Trail of Tears

Friday afternoon Rich and I  geared up and headed to Chattanooga, TN for the annual Trail of Tears motorcycle ride. The 2 1/2 ride was not bad and the weather held up wonderfully. I was a bit concerned about how I would do on the trip at 7 weeks out of surgery, but I held on and did great!

The Trail of Tears ride commemorates the plight of the Native Americans who were forced out of GA/TN to Oklahoma. 17,000 Indians began their walk and 13,000 made it to their destination. The motorcycle ride we took part in follows only one removal routes that the Cherokee Nation had to endure.

(Getting ready to leave)

This is the fourth year that we have ridden in this event along with 10,000-13,000 other motorcyclist. We lined up early and headed out at 8am sharp Saturday morning.

There is just such a 'brotherhood' and respect among riders and a feeling of surrealness as we made our way across Southern Tennessee into Alabama.

(Making our way up the Swanee Mountain - Saturday morning)

The Swanee mountain pass is beautiful but full of sharp curves. Unfortunately we came upon a motorcycle wreck in one of the curves not long after this picture was taken. As we passed the scene and I saw the two bodies laying on the side of the road. In tight situations like this you can't stop and you can't rubberneck - the downed riders had others caring for them until help could arrive; with stomachs turning we kept our eyes on the road, said a quick prayer and continued on.

(Rich and Todd)

After encountering one more accident along the way, we finally arrived at our first stop 4 hours later. We met up with our friend Todd and his brother & Dad. Rich and Todd were deployed together, Todd was the commander of the team  - the team was separated and Todd served his year at another base from Rich. He and his lovely wife have become good friends of ours and I always enjoy seeing them whenever we get the chance.

After a quick lunch we were back on the road again, heading to Florence, AL (my hometown).

 (Bikes as far as the eye could see - in front of us and behind us)

 (The man in the mirror)

(This is what I looked at for 6 hours)

The ride ended in Florence; although some folks went on the Waterloo (another historical location for the Indians - here many were loaded into boats and endured severe conditions on their journey to OK), but we opted to end our ride in my hometown. After a walk around, looking at the vendor wares and watching some pow-wow dancing, Rich and I saddled up and headed back to the Rocket City.

My body payed for the fun Sunday and yesterday but it sure was a nice event and a great time with my husband.

Peace!