Bill Lumberg
Merica
After many deferrals due to scheduling and weather, I finally nailed down the day after the 4th of July to meet my brother (from a neighboring state), for a long ride. Our meeting point took me off my normal route to Tapoco Rd/Robbinsville, and put us on the Cherohala Skyway. It was only the second time I'd been on it, and it is probably my favorite road in the southeast. Over the course of the day, I saw 8 FJR's, none of them grouped with any of the others. That's remarkable, numbers wise, for me. While it was supposed to be powering toward 90 degrees, it didn't break 70 until almost midday.
After running the skyway, we began US129, and stopped to eat at the restaurant across from the Killboy shop. While dining inside (no need to put ice in your drink, it was that cold in the dining area), I noticed a blue FJR pull up. Partly due to stickers and LD farkles, and partly due to the well-traveled stich, I stopped listening to conversation and began focusing on bike. I would have to at least say hello to the rider, who exuded a worldly aura that can only come from long miles. I suppose it was all the more refreshing to see a longrider while I was seated in a small sea of folks with leather vests whose panels were laced together with rawhide. The FJR turned out to belong to a very nice lady. We briefly discussed gear, apparel, and the zen of riding, and went on our separate ways. The young lady whose lunch I interrupted was the lauded FJRFarrier. Our brief conversation would be one of the high points of the day.
After around 7 hours on the road, we had yet to encounter any weather anomalies other than cooler-than-forecast temps. Well, that certainly couldn't last. Just clear of 129 and headed back to the north Georgia mountains, I finally hit the wall of water I knew I'd been dodging all day. And then another. And then another. Blinding squall, temp drop to the 60's, then clear for a bit. Too stubborn to put on rain gear, I kept going.
During perhaps the worst rain line I hit all afternoon, my Garmin 595LM seized. I must explain, while it works well some of the time, my fully updated (and preceded by two units that simply didn't work) 595LM is beset by glitches, and, at times, just locks up. Mid-monsoon, on a route I'd never taken before, I was without nav. For the price and functionality, I have concluded that the 595LM simply must have been designed and executed by the government. There is little other way to get such sketchy function for that price.
Of course this was in a no cell service area, so my iphones were no help. So I continued my bombing run through biblical rain, hoping I was getting closer to home rather than further. Fun, to a point. Finally, the rain broke long enough for me to rock my digital paperweight from the cradle, which, in this case, caused it to reboot without me having to remove the battery. Lucky me. Now, I was on the backiest of backroads. Happily, on this sojurn, I was not directed down any rutted goat tracks (that's another ride, another story). To my surprise and delight, I ended up dumping into McCaysville, GA at a right angle to the route I'd passed through it hours and inches before. I was back in the known world. So the Garmin did come through in the end. All in all, a very good 9.5 hour ride.
After running the skyway, we began US129, and stopped to eat at the restaurant across from the Killboy shop. While dining inside (no need to put ice in your drink, it was that cold in the dining area), I noticed a blue FJR pull up. Partly due to stickers and LD farkles, and partly due to the well-traveled stich, I stopped listening to conversation and began focusing on bike. I would have to at least say hello to the rider, who exuded a worldly aura that can only come from long miles. I suppose it was all the more refreshing to see a longrider while I was seated in a small sea of folks with leather vests whose panels were laced together with rawhide. The FJR turned out to belong to a very nice lady. We briefly discussed gear, apparel, and the zen of riding, and went on our separate ways. The young lady whose lunch I interrupted was the lauded FJRFarrier. Our brief conversation would be one of the high points of the day.
After around 7 hours on the road, we had yet to encounter any weather anomalies other than cooler-than-forecast temps. Well, that certainly couldn't last. Just clear of 129 and headed back to the north Georgia mountains, I finally hit the wall of water I knew I'd been dodging all day. And then another. And then another. Blinding squall, temp drop to the 60's, then clear for a bit. Too stubborn to put on rain gear, I kept going.
During perhaps the worst rain line I hit all afternoon, my Garmin 595LM seized. I must explain, while it works well some of the time, my fully updated (and preceded by two units that simply didn't work) 595LM is beset by glitches, and, at times, just locks up. Mid-monsoon, on a route I'd never taken before, I was without nav. For the price and functionality, I have concluded that the 595LM simply must have been designed and executed by the government. There is little other way to get such sketchy function for that price.
Of course this was in a no cell service area, so my iphones were no help. So I continued my bombing run through biblical rain, hoping I was getting closer to home rather than further. Fun, to a point. Finally, the rain broke long enough for me to rock my digital paperweight from the cradle, which, in this case, caused it to reboot without me having to remove the battery. Lucky me. Now, I was on the backiest of backroads. Happily, on this sojurn, I was not directed down any rutted goat tracks (that's another ride, another story). To my surprise and delight, I ended up dumping into McCaysville, GA at a right angle to the route I'd passed through it hours and inches before. I was back in the known world. So the Garmin did come through in the end. All in all, a very good 9.5 hour ride.
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