The Pristine Perfection of Pohick Bay

My friend Steve had been wanting to try his hand at kayaking again, and neither of us had used our brand new tents, so we combined the two with a kayaking and camping weekend at Pohick Bay.
I was amazed at how quickly my little tent went up as I've not erected a tent since my 20's. I wasn't totally sure whether I'd followed the instructions accurately but it was standing and actually looked quite inviting. Steve had a one man tent which after studying it critically I was pleased I had gone for the bigger option, although in all reality, there was no way two people, unless they were hobbits, could fit into my fabric abode. But for just me, it was perfect, and I was kind of regretting not bringing some little lanterns to string across the top or a welcome mat to lay at the door. But I neatly spread out my bed and belongings inside and it really looked quite cozy. Beer and steaks were stashed on ice ready for later so we headed down to the bay to start paddling.
There were a few paddle boarders already on the water but I was surprised to see how few kayakers were out. Steve had no problem renting a boat and soon we were leaving the noisy boats and jet skiers to race across the bay while we headed for quieter waters inland.

The pickerelweed was in full bloom, the flowers attracting butterflies, bees, dragonflies and redwing blackbirds. I loved their huge translucent, heart-shaped leaves, with veins running through them like marbling. Apparently the young leaves can be eaten as greens and the seeds too are tasty raw, cooked or ground into flour.

We saw so much wildlife out here. Because there were only a few people and we were paddling quietly, we came across blue herons, egrets, quite a few large fish and even a young otter swan towards us when we were sitting in weeds near a bank taking a snack break.

The water was still, looking like glass and reflecting the huge fluffy clouds above us.

We slowly made our way upstream, the river gradually getting narrower, and the water more shallow.

All the time we were paddling, I noticed how many different varieties of thick weeds grew under us, looking lush and healthy, sanctuary to thousands of tiny baby fishes that darted between the open areas. I even sat and watched a huge shoal of small fish slowly make their way past my boat, more than I've ever seen in one group. I didn't even bother with the camera, I just sat and enjoyed the moment, watching them swim past, not even realizing a human was sitting still and silent above them.
The water was crystal clear, golden sand glinting below with small white shells caught among the grains of sand which had ripple patterns along the bottom like you'd see at the beach.

I was just loving the sky mirrored in the water and couldn't stop taking reflection photos. I've been coming here for many years now and was so pleased to see how healthy this little ecosystem tucked back in the bay was. Crews had obviously been out here since the storms and large fallen trees that had previously stemmed the flow of the river had been cleared, which I'm sure had contributed to the now pristine environment. It was a joy to behold the obviously teeming flora and wildlife that were enjoying their little piece of heaven here. It was looking the healthiest I'd ever seen it, and Steve wondered if the copious amounts of rain we'd had this past spring had been a contribution.

Waterlilies were beginning to come into bloom, tightly closed buds protecting petals from the strong sunlight were peeking up from the water.

The 'entrance' to the quieter part of the bay, where the water becomes still and boats with engines aren't allowed, is covered with a thick green weed. It's extremely hard to paddle through, taking a lot of core and upper arm work to push the boat through, and then disengage the paddle from its sucking snare. I got Steve to take a photo of me, both ends of my paddle draped with long curtains of thick stringy weed, which were actually was quite heavy.

All the photos I took were taken with my trusty G15 and the following images were taken by my iPhone in its waterproof case, where I thrust it under the surface and snapped away, enjoying the interesting images of a different world under the water's surface.

After nearly 5 hours we were tiring so made our way slowly back to shore. The sun was relentless and I was looking forward to sitting in the wooded shade back at our camp. As I dragged Big Red across the grass to load onto Stuart, strong winds whipped around me, lovely and cooling, but looking up I saw huge black clouds, then heard a rumble of thunder. People started making for the shore and I was glad to have the boat secured on the roof as I climbed in the car, sure that a rainstorm was imminent. But it was a false alarm, and by the time we arrived back at the tents, any idea of a storm was forgotten.
We got straight down to preparing dinner which was rib-eye steaks with new potatoes and zucchini. I'd brought oil and seasoning for the veggies, but the steaks, as per Steve, were only dusted with salt and pepper.

