We had to cross the Blue Ridge Mountains in order to get from Virginia to North Carolina. I’m not sure I can do the experience justice — we departed in the early afternoon, and by around midnight we were still traveling down what seemed to be an endless, twisting road through what seemed to be the middle of nowhere in every meaningful sense. There were scattered houses and farms, but they were all scattered apart from each other so that each resident or family lived in isolation. Once we got high enough, when we looked up at the sky we saw clouds so close it seemed you could capture one with nothing more than a jar and a step ladder.
Everything about the mountains, particularly at sunset, was absolutely stunning. It wasn’t hard to see why there are a thousand folk songs about them.
Speaking of which, here’s a video of Ali and I performing one of our favorite old traditional tunes, “My Home’s Across the Blue Ridge Mountains,” while in the Blue Ridge Mountains. We’re more than a little rusty, so it’s not exactly the Doc Watson/Clarence Ashley version, but it was a blast to record.
