Last Ride of 05

The weather forecast taunted me all week long. Calling for a high of near 60 degrees with no chance of rain I found it increasingly hard not to take Friday off work and go riding. After all, I told myself, it's the last warm day of the year and I won't have many more chances to ride until spring brings warm days and clear skies. And so, answering a perceived call of the wild, I set out Friday morning for a day of riding in the mountains of North Georgia.

This trip had an agenda. Like Dorothy Parker I also hate writing but love having written. And it is that desire to "have written" that led to my desire to be published. However, the realization that I know nothing worthy of print has kept me from submitting a manuscript. Perhaps a travel story would be my ticket. After all, part of the reason I ride is to travel and if I can use motorcycle travel as a vehicle to get published then that's all the better. Some months ago I noticed that Georgia State Road 2 neatly cuts across the top of the State. Beginning near the Alabama border and traveling east the road leads into South Carolina on Georgia's eastern boundary the road covers approximately 170 miles of North Georgia scenery. Perhaps this road would also lead to a publishable story.

This day's ride was to be a reconnaissance mission, a chance to preview the road and see if I could find an angle or hook that would make for an interesting, and publishable, story. Since the winter solstice is quickly approaching my time on the road is limited. Therefore I knew I would likely need to break up this recon mission into two day trips. No problem. All I need is the slightest excuse to take a ride and this trip looked like it would easily allow a follow up trip.

Highway 2 begins at a junction with State Road 193, near the communities of Fantasy Hills and Flintstone, Georgia. I knew from looking at maps that sections of this ride would not provide the type of scenery I usually hunt out for travel. With scenery more akin to metropolitan Atlanta the ride began with a dim thud.

Heading east through Fairview and Ft. Oglethorpe the highway cuts under Interstate 75 and joins Highway 41 for a run into the city of Ringgold which would prove to be my salvation. With the first fifteen miles behind me the road narrowed to two lanes and I could see a lot of green and brown ahead of me.

Further east, after splitting with 41, the highway passes through Varnell, Prater Mill, and Beaverdale before taking a dog leg along State Road 225 into the town of Cisco at the junction with Highway 441.

Once before on a trip I tried to take photographs while riding. While a dangerous technique, I've seen examples in the past an they seemed worth the trouble. And though I still have plenty of room for improvement I was encouraged by the day's attempt.


Due east of Cisco lies the Cohutta Wilderness, a National Wilderness Area void of any motorized travel. A good part of my misspent youth was spent in the Cohuttas, hiking the trails and swimming in the mountain waterfalls of Jack's River.

From Cisco, Highway 2 follows 441 south, once again turning east in the town of Chatsworth. This provides the first twisty stretch of highway 2 as it climbs up Fort Mountain on it's way to Ellijay in the valley east of Fort Mountain. I first rode this stretch of Highway 2 nearly a year ago.

Since the starting point of my ride required a fairly long ride I was cover about 80 miles of State Road 2. However, with nearly a hundred of miles remaining I'm looking forward to my next ride.

Christmas Ride 2005

All I Want for Christmas is....

I'm starting this entry inside my local coffee shop (no, not another Starbucks) on Monday morning before work. When I started MotoPhoto I wanted a place to share pics from my motorcycle trips. I never intended to document every trip and haven't. Instead, my goal was to post only those trips where I concentrate on photography. By necessity that means I don't document social riding and long distance touring, where I have schedules to keep and the demands of riding partners to consider. That's ok, too. I enjoy riding to meet friends and riding with friends. However, that's not why I got into riding.

My ideal motorcycle trip is one where the only demands on my time are those I decide to accept and I remain free to change my mind at will. These are the trips where I throw my camera in the tank bag and head the bike west, or maybe north, sometimes east, and occasionally south. I keep my mind's eye open to the possibility that a photo exists around the corner or that I may have just passed one. In fact, I often find myself having to turn around to capture just the right composition. As a matter of travel philosophy I usually hate back tracking; Been there, done that, plowed the field, and ready for new soil to sow my wild oats. But while motoring down small two lanes at speeds occasionally (often) exceeding posted "limits" it takes a while for my mind to register a photo opportunity, consider the lighting and compositional options, and then stop the bike to prepare for the photograph. If turning the bike around to capture just what suits my eye is the price I must pay then that's fine by me.

