Blue Ridge Parkway Scenes

I got positive comments from my last series of pictures from the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia so on my most recent trip I took a few more. These scenes are typical, yet for all that as evocative in a mountainous way as water scenes are in the Florida Keys.

I love the open sunlit valleys of the Blue Ridge Mountains of southwest Virginia, of high elevation yet not shade filled deep cut valleys that eliminate sunlight.

The Parkway is a famous road that carries it's fame modestly. The surface is smooth as commercial vehicles are banned. The roadside verges are newly cut like lawns, the fences are as much decorative as useful.

It is a road much loved by motorcycle riders despite the ridiculously low 45mph speed limit. It is a road designed for contemplation and meditation not adrenaline.

Farmers own crops right up against the commercial free Federal lands that protect this narrow strip of communal roadway.

There are lots of turn outs and I was amused to see how quickly the bikes would stop, snap a quick one and keep on trucking.

The road enticed them back. Cheyenne and Sandra and I breathed in the woodsy air and sniffed the hummus under the trees and felt the springy fresh grass as we individually contemplated the woods around us.

Here came a dual sport rider probably only wearing the helmet because its required in the Commonwealth, but being a non conformist I liked his absurdly informal dress.

A quick peek at the scenery through his visor and off he went without even turning off his single cylinder behemoth.

Crumble and decay like a vacation postcard for the too harried to stop:

The irony of the large sign on the back of their trailer probably didn't occur to these speedy Québécois.

I really like how the trees over shadow the roadway. I have often wondered why the Overseas Highway doesn't have a Ron of palms lining the roadway shading cars and cyclists as they go.

Another quick pic in situ and off they rode.

I saw flowers...






...and insects...






...and toadstools...






...and gnarly living tree bark...

...and finally one rider, another Frog Canadian who got off his machine and savored the spot for a minute or two.

And then it was back to the non rat race.






And I was there kind of not wanting to be disloyal to my dog...






...but at the same time wanting to be a bit disloyal to my chum...

...because it occurred to me it is time I ride the parkway properly on my Bonneville.


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Mount Vernon, Virginia

Northern Virginia is in essence a suburb of the mighty Nation's Capital, the District of Columbia, the city named for the first President, the General who commanded the Revolutionary Continental Army, the man who embodies the start of the new nation in the New World.

However the reverence one might expect for George Washington's home is hardly in evidence in the hectic traffic of suburban Fairfax County. We saw just two hastily erected little brown signs pointing toward the fabled home.

Once there we found a highly organized reception for the hordes of visitors. I found the bronze statue of the President his wife and grandchildren to be a bit startling. Cheyenne ignored them.

Washington inherited Mount Vernon when he was 22 and enlarged it and worked on it for the next 40 years. He had an 800 acre farm and like Thomas Jefferson listed his profession as farmer in the first census.

Washington was a slave owner of course and maintained an active farm experimenting with various crop growing techniques, harvesting seeds and attempting to grow secure hedgerows around his fields. That heritage is continued today with vegetable gardens and orchards on the fifty acres still surrounding the home.

The crops still grow in orderly rows and animals are kept in fields between the house and the tidal Chesapeake waters on the east side of the home.

It is a living museum too with an active blacksmith, and collections of carriages and farm implements from the era.

It was a baking hot day when we were there and Cheyenne took her usual dunking in a convenient ditch.

She was observed by a curious squirrel, an animal unknown in the Florida Keys but which, also as usual, excited no interest whatsoever in my dog.

The house was bathed in a peculiar heatwave of tropic proportions when I was there with temperatures well above ninety degrees. For those not used to the tropics it was a bit too warm.

But visitors pressed doggedly on touring the out buildings and grounds.

With Cheyenne raising rather too much interest wherever we went I rather felt like pressing on t the main event rather than studying outhouses kitchens and black smith operations among the hordes of young people on vacation field trips.

They were around the grounds all over the place and it did occur to me that Mount Vernon might be better visited in the dead of winter when the industrious little tykes are trapped indoors at their desks.

Mount Vernon is quite the attraction, no longer simply the private residence of the first President.

It is a shrine, a pilgrimage destination.




A place to contemplate.

I had to compare Mount Vernon to Monticello and I came away from the two tours with quite different impressions of the men who called these two ancient Virginia shrines home.

George Washington had a capable wife, money and a stern character and it comes through in the order and well developed property that is still visible and cultivated.

I was surprised to see a banana tree in the garden but apparently they do grow here but they just don't fruit as the do in the tropical Florida Keys.

Aside from the commercial aspects of this operation I preferred Monticello because perhaps Jefferson himself was less accessible and more mysterious, a true genius, flawed and complex and secret where as Washington appears more easily appreciated and understood. A simpler man than Jefferson with his complex ingenuity.

Then there is the fact that Mount Vernon is just 16 miles from the District of Columbia and is thus located nowadays in suburban hell. Monticello is a rural backwater outside the chaos of Northern Virginia.

It was too hot and too crowded to do the place justice but I want to go back with fewer crowds and easier access to the man's tomb, the docks and the extensive grounds. It was a good start seeing this famous place for the first time.



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Civil War Hanging Rock

Driving back to Roanoke from visiting George Washington's home on the Chesapeake we stumbled into the battle field of Manassas, picturesque and filled with walks to be explored another time. Similarly taking Cheyenne for an early morning walk I came across another more modest battlefield from the era, hardy noticed but impeccably maintained.

This state is packed with an unfair proportion of historic sites.

On June 21st 1864 a Union column retreating from a defeat at Lynchburg was intercepted on the Great Road to Salem (modern Route 11) in a small defile called Hanging Rock, and the Federals got their asses handed to them on a plate.

Confederate cavalry General Robert Ransom chased the retreating soldiers of Union General David Hunter and caught them here mangling their cannons and baggage train and ambulances such to make life difficult for the Federal Army.

Nowadays at seven am on a weekday the place is serenity itself, the perfect spot to contemplate life with your dog.

There is a quiet stream gurgling alongside the dirt trail...

...and I suppose a particular rock such as this must have given the place it's name.

Cheyenne likes an early morning tipple...

...so she got busy with the fresh cold stream water. I think Virginia is heaven for my dog, with it's luscious grasses good for sleeping on or eating, cool breezes and generally mild temperatures.

I have no idea what animal left a scent on the trail but Cheyenne found it. She isn't used to squirrels and such like so I wonder if she knew what animal had been there.

I think these are honeysuckle but I am going out on a limb as usual when I make firm pronouncements about flora.

Above, the commuters took their several and various great roads to work.

Better that than being ambushed on the trail below I suppose.


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