...we head down the forest road, the class is trying hard not to repeat the Maury's moves. After quite a bit of gravel riding we come to the next demonstration - water crossing. Now this is getting fun. We each take turns and are critiqued on our river crossing technique - very exhilarating. We do a few more water crossings and then head to lunch at Two Wheels Only Campground...LEG 1 DAY 5&6
Georgia Mountain BMW Motorcycle Owners’ Association Rally
269 RALLY MILES

On the morning of the first day of the rally, I wander up to the pavilion. It is heartening to see other motorcyclists with actually more gear packed on their bikes than I have. Huge trailers towed by motorcycles that expand into tents complete with dressing rooms. Sidecars outfits and dogs carriers on motorcycles complete the scene. A few vendors are starting to set up. Other than that, still pretty quiet, since it is Friday and most rally attendees will show up tonight.The charity pancake breakfast isn’t until tomorrow, so Brad and I ride into town for a late breakfast, after registering. We pick a small diner, nothing special, but I am amazed at the low cost. Brad has a route planned out that hits some of the best roads in the area, I guess that’s what you do at a rally, ride.

I am convinced that the roads in the Georgia mountain area are designed by motorcyclists. The crowns of the roads are such that they cradle the motorcycle. I let Brad set the pace, he is a much more experienced rider. Keeping up as best I can, I find that I am enjoying the challenge of comfortably pushing my limits. About halfway through the trip we hit some pretty heavy rain and I am completely unprepared. Leaving the campground I had thought we were just going to breakfast. We pull over to wait it out and I ask if we are close to the campground. I then find out that this little loop Brad planned is in excess of one hundred miles. Now, I am starting to understand rallies.

Through clearing skies, we eventually make our way back to the campground. It’s chili night at the rally. I walk into the pavilion and up to the kitchen counter, where I am handed a luke-warm bowl of chili in a styrofoam bowl. Brad and I are prepared though with a couple Killian's to wash this stuff down. The ceremonial bonfire is lit, at least two cords of petroleum soaked logs, and rallyers gather like moths. After about two hours of technical difficulty, a small band of amateur musicians begins to play easy listening classic rock. I opt not to offer my technical skills, early on I sense the mounting frustration of too many uneducated guesses to the problem. And after all, its that kind of shit that I am getting away from, play acoustic why don’t ya?

The only other activity tonight is a seminar on first aid for motorcyclists. Thinking that it would be valuable information for my trip, I attend. At this point in the evening I had consumed a few beers and I was in more of ‘party mode’ than first aid mode. After a few minutes of compound fractures and other gruesome talk I exit the pavilion. It made the band a little more listenable.

“Two dollar all you can eat pancakes” and worth it. Morning, day two of the rally. With quite a few late arrivals, the area that I am camping in filled up quite a bit through the night. Included in these newcomers is Adriane, Brad’s ex-girlfriend (but still a good friend it seems).
Time for the GS ride, about a dozen riders (including Brad and Adriane) gather outside of the pavilion. We learn that there are two options: an instructor lead tour for beginners and a self guided tour for the more advanced rider. I go for the much needed instruction and Brad and Adriane daringly head off on their own.

About seven of us are lead by the instructor to a National Forest road where we stop for the first lesson. Our instructor, Maury, is a short, stocky fellow and it is obviously not comfortable on his borrowed F650, a rather tall bike. While showing us the finer points of the power slide and skid, he drops the bike about three times. The class is struggling to hold back the laughter as some of the guys are trying to help him not fall over again.

We head down the forest road, the class is trying hard not to repeat the Maury’s moves. After quite a bit of gravel riding we come to the next demonstration - water crossing. Now this is getting fun. We each take turns and are critiqued on our river crossing technique - very exhilarating. We do a few more water crossings and then head to lunch at Two Wheels Only Campground. As the name implies a motorcycle only resort. It was good to see the place, but I think I prefer my National Parks - I’ve heard enough Harley’s growing up next to Daniel's Biker Bar in Elkridge.

Two Wheels Only

Returning to camp, I run into Adriane. She tells me about her rather exciting day. In between their dirt riding she unintentionally left the pavement and wiped out in the grass, pushing her limits with Brad as I had done the day before. She was a little banged up as was her bike, but in good spirits. Brad was on his way back home to fetch his trailer, since she did not feel comfortable riding the bike back home.

Steak dinner “cooked the way you like it” night at the rally. Meaning you are handed a raw piece of meat and shown to the massive charcoal grill set up in the parking area. Not too bad, a shade better than the chili and we have more Killian’s. Now its time for the door prize drawings and awards ceremony. A torturous affair, seemingly endless, as you wait under florescent lights as numbers are drawn. The smart bikers are outside smoking and drinking, a few of these wander in attempting to claim prizes with mistaken tickets.

After what seems like hours of awards and prize drawings, another few cords of wood are set ablaze and the crowd gathers again. I run into a guy I had met while doing my laundry, earlier this afternoon. I tell him of my travels and he says he is on a similar trip, except that his odyssey is taking place in a Chevy Astro van that he has been living out of for the past few years. He had a problem with the washer earlier and I told him to report to the campground office, which he refused, “Don’t want to go drawing too much attention” he said. After talking with him at the fire, I realized that he was squatting and ducking the modest $5 camping fee, what a loser. My new friend incessantly insists that we smoke a joint, which I turn down. He then makes a similar offer to Brad and Adriane, who are not interested either. Finally he stumbles off to join some other drunks willing to put up with him and we head back to camp hoping he doesn’t follow us.

Adriane, Brad and damaged F650