Through the Appalachian Mountains

The first leg of my trip has taken me down the coast, through Virginia, and to the North Carolina/South Carolina border. Temperatures have slowly rose, making for mild nights and pleasant days. Spring is awakening here, and no snow in sight (sorry New England!). The highways are lined by trees in various greens with pops of purple from Redbud trees. Driving has been smooth and steady so far.

My first night I stopped to visit family in New Jersey. Liz is my great uncle’s niece and has become a good friend of mine over the last few years through letters. She’s my pen pal who supports and encourages me from afar. Despite the rain and chilly temperatures, we enjoyed our time together. We caught up over hot tea, a good meal overlooking the lake, and a brisk walk around a local state park. It was a great way to begin my trip.

Virginia was my next stop, right outside of Shenandoah National Park. I stayed at a Cracker Barrel, my go-to free campsite when no planned destination is in mind. Always clean, quiet, and safe feeling, Sunny and I like them very much. Plus, we always seem to find a scenic spot to park. Lucky I guess!

The next day I had to put miles behind me, but I couldn’t pass by Shenandoah National Park without sampling a little bit of the beauty. I popped on Skyline drive about halfway through the park and was treated to a quiet ride on the mountain ridge. With hardly anyone around, I could drive slowly and soak up the Appalachian Mountains around me. While the valley was brilliant green, the mountain tops were still a sea of brown. Tiny buds gave flecks of green here and there, but life was still slowly reemerging at elevation. The quiet and sun kept begging me to get out and enjoy it, so I did manage a short hike up Turk Mountain at mile 94. All alone on the trail on the way up, I relished the peace and calm. I hustled my way to the top (not sure why, maybe for the challenge of it?) and then sat down to enjoy lunch on a rock outcropping. Birds road the current above me, gliding up and down with ease. I crunched on snap peas while admiring the view, then headed down for the rest of the drive. A few fellow hikers greeted me on the descent, but again it was largely quiet. I did slow down this time to admire the emerging life around me, spotting Johnny Jump-Ups, dandelions, and buttercups springing up from under the dried leaves. Two and a half miles later, sweaty because I was over dressed, I was happy and ready for a few hundred more miles of driving!

That night I made it to Cracker Barrel number two, this time in Wytheville, Virginia. Up on a hilltop, I had another great view of the mountains around me, glowing blue in the distance. Wytheville is close to Grayson Highlands State Park, which is why I stopped here – another great recommendation from my dad. Grayson Highlands State Park is located in rural Virginia, in the southwestern corner, and is home to a herd of feral ponies! Of course I had to try to see them.

Wednesday morning I headed to the park early, about an hour away. After driving up and down narrow, snaking roads through farmland and Christmas tree fields, I arrived at the park. It was quiet again (my favorite) and I was one of few cars in the lot. I laced up, grabbed my bag, and headed for the trail with high hopes.

My route took me out on part of the Appalachian Trail and I passed a few through-hikers making their way to their next destination. Eventually though, I veered off and onto another trail, hoping the path less travelled would invite some ponies to wander my way. The scenery was majestic, golden fields meeting evergreen covered mountains in the distance, rock hills to boulder over every few hundred feet, winds gusting in the open spaces, but no ponies. I stopped for a snack midway, climbing out to a rocky point for an unobstructed view. I still had hope for ponies, but tried to just appreciate the ability to be outside, traveling, surrounded by beauty.

On the way back, my intuition told me to veer off the planned route, and I trekked through some brambles and grassy paths to Springs Trail, which would eventually loop me back to the start. Walking quietly along, hopping over streams of water bubbling up from the earth and trickling downhill, I look eagerly left and right for the elusive ponies. Then, all of the sudden, I saw movement in the marshy area to the left. A small herd of ponies! Tan, white and brown, black, they lazily chomped on the grass and shrubbery all around. I took a few steps closer and they titled their heads to look, but didn’t seem to startle. So I stepped a little closer to snap a few photos. They were good models until they had enough, and then snorted and pranced deeper into the trees. One practically brushed right by me!

Elated and mission fulfilled, I continued down the trail. Almost back, I was surprised by another herd at the trail intersection! Bonus! Another young woman and I enjoyed their company, taking pictures from afar. That is, until I unzipped my backpack for a snack and my tan friend stomped over, hoping for a treat! I slowly backed away, trying to respect their space and reclaim mine. Once it noticed I wasn’t going to share, it went back to gnawing on grass. Later, another horse tried the same, but when I backed away with my bag, it slobbered on my camera left on the ground! No thank you! But quiet funny nonetheless.

Eventually I continued on, after admiring their flowing manes and fuzzy hair. Just around the bend, there was another herd though! Resting for the afternoon, they were laying down in the pasture. Just as comfortable as the last, they approached visitors looking for a handout, but I moved on before they could bother me again. The last few hundred feet back, I couldn’t believe how my luck had changed – no horses on the way out but several groups on the way in! A wonderful, full day.