In an earlier entry I spoke about a week of adventuring where day one was a somewhat misguided hike in the Blue Ridge. After the exciting, if harrowing, hiking adventure what more could this road trip reap in excitement you might ask. Oh but it was the gift that just kept on giving. Too often we use the wrong lens in spectacular locations and then later wish we’d had more planning or forethought. That would be today’s regret. I should have been using a wider angle lens, because I missed the opportunity of a lifetime simply because I didn’t look just an hour ahead. Shortsighted, I know. And a sad price I will pay for this one, I completely missed the shots, actually two entire photo shoots in fact.
So my next destination after the Blue Ridge Parkway was supposed to be Trans Allegheny Lunatic Asylum. These days there are much more politically correct ways to word that, but for this photographer and writer the name alone inspires the chilly willies and if you know the history of said location and asylums themselves, then you can understand the appropriateness of its name.
Alas, I didn’t make that location for one very compelling reason. The never ending climb of the night before, the stairs upon stairs upon stairs, had me expecting to be sore and tired and a little ragged on the dawning of the second day. It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected it to be, but I didn’t pack the car the night before since I got home many hours later than anticipated. So I hit the skip button on that one, instead going back on a future weekend. More to come, I’m sure. So instead I hit the road around midday.
I went through West Virginia on my way to New England, so I thought I’d stop by the New River Gorge and gauge the leaf change for my return drive. I got to the gorge, because late was apparently my theme for the weekend, forty five minutes before sunset. I had time to grab a map, walk around the closed visitor center, look out over the river and see that the tree change there was headed much the way our local change was going, dull and gloomy. I’d been sadly disappointed for about the third or fourth year in a row.
Now mind you, I was on my way to Pennsylvania and then on to New York, car packed up, a cooler in the back with the week's food and drinks, packed bag with clothes and all my camera equipment. This trip was about photographing leaves and cemeteries and several of my bucket list places. A hybrid trip, part work, part pleasure, all fun in my book.
But in this particular instance, might I point out where I was and when. With all the equipment I needed to do something very particular. As I’m driving away, about thirty minutes down the road, I start to see a most stunning sunset to my left. Which is when it hit me, I was right there, empty overlooks facing the sunset over the New River Gorge, on a photo trip nonetheless. I’m such a ditz some days. Then, about the time the last rays of light disappeared, what appeared on my right on the horizon, but the biggest, most beautiful full moon of the year. That would have been on the opposing horizon, over the other side of the gorge. Off the same overlook.
Needless to say, I was disappointed in myself. Strike two on this vacation full of potential and hope. A literal once a year opportunity and for me, probably a lifetime without a lot of planning and organizing, which I obviously suck at! I sighed and plowed on into the night.
