Atlanta Motorcycle Schools

Adventure Tour—October 15, 2006

Apparently not. Our plan was to link as many gravel roads together as possible (connecting by means of narrow twisty paved roads where necessary) to where we had reservations in the Nantahala Gorge between Bryson City and Robbinsville, NC.

Again, just like last year.

Breaktime over, we’re off on a tangent. If you’re going to get anywhere, you can’t spend the day running rabbits down side trails, but we are close to one of the most beautiful rivers in the world, accessible by, yup, a nice gravel spur. The dead-end road to Tate City (population 32, plus or minus) follows the Tallulah River toward its origins in the wilderness that separates Georgia from North Carolina. A pristine trout habitat, the river is so clear that you can see to the bottom of its deepest pool. We are drawn to it like the Millennium

Immediately, however, we’re tracking another trout stream on another Forest Service road -- a stream so private and heavily patrolled you’re almost forbidden to look. Harumph; so much for rich folk and gated property! We’re having so much fun playing leapfrog from one gravel road to the next, we wouldn’t stop to fish if they begged us. Finally, after following yet another riverside bit of dirt, we end up in the Nantahala Gorge, where it’s a crooked shot to the yurts.

Ever stay in a yurt? Originated by nomadic folk in the vast plains of Mongolia, this primitive but ingenious tent is a simple round affair with a self-supporting roof. Our particular yurts are far from primitive, each having hardwood flooring, a queen bed, refrigerator, ceiling fan……..and a path to the nearby central bathhouse (also quite comfortable). We return from a mile sprint to dinner to enjoy a campfire, chuckling that we conveniently run out of firewood and energy simultaneously, and retire to our accommodations.

Frost on the saddle greets us the next morning, and we’re thankful to gulp down Waffle House coffee after a chilly 25-mile run to breakfast. We’re in Anderson, just a stone’s throw from a well-maintained gravel segment of the infamous Trail of Tears. Originally built by the Army to get rid of Native Americans (one of our less-proud historic moments), today it shamefully facilitates the disposal of unused appliances and worn out couches as it winds its way across Tatham Gap to Robbinsville. Ignoring the eyesore of discarded items,

First to return to pavement, I’m quickly anxious as to why the group didn’t arrive soon behind me. Trouble? Well, yes; sort of. Don, smelling burning rubber, had stopped to discover he had thrown up a stone which defied all odds by lodging between his shaftdrive housing and rear tire. While the tire still held pressure, the sidewall was grooved somewhat, and it was impossible to know what actual structural damage might have occurred. Don was comfortable continuing the ride, but, to be on the safe side, we decided Esther should transfer to my bike.

There are passengers and there are passengers, and some are a whole lot better at it than others. Esther sat light as a feather, swelled my ego saying my riding was smooth like buttah, and our helmets never turtle-kissed once. (Don’s tire made it just fine the remainder of the trip) So, we’re now backtracked to Andrews, and running a little behind schedule, which had us following the gravel alternative to the Cherohala Skyway into Tennessee. We weenied out on the TN portion of that tasty gravel, enjoying the panoramas and quicker pace of the Skyway itself, and soon were caught up once again enjoying lunch in Tellico Plains. One final treat remained.

I personally was happy to be heading home to familiar and comfortable surroundings, thankful for good friends with whom to share some of my favorite places.

View all photos from this tour.

Tour write-up courtesy of Pete Tamblyn—our wonderful Tour Guide!