1,400 miles & 35 Years in 7 days.

[BMWGirl]

Dang Chris - if you had THAT many ST's why didn't you grab me one! Sneak it off in the night and I'll come find it! JUST KIDDING! Your GS is still ugly!

Great report!!!

[Kres]

About 3AM my first night in the campground I woke up to a flashlight beam hitting my tent, or at least I thought so. It was actually the moon, shining with amazing intensity. I appreciated that for about 2 minutes, grumbled, and went back to sleep. In hindsight, a picture would of been a good idea - but sleep won over.

The next morning I got my my coffee and biscuit {Which for Folgers Coffee & Walmart biscuits tasted amazingly good. It's all about context. } packed up Bullwinkle, and off I went. I did get to leave my camping kit at Willville, which was nice.

The plan was to drift down the BRP and cut over to Independence VA, where Fox Creek Leathers has it's store. After that I would head north to Burkes Garden.

After leaving camp, I noticed that I had 9 miles until the GS rolled over 50K. I watched the odometer count up, and flip to 50,000, and found a nice spot for some shots:





I was like a proud parent. How odd the connection between we riders and our machines. On that note, I gave the GS a once over, Enloe's 1100GS jumping freshly to mind. After pandering to my paranoia, I suited up and rolled on down the BRP.

The ride was pretty enough through Fancy Gap, quite a few little stores and businesses blending into the landscape.



It was a brisk morning, and the ride to Independence went quickly. I reached the store, in my bright yellow 'Stitch, and walked in. I wanted to grab a pair of lightweight gloves to augment my gear. A few times along the ride, I wanted my fingers uncovered to work my iPhone for photos, tunes, and GPS. Not to mention it was getting very hot during the day. Ultimatly, I decided to give "fingerless" gloves a try on the slower roads. After all, I wear the same type of gloves on my road bikes doing 35-40 down hill.

Anyway, I made the mistake of getting a little too close to a really good looking jacket... well after 30 minutes of chatting with the very nice {and very pregnant} sales clerk, I broke down and bought it. I'd wanted a jacket that I could ride in and actaully wear comfortably off the bike. This was defiantly the one, and I have never seen a better constructed garment anywhere. Fox Creek shipped it back home for free, gave me a 30% "walk in" discount, and $60 additionally off for a sale. I'm very pleased.

After this little transaction I pointed the GS north and uphill and wandered towards Burkes Garden under GPS direction.



If your ever down that way, RT21 is a great road, very comfortable and fast. Too bad the GPS was calling the shots. It freaked out and sent me up and over a few dirt roads, finally ending at a little hut with a spring. It was a very nice waypoint, however the goat trail it wanted me to go up was just insane. After hanging out for a few minutes to calm my smoldering anger towards the little grey box bolted to my handle bars, I checked the map {how quaint...} and blasted up I-77 and through a tunnel in that ran through a 3,000 foot mountain.

It was pretty intense actually.

Anyway, I got off the slab and headed down a series of incredible roads. SR-610, SR-614 through Bastion VA. Some of the most incredible motorcycle roads ever over tight mountain passes... all tucked in with lovely rural scenery.





Then I arrived in Burkes Garden.









All of these pictures where taken just as Wolf Creek Rd. Drops you into the basin. Burkes Garden is the more heart achingly beautiful place I've ever been to.


Click for the full picture

















At this little store, as I was clicking off the last 2 photos above, an older gentleman had snuck up behind me on the road. We greated each other and started to chat. He shuffled over to the step and began chatting about life in Burkes Garden, the blessing of the bikes, and other topics. I asked him how long he'd lived in Burkes Garden and he said "Oh, about 92 years." I gave a surprised laugh and he followed with "Not all my life... yet."

After that he started quizzing me about where I'd gone before getting to the store. Apparently, he had just walked about 5 miles from the general store & lunch with his grandson. What a character he was.

I spent another hour buzzing around the Garden, just lovn' life deeply conflicted between riding or snapping pictures. Riding won.

Finally, I headed out and over the pass, back toward Willville.



On the way, I found these two critters...



Camels?! How odd.











I slipped though the twisties, and arrived back in Willville. Day mileage total: 516 miles. That Dawg for Corbins.

...to be continued...

[Maria V]

And another great day of reporting and pics. YAY!

[unleashd]

Awesome report....

Willville is my favorite motorcycle campground in VA. I've camped there on 4 occasions.

[Unity]

Very nice. And more roads to seek out ...

--John

[Kres]

Another night in Willville, another breakfast of bulk coffee and box-store bisquits. Bliss.

I don't know why, but I was convinced that I needed to leave early that morning. So I was up with the Rally crowd, and out while they lingered in their Kermit Chairs.



Having covered much of the same BRP ground down to Fancy Gap, I didn't stop all morning except for the obligatory "I'm not in Virginia anymore" photo.

Not too far in I ran across the stereotypical N.C. Blue Ridge photo overlook...









... and then the ride went straight to hell.

