No Mud, No Lotus
Okay, you guys. Today was one of the best. I’m here in Chattanooga, and I have no idea where I’m going tomorrow, and that’s fine.
Last night, I ended up talking with two brothers who were my camp neighbors. Brig, the younger, is a more city-faring guy, and Dave (“Big D”) the elder, a self-proclaimed red neck. Both live in North Carolina, and were making a week-long trip on their GS800’s. Is it just me or are people more genuine in the South? These kind-hearted 50-something brothers told me about the route they had planned today, to head south on 129, then head west on 143, and pickup the Cherohala Skyway, and then return to the Dragon on a northern route. Without a plan for today myself, I offered to join them, and then split off near Tellico Plains. It was a plan! Riding with others is a lesson in empathy for everyone involved, and generally I prefer to ride alone, but today I’m so glad I made the exception.
Even as I write this, as a picture will never capture the moment, I feel clumsy and monotone trying to describe the day. But something is better than nothing.
When you start to ride with someone new, it’s like a first date. You’re not quite sure how they’ll handle situations as they arise, and you’re sort of committed for at least some time. If you’re gracious with each other, you play a fun little tug-of-war of will-and-concede, each interaction moving the needle to either “hey, I dig this person” or “the nope zone.” When you’re riding, and you’re leading the group as I was, you feel like every twitch is being judged. Are you going too fast or slow, are you going to pass that truck, are they copying your lines?
We were supposed to make a right on 143 to connect with the Cherohala Skyway, but somehow we (I) completely missed it. We went about 20 miles farther on 129 than we needed to, and eventually, I pulled over and we regrouped. We could turn around and try to find it again. OR. We could take this shortcut that I found. Yes, let’s do that. It’s only 10-11 miles over the mountain and it looks fun!
“Hope it’s paved!”
Those were the last words I said to the boys as we laughed, pulled our visors down, and started the three-motorcycle train down the unknown path. I was following my GPS which took us right, left, right, through all kinds of really fun little back roads for a few miles. But then, as I glanced down at the “turn left 200 ft” on the little screen, I confirmed that yes, we were indeed supposed to turn left on what looked like little more than an overgrown fire road hooking up, disappearing into the trees.
“Fuuuuuuck”
That was the word I sighed to myself as I stood up on the pegs, bracing myself for a shifting pool of gravel that was to be Stormy’s path for the next 12 miles. This path made the Badlands of South Dakota almost look preferable, as we had the added element of significant grade. My front tire sloshed around in the dirt. I held on loose, using my body weight to counter balance the elephant trying to swim in the ocean that Stormy had become. I could feel the 1,000lbs under my feet, each turn making me ask the question, is this where it happens? As we descended the mountain, the front brake was useless, relying on engine braking and a feather-touch on the rear brake to guide me around the hairpins, with nothing over the berm but 100+ feet of misery straight down.
Stormy was out of her element, but we did it. Finally—FINALLY—the road opened up into tarmac, and I laughed hard, and let go of the handlebars making the same gesture you’d make when you finally summit a peak you’ve been hiking for hours. The absolute blissful feeling of flowing road under my tires, smooth, lovely, tight, precise, nothing but the mechanical purity of my engine and the wind at 50 mph, contrasting the abject chaos I had just experienced at 15 mph for the last hour or so. I pulled over, and the guys on their GS’s which were made for this sort of thing, pulled beside me. We pulled our helmets off to reveal the massive shit-eating grins on our faces. “Well, I hope you had fun, you sons-a-bitches.”
After another few miles, we met the Cherohala Skyway, which was about 30 miles of perfect road and scenic overlooks, as if the Blue Ridge Parkway and the Dragon had a baby. I was in a flow state. Each corner was perfect—I made no errors. I didn’t have to think about anything.
I was ahead of the brothers Harris, and after a few miles of having sex with the road, I would pull over and wait for the dirt-biased GS’s to catch up, and then we’d continue down. This gave me lots of time to think about the feeling of the road, and the feeling of the dirt. This is no new take on suffering—but it’s an awfully sensual and poignant one. These feelings need each other—the road and the dirt. One isn’t merely the absence of the other, they exist within each other.
Brig and I were talking about this concept over breakfast, but I had no idea what a foreshadowing it was. He referred to a book he was reading, “No Mud, No Lotus” by Thich Nhat Hanh. “Look at this piece of paper: you can’t remove the front side from the back side—they exist within each other. Looking into the lotus, you see the mud. Looking into the mud, you see the future lotus.” The same it is with suffering, and of course not only acute suffering, but the suffering you experience every day, the nagging, weight of decisions and regrets, seemingly irreconcilable, are not to be “gotten over,” but instead they are to be integrated. Absorb them, and realize that you exist within them. As mile after mile disappeared under me, I felt a stillness, I looked my past self in the eye, and instead of seeing a “lesser-than” version of myself, I saw joy.
Our trip culminated at an incredible waterfall, Bald River Falls, which emptied into the Tellico River. It was 100°F and muggy, and we were all happy and hungry. We retraced the river road back to the Cherohala Skyway, and headed into Tellico Plains, where we were met with the smell of meat on a BBQ, a primal signal to stop whatever the hell we were doing and pull in.
I’m tired, so I’m not going to describe our meal in any great detail. But if you’re in Tennessee within 3 hours of Tellico Plains, head over to Tellico Kats (although the owner said it’s going to be renamed soon). Seriously, just go there. Smoked meats, sweet tea, outdoor deck with a river view. Go. Just go there. Do it.
And here I am again, the sun has gone down since I started writing. My body is still vibrating a little from the ride today. I have no idea where exactly I’m going to go tomorrow, but I think I may head south to Louisiana. I made some friends. I made some peace with myself. Today was a good day.
