Wanting to ride the Smoky Mountain 500 across Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina for about four years now, I finally made plans with a riding buddy. Then that plan fell apart.
Someone once told me that I was good with small children and dogs, but adults — not so much. I need a new riding partner. While I am chronologically an adult, mentally I remain adolescent. So, like a child I have decided to create an imaginary riding buddy. Much of my riding inspiration comes from the writings and adventures of my man crush, the late Neil Peart, famed drummer for the rock band Rush and avid motorcyclist who died of brain cancer in 2020.
I’ve read at least five of his travel books, some more than once. His travel and musical exploits are legend. At present the master is not available on this plane of existence, so I need to improvise. Where will I find a rider even remotely like the almighty Neil Peart? The epiphany came to me in a daydream where I was humming a song that I first heard Paul Newman sing in the classic film “Cool Hand Luke.” In the scene, Luke is grieving for his dying mother and sings, “I don’t care if it rains or freezes, as long as I’ve got my plastic Jesus.”
Brilliant. That is exactly what I seek. A figurine of sufficient stature, nay an adventure riding icon who was also a member of rock’s holy Canadian triumvirate. Enter Lego Neil Peart.
If your hero is famous enough, they will usually have a corresponding Lego figure. Lego facsimiles of Neil and the boys from Rush were a little harder to find than Batman or Thor, but I found him. Like the rock star he is, Lego Neil flew in all the way from Singapore arriving the day before departure for the SM 500.
“Lego Neil, are you ready for an epic off road adventure?” I asked my famous imaginary friend.
“Sure, but I suppose you are going to write some derivative drivel packed with my quotes, aren’t you?”
“You know me too well, bro.”
Jeff Smith of Tallahassee, Florida, joined my adventure after finding out Lego Neil and I were heading north and asked if he could join us. After a brief discussion with Lego Neil, we extended an invitation to ride. We trailered my 2024 Yamaha T7 and his 2005 KLR 650 up to the happy place in Suches, Georgia. Two Wheels of Suches will allow you to leave your truck and trailer overnight while you explore the backcountry.
After a decent sleep in a little red cabin at TWoS we headed out. Less than a mile east of the TWoS parking lot, we headed for a section of the SM 500. The forecast indicated a promising 30% chance of rain, so naturally it rained buckets most of the previous night.
Somewhere between Suches and Ellijay we ride a long downhill, rocky, slippery, rutted segment with several water filled holes. This is like riding motorcycles while solving algebraic equations. It is one of those times where inspiration turns to perspiration, and we must stop to catch our breath and take a nature break.
“Yeah, this is why most people do this counterclockwise because this stuff is easier and more fun to climb than descend,” Smith said.
At once the reality of all my planning to ride clockwise slaps me hard upside my head. Why didn’t I think of this when virtually everyone on the internet says, “Leaving tomorrow CCW.” Plus, the GPS tracks are by default directionally counterclockwise. Another lesson learned the hard way.
“You stubborn fool, why did you insist on going CW?” I heard Lego Neil says in my head.
“It seemed reasonable at the time.”
“Your cognitive dissonance is holding you back in life man!”
“I know, dude.”
Once my moment of self-loathing was over, my British ancestry forces me to keep calm and carry on. Compartmentalize the negativity. We are riding in the Blue Ridge Mountains. As my very British grandma would say, “Still mustn’t grumble.”
We are probably 40 miles in when we come to a wet section pocked with shallow muddy potholes full of 100% opaque water and no bottom visible. This is not a problem as I have already gone through a dozen without trouble. Along the way, I would occasionally look back to make sure Smith and the mighty 19-year-old KLR were still there. Constant as the northern star, they were always in sight. Moving along we approach another murky pothole about 12 feet across. I decide to hit it head on and throttle out just like the others. This one was way deeper.
The muddy wave my front end created crested over my head into my open visor, eyes, mouth and down my back. Once through, I stopped and turned to see Smith picking his way around this water hazard as far left as possible.
“When I saw you hit it at speed you completely disappeared in the wave, so I decided to go around,” Smith said.
“Glad I could be helpful,” I replied.
Based on a local recommendation, we stopped for lunch at Ellijay’s Little Italian. This small authentic bistro was delightful. Bellies full, onward in an unwise, clockwise fashion.
As is the case with most of my moto-adventures, time is the limiting factor. We only have two days to get back to Suches for the drive home. I also made a non-refundable hotel reservation near Robbinsville, North Carolina. We need to get there before the day ends.
Covering that distance completely off-road was too ambitious. Arriving in Tellico Plains, Tennessee, we left the SM 500 in favor of riding the Cherohala Skyway. I can already hear the groans of the puritanical adventure guys and feel the intended shame of their judgment. Look, the Cherohala Skyway is in my opinion the best 43 miles of road in the southeastern United States. It is one of my favorite rides anywhere and I feel zero shame making this run.
“You really can’t claim to ride the SM 500 if you don’t do the water crossings on Witt Road,” Lego Neil nags.
“Yeah, but the Skyway is my favorite road east of the Mississippi.”
“Poser.”
“Well, we can’t all be as hard core as you.”
Entering the Skyway from an adjacent gas station takes mere seconds and it’s on. Of course, we are immediately stuck behind a ginormous fifth-wheel camper that is hard to pass.
“Pulling that behemoth up this grade should be illegal,” Lego Neil says.
“Agreed.”
“Whack that throttle open and let her eat. Smoke this fool.”
