| May 25, 2007 - Blue Ridge Parkway (VA/NC) |
| |
|
Since I spent last night in Charlottesville, VA (with my new friends Jason and Deb), I was
within 25 miles from the northern terminus of the Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP), which was my
intended route for today. The BRP is one of the elite eight “All American Roads” in
the US as well as one of the 44 to receive an “America's Scenic Byway” designation. For
those who are not familiar with the BRP's location, here is a map along with basic details:
During the 25 miles on I-64 West from Charlottesville to the entrance to the Parkway (which
is also the southern terminus of Shenandoah National Park), I reflected on previous BRP
jaunts that were done in pouring rain, bitter cold, swelting heat, etc., which made me even
more thankful for the absolutely freakin' perfect weather today!
Just beyond the entrance sign is another sign, one that I'm confident motorcyclist would vote
as “Least Favorite Sign”:
After pausing to take those two photos, Sarah McLachlan (on the iPod) and I (on the FJR)
commenced the Blue Ridge Parkway portion of this
East Coast 2007
journey. Being that today is the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, I was quite concerned about
hitting traffic as well as finding a campsite near the southern end, which is where I intended to
pitch my tent tonight. My first clue that dealing with holiday travelers was not going to be
an issue came when I stopped at the first Visitor Center on the Parkway and talked with the non-gun
totin' Ranger inside. Ranger “Jim” was very reassuring I could score a campsite but he still
made a phone call to his Ranger counterpart on the southern end of the BRP and confirmed that finding
a tent space later today would be “no issue whatsoever, ma'am.”
Charlie Mac gets a big +1 for that statement!
While I was parked beside the sign in that last photo, a man pulled into the overlook on his motorcycle
and parked in front of me, thus unable to see my AZ license plate. Like a puffed up peacock, the
rider proceeded to prance around his motorcycle by the overlook while drinking water and telling me
about his experience riding “all the way from Atlanta.” I respectfully listened while I was
re-gearing and preparing for my departure though I was thinking this guy is so full of himself it's
funny. I don't typically volunteer information about myself or my travels, and in situations
like these it's almost never; however, I will answer a direct, non-personal question if asked. Just
as I was ready to start the FJR, he asked me but a single question: “So, where did you ride
from?” Well, mister puffed up peacock's expression to my response of: “I left Arizona one month
and 9,000 miles ago” was simply priceless. I couldn't even begin to describe it!
My concerns about any holiday weekend congestion dwindled over the course of the next 150 miles during
my jaunt down the BRP where, strangely, I saw only one RV, less than a dozen automobiles, and
approximately 50 motorcycles! That's in 150 miles on one of America's Scenic Byways on a Friday
of a holiday weekend...simply amazing!
I took a planned detour off the Parkway to head over to Hardy, VA and the Booker T. Washington National Monument:
Since I'm a person who is all about respect too, Booker gets a +1 from me on his statement. I
believe you could substitute the word “race” with any group, like “team” or “company” too.
The reason for the detour was for, of course, a Passport Stamp but I certainly returned to the Parkway
with much more than a stamp. The brief 45 mile detour to Booker's place sent me through a few
small towns which had enough traffic lights and commercial trucks to have me yearning for the
Parkway. I couldn't wait to get back on the mountain and away from the hustle-bustle-horns
honking-trash laden-busyness streets. Once I reached the Parkway, a deep breathe of relief was
had as well as a pause at this overlook to acknowledge how good it felt to be alive and enjoying the
beauty in life and nature:
While I ate a banana, my eyes wandered across the valley below and my mind wondered how many people
in that valley are living in an illusion as if there is a guarantee of a tomorrow, or even the rest
of today. I doubt anyone would have heard it, but I considered yelling “SEIZE THE JOURNEY,
THERE IS ONLY SO MUCH TIME!”
I don't know the number of official overlooks along the BRP but they certainly frequent and not far
apart. It would greatly extend your travel time if you stopped at all of them but I always find
it difficult to pass one by. Here are a few more and the views they offer:
I stopped briefly to walk around this area and skip a few rocks in the lake...
... then shortly thereafter I came upon another pullout that I always enjoy taking a quick hike down
a path to see this:
Maybe my most favorite sign of the day:
What that sign really says for some of us is: “You may now reconnect your radar detectors!”, which
is exactly what I was doing in the photo! Within the first 10 miles it was called to duty as
I passed a north bound Park Ranger LEO (btw, running Ka band).... sweeeeeeeet! My goose-egg
streak (ZERO tickets EVER) is alive!
This might be the most popular sign on the Parkway with motorcyclists:
Aside from what is pictured being odd, I find that the curve beyond the sign is not really uniquely
different from many other curves found on the Parkway though this is the only goofy sign in all 469 miles:
I made it to the campground with almost an hour before sunset, and much like Ranger Jim had said earlier
in the day, I had no problems finding tent space. I proceeded to set up my tent then do what most
riders who had just completed over 400 miles ripping down the Parkway would do... I went back out
riding! Rest? Are you kidding?! Seize the journey means ALL of it. Hey, I figure
I'll have plenty of time to rest when I'm dead! Since I was needing to address a flashing fuel
light, and since I really wanted to be on an overlook to watch most of the sunset, I figured I could
accomplish both. The BRP is notorious for deer, so given the time of day I knew I was in a “red
zone” but I figured I'd go very, very slow and not go too far. Since my GPS does not denote the
small roadside turnouts for the overlooks, I had no way of knowing just how far the next turnout was
located. After 15 miles with not a single overlook, I whipped a U-turn and headed back towards
camp. That pesky flashing fuel light seemed to get brighter and brighter though I'm sure it was
just my imagination. My GPS pulled up a name brand station that was 7 miles from camp off the
mountain so I took this photo then headed for petrol:
My GPS and I have a love-hate relationship. Sometimes it sends me through a break in a barbed
wire fence across a grass field, and sometimes it directs me down roads that are simply
unforgettable. It's offering tonight to get me to a gas station included North Carolina state
road 80 (or “NC-80”). Oh, my, what a find! WOW!! I throughly enjoyed the ride down
but the reality of that fuel light once at the bottom suggested my victorious find for the evening
should be a gas station and not the NC-80 road. I followed the route to the gas station but I
was greeted with a big fat “Closed” sign upon arrival.
