An Exploratory Car Ride and Vineyards with Friends

After spending a relaxing evening with Rob, I got up on Saturday after he had gone to work and headed back to NoVA where I was meeting some British friends for lunch and winery visits. I was taking a slow drive back so I could explore some places I'd spotted on previous journeys but not had time to check out. My first stop was Orange where I took a photo of the old buildings lining the railway track. It felt like stepping back in time and the place was almost deserted with none of the rushing crowds always seen up my way.

The next stop was further down the road where I'd seen a run down building with old farm machinery, gas tanks, oil cans, mowers and other junk piled up outside and left to rot. I peered through the windows just to see more piles of stuff with barely any floor visible. 

 

I walked around the side of the building and came across this abandoned old truck covered in vines. I left after a couple of photos, this place felt sad.

I then stopped at a store called Charlotte's which had a great 60's feel to it. As I approached with my camera a gentleman walked over to me who turned out to be the owner, Bill Corbin. The store was named after his wife who sadly passed away three years ago. We stood in the searing sunshine chatting and I was amazed to hear his stories of his two tours in Vietnam and how he'd recently met many of his old comrades. He was a wonderful friendly man whose zest for life was still strong and who loved to laugh, even though he'd gone through some terrible times and suffered extreme loss. I forgot about the heat as I listened and wished fervently that I could spend more time there chatting. As I left I was sure I'd pop into see him again as I passed by his store.

I carried on driving and pulled in at an old country store at Brandy Station. The shelves were stacked with old fashioned foods and as I described some of the cakes to Rob on the phone I got, 'Oooh, I love those, get me one of them.' and 'Oh those are great, I'll have one.' As I walked to the counter with the cakes, I hoped the server wouldn't think I was going to woof them all down myself, although I was sorely tempted.

Just down the road was an abandoned church so I stopped to have a look round but couldn't see any access available. It was called Fleetwood, probably named after the nearby hill which featured prominently in the Civil War battles. I was intrigued as to why a sled hung on the wall, but it made an awesome photo.
After the church, I decided to head straight home. I fed and hugged Kota, quickly changed and rushed back out of the door to drive to Winchester.

W

We met at the Union Jack pub where I ordered a pint of Old Speckled Hen. My father had loved this beer and during a trip to America had dumbfounded my room mate when he told her not to put the beer in the fridge as he didn't want it chilled. We sat chatting for a while and then decided to visit our first winery, Veramar.

We all decided to do the tasting and lined up at the bar. We noticed Marti was only taking one sip from each of her glasses and then throwing the rest away. 'What's wrong, don't you like it?' asked Nancy. 'Oh no,' replied Marti, ' but I'm driving.' Nancy and I exchanged astonished looks. The glasses held barely a gulp, no more than a couple of sips. Whatever.
None of us were excited by any of the wines so we decided to move on to our next vineyard, Bluemont.

This was a more polished and commercialized winery and it's drawing point was apparent immediately, the views were spectacular. Apparently, on a clear day, the Washington Monument is visible. There was also a pretty gift shop but once again, the wines were lacking. We reckoned our old faithful haunt, The Hunter's Head, should be the next stop, so we jumped back into our cars and cut through the countryside on dusty gravelly lanes.

 

 Once there we sat in the garden and waited for a table to become available. After a few minutes, John and Angie turned up both sporting Eau de Toxic Gasoline Fumes.

 They had gone to fill up the car but the pump had failed to turn off and doused both of them in gas. We had a great laugh as we heard their story and tried to keep straight faces as the waitresses and other customers wrinkled their noses while we pretended that nothing was amiss. After a while, we barely noticed it and couldn't care less. Us Brits are made of strong stuff and always turn a tale of woe in a story of laughter. We had enjoyed a fabulous time and even Rob had injected some humor into my day from Gordonsville. He knew I loved ducks from my Quackster story and sent me a photo of some friends he found for my famous colleague.

They were so cute and arranged around an M&M's heart I'd left on the table. He then wanted to assure me that they were settling in well and sent another photo of them partying.

Drinking my beer, I notice.