RCR 14: Trip Report

Friday: Slept late, leisurely had breakfast and packed up my tank bag (everything else was already packed and on the bike thanks to my personal mechanic and gear guy). Started carting down my riding apparel about 10am, probably left around 10:30. (Leisurely, remember?)

Thursday night, a storm had come through: torrential rain, winds, lightning and thunder. Plus, there was that lovely forecast of a front filled with rain stalling right over the VA/NC area. I am not enthusiastic about riding in the rain. There's also something that's just wrong about starting off with it already raining: it's not nearly so bad when you're riding along minding your own business and then it rains on you.

So I was watching the weather and the skies carefully. It was grey and the air was heavy, but there was no actual rain. So I pulled out of the garage dry, but expecting to see some rain on my way to Willville.

Yeah, some rain.

I had already decided on a short, simple route along NC and VA roads (no interstates, no twisties, but pleasant roads with sweeping curves here and there). My route: up 50/15 from Raleigh to Oxford, 158 west to Yanceyville where I picked up 86 north to Danville. In Danville, I picked up 58 west, which I followed to the campground. 58 is not a very entertaining road for most of VA, but it gets pretty nice when it nears the mountains, and the bit from Stuart to the BRP is quite nice. (8 is even better, but I didn't really want to play on it in the rain, which turned into a good decision.)

I got all the way up to Creedmoor (20-25 minutes, maybe?), and then it started raining. And it rained pretty much non-stop all the way to Willville. It would stop for a few minutes occasionally, but start right back up again. Mostly it was just a steady, soaking rain.

Until just past Stuart when 58 started climbing ... suddenly I was in a cloud. It reminded me of a trip I made to Asheville with Jimmy, Jim, and Tom a couple of Spring Rides ago along the the BRP: Tom, in front, followed the yellow line, and the rest of us followed each other's taillights. When we could see them.

This fog was just pea soup, with visibility measured in feet (and not a large number of them). And, of course, this was where I also got the heaviest downpour, riding through water streaming across the tilted road surface. The road had been repaved very recently, and was in excellent shape: in good weather, that would have been a dreamy ride. I kept passing those temporary orange signs that said "Unmarked pavement ahead". Since the only thing that was keeping me on the road was the yellow line, I kept up a constant prayer that it wouldn't go away. Lucky me, they had actually finished the painting and just hadn't removed the signs yet. I inched along through the fog, eyes glued to where the yellow line disappeared into the mists. There were two cars following me, and I honestly wished one of them would come up close and indicate a desire to pass: I'd let him by in a hearbeat, just so I could have some taillights in addition to the yellow line. But no, they kept a respectful distance behind me, and even dropped back further and further as I crawled up the road.

Strangely, the fog disappeared shortly before I reached the BRP, and then started closing in again just as I passed the entrance to Willville. Yes, I had to turn around on a curve under construction in rain and fog because even at the slow speed I had been going, looking for the entrance I knew was right around there somewhere, I still missed the sign pointing the way. The orange barrels distracted my attention from the sign, I guess.

At any rate, I pulled in and pointed myself down the gravel-water path. Not my favorite thing on the Kawasaki, but I was blessing my lovely new tires that made such a difference in traction. I pulled in right by the tent and saw the welcoming face of Tom peeking out the tent waiting for me because he'd heard and recognized my bike. :^)

We got my gear off the bike and into the tent quickly, and discovered he'd packed it so well, not a thing had a drop of water on it. My tank bag was pretty damp, but I'd packed everything inside in baggies anyway. My aerostitch was soaked. My t-shirt collar was damp, but otherwise I was dry. Even my hiking boots, which were soaked on the outside, were still dry on the inside.

He and some others had just arrived from a trip to Mt. Airy in search of a new handlebar for John and a pork sandwich from the Snappy Diner. No handlebar, but the sandwiches were good as always. I had skipped lunch, because stripping my wet gear and pausing somewhere dry would have negatively affected my willingness to get back into the wet gear and on the bike in the rain. I envied them their pork sandwiches.

The rain petered out and more people arrived through the afternoon and evening, and I got caught up with the first two road incidents. On the way up Thursday, John had high-sided his Bandit on a gravel road. He'd broken the shift lever, but carried an extra that he replaced on the side of the road. The left bar was serisouly bent down, leading to an awkward angle compared to the right, still in place. The fairing was banged up and the tank had a dent and some scratches. John had a huge bruise on his leg below the knee. He said it had been a goose-egg Thursday, but by Friday afternoon it was just a huge painful bruise. Overall, not bad considering the circumstances.

