, and voila, the controller lit back up, once again. That all happened before 9 a.m.

By 9:03, I was rolling down the driveway to go fill my tires, which were both down about 6-8 pounds. Money from the ATM and I was rolling at 9:15 a.m.

The temperature did some weird fluctuating for the next few minutes, and got up to 60 by the time I was out of Travelers Rest, but within 10 minutes, it was down to 48 again, going across country roads. The 60 had me starting to sweat in my layers, and the 48 had me singing happy songs about my electric vest.

Even though I was being sneaky and riding on a Tuesday, I saw quite a few other bikes, the first of which was heading down 178 from Rosman, passing me while I was going north to Rosman. The waves I gave to every biker had an extra note of camaraderie...we weren't just weekend riders. We took vacation time to go ride in the week, heh heh.

Once out of Rosman and on to 64W, I was behind a couple of pickups for a few miles, but it wasn't very long before my turnoff to the magical 281, my very own hooligan road. The gravel was toned down in the first part, since the last time I'd ridden it in July, which was a relief. I finally started getting some pictures here. The color hadn't been spectacular to this point. It was either still pretty green, or naked branches...you pick.

I almost stopped at Wolf Creek Lake, but there were a lot of utility trucks there, so I just pulled off by the side and grabbed some shots. The sun overpowered some of the shadows, but it was still a nice view.

The rest of 281 is just too much fun to take pictures, and once that ended at 107, I found another road which was pretty intense, called Pine Creek Road, which changes to Walnut Creek Road before it drops off into Hwy 64/28. I think I would have rather come the other direction on that one, since all of the hairy hairpins and switchbacks would have been uphill. As it was, I felt like I was doing a handstand on the bars, looking down the road before me.

You weren't on that road unless you had some reason to be on that road (in my case, specific curiosity). You don't just 'stumble across' that one. I'll have to look it up again one of these days and traverse it west to east. Maybe take a picture next time, too.

At any rate, I was only five or six miles outside of Franklin at this point, where I picked up 28N out of town. This is the route to go up to the Dragon, and a road I've taken a few times. On the route, I've seen this side road a few times that I've wondered about, called Tellico Road. Part of my goal from today's riding was to take that road less travelled, and loop around to Wayah Road, which internet investigation promised good riding.

The scenery along Tellico Road was very nice. Curvy, peaceful, secluded...and then.

Then, I passed a road sign that said, "Pavement Ends," which it promptly did. It wasn't super bad, loose, rutted gravel, and I wasn't about to be turned away from my investigation, so I kept going. Shortly after, I came up a lane with a beautiful stone fence, very reminiscent of Kentucky.

The road turned, however, and nothing looked like Kentucky. It started looking more like I'd see a Gingerbread House with an old crone outside. The occasional sprinkling of 4x4 pickup trucks with hunting dog crates in the bed helped offset that impression, though. It weren't too near any civilization, though, I'll tell you that. (Peak leaf season, boo - scary forest...get it? Oh, nevermind.)

I had to pull over one time for an oncoming Chevy Tahoe to pass me, since the road was not a two lane avenue by any stretch of the imagination. The curves were often blind, and I approached most of them with healthy caution. After a certain point, I didn't see any more hunters (or utility workers with bright orange hats, as I originally though them to be), but the road kept going. So did I.

Occasionally, I pulled off for a few "you won't believe this!" pictures to show where in the world I was. The dirt road ran along much of what was a cut for power lines, so they got included in the shots.

The prettiest pictures of the day were from an overshadowed part of the road where I just had to stop and snap a couple. It's easy to get too wrapped up in the riding and skip the pics, so I tried to make conscious efforts to document this rather, erm, unusual part of my trip. (Remember, you can click on any picture to enlarge it.)

Again, see the ribbon of road below? I don't get turned back easily, even with switchbacks full of gravel and dirt :)

At the summit of the gap (Tellico Gap), there was a sign indicating that the Appalachian Trail crosses there. After reading some today, it turns out there is an old fire tower that was rebuilt for hikers to go up and enjoy the view, which is about 1.5 miles' worth of a hike from the top of the gap. I think I may need to go back up there and check it out one day with a good camera. The road won't be quite some daunting, since I at least know what to expect.

From the AT intersection, my gravel and dirt road started to angle down. I mainly used engine braking in first gear to keep my speeds reasonable, and the descent was nowhere near as long or sustained as the ascent on the other side of the mountain. Seemed like no time at all before I started seeing signs of civilization, and boom, there was asphalt on the road ahead of me! Yeah baby!

