A scene in Shenandoah National Park that needs no words…

One of the many trails in Shenandoah National Park

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That little idiot light came on in my car yesterday. “Maint Req’d.” I know what it means; the first time it happened I called the dealership because the nowhere in the manual could I find an explanation of the meaning of the light. Turns out that it simply means it’s time to change the oil. I was traveling long distance at the time (on my way back to Florida) and the woman I spoke to said I could wait until I got home to bring it in for an oil change, since I was only 300 miles or so away. This time I’m in Virginia and I think waiting would be pressing my luck. Besides, that little orange light was driving me crazy. I swear it was screaming at me.

Since it was lunchtime, I decided to look for a town with a Toyota dealership or a quick lube place and get the oil changed while I ate. Luck was with me. I pulled off I-81 into Staunton, Virginia since I have long wanted to see this town anyway, and quickly found a Toyota dealership that could fit me in. After lunch I took a quick driving tour of the town and was extremely impressed by what I saw.

Staunton is tucked into a pocket valley at the head of the Shenandoah Valley. The city is built on rolling hills and its picturesque downtown features scores of historic red-brick buildings that house art galleries, shops, and restaurants. Staunton is home to the Blackfriars Playhouse, the only re-creation in the world of Shakespeare’s legendary indoor theatre; the Frontier Culture Museum, a living history museum illustrating the daily lives of Shenandoah Valley’s early settlers; and the Woodrow Wilson Museum and Research Library, which is the only presidential library in Virginia.

Although the town exhibited a mighty pull on me, I had to get back on the road. I have obligations in Atlanta and I must be there tonight. I have camped in Shenandoah National Park and know how beautiful it is; now I know there is a great town to explore the next time I am in the area. Besides, the weather is just getting too cold for my bones. It’s time to get back to Florida for the winter. Shenandoah and Staunton can wait until summer.

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Yesterday I was 1 for 2. Originally I had planned to return to I-95 North and and take the I-495 loop around Washington, D.C., but my friends in Fredericksburg, who travel this route every day, told me that traffic begins backing up 30 miles outside of D.C., which is only 50 miles away. Since my ultimate goal was to head north into Pennsylvania and New York, I instead chose to travel the smaller westbound country roads that would take me to I-81. I left at 6:15 a.m. in the pre-dawn darkness. By the time the sun came up I was passing through rolling Virginia farm country with well-kept barns and immense green pastures shimmering with dewdrops. I crossed over the Shenandoah Mountains, enjoying the occasional brilliant red or pumpkin orange tree that popped out at me as I rounded the curves in the road through the National Forest.

Adorable little town of Luray, Virginia

On the downhill side, signs began to appear for Luray Caverns. Having been a rock hound all my life, I have long been fascinated with caves. Some years ago I camped in Shenandoah National Park and drove a portion of the Blue Ridge Parkway. I had spotted Luray caverns during that trip but was unable to visit due to time constraints. Thankfully, I have no time constraints on this trip. As it was too early for the caves to be open, I diverted into Luray Village in search of a wake-up cup of coffee. Not only was this an adorable little mountain town, I also discovered a gem of a bakery where I stuffed my face with fresh-baked raisin scones and the most delicious whole-grain blueberry muffin I have ever tasted. I lounged for a couple of hours, listening to the locals gossip and lament about the election and caught up on my blogging while waiting.

The Great Stalacpipe Organ, deep in the bowels of Luray Caverns

Through the years, I have visited a number of spectacular caverns, each of which has a particular charm. Mammoth Cave in Kentucky has its snowball room, a giant domed room with rock formations on the ceiling that look like snowballs. The caves at Halong Bay in Vietnam are interesting for their sheer immensity and the caves at Ajanta, India, are known the world over for their Buddhist sculptures. Luray’s claim to fame is its “Great Stalacpipe Organ.” Deep in the bowels of the cave, the keys of a pipe organ have been wired to various stalactites that hang from the ceiling. When the organ keys are pressed, a small metal hammer gently touches the stalactites, each of which resonates in a different tone. As I listened to the music reverberating around the cavern, I moved to avoid the cold water dripping on me from stalactites that are still being formed, but when our guide explained that each of these “cave kisses” means one year of good luck, I moved back under the dripping stalactite. I can use all the good luck I can get.

