Motorcycle Trip - Day 5: End of the Parkway & Skyline Drive

Day 5 - September 2:  Labor Day -- The End of the Parkway and the Skyline Drive

The driving rain from the previous night had cleared and the fifth day of our journey -  Labor Day - broke in Bedford, Virginia with brilliant sunshine.

Wisps of fog; starting final day on Blue Ridge Parkway

My riding companion Steve Winters and I loaded our bikes up with a mixture of excitement and just a tinge of sadness.  Excitement in that we knew this was the day we would complete all 469 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway and ride the entire 105 miles of the Skyline Drive.  But there was also the reality that this day marked the real end of the adventure.  By days end, we will have completed the ride that Steve had dreamed about for more than 40 years.  

Tomorrow it would be the day after Christmas.  

Looking for a McDonalds or some similar fast food place for breakfast, we stumbled on a Huddle House restaurant.  The waitresses were pure southern charm, and the food was much better than we expected.  We ate omelets and shared a pecan waffle (sugar free syrup).  Then it was off to find our way back to the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Overlook near end of Blue Ridge Parkway

Steve was directionally challenged, something he readily admitted.  He was largely dependent upon the feminine voice in his ear from his GPS unit.  And although he complained about it vigorously, he relied on it for getting him almost anyplace.

On the other hand, I abhor GPS units.  Thanks to my mother and dad, I have an inherent sense of direction.  I have a built in compass that points north without fail.  I may take a quick look at a map -- I did so twice on the entire 1,763 miles of our trip - but my usual practice is to figure out where I am, where I am going, and point the bike in that general direction.  If I'm going northwest, I'll ride for a while going north, then find a road headed west.  And I end up where I was going - without fail.

With some vague directions from the waitress and cooks at the Huddle House ("You go down to the four lane, then when you get to a big yeller house, you turn right, till you cross the crick, then you go left . . . "), we headed with me in the lead to find our way the 20 miles or so to the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Because heading back the way we came would result in us backtracking some 20 miles, we headed north. 

Bedford is a gorgeous old south town with stately homes and quiet streets.  We passed a few people out for early morning walks or jobs.  Some waived.  Then we were into the rolling rural countryside, heading north toward the Peaks of Otter and the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Wildflowers along Parkway

On our trip we had dealt with heat, fog, and rain, but this last morning was perfection.  We rode through the morning coolness, gradually rising toward the mountains.  At Peaks of Otter, we reentered the Parkway.  It was the place where I camped on my previous motorcycle trip to the Parkway two years earlier.  It was comforting to recognize the area - to see something familiar after so many days on road that was all new.

Eighty-five miles left.

The Parkway was splendid in its early morning coat.  Ghosts of thin fog floated across stretches of the road, punctuated by bright shafts of sunlight cutting through the tall oaks, hickory, ash and occasional pines.  Wildflowers in yellow and purple carpeted the roadside.  In places the towering trees formed a canopy over the pavement, still dark and damp from condensation left behind by morning fog. 

At an overlook we stopped and looked out over the valley below, taking it in.  There was a sense of trying to absorb all of this.  Steve was candid about this on our way home.  He was certain this was his last time on a motorcycle on these roads.  We did not know how prophetic that was.

Steve Winters (right) & Me, Skyline Drive

As the sun rose higher, the fog disappeared and we were left with a glorious late summer day, just cool enough in the mountains for perfect motorcycle riding.

As we started the last 10 miles of the Parkway, I pointed out the mileposts to Steve.  There was a strong sense of accomplishment as we moved through those last miles -- 10,  then 7,   then 4,  then 2, then finally the last mile marker. And the end.  Just after noon, we finished the Parkway.


Somehow I expected there to be a "Congratulations!  You've Just Ridden the Blue Ridge Parkway" sign.  But there wasn't.  In fact, there wasn't even a sign saying "End of Blue Ridge Parkway."  Instead, the road just continued, crossing an overpass above a 4-lane highway, then a sign: "You Are Entering Shenandoah National Park" with the entry fee schedule.  

No trumpets.  No banners.  Nothing. But we had done it.  We had ridden 469 miles from the Great Smokey Mountains National Park to the Shenandoah National Park.

