First Landing, French Trench

Hellloooooooo in there...

Last weekend, we spent some time in the Tidewater Basin area meandering toward, through, and promptly out of Virginia Beach.

When this year's Darwin Awards are handed out, I will be glad not to be among the recipients! (Thus far...) You know how they say that honesty is the best policy? So is foolhardy curiosity...as well as unwarranted cowardice. (Turn away, Redcoats, turn.)

Okay. So that's three "best policies." Of course, like the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, there may be a way that they are mysteriously All One. Of course, in the olden days, the brotherhood of man wasn't as widely recognized, and various groups fought with each other. But you don't have to take my word for it. Even the French, once upon a time, did more than surrender and try to prevent criminal military campaigns through diplomatic means.

Believe it or not, we can venture back even further into history. What was this continent like before Europeans landed on not-yet-Virginian shores? Was there hardscrabble vegetation there to welcome them?

Ah, yes! The first landing point (now eerily close to a military installation, albeit one with friendly guards willing to redirect GPS-emboldened-yet-mistaken tourists--*ahem*--) is pretty much what you see here. But colder. And rainier.

Clearly, there is a quiet beauty in the decaying piles and the wooden boardwalk. If you squint just right, you can almost make out No Line On the Horizon...

Thanks for waiting patiently for last weekend's travel summaries. There is even more to come, including a restaurant review!

Colonial Williamsburg

Colonial Williamsburg. 'Nuff said.

Behind these tidy-looking cottages is even more quaint colonial coziness and beauty. Who wouldn't want to work as a re-enactment actor if they could surround themselves with wee gnomish structures such as this?

Of course, there are plusses and minuses to every scheme, however well-concocted. Would you give up phone, lights, and motorcars to have a local tailor iconographically associated with an unsheared ram suspended above the ground by his midsection?

Decisions, decisions. While we play ruminating Hamlets, here's an easy call: another glimpse of old-school fence for K-dog. That's the Yorktown Battlefield, for what it's worth.

If you look closely, you can see that, in addition to the obvious wood structures, tactical terraforming has transformed the otherwise plain-like ground into centuries-old earthen berms of projectile-absorbing Old Dominion soil. Didn't Bilbo live beneath one of these things? (Let me know if you can see the circular, green door.)

Sunday: A Rainy Montage

We're working backwards blogging our weekend, beginning with Sunday morning along the James River in the Tidewater region.


Leaving Williamsburg after a lovely stay and a particularly good lunch at Food for Thought (review to come), we saw our first blooming tulips of the season. Despite the umpteenth day of bone-chilling rain, the tulips were a reminder of warm days to come. It was so nice to see beyond our own shivering and enjoy some bright blooms.

We drove west on the way home along Route 5, which is an off-shoot of the Colonial Parkway, and follows the James River where the nation's earliest farms began. The Shirley Plantation, pictured below, was chartered in 1613 by the Crown to experiment with tobacco production, and has been continuously operated by eleven generations of Shirley family. The legacy of slavery is haunting in the area, and the depth of the historical record is almost overwhelming. 1613? Incredible.

Shirley was the tail-end of our time along the river. As we hit Richmond, we were smooth sailing along the highways (well, I was snoozing; Ben was sailing), both in a rush to get back to Charlottesville, drop off a car on the other side of town, and get right back on Rt 64 west. Luckily for us, Jenna called the night before, saying she'd be driving through Rt. 81 on her way back to Atlanta after a week in Western Mass, and could we meet her in the middle of nowhere? Let's think for a second... YES! And it didn't even have to be at a Shoney's. ;-)

Here's Ben, looking around historic downtown Staunton, waiting impatiently to see our very bestest pal.

Of course, in our happiness to see our favorite seminarian, I completely forgot to take any photos (except two of her hip new ride). But you can imagine the breath of fresh air she brought to the Blue Ridges. We had a surprisingly good meal at a happy Mexican-ish restaurant, the Baja Bean Co., in the middle of the foggy mountains, with lots of catching up and plenty of relief to be around our familiar, favorite little life.

She had to be on the road again too soon, and we had a hairy ride back over Afton Mountain, which was engulfed in icy fog. But it was worth it twenty times over.

Next up, backwards in time -- both chronologically (to Saturday) and historically (to Colonial Williamsburg and Virginia Beach).