The Canadian Caper - Turning my New VFR into a Real Adventure *Final Installment*

[Olive]

Ever since I got my license, I knew that a Honda VFR was in my future. Exactly where in my future remained to be seen. Cost was part of the reason why I hadn't moved on one earlier. But my June/July trip into the States on the F800 convinced me that perhaps there was a better option for me.

Unlike other purchases I didn't have to do a lot of research. I knew I wanted a 6th Gen VFR. I also knew that there were some decent deals still available for in-the-crate bikes from 07, 08 and 09. So I started looking around. It was quickly clear that the best deal would be found if I were willing to shop across the border. I did a bit of research and talked to people on the forum who had imported a bike from the States, and started keeping an eye open for the right deal.

When I started thinking about my options I decided that if I was going to fly down to the States to pick up a bike I might as well turn it into a decent trip. That narrowed down where I was looking. I wanted to see something new. I had ridden Western USA earlier this year. The trip had gone all the way down the west coast - Washington, Oregon, California. Then I headed in through Nevada, Arizona and Utah, getting together with friends for what has become a yearly ride/meetup at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. Finally, I headed home through Colorado, Wyoming, Montana and Idaho. I really enjoyed that trip, but it seemed time for somewhere new. The South East has a great deal of appeal, especially areas around the Smoky Mountains. So I focused my search in that area.

If you are reading this post you probably have an idea that I did find the right deal in a good area. This series of ride reports will share the tale of the trip, sharing stories and lots of photos of the journey home.

------------------------------------------

In the beginning there was the idea...

...then it became a reality.

This entire trip came about very quickly. I had been scouting for the right opportunity for a few months, and suddenly the universe decided to cooperate. I found the bike I was looking for, at a price I was willing to pay, and in a prime location.

At first glance Charlotte, North Carolina might not look like an optimum vacation destination, but given that this was to be a vacation on two wheels, the location seemed prime.

On motorcycle forums I have “met” and talked to a lot of people online over the past few years. Have even met a few of them in person. This was an opportunity to meet more friends in person and to ride with them on prime roads in a beautiful location. It was also an opportunity to take one more decent solo run before winter settled in.

Fall had already arrived in Calgary. A few photos I had taken a week before I left on my trip show the leaves and seasons turning. I knew I was taking a calculated risk with the weather for the trip back, and it was possible to hit some nasty weather on the last day back. It was a risk I was ready to take in exchange for a memorable trip.

But perhaps it is best to start from the beginning of this adventure – just one week before I got on a plane is when everything fell together for me. I had been negotiating on an RWB 2007 Honda VFR. And I thought that I had the deal finalized. I was waiting for the dealer to send me some paperwork so that I could go to the bank and facilitate a wire transfer to claim my new ride. The dealership was moving very slow, and seemed reluctant to confirm a few details for me. It was at this point that I found out that the “new out of the box” bike I had been negotiating on wasn't quite new and had a little damage beyond the small scratch that had been identified to me. I was simply not going to accept a bike with frame damage. What a huge disappointment!

At this point I started talking to the manager directly. He moved at a pace that I was more comfortable with. (Of course, it helped that we understood each other. I told him that by the end of the day we either had a deal, or I we were not going to talk further). Within an hour we had modified the deal for a dark silver 2008 Honda VFR. T understood that I was no too happy about the situation with the other bike and bent over backwards to make the 08 happen for me.

Half an hour after we had made our agreement, my email chimed through with the info I had been waiting for. I arranged a deposit by wire transfer, and then booked my flight. When I make up my mind to do something I don't sit around for long.

The first a lot of my friends heard about the trip was a post on my usual forum about “arranging a fall ride”. The post went up about half an hour after the flight was booked. Of course I was deliberately vague, and I figured that people would clue in quickly enough. A few people were disappointed with the lack of advance notice, but I didn't know what I was doing until just before I posted up, so I'm sure they have forgiven me.

Fast forward a couple of days. The forum got rather busy – or at least my end of it did. Posts, Pms, emails and even a few phone calls were exchanged, and the plans started to shape up. I posted up on VFRD about the trip and looking for routing suggestions. I talked to Radar about frame sliders - and determined that I probably didn't want to be drilling holes in the fairings and trying to modify the radiator bottle when I was 2,500 miles away from home.

As all of this was happening, I had a few things to deal with as well. The wire transfer took longer than anticipated to arrive. I had to confirm details of exporting the bike from the United States and importing it into Canada. Obviously I had already done my research on this, but I wanted to ensure that I had all of my “I”s dotted and “T”s crossed, otherwise I was going to be parking at the border for a few days – not something that I wanted on my itinerary. There were parrots along with their large cages to be moved, gear to be cleaned and packed, maps to be picked up, money to exchange and errands to be run. I arranged insurance for the bike, and booked time off of work. And of course, I also had to arrange for a bank draft for the balance of the purchase. As it turned out, the Tuesday before I left only got a couple of hours sleep because of an interview that came up unexpectedly, and all day Wednesday in preparation for the Thursday morning flight was spent awake. Since I work graveyard shift I am up all night. The middle of the day is my night, so I was running on quite the sleep deficit at this point.

