It's now close to noon. I'm about an hour north of Fancy Gap. As I gas up I notice a Subway sign. Perfect. It's getting hotter and I change into my warm weather pants. I get a grilled chicken sub and life is good.

Sitting there chewing and examining my maps, I spot a K1100 LT pull in the parking lot. As the rider strolls across he glances at my laden bike. He comes in, we exchange greetings, and I invite him to sit.

His name is Carl. He's based in the Upper Peninsula and on his way to meet his older son somewhere south of here and then ride together to Florida. He's dressed in a mesh-type jacket and jeans.

He mentions that he rode through rain most of last night before stopping in some town. This is a motel trip for Carl, so he's travelling very lightly - no camping gear to lug around.

I ask him about the jeans. Didn't he get wet?

Turns out that the K-LT fairing provides quite good weather protection, with just a bit of overspray getting to him.

We survey maps together and exchange some notes. Though he's not on a tight schedule, he can't fit the rally in.

We walk out to the parking lot together and part company.

So far I've made good time and decide I can afford to get on the Blue Ridge Parkway at Fancy Gap. This will slow me down some, but BRP change of pace and quality of road will be worth it.

It’s good to be back here but I'm reminded that the speed limit is painfully low for a bike. Forty-five mph can be agonizing on a good stretch of road, especially during low traffic weekdays. And yet, I respect the fact that this is a parkway and not a speedway. I compromise by riding at the posted limit on the straight sections while keeping optimized momentum in the countless curves that make the BRP so enjoyable. :)

As I come across one of only three gas stations along the length of the Blue Ridge, I decide to stop and top up. I need very little gas but this is too convenient to pass up. In addition, I should now have sufficient range to reach Asheville.

I find a relative crowd of motorcycles at this very small gas station. I meet three riders who are on their way to the rally. They're part of the younger demographic that is still a minority in the BMW rider crowd. We chat a bit. Just hello's, where are you going, what's the road like. They head out before me.

Off in the corner is a lone GS rider on one of those older, relatively rare Paris-Dakar models. He's an older, crotchety type, but friendly enough. Tall, lank, short white hair, and, stiff stubble. He's got fiery eyes and radiates intensity. An older James Coburn comes to mind.

Turns out he lives around here. He's been patiently waiting for the air compressor to build up enough pressure to inflate his front tire. We chat a bit about what it’s like to live in the area and what kind of damage the roads have sustained from some of the harsh spring weather they've been having lately.

He seems to think that we'll all be flooded at the campground. And no, he's not planning on attending.

By the time I pull out, he's still waiting for the compressor to build up pressure.

Bruno
Montreal, Canada