"I'm ON Vacation!"

A little Adventure goes a long way

Happy Monday, folks!

Have you felt the Distance calling lately? The urge to adventure runs deep in humanity, and I do my best to notice. However, since selling my house, moving to a new town in a new state, building up a new business, meeting new friends, and trying to figure out what on Earth I’m doing…I felt like Dr. Leo Marvin in this cinematic classic What About Bob?

“I’m ON an adventure!”

But, apparently, there’s still room for more. I went to Big Meadows this weekend up in Shenandoah National Park to give an astronomy talk. In the process, Adventure showed up, and imparted much-needed perspective. Here’s this week’s Letter.

Letters From Josh

Mountain Rambles

8/1/22 # 93

Well, howdy, folks! This one goes out to a buddy of mine - we’ll call him “HK.” I asked him about these letters, and he said he enjoyed the nature bits. With that in mind, I resolved to take you all on a literary trip to the mountains. I hopped in my car Friday, turned left out of the driveway, and rolled northwest on a beautiful summer morning. I was heading to Shenandoah National Park to give an astronomy talk. Although you didn’t realize it, you all were there with me - in a poetic sense, of course.

The Charlottesville traffic thinned out, Route 33 climbed quickly into the country, and there they were: the mountains! Do you remember being a child, and meeting a distant relation for the second time? They tower over you, booming a “ho ho ho, my you’ve grown!” Slightly alarmed, you stare. It’s too late to run. They give you a melting hug, and you realize you’re home. The mountains gave me the same feeling. Chicory bloomed along the climbing road, little pieces of the sky we were headed towards. Here and there a camper van rolled by, sights of summer vacation.

I parked at a small lot. “Hightop mountain trail.” Who names these things? No matter. Nary a soul was around, and the woods were absent a breeze. The path disappeared into a leafy kingdom. It wasn’t just me - it was for all of us. HK would get a nature story, by George! So I sallied fourth, a modern-day knight with a T shirt instead of armor. (This is overly complementary of myself.) Ancient boulders guarded the path, ferns sprouting from cracks on their gnarled faces. Lush nettles carpeted the forest floor, and the occasional tiger lily nodded in resplendent orange. Up and up the path wound. Grizzled oaks stood in mossy silence, and here and there a mosquito whined in the dense air. Ahead, a few serious hikers labored under heavy packs. This was part of the Appalachian Trail.

America’s Calmest Interstate

The idea always sounds idyllic: hiking, nature, living off the land...And then I see these poor saps actually working hard at their task and sweating and such. It’s admirable, and perhaps someday I’ll try it. For now, I was happy to play the part of writer with a car. Up and up. Silence except for my breathing and boots, and a bird here and there. “Huh, I wonder if there’s a view? I hope there’s a view!” Blue distance could be glimpsed here and there through the trees. After about a mile and a half, there was the top. And some boulders - maybe a view?

Jewelweed crowded close - I stepped on the prehistoric granite, and there - the Distance. The Shenandoah valley opened up below, West Virginia was fifty miles yonder. A cloud moved up from the south, a giant cotton-candy sponge cleaning the trees. The blue mountains, gray rocks, subdued green trees, overcast sky, rain over some distant village...Something good snapped into place inside my tired brain. A sense of scale: the world was bigger than my little room, my computer screen, any essay I could write you. It wouldn’t fit on the page. The space. Space to move forward into, time which we traverse. I know it sounds weird. But lately, things had been collapsed into what’s right in front of me. The to-do list was as dense as a New Year’s fruitcake. It was nice to realize there’s more than what’s on my plate.

Looking West

Suddenly, the rainy nature of the cotton candy sponge cloud demanded attention. Sure enough, a mile and half from the car, it started. Scampering along the path, I found a rock overhang halfway down the mountain. Sheltering under it, I watched the rain. It slowed enough. The woods smelled like a lovely garden. Back to the car and a candy bar.

Now that was a good hike.

- Josh

Tiger Lily graces the wayside