The sun was out and the winter day was crisp, so the ride up and over into the Hollow was gorgeous. The beeches still had their leaves, and beneath the towering oaks and poplars, they danced in the slight breeze. People always talked about the beauty of spring, but I thought winter was the forgotten stunner.
The Hollow was a narrow passage up into the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Many of the residents there had originally lived further up the mountainside but had been forced out when Roosevelt commissioned the Shenandoah National Park. People were still pretty bitter about the way their land had been taken from them, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. It was a nasty little bit of Virginia history.
Maybe that’s where the reputation about the Hollow being dangerous and backwards ha