Middle of the day on Wednesday I realized that I hadn't seen my passport in a few hours. So I started hunting around for it, getting more concerned by the minute. It didn't have legs the last time I had seen it earlier in the day, but apparently had sprouted a fresh pair. Eventually I discovered that I had put it in my back pocket. Nice and safe. I quickly put it into my money belt along with a bank draft and US currency, and clipped the belt to my tank bag. Since I had agreed to work a half shift Wednesday night/Thursday morning, and didn't get off until 3:30 am I was more than a little tired when I got to the airport at 5:00 am.

It had been quite some time since I last flew. I was reasonably well prepared, and had thought out transporting my gear carefully. There was not enough time to ship it and meet it in the states, and given the costs of checked baggage it seemed to be a very good idea to limit myself to one checked item. I had a lot of awkward items I needed to bring with me. Tent and basic camping gear. Helmet. Riding gear. Heated vest. Boots and gloves. Clothing. Motorcycle luggage. Hmmm.... it soon was apparent that it is a lot easier to simply pack the bike and ride than to worry about packing for a flight.

In the end I determined that the best course of action was to pack the big bulky items such as my helmet and tent in a large cardboard box. To save room in the box I stuffed the tent around items in the box, and used the nylon to fill up any small nooks and crannies along with everything else. It was a three dimensional jigsaw puzzle. After I was fully packed it dawned on me that perhaps it would be a good idea to pack my SIDIs as well. I certainly didn't want to wear them on the plane. Since the airline allowed for one piece of carry on luggage I identified my saddlebags as carry on luggage (after packing them lightly I had to compress them with straps so that they would meet size requirements), and identified my tank bag as a “purse/briefcase”. Wearing my riding jacket as a garment, I was ready to fly.

At 4 am, I took a shower and got dressed for the trip, and then tested the limits of a friendship. M. is generally an early riser, but she was not very impressed with being awake at the unreasonable hour of “Oh-Dark-Early”. Early mornings used to bother me, but now I see them more in the light of “afternoon”. Since I don't have to get up for them, I don't object nearly as strenuously.

A picture from the airport – this is the reason why I got some odd looks from airline staff and other passengers. My luggage was a little unconventional.

My ride to the airport, M, wasn't impressed with the hour of Oh-Dark-Early. My flight wasn't until 7am, but the airlines request that passengers arrive two to three hours early for international flights. My trip does qualify as international, so I got to hang out at the airport.

As I checked in an airline attendant pointed out that my carry on luggage looked too large to fit their required dimensions, pointing at a hollow tubular metal frame that it had to fit into. I took the saddle bags and slam-dunked them into the frame. The extra energy applied ensured that they went in smoothly and the objection ceased. However removing the luggage from the frame was a different question. Finally I wrestled it free.

I shuffled through long slow moving lines, and and explained the purpose of my trip to a few unsmiling officers of the US Department of National Security, and then reached luggage screening.

The last time that I flew was for an Uncle's funeral. It had been with my father, and I remembered the joys of dealing with airport security. At that time I didn't have any luggage as it was a day trip, but security decided that they would make sure that the woman wearing a dark suit wasn't an issue. After disrobing to bare feet, slacks and a shell top, security asked me to remove the pins holding my hair in an updo. The wand beeped every time it had passed over them. (It has been a lot of years since I have had long hair, just to give you an idea how long ago this was). Following my father out of customs that day was amusing. He was fully dressed, and I was carrying half of my clothes and looked a sight with my hair disheveled. Much to my chagrin I had to borrow a comb from my father to try to regain a groomed appearance. It's probably a very good thing that there were no cameras handy at the time.

But I digress into the past. Security today is more strict. I had to unpack half of my carry on luggage into plastic bins, and I completely forgot about my belt and the change in my pockets. After a through wanding and pat down (my clothing had enough metal to set the wand to beeping – rivets in jeans, metal clips, etc... ) I was waved through to the cleared area.

Hmmm... two hours to kill. A nice tall coffee was in order. It seemed that a lot of the other travellers felt this was a good idea as well.

A plane parked outside the terminal.

The flight boarded on time, but we sat on the ground for quite some time as ground crews shuffled luggage. The pilot explained that they had mistakenly loaded too much cargo in one compartment. I sat looking out of the window and watched my box travel down a long conveyor and get tossed back on a luggage truck. It was rather identifiable.

Finally we were in the air. There is not much to be said for a flight, except that it is long and boring. I was fortunate enough to get a short nap on the flight. Reaching Houston I traded one airport for another, waiting for my connecting flight.

After I arrived in Charlotte, I had to reclaim my cardboard suitcase. When I found it, someone had thoughtfully pulled it off of the conveyor belt for me and the lid was partly ripped open, despite the amount of packing tape that had been used to secure it. It was rather large and awkward to carry. I claimed it and hauled it over to an information board to check out what was near the airport for hotels offering shuttle service. I opted for an inexpensive hotel called “Microtel”. Picking up the courtesy phone I dialed the code and requested a shuttle service. I was told to meet the shuttle outside door 1 – this was the opposite end of a long building. I collected more strange looks as I carried all of my gear. I didn't want to spend the cash for a luggage cart.

