Occasionally in my life, there is a perfect day. Sairdee was one of them.
My friend Carol, The sage of Elamsville, had a birthday the other week while on a tour of Western New York state, which she tells me has a population of 5. I called her earlier in the week and asked if she would like to hike up to McAfee's Knob. She'd not ever done that hike before so was eager to go.
Carol is the first woman I ever met as a "bent person" (I decided I really don't like the term gay, it just don't fit me) she was a friend of two guys I met named James and Chuck, Chuck has since passed away and James, well James is James. So knowing her gave me a feeling that I'd never had before, never had to conceal myself, never had to lie to her and she could care less. She is an "old hippy", lives in the proverbial old farm house over looking downtown Elamsville, Virginia (both houses) and lets just say every clock in the house says 4:20.
I got there Sairdee morning and was greeted by her cats Prissy and Shithead. "Where is Cole?" I asked her about her big old black lab.
"Dead" she said.
"When?" I asked, and she told me the story about having him put to sleep Labor Day weekend after he quit eating. He was 14 to16 years old, no one really knew. He was a good dog. I told Carol: "Here's an idea, next time you have something put to sleep, once it is done look at the vet very sincerely and ask 'now how long will they be asleep?'"
We headed out listening to The Barrell House Mammas, a wonderful trio of women from Asheville, North Carolina who played at Floydfest this year. They are like the Dixie Chicks without the drama. It was 69F/20C, the air was clear, the leaves just beginning to turn. We took the Elamsville Highway to Rt. 8, up the mountain, past Tuggles Gap, on into Floyd, right onto Rt. 221 and headed north, thru Check and Copper Hill, and then "Bent" Mountain and back down into Roanoke. A left on 419 would take us past the shopping center that had once been Lakeside Amusement Park with its rickety old wooded roller coaster. We crossed over I81 and the road become Rt. 311, and took a sharp right at the Orange Market and took off thru the country, up the long mountain, at the top was the parking lot where Jack's promised picnic was already assembled. Four college aged guys with back packs and a guitar, they looked like they might be out there overnight.
At the insistence of Carol's son and ankle, we took the fire road most of the way, it was a much easier walk than the trail, it followed the ridge like and old Indian path and was very gentle. There as room to walk side by each and let others pass because everyone was taking the fire road and everyone was passing us. A canopy of hardwoods shaded me eyes and we drifted along, leaving the parking lot at noon, it would take us 2 1/2 hours to go 3 1/12 miles to the summit, and about an hour less to get back. We'd have to keep an eye on the time and not get caught out yonder in the dark. Squirrels scampered all about us gathering acorns for the winter.
Then came the point we had to leave the road and take the narrow Appalachain Trial the last mile. Our first steps on it were in stairs, it was a climb and Carol had to stop several times and I didn't complain. Once I sat down and was amazed how good it felt.
We encountered several people, said hi and went on. Then I seen this young man approach with short red hair, shades and a sleeping mat on his back. He seemed to want to ask us something and I fell for a pretty face. He wanted to give us a tract for his church. He was out on the Appalachain Trail like a modern day apostle witnessing to people and I was wearing my Jack Nasty t-shirt. I thanked him but told him we really didn't want to to discuss out belief system whit him.
He was good, "What do you believe in" I held up my hands "This" I said, "all of it, it is part of God".
"So your a Pantheist" OMG, he was labeling me. "Whatever" I said and "bless you" and we turned and walked away.
"Well I can tell you the bible doesn't agree with pantheism."
"Don't I know" I hollered back. I thought to myself a lot of things like it don't agree with, like my orientation or his need to pass judgement. "It ain't safe anywhere anymore" Carol said.
That last mile was the longest mile in the world. "Are we there yet?" was uttered more than once. I had only been there once myself, like 4 years ago, and was trying to rememory how much farther it might be. Finally near the top we took a little path over to a ledge that overlooked the valley and farms and houses and not 20 feet away on another ledge sat a Turkey Vulture. I am reasonable sure that what it was, one of them meet eating birds. He saw us and I knew he wouldn't sit for long. Carefully we drew out our cameras and got a couple of pics. A relative of his flew over and he turnt his head sideways to look up and see who it was. Then with no thought at all he took off, diving down and soaring up above us. Looking for the next meal, suspended above our normal affairs.
The top was just a short distance from the perch, and the picnic was in full swing. It is one of them places that is so worth the effort to get there. The folks there are all friendly because you've all past the test of the mountain. They come up and volunteer to take you picture for you so you can show your friends back home. The cliff edge is totally natural, totally unprotected. I would cautiously move toward the edge to see how close I could get when the realization there was another person standing near me would make me jump out of my skin almost. The air was so clear, no haze, you could see 50 miles we figgered. See downtown Roanoke, the airport, the mall. There is also a very strong cell phone signal up there. We called and texted people on my phone, looking out over the isolated farms and fields you would have to know genetically how to reach, looking out over Carvins Cove, the valley that Roanoke gets its water from. You could see how low the water was. The creek that feeds it has dried up.
These kids today, I am not sure what to make of them. They are a lot more comfortable with themselves than my generation was. I over heard one of the young guys tell another "you wanna lay out, I have a blanket" (the imagination goes wild.....)
An hour so of picture taking and reminiscing passed too quick, and we started out trek back to the car, which was accomplished without the first stop. We called Carol's boyfriend, Chico the Gluten Intolerant Pizza Maker, to hook us up with a medium Spinach, Tomato and Artichoke pizza with Feta Cheese.We hauled ass to get to downtown Roanoke before the Market building locked up at 6. We sat on stools in the back room and devoured the wonderful fresh hot pizza which turnt out to be a large rather than a medium and told Chico about the day. He was having to sleep on the floor there that night to reopen at midnight and sell slices to drunk yuppies needing to soak up the alcohol in their bellies. He makes half his income doing this on Fridee and Sairdee nights, and thru a combination of sickness and employees quitting he had got stuck with it all weekend.
These are how the wheels turn, each of us one being pushed along by some invisible hand, or in one case a bible, sometimes colliding, sometimes travelling in unison for a remarkable amount of time. Wheels turning, carrying us back up Bent Mountain, my eyelids so heavy that by Copper Hill I pulled over and let Carol drive and the wheels rolled on as I caught 40 winks and drifted to that place Jack and Ennis embraced by a fire, where you can start to dream, and still be aware of things being said around you.
Like a line from my favorite fanfic, 271 Horses, the four hoofs moved steadily toward the curve in the road. We reached Floyd and trunt left on Rt. 8. A mile or so out of town the deer took a few steps out in the road and waited. We all saw each other at the same instant, Carol stomped on the breaks, the car went a little side ways, the tailgating SUV behind us did as well, and the deer, scrambled, unable to get a foothold on the asphalt. Came the deadening thud and down it went, scrambling to get up as we scrambled to stop we tapped it a second time and a second time it went down. I imagined it going right under me, but it didn't, somehow it got out to the side and took off, running into the woods where it probably later died of internal injuries and some Turkey Vulture now revels in its good fortune, as we did when we stopped and checked out the damage. With the exception of what appeared to be deer snot the car was its usual bug covered, dirty self, nothing cracked, nothing broke.
Carol kept apologizing, I kept telling her "for what? we're alive!"
Topic: Shakesthegrounds Rumblings (Read 3740984 times)