We’ve been traveling and touristing these past two weeks, learning lots, and adding more state stickers to our map.
After getting the air pressure checked in both the RV and the car tires, we left camp near Staunton, Virginia and got back on I-81 for an easy 1-hour drive north across the state line into West Virginia. We followed the Garmin’s directions 9 miles off the highway, along a narrow two lane road that curved and climbed, and just wide enough to stay in my lane, in no hurry to drive the posted 55 mph.
At the end of the road we turned into the campground, a huge non-working farm, with campsites in a grassy field along a creek that was lined with deciduous trees, all in their summer greens.
We leveled and hooked up, had lunch, and then planned to drive 35 minutes back south to Winchester, Virginia, to the Museum of the Shenandoah Valley where a Facebook friend works. She had set aside two free passes for us. So we put on our going-into-town clothes and got ready to leave.
But then I heard the thunder, and I wanted to stay home to enjoy the storm. And what a storm it was. I sat at the dinette and watched the wind pelting the rain against the driver’s side of the car. I was so glad we were parked with the RV facing into the wind, not getting hit broadside, because we could feel movement, even as stable as we are.
And then there was a crack of thunder, so close that we could feel the floor rumble. And I was glad we were home. And finally we both agreed to just stay home, since the storm was moving in the direction we were headed, and there were red lines of traffic on the Maps app on the highway we needed to take.
So we took off our going-out clothes, got back into comfortable shorts and t-shirts, and listened to the rain. It lasted almost an hour, a hard downpour with wind, then just heavy rain. And then it stopped, and we all got in bed. I even napped.
Later, we put on our hiking boots and took a walk around camp, along the gravel road that circled a huge field of two-foot high grass, partly mowed. We turned down the loop road under the trees that paralleled the wider part of the creek. There were a couple of tent campers, a muddy path down to the water, and mosquitoes.
Cody and I turned around and headed back for the open road and continued around the circle, committing to the full walk around camp. We got to the top of the hill, just past the office and it started to rain. Lightly at first, and then, just as we made it to the cover of the gazebo, it came down hard. We sat on a bench on the side of opposite where the wind was blowing and stayed dry.
On the walk back to the RV, I saw Marika sitting under the group pavilion. Cody and I walked across the thick, wet grass to join her, then we all made it home before the next downpour.
The next day was a touristing day. We started from camp in West Virginia, took the highway north, briefly back into Virginia, and then across the Potomac River into Maryland. It was storming too much in Williamsport, so they cancelled the Canal Boat Tour, the reason we had come.
After our picnic lunch in the car, instead of just coming home, we continued along the roller coaster backroads, stopped for ice cream in Sharpsburg, then drove over the Potomac River again, into Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, where we had planned to go to the John Brown Wax Museum to learn about the abolitionist. But there was no parking in town, so we switched drivers and headed home, with the Avoid Highways setting on the GPS.
We drove up and down the luscious green hills, with rolled bales of hay scattered randomly across the fields, past brick and siding houses sitting atop sprawling ranches. We passed a highway crew riding mowers along the precarious sloping shoulders, another truck using a 6-foot electric hedge trimmer because the angle was so steep.
We slowed down as we drove through the small old towns, the barely two lane streets lined with clapboard homes next to original brick business buildings next to wooden slatted walls that used to be homes, the vines and trees now taking over the structures.
The next day we drove back into Virginia to meet my friend at the museum and we loved walking through the gardens, seeing the Lego sculptures and the Asian Garden. And we especially enjoyed meeting a new friend and sharing some lovely conversation.
Last weekend we finally left the Virginias and arrived in Pennsylvania. Our campsite was across from the playground at a very kid-friendly campground, but it served as a good base for exploring. We drove 45 minutes north and west, across the Susquehanna River, to the Broad Street Market in Harrisburg.
Broad Street Market is the oldest continuously operated market house in the US. We got a loaf of sourdough bread, cherries, and sugar peas. We shared an Amish pretzel, which is much softer and more buttery than the favorite Philadelphia pretzel, and we sat outside listening to a black guitarist singing in an unrecognized language.
A mix of locals and tourists passed by, moving between the 1874 brick building and the 1863 stone building where there were more food vendors. We watched a pair of moms with their 6-8 year olds sit and listen to the music, one boy with Down syndrome, moving his hands to the music, slightly off beat. A black woman in her 60’s pushed a two-wheeled cart and steered it over to an older black man sitting on a bench. Did you hear Ole Man Tex died? Yeah, heart attack. I heard. Yeah.
And it was an easy blend of black and white, locals and tourists. So different than in the south where we knew we were either in a white neighborhood or a black one.
We drove down Front Street, along the river, past stunning old mansions with varied architectural styles, many now converted to businesses and apartments. And we drove across a bridge and walked around City Island Park until it started to rain.
And now we are in the Poconos in central Pennsylvania for the week. It is green with hills and trees and a big, wide, ever-changing sky. It is barely humid, divine in the shade, and so quiet you can hear the birds and the breeze. The high today should be in the high 70’s.
And now we are in the Poconos in central Pennsylvania for the week. It is green with hills and trees and a big, wide, ever-changing sky. It is barely humid, divine in the shade, and so quiet you can hear the birds and the breeze. The high today should be in the high 70’s.
Last night I was sitting outside under the awning, with my phone, taking pictures of the sky, and a camper asked me about the wifi service. She is hiking the Appalachian Trail, and using this campground as a base for the next 50 miles. She’s in her 50’s/60’s and is traveling with her dad in a Chrysler van. He drops her off and picks her up after she walks the next 10-15 miles of the trail each day. I clapped my hands and gave her a big WooHoo.
Her trail name is Van Hailin, because she’s traveling in a van and she hails her dad for a ride. She started in Harper’s Ferry three weeks ago and will walk to the north end in Maine, then drive back to Harper’s Ferry to walk the south section to Georgia, where she’ll meet up with her kids. I said, Wow, they must be so proud of you. And she said, No, they think I’m crazy. And then I gave her a second round of applause, because Damn! She is hiking the entire 2184 miles of the Appalachian Trail!
And this is what I love about this lifestyle. We meet people who are doing things that they love, that bring them into nature, that spark something in their heart.
Yesterday we drove into the next big town to get haircuts, and we both enjoyed the easy conversations with our stylists. We had fun exploring the world’s largest Shop-Rite supermarket, and found the sweetest strawberries at a local farm stand. And we found a real bagel place and took home a baker’s dozen! There are a few touristy things we want to do, and later this week, we’re getting together with Marika’s mom’s old neighbor who now lives up here.
This is the perfect place to rest and relax between the last two months of traveling, and the next three months when we’ll be in one place, with a regular work schedule, volunteering at a National Wildlife Refuge in New Jersey. It’s a wonderful opportunity to slow down and breathe and say thank you for all that we’ve seen, and done and experienced to get to this place, right here, right now.
