Escaping West Virginia is not as easy as it sounds with our four year old GPS. We left the North Bend State Park, which is idyllically located in the middle of nowhere. Access to the park was treacherous at best, but Brent managed to navigate our huge truck and trailer around and up and down the peaks and valleys of the Appalachian Mountains.
After a short stent on a paved road the GPS told us to turn right onto a gravel road. This is okay as plenty of roads in WV are gravel that we’ve travelled. When the road turned to dirt we got nervous and when this road was growing grass we were terrified. On the passanger’s side was a two foot rail made of natural trees the size of the truck tire and on the driver’s side was vegetation so close that some was caught in the awing arms when we finally escaped. We did finally escape.
We came to the end of the road with a no non-sense vehicle barrier that would hold in a rhino. With no place to turn around we both started swearing. Viciously. Brent threatened the GPS to within an inch of it’s life and I started giggling. We were going to have to back out of here.
I grabbed the video camera and jumped out to help guide Brent. He was still cursing as he starting going backwards. A mile later we found a possible spot to turn around our thirty-two foot trailer. We were losing time by the buckets, but I couldn’t help but laugh and Brent started laughing too.
Of course, Brent didn’t really start laughing until we’d turned around and were heading out of this Texas Chainsaw inspired back road complete with dilapidated buildings and frightening pit bulls tied at the ends of sturdy chains.
As soon as we escaped from this trail the GPS advised us to turn right again on a gravel road. I looked at Brent with a smile and a nod “have you learned nothing?” I asked.
He laughed and started off down the gravel road with these words echoed in my head “it’s only two miles”. Yikes.
We saw many interesting dwellings created with a mobile home base and often held up with an old tractor on our gravel road out to highway fifty. Every time I’d get nervous Brent would say stuff like “look they have hydro, so a hydro truck must come down these roads on occassion.” I felt oddly reassured as the dust kicked up and we watched a man digging a hole in his front lawn with an ancient backhoe.
“Where do they get their equipment?” Brent asked every time we saw a track loader or a beautiful four wheel drive tractor parked next to the double wide.
We were silent as we turned onto our first paved road in several days. As the mountains and valleys fell behind us and we reached the flats of western New York and were comforted to be close to home, yet sad that our Honeymoon adventure was coming to a close.