Lost in the mountains

OUT OF THE TUNNEL AND INTO THE WINTER:
THIS ISN'T FLORIDA; IT'S MT. PISGAH.

REAL ICICLES, NOT THE PLASTIC STRANDS
US FLORIDIANS BUY FOR OUR X-MAS TREES.

Asheville, N.C., is known as "The Land of the Sky,'' and every time I visit, I'm reminded why when I get on my bike. It's one long climb to touch the sky, but my inner sadist can't get enough.


I rode 130 wonderful miles over four days there last week. Thanks to a patient wife, I hit either the road or the dirt in the early, frosty morning hours and completely lost myself. 


Problems? 


What problems? 


Bills? 


What bills? 


Work? 


What's a job? Certainly not riding your bike here.


When we started driving home, it finally hit me this was all over and it was like awakening after one terrific dream. Even now, I can't believe how blissful the entire trip was. I keep reliving parts of it in my mind when lying in bed before sleep.


I rode the Blue Ridge Parkway three times; on the first day, with the temperatures hovering around 29 in South Asheville, I climbed on the Parkway, which was nirvana because parts of it were closed due to inclement weather, went south and didn't stop until reaching Mount Pisgah at 5,700 feet two hours later. I came out of a tunnel with the Mount Pisgah sign staring at me and the road went from damp to covered in snow and ice. So this is what biking in the North Pole must be like, I thought, while stopping to take a couple photos.


Like the true winter novice, when getting back on my bike, I slipped and fell on the ice, busting up my elbow pretty good. 


I probably looked like a doe trapped on the ice, legs sprawled.


On the subject of deer, on the way up I saw about five or six whitetails playing in the road, so I wasn't the only one seizing the day. 


Of course, what goes up, must come down, so I experienced a cool descent down the Parkway, which was unlike anything I've ever done because it was a closed road and could hog the whole surface. When I returned to our cabin, I clocked out at 3 hours, 15 minutes; 42.6 miles, 13.2 mph.


I took one morning to ride off-road at Bent Creek. I'm finally learning my way around and hit more trails than ever. I turned 21.8 miles in a little over two hours, getting on the trail at daybreak. A few of the climbs stung me (especially Ingles Field Gap), but I patiently stayed in the aerobic zone and scaled them. There's something a little unnerving about being all alone in the woods; there's also something about being totally at peace. That's something I experienced in those woods and on the Parkway. 


It's soul-cleansing. 


Ride the sky. 


I did. 

FOG OVER THE VALLEY OFF THE PARKWAY.