I’d heard from many sources over the years that the Blue Ridge Parkway is one of the most beautiful drives one can take. Thus, I started out along that route with great anticipation, heading north from Asheville.
I had gotten a foretaste of the Parkway a few days before when my friend, Bob, had taken me for a drive on a short segment south of Asheville. I knew from that trip it was too early in the season to see much, if any, color on the Parkway; the deciduous trees hadn’t even sprouted leaves yet. Still, it was indeed a very beautiful drive. The photos below generally speak for themselves, and since I didn’t bother to note the location of each one, my comments will be few and far between.
Just north of Asheville is a Folk Art Center. No interior photos permitted.
By now, I’m sure you’re getting the impression that without leaves, the landscape is rather stark. However, I took comfort in the fact that the absence of leaves allowed for more unobstructed views.
Ice was a common sight on the northern face of cliffs:
I took a short detour off the Parkway to visit Mount Mitchell:
Near the end of my first day on the Parkway, I came to the Museum of North Carolina Minerals, which is small, but I found to be very interesting:
That’s a Geiger Counter in the photo above that you can (remotely) rotate to point at the mineral samples.
Outside are larger samples of rocks:
Just before I exited the Parkway for the RV park where I had a reservation, I came across the first waterfall I’d seen that day:
The RV park was in the shadow of Grandfather Mountain, NC. As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I’d been suffering from a sore back for nearly two weeks now. On the way to the RV park, I passed a sign advertising therapeutic massages and resolved to try one the next morning, the first professional massage I’d have in my life. The spa was part of a resort in the area. As I waited for my appointment, they put a very comforting warm wrap around my neck. It felt so good, I ended up buying one; it can be heated in the microwave.
My masseur (male) was very knowledgable and asked me many questions about my pain, how it had come on, and had me do some motions to see how it affected the pain. He then spent the better part of an hour working on my back, after noting that he was fairly certain I had pulled a very deep muscle not especially accessible to massage. At the end of the session, he led me through a list of stretches I could do to work the muscle and prevent recurrence. Overall, it was a very positive, relaxing experience, but even on my walk back to the RV, I could tell the pain was returning. Still, I was thankful that, as before, I was pain free as long as I was sitting.
My second day on the Parkway was marked by a fog that hung over the mountains for most of the day:
With not much to see, I concentrated on the process of driving. Except when near infrequent access intersections, and even more infrequent attractions, the speed limit on the Parkway is a stately 45 mph. Not once did I feel an urge to go faster than that. I seldom met an oncoming car, and almost never got bunched up behind other vehicles. If someone pulled up behind me, I simply pulled off at the next viewpoint, never more than two or three miles apart, to let them go around.
Near midday I came to a nice lake and a dam:
Later in the day the mist began to lift a bit:
There was a nice view of the sluiceway of another dam:
a picturesque valley with a train passing through:
and a large open pit mine not far from the parkway:
That evening I stayed just south of Roanoake.
Some of the most sweeping views along the parkway came on my third and last day:
I passed a historical marker very at the northern end of the parkway:
Here’s the van next the the entrance (and exit) sign at the northern end of the Blue Ridge Parkway:
Just a few miles east of the parkway was a very nice RV resort and I got a spot with a creek burbling past just a few feet away. That evening to celebrate completing my parkway journey, I went to a local brew pub for dinner. That turned out to be a very lucky choice. Not only was the huge hamburger I ordered exceptionally delicious, but I found the best beer - to my taste - in all my travels: a stout called Dark Hollow by Blue Ridge Brewing:
The key to its rich flavor is that it’s aged in used bourbon barrels. Unfortunately, it’s not in national distribution yet.
From here, I was headed to the Washington D.C. area to visit my cousin and his wife, and take in some of the sights around the Capitol. That is the topic of my next post.
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