The Journey is the Destination

4000 miles and 1600 photographs later, I have completed the first edition of my search for the real America. Don't be alarmed, I have only included a handful of the photos here in the blog, which I have named "The Sticks". I don't mean any disrespect by choosing this name. After all, I live in the Sticks, I vacation in the Sticks, and my ancestors are the quintessential founding fathers (mother and cousins) of the Sticks. Let's face it, I could have called the site Bumfuck, Egypt or the Boondocks, which I felt were disparaging and reflected a shade that discolored the view I wanted to capture.

My son traveled with me on the first half of this trip. While we were both road weary by the time we got out of West Virginia, I am pretty sure that we both have a greater perspective on the overwhelming array of people and places in our country. 4000 miles didn't scratch the surface of even a fraction of the regions through which we traveled. Additionally, I have included a few anecdotal notes as well as one or two interesting notes on the photos.

The journey is the destination, and the destination the journey. This trip to see the sights beyond the interstates has only just begun.

How the Peaks of Otter got their picturesque name has long been a matter of research and learned controversy. One thing appears definitely established: Neither they nor the streams that rise in their foothills and are called Big Otter and Little Otter were so named because of any swarms of the little animals of that name. Not in historical times have any otters been found in the streams of this area. (Thomas A. Markham)
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