I miss adventure. I miss the adrenaline of taking a turn off the printed (or digital) map and just seeing where it goes, whether I’m on foot, bicycle, or car. I miss the competition that I gladly accept when hiking by myself – Can I do the next mile in under 10 minutes? Can I scramble and climb up this near vertical cliff to see what is on top? Can I stay warm and dry when it is 35 degrees and raining?
So thanks to a wonderful confluence of Cousin Camp and a Woman’s Retreat, I was a bachelor for a weekend. Saturday found me finishing my bathroom door project which involved my new router.
I was startled to find myself done by 3:00 in the afternoon, so I had time to think about the next day. I needed to pick up Evie from Huntsville, but I didn’t need to be there until around 12:30. Hmmm.
Hike some remote path between here and Huntsville? No, just not enough time.
Find a small town that has a coffee shop open and just pass the time reading the newspaper and people watching? No, not the right day of the week here in the South.
Take some backroads and see what I can find? Yeah. That sounds just right.
So I got up at a decent time, fixed another batch of home-roasted/ground/brewed coffee, and hit the road on a sunny day in February.
Towns called Bell Buckle. No buckles could be found.
Towns like Wartrace. No wart races to be found. Oh, wait, must be War Trace.
Lynchburg? Oh yeah, gotta get more familiar with that dry county.
Driving at 9/10s on deserted country roads with occasional glimpses of 11/10s. No passengers to complain!
Finding out that Buck Jones loves McKinzie. Always.
Adventure rating? C-. But better than an F.
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