Comments Added 10/25/06

Laurie Sherfey THE RAMBLING REDHEAD Are you interested in sending mail or a care package to some GI or Sailor? Click on the link www.AnySoldier.com

After a relaxing evening in the motel room with my knitting, television, and a thrown-together picnic from the camp store, I finally fell asleep, with the plan of waking up and getting an early start the next morning.

As I usually do, I woke up early - it was around 4:30 in the morning when I started stirring. With only minimal packing to do, and then all the layers of gear to get into, I didn't think I needed to get going quite that early. Looking out the window, it looked dark, windy, and very wet outside. Not to mention cold. I was getting kind of spoiled, with heat, running water, and soft pillows.

Blue Ridge Adventure - Part 2

Part 1

At around 5:30, I actually ducked outside the room, to check on conditions. Sure enough, it was cold, and windy, and my motorcycle was totally soaked. I admired the BMW parked next to it again, and went back inside. As eager as I was to get on the Parkway, I saw no sense in riding in total darkness. Also, I think that the deer move more on wet mornings like this one, and as much as I admire deer, I'd just as soon not see too many while on a motorcycle!

I putzed around in the room for about an hour, wishing again for a toothbrush. I had leftover trail mix, and a pear, and some crackers. It made for a fairly hearty and nutritious breakfast. I wanted some caffeine in the worst way, but would have to wait till later to find a cold soda. I packed up the few things I wouldn't be wearing, and put on just about everything else. I wiped off the worst of the water on the bike with a small microfiber towel I keep in the top case, and started loading up, since it wasn't raining, and it was starting to get light. I still kind of hoped the BMW rider would come out, so we could kick some tires and such, but no luck on that.

By about 7, it was fairly light outside, and it looked like it would warm up into a nice day. For now, I kept all the layers on; it felt like I'd need them, even going only 45 mph. I started the engine, but let it idle quietly to warm up, as I walked it backwards a bit, and then let it roll down the hill in neutral. I sat near the motel entrance while the engine warmed up, just breathing in the fresh, moist air, and watching the mist pour off the surrounding countryside. There wasn't a soul in sight, and the countryside looked eerie, all shrouded in mist. The only sound was my idling engine.

I put the motorcycle in gear once it warmed up, and finally headed for the long-awaited Parkway. It wasn't a long ride from here to Roanoke, but I'd savor every mile. I no longer worried about it being some kind of letdown, after all the excitement and expectations I'd built up. I knew it would be wonderful, just from the brief distance I'd ridden on it yesterday.

Only a mile or two after getting on, I rode by Mabry Mill one last time. This time, the mill was totally deserted. I stopped briefly, just to get one more glimpse of the mill, and then headed north.

I was amazed at how quiet and still everything was. The road was gently curving and dipping, just enough to be fun, but not one bit scary. I kept the speed even lower than the speed limit, because I still expected to see some wildlife. I didn't see another vehicle for over the first half hour I rode - it was quite a treat to have the Parkway all to myself.

I had never really done much shifting on hills like this before, and it was interesting to learn how to hit the right gears both for ascending and descending slopes. Shifting is the one riding skill I feel fairly good about, and I got the hang of it before too long. I liked the feel of the engine gently slowing me down on the downward slopes, especially when I could roll on the throttle at the bottom, and swoop into a curve just right.

With nothing and no one else around, I didn't worry about my speed; I was mostly below the posted speed, though. I was warm, surrounded by beauty everywhere I looked, and the motorcycle felt like a natural part of me this morning.

Eventually, I saw a car or two coming from the opposite direction, and then there was a truck behind me. I resisted the urge to speed up, and there was not a handy overlook where I could pull off, and let the truck go by. So, the poor driver was stuck doing the speed limit behind me. The section we were on was not particularly curvy or hilly, so the truck started to really ride on my bumper impatiently, but did not pass me.

Right at that moment, about 30 feet ahead of me, a fairly large doe bounded across the road in front of us. I did not panic, but I definitely went into action. I downshifted almost immediately, ready to react if there were any additional deer running with her. At the same time, I gave my rearview mirrors a worried glance, wondering if the truck was too close for comfort after all. But apparently, the driver had seen the deer, too, and had slowed down, too. We both crawled slowly past the deer's crossing point. There were no other deer, and after that, the truck stayed off my tail till I could let it pass at a scenic overlook.

