On a recent trip, we had spent the night in Lynchburg, Va., on the way back toward home after a stay in Hampton, Va.
Our destination the next day, in addition to other sites, was the Peaks of Otter Lodge on the Blue Ridge Parkway, a location that we had fond memories of on a trip taken back in 1977-78.
Upon leaving the motel, I plugged in the ”Peaks of Otter” into our GPS system and hoped for the best.
I expected the female voice to give us a rather direct route so we could cover the distance is as short a span of time as possible.
I had read stories where people followed the directions from their GPS to literally the “ends of the earth” and ended up in a lot of trouble. One example, I believe, took the people to the end of a dead end road somewhere out in a desert.
We weren’t near any desert, but I was a little apprehensive upon receiving the second command from our female leader.
We turned right off the major highway at an early juncture of the trip and were directed down this country road that at times was barely large enough for a vehicle and a half. It was early in the day, there was civilization all around, so we decided to give in to her directions.
We went north, then took a left turn, meandered over hills and through valleys as the morning sun started moving high into the sky.
But then, after a little while, I started to wonder just where we were going. I wish I had a print out of our leaders directions, so that I could retrace the route.
After about an hour and a half, we finally heard the much anticipated words, something like, “Peaks of Otter, 1.2 miles on the right.”
Having attained what was soon to be the end of that part of the journey, I couldn’t help but look back to when we first headed out and what we experienced.
Next post: July 8, 2014