The Dragon’s Welcome. Day 7.

Thursday, May 7^th, 8ish AM

@ The Deal’s Gap Motorcycle Resort

~60’s with high wispy horse tails

178mi/ 1557mi

Wrapped up the parkway with more delicious curves and officially baptized myself and the journey by bathing in the Yellowstone Prong of the Pigeon River at Graveyard Fields, a popular family stop along the southern BRP.
Yes, the water was cold. 
But the sun was h o t.

Hidden Beach, BRP Style

Note of caution from the road: should you find yourself following a similar route, that is, exiting from the bottom of the BRP and heading west towards the Great Smoky Mountains, make efforts to avoid the town of Cherokee, unless you delight in the absurd exploitation of a people and culture in what is essentially a casino-centric, Indian-themed amusement park with stoplights and 20mph speed limits.

A wrong turn a few miles beyond Cherokee took me nearly two hours out of my way south along Route 28 when I was supposed to have been heading north to rendezvous with the famed “Tail of the Dragon”. Many people I had spoken to on the BRP who had also visited the Tail, said that Rt 28 (or Moonshine Road as it was known) was actually as good as, if not preferable to, the Tail. I’ll chalk that up to a happy accident.

Due to this self-imposed detour, I would arrive at the Tail as evening was falling and with a peaking hunger. Not having performed a lot of research on the area prior to the trip, I was pleasantly surprised to discover Deal’s Gap Motorcycle Resort, an old-school motor lodge with attached campground. Adding to the pleasantries was a large group of vintage two-stroke motorcycle enthusiasts who have been meeting at this location for the past several years annually and had rented out the entire grounds. To top the proverbial cake, the cherry came in the form of “Irons”, a genuine southern creole gentile, longtime club member, motorcycle restorer, and designated Cajun club cook. He saw me rolling in, late and tired, and read me like a book. I barely had my helmet off before he had a plate in my right hand, a beer in my left, and had extended an invitation to surf an available bunk in the sold-out venue.

The Two-stroke Lineup

The motor lodge and surrounding grounds were bustling with interesting people and good conversation. I had arrived just as a set of twin brothers were finishing the resurrection of an old green Yamaha from the tomb of a nearby farmer’s barn, where the bike had sat unused and forgotten for nearly 30 years. The bike was a donation, along with a mismatched engine that had been shelved some 10 years before the bike. Apparently the boys had been at it all day; to the astonishment and pleasure of the farmer and all in attendance, the bike with transplant engine made its return to service in a triumphant two-stroke-trumpeting promenade about the grounds.

This affirmation of life and glory was nearly tragically balanced by its opposite that evening. A rather excited driver in a pickup truck hurriedly pulled into the parking lot, window down, arm waving. There had been an accident on the Tail. With no cell service in the area, Deal’s Gap Resort had the nearest landline phone and it was imperative that 911 be called. Apparently a T-Rex (a compact, sporty, very low-slung, 3-wheeled motorcycle/car hybrid vehicle) had been involved in a head-on collision with a full-sized pickup truck a few miles past the main overlook. Everyone was reportedly alive, but later accounts told tales of severe vehicle entrapment complete with crushed legs and limbs.