Other parts of the cave were equally impressive. The formations here are unlike any I have ever seen:

Saracen's Tent from below

Saracen's Tent up close

The Fish Market

Dream Lake

Luray was definitely a Grand Slam!

Hershey's Chocolate World

From Luray I drove west just a bit further and picked up I-81, which carried me north into Pennsylvania. In the late afternoon I needed gas and was getting hungry. The map showed that I was just a few miles from Hershey, Pennsylvania, home of the famous Hershey candy factory. Wow! I’ve always wanted to tour a chocolate factory, I thought. To my disappointment, I discovered that the factory stopped doing tours 37 years ago. Instead, I was directed to Hershey Chocolate World, a large theme park on the outskirts of town. The amusement park, with its intimidating roller coasters, was definitely not for me. I opted for the The Great American Chocolate Tour, a theme park-like ride through an exhibition that featured animated cows and a simulated Hershey’s chocolate factory. I assume the intent was to create a Disney-esque ride ala “It’s a Small World,” but it just came off as shameless self-promotion, not the least of which was the chocolate aroma-suffused room through which I rode right before the ride dumped me out at a store that sells every candy bar made by Hershey’s. The whole experience was definitely a strike out. Well, except for the chocolate store. And I don’t think I have to tell you whether or not I bought any chocolate.

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My wanderings didn’t take me far from Richmond. Monday morning, just 50 miles north of Richmond, I pulled off I-95 into Fredericksburg to fill up the gas tank. I was standing at the pump in this cute little town when I suddenly remembered that friends of mine live in Fredericksburg. Even better, it was the Columbus Day holiday and they were likely to be home. ‘Maybe we can get together for lunch,’ I thought as I dialed their number.

It’s now Wednesday and I am just leaving Fredericksburg, having spent two wonderful days with my long-time friends, Steve and Annette Hussmann and their son Matthew. It is always a privilege to learn about a city/area from people who live there, and this was no exception. Matt insisted upon being my tour guide for the day.

Downtown Fredericksburg, Virginia

Downtown Fredericksburg, Virginia

Shops in Fredricksburg's cute downtown

We began on the roof of the town’s downtown’s parking lot, where I looked out over the three church spires that served as lookout towers for Confederate forces during the war. At street level we strolled past scores of retail stores that occupy the historic buildings along Caroline and Princess Anne Streets, including more than 100 antique stores that draw people from miles around.

Presbyterian Church in Fredericksburg, Virginia

Mixed in amongst the retail stores were museums, the old Town Square with its original Market House where people came to buy and sell their wares, and a half dozen historic houses of worship, including the Presbyterian Church, which proudly displays two cannon balls that were embedded into its front pillar during the Civil War battle of Marye’s Heights. To see the rest of the town we had a choice of transport:

Clydesdale-drawn carriage

Paddlewheel steamboat that sails along the Rappahanock River

Historic house in Fredricksburg, Virgnia was home of George Washington's mother

We decided upon the trolley and chose seats near the back, where the plastic rain flaps had been rolled up to enjoy the mid-October sun and delightful temps in the mid-80′s. An hour later I was well versed on the history of the town and had seen sites like the Old Stone Warehouse, the Hugh Mercer Apothecary, George Washington’s mother’s house, and a variety of lovingly preserved houses, the newest of which was built in 1917.

Civil War battlefield

Civil War battlefield

After the trolley dropped us back at the Visitor’s Center, we made our way back to the Fredericksbug and Spotsylvania National Military Park. On this site, one of the area’s largest Civil War conflicts occurred, the battle of Marye’s Heights. Today this same site, known as the Fredericksburg Battlefield, is the graveyard for thousands of fallen soldiers, 80% of which were never identified and buried as unknown soldiers.

As we climbed the paths leading up the terraced hillside, I felt the presence of spirits. When I mentioned this to Matt he did not seem the least bit surprised. “Fredericksburg is full of ghosts. In fact, we have one in our house who turns off lights and turns up the air conditioning in the summer.” Indeed, earlier in the day I had seen a storefront advertising “Ghost Tours of Fredericksburg.

