Everything feels lighter in the shoulder season – a time of year when the weight of the hazy summer gets blown away by cool air, the sky turns to a dark blue, and deciduous leaves turn gold in the late morning sun. I am the only passenger to step out of the train at Thurmond on Wednesday morning in mid-October. Canyon ridgelines are high and steep. The air is brisk, yet it will be at least a week before the forests turn to red. The New River is raging at a highwater swell. Waves are loud and chaotic. It’s moving fast. I cross the bridge and point my camera back to the town.