Once at the station I filled up, WAY up...
... and I met “Christal”, who two days prior had completed the MSF's Basic Rider Course, and just last
night had purchased a new motorcycle: (It was much darker outside, I had to use the flash):
They were all stunned I had ridden from Phoenix, especially Christal. She related her “complete
and utter fear just riding from my house a few miles from here”, and couldn't fathom riding across
country, much less 65,000 miles in one year (my 2006 total). Listening to Christal as she dismounted
from her first street ride and witnessing her energy and emotions certainly made for a unique gas
stop. After visiting with Christal and her parents, I bid farewell and went a few miles down the road
to a convenience store (I refueled at a pay-at-the-pump only station) where I met “Michael”, a local track
junkie and super nice guy:
(Note: just happenstance a LEO car is in that photo.... hmmm, how many thought my goose egg streak had ended?? HA!)
As we guzzled our Mountain Dews, he gave me the scoop on the area and said “whatever you do, it has to include
a road called NC-80.” What luck—I'd already found it!
Today's final Stamping Expedition results:
And the GPS total:
WOW, what a great day it has been!
If you wish to receive direct emails when future reports are posted click
This Link
AGirl
| |
|
|
For those wanting specifics, here are the exact GPS coordinates for the Parkway's northern
end: N38 1.868, W78 51.488 and the coordinates for the southern end: N35 30.305, W83 18.080
(Note to the Matriarch and to those who don't own a GPS unit: Simply copy one of those
coordinates and paste it in Google maps:
Yee-haw!! Blue sky, slight breeze, and a mercury reading of 65-70 degrees! I have
been on the Parkway literally countless times; while attending college in Charlottesville I
would head for the Parkway every chance possible whether it was to play or to study, or a
combination of both. I've ridden the entire length of the Parkway at least a dozen
times, and every single time, just like today, my excitement escalates with every passing
mile as I approached the entrance:
By the way, not only does this road provide incredible views and the opportunity to ride in the
absence of commercial trucks, but it also has another very important offering: National Park Passport
stamps!! Woo-hoo!
Ranger Jim stamped my book and said he'd never met someone with so many Passport Stamps. (My
complete list: 
There is something about the mountains for me (which is why I was a full time resident at 7000'
feet for a decade) that stirs my spirit and offers my body and mind room to roam even more freely. I
was blessed to have grown up a few miles from the entrance to one of the eight “All American Roads” (the
Natchez Trace Parkway in TN) and I went to college less than 25 miles from another one of the eight. (For
a complete list, click: 
I was even more surprised that 95% of all traffic was heading in the opposite (northern) direction of
me! Regarding the two wheeled travelers, there were several large groups of motorcycles but most
were single bikes, and I'd say about half were riding 2-up (with a passenger). To add to my shock,
in that 150 miles I saw a grand total of zero Park Ranger LEOs (Law Enforcement Officers...that'd be of
the gun-totin-ticket-issuing variety), which was a good thing since I was still in the state of Virginia
and running without my beloved V1 radar since detectors are illegal in the Commonwealth.
Uh-oh. I did a new search for “Nearest gas station”, and the results sent me another 5 miles
away. Being that I was in a rural area, there wasn't much traffic out on this Friday night of
Memorial Day weekend. Ok, there was none... except when I came over a hill I saw two small tail
lights and knew they belonged to motorcycles. Thankfully, they were moving at a very slow pace
and I was able to catch them at a stop sign. I pulled up and asked if they knew where the closest
place was for me to refuel since I was running on fumes.
They said it was two miles away and they'd lead me there.
WOO-HOO!! I was completely relieved even if I did run out (which, by the way, hasn't happened in
a looooong time and never on the FJR) since not only because I had new friends leading me, but also
because I carry an “Oklahoma credit card” (aka “gas siphon”) on-board.
After saying goodbye to Michael, I saw the GPS was saying going back up NC-80 was my only option to get
back to camp... and it was pitch dark at this point! Yikes!! I love super twisty mountain
grades, but not at night for goodness sakes! Not only would I need to get up NC-80 but I also had
to cover several miles on the Parkway itself to return to camp. I rarely mismanage my fuel or the
sun, and to have both happen at the same time was indeed a first in all the years I've been
riding. (Note to the Matriarch: re-read that last sentence a few times). As I climbed back
up NC-80 with my fork-mounted Moto-Lights showing the way, I thought about the folks who don't believe
auxillary headlights are necessary or who don't understand the importance of fork mounted lights (as the
front wheel turns so do the lights, thus illuminating your path of travel, versus non-fork mounted lights
which only illuminate straight ahead). Well, there is nothing straight about NC-80 and I've never
been so thankful for my 
I made it back up to the Parkway and as I turned right to head towards camp, several raccoons scurried
across the road. As expected, there was no traffic and no other lights than those coming from my
FJR. A few miles later I pulled into an overlook, turned the bike off, and just sat looking at
the stars and listening to nature's noctural sounds around me. It was an experience I could have
only had alone, but one that I wish I could share with everyone.
|
Copyright © 2006-2012, All Rights Reserved. |