Project Eveningland

4/24/2023 Monday

Wedge, Ben, and I all agree that the rented farmhouse—our home and base of operations for the next six days—has good vibes about it. But none of us more so than Zoey, our old English sheepdog.

Our sheepdog was built for farm life, albeit on cold English moors rather than the rolling hills of Virginia. She’s happy to have her boys with her. She asks to go out back and chase the ball several times a day. And then wants to crawl in bed and nap with me, available bed space being of no concern. The gentle, warm weight of her floofy head resting on my abdomen is a salve for the wounds of the world.

There’s a tiny extra bedroom off Ben’s and my room. It’s an old attic with low sloping walls that’s been renovated. There are tiny, ancient windows along the sides, and two huge modern windows set into the far wall. They offer stunning views of wooded hills and a perfect perch from which to contemplate both the pastoral wonders of Virginia, and the virtues of rest, real rest, in the middle of an arduous journey.

The multi-day feast packed by my mother, which included wonderful vegetarian options for Wedge, meant that there was no need to leave, no need to do anything except rest and eat and sort through stuff and make lists. Also napping, and dumb TV. During said TV I sat eating perfectly cut fruit in micro portions with a tiny knife and fork because it’s calming, so very calming. There’s something about a giant pile of food that really takes away the joy for me. I’d rather get up over and over and eat sequential tiny portions. This realization is yet another milepost along my slow transformation into an American Poirot. I may not be a great detective, but I grow fussier by the year.

We are planning a 20 mile slackpack tomorrow. We aren’t starting too early, nor rushing to catch a shuttler, so I see it as the perfect arrangement. Ben is happy to come back down and get us when we are ready. I want to savor the sights of McAfee and Tinker Cliffs!

Think of Wedge and I as the protagonists in a very formulaic hero movie. We’re temporarily out of the action, at a house in the country, nursing our battle wounds and contemplating the challenges ahead. Cinematic reference points: first live action Ninja Turtles film; all the Avengers films where they go to a farmhouse for an act break.

What does our farmhouse montage look like? Perhaps martial arts in a field at sunset? Lifting heavy things in the barn? Maybe an epiphany while mending a fence? I myself prefer to have realizations while eating pork chops, twice-baked potatoes, salad, fresh strawberries, pineapple, watermelon, and homemade chocolate chip cookies. Oh and about fifty slices of good bread toasted and spread with loads of butter. I guess it’s an eating montage.

Don’t forget, you can watch Wedge’s account of this and other days on his YouTube channel: https://youtube.com/@Wedgehikestheat. To sync up the blog and the videos, just match up the day number.