2/32 – Belfast South Carolina: 05–09 Aug 2024

For 150 km the bike runs well. Then I overtake a truck and shortly after this the same problem returns. This time it doesn’t clear after a break. Check plugs and they look “lean”. Adjust carb air screw – the wrong way as it turns out. This makes it worse, not surprisingly.

I decide I cannot risk contining and and since I am in a town, try to find accommodation. The nearest Bunk-a-Biker is only 20 miles away, but he doesn’t respond, so I book in to a motel (run by Indian couple J). Dinner is a Chinese takeaway which is actually very good and the quantity is enough for four. Chuck, the Bunk-a-Biker, gets in touch and offers to help in the morning if needed.

Mon 05 Aug 2024

Next morning, help is needed. I ask if Chuck can come and take me to his place, so I have somewhere safe to work on the bike. He does, in spite of his double hernia repair a week ago.

Responses from SOHC4 suggest a fuel supply problem, so that will be first task. If no joy, I plan to remove and clean the carbs, so while waiting on Chuck to arrive, I have breakfast and buy some more plugs and some carb cleaner.

At his place, deep rural the South Africans would call it, I start trying to identify the problem. It turns out to be a fuel supply problem, indeed, One of the fuel hoses was kinked, reducing flow to two of the carbs. I shortened the hoses to prevent a recurrence and routed them carefully. A short test run proves the problem solved is solved! First prize and my heartfelt thanks to Scottly.

I quickly packed up and headed off to Newberry, only 24 hours late. The day I thought I had gained by leaving Savannah early, has been reclaimed.

As usual the work took longe than hoped and it is 2pm before I get on my way. Thankfully the problem is indeed fixed and a couple of hours later I am greeted by Angie as I drive into her yard.

Angie’s accent threw me completely. She certainly wasn’t American, but I couldn’t place it at all. It transported that she was German and had been living in the US for the past 18 years. fools me

Next morning, it was raining steadily and Angie, who had the day off work, offered to drive me to Belfast Plantation rather than ride; I accepted with no hesitation.

While we were chatting we discovered that there is another Belfast Plantation in South Carolina. This 2nd Belfast Plantation is located about 15 miles west of the Town of Allendale, near where the Lower Three Runs Creek meets the Savannah River. It was first settled in 1744 by a man named Scarborough who came to America from Belfast, Ireland and secured several small tracts of land from local owners and combined them. It’s existence is recorded in the South Carolina Historic Properties Record, and although there is a good description of the house, its location is not exact. In any case this location was behind me, in the direction of Hurricane Debbie, and I had no intention of going that way.

Tue 06 Aug 2024

The Belfast Plantation I was here to see is located on Highway 56 near Milton, on the Laurens County/Newberry County line. The home was constructed ca. 1785 by Captain William Simpson, grandfather of South Carolina governor W.D. Simpson, who named the home after his native home of Belfast, Ireland, for his new bride. The home is named for Belfast, Ireland, where Simpson lived before moving to America. The brick used to construct the home was made in Ireland and shipped by boat and wagon to the building site. After its construction, Belfast housed the only post office between the towns of Laurens and Newberry. It is now used only as accommodation for hunters using the Wildlife Management Area. Ref: National Register of South Carolina

I didn’t spend too long here and after a quick tour of downtown Newberry returned to Angie’s whee I spent the afternoon fixing my electrical issues: front flasher, front brake light and low headlight beam. After a bit of faff, these are sorted and I’m finally firing on all cylinders.

Wed 07 Aug 2024

Angie and Tim leave early for work, so our goodbyes wee said last night. I get myself organised and leave for Dawsonville, 300 km away at 0930.

The bike is running perfectly and this makes up for the rather boring ride along wide, flat, straight roads. I had planned to stop in a town called Greenville to have breakfast, and do so at Aromas Uptown Coffee. Here, as I am settling down, I am approached by a man asking about my bike. He joins me at the table and over the next 30 minutes we have a wide ranging conversation covering religious and personal freedoms, American foreign policy and the issues concerning an agricultural commodity broker, which was the occupation of my new friend.

The road doesn’t improve much; it’s too much a major route. For a sort while it becomes more enjoyable and I reach a little place called Homer. Looking for a place to shelter from the sun and have a drink, I ended up in the porch of Homer Methodist Church. A lady carrying a musical instrument case invited me inside “where it’s cooler”. She is there for band practice and introduces me to the other members of the group, who call themselves The Band of Believers (or the Big Print Band, referring to the need for music and words to be printed large). They had a couple of members who have just moved to Ireland with whom they still played by Zoom, or some such. They were not available to play today, so they are delighted to have an Irish input on site. They play me 2 songs, The Poor Wandering Stranger, and On the Road Again J I would happily have stayed a while, but as you might have guessed, I had to get ….

Anyway the rest of the ride is fairly uneventful, the usual chats at filling stations, and I get to Dawsonville, GA at 1630, where I meet Karen, my hostess for the evening, only half-an-hour later than predicted, which is something of a record.

Thurs 08 Aug 2024

I had decided to take Angie’s advice and make a little detour to Fort Mountain Overlook. Karen decided to ride along with me for part of the way and we parted in a town called Eliijah. The ride was certainly twisty, especially near the top, and the view expansive. However, the heat haze limited. it somewhat. The descent is even moe challenging that the ride up, with very sharp curves springing up unexpectedly.

Towards the bottom, I have to switch to reserve fuel, and shortly afterwards, the bike stops and refuses to start again. The symptoms are that it has no fuel, so although there is fuel in the tank, I top up with my reserve and, Lo and behold, it starts! When I fill up a bit later I only have to take 14 litres. Now the tank holds 19 litres – 14 in main and 5 in reserve – and I added 4. So, say I used 2 litres to get to the garage, I should have had room for 17 if the tank was empty when the bike stopped. So there must have been 3 litres left which clearly wasn’t enough to supply fuel. This is puzzling and something I need to look into at some point.

Once refuelled the bike runs well and eventually I make it to Linda (Jazz) and Randy Morgan’s place near Bell Buckle – the only one in the world, she tell me. It’s been a long day – 400 kms – and I’m happy to settle into the Goat Inn and get some rest.