The flight to Roanoke was aboard one of those propeller planes that my dad would refuse to get on. Sitting near the wing certainly made for a noisy ride. The one advantage of flying at some ungodly hour was that I had a full day ahead. It had certainly been snowing in Roanoke. The snow was somewhere between ankle and knee height as I discovered when veering off the path just outside of the airport. I got the impression that they are accustomed to snow here with the roads clear and plenty of snow ploughs doing their thing. More often than not hotels let you check-in early. It’s hardly like they’ll be full on a winter Monday morning in Roanoke. That said there’s always a chance that some jobsworth receptionist will tell you to come back at 3pm. Thankfully the nice lady behind the desk let me have the room at about 10am.
The opening sentence of Roanoke’s Wikitravel page describes the city as charming. That wasn’t too far wide of the mark. The city centre is quite small but pleasant to walk around and reasonably vibrant, with a fair few shops and restaurants. They seem to love those vintage advertisement signs around here, both painted onto wall and attached to on tops of building.