This Sh*t Smells Like Roses

Saturday morning @ Taylor Ranch, NC

Overland East event

Outside, a torrent is happening. Heavy rains and thunder and fierce winds batter the shell of my makeshift quarters.

Yesterday I awoke in a warm cabin at Willville. Today I find myself hunkered down, bunker-style, at Overland East. This event is being held at Taylor Ranch, just SE of Asheville, NC. So far, only the date and location are different about this East-side rep as compared to May's blustery, cold and rainy- but quite wonderful despite all that- western event.

A sign of things to come

Yesterday had started out well enough. Will and I moseyed into town for a hearty country breakfast, over which we waxed philosophical on life and what it means to be a motorcyclist, when suddenly a voice chimed in-

"You heard they're closing rt58, right?" Said a local woman about the main road through town. "They're concerned about the rains causing a washout."

"Anybody would be silly to travel anywhere this weekend," comes another voice, "best to just hunker down, and wait it out." Good advice, but not taken.

Back at the cabin, a break in the rain afforded me an opportunity to depart.

With a good night's rest, a filling breakfast, and a desire to get some miles under me, I pointed the laiden rocketship towards the parkway and continued south. Asheville and the Overland East event was my day's destination, and I was going to have to make decent time to arrive before the gate closed at 7pm.

"Come for the views," they said.

All was going well; the rains and winds were mostly steady, the fog manageable. Leaves and debris on the road required extra vigilance on my part, and the few other drivers presented no issues.

Taking a break at one of the many convenient stops along the parkway

At my first rest stop, after a run of about a hundred miles, I met a photography artist named Greg from St Louis. Greg helped me right the motorcycle after I foolishly dropped the heavy beast in the parking lot when I stalled trying to pull out. Now, I have put down the awkwardly weighted bike in parking lots before, but this time it was almost comical how it not only went down on its side, but rolled over some, as if to go full turtle on me in an effort to say, "I'm done!"

Unfortunately, my right saddlebag mount was in fact finished, as was indicated by the tinging sound of the broken metal piece bouncing across the pavement. A well placed motorcycle strap was employed as repair.

I then attempted to start the bike, and it would not. After checking the starter switch wires for damage due to the fall, but before unloading the bike to gain access to the fuse box, I considered that the neutral safety switch may be engaged. Bingo, the bike had still been in gear when I dropped it.

Another hundred miles, and I was ready for break number two, this time at the Craggy Gardens visitor center, where I kept company with a park ranger and a roaring little wood stove.

"The mountain vistas are just spectacular," they said.

"Have you heard, they're closing the parkway tonight about six. Won't reopen until Monday, likely," the ranger informed me, "on account of the rains and rockslides and mudslides." I looked at the time; it was already after four. Better get moving.

I arrived at the overlanding event in time to enter and setup camp, but my gut was telling me to stay in town and return in the morning. I've learned over the years that my gut is damn near 100% accurate. However, my ability to heed it is probably closer to 75%. Tonight would find me in that 25th percentile.

Problem no 1, mud. Everywhere was mud. Venture anywhere off of the thin gravel road and I knew I would have a challenge with my street-oriented bike.

Problem no 2, "no attachments to trees." I had brought my simplified hammock stand for just such a situation, but with the already soft ground and expected rains, I wasn't feeling confident in its ability to stay anchored.

Problem no 3, it was now after 7, the entry gates were closed and locked, and darkness was settling in.

Fortunately, the volunteer coordinator had a solution.

"Here's the deal," she said, "you can bunk in the back of this Uhaul."

Dubious, I investigated. To my pleasant surprise, I discovered that not only was this big box going to provide adequate shelter, but also plenty of room for me to air out my wet gear. And, the cargo bars mounted to the walls would make for suitable hammock anchors. Ah, yes, I decided. This will make a fine Expo home.