In the middle of Virginia's Crooked Road

Have you heard of the Crooked Road, Virginia’s Heritage Music Trail? I was excited to stumble upon mention of it in December while researching our southern sojourn. One major piece of my agenda was to listen to as much live music as possible and take in some of this country’s fantastic music history.
After exposure to jazz and rhythm & blues in New Orleans, soul and rock'n roll in Memphis, and street musicians in Asheville, North Carolina, it was time to check out the old time music and bluegrass in Appalachia. Virginia is in the heart of Appalachia (I also learned that Appalachia is a cultural region in the eastern United States that stretches from the southern tier of New York state to northern Alabama, Mississippi, and Georgia).

So we drove through the rolling hills in east Tennessee, up into the mountains of Virginia along steep and twisting roads that are also tilted as they turn through the mountain folds! It was thrilling. Laurie and I discussed what it would be like to drive this region in a sports car. I've always liked the Audi TT (convertible) and Laurie would have chosen for herself either a BMW or a Porshe. We can dream, right? Tennessee and Virginia are extraordinarily beautiful. Even in the winter. Perhaps more so during the winter because when the trees are bare, you can see the mountain ridge outlines, and the varying tree densities that either block out the sky or reveal the blue. And there are wild rhododendron bushes growing all along the roads up into the forest as far as the eye can see. A local told me that most of them bloom a bright orange in May. 

We stayed for three days at Goose Point State Park. The first and third days were hot and gloriously sunny and we were the only people on the lake. It couldn’t have been better. We relished our quiet and solitude and Marley swam as we sat on the floating wood dock and breathed in the deeply fresh air before building our nightly campfire. On the second day, a freak storm blew in and we watched snow build up around us, hoping it wouldn't delay our departure for Floyd Virginia, the last stop of interest before Boston.

But we were very lucky and all the snow melted on that third, unexpectedly hot day. We drove one hour to our next musical destination, over a large plateau of farmland dotted with young fluffy black calves. Floyd County is right in the middle of the Crooked Road, and has a land area of 383 square miles located in the Blue Ridge province of the southwest part of Virginia. Floyd is "a rural community rooted in tradition and blessed with a spirit of independence. . .home to a unique mix of people: descendants (sic) of settlers from the mid-18th century, back-to-landers of the 1960’s and 70’s, and an ever growing stream of artists, young farmers and escapees from the pressures of city living.”

I have to say that's precisely what we experienced. Everything about the place was pretty and artsy (as an artist, I’m not supposed to like that word, but sometimes it’s just totally apropos) and the people were talkative and good-natured. Unfortunately the fresh air farmer’s market was closed on Sunday, but the Floyd country store was open for their weekly 2 PM old-time country music jam (on that day, fifteen musicians playing, fiddle, banjo, guitar and an upright base!). 

Laurie wasn’t as enthusiastic about it as I was, so she took Marley on a walk and found a health food store that sold Amish butter (My toast the next morning was to die for!) If it hadn't been winter and we had had a few more days to dally, we would've been able to enjoy many other music venues both in Floyd and along the Crooked Road.

We then spent our last afternoon and evening in Virginia at another gorgeous lakeside campground, and it was bittersweet as we would be leaving the next morning for two days of arduous highway driving to get back home before the next snow storm up East. 

We took several beautiful walks through the stunning forest which transitioned from pine along the water to elms and oaks and back to tall pine. Marley had her last deer-chase, we made our last fire, and Laurie cooked the last rv meal — another southern inspired, rice, okra and andouille sausage dish, because she's a total sweetheart!!!  

And right before the sun went down beyond the trees, I took a last walk in the forest by myself. The tree trunks were gently lit with the weak but far-reaching sun and the brown leaves on the ground sparkled. The air was fragrant with the pine needles that densely covered the dry moss path. I was utterly alone except for the sounds of crickets in the oak trees beyond. It was so beautiful and I felt a little bit like crying to ever have to leave such a place, here, at the end of our trip. I ran back to the camp ground to grab my phone to take some photographs to show you, but it was too late; the light had changed, the sun had dipped behind the trees; but it would’ve be impossible anyhow to ever really capture the beauty around me. These photographs will have to do.

So there you have it, a pretty magical two months' explorations summed up in a few snippets, which I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing with y'all. I can barely bring myself to say au revoir, so, as they say in Louisiana, 

“Laissez le bon temps rouler!"