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Post date: Mar 18, 2017 12:2:9 AM
When planning routes for this trip there were only a few roads I knew I wanted to be sure to ride. One of them was route 129, the mountain pass between North Carolina and Tennessee. This route has been given the name “The Tail of the Dragon” and I would have no idea it even existed were it not for a dragon sticker on Dick Zunkel’s Goldwing. Having been exposed to the enigma of the sticker, I did some research and found quite a lot of online hype about this road. In planning for the trip, I knew if I was going to travel all the way across the country I may as well at least ride it so I can judge it for myself. For the past week I have felt like a salmon waiting in the ocean for the first rains to fall so I can swim upstream and spawn. The road running across the Appalachian Mountains has been off limits to me due to the cold front. So I have been traveling around Georgia inching ever northward in hope for a break in the cold weather. Last night I checked the forecasts, which had overnight temperatures still below freezing in the mountains, but daytime highs for the region were predicted to be in the mid 40’s. Well heck I thought, that’s the same temperatures I was in yesterday sitting in Atlanta traffic. I may as well risk it and try to make it through the pass on St. Patrick’s Day.
The morning was cold but nothing the heated bike gear could not make bearable. As I drove up into the mountains I had to reacquaint myself with the convex treads on my motorcycle tires. Feels like I have been riding on flat ground for so long I might have forgotten how to lean… Ice in the foothills, and the absolute lack of any other motorcycles on the road had me doubting my judgment, but as the day wore on and I pushed myself farther up into the mountains things warmed up and I reacquainted myself with the primal reason I was making this trip. For all my anxieties, there is something very simple about riding. You get on the bike and you go. That’s about it. No need to overthink it or worry about the route. As long as you can just keep rolling forward, the details tend to take care of themselves. It’s a very Zen statement, I know… but somehow it’s true.
I now know why they are called the Smokey Mountains. The blue hues mixed with the tops of the bare trees and distant frosting of snow create an amazing gradient of light filtering through clouds. On the bike most of the vistas were obscured by trees, or once again, were not safe enough to pull over and photograph as much as I tried. As I climbed closer to the pass the road grew smaller, diminishing into a thin two lanes twisted around the Little Tennessee River and its dams. The approach was so scenic and twisty that I was not sure I would even know when I was on the famous stretch… But then I hit the gift shops... The 11mile stretch of road that connects the states of North Carolina and Tennessee is one of the best-marketed roads I have ever traveled. With cycle oriented gift shops roadhouses and BBQ Bars on both ends it is clear this is designed to be a destination. As I came down the other side I saw a couple of Harley riders taking their bikes off a trailer and I realized I had dogged a bullet by being here in the cold season. I only really saw about half a dozen riders on the road the entire day but I can only imagine how crowded it must be during in the riding season, which begins in April.
The road itself is quite tight and twisty with 318 curves in 11 miles. I thought I would have it all to myself, but small souped up sports cars kept whipping past me from the opposite direction reminding me to keep in my lane. The car that could not keep in its lane was the Honda civic in front of me, despite its 10 mph speed maximum it could not navigate the curves and kept spilling over into the oncoming lane. Luckily the state trooper I saw a bit further down the road was not there when I did something slightly illegal to move the Civic into my rear view (Just doing my part to help contribute to the most dangerous road part of the dragon’s mythology)
What I was not prepared for on the road were the photographers. I noticed a kiosk at the start of the pass with some logos on it. During the ride at a few select turnout points were cars with the same logo accompanied by photographers that had positioned themselves and their cameras to photograph bikes coming over the curves. I did not stop to inquire but assume this was kind of like the photographs one gets at an amusement park. As you exit the logjam ride you have the option of purchasing your look of terror as you came down the chute…
With all this marketing, I’m still glad rode the Dragon. The road was fun, and like a good roller coaster when I finished, part of me wanted to turn the bike around and go again. But being greeted by temperatures in the mid 60’s on the other side, and an approaching rain clouds I decided to continue on to Knoxville. But do not doubt that marketing works, because in addition to having rode the Dragon today, I also purchased an enigmatic dragon sticker so I can return to California to perplex others, and to propagate the phenomenon…
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