Me, the RV, and the big kitty packed up and left early. The Labor Day travel was easy. Most cars were on major roadways and we were on the back roads. All back roads through Crescent City, across the St. John's River, nearby to Palatka, past Green Cove Springs, and through western Jacksonville, FL. I crossed into Folkston, Georgia on Route 1, and came to rest at the first Walmart parking lot within Waycross, Georgia. I shopped there twice. A man approached the RV asking about the old BMW strapped to the bumper. He's been looking for one and was trying to sell his 1969 Moto-Guzzi 850 Eldorado. It wasn't running properly he said, but he would take 7,000 dollars for it. That didn't seem like much of a deal, and I wasn't quite ready to part with my trusty German steel horse. I slept well. No issues with the motorhome, (moho).
Still without a clear destination, though strongly following a GPS back roads route to Asheville, NC., we rumbled on. Light rain, but no leaks and no issues. There are occasions when traveling that one would is tempted to attend to the rattling of a loose interior object like, say, the grill inside the oven. Or sometimes the blinds in the rear window slip down to obstruct the view. Yes, it's tempting to try to make adjustments while traveling. Did I ever tell the story of an old high school chum who watched my brand new Dodge van sail off the road into the woods? I learned the hard way how difficult it is to steer when not seated behind the wheel of a moving vehicle. I digress, eh?
Asheville has grown. I'd visited earlier this year, and then not for 7 years. West Asheville did not appear to have changed a lot. I met a friend who had recently moved there from Tampa. He showed me the North Carolina Aboretum. We hiked the Hard Times Trail. I could feel the change in elevation. The humidity was far lower. The temperature was cooler. I liked being in Asheville. I parked the RV at the same place I'd camped with the Moto-Guzzi in May this year. Lake Powhatan State Park has some wild advantages. 200 yards from the road to the park is an entrance ramp to the Blue Ridge Parkway. I rode the BMW there everyday. She was at home. The hills are gentle and the curves all carved perfectly through the mountains. She pulled me up Mt. Pisgah one day, and up Mount Mitchell the next. Mitchell was not entirely socked-in, but it was mostly cloudy. The temperature was low 60s with a low of 49 at camp that night. The forty-year-old BMW leaned and purred through every turn. It's a true match between road and machine.
And riding motorcycles was not the grandest treasure. Lake Powhatan is filled with great hiking. There's no camping aside from the parks in the Experimental Forest, but the trails are linked to the Aboretum and the Mountains-to-Sea trail. I put together a tough hike, given my lack of experience with the elevation and terrain, and hiked 5 miles up to the M-to-Sea trail, then 3 miles along it, and then 2 miles back down. Though prepared, I was spent. I slept well.
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