Rolling Down

I remember while I was eating, watching the hawk float high over the valley on the wind, it’s movement framing the incredible, undulating landscape.


It rained the next day, as I made my way through West Virginia and out of Virginia, driving across more impossibly mysterious hills of the Appalachians. As I criss-crossed the Appalachian trail, I promised myself I’d come back to see what lie in the hallows and traces, the shady insides of these hills. But I was comforted in knowing what I had seen and experienced. These hills really are a special place.
Down into North Carolina around sunset, and into the city of Charlotte to Rocke’s place again by 10:30 PM.

A Storm In West Virginia

I was just looking out over the fields, enjoying the feel of being somewhere rural. A man cut his grass and the smell blew past me. Farm fields rolled up and down over the hills and into the valley below. The misty clouds started to form and rise from between the hills, a place I couldn‘t see. The gray mist started to form into clouds before my eyes, the whole mass slowly moving nearer. The sweet smell of coming rain enveloped me. Lightning started to flash, maybe 4 or 5 miles away. I would catch flashes here and there, all in my range of vision, and the drops of rain started to come down.
I leaned on a fence, as the drops got heavier and the lightning more frequent. I took my hands off the metal of the fence. The thunder took over the whole sky, booming like a huge drum, the clap fading away into bassy reverberations that shot back and forth across the sky. The flashes got closer, and they tore down in jagged streaks of azure, electric blue. So violent and beautiful at the same time. I had the desire to run out in the rain, getting soaked to the bone, and also retreating to the car to be grounded in case being hit by lightning. I did both. Inviting and frightening, the most awesome display of nature. It was all around me, I could feel the electricity. Lightning struck down and the furious rip of thunder was immediate. The chaotic and random and powerful and dominating force was right above me. A thrill, a humbling.

A deer chewed on grass, not bothered by the awesome show above her, the rain pounding on her back. Mist rose above the fields as the rain filled the sky with moisture and it reacted with the soil. I was part of this, and I am grateful.

In The City and In the Woods

Washington D.C.. All the stories and lessons, news and TV shots I'd seen a thousand times before, plus all my imagination was allowed to fill in. It now came to life. I should have seen it before, but at my age now I could truly appreciate what it meant, and even feel humbled. In awe even as I disagree with so much that goes on there. It was like strolling through an adult theme park. Instead of giddy fun, I felt the surge of knowledge and the importance of experience. Instead of a roller coaster, it was the elegant, austere, and classical monuments.
And so just like that, in a day and a half, I felt as if I was more enlightened to the identity of this country. And the song I kept hearing reminded me I AM proud to be an American. But also further ingrained in me the idea of the basic human rights that made the start of this country so important, beautiful, ugly and chaotic. And then reminded me why I am so bewildered by the leaders and people of this country sometimes. And so from here, the "first city" of white houses and black presidents (and mostly black residents), I kept rolling, out of the heat and sweat and contradictions, out of the city, and in to the woods of Virginia.

I followed the highways out towards Shenandoah National Park. I didn’t know what to expect, but this place was special. Not very wide, but long, and only comprising the ridge of a chain of hills, it was a unique and peaceful place. While driving in, I criss-crossed the Appalachian trail. I found a pull out and a trailhead. After only a few minutes away from the road, I got the sense that it was a refuge. After just hiking in a little bit, a peace washed over me. A butterfly fluttered by as I walked. It landed on a leaf. I tried to take a perfect picture of it. It seemed to sit there as I tried. Bright blue against the light green of the broad leaf.

The infinite still woods behind. I kneeled down and tried to hear, actually hear. The trees spoke, the wind sang quietly, the birds answered, and the butterfly didn’t move. Another insect joined our circle, and stayed with us. I was at peace knowing this could happen, and I made some connection. All death and life seemed to make sense for a little while. I didn’t have to go miles and miles into the wilderness to find this. I just needed to get away from the madness and stop. As I left, the insect stayed and the butterfly flew off into the forest. There was no aching to see more, I was satisfied. No regret for what I hadn’t seen. But I had seen a lot that day.

Rolling Through History

I imagine the 10,000 Confederate soldiers being overrun at 5 Points by 50,000 Union men, the battlefield laid out before me. The bunker they built overnight, and the bones and evidence of war in the ground beneath my feet. Richmond and the Southern Railroad Line were no longer secure, and the Civil War ended 9 days later. A bird pricks the heavy tropical air, and like that, I leave on a small highway into the arms of the Chesapeake.
Tappahanook River first, I stare across it, and imagine the people that once inhabited this area and plied these waters with their boats. I keep rolling, tracing the Potomac now, a major colonial waterway. Washington's birthplace is here, I approach it and take a turn down a side road, and it leads to the river. It is beautiful and tropical. There are shells and nice white sand, the water is very warm. Such a nice area, I take my time strolling on the sand, imagining the people that have done the same, and the things that had happened here. A sign says this is where they loaded in most of the supplies coming into the Pope Plantation from England, most of the work being done by slaves. There will always be the hipocritical, peculiar, complex history all the founding founders had with slaves, this story reminding me of that.
Back on the highway, I cross the wide and historic Potomac, make my way into D.C at dusk. The beautiful soft orange and sherbet light reflecting off the majestic capitol and Washington monument. It looks as though I am in the middle of a Roman city, and I can’t believe I'm here. After driving for almost 12 hours, I go from North Carolina, to Washington's birthplace, and into the capitol of my country that bears his name.

Going Anywhere

Uncomfortable is comfortable, uncomfortable when comfortable. The familiar surroundings, redundant street corners, rote routines, ingrained habits; all remind me I‘m not done, that I haven‘t truly experienced life.
New sights can remind me how varied life is, new sounds how inspiring it can be, new tastes remind me of the joy.
I will go anywhere to get out of the known and expected.