BIG SOUTH FORK - Day Three

We had to cut our ride short on Monday after running into to unforeseen difficulties on our planned route. We had ridden ourselves into a hard place finally having to stop to regain our senses and plan an escape. We ended-up backtracking on some fairly challenging mountain dirt to get back on track. By that time it was getting late and we both had expended excessive energy in the weeds.

We planned to hit some of the roads that had been scheduled for the day before. We hit the bikes early making arrangements at the camp office to stay a little later before checking-out if necessary …. just in case we ended-up in the weeds again.

We headed east into Oneida and then went south on US 27 and took a left onto W. Jeffers Road which led into Dexter Laxton Road . We then took Pine Hill Road north toward Winfield. A quick right on Pine Grove Road brought us to Chitwood Mountain Road . We rode about ¼ mile up Chitwood before turning around and reconsidering our route. It looked good on the map, but in reality this was one rough and rocky road at the outset.

Coming back out we were chased by some little ankle biters as we made a loop on Pine Grove and Pine Hill Roads before ending-up where we had been ten minutes before.

After replanning on the GPS we continued north on Pine Grove and took a right on Bethlehem just flying by instinct. We took paved Clay Hill Road which looked interesting and it turned out to have some good farm scenery all the way to Gum Fork Road .

Taking a right onto paved Gum Fork we seemed to continue to get deeper into red neck territory. We passed one house with some twenty pigs and piglets having a down-home cat fight close to the road in an unfenced front yard. Squawking guinea hens were running amid the ruckus with heads bobbing. My grandmother from West Tennessee used to joke that you could never shoot a guinea in the head because it moved so fast.

Then we see a hand painted sign in country scrawl on the other side of the road for Bugs Buggy Car Sales. We now realize we are getting back there! But we’ve been places like this before and we know just to keep moving. Stop and you just might get a warning shot over your head if it’s your lucky day. If it’s not your lucky day you’ll never know it. Throttles open we head farther east on Gum Fork hoping that we don’t have to retrace our path past the potential shooting gallery. We’ve never encountered anything risky in the backwoods but no sense taking any chances.

The scenery eases and we come to what is shown as Ketchen on the DeLorme Maps. Don’t know why - there’s nothing here except two county employees chewing and spitting next to their grader. We can tell by looking at the map that we don’t want to go south on Upper Jellico Creek Road . That dead ends into the already encountered Chitwood Mountain Road that shouldn’t be called a road and Thompson Trail. A word to wise …. never take a dashed route that is called a trail on the GPS. We are close to the Kentucky border and no roads head north from here so we have two options. One is to retreat and hope we can safely skeet through Bugs place and the piglets, or Two continue easterly on Capuchian Mountain Road which we can see begins as gravel just across the bridge where the chewers are chewing.

Unlike most men I’m not afraid to ask directions, especially when I’m out here in Podunk land without a weapon. These guys must be okay if the county lets them have a $200,000 piece of equipment and a pick-up truck to drive. Being real friendly-like I inquire about the road ahead. They say “Oh yeah no problem. Cars take that Capuchian Mountain Road all the time.” They add “It’s pronounced like Cat Machine.”

I’m feeling better and ask for some detailed directions. I get several points and grunts while I’m trying to find the road on my GPS unit. All I hear is turn at the big house at the next intersection. Okay, and we are off feeling much better.

Three miles down this well maintain gravel road we come to the intersection. I think the road guys said turn so we hang a right and take what the GPS says is Capuchian Creek Road . All is well for a few miles other than getting chased by an ankle biter as we passed one home place.

Then we are suddenly riding through what looks to be completely dry creek beds. It is hard to even follow the road as we cross a hundred yards of creek rock hoping not to misstep and drop our new KLRs. Once across a couple of these potential roadblocks we see that we are off the GPS track that I had programmed back at the two-man road crew.