I was glad I'd pulled over anyway. The heavy mists rising from the mountains and trees were lovely, in a surreal and haunting sort of way. I enjoyed the view for a few more minutes, before going on. Even as the morning brightened, and the mist was burning off, there were still only a few cars on the road, and no other motorcycles. I saw deer two more times, but both times they were at a more comfortable distance. Still, knowing they were out there kept me on my guard. When one or two cars did come up behind me, I let them pass as soon as I could, but they were not in a huge hurry, either.

The leaves were starting to turn, especially at the higher elevations, and they shimmered as a few of them fluttered down. As the morning passed, the mist was completely gone, and I saw no more deer, which was fine with me. As I was passing a small open grassy area, I did see a flock of 5 wild turkeys, though. The heads sticking up caught my attention first, but they were close enough to see their striped markings, too. I'd seen them once before, but not this close. I saw herds of cattle, some pinto ponies racing across an open pasture, and when I rounded one curve, there was a large mule standing by the fence, like he was waiting to say hello to me. There was a wonderful balance of curves, and hills, and scenery, and I felt like it was all mine, for a couple of hours.

The traffic started to pick up as I got close to Roanoke, and all too soon I was at the junction with 460 north of town. In my time on the Parkway, I'd seen maybe 25 cars, and it amazed me to have not seen a single other motorcycle.

As I headed east on 460, it was almost relaxing to not have all the sensory overload of the Parkway, to just come down from the experience gently and gradually. The more familiar feel of driving in traffic was fun, too, and I started to see a lot of other motorcycles. They all waved, and even some car drivers did, too.

I was ready for a quick stop around Bedford, to use the bathroom, finally get that soda, lose a couple of layers, and put my sunglasses on. While drinking my soda, which seemed like one of the best ones I'd ever had, I got to talking to a long, lean older guy who wanted to get a "Great Big Honkin' Harley" once he retired, so "He and the Missus could ride all over the place, maybe with her in a sidecar." "The Missus" did not look so thrilled about this plan. I told him he looked plenty big and strong for the biggest Harley made, but that sidecars don't do hills and curves really well. This earned me a grateful look from the lady. He laughed and said maybe I was right, and they both waved as they pulled out of the lot. Soon, I was back on my way, too, feeling a lot more comfortable and content, and with a healthy shot of caffeine coursing through my veins.

The ride across 460 was pretty uneventful; once I got east of Roanoke, the traffic was light, and the road was excellent. I figured I was good to cruise till lunchtime. Around Crewe, I started to think about finding some food. I like to find little barbecue places and diners, but when I saw a combined Arby's/Subway/KFC/Gas Station, I decided it would be quick, and I could also fill up (immediately thought of the old saw - Eat here and get gas!). So I pulled into the lot, and found a parking place, noting a group of Gold Wings at one end of the lot, and a very large group of Harleys behind me. By now, I was stiff, and as I pulled off the helmet, I figured I would scare the people inside, with my hair all over the place, and my unbrushed teeth. Oh, well. None of these people knew me anyway!

Busted again. Right about then, one of the Harley guys came walking over, with a big smile on his face. He recognized me from the website, or actually, he recognized my motorcycle! Part of me was thrilled, part of me was embarrassed to be caught in such scruffy shape, and part of me was just speechless. A fan! A real fan! And no camera on me, to offer photographic evidence to the Phil and the other staffers! Who would believe me?

Anyway, he offered some very kind compliments on my articles and on the website, and said their group was from Bayside Harley, and heading to Appomattox. The group was an impressive size, and had come a good distance, too. I told him where I'd been, and he actually looked a little impressed, too. I humbly pointed out that it was nothing compared to Gary's treks all over Virginia, and we both shook our heads over Gary's exploits, and his iron butt. I wish I'd known more how to deal with my first fan, should I have gone over and met the whole group?!? It's so exciting to realize there are actually people who read my random rambling! Anyway, I hope they had a great day at Appomattox. Meeting them sure made my day!

