48stateroadtrip.com

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Otter Creek Campground, night. The orange spots are from the lantern off to the side of the camera.

Camping Sounds from Virginia

Click above to hear what Va sounds like out in the sticks at night. To complete the scene, figure there’s at least one of those insects that looks like a twig crawling on the picnic table and a daddy long-legs frying itself on the inside of your propane lantern (which is the white noise in the audio clip — sorry). And if you’re me, you can’t smell anything because you’re still a little congested.

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Ways in which Blue Ridge Parkway is different from Shenandoah National Park:

• It’s not a national park. It’s a road with protected lands on either side of it that is administrated by the National Park Service.
• It’s hills are 40% steeper than Shenandoah’s.
• It has lakes and rivers alongside the roadway.
• It’s further south.
• There are remnants of a lost civilization along the route.
• The locals have a much stronger accent.
• Way-cooler place names (“Peaks of Otter”? You can’t beat that.)
• It’s 4.5x as long.
• Better campsites.
• Lower visitor density.

Camped at the Beaver Creek Campground (so nicely creek-situated and wooded I’d have thought it was administered by the Forest Service) and went to the camp restaurant for food in the morning. Walked inside and the place is almost full with what appear to be locals. The six at the bar are engaged in a vigorous discussion over “red-eye gravy” and their drawls do not seem ironic. And with that, I realize that I’m in The South. Never been to The South before.

Blue Ridge Parkway, IMHO, > Shenandoah National Park by a good ways. The hills are more pronounced and interesting, the running water is a plus and gives you something to take a picture of if you have to, the abandoned hillbilly structures are kind of cool, and, like I said, there are fewer people. I only drove the Virginia part of it, though. I’m saving the state of North Carolina for another day (Day 88 actually).

Don’t remember the name of it and it’s not on the map, so there.

Sharp Top, one of the two Peaks of Otter. It’s near Bearwallow Gap. Man. And there was, in fact, an otter in the lake (which is not called Lake of Otter, sadly). (It would make the otter insufferable thinking it had been named for him.)

I think it’s called Abbott Lake.

Dismayed by yet another photo of a road with trees on it, the crows flee.

The valley below — this goes on for 460 miles or whatever.

What with the fence and all, it could pass for a Civil War battlefield.

Ah, fair Appalachia, long may your hills yet roll!

Mabry Mill, a “functioning” water mill (it functions in that water turns the wheel).

If a flume leaks in the woods and no one’s around, does it actually get anything wet?

Another day down. Blue Ridge Parkway has most of the same problems as Shenandoah — or at least, the one big problem: there’s nothing to do there but look at stuff. The Appalachian Trail runs through both of them, but apparently the AT is just a walk in the woods for not apparent reason — at least until it turns serious up in New Hampshire, I guess.

Based on perceived scenery, the PCT hasta be about 100x the trail the AT is.

Ah, well. I also remind myself frequently that the alternative is sitting in a gray-walled cube, at which point time spent in 2,000-foot mountain ranges without anything to do but drive and look start looking better. OTOH, what about the *opportunity cost*?! I should’ve spent another couple days in New England. Now I’m stuck taking that bitter failure to the grave. Eh — have to take something, I guess.

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A month and a half ago or so, it was requested that I share with all y’all how my rig’s outfitted for travel. Right after that, I shot this video. And now? Now I’ve bothered to post it. It’s from a while back and it’s kind of long (8.5 min.).

Ah, sweet memories of South Dakota. And by “Yellowstone”, I meant “Yosemite”. And the truck has never been that clean or organized in actual practice.

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(LMK if the video doesn’t work.)

Shenandoah is a National Park made for old people who don’t get out of their cars. There’s nothing to do there besides pull over and look out over the side and see the valley with farms and towns in it. Valleys, sorry. One on each side. They don’t change much.

Every quarter-mile there’s an overlook. And every overlook has this exact view (in essence).

But at least the old people are genteel. At least the local ones are. And with the photography, I just went with the old standby: leaves. I’m guessing Shenandoah is pretty brilliant by the end of October. Wasn’t as colorful as New England had been a week or two earlier, though. I suppose these things take time.

Another couple weeks and Skyline Drive will be on fire (figuratively).

I also sort of went on two hikes. The first was to White Oak Canyon, which my Reader’s Digest book suggests is the park’s scenic highpoint. To me, the highpoint of it was getting 2.3 miles in, seeing the first little waterfall, and having the locals there tell me it wasn’t worth it to keep going, because the rest of the waterfall was going to be even less spectacular. I guess it hasn’t rained much in Va.

But, whatever, there must be hike photos, so:

Trailside leaves.

Just after it occurred to me that this would be a pleasant enough place for turkey hunting with Sgt. York, I stumble onto these guys. Gary Cooper, however, did not make an appearance.

This is more stunning than the waterfall was.

Eh. It’s a bridge.

The couple at the waterfall also insisted that I should hike up to Hawk’s Bill Peak, the highest point in the park, so I did. It was a short hike. Here’s evidence it happened:

The compass tells you where the forest is on fire.

And then I headed south and out of the park, never to return again.

Somehow the yellow seemed significant at the time.

Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean this isn’t a photo of a bobcat.

