Bristol,VA-Glendale Springs, NC 10/28 120 driving miles; 12 walking miles

We've finally done it; we've turned South.  You wouldn't have known it from our travels today, though. We began with a stroll through downtown Bristol. Up one side of State street we were in Tennesse. Down the other side we were in Virginia. Our "best" human of the day, Danny Eller, a Bristol, Tennessee police officer patiently answered our questions and enlightened us on the happenings of his town. For lunch, we stopped in Abingdon, VA, a quaint little (8,000 pop.) village. From there we did what we've been doing lately. We twisted and turned on the mountain roads until we ended up in Glendale Springs, NC. We came here, I found out, to feed our souls. A fresco artist named Ben Long has painted pictures in several churches (5 in Charlotte). We visited two today. In the first church, the primary painting in of Christ on the cross with a father figure behind, welcoming him. The message is our creed: Christ has died; Christ is Risen; Christ will come again. The second church, which is here in Glendale Springs has a painting of the Last Supper. The message here is more complex (We humans are works in progress): It says those who come to this table are not what they were, nor are they what they will be. That's the good news, which is why I believe that life is good, especially today.

The street is literally the state line.

I love train stations. Bristol, VA is awesome.

We still have a little color.

Danny Eller. He didn't even think about body slamming me.

Food for the soul.

One vision of agony.

Wood carving of Christ in the wilderness.

Pen and ink etching oozing its agony.

Fresco paintings are not on the wall; they are the wall. If I were you, I'd make a pilgrimage here to be in the presence of this piece.

The ever doubting, Thomas.

To us, Christ invites, "Come to my table,  I have a chair ready for you."

He'll even take a hobo like me. That's me sporting my pig eating grin.

I may be grinning, but Ed thinks he's a mountain music star. (I think we better get out of these mountains; they're getting to us).