NOSTALGA

Blue Ridge Motorcycle Campground I rushed around yesterday completing the final arrangements for a special birthday present for a best friend. Finally, at 5:30PM, I saddled up the motorcycle and headed up to the Blue Ridge Campground to share some time with my friend Ed. Ed had arrived that morning and spent the whole day catching up on his book reading. A very likable guy; he was talking to two total strangers in front of his tent when I arrived at just before dark. The Blue Ridge Parkway has been a favorite road for me through the years. It winds through pristine mountains and forests and serves as a connection to the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. It is a fascinating ride on a motorcycle. I consider it an adventure to ride it from one end to the other. The extreme North end butts up against the Southern entrance of Skyline Drive. Skyline Drive meanders through the Shenandoah National Park and ends at it's Northern entrance located in Front Royal, Virginia. A marvelous ride on two wheels indeed! To drive through the Smokey Mountain National Park, however, has proven to be less than enjoyable over the past ten to fifteen years. The tourist traffic is next to bumper to bumper. It would appear that no one stops to see anything. Route 441 through the park provides spectacular scenery but is constantly clogged with cars. No one stops as they are afraid of losing their position on the road. It's humerus at times. The steep ascending two lane road also connects the town of Townsend with the Indian reservation, Cherokee, in North Carolina. Gatlinburg is another tourist trap along the way. An endless funeral procession of tourists pour over 441 heading to the aforementioned places in search of--well, I'm not sure. Famous stop offs like Cades Cove and the Chimneys are passed by. Years ago; in the 70's, traffic was sparse and the park was more enjoyable. These days I find myself looking for ways to avoid driving through the park to get somewhere. That is pretty sad. I guess Tennessee advertises for tourists and the tourists delivered. And the agencies want more tourists. Oh well! Ed and I got up early and drove the necessary 20 miles for breakfast and decided to visit the Wheels of Time museum. I have been stopping here for years to see the motorcycles from the past. It is a wonderful collection of every conceivable American motorcycle. I have included a very few photo's in this blog. We discovered that the curator of the Museum is moving the collection to the Four Corners area of Arizona. This is a tragic loss. We, I, take things for granted many times and the thought of losing this magnificent collection of motorcycles is impossible to comprehend. I just thought it would always be there. But it will happen in November this year. So todays visit was special. I looked at each piece in the museum and drank it in; no, absorbed the detail. I may never lay eyes on these creations again. I have many photos at home, but these few below are from today's visit. Dale, the owner/curator, even did a burnout on a antique bike for the crowd; inside the museum. Amazing! I started the motorcycle in the parking lot and put it into gear. I raised my head toward the museum one last time and allowed my eyes to drink in every detail. Then let the clutch out and pull away, not looking back. Once on the road I drove 30 miles per hour, as if reluctant to leave. The Wheels of Time will be missed. But then, nothing is forever..... I arrived just before sundown and Ed had been there since before noon. He's hard to get ahead of. Home Sweet Home at the Blue Ridge Motorcycle Campground This museum contains the finest collection of old motorcycles on the planet. This is Shilo; the museum owner's dog. This is not a painting. It is a real, ancient motorcycle on a bench as it might appear during pre-WWI This is a depiction of what the motorcycle shops were like in my day and before. Practical and totally mechanically oriented Crocker tank and instruments The Crocker. A motorcycle that will out power the newest twin cam 88 Harley Davidson and its over 78 years old The owner of the museum doing a burn out inside his museum on a ancient Crocker motorcycle A 1916 Traub. This is the bike the poster speaks of from previous picture Marlin Brando poster. From the movie The Wild One. It really started this whole motorcycle mystique Shilo and Tater. Hound and Wimeranger Ah; back on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Cool and beautiful

NIGHT FALL ON WATER

Ah; night on the lake. The finest sunsets I have ever seen have occurred on these Tennessee Lakes. There is nothing finer than to sit back in a small boat in the center of a lake, get comfortable and just feel the soft evening breeze fan your face and stare at the skyline through squinted eyes and allow yourself to be absorbed into the spectacle that nature is providing. The gentle rolling of the water causes the smaller boats to softly, slowly move left and right. It's almost an imperceptible occurrence. The sun changes from the furnace of day to a red glow surrounded by yellow and orange, the light diffused by the atmosphere which creates a soft violet hallo around the entire vision. And somehow the water becomes totally still; silent; quiet; then dark and mysterious; sometimes ominous; surreal; unrecognizable and unfamiliar. The change can be stark! The sun drops quickly. It can create confusion. It can create miner panic in some and euphoria in others. Sunset on a Tennessee lake is the fanfare and orchestra at the end of a well written and executed play. And night is the final curtain of the show. But it's the best show ever choreographed and will be held over for eternity, and as many curtain falls. click photo's for enlargement Ah Hem!! I think we better go now. The night is coming.... Quick; Hurry home. Night is coming "Over here guys;" "Here's a great spot" Looking for a place to sleep Lava Water