Ok, so it's now Wednesday morning and I'm back at the coffee shop (still no Starbucks for me). From my perch in the corner I'm giving thought to where I should go for my Christmas ride.

The weather forecast is now calling for a significant chance of rain over the weekend but Friday's forecast is perfect; high of 56 and clear skies. I can't really ask for more.

Well, it's now Thursday morning and I'm ready to roll. All I have to do is get through another day of work and pack the bike tonight. The weather forecast now calls for a high of 57 degrees, up one degree from yesterday. And since I'll be in the mountains which are typically ten degrees colder, I can use every extra degree I can find.

Friday morning was the coldest yet so my plans for an early start were frozen in time just like the dew on my lawn. But, by late morning it had warmed to the low 30's and I was off on my trip. I raced to the mountains and found myself in light traffic with few cars heading north and even fewer bikes on the road.

One of the great things about the mountains is the road side markets. I've yet to figure out a way to ride and eat boiled peanuts. However, watch out behind me when I do 'cause they'll be a mess of shells headin' your way!

Most stands are impromptu affairs often based out of the back of a pickup truck. Just add a lawn chair for the wait between customers and a thick bankroll of one dollar bills and anyone can have their own stand. The best stands often morph into true businesses with four walls and a roof, or at least three walls and a roof.

The Shoal Creek Variety Store is one such business. The eighty year old proprietor was getting ready to shut down for the winter but stayed open one day longer because of the warm weather. That gave me a chance to stop by and purchase a jar of homemade "chow-chow", a sort of pickle relish, put up by the owner's sister.

Further on up the road I passed the cliffs on Yonah Mountain. This was the place where I learned to rock climb and has always held fond memories. By the early nineties the U.S. Army had taken over control of the mountain top and uses it today as a Ranger training site.

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The North Georgia mountains have lost their coat of green and the hardwoods now color the mountains in muted shades of brown. A few evergreens, mostly Pine, Hemlock, and Douglas Fir, punctuate the rolling brown hills and provide depth and contrast.

After passing through Cleveland I wasn't sure exactly where I wanted to ride so I took in a short rest stop and looked over my map. I hadn't ridden the roads in this part of the state in many years and thought today as good a day as any to cover them. The old store I stopped at had closed some years ago but it retained signs of many years' of service.

I don't know what business the building used to house but it had obviously been there for many years. North Georgia's fortunes have been on an upswing for at least the last twenty years as Atlanta's suburbs begin to sprawl ever northwards. And with plenty of land for vacation homes still available it's likely that trend will continue.

A few miles up the road I stopped agian, this time at the Batesville General Store which boasts the "Best Biscuits in Batesville." I can attest to the biscuits being great (try them with sausage gravey, mmmm!) and the fact the General Store serves the ONLY biscuits in Batesville takes nothing away from their title.

I returned to the road, heading northeast once again. The twisties in this part of North Georgia are mostly two-lane roads but over the years passing lanes have been added to many of the roads. As the day wore on and warmed up I saw more bikes on the road but automobile traffic was still light. It was obvious I wasn't the only person who wanted to get in a little riding before Christmas.

As I stopped along the road side for a photograph I noticed the light passing through a stand of hardwoods. For some reason the photo below reminded me of a scene from a mob movie, the title escapes me, where a wise guy is taken into the Jersey countryside for his "retirement". I sometimes wonder how my mind works.

Returning to the road, I headed north past Moccasin Creek State Park, making my way to State Highway 2.

I found the Popcorn Overlook on Highway 2 and stopped for a break. Most of North Georgia was logged during the late 1800's and none of the trees you see today are more than a hundred years old. In fact, one of the only virgin forest left on the eastern seaboard is in the Joyce Kilmer Wilderness, a few hours north in North Carolina. Pitch Pine, also called "Candlewood," was used by the early settlers who lit the gnarled knots and used them as torches.

Starting in the early twentieth century, much of North Georgia's land was purchased by the Federal Government to establish the Chattahoochee National Forest. U.S. Forest Rangers have managed the land for nearly a century and are widely credited with re-foresting the mountains.

I had a memorable ride which allowed me to both reconnect with past travels while at the same time explore once familiar roads from a new perspective. The interest of motorcyclist are inheriently different from those of an auto driver. While a driver can almost mindlessly throw his car into the next curve the rider must actively scan the roadway, mindful of what hazard the next twist may throw at him. The oportunity to grab a photograph or two at the same time just adds to my enjoyment!