I knew I'd stayed on Tellico Road over the mountain, but I wasn't sure I was supposed to go that route, since the way I planned to go was going to change names at least once (pretty common in these parts). Even though I thought it might be off route, I was willing to figure it out, once I got somewhere recognizable.

Happy times, though, because the next road sign showed that I was now on Otter Creek Road, which was my intended route to Wayah Road. My five mile dirt road trip over the mountain was NOT in vain!

Wayah Road was next, and the many reviews online about this stretch hit it pretty nicely. Good sweepers, beautiful views, some technical sections with hairpins, but not overtaxing. And no one in front of me for the entire 20+ miles. The road goes along the edge of Lake Nantahala, which was glass smooth, except for one boat ripple. There was a restaurant I meant to stop at, but missed, so I kept riding.

There was another section of the AT that crossed Wayah Road, and was 13 miles from Franklin. The next 13 miles were a series of skinny switchbacks. Skinny, because leaves had pooled at the edge of the lane, leaving the workable asphalt to less than the standard 8 feet. Nothing too hairy, though.

At the bottom of the road, it was a short hop to the right to get onto Highway 64, which had some of the prettiest scenery of the day. I rode on that until I hit an uphill stretch and could see two tractor trailers ahead of me that were pulling really slowly up the grade. Right then, there was a scenic overlook pulloff, and since I hadn't gotten off the bike in 4.5 hours at that point, I figured it would be a good time for a break.

It had warmed up to around 70 by now, so my quilted liner in my jacket and pants were a bit overkill, as was my form fitting vest (even with the power off). It was a welcome respite to stand and delayer. There were two other bikes at the overlook, and one of the riders came over to ask where I was heading from and going, and offered to take a picture of me with the bike (since all I could do was take a pic of the bike by his lonesome). I let him take the picture, figuring I had to look pretty rough, since I'd just taken my helmet off for the first time in over four hours. At least it was proof I was there, right?

Fifteen minutes later, I was back on 64, heading over the mountain and on down to Hiwassee, GA for a lunch break. It was also my fuel stop for the day, and I'd put 185 miles on the bike since I put my kickstand up in the morning. It was an hour to ride in to Hiwassee, and by then, I was ready for a real, sit-down break. Nothing especially noble for lunch, but my Zaxby's was good. I wrote a few things in my journal, and just savored sitting there, leaning back with my legs stretched.

About 30 minutes later, and I was back on the road, with 40 miles to go to Clayton, GA on Highway 76, which is one of the nicest motorcycle highways I've been on. It's got decent passing zones, so the 'pokes can move over, and gorgeous views as you go.

Once in Clayton, I did a quick hook over by the BP station on 441 to get onto Warwoman Road which runs over to Highway 28. A fellow rider from my biker website told me about this road a couple of years back, and I run it every once in a while.

This day, however, the last few miles of it were polluted by a '95 Chevy Blazer that saw no need to be courteous and pull over. A couple of times I just stopped in the middle of the road to let him get ahead before I'd ride through the next few curves and catch back up. There wasn't anywhere I could pass with any idea of prudence, so I was stuck. When we got to 28, however, at least he let me pass him to get onto the road first.

Highway 28 is another beaut. This one keeps you on your toes, though, and the trees were spectacular. I wish I had a good helmet cam, so I could just ride and not be clicking pictures to share all the time :) Once down to Walhalla, I turned east to head back to Greenville.

By now, it was getting near quitting time for most office drones, so traffic started picking up. The last 30 or so miles were quite mundane, and I pulled into my driveway about five minutes later than any normal workday, so the Riley booger dog didn't have any longer to wait than normal.

Once I got home, he and I went for a nearly two mile walk, and it felt so good to be moving my legs. Even with the seat modified by Spencer on that bike, I wouldn't have wanted to ride much more. I figured my day at work on Wednesday would be a little painful, but there has been a surprising lack of soreness, which is good. My co-workers get annoyed when I groan.

The One Picture I Did Get...

Saturday, October 1, I met up with Martin at the gas station in Cleveland, SC, a few miles before the 276 turnoff for Caesar's Head. He's a co-worker who's also a former MSF Rider Coach, and is currently loving his 2011 Versys. There was a cold front that started through the night before, so when we met at 9:30, it was only 52 degrees outside. I'd brought about every layer I could think of, and proceeded to put on the last ones before we headed out.