I found the shuttle van and loaded my luggage. The ride to the hotel was short. Beside me on the bench seat was another traveller who studiously ignored me, staring straight ahead. I looked around as we drove, checking out what Charlotte had to offer.

Arriving at the hotel I reclaimed my luggage and checked in. I headed upstairs and dropped everything off in my room. Hmmm... I was tired, but still wide awake. And given the hour I decided it would be a good idea to find something to eat. There were two options near the hotel - it was either Waffle House or Cracker Barrel. So I headed for the latter. Checking out the menu it was nice to see some food that was inspired by the south, so I tried Catfish and Dumplings.

I walked back to the hotel and settled in for the evening, sending an email to the dealership to let them know where to pick me up in the morning. I was very happy to get an email back in very quick order welcoming me to Charlotte and confirming that their driver would be there in the morning. It was outside of dealership hours, and gave me one less thing to worry about. That extra service made a difference!

Stay tuned for the next installment where I pick up my new ride...

[chonsey]

:lurk: :beer: :fing02:

[Guest]

nice post, i can't wait to read more. nice photos too.

[Dutchy]

Yep folks, brace yourselves, Olive writes nice reports and make great pictures :fing02:

[skuuter]

Yep folks, brace yourselves, Olive writes nice reports and make great pictures :fing02:

YEP, it will only get better from here.....waitin' Girl..... :fing02:

[Guest]

hey great adventure, can't wait for the next installment.

[y2kvfr]

This is going to be good great!

[AussieinUSA]

You've still got alot of that map to color in...whats taking ya.. :biggrin:

[alwaysaware]

Have fun on your trip. I hope you don't catch any winter storms. Take lots of pics and keep us all posted on your adventure. :fing02:

[Rice]

:lurk: :fing02:

[Olive]

Alwaysaware - it's too late to take any more photos on the trip because I'm already home. I don't have time or facilities to do a proper ride report on the road, so I post after I get back. I tend to get a litte verbose and take a lot of photos so you can expect the ride report to reflect that as it unfolds over the next few weeks.

Aussie - more of the map would be coloured in if work wouldn't have the unreasonable expectation that I show up every night rather than take off riding for weeks at a time. But since they provide me with a paycheque it seems a fair exchange.

[dude]

Alwaysaware - it's too late to take any more photos on the trip because I'm already home. I don't have time or facilities to do a proper ride report on the road, so I post after I get back. I tend to get a litte verbose and take a lot of photos so you can expect the ride report to reflect that as it unfolds over the next few weeks.

Aussie - more of the map would be coloured in if work wouldn't have the unreasonable expectation that I show up every night rather than take off riding for weeks at a time. But since they provide me with a paycheque it seems a fair exchange.

Do you write for a daily or something? :laughing6-hehe: Great write-up Olive :fing02:

[V4 Rosso]

This is going to be good great!

Looking forward to the next episode.

[Olive]

The Canadian Caper - First Impressions of a New Ride. (Part 2)

The next morning I woke up in a hotel in Charlotte, North Carolina and tried to sit up. Ugh! I was very stiff. The bed had left a lot to be desired. I probably would been better off to have slept on the floor on a sleeping pad. Slowly I got moving and grabbed a quick shower. Next I unpacked the box and set up everything in the saddle bags, with the tent and riding gear left out to carry or wear. I seemed to be missing a few of my tools - at the time I figured that they were likely left behind at home. It wasn't a big deal, allen keys, a ratchet driver and sockets could be found anywhere. I had everything else - tire patch kit, small compressor, and the rest of my tool kit. Since the hotel included a free breakfast I headed downstairs to grab coffee.

A short while later my phone rang. It was my driver from the dealership, he was outside ready to pick me up. I gathered up my gear, and settled for wearing my helmet as a hat as I headed down the stairs both arms piled full to the amusement of a few people I encountered in the hallway.

The hotel wasn't very far away from Charlotte Honda so I mostly saw tree lined freeways as we headed over. Very friendly driver, we talked about bikes. He was also a little curious about the trip. They had sold bikes into Canada before, but had always shipped them. The concept of a person flying out and riding home had a lot of novelty value.

Arriving at the dealership, I was taken out to see my new bike. It suddenly felt very real – I had managed to pull this off in record time. I set my gear down in the service office, checked out the shiny new bike.

Of course there was still some paperwork to be done before they would hand over the keys, so I followed my driver into the dealership to meet the people I had been talking to at the dealership. Unfortunately they were a little involved with other customers, but they greeted me and pointed me in the direction of the coffee pot.

Since I finished the last cup of coffee, I made a fresh pot without thinking about it. At this point one of the women from the dealership walked in and did a double take. Apparently she had never seen a customer make coffee before. As soon as we started talking my “accent” gave me away as the crazy Canuck. My reputation had apparently proceeded me.

While I was waiting I went back out to look at the bike. Hmmm... noticed an extra ring inside the rotor – I didn't just have a 2008 VFR, I had a 2008 VFR with ABS. One of those expensive options that I would not have considered because of the cost. This really made my day!

I have always loved the look of the VFR, and the dark silvery grey really suits the bike in my opinion.

The first shot of the odometer. A great start!

The start of a new adventure

A few more gratuitous bike shots. A shiny new bike in flawless condition.

