Wild, Wonderful, West Virginia,

Two years ago we drove through West Virginia. It had been a cool, rainy day and wispy patches of mist clung to the mountains. It was a spectral, beautiful sight.the scattered patches of white added a unearthly, supernatural layer to the scene, but the mountains, they were the artwork. Covered in forest, climbing crazily from the deep, impenetrable valleys, forcing the freeway to climb, swerve, drop, paying homage to the invincibility of nature. I fell in love.

There is an aboriginal belief that God resides in nature. It was born in a place like West Virginia. Where almost every turn reveals a stunning panorama with dozens of shades of green, brown and black. Explosions of trees, covering everything. Almost everywhere you turn is a scene that would have stunned Cezanne. Such ancient, primitive, savage beauty. A land where mankind is tolerated, the cities are carved out of the forests, but surrounded by deep, dark, woods, waiting for the newest invasion to wither and persist and the woods will reclaim the few, scattered lost outposts, and the natural order is returned. 

This summer we were a little lost trying to decide what to do for vacation. I suggested a state park, and my wife agreed, but wanted a different state. West Virginia was our first thought. We found a park in the southeastern corner, Bluestone State Park. It had a lake to kayak, it was close to a town with a Kroger, which is important, and the pictures were stunning. Breathtaking green mountains climbing with so much urgency out of a dark blue lake. It looked unbelievable. But, we are here now, and the pictures don’t do justice to the scenery. 

Our cabin is in the woods, within sight of the cabin on either side, but far enough to provide some modest sense of isolation. A wall of vegation climbs up behind, and on the other side. It isn’t impenatrable, but it would take some work, and since it angles down so sharply I wouldn’t really recommend trying.

Also, I recently read about the increase in ticks in the northern parts of the country, much of it because of the mild winters, provided so thoughtfully by Climate Change Inc, a division of the Republican Party, and the explosion and deviousness of poison ivy. According to a scientist, who spent several years studying the beautiful, but toxic plant, it can be almost impossible to tell which plants are poison ivy and which aren’t. Apart from the leaves of three rule you are kind of stuck. It can mimic the leaves of other plants, it can take over dead trees giving the ersatz appearance of life, and it has become more common and virulent, and seemingly intelligent since the weather has become more tolerable, for poison ivy, anyway. 

Needless to say every stand of trees, every thicket of bushes, every lined trail bristles with menace. Tiny little disease carrying parasites, crawling all over the well camouflaged leaves of poison ivy waiting to ambush me at the first false step. Of course my wife won’t listen to any of that. A park ranger told us about a trail that runs along the Bluestone River, and is famous for seeing wildlife, otters, deer, raccoons, eagles fly overhead. So, we are off, in search of adventure, throwing caution and common sense to the wind, and challenging convention, in West Virginia.