When you aren’t expecting it, and just allow it to happen, it usually has a way of turning out just right. Had you asked me this morning how I thought the day would turn out, I would have said “meh, it might be a five.” I woke up grudgingly, having slept for only about five hours, but I had to get going. Had a nice cup of coffee with my new friends Simon and Lisa, we solved a few more world problems, and then I glued myself together and hit the road. It was basically one of those “just get through it” attitudes, you can sleep when you get there, Then the beauty of the morning, the chilly air, and the reminder that I’m actually doing this starting eroding my frame of mind.
I walked for a few miles on a nice little road parallel to I-81, far enough from the roar to be pleasant, talked to a couple of friends on the phone along the way, and then came to a point where I had to make a decision. Should I stay on the flat road along the freeway, or go up over the mountain? I had every reason not to walk over the mountain. It was an additional mile, had about an 800 foot climb, and of course the bears, all the bears in Virginia were in those hills, every single thing I could think about to stay on the low road. But my gut kept telling me to go over the mountain.
I went the extra mile, literally and figuratively, and walked over the most beautiful mountain ridge I’ve seen thus far, definitely a trip highlight. I knew I had made the right decision after about 300 yards. A van turned around and waited for me to come closer, which I did, and just said hi. Nestor and Christie offered me a ride, asked me if I was OK. I reassured them I was, and when I told them what I was doing, a look of genuine concern came over Nestor’s face, concern for a stranger he had just met. He asked if I had a way they could know I had arrived safely. I of course told him I would, and they have my information. Then he handed me some chocolates. I happen to love these, and accepted. I’ve eaten many before, but all of them together weren’t as good as the ones today, given where they came from. Thank you thank you. I needed that.
And then I tore up the incline to the top, able to share part of it on a video call with an old and dear friend. Amazing technology… here I was walking in the mountains in Virginia and he’s watching every step, in San Antonio. This is what I found to the east…
And the west…
I am so glad I went the extra mile. it was literally one more mile, but it made all the difference in my day and going forward. I haven’t been stopping for more than a couple minutes along all my prior walks, either to buy something, adjust my backpack or take a picture, but today, I spent about half an hour up there, just sucking it all in. Nice breeze, about 60 degrees, not a cloud in the sky. Also glad I trusted my gut. I came off the hill totally energized, into and through Pulaski, and sailed on to my hotel. ‘Twas definitely one of my best days so far, and here I had thought meh only hours earlier.
So most of the time, about an hour before I get to my destination, I pull up Yelp and see what kind of culinary experience awaits me. Oddly enough, today I didn’t, and didn’t need to. I walked in to Dublin, VA, and lo and behold, a sign for Happy Cinco de Mayo! It’s a chain, albeit 2 links long! So of course, walked over the little grass and a street behind my hotel, and into another little slice of Mexico, in the Virginia mountains! Excellent meal, nice conversations with my new friend from Veracruz, another from El Salvador, and had the chance to congratulate Tony, the creator and owner, whose very nice niece Diana took wonderful care of us last night, 20 miles back towards Tennessee.
On the way out, I met a local law enforcement agent and his family. We had a nice little chat, he gave me some good safety information regarding Roanoke, and we parted ways. Remember what I said about nice people? Well, they seem to be all over the place, swarming! I think it’s an epidemic… hope so.
And on the day to Dublin full of surprises, I found a superb local beer at the gas station. I think it has done quite well over the years, judging from the fact that it’s kind of all over the place! It is a particular favorite of the Irish, who must import zillions of pints of the stuff every year!
It’s exactly what a stout should be; great body, taste, whatever - I’m obviously not an experienced beer critic. All I know is it’s quite good, bordering on fantastic, best served not too cold or poured too fast. The little cloverleaf design in the head is not necessary.
So before I leave Dublin tomorrow, I’m going to try to find St. James’s Gate. Wish me luck, it might take a while!
Cheers.