On the Road—an Appalachian Adventure in a Car
***Originally Published July 17th, 2023
The rolling green hills of Appalachia swept along the grey concrete highways carrying me down ancient pathways.
A loud cool breeze through my window and scattered whirring of car engines was my modern orchestra—travelling was no longer the slow and peaceful jaunt with chirping birds and falling squirrels the Natives had to suffer through just five or six hundred years ago.
I was halfway to Pennsylvania—3.5 hours out of West Virginia–but it had only felt like 15 minutes. The universe seemed to tick on by, and I realized it has always been like this.
Going by.
And all there was to do was watch myself drive.
I felt like I could go forever; I could be wherever.
I thought of Dean Moriarity hunched forward over the wheel of his truck with that incessant stream of consciousness—half-gibberish half-genius—spewing over the wheel into the car before being released out the window and splattered over the open highways.
Every sentence every word every thought every feeling was given its moment of ascension into reality—into heaven!!, then quickly left behind and left to rest.
I think I caught the bug.
The urge to always be going somewhere, to always be On the Road.
The last couple of weeks I spent 30 hours driving along East Appalachia all the way from Pennsylvania down to Atlanta and right back up.
Here’s a couple weeks of my little “On the Road” adventure.
”I smoked a joint that I'm sure everyone around me smelled, stretched a little, and passed out”
After working at the PlayThink festival in Kentucky, I prepared to head back to West Virginia. I left late: around 6pm on Sunday after a much much needed shower.
On my way out, craving tobacco, I saw someone packing up his car smoking something so I summoned up the chatty kathy in my soul and went on over to ask if I could roll something.
And chat like a Kathy I did! As I rolled a cigarette we talked about living out of cars.
He had been doing it for years, and had plenty of advice and stories and recommendations for places to visit and things to laugh about together!
The two places I think he recommended were (I wrote this down somewhere but writing this down now a year later) were Taos, New Mexico, and the hot springs there with a free campground a mile walk or so away, and a beach in Hawaii.
Apparently, in Hawaii, there’s a beach where dozens of people live for the winter completely free of charge—its an oasis for Vagabonds.
I wrote his number down but I don’t know if I still have it anywhere.
Leaving the festival, I decided to drive a couple of hours to Miguels Pizza in Kentucky to stay for the night, rather than making the 5 hour drive all the way back to WV.
Miguels is only $3.50/night, or $95/month, and has showers, bathrooms, wi-fi, a pizza/breakfast shop, a dishwashing station, and is right next to some of the best sport climbing in the Eastern United States.
I had almost moved here initially instead of the New.
It was fairly empty then—it's late in the season for climbing: too hot and humid—and I found a nice spot at the back end of the field next to a picnic table.
I smoked a joint that I'm sure everyone around me smelled, stretched a little, and passed out grateful for the flat ground on my aching back.
Loud music echoed across the campground until late and I felt like an old man lying there, missing the quiet running water and chattering bugs I had in West Virginia.
The next morning I settled back into my ritual of making coffee and oatmeal with peanut butter mixed in.
Working the festival had been a break of sorts as I didn't have any time to plop down in front of my computer and worry about work.
But it also hadn’t given me my precious solitude.
Worrying included, there’s something extraordinarily familiar and comfortable for me about sitting back with a cup of coffee in front of my laptop.
Thankfully the Daniel Boone coffee shop is just down the road from Miguels.
It has more camping in it's backyard, a gift-shop, food, sweets, coffee, and wifi.
The girl who served me was short and cute, with a round smiling face and long black hair that fell almost to her elbows and slightly curled at the ends. She had a Kentucky lilt to her voice and a busy air.
I got a big chocolate brownie with walnuts with my coffee and had a wonderful time slowly nibbling it down over the next hour as I started the rough draft of my PlayThink blog post.
But despite the beauty of Kentucky forests, climber friendly campground and cheap amenities, West Virginia was calling me back.
The forests there are thicker, the ridges taller, and the rivers wider.
