Burnsville
North Carolina
June 2015
We cross the Continental Divide and the Blue Ridge Parkway on North Carolina Route 80, the Devils Whip, and turn left to Albert’s Lodge, our new temporary home. At least for a night or two while we summit Mount Mitchell.
Our room is comfortable at Albert’s Lodge, or Albert’s Motel, I never determine which one it is for sure, could be either. Check-in takes place in a room which is more bicycle shop than lodging office. In fact, it is a bicycle shop, overflowing with gear, bicycles, clothing and accessories, bicycle sculptures and bicycle-themed pictures and posters on the wall. The guy behind the counter is checking in some customers while Lisa and I wander around the merchandise. As a passionate biker, Lisa likes what she sees.
The couple before us finishes, it’s our turn. I say, “Are you Albert? You seem to have a handle on things.”
“Nope,” he says. “Albert is retired. He lives in that house over there. He’s done with the business. He watches TV, plays with the grandkids and goes fishing. He’s happy.”
Later, when we walk past Albert’s house to a restaurant, there are two dogs, two cats and two kids in the yard. Also a number of fishing poles leaning against a shed. Yep. Retirement.
“If you’re not Albert, who are you?” I ask the counter guy. I think he might be Albert’s son.
“I’m Van. And this is Gaia.” He indicates the Labmaraner (Labrador retriever/Weimaraner hybrid) who just walked in. Gaia licks our hands. I think Gaia’s tongue was our background check.
Later, Lisa and I are hanging out in our ground floor room, doors and windows open. Gaia lopes in and says hello by introducing herself, and her tongue, to us. Again. Friendly pooch.
Groups of people are hanging around the facility, doing bicycling preparations. They are dressed in their polyester, polyester/lycra blend or Lycra® spandex biking shorts and colorful shirts. I ask Lisa, “What’s the deal with the gaudy bike shirts? It’s like bad taste on wheels.”
Lisa explains to me, “When you’re on a bike, you want to be seen. Being seen means less chance you will get hit by a car or truck. The brighter, the better. Especially on the Devils Whip.”
To that I say, “Shine on!”
Clearly Albert’s is a mecca for two-wheelers. At dusk, I see Van, with his faithful dog Gaia at his side, working in the dim light of his garage-cum-bicycle shop, bending over the bench, focused. Single bulb, stars above, old master.