My wife and I took a road trip over Labor Day weekend. We had no particular destination other than West Virginia. I'd never been to the state other than the two minute drive between Maryland and Virginia on road tips from Gettysburg, Pennslyvania, where we live and Texas where I grew up. I mean, you blink your eyes crossing the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers and you completely miss that you've driven through West Virginia.
So we decided to head to West Virginia, but no place in particular. We left just after 10 a.m., after I'd finished all the work I was going to do that day.
As we were crossing the Potomac, traffic was backed up enough that I was able to take the following picture with my smartphone.
I bet you can tell it's undoctored. Courtesy LG.
So we drove. Through Maryland and into Virginia. Then my wife said, "Turn here. It will take you into West Virginia."
My wife grew up in Pennsylvania and had taken many road trips to Virginia and West Virginia. I've lived here since 2006 and have made a few through the states with a handful of jaunts to Harper's Ferry for some R&R with my family. We weren't taking any familiar routes. I trust my wife to be a faithful navigator, so I obeyed.
We ended up going across the Appalachian mountain range, up and down, and snakes around. Steep upgrades, steeper downgrades, hairpin curves, and death-defying scenery. I mean that literally. I could hardly keep my eyes on the road.
It was a country road. Paved. State highway. But not like any state highway I'd ever driven on. There were few towns and villages along the way, and that trip through the mountain eventually got us to West Virginia. It also took us back into Virginia. And then in West Virginia again. And back into Virginia.
I don't know how many times we crossed the state line because it was never marked. But I knew we were skirting the state line. In fact, once or twice we turned to head west and ended up going south--right back into Virginia again. The GPS told us so. In such cases, I'd find another road to turn on that was supposed to take us west, and it did, for a little ways, before turning south again.
At one point, we got to a T-crossing and I decided to turn right. No reason. It just seemed the thing to do. We discovered we were in Virginia headed north toward West Virginia. For those of you unfamiliar with American geography, West Virginia is west of Virginia. But it has a panhandle. And the panhandle is a small portion of the state that lies north of the westernmost part of Virginia and west of Maryland. We crossed over into West Virginia and discovered we were heading into a little town by the name of Berkeley Springs.
Here's the route we would have traveled had we drove the most direct way.
What we ended up doing is going through the mountain just south of Martinsburg. It took us about four hours because we were in no real hurry and had no real destination.
When we got into town, we went to a Motel 6, but they were booked. A nice old lady sitting in the lobby recommended a bed and breakfast around the corner. We checked it out. Inside that little B&B was a cute chapel that isn't used, but I took a picture of it any way. This is the view from the hallway just outside our bedroom door. There's a little glass window through which you can see the entire chapel. If you're Catholic, you can appreciate this.
We ate dinner at a nice little Mediterranean restaurant in town called the Naked Olive. I didn't see anyone naked, but I did get to eat an olive on top of my salad.
In the morning, we got up and walked the streets before heading out on our next adventure. Here are some of the sights we saw. All photos were taken by me on my smartphone.
Berkeley Springs was once named Town of Bath after Bath, England. The bathhouse was modeled after those found in the Old World for which the Somerset town was known.
In case you're wondering, yes, George Washington, the first president of the U.S., bathed here. It's blurry because my hand was shaking. I thought my wife was going to take off her clothes and get in.
We found this in a shop window. I thought it was interesting that a cheese shop is "open at other times" upon request. Just call. Contact information has been redacted.
This is why Plato said poets corrupt the youth. The shop was closed, so I couldn't pee on that.
This post originally appeared at Narrative.
All photos taken by me.
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