The Morgantowner: Craig County, Virginia

I try to be home for shabbat at Tree of Life here in Morgantown. I also try to get away once a month for two or three days to a different county within three hundred miles of here, any state, in alphabetical order. This hobby has been hampered by more and more responsibilities thrust on me (or taken on voluntarily) as a Morgantown City Councilor. I'm also getting over my fourth illness since Thanksgiving, and we are planning a much-needed and long-delayed trip to California to see friends and family at the end of the month.

I've managed to see eighty-two counties in the months since we moved here in July 2012, and I'm nothing if not persistent. The eighty-third, scheduled for this month, was Craig County, Virginia, in the mountains near Roanoke and on the border of West Virginia. Usually, I schedule a three-day trip to a place more than two hundred miles from Morgantown. But Craig County has just over five thousand people, and its county seat and largest place, New Castle, has a population of 153. The others live out in the country somewhere.

I felt a need to get away. I love Joe and our cat and our temple and the people who go there, but sometimes I need to be off by myself, to not have to care for or listen to anyone, to not have to worry about the leaky drain in the upstairs sink or what I forgot to buy at the grocery store.

So I left Friday and planned to be back Saturday, taking back roads, increasing the time to New Castle by maybe a half hour, but reducing the mileage to 216, courthouse to courthouse. The only places I could find to stay overnight in Craig County were country rooming houses with a family or a couple who rent rooms or have a spare cabin on their property. I'm trying to get away, not meet new people, and in a county that voted seventy-eight per cent for the current President, I don't want to talk to or stay with strangers who might make me uncomfortable talking about my life.

So I booked the "Usual Chain" near Roanoke Airport, about twenty-one miles out of New Castle. It's an older (1960s?) resort-style place with rooms facing a garden with a swimming pool. I was delighted that there was a sign at the registration desk that they wouldn't rent to anyone who lived within thirty miles. I've been places like this where one person rents a room and invites sixty friends and family to drink by the pool on a Friday night. That didn't happen here.

The back roads yesterday (Friday) took me through Pocahontas County, one of the most rural and beautiful counties in West Virginia. I drove past the famous Green Bank Observatory, saw the sign for Snowshoe Resort, watched the shifting clouds and rain sprinkles, the passing parade of mountains, the new green of the trees and the purple and white wildflowers. I was near the Greenbrier Hotel, owned by our absentee Governor.

I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple with me for lunch and I had lots of water. I saw a convenience store/restaurant/gas station on the road about noon and thought to get some iced tea. I was about to reach for a Diet Coke, there being only sweet tea in bottles, when I asked the proprietress if they had "unsweet" and she offered to get me a cup from the fountain drinks, and even asked me if I wanted "Sweet 'n' Low." I declined that, but I was touched by her kindness.

The last stretch of the trip into New Castle is through Jefferson National Forest, over mountains on a slow, twisty road. It was sunny and warm and scenic enough to get me to turn off the CD player and open the windows.

New Castle has basically two streets downtown, each about three blocks long. There is. a grand Courthouse, with the obligatory statue of a Confederate soldier out front, a small community store, and a larger market (not super), two convenience store/gas stations that will make you a pizza, an ancient hotel, now a museum run by the local historical society, some restored log cabins, a new building with a dentist's office and a Subway, a post office, city office building and a library.

I visited the library, small and crammed with books and DVDs. There is a sign outside that says "Visitor Information" so I came in. The librarian gave me a street map of the county. I asked about the Appalachian Trail, which passes through the county. It's far and off bad roads from New Castle, but she pointed out a parking lot along 311, the main road from I-64 to New Castle and then to Roanoke. That part of the trail is in Roanoke County, just over the line, so I was doubtful. I noted that the librarian had a pack of Marlboro Golds on her desk. I bought a VHS tape of "Midnight Cowboy, " which Joe has never seen, and a paperback copy of John Irving's The Hotel New Hampshire from their "Library Friends" sale. It was 4 P.M. and 84 F., so I thought I would check into the hotel, sleep for an hour, and maybe come back to town for pizza or a sub for dinner, then hike a bit when it was cooler. I had trouble following the directions to the hotel and wandered through Salem, ending up sleeping from 5;45-6:30, once I located the hotel. There were expensive restaurants nearby, which didn't interest me, and a place called "Country Cookin'." I decided to go there. You order a meat dish and a side, then they have a salad bar with other sides and dessert. Too many desserts. I was good at first. I had a piece of salmon with a dry baked potato, and just a little macaroni and cheese and a lot of salad. Then I went overboard on the desserts. Feeling like I should exercise, I checked the time of sunset (8:18) and decided to head out to the part of the Appalachian Trail just inside Roanoke County. It was farther than I remembered and I pulled into the parking lot just at eight. A board at the trailhead warned about how steep the trail is, the need for water and good shoes, how easy it is to get lost. I only had a few minutes before dark, so I went ahead without all that. There were two groups of campers out in the park; one had a fire. Mountain laurel was blooming. I panted up a not-too-steep incline, crossed a bridge, and came to a stream. From there, the trail switched back and up a steep hill. That's where I turned back.

I got lost again driving back to the hotel. Luckily, I have a smartphone and Google maps. I watched a bit of "Meet The Fockers" a silly movie that I saw when it came out because Barbra Streisand and Dustin Hoffman play a married couple. I turned it off after a half-hour. Normally I would have checked emails or Facebook, but it was Shabbat, and lately, social media has become just another responsibility, so I didn't look at anything.

Google Maps said it was 267 miles from the hotel home. Going back to New Castle would cut the mileage to 250, and add very little to the time. It was 74 F. when I left Roanoke, but it soon started to rain, and things cooled off into the 50s as the rain came down and the elevation went up. I stopped for gas in New Castle (cheaper than in West Virginia) and I was surprised that I didn't have to pay before pumping. I asked the woman inside at the convenience store and she said "I know just about everyone around here, and I know their car, so no one can get away with anything." While I was there, two men came in together, one pushing a stroller with a baby in it. I'm not going to speculate about that.

I left the motel just before nine, and I was home by three this afternoon. I went on I-64, US 19 and I-79, faster, a little longer, but less time than the way I came yesterday. Less interesting, too. The weather was much cooler, mostly in the 50s, with periods of severe rainstorms. I was in our newer Honda, a pleasure to drive.

I was glad to get away, and I don't mind driving. I need to make more time for myself, to not devote so much effort to social media. Like everyone else, I fret about climate change, and worry that I'm not doing enough, especially as much as I drive. I take a reusable water bottle with me, I don't use plastic straws, our car runs relatively clean and gets over 40 mpg on the road. That's what I can do. I'm an American, and I like road trips and Diet Coke. That's just who I am.

I plan to write three more blog posts: one about our friend Art, who died the night before Passover, about the disturbing Morgantown City Council election, which I won by a hefty margin, and one about my April trip to Coshocton County, Ohio. Hopefully, I'll find time to get them done.