We stopped for gas and lunch.  We talked a bit, but not really about accomplishing the ride of the Blue Ridge Parkway.  There were still too many miles in front of us.

Back on our bikes, we started the Skyline Drive.  The Skyline Drive is the road that runs through the center of Shenandoah National Park, twisting and turning 105 miles along the top of the Shenandoah Mountains.  

Overlook, Skyline Drive

Unlike stretches of the Blue Ridge Parkway which were at times nearly deserted, the Skyline Drive is a favorite holiday destination for the metropolitan Washington D.C. area.  Throughout the Skyline Drive, traffic was moderate to heavy.  Overlooks that on the Blue Ridge Parkway would seldom have more than one car - and often none - were filled with half a dozen or more cars.  

But the views from the Skyline Drive are simply awe-inspiring.  To the west is the Shenandoah Valley, stretching as far as one can see.  To the east is Virginia's rich Piedmont area, filled with farms and small towns.  The view painted with shades of green,marked by streams and weaving pavement, accented with the shadows from billowing white clouds gently moving across the sky like a fleet of durigibles. 

Me at overlook, Skyline Drive

At one overlook we met a young couple from Pennsylvania spending the day on the Skyline Drive.  He was a trucker, but no longer.  He decided the long days on the road were not what he wanted for his life.  I pulled out my camera and took a few photos.  I was ready to put the camera away when he suggested I take one more - of them kissing with the Shenandoah Valley as the backdrop.

We also met an older couple - at least in their mid-70s.  They were from Colorado, riding their motorcycle on a 4-week trip through the east, riding roads they had heard about but never traveled before.  Steve and I talked to them for perhaps 20 minutes, talking and looking out over the beauty of the valley below.

Wildflowers & Piedmont, near end of Skyline Drive

The woman particularly was a delight.  With an impish smile, she explained how they had gotten packing and traveling by motorcycle down to a science.  "I don't have to travel with all the stuff I used to.  And he says he doesn't mind seeing me in the same clothes," she said.  "As long as I have my rain suit, I'm good to go."    They had enough to go seven days between stops at local laundromats -- two pair of jeans, underwear and shirts for seven days -- and no makeup bag.  

Souvenirs?  Yes, they buy them, mostly for their grandchildren.  But they don't travel with them.  They just ship them home.

Busy bee, Big Meadow - Skyline Drive

The one thing I can't explain is why I didn't get a photo of them.  I took over 650 photos on the trip , but I didn't get one of them.  It's my one regret from the trip.

Steve and I stopped at Big Meadow for a while.  We took in the vast expanse of the tall grasses and scrub bushes that cover the meadow, but we passed on hiking.  There were still too many miles to go.


We rode the final 50 miles of the Skyline Drive, stopping at occasional overlooks to take in the view, knowing these would be the last overlooks of our trip.  Shortly after 5 pm we exited the Skyline Drive to the town of Front Royal.  It was done. The Tail of the Dragon, the Blue Ridge Parkway, the Skyline Drive.  They were all behind us.

End of the road. Last tunnel, Skyline Drive

All that was left was the trip home.

We got our bearings in Front Royal, and headed home.  We headed out toward Cumberland, Maryland, mostly riding 4-lane highways and I-68.  We chased the setting sun through the indescribable beauty of the hills northern Virginia and Western Maryland.  Green mountains opened into vast valleys, then rolled into mountains again. 

As we rode, the sun setting in our visors, the mountains turned deep purple.  With dark coming quickly upon us, we stopped at a Best Western in Cumberland.  A nearby Pizza Hut was good for a late dinner.  The food was slow in coming, but neither Steve nor I minded.  It gave us time to talk.  To reflect on what we had done.  And to celebrate with a couple of beers. 

Why we ride: 
Steve Winters on Skyline Drive

The candor of Autumn, the young waitress serving us, made the experience worthwhile.  "The salad bar is crap," she said in response to my inquiry.  "I wouldn't pay for it.  I don't eat it, and I get it free."

Steve and I both laughed, and gave her a bit extra with her tip.

It was over - but not quite.  Left in front of us was the road home.