The ride route was my idea, but the first leg of it is one Martin knows very well, so I asked him to lead, figuring I'd have a good bunny to chase, and I wouldn't be slowing him up on roads he was more familiar with. We headed up the 2,000 foot climb to the summit of Caesar's Head, and I'm thankful that whoever designed the road put passing zones in the uphill portion. The Camry and the Jeep were at least smart enough to stay in the slow lane when we went past them.

Past the summit, is a curvy ridgeline that gradually descends toward Brevard, but before that, we turned left onto East Fork, which is a delightfully curvy road that I just discovered this summer. Hairpins, blind curves, hills, sweepers...they're all there. On one particular decreasing radius downhill curve, I was following at probably close to Martin's pace when suddenly the road seemed a lot tighter than I expected. I usually have one of those ultra split second voiceovers in my head of, "and that was when she made her mistake..." fighting the urge to target fixate on the opposing lane's ditch.

One bit of advice Mike had passed on at my trip to the OBX was to, "trust your tires. They're better than you are." In that hairy split second, it came back, I shifted over a little bit and pushed that inside grip even more to carve into the curve. Inside my helmet, I said out loud, "Push! The tires are better than you are!" And then, "Woo hoo!" once I'd negotiated it through.

At our next designated stop in Rosman, NC, we got off to stretch, and I had a bathroom break while Martin put on another layer. Now it was my turn to lead, and I outlined our next three roads, saying our next stop would be a lookout on the Blue Ridge Parkway. The cold air (it was now sitting at 48 degrees) had chased every bit of haze out of the atmosphere, and it was a crystal clear day.

Back on the road, we routed around a fall festival of sorts in Rosman, and then a quick hop on Highway 64 to head north on 215. That's a nice stretch of road, with lots of 25 mph advisories on curves, and some really grippy pavement. We swooped through a few miles of curves up to Balsam Grove, and then turned left at the fire department, going up Tanasee Gap Road.

I'd tried this road out in July, and found it interesting, but full of potholes. This time, the majority of the potholes had been patched, so it didn't seem nearly so sketchy. Of course, I didn't head up the gravel road I found last time, either, so that probably enhanced the non-sketch factor. It's definitely a country road, but has some nice views closer to the top of the mountain. At the stop sign where it ends, hang a left, and in less than a mile we were at the beginning of the prime riding on 281.

This is a road I know fairly well, and if I'm ever a hooligan, it's on the next stretch. The pitch, camber, angle and curves are all perfect to just lay the bike side to side as you sail through the unending s-curves. It's exhilarating, and even Martin commented at lunch about how pristine that section of road was.

After a few miles of this Turnish Delight, we turned right onto Explorer Road, following the path I'd done on my gravel off roading trip. Again, this time the road didn't seem as edgy, although there was one pretty sharp turn that almost caught me napping. Parts of it are just ok, but other parts are beautiful, and it's a stretch of 10 miles, so it lasts a good bit.

Toward the end, the quality of the road again deteriorates, getting a few potholes and uneven surfaces. The stop sign at its terminus ends back on Highway 215, where we turned left to continue heading back north to the Blue Ridge Parkway. The surface of 215 was so refreshingly solid and well groomed after that bit of Explorer Road, it's a breath of fresh air.

Carve a few more curves, and we make the turn to enter the BRP. The air is clean and cold. There is a wind blowing that I didn't feel so much on the bike, but Martin said it was blowing him around some. We only had one tunnel to go through, but when I looked at the thermometer once we were back in the sunshine, it showed 37 degrees. I was loving my heated grips and electric vest (and long underwear, quilted liners, neck guard, winter gloves, long socks....)

There was one overlook I especially wanted to stop at, and we passed a half dozen before we got to it. Once there, Martin again put on another layer, while I got the beauty shot of the bike. I'd forgotten that my memory card for the camera was laying on a shelf at home where I'd put it after loading some pictures onto my computer, so I only got one shot.

From there, we headed back onto the BRP and then shortly turned off at 276, heading south to Brevard, where Martin and I had lunch at a Zaxby's. As we were walking in to the restaurant, it felt positively balmy out there, with it being 53 degrees. At lunch, Martin mentioned that curve where he went in kind of hot, asking if I remembered the one...? Yeah. I remembered it :)

After lunch, Martin headed back down 276 the way we'd come up, over Caesar's Head, but I got out onto I-26 and headed toward Hendersonville, where I stopped by a roadside stand to buy some NC apples. I had a backpack with me, and was able to get all of a half bushel of apples into it and strapped onto my back before heading home. Twenty. Five. Pounds. of apples. Much of it will go into applesauce for my dog's medicine. But not all. (They're no SweeTangoes, though, I'll tell you that much...)

And here it is...the one picture I did get.