An Unexpected Civil War Stop


Late Saturday afternoon we rolled into Staunton, Virginia, conveniently located in the heart of the beautiful Shenandoah Valley. Unbeknownst to me, it was the crowning jewel in this year’s ride. Packed with five – count ‘em, five - National Historic Districts, Staunton is known for its historic architecture and walkable downtown, boasting more than one hundred unique shops, art galleries and restaurants. In 2012,  Smithsonian Magazine named Staunton one of the best small towns in America.

So here we were, fresh off the best ride of the trip, landing in a great town with lots to explore and plenty of daylight left. Staunton, I learned, was the first Virginia community to receive a “Great American Main Street Award” from the National Trust for Historic Preservation. The architecture is indeed incredible and I spent almost as much time looking up at the magnificent cornices as I did peeking into storefront windows.

There’s a lot of Civil War history in Staunton too, a perfect coincidence, considering we hadn’t made one Civil War stop on the trip to date. The Virginia Central Railroad provided a vital link between the Shenandoah Valley and eastern Virginia, making Staunton an important Confederate supply depot. And unlike most of the surrounding areas, Staunton and its beautiful 18th and 19th century buildings escaped the war unscathed.

Trinity Church, with its historic graveyard, sits atop West Beverly Street. Beyond the iron fence, I spied the crooked limestone headstones scattered through the yard and marched towards the gated entrance. I could hear Jason sighing behind me. The beautiful brick structure features 25 magnificent stained glass windows, including 12 by Tiffany. Jason found a bench and I criss-crossed the yard, taking pictures and straining to read the barely legible headstones, including one that belonged to “Little Lou Lou” the daughter of A.M and L. DuPuy who died on Janaury 31, 1855 at the tender age of 2 years and 5 months.

There’s another cemetery in town – Thornrose Cemetery – the final resting place of more than 1700 Confederate soldiers, most of whom were removed to the yard after the war.  An impressive monument of a soldier, cast iron urns and a limestone retention wall marks the Confederate section of the cemetery.  Unfortunately, I didn’t realize this cemetery was there until after we were back at our hotel.

After our walking tour of downtown, we settled on the Mill Street Grill for dinner, a hip and classy restaurant housed in a turn-of-the-century flour mill. They boast that their barbequed baby back ribs are the best anywhere. Not one to shy away from a finger licking rib plate, we strolled over to the Mill Street Grill at 8:00, were seated almost immediately and Jason took the challenge.  What had a great experience - terrific staff, awesome ambiance and yep - the best ribs ever!

With so much to explore, we’ve decided another trip to Staunton is definitely in order. And Jason can’t wait for another plate of those baby back ribs!

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Coal Miner Country

(Blog for Thursday, June 6. Published a little late.)

Each year, as we set off on this annual summer sojourn, I try to do two things – take as many pictures as possible and learn something about the places we visit. After all, my role in this partnership is to save the details of our trip for posterity. What I’ve learned this year is that Appalachia doesn’t necessarily provide a plethora of unique photo opportunities and there isn’t much to talk about when your day consists of a series of twists, turns, sweeping curves, straightaways and switchbacks through a national forest.

The landscape is primarily flora and fauna, clusters of pine trees in various shades of green with diminutive wildflowers springing up along the streams and creeks. Small herds of cows dot the hillsides, lazily grazing in the summer sun and the vintage barns, each unique in their patina and design, stand precariously as weathered, stoic sentries to a century past. And from time to time, we’ll pass a suspendered old man sitting comfortably on his cluttered porch and he’ll wave cheerfully from his well-worn rocking chair. Of course, there’s always an opportunity to comment on the weather – soft gentle breezes blowing the perfectly puffy white clouds across the blue sky, or the gray, dismal and menacing version, ready to rain on our parade, like what we saw when we pulled back the curtains this morning. 

The forecast called for rain, and lots of it, aided and abetted by Tropical Storm Andrea, which was barreling its way up the east coast. Since we ended our ride on Wednesday in rain gear, and I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of starting Thursday in the same (un)fashion. With the rain pinging off the bike (and us), we headed towards Wytheville – taking the long road through the mountains. The weather was supposed to improve in the west, so we took the risk. I made a long distance plea to Heaven, bartering for the sun to make a cameo, if not prolonged appearance. Within an hour, the rain stopped, the clouds thinned and the sun came out. By noon, we stopped for a much-needed stretch and peeled off the rain garb, which by then was feeling more like a sauna suit.

The trip from Hillsville to Wytheville takes an hour – if you follow a straight line up Route 77, but by opting to take the long and winding road through Jefferson National Forest and the heart of Appalachia, Jason got his ride, I got my pictures, and we stayed relatively dry. The trip took seven hours along Virginia’s Coal Heritage Trail, across the mountains of Buchanan, Dickenson and Russell counties, through little towns like Haysi (population 493), Clincho (population 336) and Nora (population 566), and a host of others too small to make the map.

Coal mining has always been and continues to be the primary industry for Dickenson County. It’s a dangerous profession and explosions and death are a way of life. An explosion on the Splashdam mine took the lives of ten men in 1932. In 1983, an explosion in the McClure mine killed seven, including the first woman miner killed in Virginia. The Dickenson County Coal Miners Memorial, in front of the Clincho post office, lists the names of 309 people who lost their lives in mine related accidents.

