Blue Ridge Parkway Journeys

Steve Talevi at the end of his journey and the Blue Ridge Parkway

These are words I could use countless times to describe my recent nine-day bicycle journey along the Blue Ridge Parkway (BRP) from Waynesboro, Va., to Cherokee, N.C. Indeed, their use would become monotonous if I described only the views of the mountains and valleys from my bicycle. However, the people I met and my experiences along the 469-mile long parkway resulted in lifetime memories.

The hills and mountains of the BRP define it. I quickly learned that on the BRP, either I would be going up or down; level ground does not occur often. Indeed, the nearly nine-mile long climb from Glendale Springs to north of Benge Gap allowed me to coast (and rest) three miles to milepost (MP) 270. Similarly, the very next climb was rewarded with a three mile downhill coast into Deep Gap. The downgrade extending from U.S. 221 near MP 305 to Linville Falls Visitors Center at MP 316 would only serve as a respite and warning for what was to come: the approach to Mount Mitchell and the 17-mile climb from south of the French Broad River at MP 393 to Frying Pan Tunnel at MP 410.

“Gap.” I learned to despise the word. Whenever I saw signs that read something like “Deep Gap,” or “Gillespie Gap,” I knew that my downhill ride was soon to end and that an uphill climb would soon begin. “Enjoy it while you can,” I told myself many times as I sped down a hill. Indeed, at the end of many such runs, I found myself throwing the bike into 21st gear in a vain attempt to pedal and coast to the top of the next hill. I finally realized what a true cyclist or a physicist already knows: what takes two hours to ascend takes only 15 minutes to descend.

After having spent the night at Bluff’s Lodge at MP 241, I planned to pedal to Price Campground at MP 297. A great motivator for the nearly 60-mile trip was my belief that an all-you-can-eat restaurant was only 18 miles away at MP 259. I stopped along the way about two miles before reaching the much-anticipated restaurant, and the clerk, upon learning my plans for an early lunch, exclaimed, “The Gathering Place? Oh, Honey, that place has been closed for at least three years!” I never even saw the remains of the restaurant as I pedaled down the road.

Three detours along the BRP were in place at the time I took my trip. The first detour was at MP 287. The detour was necessary due to work being done on a bridge. A big step over the gap in the bridge, bike in hand, and a wave to the workers, and I continued on my way. I was not so lucky with the second detour. As I approached the barricade, a Park Ranger approached me from the other direction. In response to my questions, he politely advised me that the rangers were not allowing anyone on the closed portion of the BRP, that the gap in the bridge under repair was about five feet wide, and that the gorge over which the bridge spanned was over 150 feet deep. He offered to show me a short cut through the detour and gave me a bottle of water.

Visitors come from miles around to see and traverse Linn Cove Viaduct at MP 304. The Linn Cove Viaduct is a stretch of highway that sticks out over the mountainside and is a feat of engineering to behold. From a great distance away, that is. The viaduct is not popular with bicyclists who have a fear of heights and a fear of going over bridges. I could not pedal fast enough over the viaduct.

After having spent the night at Price Campground, Christa’s Country Corner at MP 312 provided just the right respite. I had enjoyed a large dinner the night before of freeze-dried chicken and rice teriyaki, but I decided not to eat breakfast in favor of trying to reach my goal of Mount Mitchell at MP 355. I arrived at Christa’s at about 10 a.m. and met the energetic ladies who make Christa’s a special stop along the BRP; the homemade soup hit the spot.

At MP 333, I encountered the first of 26 tunnels in North Carolina along the BRP, Little Switzerland Tunnel. This 542 foot-long structure made of stone and mortar was thrilling and interesting through which to ride because of its natural appearance and convenience. (Going through a mountain beats the heck out of going over it.) Eventually, however, I would learn that tunnels, with their sudden darkness and less maintenance, are a greater hazard for a bicyclist than the ordinary roadway of the BRP. My first lesson occurred when I went from bright daylight to the pitch black of an unlit tunnel. My eyes, not yet adjusted to the new conditions, offered no help as I tried to figure out where in the roadway I was. As if being visually impaired was not bad enough, I was distracted from my task of staying on the paved roadway by the roar of a passing Harley-Davidson motorcycle that was amplified by the tunnel. By the time I reached Rattlesnake Mountain Tunnel at MP 465, only the name prevented me from attempting to traverse the mountain it went through.

My trip ended at Oconaluftee Visitor Center at MP 469. While I was waiting for my ride home, a well-traveled East German gal and I chatted about our bicycling experiences. Hers occurred mostly in Europe on a three-speed bike that she cobbled together from used parts from other bikes. After listening to my just-concluded adventure, she told me, “If a lawyer can take the bike, there is hope for the world.”

I hope that she is more right than not.