Maybe it was the perfect bliss of the day before setting a bar far too high to meet. Or maybe it was the ever darkening clouds in front of me. More then likely it was the !@#!$!$!! detours off the BRP that sent me off the mountain and put me in prime view of some of the WORST driving that I've ever seen.

A pickup truck, staying together with blind faith, mud, and duct tape came bursting outta the damn forest, down a hill about 400 feet in front of me. Driver whooping like a stereotype, the passenger tosses out a beer bottle clipping the crash bars on the GS and exploding like a fine sparkling wine on the prowl of a newly christened ship. {Too bad it was Budwiser...}

Welcome to North Carolina, where 10:30AM is apparently happy hour.

Needless to say I gave those buffoons a WIDE berth.

A little later I needed fuel, so I braced myself and asked the Garmin where to find some... the answer was at least 20 miles in any direction that I wasn't traveling. !@#$@!$!@% The HELL with it, I ducked off the parkway, hit 221, and found what looked like a nice little station with Wi-Fi! Score!

I spent some time online, drank some coffee, had a pop-tart, and downloaded a new book and some tunes. I was beginning to chill out a bit until I locked in on a conversation between two well dressed business men. Let's just say that these seemingly educated men had a number of issues with the executive branch - both in policy and physical appearance. One conversation? Okay, not so bad... until I clued in on other very similar conversations about people both famous and mundane.

Good lord, I was in stereotypical Hillbilly Hell. I'd been in NC dozens of times, and for some cosmic reason I was trapped in some sort of twilight zone now. Considering my other experiences in NC - this was perplexing, and very much out of what I had noticed to be "ordinary." I decided it was just the area I was in, and it was time to get the hell outta dodge.

Putting on my game face, I was determined to shake this feeling of gloom and ill-ease away. I soldiered on stoically until the next friggn' detour, this one pushing me into Beautiful Boone, NC.

I'm sure that somewhere past the mini-mart, warehouses, loading docks, chain restaurants, and general filth of the light industrial sprawling mess that is Boone there is a very beautiful college town nestled in the hills. I never made it that far. I made it through the detour, back to the BRP and was greeted in the pre-thunder shower gloom with the promise of more roadwork at the crest of the hill.

I pulled off the side of the road and thought about this. 1) I Could push on, get further from home, and face a collection of slab days to make it back home in time. 2) I could veer into the unknown of N.C. {Which on this day had NOT been a Lady to me} 3) I could turn around and get the hell out of NC and ramble around VA for the rest of the time, plodding slowly home.

Yah, I didn't see much of a tough choice here. I plowed through Boone, used 221 to get around the dirt movers on the BRP and beat feet for VA, feeling pretty good about my choice. I'll come back when they've used all their crazy up - cause this is not the state I remember.

I almost made it to the state line, but decided to slow down for the day, and got a room at the Bluffs Lodge.



Nice quiet place, about perfect for calming the nerves. The main lodge is across the street and up the hill from the restaurant, so really only guests are milling about the place, leaving it nice and queit.



I grabbed dinner, and then packed myself on a rock - and with 1 bar of signal called home to the rugrats, and uploaded a few pictures. The sun started peaking out from the clouds and I settled in for the night, reading my book.



Having a duck in the window behind you is quite the conversation starter, and the whole lodge seemed to be in a laid back easy going mood.

At one point an older gentlemen - seeing me poking at my iPhone reading - asked if I had any signal. I told him sadly no, but gave him the location of the rock that I'd reconnected with the outside world from. He laughed and we struck up a wandering conversation about kids, motorcycles, travel, and airplanes. Seems that he was a pilot on "heavies" in WWII. Told me how if you were taller then 5'10 then you were too tall to get fighters, and found yourself in the multi-engine class. Great stories. Went on to tell me that at 88, he still flies. In fact he was on his way to Oshkosh to camp out, meet up with friends, and see the old and new birds. At the end of his conversation, I said goodbye, and thanked him. There aren't many of the veterans from the Greatest Generation left with us, and I believe strongly that we owe them more then could possibly be repaid or even confessed. Just with "thank you" he seemed very pleased - and it was a good way to cap off the night, along with a killer sunset.



The next morning I was up and out at about 10. I'd opted not to get breakfast at the lodge. It was drizzling and the large collection of us biker types were slugging around in our rain gear. I'd found a clever solution to having my iPhone out in nasty weather: Take the liner bag for your ice bucket and wrap it around your phone. Then put the phone into RAM mount. The touch screen still works, and the phone is safe.



I rumbled up the parkway enjoying the quiet. It was Thursday, and it was raining. The BRP was deserted, and I liked it like that.





Somewhere along the way, I decided that I was going to stop for the night in Lexington VA, and visit some old friends of mine that own/operate the Lexington Carriage House. With a destination in mind, I just rolled along, with plenty of time to let my mind wander and relax.

I stopped in Meadows of Dan again for some Late lunch - first meal of the day.



Duuuuuude... they had Grape Nehi. In bottles. Rawk...



... and a brilliant collection of what food eats.



Lotsa little cemeteries at the side of the BRP.



