Day 65: Drowning Sorrows
It’s been a day of driving, and very little photographing. There’s really not all that much to say about it, it hasn’t been one of the better days, my mind has been absent thinking about other things, and much of what I passed today just wasn’t all that interesting either.
I did drive through Ohio’s Amish countryside however, which was a curious experience, not only seeing Amish people in their horse buggies or on bicycles, but seeing the exploitation of their culture that co-exists with it. The town of Berlin is the hub, the town itself looks like a tourist spot, lots of people and all these cutesy shops selling what-have-you. It’s kind of bizarre, and I can’t even imagine what it must be like to be one of the Amish and have your culture become a tourist destination, as if you’re animals in a zoo. Very strange.
After that I had a fixation that I really wanted to check out West Virginia, seeing as I only got to see a tiny little corner of it on the way west. It was one hell of a detour, and for the most part there wasn’t all that much to see, but I did get to drive a rather scenic road through the lush, green rolling hills where no towns line the road, just spots of civilization. There weren’t even that many places you could stop, so I didn’t get very many shots.
The drive ended in Weston, which was a really interesting little town. Maybe it was the dreary weather, but it really felt gloomy, kind of falling apart in that way West Virginia seems to (hard to describe, it just has a certain look and feel to it). The gloomy feel was probably also aggravated by the massive former state hospital/asylum whose grounds look like it takes up as much space and the town center across the creek. It was closed by the time I got there, but it was really cool to see if only from afar.
Heading north on the interstate, and making a few stops in Bridgeport and Clarksburg before daylight faded, the dreary clouds started pouring. I’ve been very fortunate this whole trip weather-wise, and that was probably the heaviest rain I’ve had so far.. But it would get worse.
After being turned away at the door at my planned (but unbooked) motel in Morganstown, West Virginia, the closest I could find in the right direction was in Somerset, Pennsylvania, some 80 miles away. Luckily it wasn’t terribly late at that point, but the road to Somerset offered even more and heavier rain, and on a tiny little curvy road too. Not only haven’t I had to drive in such heavy rain before on this trip, I don’t think I’ve ever had such fierce rainfall in my whole life.
It does seem fitting that the last night on the road mirrors so many past nights on this trip; driving along lonely, small, winding roads.