Taking care of the paperwork at the dealership took longer than anticipated. Things like this always do though. Finally I had all the paperwork in hand, borrowed a fax machine to send a few pieces ahead to the US government so I would be able to export the bike, and then strapped my luggage onto the bike in preparation for the first trip.

I had to find room inside my luggage for a sweet Charlotte Honda T-shirt that L.T. gave me. That shirt makes quite the souvenir of the trip! Thanks guys!

At the dealership with the guys at Charlotte Honda who had made this purchase possible T. And L.T.

Finally, I was on the road. I sent a couple of quick text messages to let people know that I was on the road, got directions for the highway, and started the adventure.

It is always a bit of a disconcerting feeling to get on a bike and ride it for the first time. Especially when the bike starts out without any previous mileage on the odometer. I eased out the clutch and smoothly rolled the bike out on the road, getting the feel of it.

The bike felt very confident underneath me. It took me a few minutes to figure out where the left hand signal wasn't – my previous bike the BMW F800S had a very different arrangement for signals and signal cancel. On the BMW the left hand signal was where the horn was on the VFR, the right hand signal was were the starter switch was on the VFR, and the signal cancel was where the hazard flashers was on the VFR. I have to admit that I honked the horn a couple of times to alert drivers that I was about to turn on my left signal light as I started to get used to the bike. I also left my signals flashing as I headed down the road a few times because I had been spoiled by the BMW automatic signal cancel feature. I'm not going to get into a detailed discussion of bike differences here, but will post up a detailed comparison of the two after I finish this series of ride reports. It is very interesting that the BMW F800S/ST is considered the closest competitor to the VFR, and the two have been put side by side in magazine shootouts. But I think I might have an edge on the reviewers in terms of length of ride.

Heading down the road I took it fairly easy, aware that I was breaking in a new engine. I tried to vary the speed a little, and after I had been on the road for a while I checked out some of the higher speeds. The VFR feels very good running over 100 MPH. A little too good. Reluctantly I eased off the throttle and continued to ride at a pace that would not attract unwanted attention. Even though I was on a well traveled four lane road, it was pleasant to ride. The road was surrounded by a corridor of green. Gentle curves unfolded as I took in the south, realizing how very different it was from the cooler fall colours I had left behind the previous day.

I stopped a few times to check out the manual GPS to verify my route, and headed for the Blue Ridge Parkway. This is a road that I have heard mentioned many times in the past, and had seen a lot of photos of, including the iconic image of the summit. (Of course, it needs the bike in the shot to be complete!).

Initially I started riding north along the Parkway, but soon realized my error and turned around. It gave me an opportunity to check out a little more of the road, but I was running late enough that I thought it best to stick to the planned itinerary.

The Parkway was gorgeous. I was struck by how incredibly green everything still was. I had left a city where most leaves had already turned brilliant fall colours and had fallen off trees, to come to an area that was still really green with a lot of flowers flourishing in summer conditions. The mountains weren't quite what I was used to – my mountains are sharp jagged rocky peaks topped with snow, these were gentle rounded hills covered in green foliage, fading off into the background. Photos probably do a better job of telling the tale.

The Parkway was a great ride, reasonably quiet, but was very windy at the top. When I got off at the summit to shoot a few photos the wind was pushing me around. Despite that the bike felt very confident and grounded. In some ways it felt shorter and less “tippy” that the F800, giving me a lot more confidence going into the corners. It was official. The VFR was the right choice.

I didn't stop very often on the Parkway to pull out the camera. This pullout was at “Graveyard Fields”, a popular spot with hikers. At one point a strong windstorm had uprooted the spruce forest leaving jagged stumps covered in verdant moss giving the impression of an old graveyard to imaginative visitors. The name stuck. Today Graveyard Fields is quite different, having experienced several significant fires which have completely reinvented the landscape once again.

After riding the Parkway, I continued on my planned route. I stopped to top up the gas, and to take a few short stretch breaks. I was cognizant that I was running a little late on time because the bike pickup had taken longer than anticipated, and I actually had a planned destination to spend the night. This is actually very unusual for any of my trips.

As the sun began to set I paused in Asheville to send a text message to let Skuuter, Mahawk and Nomo know that I was going to be running a little late for dinner. Nomo strongly suggested that I might want to just stop for the night where I was, rather than push on through twisty roads in evening conditions. I felt pretty good about riding, and well rested, so I opted to continue to ride. I told him that I might decide to do that in a while, but for now they ought to expect me to arrive in Tellico Plains in a couple of hours.

At one point I noticed a cop behind me, flashing red and blues contrasting with the dark forest at the side of the roadway and the starlit sky above. I quickly glanced at my speedometer and realized that he had a different agenda. He passed me and continued on his silent mission.

A little later I stopped in Murphy for gas, and a couple of locals suggested that rather than ride to Ducktown and head north I could cut some distance by taking the Hiwasee Dam Road. So I struck off down some more twisties, glad that the VFR had strong headlights. At times I wished the headlights, however, were a little wider, as I was entering turns and couldn't see the exit until I had traveled partway around them. I rode a steady controlled pace, paying attention to the road kill and watching for Bambi's friends and associates.

