Putting about 500 miles between myself and the part of the human race I regularly interact with was a wonderful feeling. I need to do it again, and soon. Matter of fact, I wish I was doing it right now.
Had a nifty Indiana Jones moment tramping through an old cemetary in Wytheville, VA Saturday night. I was chomping on a stogie and taking surreptitious hits off a flask of good bourbon while crawling through a steady rainshower peering at decaying tombstones to try and find my many-great grandparents. I got thoroughly wet but found what I was looking for. It’s pretty humbling to stand atop your American patriarch nearly 200 years after his death. I hope the old fellow smiled at being remembered.
Did the I-81 shuffle all day Saturday with a quick detour down Rt. 11 to pass over Natural Bridge and a shortish stop in Wytheville. I tossed around the possibility of trying for one more state on my quick run but opted out, it was nearly one and a half hours to go anywhere in any direction – Kentucky, North Carolina or Tennessee – and the same to head east and find a place to crash. So, I headed east. Slept in the Piedmont just west of Danville and made it to Appomattox midday on Sunday. There’s an eerie quality about that little reconstructed town. It was as quiet as a grave, even with a fair crowd of people bustling about. Very cool, very quiet and very peaceful. I did avail myself of the opportunity to piddle on the site of Lee’s last Council of War.
It had to be done.
Quick run back up the valley to Charlottesville on back roads, supper – per my southern-journey tradition – at the Biltmore and a mad dash for home. I was awfully glad to walk in the door but was ready to leave again after about an hour.
It is definitely time for a change.
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