Thursday, October 15, 2009

DAY 3...







Slept late, missed breakfast. Almost everyone in the camp was gone for the day, the old guys tend to get up earlier. We decided we would ride the "Snake" via Rt 421 into Tennessee, then head to Ashville, NC for dinner. This would turn out to be another extremely long day of riding.
Riding "the Snake" was an exhilarating yet humbling experience. I realized how little I know about the dynamics of motorcycle riding. The constant downshifting, allowing the the engine to slow you down, upshifting. Always watching for oncoming traffic, watching for road hazards (oils slicks, roadkill, rocks). Peter, who is by far a more experienced rider than I went ahead and carved through the endless "S" curves and tight corners. I've never experienced roads like these, one side mountain wall, the other a steep drop off and no buffer or rails to protect you. The scenery is amazing, yet I had no time to look or take pictures, eyes fixated on the road ahead. For hours nothing but pure concentration, one bad move and you eat it. Visibility was low due to all the curves, one after another. I was happy when it was over. Not my favorite type of riding, especially when my bike kept bottoming out on every turn. I even scraped my engine bars while taking a turn too tight. Looks cool while you're riding, but bad for the chrome....
We stopped at a cross roads were we found a local "diner" biker hangout, full of Harley's, assorted japanese racing bikes and guys in full leathers. We had the only BMW's. It was great to catch my breath. From there we decided to headed south from Tennessee to Ashville, North Carolina for dinner. We set the GPS and headed for The Grove Inn, one of the oldest hotels in in North Carolina.
As the sun went down the temp dropped. I put on my rain gear to help protect me from the wind. We arrived at the Grove expecting to eat dinner. The building was amazing, kind of what I would expect from a mountain inn. Oversized stone fireplaces, rocking chairs, lots of tourists, a guy playing James Taylor cover songs at the bar, roaming bridal parties. Not really my scene. Peter and I sat amongst all the chaos, had a martini and discussed our next move. From my phone I googled the keywords "ashville restaurant hipster" and "The Admiral" came up. I read some brief reviews, when the words "foie gras" came up I knew I had found the right place. We pounded our drinks and headed off.
On the west side of Ashville, The Admiral was exactly the kind of place my wife and I would eat at in Williamsburg. The building was unassuming, even kind of divey. It looked like it was a converted garage. The crowd was an eclectic mix of young and old. We sat at the bar which over looked the kitchen prep area. The menu looked great, almost half of what they had was sold out (frustrating, but a good sign). I settled on the bangers and mash, peter had the pork chop. I ordered the wrong thing..... the pork chop came 2 inches thick with a side of sauteed greens, looked incredible. My plate was prepared well, but nothing compared to the pork. I had some serious food envy. I washed it down with a well priced bottle of Tuscan red, all was right again. Peter talked shop with the bartender, who himself owned a motorcycle. This meal was probably the best of the trip, and we had been eating pretty well! With a nice warmth going from the wine, I geared up, piling on as many layers as I had. I set the GPS for the camp, we headed out into the night stopping once for gas and beer. It was still a cold, damp ride.
We made it back to the camp, no campfire to greet us, everyone was a sleep. I opened a can of beer, had 2 sips and put on a DVD. I was asleep before the opening credits rolled.

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