Rainy Night (& Day) in Georgia...

25th February

Rain. Bugger. A heavy drizzle is falling so, after an excellent (& complimentary ) breakfast, I load the bike and set off, deciding to head South, in the hope of it at least getting a bit warmer… Before I leave the room, I notice a sign by the sprinkler in the ceiling – I wonder what caused them to put that up there…



I use the GPS as a compass and, by-passing Atlanta, get off the Interstate as soon as I can and start heading down some back roads. In the attractivly named town of Locust Grove, I see the owner of the local ‘mini-warehouse’ complex has used a T33 to advertise the fact.



On the way out of town, it’s clear that the aviation theme is a strong one in this line of business…



Stopped to get my bearings, I indulge in a little train-spotting .



This train is enormous – I didn’t bother counting the number of trucks it was towing, but it must’ve been over 100.



The load was nearly all containers – some stacked 2 high – this part of the world obviously doesn’t have low bridges or tunnels…

After 125 miles or so, I’m cold, tired and wet (only on the outside, though – all my waterproofs are doing fine ). As is my habit, I ignore the line of MacDonalds, Taco Bells & KFCs when I enter the town of Jackson, and instead, decide to try the Lunch Box.



As I walk in, the elderly waitress asks what I want – quite abruptly. I said I wanted lunch – she pointed at the only vacant table :

‘You can sit there – what do you want to drink?’

‘Coffee please, black’

‘We don’t have coffee, we don’t open for breakfast’ confused: )

‘OK, what hot drinks do you have?’

‘Nothing’

‘Do you have soup’

’Just sold out’ (It’s two minutes past midday )

‘Can I see the menu, please’

She brings me a menu and immediately asks if I know what I want to order – I haven’t opened it yet. I ask for a minute and she returns 5 seconds later. I order the special, which was neither special, nor memorable, as I cannot recall what it was, other than bland.

The whole time I was eating, 3 men at the table opposite me (dressed in the southern uniform of jeans, plaid shirt and baseball caps, to co-ordinate with the goatee and pony-tail theme their barber’s had chosen for them) stared wordlessly at me. I quickly ate my lunch, paid my bill & departed. Quite what I’d done to provoke this kind of hostility I don’t know, but Jackson, Georgia, is off my re-visit list…

I press South and, fed up with the continuous rain, find succour in the shape of the Best Western Riverside Inn at Macon, a city I know absolutely nothing about. Hot shower, king size bed, Chinese restaurant next door – what more do I need to know…

26th February

It had rained hard all night. I came out to the bike to find that my attempts to make the left pannier waterproof had been a complete failure- there was at least half a pint of water in it. Great. I dry it out, pack the bike and set off towards Florida. It’s raining intermittently, just enough to keep the roads wet and ensure that there’s spray from the trucks. I decide to get off the Interstate and, for a moment, consider applying for a job…



…but decide against it – they’ve probably got enough dancers. I ride heading South East, on small back roads. The rain’s cleared up now, but it’s damned cold. I don’t pass any banks (they usually have big digital clocks & thermometers displayed outside), so I don’t know what the temperature is, but I’m not comfortable. I resolve once again to sort out a new heated jacket at Daytona next week. Jeff has arranged to get a partial service done on my bike next Tuesday at the BMW dealer in Daytona. The plan is to get them to do the difficult bits (fuel filter replacement, Motronic check etc) whilst Andrew, Jeff and I do the relatively easy bits (filters, oil change, valve adjustment etc) Andrew has recommended a tyre dealer in Orlando to fit the pair of tyres I’ve just ordered – so I’ll be re-visiting the scene of my ‘lane-splitting’ crime…

I stop for lunch (with some trepidation, after yesterday’s experience) at Marvel’s Family Restaurant, in the town of Broxton.



Things are quite different here. The young (and quite attractive) waitress Bonnie (is this the most common name or something??) takes my order and then asks where I’m from. I tell her, to which she replies ‘England, honey, howd yew end up heah? Yewer in the most back of beyaand hick town in the wirld!’ As I eat my excellent ‘all you can eat’ lunch of chicken, rice, black-eyed peas, turnip greens and gravy, I meet Mike and June Smith, who farm here. We have the standard conversation about what my plans are and what motorbike I’ve got. They’re good, friendly people – I tell them about my experience in Jackson the day before. They’re nonplussed by it. ‘Some towns just don’t like bikers – maybe that’s one of ‘em’ suggests June. June laughs when I tell them that I’m on my way to Bike Week at Daytona, ‘Just don’t go thinking that’s the way we all live’ – ‘No, but it’s the way we’d all like to!’ adds Mike.

Eventually it’s time to go, so I say my goodbyes and head South again. It’s not long before I’m feeling cold again, so I once again decide to make an early stop. I come into a town I vaguely recognise – it’s Waycross, I was here on the 8th February, heading North. I stop at the Pine Crest Motel again, but there’s a convention in town, and they’re fully booked. I ride up the road to the Days Inn and book in…

Okeefenokee...

27th February

Dry – Hurrah! Still cold though. I set off at about 0930 and make my way South towards Daytona. At Jeff’s suggestion, I stop off at Okefenokee State Park (great name, eh?) and have a tourist morning. Although it’s not raining, it’s a very dull day, so please accept my apologies, as the pics aren’t great…



Okefenokee (which means ‘Trembling Ground’ in Native American – a reference to the ‘islands’ of moss and peat which eventually become anchored by their roots and dry out to become land) covers half a million acres. For your $16 dollar entry fee, you get a half hour boat tour…



…guided by Rod, who’s a real character (seemed to know an awful lot about moonshine liquor … The water seems jet black and is spookily calm...



A train ride, where I met Esme and Sally – Esme used to live in Norwich before emigrating in 1958 – it turns out I used to live within a quarter of a mile of her old house! We got the engine driver to take a picture, but he apparently had the DTs



And, finally, an excellent talk about the wildlife in the area from Phil.



Phil is a Seminole Indian, whose Indian name is unpronounceable, but probably means ‘Lectures With Snakes’.

As an aside, Seminole means ‘Outcast’ and, as the name suggests, the tribe comprised of outcasts from various other tribes. Apparently they were the only tribe never to submit to removal to reservations and never signed a treaty – one day the government apparently just agreed to leave them to it…

Overall the visit was excellent (with the exception of the tinny, distorted rendering of ‘Swanny River’ over the loudspeakers on the train ) and, as has been my experience with all such parks the staff go out of their way to be helpful & informative. They also have some really good signs...



By 1300 I’m back on the road, heading South to Daytona. Far from improving, the weather seems to be getting colder. I go directly to the BMW dealer to pick up some service bits for the bike and see on the TV that people are stranded in snow in Georgia trying to get south for bike week!

I arrive at Jeff & Keri’s and, once again, test their laundry facilities to the point of destruction with the biohazard which is the content of my left pannier…