Early Morning on the Mountain

On Sunday I woke up determined to get out and hike. After over 2 months of pain from a trapped sciatic nerve, my chiropractor visits had worked wonders and I could now hopefully pound the trail without even a twinge.  It was incredible to leave the house and within 10 minutes be hiking on a trail in the Shenandoah Park. I started walking before 7:30 and well before the suburbites and city dwellers would enter the park. My hands were thrust deep into my pockets as it was still cold, the early sun trying to punch its way through the fog. I trudged through brown pine needles and soggy leaves, slipping occasionally on the mud that the previous day's rain had left. But it felt great.

I came across what looked like a small camp site on the side of the path, but the fire ring had been set up but hadn't been used. Fires aren't allowed in the park anyway, leaving me to wonder if someone had staged this little scene for a photo. I didn't stand for too long pondering on this, the cold was biting my nose and occasionally gusts of wind rattled bare branches above me. Water bubbled and bounced along a creek alongside the trail, tendrils of fog lifting like steam from a bath.

The trail was sodden, the mud and leaves reminding me of soggy cornflakes. Rivulets streamed down alongside and across the path, my footsteps making muddy splashes up my legs. Flooded culverts gushes occasionally under the path, yesterday's rain was making its way down the mountain and there was a lot of it.

The rain had accentuated the colors in the forest, the green mosses and clumps of grass looking vibrant and saturated with color against the grey and browns of the forest floor. I saw a couple of trees with damaged trunks, caused by deer or bears, but the only wildlife I saw were grey squirrels, who constantly ran across in front of me or up trees, looking chubby and healthy with their winter fat.

There were still patches of snow in ditches and under ledges of stone walls, or tucked between the roots of trees but as I climbed higher these disappeared. The sun peeked over the mountain tops as I climbed to the ridge, then suddenly I was cast in the golden morning light and immediately felt the warmth of its rays. I was amazed at how quickly I had reached the Skyline Drive road and stood for a couple of minutes, amazed that there were no other humans about. No sound of traffic at all, making me wonder if the park was closed, and then thinking how lucky I was to live here and be able to access the park on foot. I crossed over the road to resume climbing up the mountain, the silence broken only by a few birds and more chunky squirrels that dashed for cover as I approached them.

Now most of the leaves had fallen I could see through the bare branches to my new home below. Front Royal seemed quiet, nestled among the foothills, while thick white fog draped across the higher mountain slopes. The trail was even more sodden up here and I smiled as I spotted a fresh bear track that had slipped in the mud and then just a few feet further I saw a deer track that had suffered the same fate. and then it was my turn, one foot skidded from under me but I managed to prevent myself from tumbling down. After climbing for a few more minutes I decided to turn around. The trail was so precarious that I was more worried about coming back down and loosing my footing than trying to continue on up the hill. I gingerly made my way back down to the road and again stood there, listening to the silence and relishing the moment.

As I walked back down the mountain, the trail streaked ahead of me like a silver ribbon, the wet carpet of leaves illuminated and shining so brightly that sometimes I had to squint. Blue sky had now appeared with a few fluffs of wispy clouds floating above, and the sun felt warm. I even considered taking off my jacket but as I made my way down to the creek the temperature dropped dramatically.

As I neared the bottom I heard voices and looking up I saw a huge group of hikers thundering towards me, chattering incessantly and marching as though on patrol. Bright colored jackets and trekking poles flashed past, a few Good mornings' were hailed, and then they had past. But almost immediately, another smaller group approached, followed by yet another large group. A good 40 or so people had passed me in a matter of 5 minutes. Once again I was so thankful that I'd been fortunate enough to start my hike early, those groups had likely been driving at least for 90 minutes to get here. They could only be here for the exercise routine as their racket would most definitely scare any wildlife away.
The fog had almost completely evaporated as I walked alone again once more back to the car. The sun was now high enough to reach the valley floor, the grasses and lichens bright emerald in the morning rays. I was surprised to discover that I'd hiked 5.5 miles without any discomfort. 5 minutes later I was in my kitchen cooking breakfast and planning my next mountain walk.

Girls in the Garden State

After so many weeks of packing and moving boxes, and then unpacking and moving boxes, I finally feel like I'm settled in my new home. Nearly everything downstairs is in its proper place, with my art supplies and seasonal decorations still requiring some organizing in the upstairs rooms, and then pictures to hang downstairs. But for the most part, I'm titivating, the heavy toiling has been completed, and so I was more than ready to pull out my camera and join some girlfriends for a day of urbexing. I was fully prepared the day before, even laying out my clothes and filling the car with gas.
But thankfully, Emily was driving, and soon we were on our way up to New Jersey. I had dressed warmly, wearing insulated trousers, a couple of shirts and hand warmers on the ready. We had 4 locations to visit, the first being an old machine factory that once made metal forming presses, ceasing bulk production in the mid 1960's. Today, after nearly 40 years of abandonment, it is slowly being reclaimed by nature. Trees are now growing under the broken glass roof, mosses and ivies creeping along dark walls and into corners. The fall colors of the dying leaves added to the drab yellows, greens and oranges of the peeling paint, bright blue broken panes of glass adding a pop here and there. This time of year had definitely enhanced the old factory's appeal with the weak sunlight that dappled the leaves and walls adding warmth to the palette. We had arrived at the perfect time and shutters could be heard snapping as we all slowly walked the length of the building. And it wasn't cold, a perfect temperature in fact, upper 40's, the chilly breeze forbidden from the building by tall brick walls.

