From Cranky Rah's Cave: New Writing Digs

I'm pretty sure it was Tennyson who wrote, "in the spring a cranky Rah's fancy frantically turns to thoughts of getting the heck out of Dodge." Or something like that.

In any event, it's true: When the weather starts to get nicer, I want to be free. Free! I want to shake the dust of this heavily scheduled life and go somewhere—and not always Scotland, by the way. (Okay, always Scotland, but Rah is reasonable. Rah is rational. Rah knows that she must be way, way richer before she can go always to Scotland.)

This summer has turned out to be a little more heavily scheduled so far than Rah would like it to be, but the Poet-Accountant, Ruby Hazelnut and I did manage to get away for a few days to the beautiful Shenandoah National Park in western Virginia—where, between hiking and horseback riding, I managed to do a little real estating.

I like my cave, but one never wants to get too...cave-bound, you know. One must emerge occasionally from the cave to see what other caves there are out there.

Now, Luray Caverns had a really lovely spot. Lovely lighting; not too cool, but definitely not hot. Internet connectivity might be an issue, but I'm pretty sure I could run a line down.

There was one insurmountable problem, though: dealing with unwelcome visitors. Something like 400,000 people tromp through there each year, which is like 399,999 too many for me.

Next, I thought Why not think outside the cave? Maybe there are other options, some of which don't involve massive quantities of vitamin D to prevent rickets. (Some people say you should suffer for your art, but that's not the kind of suffering I'm into.)

Anyway, so we hiked up the strangely named Hawksbill Mountain (isn't it the case, the Poet-Accountant asked, that hawks have beaks and not bills?) to see what kind of residential opportunities there were at 4,050 feet.

At first I thought, Man, I could totally get into writing up here. The problem? Way too much vitamin D. You've seen my skin, right? I seriously don't want to end up with lobster skin that clashes with my hair. So far, we have rickets versus cancer. Not a pretty choice.

I figured that was it; There's no place like home. A cave in need is a cave indeed and all that. Then we went on our final hike. And there it was! The cave of all caves! Rah's new writing digs!

Do you see it there, tucked under that massive boulder? I'm telling you, this place has everything. Fresh water, a nice sunny spot above (take that, vitamin D deficiency!) and an impenetrable driveway:

Just the place to retreat to while doing that most horrifying of things: querying agents. Gulp.

Rah Does Not Live By Words Alone

Usually when Ruby Hazelnut goes out of town, I tell all my friends to pretend I am also out of town—or that I have been abducted by aliens. I have, in fact, never been abducted by aliens and have no interest in being abducted by aliens (though for the record, if I was abducted by aliens I would totally ask them what's up with this whole dark matter nonsense, because I'm pretty sure physicists are just making that up because they are totally stumped). The point is: When one is abducted by aliens, one is unavailable for coffee or lunch or general socializing. And that is how I like everyone to behave when Ruby Hazelnut is out of town, so I can write all day long, every day.

Last week, I did break tradition for one day, to go on a 30-mile bike ride with the Poet-Accountant. I did this for two reasons:

1. It is generally considered a good idea to hang out with one's spouse occasionally. More so on one's 18th anniversary. This is how one has another anniversary.
2. Rah loves to ride. Especially long distances. It airs out the brain. And Cranky Rah's brain definitely needs to be aired out. Frequently.

We rode on the C&O Canal Towpath, which is my favorite place to ride, ever. It goes up past the falls of the Potomac River, which is one of the Beautiful Places of the world.

See, here's proof I occasionally leave my cave:

That thing I'm looking at is a river. Crazy, right? (Actually, I seem kind of unimpressed in the picture, but that's just me getting into a good brood.) You think of the Potomac River as that wide placid water making its lazy way past George Washington's digs, but before it gets there, it is this wild foaming thing.

You don't have to bike to enjoy this amazing place; you can just park at Great Falls and walk over. But you should totally bike it if you're ever in the area. The towpath was made for mules to tow barges up the canal, it's really flat and a super easy ride. 

Our next ride? Probably a two-day on the almost-finally-finished Capital Trail, which will run from Richmond to Williamsburg.