So after spending a day in Kentucky I drove back to West Virginia to spend the night at my favorite campsite by the Gauley river in Summersville.
Then I was pulled away once again.
“It felt like a little New England paradise hidden from the violence of the larger country. ”
The next day I drove 6.5 to go camping with my older brother El in Cherry Springs, PA.
It was my first time camping with them. They’d be starting their summer job the next week so this was the perfect time for us to spend some together.
Pennsylvania was about halfway between West Virginia and Boston, ~6/7 hours for each of us.
It was my first time in the forests of Pennsylvania, and the Susquehannock State Forest was fucking gorgeous.
About an hour and a half of my drive was through the various State forests winding through roads canopied by young trees, riding along small streams or creeks, and through towns (that were more like villages) littered among the hills.
Camps, small ponds, and wood cottages tucked behind trees littered the roadside. It felt like a little New England paradise hidden from the violence of the larger country.
Cherry Springs is famous for its stargazing, but it rained the first night so we weren’t able to see much.
The second night was partly cloudy, but enough was clear to enjoy laying down on the picnic table and staring at the sky for thirty minutes.
Pennsylvania was beautiful, and a lot more built out and a lot less wild than good ol’ West Virginia. Campsites were ~$25-30 each with well established amenities.
Cherry Springs was completely booked up on that Tuesday—except for one campsite that I guess they leave open for people like my family that never reserve anything.
My next destination was Atlanta. About a 13 hours drive South of where I was.
I drove a couple hours out of the forest the first morning before stopping at a Dunkin Donuts in Altoona to get some work done, as I didn’t have an opportunity deep in the woods of PA the past couple of days.
I continued on South and stopped a second time in Virginia near Beckley Springs at a McDonalds to play Dungeons and Dragons on the Wifi for a few hours.
I didn’t want to leave too much driving for the next day, so after DnD I drove from 9:30-11:30 in the dark and the rain.
I didn’t usually drive in the dark, and it was a little scary zooming down windy country roads. But it was even scarier on the highway with just me and the Semi’s on the road kicking up water in my face.
I found a free primitive campground 30 minutes off of 81 at the Slate Lick Campground in Shenandoah.
At night there I saw the most fireflies I’ve ever seen in my life. Even more than I’ve seen at Gauley or Cunard.
Like a night sky at the darkest place you could be full of blinking stars.
A flickering curtain.
Sometimes I try to imagine what it would look like if they all lit up at once.
Would it illuminate everything?
Would it illuminate anything?
“We got Chinese, Puerto Rican, and Japanese food in Atlanta.
All bomb.”
The next day I had a 9 hour drive down South.
And I started to feel more free than ever on the road.
There’s something about bombing down an open road with nothing but the whistling of the wind and the faint pattering of my mind that gives the most expansive feeling that I am free and limitless.
Lately I’ve been doing long drives without music or podcasts or anything, and it’s the most relaxing thing in the world.
I love just watching myself sit in the car and move along the country.
Part of it is that I’ve been driving up and down Appalachia, all the way from Pennsylvania down to Georgia.
The highways run up, down, and through mountains, and there are always hills and trees nearby.
It’s a really beautiful drive along the East of the Country.
My favorite parts are when I get off the interstate and onto state highways that bob and weave through the countryside.
I didn’t hit much traffic until I got outside of Charlotte and Atlanta, the biggest cities I’ve been to in a long time.
Before this, I’ve been to Boston, New York, and Nashville.
It was really nothing like Boston or New York. Closer to Nashville, but bigger–which makes sense I guess.
We walked past the massive Piedmont Park near the city center and to the Arboretum, an impressive and beautiful collection of greenhouses with trails through wooded areas and over tree canopies, all scattered with various fountains, sculptures and art.
My friend and his girlfriend had been living in the midtown area for around the past year and they knew some of the best spots for food.
We got Chinese, Puerto Rican, and Japanese food during my short stay in Atlanta.
All bomb.
The garlic eggplant at the Chinese place was not only delicious and subtle in flavor with a hint of mala (that weird tingling sensation real Szechuan peppercorn will give you), but sliced thin and layed out in a pretty ring on the plate.
