October 1, 2021

mountain cabin, West Virginia
 This is what our mountain-top vacation cabin is supposed to look like on a sunny day.


I am not a go-live-on-the-top-of-a-mountain kind of woman.

This was never more apparent to me than after spending four rainy days in the hills of West Virginia with our daughter, her roommate and her roommate's family, the Browns.

My husband and I didn't realize we'd need an SUV with four-wheel drive to get to the cabin.  We were driving a Honda Accord.  About one fourth of the way up the mountain, the bottom of our car scraped the stony road and we got wedged in the middle of nowhere without good cell-phone reception.  Luckily, we had texted the Browns our arrival time.  They met us (in a SUV with four-wheel drive) and helped us ease our car off the rocks.  With their guidance, we were able to turn around so we could head back down the mountain.     

Once we found a level, grassy place to park our car, the Browns informed us they had to go into town to get gasoline.  You see, taking us to the cabin would take 15 minutes up and 15 minutes back down for them.  As they drove away, my husband decided to walk up part of the mountain and ask a neighbor if it was okay to leave our car on their property.  And during this time, I am sitting alone in the car feeling uncomfortably abandoned.  All I had was a cell phone (with spotty reception).  My brain was racing with scary thoughts:  what if a local came out with a gun (not unheard of in Appalachia) or what if a bear spotted me?  What if a bear spotted my husband?  He was taking a ridiculously long time.  The sad thing was, during this time alone I could not take in the beauty of the scenery.  It's odd how worry can be overwhelming.  I sat by myself for what seemed the longest fifteen minutes of my life.

The backyard view from our cabin.
Finally, when my husband showed up and the Brown's returned, we began the arduous, bumpy journey up the mountain.  As we inched up the incline, ever-so-slowly at a snail's pace, trying to avoid deep ruts and huge rocks, it suddenly became apparent to my husband and I that we were going to be totally dependent on the Brown's to travel up and down the mountain, unless we wanted to walk one and half miles down a steep jagged road to our car.  And so, we felt somewhat trapped, held captive by the mountain so to speak.  God forbid there would be an emergency.  Or we should run out of wine.

When we arrived at the cabin, we found it to be spacious and comfortable with views of the surrounding hills enshrouded in clouds.  But half-way into our mini-vacation, I realized being in the mountains of West Virginia was not for me.  I wasn't stoked about campfires and having smoke permeate my clothing.  I wasn't crazy about hiking and having mud cling to my hiking boots.  I wasn't thrilled about mice and having them gnaw in the bedroom throughout the night.

Blackwater Falls, WV
This may sound like I'm giving the entire experience a bad rep, but I am extremely grateful for the opportunity to experience living in the Appalachian Mountains, having delightful company, and enjoying outstanding meals.  I had fun riding horses through the valleys and forests of W.V. and hiking (on a paved path) to Blackwater Falls.  I loved listening to the thrushes calling out from the forest at night.  But being isolated on top of a mountain brought new appreciation of living in the suburbs. 

Never again will I take for granted that I can drive to the grocery or gas station in less than five minutes and get to the house on a smooth street that takes me directly to the front door without having to negotiate a steep incline, driving over rocks the size of small boulders, or getting stuck in ruts.  I will never take for granted smoke-free clothing or clean hiking boots.  Most importantly, I will never take for granted that I can go to bed peacefully, without ever once having to set a mousetrap at the foot of my bed.  

I admire those hardy souls who can adapt so easily to a wilderness environment.  I'm not that flexible.  Being in a cabin on the tip-top of the world is fine for a few days.  But four days on a mountain is the limit for this city-dwelling gal.  

À la prochaine!