By the time I'd made it to Peaks of Otter for a drink and a leg stretch, I was starting to get a little road worn. The sun had come out, and was baking me into the pavement. July had FINALLY made it.

... to be continued ...

[Deano]

OK. What the heck is this?

[Kres]

It's a spring house. Covers, protects, sometimes redirects a springs flow.

[Rick F.]

Kres,

Wow, great trip and great report! I'm really glad that you got the opportunity to head out on the road after a long layoff. The Duck appears to be glad, too.


I really enjoyed you pictures as well, naturally, with these being a couple of my favorites:



But what is "a bloom'n onion wanna be"??

Rick F.

[Kres]

Thanks Rick... almost done.

{Peaks of Otter had an appetizer that we a HUGE onion julianed, fried, and served with a mustard sauce. - Outback Steakhouse made that famous awhile ago. NOT health food.}

[Kres]

{Sorry for the delay - been brutally busy - just back from Seattle}

Leaving Peaks of Otter again, I pushed north to Lexington. There was some basic GPS madness, a gas detour from hell, and about 20 degrees of difference between the ridge and the soupy Valley climate that Lexington sits in.

I called my friend Angel from the bluetooth contraption, and found out that she was at the carriage house waiting for the last tour to come in. I veered into town, and Angel talked me in.

Been a number of years since we had seen each other, and even more since we'd had a meaningful talk. I was very pleased to find the same fire brand that I'd knew so many years ago, just a bit more smoothed over - only in the way being a parent can mold you. It was a good visit, in a comfortable place.

Met a few of her co-workers, and each one had more character in them then could possibly be described.





As the day drew to a close, I found that Angel's sister - who owns the Lexington Carriage Company, if in the area take the tour - would be there in the morning. I planned to stop by - would of been a crime not to. I spent some hotel points and got a discounted room in town, settled in, and then went walking into town for a pizza. I ended the day watching bad tv in an air conditioned room, eating pizza, and drinking cheap beer. Heaven.

The next morning I wandered into town on foot - less then a mile to the carriage house and I didn't want to wake the boxer for that. Speaking of boxers - when I got to the house I heard the unmistakable bark of a boxer {dog}, and the chatter of voices. The morning routine was in full effect when I wandered over.

There was more visiting, small talk, and an interrogation of sorts from one of Angel's daughters. The rain started to fall hard, but lucky for me, Angel dropped by in her truck so I got a ride back from the hotel - where we said our goodbyes and promised myself that I wouldn't let another decade past before I saw them all again.

I packed up the bike, and then on a whim decided to swing by the cemetery in town. It's a long story, but I have a very mixed up family heritage, with some very colorful relations - to include one Thomas Jackson of then Virginia, now West Virgina. You might know him better as Stonewall Jackson. Thomas is a relation by a cousin that lived and died in Weston West Virginia. Although the state went to the Union, after the war my family was the only branch to stay in the WV/VA region. The rest of the tree retreated to South Carolina. I could regal you with many a story - as this and a further distant relation to Daniel Boone - serve as a great pride to my mother in her research and preservation of our family tree. {Oddly, most of the noteworthy/famous relations had a tendency to be outside the social norm and expire in a hail of gunfire... seems my family needs to learn when to duck...}



So after I said hello to the cousins... I rode outta town, hooked up with the BRP and started my rumble back to the Big Meadows Lodge, where I'd decided to crash for my last night out and about.

The most interesting thing that I saw on the way back was this:



Yup, you see that correctly...



... No signs, no entrance.... maybe a monastery? Never did find out.

I was in a "mood" on the way back, and took my time rambling up the road, shutterbuggn' often along the way:
















My "Peach Pose" for your ADVRiders out there...

By the time that I got to Big Meadows the fog had burned off, and it was getting warm. I turned in to the lodge, checked in, washed some clothes in the sink, and then went to find dinner. The dining hall was pretty busy, so I had some time to check out some old photos...



... and marvel at the wonderful "last sunset" that I had blundered into.



The grub was good, AND they had Cville Beer



So good.

The next morning I packed up, and hit to road early. I had two little boys bursting at the seams to see me. As I topped off the tank at the entrance to the lodge, I noticed my Speedo was not working. A check of the cable showed that somehow the tab from the speedo spinner on the front wheel snapped off. Guess Beemer Boneyard was getting some more biz from me.

There is no climatic ending to this story, I wandered home on familer roads, survived bear sightings and tourist traffic.

I managed to stay out the entire week, not take one work call, and run an autobiographical "summary" of my life in my head that I committed to paper and tucked away for a later date.

It was a good trip, and it's nice to know that I can still spend that much time with my self.

Thanks for reading. 'Goodnight Gracey!

[MrE]

[Maria V]

It was a good trip, and it's nice to know that I can still spend that much time with my self.

Not many people can say that.
Thanks for taking us along.

[Hello Kitty]

Great stuff, Chris. Thanks for sharing so generously. You really have a good eye for 'the shot'

[Unity]

Very nice, Chris. Enviable trip, excellent documentation.

--John