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.
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