I amused a few of the locals at the gas station when I took out my camera for this photo. I knew that Marid2aptrbilt lived in the Murphy area, although he was not going to be in town because I hadn't given him enough notice of the trip. So, this photo is a stand in for one of the riders that I thought I was not going to meet on this trip.

Eventually the road lead to Tellico Plains. However I had failed to get further directions as to what to do when I arrived there. So I pulled out the phone and sent a text message. “I'm in Tellico Plains. Where are you?”.

A few minutes later my phone chimed with a response. “You passed us 2 miles ago.”

Hmmm.... apparently I had been having too much fun on the road if I had missed seeing other bikes. I got directions, “Head back the way you came 2 miles, and turn into Hunts motorcycle resort. It has a gravel driveway. I will stand by the road waving a flashlight.”

That sounded promising, so I got back on the bike and headed the way I came. Just a little over one mile and I caught a glimpse of a flashing light, but it wasn't quite by the road. Cognizant of the note that the driveway was gravel, and the fact I had traffic behind me, I pulled on the shoulder and slowed down rather than try to take a gravel filled turn blindly at the last minute going too fast. I waited for the traffic behind me to clear, pulled a U-turn, and headed up the gravel driveway. I parked the bike glad to call it a day after an inaugural ride of 300 miles (450 km).

I greeted Nomo who I hadn't seen since July when he had flown out and joined a group of riders at the Grand Canyon, and finally met the infamous Skuuter in person. Mahawk had been sensible enough to have already gone to bed. Skuuter told me that they had been sitting up at the cabin when they heard the classic note of a VFR exhaust go past, which is how they had recognized me.

The guys were very thoughtful and had a turkey sandwich and a large bottle of water waiting for me. They thought that I might have skipped dinner. Hmmm.... apparently they know me well enough. After visiting for a while, we made our plans for the morning and called it a night.

The cabins at Hunts were small but very comfortable. I was impressed by how much thought the owners had put into the small things. Heavy weight hangers that would handle the weight of an armoured jacket. Shelves that seemed built to store helmets. Glove and boot warmers. A stack of towels. Even some motorcycling magazines. I was sharing a cabin with Nomo, and while small it was very comfortable. The one we stayed in slept three, one single bed and one bed with a bunk. Outside a covered overhang provided bike parking right outside. I opted to leave my bike where I had initially parked when I pulled in, reasoning that nobody was going to bother it.

Stay tuned for the next installment when I am introduced to some of the more famous riding routes in the area...

[turtlecreek]

NICE write up! i am enjoying our your trip!

[vfr_steve]

REALLY enjoying this trip - I can't think of a better way to get to know your new motorcycle, she looks GORGEOUS in gun metal :fing02:

[cruzinaz]

Hang on guys and gals, this young lady has serious talent when it comes to writing and photography

Shes not half bad ta ride with either :laughing6-hehe: sorry O, had to :biggrin:

[Olive]

Gee... Thanks Cruz. Glad to know I can always count on you... :comp13:

[Carvin]

Gee... Thanks Cruz. Glad to know I can always count on you... :comp13:

Nice bike and thanks for posting your adventures. I also bought a VFR800 from Charlotte Honda this year. Great service and the prices vs. Canada can't be beat!

Cheers.

[skuuter]

..."infamous skuuter"..... :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: ....."anyway", Great Stuff Olive...and cruzinaz is right (AMAZING Buddy, I'm impressed... :biggrin: ).....IT WILL ONLY GET BETTER.....waitin' Girl..... :fing02:

[Olive]

Part 3 - Riding the Dragon, the Cherahola and Beyond

As the sun came up I woke up in a small cabin at Hunt's Motorcycle Resort. It seemed odd to realize that just over a week before the trip had only been an idea, albeit a good one. Things had certainly come together quickly.

Skuuter and his better half, Mahawk were already up, and had made coffee. (Or perhaps we should say that Skuuter *tried* to make coffee... but that tale is his to relate.) A great start to the day. After a quick shower we discussed breakfast options and headed out to pack up the bikes. I had a lot of gear that needed to be re-secured to the bike.

Skuuter beat me to my bike and showed some real southern hospitality by wiping down the morning dew. Or so he claimed. Perhaps he was secretly coveting the shiny new sixth gen. Just look at the glint in his eye...

Mahawk kept a very careful eye on him. She knows his tendency to impulse buy new bikes the way other people might casually pick up a chocolate bar at the till.

I reloaded the luggage, trying something a little different. Skuuter had a good idea about putting it on the bike reversed – it worked out much better. We struggled to get the seat to clip over the straps. Finally we were almost ready to get moving. The sound of a bike from the highway below caught our attention and to our amusement we saw a huge American Flag flying behind the bike. A few minutes later we caught up to the bike in Tellico where we stopped for breakfast. I can only imagine how much the paint job on this bike must have cost the owner.

One thing that I discovered about the southern states is that they seem to have a problem with my money. It wasn't a case of me trying to pass off the funny coloured Canadian currency either. Skuuter insisted on buying me breakfast. Awfully sweet of him.

