Daniel Boone National Forest, Kentucky.
I loved watching Daniel Boone on TV as a child.
And now I am in his national forest?
That is very, very cool.
It’s also quite cool in the other sense of the word, given that there is fresh snow lying on the ground and in the trees. There’s not a lot of snow, just enough to be pretty.
Yesterday we were in tee shirts.
This morning it rained.
And now, it’s snowing in West Virginia.
That escalated quickly.
I woke very early this morning to the sound of rain on the roof of the RV. The humid warmth of the night melted into the crisp punctuation of
big fat, lazy drops of rain splattering one after the other, until the rain gradually became softer and steadier.
I closed the windows and roof vents just in time.
Call me crazy, but rain changes everything. It’s beautiful.
This morning in West Virginia, It adds contrast in the trunks and branches of naked or newly-budding trees, and makes the colour of blossoms more vivid. Roads shimmer with silvery light, and grass comes to life with lush, bright-green enthusiasm.
As we continue to drive down I79 South, the misty rain softens the stark outlines of the trees and of the mountains that range as far as the eye can see. Near the horizon, they blend into ethereal nothingness.
There are more picture-postcard villages dotted along the highway, but the rain and the fog on the windows makes it impossible to take photographs. That’s the only thing I don’t like about the rain.
We have spent the day travelling from Mount Wolf/York, PA, through part of Maryland and into West Virginia. We’re heading for a KOA just north of Charleston.
From what I have seen so far, West Virginia consists largely of mountain ranges, valleys, and trees. There are also some enormous potholes in the roads. I’m not so fond of those.
This opinion is based on two hours of driving through the state.
The scenery is pretty enough, with trees sprouting new leaves and some blossom trees – vibrant purple, pink or white – along the roadside. There are some postcard-worthy villages nestled on hillsides, each with a church or two prominently positioned in the middle of each.
Even so, I am fairly certain that John Denver saw a different part of the state than me, or he was here at a different time of year, when he sang, “Almost heaven, West Virginia…” in his timeless classic, ‘Country Roads’. He was definitely more enthusiastic than me.
Earlier today we stopped at a truck stop/travel plaza for coffee and food.
Pizza seemed like a good idea, until I started talking to the guy at the Pizza Hut Express counter.
“Hi, what’s on the supreme pizza?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
“You don’t know?”
“Sorry, ma’am, no I don’t.”
“So, do you know what’s on the marinara pizza?”
“No ma’am, I don’t.”
“So tell me, is there any cheese on the cheese pizza?”
“I guess so, but couldn’t say for sure.”
“OK. Maybe I’ll just take the supreme pizza, thanks.”
“We don’t have any of those.”
“There’s one right here in the warmer.”
“Oh hey, cool!”
Bizarre.
I’m guessing he’s not topping any classes.
There’s a place called Negro Mountain and nobody has thought to re-name that.
Today we are on our way again. We. Are heading for Charleston, West Virginia.
I’ve just left behind a very close friend who was one of the main motivators for the US part of my trip. In the years that I have known her, we have helped each other through physical pain, illness, grief, insult and having to deal with idiots on a regular basis.
Spending this weekend together was wonderful. We talked, laughed, cried, hugged, shared meals, drank coffee, indulged in treats and gave each other keepsakes which, like the memories, will remain precious for the rest of our lives.
Her parents and brother have welcomed me with generosity and love. They have been so generous and sweet, and I know I am now a member of their family.
It was incredibly difficult to say goodbye this morning.
I know one thing: I am definitely coming back, and we are going to spend much more time together.
Then I might kidnap her (is it even possible to kidnap the willing?) and take her back to Australia with me.
The battlefield of Gettysburg is a sobering place.
Monuments to different army and cavalry divisions from the various states are spread over the area according to where they fought and many of them died. It is these monuments that show just how widespread and varied the fighting was.
The term “battlefield” tends to make one think of a single grassy field.
These men fought in an orchard, in the woods, up and down hills, from town buildings, behind man made barricades and breastworks, from behind rocks and ridges and in gullies as well as on the open fields near the town of Gettysburg. There are still holes from bullets and cannonballs – and in some cases, the bullets still remain embedded – in buildings that remain standing today both in the town and nearer to the battlefields.
I can’t imagine the fear that would strike the hearts of even the bravest soldiers with the noises, sights, and smells of battle. The senses would all be overwhelmed. One Confederate soldier recorded the observation that the eeriest sound was that of the Union soldiers chopping down trees overnight so they could better attack and fight the southern armies the next day.
It was mind blowing to think that I was walking where those soldiers had walked… where they had fought and died… and later, where President Lincoln had stood to deliver his famous Gettysburg Address.
Lincoln was right about the soldiers in the Battle of Gettysburg being immortalised for what they had accomplished there, but he was wrong about nobody remembering his words spoken in their honour.
They say the battlefield and some of the buildings in town are haunted.
Our guide for the day, a wonderful and knowledgeable friend of mine, told us of figures showing up in photographs where nobody was evident when the photos were taken, and of others who didn’t show up in pictures when photos were taken of re enactments. A shadowy figure is often seen near Sachs Bridge, a covered bridge that stands right by the scene where the fighting first broke out.
If any place on earth might be haunted, Gettysburg would certainly be a prime candidate.
A shop assistant, on hearing our Australian accents, asked, “So where are you all from? Texas?”
After two weeks in the US and Canada, the whole auto-flush thing still takes me by surprise every single time.
An Aussie Maple Leaf, adrift on the wind... 