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Organists, shared shorts and the Blueridge Parkway

Who brings a portable organ camping?

I ask this question because of the minstrel who annoyed us nightly with renditions of hymns on his electric organ/keyboard at the campground in Tellico Plains, Tennessee, where I last left you in the middle of a Whoa! Tale. I am not hostile toward organs, organists or organisms, as the following will prove. But I think there was appropriateness, obviously missed by the camping keyboardist.

After five terrific Tennessee days, it was time to pack up the steeds and head toward the coast. Our destination: Virginia Beach by way of the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Sue, who had been taking it easy riding on the back with Marlin was now anxious about the ride through the Smokies and onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. It links the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia and the Great Smoky Mountains National Park in North Carolina. This 70-year-old parkway started on September 11, 1935 and became the country's first and ultimately longest rural scenic parkway. It is 469 miles (755 km) long. We opted for a portion of this scenic byway to be able to say, "been there, done that". Be sure to visit the website www.blueridgeparkway.org.

An hour out we entered the parkway. Sue had misgivings about the whole idea but reluctantly agreed to give it a go. We started out fine but soon we knew this would be a long, slow day. As we descended the first major climb Sue fell way back and slowed significantly. Our bike sounded amazingly quiet. (unheard of for a Harley). Wayne (my bike and other-things partner) stated he had shut her off and was coasting.

Nevertheless, where was Sue?

Bicycles were passing by us! Wingers were passing too (translation: old folks on Honda Gold Wings.)

Slowly we saw Sue round the corner. She was more than uncomfortable with the curves and drops in elevation. As we started another uphill climb she caught up and we were in- take a breath, second gear. By now we were snickering at the length of time it would take to do the entire parkway. About 25 miles up the road we stopped at a scenic overlook and decided to get off at the earliest opportunity.

The road off the mountain proved to be a formidable one and with thoughts of Deliverance in the backs of our minds we entered Hillbilly country. We followed a rushing rock-laden stream all the way to the bottom. It was apparent that double wides (mobile homes) were the residences of choice and 4X4's were the favoured vehicles.

We arrived at a hamlet and stopped for a large ice cream sundae to cool down as the heat continued to rise. Ok, we giggled- we've ridden the Blueridge!

We discussed our accommodations for the night and all agreed that air-conditioning was a must so tenting was out. We made our stop for the night in Stateville, N.C. After looking through brochures at the hotel we decided to stop in Winston-Salem the following day.

The roots of the city of Salem go back to the group of Moravians who settled in the area in 1753. The name of the first settlement was Der Wachau, "creek along a meadow," later changed to Wachovia. Other settlements soon followed. The town of Salem was founded in 1766.

We arrived early, 8:00 AM to be exact. The historic area was quiet and we noted that most of the stores and buildings would not open until later in the morning. While strolling in our full leather gear we saw a bakery open and ventured in. The staff informed us that they were still closed but the owner/operator of the bakery gave us a terrific summary of the towns' rich beginnings. He suggested we walk to "God's Green Acre" the cemetery of the Morovian religion. After buying some cookies and thanking the gentleman we made our way to the cemetery.

We were almost the only people at the grounds where every grave is the same in size and shape. All were simple, dated and with the names of the deceased on each stone. As we wondered out loud where the earliest stone might be, a student asked if she could help. She showed us around and provided more background. It turns out she was cataloging all the markers for the historical society since many had started to decay with age. She then suggested we visit the chapel since we had questions for her regarding the Morovians that she was unable to answer. After thanking her, off we went. (Remember- still in full leathers!)

While rattling doors at the chapel Marlin found an open door, entered and checked out the organ in front of the chapel. Marlin and Sue are both musicians having studied in Canada and Holland (the organ specifically). See here is where I demonstrate that I am not anti-organist. They both play every Sunday at different churches in town and Marlin makes his living teaching piano and organ, which is why this was so interesting to them.

The morning was still young, we were planning our ride and suddenly the pastor of the church came out to ask if we would like a tour of the main church to see the organ. Did I mention we were in full leathers? Marlin jumped at the chance. I guess four middle-aged people in leathers aren't all that intimidating. So much for the image. Or maybe organists just can't hide their true colours.

As we rode out of Historic Salem, we smiled at the warmth, charm and hospitality we'd experienced. Then we began the long trip to Virginia Beach. The heat was again becoming oppressive. By noon, we had stripped to T-shirts and jeans. It was pushing 120°F (48°C) on the bike's thermometer as we pulled into Virginia Beach Visitor Centre. Susan was suffering from a headache surely on the verge of heat stroke.We crashed on the bench in the foyer. Wayne and Marlin would have to find a campsite while we tried to cool down. It had been a marathon ride to get here and we were not going any further until we knew we had a place to set up camp.

The fellows found a site at the State Park and once again we struggled on the bikes for the last stretch. About 5 miles (8 km) north from the downtown area is Virginia Beach State Park. Once there, we scouted a spot as much in shade as possible. My clothes were stuck to me. Unfortunately, among the four of us, we had only two pairs of shorts. Sue owned one and Wayne the other. Marlin had borrowed Wayne's the day before and (darn it!) today they were mine! I was desperate as Marlin dug them out of his laundry bag. Modesty aside, I ripped my jeans off on the spot and pulled on the shared shorts. I caught Marlin off guard. When you are sizzling you do not care. I ripped off my t-shirt and was down to my sports bra and the big, ugly shorts. Sue came from the ladies room and had changed into her shorts and also fashioned a sports bra. The look however was quite different. About 20 pounds (9 kg) and fitness. She is the fit one and I sport the extra pounds. Must be all that organ playing! We set up camp all the while dripping with sweat and wondering how we would sleep.

Later in the evening, in our shorts and sport bras we rode up and down the strip at Virginia Beach. I was beyond embarrassed but realized I would never see these people again!

Of course, that's probably what the organ player back at the Tennessee campground realized too. Perhaps in an online magazine not far away, he is writing the same words.

We stopped to enjoy the waterfront fireworks display on the boardwalk, listened to bands playing at every corner and then after another ice cream, we found it! The local Harley Davidson shop. We sauntered in and bought our T-shirts.

"Ah hon…" I whispered in Wayne's ear, "another perfect motorcycling day!"

This tale of whoa is not over yet. Stay tuned for Kit's finale.