It really *was* a bobcat.

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No, they didn’t die on Day 81 of my trip. This trip is not that powerful or deadly. OTOH, the intensity of death per day at Antietam relative to size of the USA+CSA was 15,000 times the intensity of Iraq (I wrote about this once). Of course, Iraq is no Korea. Oh well. It’s a pretty battlefield. Antietam, I mean. Had to drive back into Maryland to get there, but it was worth it, I think. Nice skies, grain, fences, and a whole lot of dead people.

Civil War. It was a battle in the Civil War (the Battle of Antietam, sometimes referred to as Battle of Sharpsburg) and a fairly important one I understand. Somehow this sort-of win made Lincoln feel good about issuing the Emancipation Proclamation, freeing all the slaves except for those living in states that Lincoln was actually president of at the time. Well, basically.

This is the New York monument at the battlefield. I like the idea that the three people on the right are monks going to their, I dunno, holy obelisk. Makes it seem more like an Anton Corbijn-directed Depeche Mode video. If only it were in black-and-white.

Watching the approaching Yankees from the Rebel position.

I think this was the Connecticut monument. The guy on it looks like he’s 12. It’s situated alongside Bloody Lane, a sunken road that was sort of advantageous for the Southerners to be in until it wasn’t.

Bloody Lane.

Paved road, not bloody.

Clouds, plus one of those fences they always set up around Civil War battlefields.

So I thought it was kind of a pretty battlefield. Nice clouds, for example. It makes you kind of sad to stand there and think about it. I mean, that’s a lot of dead guys. And then I remember that my relatives left the country 15 years before the Civil War to see if they could get a better deal in Mexico. So that makes it only as sad as a horrible, bloody civil war happening in someone else’s country. Someone else’s country that had recently annexed you. It’s slightly mitigating is what I’m getting at.

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I used to love doing headlines. That seems like a long time ago. Now? I’m all about second paragraphs.

[Paragraph Redacted]

I dunno. Something about the Civil War, big armory, company town, Confederates making sure it was destroyed all the time, John Brown, railroads, a trans-continental canal, lots of floods, then someone deciding to move the town somewhere so that it wouldn’t keep getting destroyed all the time. Oh well.

Main Street.

Raised railroad tracks. No, really! They run between Main Street and the river. I think Shenandoah (River). Eventually they cross the Potomac (eventually = a few hundred yards later).

The scaffolding around the church tower adds a uniquely European touch to the scene.

Bridges have interesting lines.

Episcopal church.

Episcopal cloud.

It was a nice half-day place. Had lunch at one of the taverns or whatever in the non Parks Service part of town: pulled pork sandwich. Was pretty good, but hilariously overpriced. I also ordered (tap) water.

Also of note: the drive from my campsite in Western Maryland (nice showers!) to Harpers Ferry marks the last time I’ll use my GPS. Garmin’s not very good at giving directions. She dropped me off in the middle of a country road in Maryland and told me it was the Harpers Ferry Visitors Center in West Virginia. Essentially. Probably not as dangerous as the time she dragged me up into the maze of unmarked logging roads in pursuit of Mt. St. Helens, but still. Also probably not as bad as when she told me the speed limit was 70 when it was, in fact, 25. Or the multiple times she’s told me to enter the freeway via the offramp. Plus she’s so smug about it. But anyway. Hopefully REI will still take it back. I still have the box, I think. Moral: don’t buy Garmin.

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And, as such, five-eighths of the way there (in terms of states visited).

I’d call that wire coil wild and wonderful!

Right. This is actually a make-up photo because there was no welcome sign on the highway that landed me in Harper’s Ferry. It’s a convoluted little triangle there — maybe the absent sign was WVa’s protest.

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Another prime number — I can sleep easy once again.

I think “Virginia” is the bird’s name.

I was a little surprised to be in Virginia. I thought I’d be in West Virginia. But no: just normal Virginia for about five miles. It was pleasant while it lasted. I’d be back soon.

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I liked Ft. McHenry better than Freedom Hall in no small part because it wasn’t entirely swarmed with people. I’m guessing having to figure out how to drive through the huddled masses of Baltimore thins out the crowd a little. Certainly the lack of useful signage doesn’t help a lot either.

Nice fort, though.

15 stars, 15 stripes.

It was at half-mast because it was national dead firefighters day or something. I think the flag’s at half-mast more often than full-mast these days.

All cannons should be this black.

Outside the fort — on the land side.

I guess early 19th century forts are more exciting to run around than look at pictures of. (Yes, I ended a sentence with a preposition. It was easier that way.) Still, it’s a cool fort. It’d have been even cooler if they’d preserved the truce ship out in the harbor that Francis Scott Key was sitting on when he wrote the poem. And the flag they have there only had 15 stars on it even though there were like 18 states. Looks good with 15, though — maybe we should go back.

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Seriously, how vain do you have to be to spend tax payer money in order to put your name on every welcome sign in the state? That’s just crass. Hope you lose next primary.

At least they *have* a sign — but at what cost?!

As an out-of-stater, let me attest to the fact that I did not feel any more welcomed into Maryland by the fact that the stupid governor put his name on the sign. Such arrogance.

Man. “Public servant” — hah! The public’s money serves him.

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