Blue Ridge Parkway by Motorcycle: Easy Riding
Slow dancing on America's beloved Blue Ridge Parkway.
It doesn't get much better than this. There just isn't a road as smoothly paved and beautifully shouldered as the Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP). There isn't a highway that snakes and tunnels quite so brilliantly anywhere. It's a 469-mile Kodak moment. No commercial vehicles, no billboards, no stoplights.
You've got to love it -- even if the 45-mph speed limit is nauseatingly monotonous and the Fedora-driven Cadillacs and spawn-laden Suburbans can induce weeping when they finally pull to the shoulder. There's really only one way to do it right, and that's to slow down and sink submissively into the snail's pace -- to really let go of the grind and drift without giving thought to time. As someone who tears through life with head-pounding haste, I find crawling along the Blue Ridge Parkway can be profoundly medicinal.
Last October, the leaves were in the peak throes of change. It was literally raining yellow, orange and red. There was just enough chill in the air so that little puffs of fog pulsated on my face shield in time with my breathing. And I wasn't alone. There were about a million other camera-wielding tourists (dubbed "leaf freaks" by the locals during this time of year) there to witness the wave of color.
Jump on the Parkway at the southernmost end in Cherokee, North Carolina, a kind of silt pond that accumulates tourists as they drain from both the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and the Blue Ridge Parkway. Cherokee includes -- you guessed it -- the Cherokee Indian Reservation, where the famous tribe prospers somewhat by selling trinkets to the touring throngs. But hidden among the trite tidbits are some truly delicate hand-made treasures that more accurately convey the intricacy and dignity of Native American art and heritage.
Climbing toward the crest of the Appalachian Mountains is thrilling. This range is distinguished as much by romantic legends about its hardy and humble residents as by its geological significance. These mountains are so old their once jagged peaks are smooth and round. The Appalachian Range is actually a classification, which includes sub-ranges that run from Alabama to Canada. In principle, the Appalachians actually continue on the other side of the Atlantic into Scotland and Norway.
The BRP's sweeping two-lane road is flawless, and the grassy sloping shoulder is always trimmed and tidy. It's a safe road by most standards -- the only real hazard being the distracting effect the view has on drivers. The southern end of the Parkway is part of Great Smoky Mountains National Park and the Waterrock Knob parking area provides an excellent panoramic view. Over the next 450 miles there are, quite incredibly, approximately 250 viewing pullouts.
There are also 469 milepost markers on the road. Just before mile post 422.4 is the Devil's Courthouse, an exposed mountaintop lavishly endowed with Native American legends. I stopped here to get a view of Pisgah National Forest. Asheville, North Carolina, surrounded by this same forest is approximately 70 miles from Cherokee on the Parkway. I love Asheville for its charming blend of history and hippie culture. It's also the home of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and Parkway Headquarters.
The Folk Art Center is one of the most popular places to soak up the cultural history of the aged hills, and just beyond that is Craggy Gardens, where in June the rhododendrons bloom a profuse purple. Aside from the falling leaves, everything on the ground seemed neutral this time of year. Even fall's tiny lavender wildflowers were silenced by the vibrancy of the trees.
Grandfather Mountain is a favorite destination, and a look at the Linn Cove Viaduct clinging to its side is a rather interesting contrast to all the natural wonders of the area. At Mile 308.3 you can take a short leg-stretch to Flat Rock for the best view of the Mountain and Linville Valley. If you're a waterfall fanatic stop short at Mile 316.3 for a walk to the Linville Falls.
After about 100 miles on the Parkway you begin to realize you're getting nowhere fast. Between the speed limit, sights and side trips you've passed away as many hours as it would take to ride to New England on the Interstate. For me, that's the beauty of this ride. I feel like I'm on a tramway above reality. The steady movement and unfailing scenery are so peaceful it's lulling.
After passing the landmark Brinegar Cabin, built in 1880, pull off the Parkway at Mile Post 238.5 and discover a treat. The Station's Inn, a combination gas station/store/restaurant owned by Bruce Cook, is a regular motorcycle hangout and the decor echoes the enthusiasm.
In Virginia, the famous Appalachian Trail crosses the Parkway 25 times, letting day hikers sample a bit of the legendary 2160-mile hiking trail. The trail was cut in the 1920s in answer to America's post-war appetite for wilderness preservation. The same mountains, which had been a dreaded obstacle blocking colonial expansion, were crowned as sacred.
The Parkway through Virginia is quite different than in North Carolina. It peaks, tunneling through the dogwood and hickories, and then rolls gently down through valley farmland. There are many creeks and lakes in the area for summer play, and the Humpback Rocks area at Mile Post 5.8 is a great place to picnic.
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Topic: Blue Ridge Parkway (Read 1649 times)