Jon (there were many Jo(h)ns at this RCR) had dropped his VFR, on his foot unfortunately. He spent Friday evening alternately icing it and wrapping it up for warmth. He limped all weekend, and said if it didn't feel better in a couple of days, he'd have it checked out. The VFR wasn't badly damaged: his fot cushioned it.

The Willville campground rocks. We pitched our tent near the babbling brook. The grounds are surrounded by thick mountain forest. The only other sounds is the traffic from 58, and the rain drowned out most of that. The pavillion was wonderful: large and dry. It made for the perfect gathering spot, and gear and clothing was draped all around most of the weekend, drying.

He's got coffee, snacks, cokes, and even a stackable washer-dryer; he asks a reasonable price for all of them, on the honor system (place your change in the appropriate coffee can). He brings in fresh chicken and sausage buscuits for breakfast (included with your camping fee). The showers had plentiful extremely hot water.

As we were sitting around Friday afternoon, trying to decide what to do about dinner, our host said there was a pizza place just up the road. If we came up with the money, he'd call in the order and go get the pizzas. That was an easy call: we all pitched in $5 and had a pizza feast.

Friday evening and through the night, we had no rain, and Saturday morning cleared out. Blue sky! Sunlight! Wet, wet riding gear! It was, however, merely a break in the clouds. People who went out either dodged the rain and clouds (the lucky few) or rode in and out of sun and downpours. Around lunchtime at the campground, it started raining and simply rained all day and all night. It would stop occasionally for a while, but start up again. Usually it was pretty light: under the trees, you'd only get dripped on. Once in a while, it was heavy for a few minutes.

Again, the pavillion was the gathering spot during the afternoon as people started streaming in (so to speak) from morning rides and new arrivals. For most of the late afternoon and evening, the rain mostly stopped. Dinner arrived promptly.

One more incident Saturday: Mark slipped and went wide in a turn, glancing off the back of a pickup truck. One of his frame sliders ripped teh radiator hose, but it was repaired on-site with the help of people who had stopped. Mark was unhurt, but his bike was a bit banged up. That was the last incident of the weekend, though. Not bad considering the wet conditions: everyone rode away.

Kudos to Pou: the campsite was great, and the dinner was delicious. Pork tenderloin hand-rubbed with seasonings and very juicy. Potato salad, pasta salad with broccoli and other veggies, and baked beans. And some sort of yummy layered bar thingy for dessert.

The evening went much as usual: we had fire to gather around, and bikes to gather around. Stories of past RCRs, other trips, bike maintenance, etc. Except for a few hardier souls, we seem to retire for the night earlier and earlier every year. I went to bed aroun 11:30, and there were fewer than 10 left. Within 15 minutes of my laying down in the tent, the rain started again, with a vengeance. It poured all night long. At least it was pouring every time I woke up, and it was still pouring in the morning as people started packing up to leave. Tom and I weren't in any particular hurry, as we had planned on the following my quick, easty route back down to home. We watched people pack up and leave in the rain. As we started our own packing, the rain lightened and then stopped. When we finally left, the rain had stopped, although it was still overcast. I figured we had a ride back home that would pretty much match my ride up.

We had light rain as we descended 58, but none of the impenetrable fog of Friday. In fact, I was amazed at how glowingly bright that yellow center line really was! I could barely see it Friday, but Sunday it really looked like the brand new paint it was.

Past Martinsville, we stopped for gas. Ahead of us was a solid dark gray that swallowed everything: we were going to get dumped on. Strangely, when we left five minutes later, it had disappeared. We rode all the way home under gray skies, but with only minimal drizzling now and then. Some of the roads were even drying out.

It did rain at home later, but we were inside and didn't care anymore.

So, how was the trip? I figure if I describe it to any of my co-workers, family, and non-riding friends, they'll determine I had a lousy trip.

I had a great time. Yes, the weather sucked. But it sucked for all of us, and there's a certain amount of fun to be had in the communal bitching. More than, though, is that we're a group of bikers who ride a lot and sometimes we get wet. The group consensus seemed to be, better the rain than the 100+ degree temperatures from a week ago.

So, thanks to Oompah Pou, thanks to Willville, thanks to the caterer, and thanks to a great group of people who made the trip fun. See y'all next year!