Cindy took this photo of us discussing Emily's bees.We didn't stay too long, wanting to move on to the next location, we had a full agenda today. The next place in New Jersey was one I had previously explored with Richard and Margie, but we'd been scared away by male voices from a nearby building after only exploring one of the many structures. Today, we entered at a different point in the fence and managed to enter a machinery room without a hitch. This had been a glass and ceramics works, which had expanded throughout the country and also had factories abroad. Today it was silent, but we were able to climb ladders to the mezzanine flooring and capture evidence of the long stopped production. Broken molds and curling layers of colored paint were the focus as I trod carefully on the upper floors avoiding the holes in the flooring.

We did succeed in exploring the other buildings but they were empty, with only a few glass bottles strewn across dusty floors among piles of litter. Emily and I wanted to look further but the others had lost interest and so we quietly crept back towards our gap in the fence, stopping on the outside to pick up handfuls of pine needles for smoking Emily's bee hive. Apparently it has a calming effect on them.

We decided to have a break and find a brewery. We hadn't eaten since breakfast and now being mid afternoon we were ready for some vittles, but Emily and I were mostly keen on trying some local beer. After a drive to Glasstown Brewing, which was on the edge of an airfield, we were soon supping some great beers from this highly rated brewery. It was small and friendly, I wished it was nearer home. These smaller breweries are much more appealing than some of the larger, industrially built breweries in Virginia that cater towards large crowds. We then had to find food, which came in the form of greasy, dripping pizza. Wolfing 2 slices down each, we then made our way to a Futuro house. The one we visited was in Willingboro, but this link is a different location, but shows a plan of how the interior was laid out alongside period photos.

 Photo from Cindy.

Photo from Liz.
It was quite a bit smaller than I'd imagined and in poor shape. I struggled to visualize this round fiberglass blob divided up into rooms and lived in. But they were once hugely popular and the fact that they resembled the typical alien space ship image that everyone pictures in their minds, they appealed to many. We climbed in and out, taking photos from every angle, watching the sun dip towards the horizon, casting golden hues about us. We laughed as Liz held up her flashlight, hoping to cast a red light throughout the structure and create an eerie glow from within, but instead producing only a scarlet dot. The temperature was also dropping and we realized that we wouldn't make our fourth destination before dark. It could wait for another day. As night fell we began the long haul back to Virginia. It had been a grand day out.

All the Lees on Lee Street

On November 4th, I moved from Meadow House to my new home in Front Royal. After 7.5 years it was time to say goodbye to my rented home on the hill because throughout the whole period Maggi had failed to do any maintenance despite numerous requests. The window frames and door frames were rotting and I kept smelling mold. Because I had no control over the situation I decided to bite the bullet and purchase a home. I had always enjoyed renting with the freedom to enjoy my little spare time and not worry about the upkeep of a home but that plan evidently wasn't working and so the search began for a new abode.
I started looking at mountain homes, loving the idea of remoteness and privacy, but after climbing up steep hills and getting a flat tire in the process, I decided common sense had to step in. I didn't want to be snowbound or have to worry about the transmission dying in my car, and the idea of having a few neighbors wasn't too bad either. So I focused on the quiet areas of Front Royal, first looking at a home near the Shenandoah but discovering that meant possible flooding and an incessant onslaught of mosquitoes. And then the Saturday I began my search seriously, having got a realtor and mortgage within 3 hours, a little house with a blue roof popped onto the market. With Carmen, my realtor, I went to see it on Sunday, having first looked at 2 other properties which just didn't interest me, even slightly. I didn't want anything new, I didn't want granite countertops, or glass mosaic tiles, or stainless steel. I wanted a 1 level living space within an older home with character, smaller rooms that I could make cozy, a small, private back garden and a covered porch where I could sit out with a beer or wine and listen to the rain. I really wanted a metal roof that I wouldn't have to worry about for the time I lived there, somewhere to park the car and I wanted quiet. And I had to have my own bathroom after years of living in a 1 bathroom house.
All of this and more was in the Blue House. It was on a dead end street, backing on to a cemetery, so it was definitely quiet. I had all the rooms I wanted without it being too large, 1 level living with 2 bedrooms and bathrooms and a bonus 2 rooms upstairs which could become a studio and an additional sleeping area for guests. After walking around and around, I stood outside with Carmen, hardly believing that I'd found my new home so quickly. And then as I stood looking at the blue shutters and relishing the peacefulness of the street, local church bells pealed, followed by organ music. I was sold. And within a month so was the house, and I moved in.

