As previous posts have detailed I spent significant time in Cherokee, NC during my first month at the new job. Cherokee is an hour west of the riding that one conjures up in their head when you talk about North Carolina. I had one last trip to make to Cherokee, on a Monday, out and back. But I'm a schemer. And scheme I did. Brevard is well out of my way, but its still en route. Why not take off Sunday, ride, camp at one of the roadside sites, and make my way to Cherokee in the morn?
Pisgah. What can be said? Honestly, where do I even begin? If you’re reading this, chances are you ride mountain bikes. If you ride mountain bikes, chances are you’ve heard of Pisgah. What is this mysterious place, the Pisgah? I’m a sucker for history, I love learning about the history of my passions. Mainstream mountain biking would have you believe if it weren’t for some long haired hippies in California on old clunkers we wouldn’t have this sport. And while there is some truth to that, it can easily be said that ever since there was the bicycle people have been taking them off of the paved roads. And Pisgah, just so happens to be one of those places people started venturing into the woods.
On one of my many drives home from Cherokee I decided to stop and play in the Grandfather District of the Pisgah National Forest. This ride was the perfect after work stop because it was about 5 minutes off of I-40. This meant I wouldn't put extra miles on a company truck and after waking at 4am, driving three hours, working a full day, and driving home, a quick easy ride was all I needed.
I've seen this place in my dreams before. All of it. The water. The trails. The beer. The people. I never knew it actually existed, out there in reality. When I first interviewed for jobs here in the Queen City (Charlotte, NC) it was the common thread of where people told me to go. Something you could tell they were proud of, and a place they knew a type like me belonged.
I'm talking about the U.S. National Whitewater Center. An Official training ground of the United States Olympic Team, situated about 20 minutes outside of downtown Charlotte on the banks of the Catawba River. The USNWC boasts a high ropes course, 30 miles of singletrack trail (more coming), two man made whitewater channels, the Catawba River, climbing walls, and a beer garden/restaurant. During the summer months you can mosey on over one Thursday or Saturday evening and find the Riverjam Series in full swing, a free outdoor concert and plenty of good craft beer to boot. Contrary to good decision making I took the quick ten minute drive over to Balm Boyette Scrub Preserve. Another of SWAMP's trail systems. I chugged near a gallon of water, had a quick sandwich, and felt like I might have the energy to tick the area off the list.
I had wanted to do these two rides with the one day I had and I was determined. Balm Boyette sadly has a nearly two mile gravel road ride in, not fun when I was already feeling the heat and humidity and my legs were groaning. I swung south to hit Northwest and Northeast, part of what locals call the quadrant (guess the other two). I still say it wrong to this day. It just doesn't look like the way those Floridians pronounce it. Kayla had to work and the closest riding was two hours north at Alafia State Park. The trails here were built and maintained by the SWAMP club. Like Santos this was a state run facility with a campground for those who can stay and make a trip of it.
Here the day use fee was a whopping $4, not bad for some fantastic singletrack. The parking area is again a haven for riders. Pump and tools, water, bike wash station, toilets, etc. What more could I ask for? Finally. I spent two weeks with my lovely girlfriend in south Florida, including trips to the Everglades and Key West (entries to come soon) only to return to Charlotte to finalize my apartment setup. But, having a week before I actually started work, the mind was wandering. Do I head to the mountains and backpack? Do I take another mountain bike adventure? Or do I return to the oven of Sanibel Island and spend it with my best friend? Easy decision to me.
I left early Saturday morning, around 5am, and pointed the car south. I had the knobby tires on the back anticipating a ride or two if I could swing it. The girlfriend couldn't take anymore time from work so I would have some days to entertain myself. As I got to Florida I was sure I could ride the famous Santos and still make her place at a reasonable hour. The campground had wifi at the gift shop so I was able to sit outside in the dark after my famous ramen and tuna fish dinner and figure out the plan for the next day. I had told my girlfriend to expect me in two days, from the start that was always the plan. Santos was a mere hour and half away, but that wasn't much driving. Alafia and Balm Boyette were further but only two hours from her, how could I drive so far and not keep going?
By this point my mind was made up, tomorrow I would make the long haul to Sanibel and surprise Kayla a day early (she hates surprises). I still wanted to ride and pouring over the SWA's website its obvious they like to too. They have done some amazing things in this small community with trails on every little plot of land they could find. From the state park I could grab the aptly named 4.5 mile Bridge-to-Bridge and find myself at the trail head to three different areas: Big Shoals, Beast of Burden, and Gar Pond. I was hoping to make Santos that night but I just didn't have it in me to make the drive from Mobile to central Florida. I had crossed the time zone line after UWF and that only added an hour to my journey. This is one of those times you pull out Strava Global Heat Maps (one of my favorite adventure tools) and find a place that may have riding and camping.
That's when I noticed a lot of orange tracks around a town called White Springs. White Springs was right where I-10 and I-75 meet, and, it was the location of the Stephen Foster Folk Culture Center State Park. Well I'll be damned! |