The Empanadas at the Puerto Rican place were some of if not the best I’ve had in my life, especially dipped in their spicy cilantro yogurt sauce that I wanted to bottle up and put on everything I ate for the next year.
We went climbing at Boat Rock, a small area 20 minutes outside of Atlanta packed with granite boulders. The granite there is really pebbly and filled with tiny rocks and crystals, and with the humidity and heat our skin was ripped to shreds on the rock.
After Atlanta I drove up to Asheville with plans to see the city a little bit, then spend a day at Rumbling Bald, a boulder field 30 minutes southwest.
I had hoped to stay at one of the dispersed camping sites in Pisgah National Forest, northwest of Asheville, that were marked on a map off gravelly roads.
I got there late, around 10 at night, and after driving for 45 minutes down a rough gravel road and seeing every campsite taken, I gave up and pulled off somewhere to sleep in my car.
In the morning a ranger pulled up and told me I was lucky I didn't get ticketed.
Apparently sleeping in my car counted as "camping."
A little disgruntled, I left to spend the day in Asheville coffee shops working.
I visited Ultra Coffeebar in the river arts district.
This little district is famous for having a lot of empty warehouses turned into art expos. Big spaces with exposed fronts filled with all kinds of stuff like glass blowing and pottery.
The latte I had was actually incredible, and the bagel sandwich above average. The bagel was a little soft and pillowy for my taste—I like em thiq and chewy—but the flavors were on point.
I wandered around downtown a little bit but shopping areas never get me too excited.
I had a burger, which again—while above average—didn't blow me away.
I spent the night at a Walmart in Hendersonville, a 30 minute drive from Rumbling Bald. Here’s what my sleeping setup looked like:
I had breakfast near the climbing area at a tiny little mom and pop diner that had a view of the river running by town before starting my day, and got a little pre-climbing stretch in the booth.
Rumbling Bald is a huge area and I didn't have a guidebook for the climbs, so I was really hoping to meet someone there with a guidebook to find what’s what.
I did not.
I was, however, able to find some of the Boulders I'd tried the last time I was there: Dime Crack and Rotator Cuff, a V4 and V5 (I was not able to send either of them).
I also scrambled up some easier looking stuff.
I went up a V0 Boulder about 30 feet that was way too aesthetic not to climb.
And I scrambled up a couple of easy ~40ft slabs in my bare feet. Downclimbing those is always the fun (fucking terrifying) part.
My favorite climb was crescent crack, a 25ft V2 that followed a curve with good holds to the left of the crack up to a big reach to the final hold. You kinda had to walk your feet along the slope on the right as you went up it.
I met another guy there who was also climbing without a guidebook (and was also hoping to find someone with one).
He's been living out of his car for almost a year, sporting a $400 old white van he got from his buddy a few months ago.
But he wasn't just traveling.
He was working as a server at a fine dining restaurant in Florida and basically just balling out living like a king.
No rent meant an extra ~$1000/month to spend.
He'd park his van in front of an old woman's house who didn't seem to care, where a couple other homeless people lived too.
I had definitely been considering a similar lifestyle and it was pretty cool to see someone living it.
I think the hardest part would be finding a good place to park permanently. I’m sure some cities are easier to do it in too.
And for me right now, I kind of need a spot to set my tent up to sleep.
When I pack in for the night I have to reorganize my entire car to make room for myself and fill up both front seats.
And I still can’t fully stretch out–I feel kinda awkwardly shoved in there and crunched.
So either I find a friend's backyard to squat in, I buy a van big enough to live in, or I pay rent somewhere and live like a normal person.
Tough options out here.
Well that was kinda the end of my adventure.
I actually drove the four hours back to the free campsites at West Virginia the night after climbing in Rumbling Bald so I could feel settled in and rested at home.
A couple groggy days of rest later and then the Lyme disease kicked in—no idea where I got that from.
But I'll save that story for next time.
Peace and love from the trolls!
