PJ's 2006 RAMBLE

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September 21, 2006

Danville and the BRP

NOTE: I'm composing this in an "internet cafe" in New Orleans to the tune of $5/hr., and updates usually take me 2-3 hours (unbelievable, I know), so I hope you appreciate it. I'm also enduring the sound/smell of nerdy wankers playing Magicke-type games (overheard quotes: "I can spend the Manna and lose only one life to an Unmasked Creature. Plus two because I have an Enchantress. Flying Demon Jester for 20...") and discussing Star Wars bullshit while they hover dangerously too close to my comfort zone and blow cigarette breath into my airspace. I'm way behind in updates, up to my neck in the quicksand of anxiety about how far behind I am, and trying my best not to sink up to the mouth. Unfortunately I don't really know people along the route for most of the rest of the trip and fear that my web access will be even less than before...

As I said in the last post, I picked Danville because it seemed like a good-sized town and had a mention in Classic Country music; also it was late and I was tired of riding in the dark. Normally when I arrive in a strange town, rather than picking the first place I see to eat or stay, I will try to cruise down the main drags to size it up and see the options before me. I turned left off of 58 onto what appeared to be the Main Street of Danville (it was), across a big bridge and up a hill, with the downtown being situated on this hill between the river and the crest. I hadn't seen any motels coming into town from the east and the downtown was *really* quiet for 9pm or so, I didn't see a single tavern or night spot or anyplace with cars parked out front indicating life inside.

On my pass through the 4-5 blocks of downtown I noticed an old-looking (vertical) Hotel, a rarity in this day of low-to-the-ground Hi-Way motor courts and tall chain-motel complexes. In fact this looked like the kind of place people *live* in, what I refer to as a "transient hotel" (Chicago has/had some of these in the marginal areas and formerly had a lot of them in the South Loop before it was all gentrified and loft-ed). I made a mental note of this and drove the main street out and around until it tapered off into nearly countryside, then doubled back and drove the other way through town, across the river again and up the other hill for a few miles, but didn't see any motels. (I didn't go the fourth direction, west on 58, and if I recall from my way out of town there were a couple of them out there, but it doesn't matter now).

So my Danville option was basically this downtown Hotel, the Leeland. I was met outside by a woman who admonished me to "get out of here" and warned me of Danville, simply, "this is a Bad place." It was a little unsettling, she had been there for a couple months, in town because of "the bastard who did this to me" (an injury, she was wearing some kind of sling and looked pretty rough overall), she hated the town with a venom and had nothing good to say of it. Said that there were no jobs there, no hope, only crackheads (in rural VA?) and theives. Despite her warning, after a strange exchange with the odd cat at the front desk (kind of an aging hippie) I checked myself into a room at the Leeland anyway, I think it was $30/night (or $260/month, if you're interested). I hauled my gear up the couple flights of steps (the only exercise I'm getting, really; that goddamn gear is heavy and takes two trips), and went out to see if I could find something to do on the town.

Naturally it was too late to eat and there were no bars or anything (I'd seen one place on the way in with a few people sitting outdoors, but when I returned they'd just closed and there was nobody there at all). Puzzled and a little creeped-out, I explored the town and discovered its HUGE warehouse district, as large as the downtown itself, most of which appeared to be for storing Tobacco...for drying it, I am guessing. So it looks like Danville is/was a tobacco town, which would make sense, as there area lot of tobacco fields within a few hundred miles. On one lonely stretch of the warehouse district I could distinctly smell the amber perfume of tobacco leaves, so it must still be an industry there. There was also a large fabric works on the Dan River, not sure if it's still in business or just a large vacant building, but in any case the sign is still there.

Sufficiently lonesome and on edge, I crossed my fingers, locked my scooter in a really dodgy lot on the other side of the block (fully expecting to be mugged and/or killed on the walk back through the alley) and returned to my room at the Leeland to wash some clothes with my bar soap in the sink. The toilet and shower were down the hall, no TV or phone in the room (though you could call the cable company and have cable put in the room in your name if you were going to be there a while), but I did have a fan. The hallway smelled like a combination of air freshener and sex, and a guy I met in the hall said "hey, you're new here!", to which I replied "I'm just staying for the night." His greeting gave me the sense of being the new guy in a prison or a mental institution. I guess they don't get many one-night guests. Awesome. I draped my wrung-out wet clothes in front of the fan in hopes that they would dry overnight, and they did, about halfway.

I woke up the next day and went out to see if my scooter was still there. By some miracle it sat unmolested, I unlocked it, wheeled it around to the front and brought my gear down. There was a different, but very kindly heavyset fellow working the AM desk and an older couple was decorating the lobby for Halloween. I drove around to take some daytime shots and left Danville, delighted to see a historical marker for the Wreck of the Old 97 (without even searching for it, just dumb luck!) on the way out. What a weird town. Hilly locale, a lot of good buildings still left, with some dilapidated ones, a hint of redevelopment, but just kind of quiet and forgotten overall, with a hint of danger.

I picked up some crap 2-stroke oil at an autoparts store and a spare gas can at a gas station, remembering how few and far-between gas stations were near the Parkway. I continued riding west on 58 for an hour or two until it met the Blue Ridge Parkway at Meadows of Dan, VA. This junction is home of the Poor Farmer's Market, which I'd been to once before with Keiko when we drove back from Asheville to Norfolk on the same route. I stopped in for old time's sake and admired the concept (imagine a slightly more authentic Cracker Barrel, substituting a deli for the restaurant, a little less "oldies" and a little more "bluegrass") but didn't buy anything. I fueled up and hopped on the Parkway, headed south around those hundreds of curves toward North Carolina.

The Blue Ridge Parkway is a LONG black ribbon, something like 400 miles if I recall correctly, and it's a slow-moving road, posted at 45mph. The day I rode it the weather was lovely and I met a lot of other motorcyclists (nobody else on a scooter though, go figure). I had a long ride from Danville to Asheville, over 200 miles and a lot of that in mountains. The Parkway was typically excellent, the perfect road for a scooter with very little traffic this late in the season. I pulled over for photos now and again and stopped at the Blue Ridge Music Center (nice little exhibit with audio you could listen to and a little gift shop, they have concerts there sometimes in-season) but was racing against the waning daylight as I always am.

I nearly ran out of gas (ran through my whole tank and also the spare gas can, noticing that there were more exits/stations around where I got on the Parkway than there were further south) and pulled off just as it got dark, lucky to find a station a few miles off the Parkway. Since it was dark at this point I made the executive decision to get off the Parkway and take 226/221 south to Marion and jump on the Interstate for the last 40-something miles into Asheville. Boring and lame, I know, but really what the hell can you enjoy in the dark on a curvy mountain road, besides the thrill of taking your life into your hands around strange curves and up and down unknown gradients? So the last stretch of the drive was boring and uneventful save for being blown around by big trucks on the expressway. I made it into Asheville and will write about that in the next update.

There's your $13 update, cheers and goodnight. Back to my hostel to sketch out on the thin, well-worn matress and hostelmates (a lot of roughneck workingmen staying there while they rebuild New Orleans, some look a little shady).

Posted by pj at September 21, 2006 11:15 PM

Comments

Posted by: Diane at October 13, 2006 11:39 AM