Our final stop of the day was the Mott Reservoir, where a setting sun had turned the wooden boats lining the shore to gold, and reflected the brilliant fall foliage into the mirror created by the placid lake.

Mott Reservoir

Mott Reservoir

Fredericksburg was definitely not on my list of stops during this trip, but that is the beauty of traveling without plans. I have the freedom to go where I want, when I want, and stay as long as I like. I am so glad I did not miss out on Fredericksburg, or on a wonderful visit with old friends!

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By the time my writers conference ended in Richmond, Virginia, I had been sitting for two days and I desperately needed to move. Serendipitously, I discovered that the conference fell on the same weekend as Richmond’s Annual Folk Music Festival, and so I decided to extend my stay by a day to enjoy this historic city and attend the festival on the shores of the James River.

I set out early yesterday morning, determined to see as much of Richmond as possible on foot. From the center of downtown, I followed Broad Street toward Virginia Commonwealth University. Many of the lovely old buildings in this part of downtown are in disrepair and a large percentage of the storefronts are empty, but signs of rebirth abound. Coffee shops, crafters, retailers, and art galleries are moving into this Soho-like neighborhood as the old buildings are painstakingly restored. This former dairy and police station are just two examples of the inner city revitalization:

When I reached the VCU campus I diverted through Monroe Park, which is surrounded on all sides by historic structures, like the Old Landmark Theater, the tower of which is shown here framed by fall foliage:

On the other side of the park I picked up Franklin Street. Here I discovered stately old stone and brick homes tucked between the scattered university buildings and a series of monuments honoring the gentlemen of the old South, including J.E.B. Stuart and Robert E. Lee, gracing the wide median of this broad, tree-lined avenue.

A mile or so further I cut over to Park Avenue and headed back toward the city center. The historic houses here seemed determined to distinguish themselves from their cousins on Franklin by virtue of their exteriors, which were painted in rich hues that perfectly accented the golden leaves littering the sidewalks.

On the opposite side of downtown, more history awaited. St. Paul’s Church stood at the entrance to Capitol Square, which is home to the Governor’s Mansion and the State Capitol building:

Since it was approaching 2 p.m., I decided to make my way to the riverfront and catch the late afternoon acts at the Folk Music Festival. I threaded my way through the upscale neighborhood known as Shockoe Slip, with its village shops and cobblestone streets, and started downhill.

At the bottom of the hill I followed the 1.5 mile long promenade running along the towpath of the old James River and Kanawha Canal, stopping to view the turning basin, the old hydro plant, and the flume that in years past drove the six water wheels that powered 31 pairs of grinding stones at the old Gallego Flour Mill.

As I descended from the path onto Brown’s Island, the first of five performance stages came into view, this one sheltered under a giant white tent.

Rather than elbow my way through the huge crowd that had gathered to hear the Dale Watson band, I plunked down on the grass outside the tent. When the last strains of their Honky Tonk music had faded, the crowd began to drift away, only to be replaced by a new audience anxious to hear the next performers, a popular Washington, D.C. band known simply as EU. I grabbed a seat inside the tent but I wasn’t sitting for long; like everyone else under the tent, I was on my feet from the moment EU started belting out their syncopated go-go music. As the crowd swayed and bounced, I threaded my way around the dance floor, alternating between dancing and snapping photos of the joyful faces and seething bodies around me:

Following the heavy beat of EU’s music, I wandered to the next tent to watch Hopi Indian dancers perform to the accompaniment of native hand-carved flutes, and then climbed the bluff along the riverfront to yet another stage to hear two Hawaiian musicians play Slack Key guitars.

Still, the festival had more to offer; at the fifth stage I joined the throbbing crowd as Plena Libre belted out their Puerto Rican orchestral salsa music. I swear I was still bouncing when I got back to the hotel a half hour later.

Richmond is only about a four and a half hour drive from the Outer Banks, yet I never took the time to visit this fascinating city during the 11 years I lived in Kill Devil Hills. I’m just glad I finally discovered all it has to offer and am looking forward to attending both the James River Writers Conference and the Folk Music Festival again next year.

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