Late Winter Death Trip to WNC

The weather was supposed to be nice for my first trip to the mountains to really try out the VFR. However it didn't really turn out that way.

I spent two nights in Hot Springs, NC at the Iron Horse Station (there are two Iron Horses in NC - the campground in Stecoah, and the Iron Horse Station in Hot Springs). The Iron Horse Station is named not for motorcycles but for trains, but that doesn't stop it from being a great place to base a trip. Rooms start at $65 per night and are way cooler than a holiday inn. The rooms sit above a nice bar and restaurant - not a biker-type, rowdy place, but more like a bistro. There's no "scene," just a nice place to relax and eat. The rooms don't have TV's or phones, and most have skylights instead of windows. Perfect for me - I like to ride motorcycles by day and read books by night. http://www.theironhorsestation.com/

I rode up on Friday afternoon, arriving around 5:30 pm from my home in West Columbia, SC. There are several fun ways to get to HS but I took the most direct. My feet were really getting cold at 34 degrees F outside, but my heated vest and gloves, and insulated pants, kept the rest of me warm. Little did I know how attractive 34 degrees would seem the next morning.

Saturday I had coffee and granola in the cafe next door and headed out into a cold, gray morning. It was about 29 degrees, but it was only 9:30 am - surely things would warm up?

I took Hwy 25/70 east out of town, towards the crossroads of Hurricane, then left onto 208 for my first time on that road. 208 is a beautiful, rural road that parallels a winding tributary of the French Broad river, rising from about 1600 feet at the intersection of 25/70 to 3000 feet at the highest.

At 3000 feet, it was 21 degrees outside. I was having fun, but at 21 degrees a young man's thoughts turn to survival. My feet were very cold, but the heated gear did its work and kept me going. I need better boots, or more sense.

From 208 I turned right onto 212, then right again onto 352 into Ernestville, Tennessee, where it was a balmy 29 degrees. I passed a really beautiful, snowy waterfall somewhere in there. Then I took Spivey Mountain Road/US19W east, back into NC. This is a fun, remote, very rural road that lead all the way down to 19E, familiar territory, which took me to Burnsville for lunch. The temp gauge read 31 on the VFR as I pulled head-first into a slightly downhill parking spot - classic mistake, for which I paid dearly come kickstand-up time.

Lunch break.

Let me take a moment to point out that not only was I the only motorcycle on the road the entire trip, I drew looks like I was Evel Knievel just starting his run up to the ramp (the VFR Anniversary red, white and blue color scheme notwithstanding). The waitress at the Garden Deli looked at me like I was a space alien.

After lunch I headed for Asheville to look at boots at MR Motorcycles, a truly awesome bike dealership. They didn't have any warmer boots for me, but they have some incredible deals on new bikes, so if you're looking, you might want to check them out. They have all kinds of gear on sale too. Asheville was downright hot at 42 degrees, and the sun was out. It was a pretty day.

Let me also point out that weather.com said it would be highs in the mid-50's in Hot Springs all weekend.

From Asheville I headed out of town on New Leicester ("Lester") Highway, and made the left onto Newfound Road, an extremely fun and scenic motorcycle road, which comes out in Canton, NC, on I-40. I headed one exit farther west on 40 and gassed up, then made a right at the light onto Thickety Road, a tight, twisty residential/farm road. At this point the sky began to darken, as Thickety Road turned into Crabtree Mountain Road.

The elevation began to rise, and the temperature began to fall. I rose as high as 3600 feet, and temps fell into the 20s again. At this point the road surface turned into pea gravel on asphalt, probably a de-icing measure. With zero traction, I climbed the twisty ribbon of asphalt and horror at bicycle speed, the 500lb VFR wearing my forearms and wrists slap out.

Then things got interesting.

A lone Subaru Outback and I made our way up and turned right onto 209, towards Hot Springs, and my deluxe walk-in shower. I began to see more and more snow on the ground and in the trees as we climbed. We reached an altitude of about 3800 feet, and it began to snow. It snowed and snowed, harder and harder, falling onto the asphalt. The temperature gauge read 29, then 28, then 27, then 26, until I was sure the wet pavement must be icing up soon. I studied the road surface, looking for the glassy reflection of ice.

The road meandered along the mountainsides, with a steep drop to the left, and a steep hillside to the right. I came around a bend at about 25 mph, and there it was - a drift of snow that had fallen from the hillside and spilled across 3/4 of the roadway, lying about 4 inches deep, and about 10 feet across. There was no time to stop. There was no time to swerve. There was no time to brake - indeed, that would be suicide. There was only time to pray - out loud, in a calm voice - "God, help me, please help me through this. Please, Lord." - and I was through. I was immediately embarrassed. "I know it's been a while, God. Sorry about that whole atheism thing. I'm still finding myself."

The snow fell, and I kept on, through Luck, NC, and Trust, NC, past the cool gas station, following the river, following the river, up and down, through the misting snow, tired, cold, scared, and fully alive, I went round and round the bends towards my temporary home.

As I neared Hot Springs, the sun briefly came out, and it stopped snowing. It was 32 degrees as I rolled down Bridge Street, stopping at the entrance to the Iron Horse, and shutting down the VFR.

If you know you're going to make it home, it's not really an adventure, is it?

The Route:

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