The pavement was a respite, a moment to relax for a short period, and although not what I came to ride, at least it wasn’t a surface that could put the hurt on ya every other time you blinked. Shifting through the gears, dumping the fuel, I had pulled back on the ol’ slingshot, let ‘er go, snap, and I was launched farther south.
I had been riding hard for eight hours, a food break, and I saw fatigue on the horizon, dark clouds, looming like a weather front I needed to outrun. No mystery to this curving road as CR3 took me down to 33, then southwest to Brandywine, no stops, and I was south on CR21.
Riding south on CR21, still on pavement, past the Navy communication facility to the west, yup, I wondered myself what the Navy was doing so far from blue water, but since pork comes in so many flavors, heck, you get the general idea. No one expected it would become a Superfund Site within a NF boundary.
The CR24, or Little Fork road angles off on the left, well graded gravel to start, through pasture, and then past another reservoir, water level very low.
Well graded, no kidding, but that would change in another mile when the road entered the undeveloped part of the GW National Forest.
The road crosses Little Fork Run three times before connecting to CR25, paved this season. Today these crossing were showing about 14” of water, some velocity, and can get tricky in higher water flows. I stopped for a photo and to pick a line, gassed it, spray flying, and by the third crossing I was downright wet.
The Park Service paved CR25, Moyer’s Gap, this spring, had a whole bunch of people scratching their heads on the need for pavement here on this low traffic seasonal road, and in the context of the Park Service being flat broke. Now folks can go really fast, switchbacks, blind corners, no shoulders, I see wrecks, plenty of wrecks, motos too.
Southeast on CR25, then south on the CR61 gravel. This road, including links with a number of others, was my last southbound section today.
I had connected to part of this route earlier this spring when running northbound, but had never started the road from CR25 south. CR61 was another road that had seen some recent maintenance, but with bank run material, and the road was rough in comparison to graded gravel, the numerous small water crossings dry.
The road took me past Flesher Run where the Park Service bought out a small farm within the GW boundary, a common practice, often very controversial if the property was taken through an eminent domain provision to complete the sale.
The road gradually improves the farther south I ride, some use, but I was alone in here today, no deer either.
I found myself out of the woods and into a small clearing, time for a stop, take a break, not sure whether this little area had been clear cut or burned.
I caught a flash of moving vehicle through the trees, surprised me, but I was at the intersection with CR32, Shenandoah Mountain.
I turned north, still on gravel. CR32 connected to CR30, south again, then 620 westbound, where I passed an old borrow pit, very late, had to stop anyway.
I had crossed the border again on 620, now back in Virginia, the country opening to pasture, and I was soon down to 614, the valley road running back north to the border, becoming CR21, remember that one?
I had just spent a very long time on roads to a destination that would have taken 20 minutes on pavement to the same spot, but ain’t that why we ride. The 614/CR21 winds through a very appealing valley, I end of the road for some fortunate early settlers, the south fork branch of the Potomac follows alongside this road.
Down to the intersection with 250 and one of those defining turns I’ve mentioned in previous reports. After riding south almost all day, I was making the turn east, and inbound, an all out race for home…except for food and fuel.
I was in a big freakin’ hurry coming down off the mountain, had to grab a bunch of brake in the corners a few times, oh well, I ain’t that good these days, and when I ended up at my country store at the intersection with Deerfield Valley, the TKCs looked like I had been cookin’, at least a little.
This store is usually a north/south stop for me, not east/west, but it works the same, fuel, and the best greasy food anywhere around. I had been on a grease and caffeine diet all day long, why quit now. The bike got premium, I had plans.
Double cheeseburger and onion rings, 1000 calories with dripping aromatic lard, black coffee, diet Mountain Dew for buzzy hydration, and I was thinking about dessert when I decided to make a little conversation with a group of bear chase dudes, just in to replenish their beer coolers. Bad idea, the worst spontaneous idea I’d had in a damn long time.
I had forgotten that the bear boys think they enjoy exclusive rights to the back roads, some of the gravel roads I had just crossed, so let me put it this way, it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. See ya out there boys, rude behavior finds no favor with me.
Time to go again, and I’d left the bike pointed east on purpose, I was going to end the riding day in an all out sprint, driving lights blazing, all lit up, I’m betting you don’t want me tailgating…but one last stop on the way, to sort of close out the Starbuckistan loop. Has anyone noticed, these consulates are, like, everywhere. OMG!
THE END