If one looks at a map and plans a sensible route from Chattanooga (Tennessee) to Robbinsville (North Carolina) there is no logical reason to go through Georgia.......If one looks at a map and plans a sensible route from Chattanooga (Tennessee) to Robbinsville (North Carolina) there is no logical reason to go through Georgia. But there again this trip isn’t really about being sensible or logical, and from the British traveller’s point of view you have to go to Georgia – it’s where rednecks come from isn’t it? New item for the blog: “SONG OF THE DAY.” Today’s song “Good Directions” – have a listen at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4lBRJUTyLc">This webpage
if you fancy getting into the spirit. (If my IT skills have failed try cutting and pasting: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4lBRJUTyLc into the browser address).

Anyway, we set off slightly later than planned this morning having got engaged with the story of the Delta Queen boat/hotel where we were staing. Yesterday, coincidentally, was a big a big day for them, having just survived a bid by the Chattanooga mayor to move them out (long story but basically old ship not fitting for a modern city). We are the UK experts now having spent the evening in the ships bar with the Manager and the last Captain to sail with the boat. So needless to say this morning we felt the need to have a proper look around this dear old girl. Keep the ship, get rid of the mayor – that’s our view.

Then, a relatively short day’s ride took a bit longer than planned. The compulsory visit to the Chattanooga Harley shop (Stuart need a teeshirt) turned into something of an event. An estimated 25 000 Harley Riders were beginning to muster for the annual “Trail of Tears” ride to commemorate the tragedy that was the forced relocation of native Americans from the south eastern states in the mid 1800s. An interesting bit of history that I must admit I didn’t know much about until today. Amongst the multitude of groups represented at this festival were the “Black Sheep” – a worthy Christian group who act as voluntary chaplains to the biker community (hospital visiting etc). Mimicking Jesus’ act of washing his disciple’s feet they polish the boots of passing bikers. No fee, no sermon, no spoken message…… Great guys. God bless’em!

And then on through Gerorgia (and past all the rednecks) to a superb little B&B in North Carolina. When we booked it they had warned us that the (long driveway) was not tarmac road; they weren’t exaggerating! Heavy motorcycles and uneven gravel are not natural chums, and so Stuart and I had to leave our pillions to walk the last half mile. Did they have to walk it? Of course not – this is the Smokie Mountains. I arrived at the B&B and the landlord wasted no time in giving me his car-keys to go back and get them. No signing insurance docs required in North Carolina when there are girls on the road side! But this good turn was beaten by another. Stuart was a little way behind me and had stopped at a random house some way short of our destination. These kindly folk - with nothing to gain - heard the story and leapt up to go and collect the ladies. But better than that, they also had some guests including, coincidentally, some fellow Harley riders that we had met in a diner about 70 miles back along the road. He recognised Stuart. “The ladies might not get in the car with a stranger” one of our fellow bikers said to his landlord “I’d better come with you because they know me.” A 5 minute conversation between bikers equals membership of the gang. Wonderful.

The Black Sheep doing their thing:

A little coutry store with an old coke sign....

Lunch at Herb's. THe bikers met here came in useful later!