Girl power.  Yup, it’s a real thing, though I’m technically past what most may consider my “girl” years.  It may only be night #2 of “Bing and Lexi’s Wild West Adventure”, but I’m feeling pretty accomplished at the moment.  Currently, I’m relaxing next to a very comfortable campfire, blazing just enough to ward off the dang biting flies without cooking us.  On my left sleeps a very tired and content golden retriever, and just 20 feet away, our SUV and tent are waiting, all ready for what I hope will be a great night’s sleep under the stars.  While it may not seem like much to some, the fact that I carefully researched and then ordered the tent, practiced putting it up at home, and then was actually able to accomplish this in the campground today counts as a victory.  Thank you Jesus!  I love it.  It’s an extension of my vehicle, so the back hatch is wide open and the tent connects right to it.  Hopefully it proves to be the best of both worlds.

Our home for the night sits  just on the precipice of the Red River Gorge, in the Daniel Boone National Forest, Kentucky, USA.  Tomorrow morning is reserved for hiking the gorge and cliffs before we head out.  The scenery is lush and wild, but the campground is charming and peaceful.  I had been concerned it would be packed, but there are probably no more than 10 sites claimed for the evening.

But getting here . . . We began our morning in the fog that hung over the West Virginia farm where we spent the night.  At 2,500 feet up, it just didn’t want to give in to the sun waiting patiently for its turn to bless the day.  Makes me think of a favorite poem that used to hang on my classroom wall:

The fog comes on little cat feet.  It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.  Carl Sandburg

In any case, Lexi bid adieu to her Appaloosa pal who hung out in the stable next to the house, and we headed out, leaving our sweet cabin shrouded in the mist of the morning.  As we began heading down into the town of Lewisburg, the sun streamed through and the day grew warm. In the end I determined there really wasn’t time for more than a quick drive-through of the town, though it seemed hospitable and sweet.  Instead, we steered south about 90 minutes to Lindside, where we made a much-anticipated stop to visit canine relatives. That adventure warrants a post all its own – Miracles and Dog Heaven, West Virginia.

After leaving Lindside,  we worked our way through the ragged southern edges of West Virginia before popping back into Virginia, then repeating the whole business over again. This went on for hours.  Windy, curvy, mountainous, thankful-I-have-no-human-passengers-to-throw-up-in-my-car kind of roads.  Four lanes, then two, dump trucks flying by at breakneck speed.  Yikes.  Perhaps not my best choice of roads, though I think the alternatives were worse.  I got a little taste of coal country, and I say little only because I didn’t dare look left nor right very often, though I wanted to check out all that was whizzing by us.  In the end I was left with the impression that for at least 50 miles, there was nothing but sheer rock on my right, leaving whatever inhabited world that may have existed solely to my left.  Not that I could really tell you what was there.

I suppose that’s not entirely true, for as I sit here reflecting on the day, it occurs to me that there was a certain visual symmetry to that part of the trip.  Both rail tracks and a river were constant companions throughout the drive; the three bands cutting along together through the narrow valleys between these mountains.

Last year on my southern adventure, I noted that every town unfailingly boasted of a Dollar Store and at least one Baptist church, regardless of the population.  This trip, as I work my way across western Virginia, southern West Virginia and eastern Kentucky, the Dollar Store continues its place of prominence in every village large and small.  However, King Jesus is worshiped in these parts  with much more colorful names than simply Baptist.

I can just about hear His name being called upon, fiercely and with conviction, in places that bear names such as Holiness Victory Temple , Holy Redeemer Temple, and this one, which left no doubt as to who is the guest of honor, “simply” called I am Jesus Tabernacle.  Perhaps my favorite, though, was End Time Tabernacle.  For real.  These fine folks may be a bit short on subtlety, but there are no gray areas.  Preach!

Even the names of the roads leave little doubt for interpretation. My favorite one of the day, which showed up as such right on my GPS, was Route 19, Trail of the Lonesome Pine.  I never saw the aforementioned tree, and am guessing he turned to sawdust a while back.

Other notables and fun facts included Country Music Highway, otherwise known as Route 23, and the town of Pikeville, which claims the Hatfield and McCoy feud as its bit of fame.  And the town of Grundy, which by all indications appeared to be in the middle of nowhere, boasted the single grandest Walmart I have ever seen –  bar none. Three stories, glass front windows shining in the sun, calling all inhabitants from likely 75 miles to come park in its 2-story attached garage and buy all the things.   And yes, Grundy is a real place.

Are these the things I set out to see when I planned this trip?  Well, not exactly.  But you just never know what you’re going to find around any given corner.  Today, it was rarely what I expected.

When we finally headed into the Red River Gorge area of Kentucky, I was more than ready to end the drive.  The drive itself just wasn’t that much fun today.  As with each day on a road trip, though, I doubt I’ll forget it. Ironically it may be the WalMart that rules in my memory.  That thing was ridiculous.

Sitting in my office at home planning this drive a few weeks ago, it seemed like a perfectly grand idea to take the longish route around the gorge to the campground.  “See the sites,” I told myself.  “Get a feel for the place.”  At that point in my drive today, the only feeling I had was queasiness. Who knew you could make yourself carsick when you’re the driver!  As we entered the area, I really wanted to change course, but with no service of any kind, my paper map was my only guide, and it wasn’t exactly detailed.  So we took the very very long way to Koomer’s Ridge. It was also windy and narrow, but  wild and beautiful.  And now we are here, feet up, embers glowing under a billion stars.  Totally worth it.