North Georgia Riding by Ron Smith

This is a little piece that Ron submitted to the TVSC mailing list. It describes riding around the north Georgia area and what some TVSC members do at least once a month.

Then again, for free: you take a left at Turner's Corner (you've ridden the first
15-miles at 50% to let yourself and the tires get lined up with conditions). The
surface on 129 at this hour is dry and predictable. The first half mile is a series
of left-right, well banked turns along a clear mountain stream. The tires are up to
temp. The campground store and camping area (No Motorcycles) rolls past on your
right. The road starts climbing. Still 2-lane at this point, the run-off area is
something you do not dwell upon. Hardwood and rock await the fortunate, an almost
vertical drop of several hunderd feet (in places) await the unfortunate. Now you see
the last left hander of the 2-lane section. There is no traffic in your direction
and the pack of rockets you just met coming down signaled no LEO presence up the
mountain. You are about to do one leg of the Cooler Run known as Blood Mountain. You
snick second gear and nail it as you exit the sweeping left. The road opens up to a
beautiful 3-lane on a 5% grade with a yellow 90-degree sign visible about a half
mile away. Third, fourth now she is winding to near the revlimiter and an indicated
buck-fity. Time to grab some binder and second again. Set up for the banked almost
90-degree right. Dark stripe in your line, let off the binders a bit and change
course. Close to the center line now, but there's a whole lane before the double
yellow. Roll on second and as soon as you can see the line, toss it to the left for
the 90-degree left that is welded to the right for a perfect S set of thrills.
Coming out of the left, she wants to drift the rear 208 out a bit. You make a mental
note to go back to Pilots next tire change. Another straight connects you to yet
another hard right. The grade now starts working against you. Gravity seems never to
really be our friend. A series of banked left-right-left-right-left turns are
visible as the grade starts to rise once again. The panorama of valleys and distant
mountain sides catches your attention for a split second. You force your self to
look back at the line and set up for the turns. The hard left is well past a 90
degree and is a first gear proposition unless you use the track-line and swing
across the lane markers. Some folks do and are faster through these. You chose to
ride the lane and your PACE and stab first. As soon as the throttle is opened back
up she lifts the front tire and you have to shift to second and get the line back.
Second and 60 mph through the 20mph turns will give you all the thrill of a  roller
coaster as she lifts off going over the banking. Just this once you let yourself
pretend to be on a track and use both of the uphill lanes so you can lift the front
and straighten out one set of turns. Now the road opens up for a couple of miles.
Not "open" as in WFO, but open as in 3rd and 4th gear. The curves lull you with
their predictability for these short miles. Then your periphreal vision triggers
your internal GPS memory as you rush toward yet another left hander at a buck
twenty. The memory is of a 110 degree hairpin that the banking isn't as helpful as
on the previous 50 or so curves. You recall the peg marks and bits of plastic that
were in this turn last year. As you get closer, you see the sacrifices to the God of
RoadRash are still being made. Uphill grade increases and another of banked
right-left-right-left with just enough of a hump in the center to et the front off
the ground in second. Last big 110 degree right hander is coming up. Lots of dark
stains in this one and amazingly no scaraficial plastic. This sob has always looked
like it is coated with diesel fuel, but actually has reasonable traction. I guess
the look of slippery has kept the speeds down. Up to the crest where the Appalachain
trail crosses 129 at Neal's Gap. Nice stone outfitter's store with a multi-mile
view. Cold drinks, trail food, expensive trinkets and top-notch camping gear. You
pull in and hit the kill switch. She "tinks" to you as her display goes off. Pull
the lid off, light up a smoke and wait. You hear the Muzzy's, Yosh's and  M1s way
before they are close to the stop. The mountains echo with the sound of another
group doing the section you just ran. You wait, mentally picturing where they are.
Trying to guess what bikes is making the sweet sounds. A couple of minutes later the
pack arrives. Guys laughing, looking at their stripes and making good-natured fun of
their buddy's 1/4 inch pussy stripe. No cheap tires here. They don't often make it
this far. Good day and the conditions at 3500 feet are perfect. Grind out the smoke.
Wave to the new crowd. Saddle up and go get you some more. 

Awaiting at the end of your day, there is a nice campground bordered by a 24/7 trout
stream overhung with oak and hickory trees. The clear waters rush over a concrete
dam where a hundred year old grist mill crumbles. The fading timbers and rusting
machinery a testimony that for everything there is a season. As tthe waters flow on
around the campground they tumble over rocks and make the most soothing
tent-sleeping noise ever devised. You have an ice chest of cold brews, and a cheap
lawn chair to sit in and watch the last glow of the sun as it sinks behind the
mountains. The fog has begun to mist the the vally along the creek route. Time to
build the campfire and kick back. Gotta get up and do this again tomorrow. Sweeet
dreams.................