After visiting over breakfast we headed out to check out Deals Gap. The roads heading towards 129 were a lot of fun in the daylight – a lot better than the previous night. Lots of confidence building curves, one leading to the next in a smooth sweeping pattern. We stopped at the Harley Davidson store to gas up.

Nomo seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, he didn't even get off the bike.

Our next stop was the famous overlook. A lot of bikes were parked, and I took the same photos that a few million other people had before me on their Deals Gap pilgrimage.

For some reason Skuuter parked a little off to the side...

After Skuuter gave me a detailed warning about the road ahead, outlining sharp hairpin turns, sudden elevation changes, decreasing radius and off camber turns in combination ahead, we set off.

As I rode through the Gap, I kept on waiting for one of the really ugly corners that Skuuter had warned me about. There were a few off camber turns and decreasing radius, but I had found some scarier curves earlier in the year when I had ridden the tip of the Californian coastline. Unfortunately time only permitted one trip through the Gap, but it certainly is a road to experience. We arrived without incident, if you don't count Nomo's peg feeler.

Arriving up at the store, we parked and took some more touristy photographs. There was a small lineup for access to the Gap signs.

This is the classic reaction of a rider when asked "Hey Nomo! Any reason why you're not riding a VFR yet?" Yes, he is on a Versys, but falls in the category of "future VFR owner"... We are surrounding him and slowly converting him to the "dark side".

Of course, everyone has heard about the “Tree of Shame”, an honour they aspire to avoid.

Lots of bikes were parked at the popular resort.

A small “service bay” provided basic facilities for those who needed to work on their bikes.

I found this Dragon perched on a roof. The lighting provided for a very dramatic shot.

Finally, we were ready to head onwards to the Cherahola Skyway. I took off first, and made the grievous error of trying to exit out the banked hill we had come out on. I compounded the error by taking it at a bad angle, and then stopped my bike on the hill.

There is a very ugly feeling that every rider encounters at least once in their life. It's certainly not a feeling that you want to have when your bike is less than 24 hours old. It's the realization that the ground drops further away under your foot than you had thought, and you don't have any way to keep the bike up as you start tipping over. I tried to hold the bike, but the laws of physics insisted that gravity had the upper hand. Remembering a similar situation in 2009 when I had put the peg of the kickstand from my BMW F800S into my Sidi breaking my toe in the process, I retracted my foot into safer territory and hit the pavement. I tried to keep my helmet up, but I hit hard enough that it bounced off the ground. I felt myself and the bike slide slightly down the hill.

Apparently I had chosen the same location where thousands before me had performed a similar feat in obedience of gravity, and was immediately surrounded by other riders who gave me a hand picking up the bike. I think the sudden outburst of foul language as I realized that something bad was happening helped attract their attention. Unfortunately it was a little too late to keep the event from happening.

I cringed as I looked at the fresh scrapes on the fairings. This was not a great start to the day. At least my clutch lever hadn't broken off, but it had been tweaked a little. The guys surrounding me helped support the bike as I got back on it and rode down off the hill to a safer spot to stop. Of course I immediately realized that there was a very dark irony in the fact that a week earlier I had checked into Radar's frame sliders, and decided that drilling the fairings and modifying the coolant bottle were tasks that were not appropriate while on a trip.

I guess the bike, less than 24 hours old, was now broken in.

Nomo took the lead and showed me the easy exit that I should have taken, and we headed down the Cherahola Skyway without further incident. We stopped at the dam to take a few more photos.

Quite a few of the scenic lookouts were overgrown with vegetation. We rode for a while and then departed ways with Skuuter and Mahawk. Nomo and myself headed for Atlanta while Skuuter and his wife stayed in the area, with plans to meet up for a group ride the next day.

Our route continued south through some very pretty scenery, and then the outlying communities of Atlanta. Nomo dropped me at the entrance of Joker's driveway. Joker commented that my bike looked awfully familiar – his garage already housed a dark grey 2008 VFR that was the twin to mine. Unfortunately mine had some fresh identifying marks on the side.

My bike was nearing the 600 mile/1000 km marker, and it was time for an oil change. We picked up oil and a filter, and I got oil all over Joker's clean garage floor. Pulling the fairings off wasn't too difficult once I got the hang of the little plastic clips. They were designed a lot better than the clips on my old Suzuki GS500 had been. Getting the filter off, however, was a very different matter. It was mounted in a location that made it impossible to get a filter wrench around it, and all we managed to do with vice grips was dent the filter. Finally we resorted to the traditional solution of driving a screwdriver through the filter and cranking it off that way. The new filter we installed was a K&N with a nut on the end, so it should be easier to remove.

Next on the list was installing a wiring harness that would hook up to my heated gear. A simple process of removing the leads from the battery, dropping one of the nuts in the cavity underneath the battery, removing the battery from the bike to get at it, and then putting everything back together. In short, the way that these things always seem to go.

That evening I had a great visit with Joker, his wife, his dogs and horses. It was unfortunate that the next day he had to fly out for work and would not be able to join the group for a ride.

Stay tuned for the next installment when I meet up with a larger group including a few more folk from VFRD.

[Joker]

Captivating story Olive !!

It's nicely written and the superb photography is a bonus.

It was an honor to have you as a guest along your way.

Looking forward to seeing more.

