Subject: RCR Trip Report Date: Wed, 23 Jul 1997 10:37:01 -0400 (EDT) From: Cliff Weston Reply-To: east@dnrc.bell-labs.com To: Multiple recipients of list The Basics: 1800 miles, 5 days, 1 rally, 2 runs of the Dragon, 1 lost bolt The Long-Winded Version: Heading Out There: I should say that Sari and I are moving to Portland OR in about 3 weeks. Not only was this the last RCR I'll hit for awhile (breaking my streak), but also my last foray into the great roads of the eastern US. Having sold my beloved CBR1000 and recently acquired a '93 ZX-6, I ordered the Givi mounting hardware at the last minute. Receiving it Tuesday, I found that it didn't fit. A frantic few calls Wednesday to Givi produced an overnighted new set, which fit with the greatest of effort. OK, I'll just ride out to the far end of Kentucky in one day, then. :( Knowing I'd have to slab the bulk of the trip, I started down the Blue Ridge Parkway. After a couple hours, I hopped off and onto I-81/I-40/I-24 through Knoxville/Nashville/Clarksville, rolling into camp around 10:30, some 660 miles and 13 hours later. I believe I can claim to be the last *motorcycling* arrival at this year's event. The RCR: Saturday saw a group head to Little Sturgis for the "rally", a larger group zoom east to Mammoth Cave, and a small, elite squad remain in-camp, cooking up lies for later, trying to pick the door lock of the van in which the beer resided, and rifling the others' tent contents. Dave Lawrence had been sent to California for two weeks flanking the RCR; he used this as an excuse to fly in rather than ride. Despite his entreaties, the pilot refused to explore any dirt roads. Dave arrived sometime that afternoon in a snappy white Oldsmobile (he was heard to remark that he "liked the look" of this geezermobile). Its trunk came in handy, letting us haul a couple of coolers down to the lake, where the RCR Meal was served. In pulling one of the coolers out, I managed to spill maybe two gallons of water into the trunk -- I did squeegee it into the spare tire well, though. We feasted on the usual RCR fare; I was disappointed to find no Busch Lite in cans, but made do with some other off-brand. A couple photos were taken of the Sacred Six, those fools who've attended every RCR [Mr. Bill, Ian Howie, Martyn Wheeler, Dave Lawrence, Mark Cervi, and Cliff Weston], during which we lamented the absence of Jim Bessette and Dean Cookson (it used to be the Sacred Eight). Returning to camp, we broke out the bottles and began benchracing in earnest, swapping lies, damn lies, and some statistics. Muffy appeared later that night, seeming surprised to be there. Perhaps twenty minutes later, she and Martyn disappeared into his tent, not to emerge for the remainder of the night -- a turn of events that left many of us deflated. I bailed a little later, waking at 12:30 to find the camp deserted. The Aftershock: Mark Cervi had set the Harley for 6:30, as he put it; with so many miles to cover, people left even earlier than usual. Mark, his wife Sieglinde [sp?], and I headed to Mammoth Cave and took the tour, enjoying the cool temperature and low humidity. We then pressed on to Deals Gap, hitting the Dragon at nightfall and the Crossroads of Time at ~9:45. Running the Dragon at night was surreal: watching the road ahead in Mark's swinging headlight beam, trying not to be fooled into leaning with it, feeling like my head was on a pendulum. The ZX disliked the extra and rearset weight of the loaded Givis, gently shaking her head in curves. Hanging off or laying down on the tank helped a bit, though, and gave me the excuse to shift around on the bike. We pitched tents and had some cool beers (no ice), retiring after 1:30. Monday saw us cruise the Gap again, then follow the Foothills Parkway around and through the Smoky Mountains National Park, stopping to pick up lunch and picnic by the creek somewhere in the park. We fought some traffic in Cherokee and stopped at Cycle Touring and Service in Bryson City, where an 8mm bolt was obtained to replace the one that had shaken itself out of my Givi rack. A quick inspection revealed that three other bolts were loose (!), they were resecured as well. Upon our return, we found that Pete had closed shop early -- good thing I got some food at the Fontana Village resort instead of Pete's. We hung out for a bit, talking to a guy from around Daytona on an R1100/1200(?) and the couple, also from Florida, riding a Daytona 1200 and a Ural with a sidecar. I laid down to rest my back a bit and holy cow, it was morning! Hyper Horniness Syndrome: I planned to swing down through 28E/107N, allowing me to travel through both Georgia and South Carolina. Gassing up in Robbinsville, I met a man who gave me some good directions and recommended Dry Falls, a place where you can walk (or, if no one's looking, maybe ride (heh-heh)) behind the waterfalls. After inquiring what church I attended ("Our Lady of 147th Street"), we parted and I ran my loop, missing the falls entirely. :( The plan then called for me to join the Parkway in Cherokee, riding it either all the way home or at least as far as Boone (US421), which is the only part I'd never ridden before. Traffic was hit-or-miss, with most people moving over and waving me by on the double-yellow stretches and the occasional accelerate- to-70-to-try-to-hold-me-off-in-passing-zones Neanderthal. Rain joined the party south of Asheville, becoming constant north of there. By Boone, the rain, fog, and slow cages had increased, so I jumped off onto 21N into bustling Wytheville. I-81 was only marginally truck-filled, so I brought the ZX up to the highest speed the headshake would tolerate (75-80 steady, up to 95 to test my nerve) and pointed it north. I'd planned to camp somewhere in southern VA that night but was overcome with a desire to see my wife again; gritting my teeth, I slabbed the whole way and surprised her at 9:30. Another 13-hour day, and maybe 550 miles or so (in all the excitement, I kind of lost count). I'd like to throw a big thanks to Martyn for the enormous chore that planning and Oompahing an RCR is, and to Mark & Sieglinde Cervi for being the perfect travelmates. Mark found the nice roads, picked a good pace, and bailed me out when funds ran low and the ATMs were scarce. It was great seeing people again and meeting some new personalities, too. I'll try hard to get a crappy job next summer so I can have the time off to ride all the way to eastern PA. Ride safely, Cliff