I emerged from the Mount Rogers region into the broadest valley the trail has thus far crossed, for the first time descending from to farm and plain. This final descent wiggled through a lovely tunnel of rhododendron alongside a tumbling creek, a particularly Virginian feeling. A different creek on the eastern drainage of today’s ridge...
The second poem in my Mount Rogers/Grayson Highlands series was inspired by an accumulation of nighttime memories from the trail. Night in the outdoors carries a certain restlessness, an unpredictability, insecurity. Simultaneously, it is a luxurious time of rest, peace, and satisfaction. With the limitation of sight, the other senses heighten their awareness. Early this...