Six days after the launch of Spring 2025 the feelings of unremitting illness molted like an outgrown snake skin and fell from me long enough, at least, for me to take the motorcycle out for the first time in two months, maybe three.

Who can remember? Winter and sickness are alike in being oppressive to the spirit as well as the memory.

On Thursday, the 27th, I rode to Blairsville, Georgia. But on Friday, I took the bike through the Nantahala Gorge, which I’ve seen described — accurately — as one of the more scenic drives in the country, and then on through Asheville to Fletcher, North Carolina.

Once again I was astonished at the still present damage left throughout the Asheville region by Hurricane Helene when it came through North Carolina in late September. The storm flattened huge swaths of forest at Fletcher, Asheville and elsewhere as it barreled through on its way to Tennessee and beyond.

Homes and businesses in that section of Appalachia will take years to recover, the forest decades; those who lost family and friends will never fully recover.

In spite of the damage and what it represented, though, the unremitting early spring sun had a way of burning off the loss — at least for me, unscathed by Helen like most everyone in the Murphy area. The damaging center of the storm moved east of us.

The upholstery shop where I was dropping off my stock seat to have recovered had been swept away by the storm, but Diana, the proprietor, had salvaged enough to continue her small business out of her home, which — higher up a nearby hill — had escaped much of the damaging floods from Helene.

On the way back I rode through downtown Asheville, past wrecked and gutted businesses along the creeks — almost all of which were turned into deadly raging rivers by the hurricane.

And then it was back home again — 287 miles later — where I marveled for the umpteenth time how a peaceful motorcycle ride can so easily reset one’s compass bearings.