The road is getting worse and suddenly we are in a deserted hunt camp. Thank God it was deserted. We get nervous when there are a lot of guns around. We did a quick turn-around and headed back to the north hoping to find the GPS path once again. We found it and took a right. Soon we crossed a couple of branches and suddenly the road angled upward and turned nastily rocky. I made it up a hundred yards before coming to an abrupt halt. It was so steep that as I hung onto the front brake the front wheel kept sliding backwards and my bike was nearing Nancy’s who was stopped not ten feet behind me. Luckily the wheel finally grabbed and I came to a complete stop. I don’t like going backwards on a motorcycle.

Time to re-examine the GPS and get the Fudge out of Dodge. Backtracking past the ankle biter once more we find the error of ways. We were supposed to have turned left at the intersection, not right. Now we are on a well manicured gravel road that we could do 80- mph on if we wanted to.

Oddly the GPS shows all three roads as Capuchine Creek Road , so now I don’t feel so bad about the wrong turn. After a little more than three miles we T-Bone into Whistle Creek Road . A left would take us into Kentucky in just ¾ of a mile, but it’s a long way loop out that direction. So we take a right heading south along Whistle Creek for Newcomb and TN 297. There was very little traffic on the super-gravel highway. We did get behind a car dusting us from ahead, but luckily it was the postal service delivery that stopped at the next mailbox.

Three miles later we come to the watering hole in this idyllic mountain setting. Out here in the middle of Podunk is the Rooster Scratch Bar. By the looks of the front parking area they can have some good old times here. There are a couple of burned out RVs in case you have to spend the night, a road department tractor/backhoe with engine parts scattered in the dirt, a warehouse forklift, used tires randomly discarded, a partial roll of chicken wire, several pick-ups, a horse trailer and one skittish bulldog.

Near the front door is an outdoor gathering area with auditorium chairs, benches made of 2x10s on concrete blocks, a home-made BBQ, tables fashioned from cardboard beer crates, an old plastic deep-sink, a dirty plastic rooster, a weathered Pepsi machine topped with beer cans, a trash can and a couple of 5-gallon buckets filled to overflowing with beer cans, another 50 or so cans scattered on the ground, a burn pit made from a piece of drainage pipe, and a pile of cardboard beer crates that didn’t get burned the night before. Signs on the side of the building argue for Bud, Bud Light and Miller. Another proclaims Wednesday as “Ladies Night - Beers $1.00” and “Welcome 4-Wheelers”. It’s early October and the Scratch has its Christmas wreath and icicle lights already hung. Over the front door is the welcoming sign that says “GO-BRALESS IT HELPS PULL THE WRINKLES DOWN FROM YOUR FACE” and a small US flag.

Inside we met the barmaid and her daughter and one guy at the bar introduced to us as one of the regulars, John. It’s barely noon and all three are slugging down beers. The barmaid tries to get us a couple of brews, but it’s way too early for even me. She tells us a lot of 4-wheelers come by here on the weekends. “It’s not legal but the law doesn’t like to come back here and get their cars dusty.”

Like a real Irish pub the patrons of the Rooster Scratch have plastered the wall with personally autographed dollar bills. There is a jukebox of course, Christmas lights, a Tennessee Football flag with the 2007 schedule on it, a sign that say “HE RULES THE ROOST BUT SHE RULES THE ROOSTER”, and a multitude of beer plaques, mirrors and pennants. They even sell their own T-shirts which I forgot to get!

The Rooster Scratch is so great it should be on the National Register of Historical Places. We were welcomed by the gracious country folk and we always find these differing cultures of interest. We simply report what we see at these unique places. These are real people and we enjoy seeing politically incorrectness such as this after experiencing the exact opposite in our more urban lives.

We hated to leave before Happy Hour, but we had to get back to the camp and check-out. Another three miles and we regained the pavement. Turning south onto TN 297 we found 14 miles of scenic twisties passing through Elk Valley and Pioneer. Then TN 63 took us back west to US 27 for the return to Oneida .

Back at the camp we reminisced about the great riding we had unexpectedly found here in the area of Big South Fork. There was a little bit of everything from dirt bike trails, to tight twisty, to long sweepers. And the people were all friendly and unique, from the Forbus General Store to the Rooster Scratch Bar. Want to really see the world? Get on some of these backroads and explore.