We originally planned to ride north of the Blue Ridge Parkway, only cutting onto it for the final section into Asheville. Guys on motorcycles, in Shenandoah, explained it as being rough even on their rumbling machines. Climbs in excess of 3,000 feet, only to drop right back down and immediately climb back up 3,000 feet. Repeat, repeat, repeat for many miles. One source I found online claimed our route on it would require 49,000 feet of gain. After Skyline Drive, valley roads sounded wonderful. We dropped down to the valley floor and have been slowly experiencing the Virginia countryside. It's quite the experience.
However, as it usually happens after a few days, we miss the mountains. The vast amount of trees to hang from, brooks to bathe in, deer to yell at us and enough open space to blare our boombox without being worried about revealing our location. The valley has been great, but we're taking the Blue Ridge Parkway for the remainder of the miles to Asheville. We're meeting my uncle at his second home in Asheville on the 1st or 2nd of October. Seven days of travel, with only 170 miles of distance. Hopefully these famed Blue Ridge grinders will slow us down a bit. If not, we've become pretty skilled when it comes to hanging our hammocks and doing nothing for a whole day.
First we have to make our way to the parkway, up on the ridge. We've heard accessing it is often the hardest task, but with a little research, we've found a rail trail which gets us close to it. Today, we pedal to it. We've had a few little hiccups along the way. Having to aggressively steer my bicycle onto the road, I knee my bar end shifter with my left knee. It immediately becomes sore and tightens up in the first few miles of the day. I knead it as I ride and it becomes tolerable. Icy Hot has been my saving grace for it now. The second hiccup is one of our more common types. We stop at a place called Patty's Kitchen for lunch. Lately, southern food has been our jam. This time it's country fried steak, grits with cheddar, cole slaw, mac n' cheese and cornbread. It's delicious and everything is fairly routine at this point.
The waitress catches us off guard with a dessert menu. Homemade peanut butter pie for $2. We'll take two. These slices are huge, delicious, and richer than any dessert I've ever devoured. Poking a fork in it from the top, I can pick up the slice without angling the fork. Our mouths are salivating more and more, but our stomachs and dignity are yelling at us to please stop. Pipe down stomach. Can't stop, won't stop. We leave Patty's brimming with food and burping loudly.
The rest of the ride to the rail trail is interesting. The side of Virginia which will never be depicted on a post card. Very different from the mountain or valley farming cultures we have seen in Virginia so far. Roads are lined with trailer homes, some double wide. Broke down minivans in driveways. Most houses have a dog and each one barks at us. The Confederate Flag is draped off many of the porches. Strangely, the other flag flown is almost always West Virginia University football. These people live in Virginia, but are fans of the football team of the area which they share more ideals with. They show West Virginia pride, rather than that of their state, Virginia. People act as if we don't exist as we ride by. Most people usually acknowledge the strangeness of the sight with a look, if nothing else. The roads are deteriorated and often times the road is crumbling over the white line. In one section, we find the road to have an 8 inch drop off the side. We ride the line and get plenty of space from most people who drive by.
This rail trail is absolutely stunning. Exactly how we hoped to ride after passing through trailer-lined roads. Aside from one in Pennsylvania, all the rail trails had been paved. This one is 57 miles long and a combination of packed dirt and gravel the whole time. The entire trail is within the New River Trail State Park. The longest state park in Virginia. Ironically, it's also the narrowest, with an average width of 80 feet. Although we only encounter a few people on it, the condition of the trail is very well maintained. For sections of it, it feels as if we're riding on smooth concrete. It winds along the New River, which flows north. Following it uphill on a consistent railroad grade, there isn't a single foot of elevation loss for the entire distance of the trail. Steadily, we'll climb up to a town called Galax, which is right outside of the parkway.
The trail starts out amongst farming. We moo at the occasional cow and see rusty farm equipment beneath growths of vines. Farming slowly gives way to the forest, as the elevation, remoteness and steep terrain make farming less practical. We pedal with the New River on one side and steep, rocky terrain on the other. Trees from both sides touch above, creating the trail canopy which has become a common feature on our trip. The New River is a big river, complete with muddy water and a strong current.
Camp is made, sleep happens and we continue on. We pass by abandoned mines, huge overhangs of rock, old train cars and through tunnels. Even though we stop and slowly walk our bikes, a horse begins freaking out and bucking around with a rider on it. It further enforces my dislike for horses and we continue on, with apologies from both sides. The temperature is perfect for riding bikes. Shade from the trees cool us down, just as the sun hits our backs and begins to heat up our shirts. We come around a corner to find a teenage couple doing awkward stretches and leap frogging. They laugh as we catch them and say they wish they had bikes. We chuckle and ride onward.
Before we know it, the trail ends and drops us in Galax (pronounced Gay-lax). The first building we see is clearly an old factory made of brick, which is now decrepit and being taken over by the forest. We later learn it was a furniture factory. As we roll into town, it shows all the signs of a town left in the dust after industry disappeared. The main street is beautiful, with brick sidewalks and flower planters hanging from vintage light posts. The shops retain their original character, with clean paint and glass at their storefront. However, take a walk two blocks off the main strip and it's a different world. Everything seems run down and scraping by. Many buildings are vacant and others seem to find a meager reason to stay open. Such as a glass and radiator repair shop with a broken front door. One local informs us of Galax's powerful meth presence and both the lack of drive and teeth in town make it apparent. People size us up. It's sad to see and hard to write about in hopes of remembering, but it's a large part of American culture in many areas. Industry is a fuel and it prospers in our capitalist society, yet leaves an area impoverished and often high in crime once it dries up. Galax is such a town. I'm sure it was once a thriving town, but only remnants of it still shine through.
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