These are all iPhone photos as I haven't yet found my camera battery chargers. But unpacking has been taking place at a furious pace. I've already met my neighbors, all of whom are very friendly, and quiet. Matt across the road helped me carry in 2 large lawyer bookcases from the car, and as he opened the side door, 2 six-packs of beer that I'd bought for the movers, tipped out, all 12 bottles hitting the road and then rolling down the hill. And not one of them broke! A good omen!

The sitting room was my first point of focus. I wanted this to be cozy, filled with books and warmth. It's getting there and the cats are already enjoying the sun shining through the windows while they sit on a sofa.

The rear hallway will hold all my urbexing photos and memorabilia, and I'm ecstatic that I have a place for my bikes without them being in the way. I do have a basement but I wanted them to be quickly accessible for when I go out.

The dining room is a little echoey, but still feels welcoming. I have curtains coming for the large picture window which should make the room cozier. The other rooms are still works in progress but for the most part the house is feeling like a home. It's also built like a fortress. The walls are solid, the door and window frames a rich polished wood, and secure locks on all entry points. I feel safe here, especially knowing I have some burly neighbors with big trucks who are always about. I'm finding it difficult to accept that the house is mine. For so long I've regarded my home as belonging to someone else and have always taken care not to damage anything. Not that I want to do that here, but it's a weird feeling to know I can knock a nail into the wall with expecting repercussions from someone else. It will take some getting used to.
I now also have my trash collected, my drinking water is safe, (Maggi never checked the well on the hill), and I can now walk or cycle to town. Carmen is also a neighbor and a new friend to hang out with. Everyone I've met in town has been friendly, no eyes darting away or heads looking down at the sidewalk. Folks here smile or hail me with a greeting when I pass them.And even the town is quiet. No bustling crowds or lines to get into a restaurant. People have time to chat, and I've done this in all the shops and cafes I've been in.

Saturday was a very cold blustery day so I stayed at home, unpacking more boxes and going out to dinner with Carmen in the evening. Sunday had calmed down enough that I decided to take a walk about town and watch a movie. There were few people about and the Veterans' Day flags fluttered and flapped loudly as I walked past.

The ginkgo trees which we had admired on moving day a week ago had now released their hold on their yellow leaves and a thick golden carpet lay on the ground. I had wanted to plant one of these for Kota when he passed yet had not manged to obtain a tree anywhere. Every plant nursery I had visited had none in stock and the one place that had promised to order a tree for me had failed to call me back. I wonder if that had been fate as it would have broken my heart if I had planted it with Kota's ashes at Marshall and then had to leave it behind. I'll see if I can find one in the spring for the Blue House.

I watched and thoroughly enjoyed Bohemian Rhapsody in the old fashioned Front Royal cinema. With only 42 seats in the room and a screen that was likely only a little bigger than most sports enthusiasts' home TVs, it felt quaint and friendly to sit in a smaller room, chatting with the people next to me and singing along to the songs.
When I left, the temperature had noticeably dropped but I wanted to continue walking. Thanks to my weekly chiropractor visits and the plenty of exercise lifting and carrying heavy boxes daily during the past 4 weeks, my pelvic pain is slowly receding. I plan to walk and cycle a lot more now I'm in town.

I walked uphill to the cemetery and climbed to the summit, then turned to enjoy the vista, relishing the feeling of ownership as I surveyed the autumnal scene before me, amber and oranges leaves with my little blue roof nestled among them. I stood by the monument to Mosby's men and looked down on the quiet town. This is a really well maintained cemetery with rangers regularly driving around it, and from my kitchen window I see many vehicles passing through the gates to visit lost loved ones.
There's also a Soldiers Circle here, a ring of gravestones of the Confederate soldiers who perished during the Civil War. The dead were collected by the Ladies Warren Memorial Association in 1868 and reburied here. Within a short time, 276 soldiers were brought here, representing every state in the former Confederacy. 186 soldiers were unidentified and they now lay under the obelisk memorial in the middle which was erected in 1882.

As the sun began to set the shadows lengthened across the graves and mountains. I walked down towards my blue roof and within an hour when darkness fell, someone came and locked the gates to the cemetery, leaving its occupants to a peaceful night.

Standing indoors, I love looking out at this view from my kitchen window, sunset hues across the horizon and old houses sitting quietly on a back road. Deers potter past and apparently lay underneath this weeping cherry tree in the spring, and I've already spotted the chubby resident groundhog. I'm pretty sure this house was destined to be mine, the chain of events leading up to it and the ease of my purchase make me feel it was meant to be. Also, it's kind of quirky with the word 'Lee'. My middle name is Karalee, which my friend Kelly calls me all the time. So it's Karalee, Rosie Lee, and Tricksie Treat Grumbaleena now living on Lee Street, and my work place is on a Lee Rd. So it's all the Lees on Lee street. A peaceful place to be.