A ride through Heaven

"Where I come from, the roads around here are famous."

That's what I usually say to the people I meet in Appalachia about rides like the Blueridge Parkway, Skyline Drive,  etc.  It's no lie. These are the roads I've been hearing legends about for as long as I've been a Biker. I had heard about the twisty roads, the views and the combination of it all that made it all worth talking about a thousand miles away.  It was time to drop it into gear and lay a patch toward the highcountry!

Skyline Drive was first on the list, and it would take us through Virginia to our a campsite I found in Waynesboro. With my Fellow Traveler behind me and my gear stowed in her car, we turned into Skyline. I was immediately treated to a healthy climb in elevation on a winding ribbon of pristine asphalt through a corridor of green. The first thing that struck me was the condition of the road. Scenic byways like this are closed to commercial traffic and parts are shut down seasonally. They are spared the rigors of heavy trucks and plow blades. The result is an absence of the split road surface and Biker-launching potholes that are so common in New England. The grueling highway miles loaded down with gear had done a number on my tire. It was time to give the middle of my tire a rest, and keep it on the edges. The Monster was devouring the turns, and my face was starting to ache from the ear-to-ear grin.

All along the road are scenic overlooks that are so gorgeous, you could just lean out your window and get a postcard quality picture. Since you ride along the ridge, you get views of the overlapping peaks and valleys of West Virginia and Kentucky on one side and the expansive hollows (pronounced "hollers" apparently) to the east. The weather at some points on the Appalachians moves East to West, so as I watched fog rolling over the top, the feeling of heading north one moment and South the next added to my euphoria. Even in the middle of the day, turkeys and deer made appearances occasionally, but not often enough to make me lay off the throttle. It was what I can confidently call the ride of my life so far.

We descended back to earth and jumped on the highway for a bit and camped out at a TA Travel Center. That's right, a tent site at a truck stop. I thought it was awesome and it fit the budget nicely at 15 bucks. Despite a passing 18 Wheeler blowing a tire a hundred feet away early the next morning, it was pretty relaxing.

The next day we made our way towards the next stop: Asheville, NC! My Fellow Traveler once lived in a great town by the name of Boone, and with high recommendations of a thai restaurant located there, I was happy to get to Asheville via Boone.

Boone is a big magic trick... A commercialized college town somehow hiding behind a tiny, tight knit village. Everyone there seems to know everyone else, and I couldn't help but feel like I was in Vermont. Artisan bakeries, craft beer brewpubs, locally sourced restaurants, art galleries, you name it. All the awesome food and art snobbery you could imagine, and not so much as a whiff of the college hooliganism you'd expect with the school right there in town. And I say that as a UMass Amherst alumni, so I know my shit. How do they do it? Whether by design, or good fortune, the malls, the department stores and all that commercial garbage are all a mile away from the village, with a buffer zone of residential neighborhoods in between, dorms included. The swanky thai restaurants and Moroccan tea room don't fit the college budget, so they all steer clear. We met with some old friends of my guide, and I had an unforgettable dinner with all of them. Great food, warm people and a cozy town. We found ourselves going back to Boone often during our time in NC, and we always got the best of their hospitality.

Departing Boone was where things got a little dicey... And by dicey, I mean soggy. And by soggy I mean absolutely fucking soaked. Find out in my next post when I take you on A Ride Through Hell.