Last few days in Virginia: Trip Summary

After three months in Raleigh, I needed a reset. Even hiking couldn’t shake the feeling that I was cut off from nature. Maybe city life just isn’t for me. To be fair, I was there during peak summer and mostly hid indoors.

Virginia was a last-minute leap that landed. I searched Furnished Finder for anything within five hours and found a cabin in Willis, VA. The landlord already had Labor Day booked but offered me a month—through August 28. I hesitated (it meant a short Airbnb gap later), then booked it. He was kind—no deposit. The place wasn’t spotless, but I’ve stayed in worse. The view outside was spectacular.

From my window

Willis sits high on the Blue Ridge Plateau, a wide-open sweep of hills and hayfields where mornings feel cooler and the sky seems closer. It’s an unincorporated spot along U.S. 221, a ribbon of road that climbs and curls past farmsteads; the tiny community even has its own post office. Long before the GPS pin said “Willis,” the area’s mail stop was called Greasy Creek, later Hylton—small names, slower times. Floyd County itself dates to 1831, named for Governor John Floyd. Blue Ridge Parkway was just 20 minutes away with amazing views along the way.

Days fell into a gentle rhythm. I’d wake to a wall of birdsong—one morning Merlin ID counted 15 species—and make coffee while the mist burned off the pasture. Weekdays were busy with work, but I recharged on a shaded bench, doing nothing but listening. No traffic. No human noise. Just wind in the trees and that old fridge kicking on and off. When evenings turned cool, I fed a small fire in the stove and traded the TV fireplace for a real crackle. This is how life should sound.

On cold days there was a wood burning stove

Something bit my eyelid the first night—ominous start—but bugs were surprisingly chill after that. Even mosquitos were rare. A little stream ran a tenth of a mile down the road; maybe balance keeps the biters in check when the food web is intact.

I did miss a gym and restaurants. I’m not sure I could live this remote year-round, but a three-month retreat each year? That feels right.

Weekends were for wandering. Buffalo Mountain’s short, steep trail popped me onto a rounded summit with 360° views and tough little plants clinging to magnesium-rich soils—an alpine-ish island at nearly 4,000 feet. On the way down, the air smelled like sun-warmed pine and crushed mint.

Another day when my friend was visiting me I followed the Blue Ridge Parkway to Mabry Mill, where water still turns the wheel of one of Appalachia’s most photographed mills. Ed and Lizzy Mabry once ground corn, sawed lumber, and did blacksmithing here—a tidy, practical world powered by a creek. If you time it right, old-time music drifts across the lawn on Sunday afternoons. 

Practicalities were simple. The cabin had what I needed; having stocked up in Raleigh, I grabbed groceries in Christiansburg or at the farmer’s market on weekends. The most unpleasant task was hauling trash to the dumpster 6 miles away - there was no curbside pick up. Most days I walked or ran the “neighborhood,” which meant acres between houses—my kind of spacing.

Least favorite part: loose dogs. Two big ones barked hard near a trailhead; others just sounded the alarm as I passed. I like dogs, but after a Grand Canyon bite, I’m cautious around unleashed ones.

The cat loved it. Open windows, sun puddles, a quiet room with a bed he immediately claimed. I watched twenty minutes of YouTube or Kanopy at night (the only TV was in the bedroom), then listened to the night for a while.

The floor-to-ceiling windows were just the right size for him

Our evening routine

That is how yoga should be done...

Trying to fit in the area of the sun.

That month in Willis reminded me what actually restores me: space, silence, a sky busy with birds—and the feeling that life can be both slower and fuller at the same time.

My last day was supposed to be Thursday, but I ended up leaving on Tuesday early morning as around 11 PM on Monday my cat found a mouse in the cabin and was trying to attack it. I saw the little mouse's scared eyes and could not let it die, so I locked my cat in the bathroom - the only room with a door in the cabin - and blocked the room with boxes that I already packed. Let's just say that night I slept for an hour before packing my car at 5 AM and heading out at 6.30 to my friend's house in Knoxville where I was going to stay regardless for several days. While my trip ended with a bit of a negative note, the overall stay at the cabin was very refreshing.