Starting today about 30 miles south of the Virginia/Kentucky border, I was alarmed- nay, surprised- to find frost on many cloth surfaces this morning.
Appalachia is hard to write about. It is both very beautiful and very saddening, and I don’t entirely understand it.
Damascus is nestled, as most towns in Appalachia are, in between a number of hills (or mountains, as we’d call them anywhere else).
After a fantastic and scenic stay with Pat in Buena Vista, I headed out with high hopes to make it to Blacksburg in spite of the cloudy outlook.
Starting out from Charlottesville, I was quickly led astray (or perhaps not?) by following TransAnerica route markers…which led to some very non-bikey roads.
The luckiest day of the trip began gray, became drizzly, and soon resolved itself into a rainy grind towards some nebulous “next stop,” which turned out to be Charlottesville.
I am very, VERY, relieved to say that one of my greatest fears about this trip, getting hopelessly lost on country back roads, appears to have been nullified, at least in part, at least in Virginia.