Thursday 4/4 Washington D.C. – Shenandoah Natl Park, VA
Oh blogish nation, members of that less than half club half as well liked as deserved – a deeply felt apology is in order. We’ve been gone too long. In the wise wise words of Theodore Suess – “A blog is a slog, and the log which forgot his clogs hates the fog.” We are sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long. If one is oriented towards metals and linearity, one might remember that, as I always say, the longer the drum roll the stronger the sum total.
Anyway, my best excuse for our extended absence is that the gruelling demands of the American Capitalist system forced us to sell our morals and stoop to the ultimate disgrace, job applications, which robbed us of valuable wi-fi time. The wait is finally over the my friends – we’re back!
After thoroughly raiding the Ruesshold kitchen we left DC feeling rather stressé. We’d stayed long enough that our toes were starting to sink into the sand, and, as I’ve found is often the case, extraction and excavation afforded us rather more unpleasant feelings than anticipated. Our remaining downloaded radiolab episode was 60 words, a really well done exploration of the legal basis of the United States ongoing “war on terror,” and a more thourough understanding of all the bullshit baked into the terminology “associated forces” rather rather cranked up the wrath of the slugbug locality.
Thus, we arrived in Shenandoah in search of reasons to have a bad time. Instead, we found the bar none nicest drive I’ve done drived (admittedly that covers the grand total of 3 moons). The Blue Ridge Parkway is equal parts tremolo breeze, almost too frequent breath snatching overlooks, and smooth as all heck twisties. It’s also a nice spot to really appreciate the road’s coloric namesake. Les Ridges Bleu are straight up Cookie Monster. They without a doubt formed a 1980s trio, create their own instruments, and toured theatres around the world. They made delicious texas ice cream and in 2015 recalled thanks to listeriosis. In one of Danny’s visions they formed a rose, which grew out of a chink in The Wall and convinced fan boys everywhere that Jon Snow’s a Targaryan. (This name blue things game is rather fun. Gimme your best in the comments below. Lets get some of that community interaction going you know).
By the time we stopped in the Big Meadows campsite, it was clear our plans to try our first of the BestHikesBook would have to be bounced to a day of more remaining hours. Instead we made funny faces at the nice woofer one sight over, spilled some orange juice in our beans n rice, and gave the new and holeless sleeping pad its first go. Slep was bebésque.