After a quick lunch, losing one more layer, and topping off the gas tank, I set out for my next stop, which would be for ice cream in Wakefield. I fought the urge to speed, as I cut around Richmond and Petersburg, through the thriving metropolis of Disputanta, and headed toward Wakefield. With traffic still light, and a nearly perfect day for riding, it seemed like no time at all till I pulled into the lot at "Eat". The food is great here, but often it's just an ice cream stop. The soft serve is really outstanding.

Last time I rode the bike here, I met a nice man riding a classic Harley. This time, as I pulled in the lot, I saw something far more unique. It was tall, and bright Hi-viz green. I knew immediately what it was - a Kawasaki KLR 650, a very shiny new one. I had never seen one in that color. It made my electric blue bike look very low key in comparison, even with the added reflective Viking lightning bolts.

I wanted to see that bike up close in the worst way. After I got my ice cream, that is! As soon as I had my dessert in hand I headed over to compliment the owner on his handsome bike.

The background on this is that when I started getting motorcycle fever, this Kawasaki is the bike my brother told me to take a hard look at; it's pretty much the original "Adventure Bike". My husband, who doesn't usually have strong opinions about anything on two wheels, finally saw one after I talked it up a bit, and said it looked like some huge ugly anime bug, and that I needed to find something "less homely". So, I got the Strom.

Looking at the two of them together, I don't really think I gained that many points in the looks department. But then we got down to talking, and comparing specs, and I could see the pros and cons of each of them. His bike: 330 pounds, single cylinder engine (aka a "Thumper"), way better off-road capability, average 62 mpg. Mine: 430 pounds, V-twin engine, better on-road performance, and average 56 mpg. His motorcycle was way narrower in the back, had higher ground clearance, and a somewhat lower seat height. It also had a slightly larger fuel tank, which amazed me!

It was funny, though; he admired my bike just as much as I admired his, especially my cool accessories, like the top box, and the engine guards. He was amazed that I got such a nice exhaust system stock on the motorcycle. His didn't look nearly as snazzy, though it certainly was more than adequate. This was probably the very first person I've met who was looking for the same things in a motorcycle as I was, and it was really fun talking to him. I've not met someone before who has such similar tastes. You know, I never even got his name. He was from Richmond, but rides down to Virginia Beach every weekend.

So, after I finished my ice cream, and he put his riding boots back on, we headed east together. I picked up a strange man at a (dairy) bar! I was really excited about riding with someone else on a bike that was "different"; a "weird" motorcycle like mine.

He led for a while, and then I did. But I was too excited to keep my speed down, so he took the lead again. And so we rode the rest of the way together, at least till we split off near Suffolk, and I headed on toward Norfolk alone. I felt sad as I waved goodbye to "The KLR guy" - I think our two motorcycles made quite a picture cruising down Route 460 together!

What a cool way to do the last leg of the journey! I could kick myself for never getting his name. He was a safe, common-sense kind of rider, knew a lot about motorcycles, and seemed really nice to boot. And I really did like that bright green Kawasaki of his. I liked the way the engine sounded. Not as smooth as mine, but still not one bit loud or obnoxious. I noticed with the lighter weight, his bike was not as stable in the wind as mine, but other than that, I think the lighter weight would make the bike very nimble and responsive. It was fun to meet him, and a treat to see the KLR 650 up close, and follow it home. This continues to confirm my opinion that you meet the nicest people on a motorcycle!

After we split up, it was only a few more miles to home. The downtown tunnel was all clear, and I cruised past McArthur Mall, and down Monticello Ave. Soon, I was pulling into the driveway, and enjoyed a warm welcome home. I had come all the way from the Blue Ridge Mountains to Mount Washmore (the waiting pile of laundry I face each Saturday). But I came with a new attitude, because getting away, and finally doing something, instead of just talking about it, felt really, really good. I met so many nice folks, stayed safe, rode 650 miles, and had a marvelous time. I can't wait to go back! Now, where's that spoonbread recipe?!?

Readers Comments

Wednesday, October 25, 2006
I always enjoy your page. Your descripions make me recall my fun time in the area ... I got started reading your stuff because of my cousin Rich (we call him Little Rich) now I read his page and yours everyime you get an update... your riding level is about where mine is and so when you have a problem I have already had it or will soon (smile). I am in California now and reading about the Tidewater and the east coast flyway area is stll great.. and the best fishing in the world (imo). Have a great one and keep up the good work
George "Red" Naylor
Roseville CA

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