[cruzinaz]

Gee... Thanks Cruz. Glad to know I can always count on you... :comp13:

Thats what friends are for right? :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe: :laughing6-hehe:

I know you would do same for me :biggrin: :biggrin: :biggrin:

[skuuter]

As soon as we started talking my “accent” gave me away as the crazy Canuck. My reputation had apparently proceeded me.

I see/hear that you must have brought your 'eh' game..... :tour:

I wondered if you were a writer too; but then I realized, you must be Olive, the OTHER reindeer :3: :rolleyes: :tongue:

Greg :fing02:

Ps Lots of fun to read!

Yeah, Olive has some kinda' accent......I'm glad we don't have one down here in Tennessee, "eh"............. :laughing6-hehe:

[Olive]

A Planned Group Ride

I woke up in a small bedroom in Joker’s house and took a shower in the adjacent bathroom. Quietly I headed down the stairs trying not to wake up the dogs. They heard me moving around and made a bit of a fuss, but it didn’t seem that they had aroused the rest of the house. Heading into the kitchen I turned on the coffee that Joker had set up the night before.

The discussion about coffee the previous night had been somewhat entertaining. Reaching into the freezer Joker promised me a real treat for coffee the next morning. Vanilla nut. Hmmm… not really a great idea for a woman with nut allergies. Rooting around in the freezer the other nut flavoured coffees were discarded as alternatives, and Joker dolefully produced an option. He apologized that it wasn’t really that good – but I assured him that any coffee was just fine for me.

I sat down in the pre-dawn light in the living room with a cup of fresh coffee. It really was much better than Joker had made it out to be. I heard a quiet creak as Joker and the dogs padded out from the bedroom. The quiet voice greeting him from the living room gave him a bit of a start – I think he expected to be the first person up in the house. Apparently the dogs hadn’t disturbed him earlier, although they were very excited to greet the guest in the house.

He joined me with a cup of coffee, and then busied himself in the kitchen making his trademark scrambled eggs. I can’t share his secret recipe here… if I did, it would have dire consequences… it would cease to be secret and people everywhere would be eating a better class of scrambled egg. It is well worth being a guest in the Joker domicile to be greeted with this sight in the morning.

We visited a bit with Mrs. Joker, and then Nomo showed up just in time for a cup of java. I headed upstairs to gather up my luggage.

The guys helped me haul my gear out to the bike where we proved that four grown people could be bested by the seat of a Honda VFR and the straps from soft luggage. The suggestion was made to toss the luggage, and while it had some appeal, I figured that I might need the tent in a few days, so we persevered and finally the seat clicked into place.

With a warm hug Joker sent me on my way, and I followed Nomo’s Versys down the quiet streets of Canton in search of an elusive gas station.

I have to admit that I am very jealous of riders who live in the greater Atlanta area. Even some of the feeder roads heading north towards the mountains are a lot of fun to ride. They are tree lined, full of curves, and the pavement is in excellent shape.

While I consider myself fortunate to have mountains less than an hour west of me, getting there involves a bit of slab, and a surfeit of curves in comparison to what the south east has to offer, even if I take the entertaining route. This year the roads in town have also left a little to be desired, with a lot of pot holes still dotting the roadways from last winter. These aren’t just regular potholes either. These are potholes that have a “forget spell” cast upon them. There is one less than a mile from my house that I manage to rim every single time as I come around a curve and am surprised to find it right smack in front of my wheel, despite having reminded myself to watch for it as I pulled onto the road less than five minutes earlier. It can make for some entertaining riding at times – but not my preferred type of entertainment.

So far on the trip I hadn’t seen a single pothole. I hadn’t seen a single suicidal deer leap onto the road in front of me. Nor had any cages made an attempt on my life. Instead they had courteously pulled over and waved me past. I was beginning to wonder if the trip was real or just a figment of my imagination. But I continued to watch for the appearance of a teeth jarring pothole jumping out on me.

We continued down the tree lined roads, the sunlight dappled as it came through the green leaves. Once in a while we passed another vehicle, and occasionally we were held up behind someone driving just under the posted speed limit. After a while we pulled up at Riders Hill, greeted by the rest of the group who had been waiting for us to arrive.

Parking the bike I met a number of people that I had gotten to know on the forum. They had all turned out to show me the best roads north of Atlanta.

Strap and Blesk both own VFRs, but Strap discovered a problem with his that morning when he started it up. So after a brief discussion he rode Blesk’s VFR and she rode her SV.

Mahawk, Skuuter, Troll, Blesk, Kurvlvr engage in the general banter that happens before any ride.

Same with Bottlerocket, Bandit and Nomo (more future VFR converts perhaps? The group already had more than a proportional share of VFRs.)

Blesk

Strap

Skuuter

The Bikes

As we debated the route to take, we heard the telltale note of another VFR pulling up. Daisy had made it down to join the group. Since he had proposed one of the routes we nominated him as lead, and set Skuuter up as sweep.

We took off from Riders Hill and headed out for the curves. I really like the roads in this area, the curves sweep side to side and you get into an easy rhythm. It’s why my tires were run right to the edges on the very first day – something that I never do with tires. These roads really built confidence the way they were banked, and it felt very comfortable. The VFR also felt very confident and grounded underneath me. I really was enjoying the ride.

