I've loved living in West Virginia for most of my adult life. I am guessing I enjoyed it as a kid, but I definitely didn't take pride in it or liking it. Looking back, it was only after I'd left it for some time that I really started to see and appreciate its beauty and unique offerings. Wheeling, while endowed with its own collection of beauty and activities, really becomes quite boring and traditional when you head south (well, north, east and then south). Driving down I-79, the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains (foothills are no more exciting than regular hills) begin to melt away, and the lumbering Appalachians begin to creep up on you. Strikingly different from driving into the Rockies, driving into the Appalachians brings a spectrum of greens, and so for me, breathes life into your drive. Rather than the hills and valleys I'm used to having around me, which sometimes say, "hey, I'm here, you should come and climb me sometime," the real Appalachians say, "hey, there's no denying I'm here, and I dare you to try to climb me." Perhaps it's a bit imagined on my part, but when I travel deeper into West Virginia's landscape, I get an overwhelming sense that everything is so much bigger than I am. The benefit of this? Worries and trifles are shifted right into their place.
So, last weekend, I drove down to Coopers Rock and chose the Ravens Rock Trail for a mini-adventure. This is a fun trail for hiking because it's not hugely challenging, so you can enjoy the scenery a bit but also feel confident on the trail. There's a little bit of a climb at the end of the trail, but man is it worth it because you plateau, and then you hit it. You hit the overlook into the Cheat River Canyon, and it's breathtaking. Talk about remembering how small you really are--I'm convinced there's not a better (more beautiful) reminder out there. And so, I made my way to the edge of the outcropping and sat down to take in the--well, everything. When I looked up, there was a huge hawk, floating round and round in circles above. And then there was a second. And they just kept flying in these circles, higher and higher up into the air. As I observed them, it hit me that sometimes when things grow to feel overwhelming, we will say we need to step back. For me, this has always meant sort of checking out of whatever is causing the stress. But, what I started to realize is that these hawks were on to something. As they went higher and higher, their perspective would grow to be wider and wider--in my mind, giving everything a place, allowing it room and room to breathe. So, these hawks taught me something in minutes that I hadn't thought of before. Even more? The smooth and controlled beauty of their flight was entrancing and also appeared effortless.
This entire moment sort of made me want to just pitch a tent and stay right there forever. What a great place to take in and how fortunate I feel to have it right at my fingertips whenever I want it. Thank you, West Virginia--my forever host.