The railroad in this area is almost as important as coal mining. The Clinchfield Railroad, completed in 1915, was built to haul coal from the region. Its tracks negotiate 277 miles across four mountain ranges and through five states, some of the most rugged terrain on the eastern United States. The legendary Clinchfield merged with the CSX in 1983, prompting James A. Goforth, retired Chief Engineer, to write his book, Building the Clinchfield, to help keep the story about this legendary little railroad that could alive for future generations.

Life in this part of the country isn’t easy, but the scenery is breathtaking. And look at this! I found something to write about!

See the pictures!
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The Ride Back to Virginia

It's a ride like the one we had today that make riding in the rain tolerable. What a great trip from Beckley, WV to Staunton, VA!

I know I'm behind, and should really take the time to write, but I think I'm going to enjoy my Orange Crush buzz and let any readers enjoy the pictures.

I promise I'll write tomorrow.
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Rain, Rain Go Away

When you travel by motorcycle, you roll the weather dice and sometimes, like today, you lose. There’s nothing worse than waking up to a weather forecast predicting an 80 percent change of rain, and peeking through the curtains to see that it’s 100 percent happening. We muttered and mumbled and waited, which we knew would only serve to delay the inevitable, so we donned the rain gear for the third time in as many days and headed out to the Harley. There was no doubt about it. We were going to get wet. Riding in the rain is never fun, and only serves to minimize my trip objectives – there is no opportunity to take pictures and my purview is limited, primarily, to the DOT sticker on the back of Jason’s helmet. Since we had the option, we deviated from our planned route and headed straight up Route 77 from Wytheville, VA to Beckley, WV. With my hands shoved firmly into my pockets, I hunkered down as best I could and used Jason’s body to shield me from the pelleting water. The ride took a little more than an hour, and surprisingly, as we pulled into Courtney and Joey’s driveway, we weren’t as wet as I had expected. And there’s nothing better to warm you – heart and body- than the chorus of three little voices calling out “Gigi and Pop-Pop are here!”.
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Let the Ride Begin


June 5, 2013.  We set out on our 4th Civil War Harley tour early this morning under bright blue skies and the promise of another adventure. As I settled in my seat and zipped up mu jacket against an unexpectedly brisk breeze, I realized that for the first time in 4 years, I had no idea where we were going or when we would get there. The agenda for each of the first three years was carefully planned and executed, from the start time each morning, to the stops along the way, to the time we expected to be at the hotel each night. We talked about where we wanted to go and what we wanted to see, and then Jason mapped the route, careful to include regular stops at Harley dealers along the way. 
In addition to not knowing where we’re landing each day (today we stopped in Hillsville, VA), there are two other key differences this year – the “ride” is only 5 days and other than an overnight to see Courtney, Joey and the munchkins, there are no stops. No battlefields. No museums. No riverfront bars or plantations. Not one Civil War stop on this Civil War Harley Tour.

It’s a compromise.  Last year, I got two significant stops – Charleston and Savannah. Not that Jason didn’t enjoy visiting those bastions of the South, but as I’ve noted before – for him , the experience is the ride, and for me, the ride is the experience (see June 13, 2012 entry for an explanation). He loves navigating the roads – the twists, the turns, the switchbacks and sweepers. For me, it’s the scenery, both what I can see on the back of the bike and what I can visit when it’s parked.  So, this year, since we wanted to spend some time in Virginia, meandering around Williamsburg and golfing, the “Ride” is just that, a ride.

Once we’re off, it’s easy to remember why we love this – whether we stop or sail – it is the ride, the rush, the feel of the sun on your face and the landscape careening past you like a live-action movie. It’s sunny skies and seventy-degree temperatures, the old barns, the hillsides, the friendly waves from front porch rockers. It’s the unadulterated and unobstructed view of everything that makes this great country what it is, and the tired satisfaction at night, exhausted from an experience like no other.
Click here for more pictures from today's ride.
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Civil War Harley - Year Four


While the “official” part of this year’s Civil War Harley ride hasn’t begun – and won’t until Wednesday morning – we are, happily, on vacation.

The journey here was an overnight trip from Massachusetts, a nearly 10 hour Cannonball Run through seven states, driving in shifts, downing a Five Hour Energy or two and stopping only long enough to get gas (and walk the dogs).  While the night flight isn’t optimal from a sleeping perspective, we do avoid most of the traffic and can get all we need once we get here.

And once that key turns in the lock, it’s easy to shift into relaxation mode. After all, Virginia is our home away from home – literally.  We’ve seen our son, BJ and his wife, a very pregnant Jessica (who is due at the end of July). I’ve traversed the length of Duke of Gloucester Street, a few times. We’ve played golf – my first full round in 2 years – and have been to one of our favorite Williamsburg restaurants, the DoG Street Pub in Merchant’s Square.

It’s raining right now, pouring actually, but it's only a temporary diversion from an otherwise beautiful forecast. As soon as the sun comes out, we’ll be shining up the bike and readying ourselves for what I can’t believe is our fourth annual ride. It’s the first year that we’ll be on the bike for less than the full two weeks and without a single Civil War site on the schedule, but when you’ve got kids and grandkids scattered abut the east coast, you need to find some time to visit them too. But this is Virginia, where more blood was shed and Civil War battles fought than in any other state in the Union. We’ll take a day trip or two when we get back from the western part of the state, perhaps to Petersburg, where Jason’s great-great grandfather, Alvin Dinsmore Brock distinguished himself for bravery during the April 1, 1865 attack on Fort Mahone.

It can’t be a Civil War Harley tour without at least one trip to a battlefield.

Stay tuned. 
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