My hotel was in New Market but there was still one more stop to make. At Exit 273 of US-81 in Mount Jackson, Virginia there is a pizzeria and restaurant called Valentino s Pizza and Pasta. Thursday night is always pasta night for me and tonight was no exception. Then, back in the car and back on the road, this time old US-11, the old Valley Turnpike used by Stonewall Jackson, Phil Sheridan, Jubal Early, John Mosby, and countless thousands of soldiers who marched, fought, pillaged, and burned their way up and down throughout this gentle, peaceful Valley. The nine miles between Mount Jackson and New Market were spent in darkness.
Nothing gets as dark as a Virginian night in the country.
There were no lights, no signs of life. All along the old highway I felt ghosts calling to me. I did not see these phantoms but I could hear their cries. The next day I would return to this road and I would confront these warlike ghosts in their milieu. Tonight, however, I could only sense them, hear them, and relate to them.