I talked to Will about routes to Blue Ridge Motorcycle Camp as I ate my chicken biscuit.  I had thought that it was only about 135 miles, so I would ride down in the morning, unload, and ride the area for the rest of the day.  “Wrong”, Will said.  It was more like 235 miles, 5 hours on the Parkway, without stops.  We talked about some other options, and I decided that I would ride the Parkway a bit, head west to Roan Mountain, then south on some other roads that I wanted to check out.  I left about 9. 

   

Cell service had been sketchy at Willville, so one of the first orders of business this morning was to check email.  I had a project going on back home that I needed to keep tabs on.  I figured that there would be good service up on the Parkway, due to the elevation, so at the first turnout I saw, I was open for business. 

Cell phone as a modem.

 

The Parkway was beautiful.  Skies were clear, the temperature was moderate, and the road was practically abandoned.  I was having so much fun, that as I approached my turn off point, I started to reconsider my route.  Did I really want to deal with traffic, billboards, and towns?  Not really.  I was just having too much fun cruising along about 50 MPH, drinking in the scenery.  Plans changed, I stayed on the Parkway.
 

 

 

 

Sign crew has a sense of humor.

View from the office.

 

I met two guys in their 60's touring on 250cc Taiwanese scooters.  One had ridden up from Florida, the other was from South Carolina.  They said that the scooters were fine up to 65 MPH, so they just stayed off the Interstates.  They loved them.

 

 

Of course, it never crossed my mind to take pictures of the RIDERS...  Idiot.

 

I needed gas at Blowing Rock, so turned into town to tank up.  A landscaper was filling his mowers at the pump next to me, and the working guys always know where to find a meal, so I asked him where a good local eatery was.  He recommended a barbeque place, and it was a good call.  I took my laptop in to check email, but could not get a digital signal on the cell phone, so no dice.  After an excellent, huge, and cheap lunch, I headed south again. 

 

How could I resist?

 Instead of getting right back on the Parkway, I took US221, paralleling the Parkway for 19 miles.  It was a wonderful detour, tight and twisty, as opposed to the Parkways flowing sweepers.  Back on the BRP at Linville.

 

On US 221 between Blowing Rock and Linville.

 

At some point there was a detour off of the BRP, and I mis-read the signs, got off at the wrong place, got turned around, and ended up back on the Parkway.  The real detour finally appeared at 80, and the ranger informed me that the BRP was closed for maintenance all the way to Asheville.  80 was a road that I had heard about, so it seemed like a fortunate place to have a detour.  It was.

NC 80

 

 

80 descending from the Parkway, left to right.

 

80 dumped me on hot, crowded, dirty US 70, which took me to I40.  At least I got to ride one of the most entertaining parts of 40, where it climbs up over a mountain between Old Fort and Black Mountain.  There was construction as I approached Ashville that held me up for a few minutes, but soon I left the Interstate and got back on the BRP.  Being close to Ashville, there was a lot of traffic here, but it thinned pretty quickly as I headed south.  Soon I came to 276, and turned west for the decent to the Blue Ridge Motorcycle Campground.  There had been some icing here recently, and the corners at higher elevations were full of sand, so I took it easy until the road cleared, then wicked it up and had a ball.

 

 

Into the campground, I checked in and set up.  Another rider named Mark pulled in about the same time as I did, on an ST1300, from Pennsylvania, headed to Atlanta.  We were the only guests that night.  He invited me to join him at a little eatery up the road, but I said I would hang out and wait for Richard, who had said he would try to meet me here tonight..  No answer on his home or cell phone, so I figured he was riding my way.  About 6:15 I called him again, and got him at home.  Something had come up, and he would not be able to make it. 

 

Not feeling like a sit-down meal, I ran a few miles up the road to a convenience store and bought dinner.

 

I had good cell service here, so I called Lana and Bill while I ate, messed around camp for a while, and turned in about 10.

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