Week 1 – Stafford, VA and Pocahontas, WV -- Part 2

Downtown Marlinton, WV

We didn’t close our eyes and plug our noses and leap into the dark swirling roadways of America.  We counted to three first.  The decision to full-time is big.  Life changing big.  For many people we spoke too, overwhelmingly big.  I get that.  But the component parts aren’t actually that big.  It comes down to philosophy, minimum acceptable luxury, and the budget to bring those two together.

We read a lot.  Talked a lot.  Watched a lot of YouTube.  Probably more YouTube than I had watched in my entire life previously except maybe for the weekend I replaced the upper and lower control arms - with associated ball joints, hub, and CV joint on the front right of the Mazda.

One bit of advice that stuck was, “Get out of vacation mode as quickly as you can.  It’s expensive and it will wear you out.  You don’t have to do everything everywhere you go.”  Challenge accepted.

Jon looking at the Opera House

We slept in on Day 1.  Lounged around drinking coffee and listening to the rain.  Took a drive into Marlinton marvelling at the green, the streams and fields and old Pontiac Firebirds, with not a one on blocks.  So incredibly opposite the “starting in the low $700s” sprawl consuming Stafford.

Marlinton doesn’t have a Walmart or 5G, but it does have a great tourism office where we practiced being friendly.  And collected printed maps, color brochures, and great advice on what to see.  From there we took a quick stroll through streets elbowing for space with the Greenbrier River in the narrow valley.

Back home we devoured the new material and maps that didn’t need to be scrolled and I promptly scheduled our activities for the week based on the most efficient geographic groupings.  I’m that fun to be around.

After dinner we drove back into Watoga and hiked around the lake on the “easy” trail under heavy clouds and in that sort of green glow you can sometimes get when everything around you is young and thriving and the air is almost full enough to mist.  There was Mountain Laurel overhead and frogs under foot.  Tall grasses, fish, and a family of ducks.  At one point we looked across the lake to see several deer following the trail we had just left, a fawn among them so small he couldn’t have been more than a day or two old.

We decided to check out the road that had turned us back the day before.  It was a stunning single lane that climbed up Pyle Mountain to a wooded meadow across from a heritage apple orchard.  There were more deer, curious about us and our car, and an overlook high enough we had enough cell service to call home.

The infamous switchback of doom

Back underway, I noticed an animal dash across the road.  It looked a lot like a small bear.  It popped back out, then dashed back into the woods.  It was, indeed, a small black bear.  We watched him climb a tree, then vanish, then reappear another 20 yards down the road.  We crept up (in the car), watched him dash up another tree, and listened to his distinctive voice.

It was a good night to be driving slowly, windows down, breathing the air and listening to the forest.  A good night to not be trying to do everything everywhere all at once.  It was even a good night to see a bear cub a half mile from where I take my dog out in the dark before bed.