John Wise

When we left the Richmond area, it was overcast with sporadic rain. By the time we were passing through Amherst, Virginia, where we spotted this barn, the weather had turned in our favor. Before leaving for our drive west on the 60, we felt that the two Waffle Houses near our hotel were a sign that we had to eat at Waffle House, so we ate at Waffle House, but only once, not at both.

We stopped to inspect the hornet nest hopeful we’d spot some in the wild, but the nest was empty like so many of the places we’ve tried visiting on this trip that was closed. Nearby within 2 minutes is the Appalachian Trail, but at that time, we had no idea. A little further up the road was the Blue Ridge Parkway, again, we were oblivious of its presence.

Based on the time stamp on this photo, we were likely very close to the Blue Ridge Parkway. Years would go by, but ultimately, we would return to drive sections of this national treasure of road that stretches for 469 miles from North Carolina north to Virginia.

The “Welcome to West Virginia” state sign is right over Interstate 64, where the speed limit is 70 miles per hour. There will be no getting out of the car for a selfie in the middle of the road. We note that we’ve now driven 5,429 miles since leaving Phoenix.

Kind of strange being in a place that is celebrating the side that lost instead of putting the past to rest and joining the rest of the country, but what do we know? We are listening to NPR, which is recognizing Aaron Copland’s 100th birthday today, and broadcasting performances of “Fanfare to the Common Man” and “Appalachian Spring.” We keep the windows up so nobody hears the Yankees listening to a New York composer and a liberal radio station. I should point out that we do love bluegrass and hillbilly music too.

What a gorgeous day and a fantastic landscape.

This view is from an overlook of Hawks Nest State Park in Ansted, West Virginia, on Route 60. Though we are heading west, we are in no hurry to get back home, just so you know that.

The Kanawha Falls and power station is supplied by the Gauley and New Rivers just upstream a couple of miles. There are so many places on this trip we would return to years after we finished our first cross-country excursion. Places like the Gauley River we would learn more about from Bruce Keller, who would be our guide on whitewater river trips down the Colorado in the Grand Canyon and the Alsek up in Alaska. On a subsequent trip, we’ll eat fiddlehead ferns at Kitchen Little in Mystic, Connecticut, or spend some quality time in both New York City and Washington D.C. in addition to returns to Maine, Boston, Baltimore, and first-time visits to Philadelphia, Montreal, and New Bedford in Massachusetts following the reading of Moby Dick. This trip will be the cement that enthralled us with the idea that we could travel from coast to coast and seek out the places we found intriguing.

I have a soft spot for ruins and would stop at every single one if time allowed. This one was right next to the road in West Virginia.

Returning to Kentucky drives home the idea that we are essentially heading back toward home. Well, I’m sure we’ll discover 1000 more amazing moments before we get there.

A FedEx driver up the road in Lexington recommended we stop for some dinner at the Meadowthorpe Cafe, turns out it was a great recommendation. It’s not always easy to find out about the way local eats when we’re out on the road. Matter of fact, I think that’s why we hear so many people gripe about long drives; they are confronted with the same hotel chains, the same McDonalds, Taco Bells, and Dennys, the same gas stations, and broad freeways that, while moving people quickly, make the landscape feel monotonous. Who knows what we ate here, as we didn’t take notes about it other than “fast, good, and cheap.” (Caroline says it was a southern-style grub; she’s probably right.) Our motel was about a half-hour out of town, a cheap joint called the Turfmor Motel in Wilmore, Kentucky. On the way to our motel, we passed the Mary Todd Lincoln House in Lexington, which, of course, was closed.