“Hold my beer.”
After dispatching an RV the size of a navy frigate, the fun begins. Lego Neil and I start carving the big sweepers. I got my mojo working now. Eye placement is good, target fixation is off and for some reason I am not worrying about my knobby tires. As the elevation increases the temperature dips below 70 degrees. This is riding bliss.
The Yamaha acquits itself well and as usual Smith’s mighty KLR is not too far behind.
We all stop up top on the North Carolina side at Haws Knob, elevation 4,890 feet. The biologicals take their nature breaks and Lego Neil does some ADV riding on a granite wall. We tarry a little too long basking in glorious fresh cool air taking in the Appalachians rolling to the northern horizon as I notice a frigate sized RV go by.
“This view reminds me of my uncle’s country place that no one knows about,” Lego Neil says.
“Did he have a red Ferrari Barchetta?”
“Yes, how did you know?”
“Must have dreamed about it by the fireside.”
Just a few miles from Haws Knob we reach the end of the Skyway and turn left into the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest. I can’t ride through here and not remember Joyce Kilmer’s words, “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree.”
Right on JK. This part of the ride is paved, calm, and rewarding. The forest is a verdant green tunnel everywhere I look. It may be a placebo effect, but the lush vegetation makes me feel as if there is more oxygen in the air. Even at this late stage of the day I feel alert.
We take the Tail of the Dragon, U.S. 129, to Deal’s Gap and on to Fontana Village to spend the night at the Fontana Village lodge. We follow Joyce Kilmer Road and turn left on 129. After seeing only one other bike all day on the SM 500, a KLR, there is a noticeable number of cruisers on the highway undoubtedly traveling to and from Deal’s Gap. Just as we are about to turn off the highway to ride up to Fontana Village, almost adjacent to the Tapoco Lodge on the east side to the Cheoah River, we see a bike in the ditch with a rider down.
One of his boots came off. His injuries appear to be significant. Smith is a former Marine Corps tank commander and has experience with these situations. Just as I was about to press the SOS on my In-Reach, a good Samaritan in a blue Ford van stops. I ask the driver to go to the lodge and call 911. In a few minutes a first responder arrives. Smith and I are now superfluous, so we stand the Harley up and wish horizontal guy good luck.
Checking in at the Fontana Village Lodge was easy. The room is my favorite kind in that we park right outside the door and see the bikes 10 feet from the window. Easy to unload and get inside. While opening the door I heard a crash and Smith cursing. I turned to see Smith and the mighty KLR both sprawled out on the ground. The side stand completely snapped off during dismount. It’s not an adventure until something or someone gets broken.
“What’s the only thing cheaper than a KLR?” I ask.
“Oh wait, I know this one,” Lego Neil replies. “The owner.”
Smith was not surprised at the side stand failure because it had broken a couple years ago and in a fit of frugality, he decided to weld it instead of replacing it. He was able to scrounge a piece of 2×4 for a makeshift side stand, but this solution is going to be inconvenient at best. The mighty KLR also had some bolts vibrating loose so next morning we made the short ride to Stecoah and the Iron Horse Lodge.
The staff directed us to contact Wheeler’s Performance in Robbinsville.
Smith calls Wheeler’s Performance and leads with, “Hi. I have a Gen1 KLR, and I need a kickstand.”
Brian Tharas, the mechanic responds, “I think I can hook you up, and I won’t hurt you too bad on price.”
Wheeler’s Performance reminds me of the service stations of my youth. Gritty, ancient, cluttered and complete with two competent old school mechanics on duty. To our surprise, they have two Gen1 KLR parts bikes both with rusty but serviceable side-stands.
In short order, the mighty KLR was back in business.
“Bro, with that new kick-stand the value of your KLR doubled instantly. Now all you need is a new milk crate, and the upgrade ensemble will be complete,” I joked.
Tharas suggests $50 for the repair. Smith dropped a Benjamin Franklin on him for good measure. Tharas also does guided dual sport tours on local roads and trails for people interested in getting local ADV knowledge.
At lunchtime, we find ourselves at Roy’s Nutz & Buttz in Robbinsville. Carts of perfect dry rub covered, fat saucer shaped smoked pork mounds roll by our table. I have a weakness for smoked meats. In retrospect, while I enjoyed the meat, the tipping point for me was the Brunswick stew I ordered on the side. Like BBQ, Brunswick stew varies regionally in terms of preparation and ingredients. This cup was exceptional. I need to move before I fall into a pork induced comatose state. Back to the bikes.
The last leg of our journey runs south on Wayah Road around the eastern ridge of Nantahala Lake. Here I could concoct a flowery metaphor describing the lake’s beauty but that would be an injustice. Simply gorgeous will suffice. Wayah Road intersects with Rainbow Springs Road and the track heads southeast. This section is an adventure rider’s dream. Hard packed with light gravel and tight turns offers a fast track that rapidly disposes of miles. Whack the throttle open in the turns and break the rear loose. Pure enjoyment. As the shadows grow long, we make the decision to slab it back to Suches from somewhere around Dillard, Georgia. Back at TWoS we pack gear, load the trailer and prepare for the drive home.
What was learned? In two days, we rode 368 miles. I estimate 55% was unpaved. The only regret is that there was not more time to ride the whole route. I once read that the two best words in the English language are: “next time.”
“Well, that was certainly a great trip. Can’t wait to go again,” Lego Neil says.
“Me, too, little buddy. Me, too.”