We headed on for a while, and a very enthusiastic rider came the opposite way waving. We all waved back. He had a red Versys, and his gear looked a lot like Nomo. Oh wait… it WAS Nomo. He had to head back to town a bit early, but had joined us for part of the run.

We continued onwards, our stalwart group reduced by one.

The next two to drop off were Skuut and Mahawk on their big yellow trike – they had to return to Estill Springs. Something about work. We admonished them for using the “w” word. Such nasty language! I probably shouldn’t even use it on a family friendly forum like this one.

Down by three, we continued riding towards lunch. We paused at a corner, and continued up the road. I waited for a moment but decided to follow. Blesk and Strap had dropped off a bit behind, but I figured since Daisy had looked like he had taken a head count, and both Blesk and Strap were local that they knew where we were going.

We pulled into a parking lot, and asked where they were. Oops! Apparently they didn’t know where we were going – Daisy leapt onto his bike and headed back out to track them down. We were only supposed to be down three riders, not five.

Shortly Daisy returned with the other two in tow. A few people were complaining about the cold. I was bemused by this – not considering the morning temperatures cold by any stretch of the imagination. I offered up some extra warm clothing if anyone needed it, but everyone decided that they were fine… just interested in heading out for lunch.

After checking out the menu Bandit suggested that we might want to head elsewhere for lunch, as the small place we had stopped was a little on the pricey side. Gearing up, we headed for Blairsville.

Sunday lunch was busy, but they managed to find a table to seat ten with very little waiting. We visited over the meal, and shared stories like old friends. BottleRocket and Kurvlvr went their own way after lunch, leaving our reduced group of six – Daisy, Blesk, Strap, Bandit, Troll and myself.

After lunch we headed out for more curves, and headed for Blood Mountain. More wonderful curves, some elevation changes and a lot of cars that were polite enough to pull over to let the bikes head past.

As we rode I kept on waiting to see the mountains. In the south east they have a very different definition of mountain – I am very accustomed to the majestic, snow capped jagged peaks of the Canadian Mountains. In the south the mountains are a little older, rounded by erosion and completely covered in fresh green growth. One of those things on a trip that reminds you that while a lot of things feel the same, you are definitely a little ways away from home.

We pulled off on an overlook to take a few photos.

It took me a few minute to convince people that I wanted a clear shot of the bikes... and just the bikes...

A little further along we parked at a popular stop at the top of the Appalachian Trail.

Troll and Bandit pulled out their cameras

Their photos probably looked a lot like mine at the scenic overlook.

Troll, Daisy and Bandit

Blesk and Strap surprised me by buying me a T-shirt. A very cool black shirt featuring bikes silhouetted against a brilliant sunset. Very thoughtful of them, and definitely a design that I will get a lot of wear out of.

While we were parked at Blood Mountain, Daisy and Blesk insisted that I check out the seats on their VFRs. One was a Corbin, and the other a Sargent. They were both betting that I would be replacing the stock seat on my bike in short order. I actually found the stock seat to be more comfortable than the other two based on checking them out briefly. The stock seat seemed a bit narrower and more comfortable when I had my feet down. I was coming from the F800S that had a very narrow seat/tank in comparison to the VFR I was now riding. The stock seat on the VFR, based on three days of riding, also seemed a little more comfortable than the stock seat on the F800. Something I had noticed during my long ride this summer was that the seat on the BMW didn't seem as comfortable after a long day ride as it had when the bike was new. Apparently the seat does start to wear in and lose some of its support over time. Given the amount of riding I did on the F800, it probably should come as little surprise.

Quite honestly, I think the first thing that will be replaced on the VFR will be the brake and clutch levers. I have found that the BMW was much easier to ride after I had put on a set of Pazzos because I didn't have to reach as far. Since I have small hands, it really does make a difference to the ride for me.

Our next stop was back at Riders Hill where we bid farewell to Bandit and Troll. I headed back with the rest of the group to Blesk’s house where I was going to spend the night.

Arriving at Blesk’s we found two more VFRs parked in the driveway. One was Strap’s and the other shiny red one belonged to Wrestler. He had been unable to join us for the group ride. He explained that playing hooky on a Sunday morning could cost him his job. While he couldn't ride with the group, it was great that he had been able to join us for a visit over dinner.

Wrestler sitting outside on Daisy’s bike, checking out Daisy’s new camera.

It looked like a VFR convention. Bikes belonging to Daisy, Wrestler, Strap, Blesk and Olive.

We headed inside, where I was introduced to Blesk’s oldest son, and Blesk started preparations for dinner.

Daisy proved himself adept in the kitchen, but while the food was cooking he busied himself tormenting Kafka.

Strap watches Daisy and Blesk wash up after a very successful dinner.

After another evening visit, I was shown to my bedroom for the night. Blesk had thoughtfully arranged the bed with fresh towels, and a small bag of toiletries topped off with a ribbon. This was guarded by a large stuffed ape that sat at the head of the bed. Unfortunately I had put my camera away for the evening, so your imagination will have to suffice.

…stay tuned for the next installment when two girls on VFRs head for the curves of Suches…