CORRECTION TO AMAZING DAY POST (BELOW)

My reference to the masses of material I called frog's eggs or space brains is incorrect. I still think space creatures have something to do about it; but a reputable informant from TWRA has indicated to me the error of my way's. The proper terminology for the masses is (Bryozoans). For a complete explanation, see the link below: http://www.bio.umass.edu/biology/conn.river/bryozoa.html

AN AMAZING DAY

I hooked up the Gheenoe and headed for my favorite lake; Chilhowee Lake. More specific, Abrams Creek. I had heard there were Bald Eagles nesting there and I had to go have a see. I didn't take Douglas this run because I would be on the boat for extended periods of time and he likes to get onto the islands and run. I will pick him up on the way home and he and I will go out together. Today I was looking for wildlife. I floated up to what appeared to be frog eggs clustered around fallen snags under water. These clusters are enormous. I will ask some TWRA friends and experts about these masses. I hope one can get an idea of the enormity of these clusters from the photo's. Wow! Going to be a lot of frogs around here. A floating leaf with damsel flies. What are they doing? Breeding? I'm not sure. Their needle like abdomens appear to be skured into the leaf; and into each other for that matter. Each one appears to be a slender little natural stick pin. They are nature's jewelry. They are floating on a natural raft leading to nowhere. Then the payoff. Around a bend and high in a tree sits a Bald Eagle. An adult. An old adult. The quiet motor on the slender Green boat did not awaken it. The eagle's head was turned down and the beak was nestled behind the shoulder of its wing. I clicked off pictures as fast as I could focus, which was no small task on a rocking boat. My little boat drifted ever slowly closer and closer to the tree the eagle was perched in. I was ready to capture it's wings outspread when it would finally fly away. I was set. I was ready. The camera was refocused. Any split second now and I would have the photo's of a life time. My heart was beating harder. Just then a loud roaring engine sound came up behind me. A jet ski. A damn jet ski. For beloved Christ's sake. A damn jet ski. I stood and waved my hands for the abomination to stay put and stop the engine. The idiot came strait towards me, at least slower than when he appeared. The rectal tissue brained idiot came right up beside my boat. The eagle was gone. I caught a view of it as it unfolded it's wings after dropping down from the perch in preparation for the first or second wing beats that would carry it up to the limitless sky's..I took a snap shot as it approached. The moment was ruined. I looked at the moron who now knew what he had caused. "Lot's more hawks around to take pictures of man." I mentioned nothing accept "back away from my boat please." I Started my engine and slowly pulled away. I was without words. He couldn't even leave gracefully. He turned his contraption around and gunned it. I got a picture of the smoke from his departure. Crude idiot!!! These jet ski; these obnoxious, noisy, nuisances are a plague to the wilderness experience. They are the crotch rockets on the water. They are a totally useless water craft. Noise, high wakes, bad manners, kids driving them with kid's mentality. I hate them. And why would anyone want to blast a jet ski into this pristine place? The whole damn lake and he has to bring his crappy, noise maker with his loud header system and all his blue two stroke smoke clear up here to the mouth of Abrams Creek. Those people build mansions on the main lake but they don't want to drive their boats there. Too busy on the water. So they come out here. Should be a law to keep the damn jet ski's in certain portions of the lake. Put em all together in one big fenced in spot. Maybe they'd all----------oh well. My attitude toward jet ski's is a learned one. I wasn't born with it. I have never once seen a jet ski operated in a responsible fashion. Not once. All I remember is noise, irresponsible behavior and lack of respect for anyone Else's space. Sorry. Not over generalizing here. Not once I said. So anyway. I got some fair shot's of the eagle. Not great. But pretty good. don't forget to click the image to enlarge Here is a link that will explain what I call "space brains" really are: http://www.bio.umass.edu/biology/conn.river/bryozoa.html