After leaving my Marines, I headed a little further south, to Robbinsville, NC, to spend some time on the wonderful twisty roads of the area. I took Highway 129 and rode Tail of the Dragon... five times. Once I finished with that, I headed toward Robbinsville to check in to my room.
I should have followed the signs instead of the GPS on my bike, but I didn't. I ended up hopelessly lost. I probably rode every mile of a nearby Cherokee reservation while trying to find my bearings. At one point, I ended up on a rock/dirt road that led to the most difficult riding I've encountered - ever. This was more trail than road, full of large rocks, ruts and mud puddles. I eventually reached a point where I knew that continuing down that road would lead to disaster, but turning around was tricky in its own rite. I have to admit, this was the most concerning moment of the entire trip. I was in the middle of nowhere, with no phone cell service and I had no idea how far I was from the nearest help. I was nervous that I'd drop the bike while making the 500-point U-turn on that teeny, hilly, muddy road, but I made it out. From there, I finally found a sign, but went the wrong way...
I had planned to ride the Cherohala Skyway; it's beautiful. I didn't want to do it exactly then, but that's where the wrong turn took me. If I'd have turned left, I'd have been in Robbinsville in minutes. I ended up going right and following the Cherohala Skyway for its entire route... in the pouring rain... which brought a bunch of that famous Smoky Mountain fog... and road crews were doing tree trimming, so there were areas covered in crushed wood, leaves and random other debris on the road. The water soaked through my rain gear.
I'd like to clarify that I was never scared or worried on the Skyway. My plan was to get somewhere that had cell service and write down directions to the hotel, but something better happened. I got into a small town and gassed up. Another rider was there at the same time, and we chatted about our situation. It turned out he was going back to Robbinsville as well, so I just followed him. Once we got back, we hit a diner and swapped rider stories. After dinner, I retired to my room and enjoyed the sleep of the dead.
To the uninitiated, this might sound a bit harrowing. While my brief off-road adventure gave me a moment of concern, I was not horribly worried, because my life was not in imminent danger. From my perspective, running the tail was perfect, followed by a misadventure. And let's face it: Misadventures make the best stories.