I'm not sure now how long 'shelter in place' has been in effect with the coronoavirus, but it must be 4 weeks at least. I've been going into the office only twice a week, working from home the other days, and any extra days have been spent painting bathrooms, housework, gardening and watching tv shows. Binge-watching a few since I temporarily have internet in the house while the pandemic lasts. I'd managed to get in a few hikes but thanks to so many people from cities and even other states flooding the parks, upsetting locals who feared their contagion, and also dumping their trash in these beautiful areas, the Skyline Drive is now closed, and the trailheads outside the park that touch on the borders are also closed. A few that have remained open are now swarming with people who refuse to stay in their own area, so my local hikes are now few. I do know of a few remote spots and one morning I got up early to hopefully enjoy a hike without bumping into groups of other people.
The trail was deserted and cold. The sun was heaving itself over the mountain top, casting warm rays through the branches and creating golden spider web effects, but in areas of shade it was decidedly chilly and I was glad of my jacket, even wishing I'd worn a scarf. The spice bushes were in full bloom, the edges of the flowers appearing as though they'd been dipped in glitter. White bloodroot and anemones peeked out from dusty brown leaves, so the whole trail was silver and gold. The birds were vocal this morning too, seeming to be singing their songs loudly so they'd warm up. I walked about 4 miles without seeing a single person and was soon back in my car again, glad I'd got up early to enjoy this mountain top.
Since hiking trails was getting difficult with so many people heading for the hills, I tried a local road that might also offer an opportunity for biking. The road itself wasn't paved, with multitudes of potholes and every couple of minutes I was enveloped in a dust storm as cars raced back and forth. It wasn't as unused as I'd hoped but I persisted along the course as I was hunting for a hidden quarry which had appeared a beautiful deep teal color in a few photos I'd seen.
A well preserved small cemetery was at the top of the hill, which I later discovered to be the Marshall family cemetery. An attractive rugged stone wall surrounded the gravestones with a small black metal gate as the only entrance. I wandered among the headstones, noting that two were in place with a birth date but no date of death. There are literally people dying to get in here. I carried on across fields and then battled my way through dense woodlands where the brambles were already making their presence very apparent. But my persistence paid off when I finally caught a glimpse of aquamarine through the bare branches.
I stood admiring the water for a while as I picked out twigs and thorns from my hair and clothes, then began battling back through the undergrowth, determined to find a way down to the banks of this pool. I eventually burst out of the trees onto a flat rock ledge. The sun was beating down, warm and welcoming. I would have loved to just sit on the rocks and enjoy the complete tranquility down here for a while but I wasn't sure if I was trespassing or not and didn't want any trouble. A pair of Canadian gooses were floating on the water, making we ponder if they were annoyed at me busting into their peaceful world, and so I snapped a few photos carefully so as not to scare them into flying off, and then I quietly backed away. I tried to find information on the quarry later but found nothing, only that there are two minerals that turn quarry water this beautiful color, malachite and azurite, and then wondered if I should go back at some point to find samples...
Walking back to the car I came across an old ruin that looked very much like a castle. This old building had been very well built and it saddened me that it was tumbling down here with few people aware of its existence.
This area would make a beautiful park area. I did find
an article on the house after some research; maybe one day that park won't be a dream.
Over the past weekend I had spent an hour or two driving and exploring country roads, just wanting to get out of the house and get some fresh air. By chance I drove by an old scrapyard. I had discovered this a few years ago but failed to note its location, and had then been unable to find my way back. But today I recognized it immediately and was delighted to spot its owner chatting to another guy outside a workshop. His buddy left as I approached and I smiled then asked very politely if I could please take some photos of the cars. I'm not sure if I pissed him off because his friend left as I appeared or if he simply didn't like English people. He began making some supercilious remarks about my accent, and it soon became apparent he was trying to wind me up. I didn't bite the hook, I wanted to explore those old cars, so I laughed along with him, my hands writhing behind my back as I imagined wringing his scrawny neck. But then the conversation turned to working on older cars and riding motorbikes. When he discovered that I had been capable of replacing brakes, spark plugs, points, timing belts, alternators, starter motors and other components which had been simple on cars from the 70's and 80's, along with riding fast on motorbikes and performing basic maintenance on them too, he slowly changed from a testy old geyser to a friendly and sweet elderly gentleman, who after another discussion on snakes, finally relented and said I was welcome to go take some photos. As long as I trod careful since the place was crawling with copperheads and rattlers. Righty Ho! I pulled my socks up as far as they would go and trudged onward.
I had a thoroughly enjoyable hour or so strolling around and inspecting the cars inside and out. I didn't want to outstay my welcome, and hadn't wanted to inquire whether I'd be OK to explore for two or three hours in case I upset him and he ordered me to bugger off. So I kept an eye on the time and kicked through the leaves and rotten wood, having completely forgotten his warning about slithering critters. Even though many of the cars were in bad shape there were still plenty of opportunities to get photos, with hood ornaments still intact, along with much chrome work and light lenses. I particularly loved the sunlight shining through a vintage 7-Up bottle which was caught in a web of wire and throwing a green shadow below it. I even found a vintage plate. Rusty embossed letters on a thin metal sheet caught my eye among the dead leaves, and pulling it out the letters read 'FRONT ROYAL, VIRGINIA' along the top, 'WHERE THE SKYLINE DRIVE BEGINS' along the bottom and a date of 69. I gave it to the old chap as I was leaving, thinking he'd clean it up and display it in his workshop, but he just took it, inspecting the letters briefly, and placed it on top of an old oil can in the shop. I hoped he wouldn't toss it away or back among the leaves. But he was in a good mood as I thanked him and drove away, hopefully good enough that he'll remember me favorably and let me return another day.
No comments:
Post a Comment