Preparing our dinner while munching on snacks and drinking beers. Lovely not to have the worry of drink/driving marring our evening!

The steaks were cooked to perfection. Apparently Steve's method of 7 minutes each side, followed by one more minute on each side worked a treat. The extra long agonizing minutes where we had to sit and watch them while they 'rested' were torture, our mouths watering mercilessly, and we tried very, very hard not to eat too many chips so our hungry enjoyment wouldn't be diminished in any way once we were finally allowed to sink our choppers into those juicy thick slabs of beef. Yum!

Dinner was a resounding success and although we went for a walk around the campgrounds to work it down, it wasn't long before we were back in our chairs, relaxing with another beer cracked open, and a lazy evening was spent, chatting while watching the light slowly fade, colored lights began twinkling from peoples' camp sites and a wonderful cool temperature descended all around. The day had worked out perfectly.

The Beauty of Brawner in the Battlefields

Sunday was hot and humid but not wanting to stay indoors I decided to hike in the Manassas Battlefields. I've covered much of these grounds on previous trips but today I was hiking a new area for me known as Brawner Farm, a lesser traversed trail, and especially being a holiday weekend, I didn't want to be in crowds.

I passed this unusual garden setting and had to turn back for a photo. A chandelier? Only in America, how quirky! I reached the parking lot, and dousing myself thoroughly in bug spray, I set off, a pungent cloud in my wake.

Almost immediately a farmhouse loomed in front, not looking very old, but I did discover later that a lot of restoration work had gone into it. Some great images are here.

Even though the doors were open, inside was deliciously cool, and it was incredibly tempting to stay for as long as possible. There were battle photos and descriptions adorning the walls downstairs along with a model of the battleground that lit up as a voice described the fighting. The bench to watch and listen to this was jam packed, 7 people crammed into the tight seat, and looking pretty determined that they were staying put and not venturing out into the hot humidity. Or maybe they were stuck, I don't know, but I knew if I didn't start hiking, I'd be begging to join them.

The farmhouse from the back. A quick photo snap and then I turned my back, determined to get in some exercise.

There were plenty of grassy fields all around, similar to much of the terrain here at the battlefields...

...and some cannons stood in a line overlooking the ghostly scene. I came across many boards as I walked, with quotes from the bloody scenes that took part on that night. A description of the Second Manassas Battle fought on this land is here. As I stopped to read, I tried to imagine how these men must have fought. With little training, wearing heavy uniforms, they fought on an August evening, likely in a similar wet, clammy atmosphere as I was hiking in today. They carried heavy guns, pulled and pushed armory or supplies and fought physical fights. And here I was, and those people back in the house, wearing flimsy clothing, with nothing more than a light backpack, and walking slowly over prepared grounds. We wouldn't have lasted 30 seconds...
Those soldiers were constantly in my thoughts as I walked the trails, and whenever I stopped, I'd look about, studying the terrain, and wondering how different it would have been back then.

The landscape soon changed from the fields of waving grass and became more scrubby. I loved this scenery. There were so many different plants growing that I was unable to identify many of them but the most prolific were blackberry brambles climbing across the ground , loaded with new fruit, which I frequently stopped to munch on, enjoying the sweet and tart freshness.

There were also many boardwalks along the trails, it was very interesting scenery. I had started on the Brawner loop trail and then detoured off on to the Deep Edge trail, and it seemed I had the place completely to myself.I actually only saw two other couples on the trails, I guess the others were still sitting in the farmhouse.

I loved walking along this path with the dark grass in the middle, it seemed it was guiding me to a mystery land.

The air was filled with birdsong and so many butterflies, black, pale blue, yellow and brown. They flitted and fluttered around me and over, not keeping still for barely a second so that it was nigh impossible to take a photo. I did manage a quick shot of the ones above. I saw many of the Eastern-Tailed Blues and the Common Wood Nymphs but was unable to identify others, I'd never seen them before. Mockingbirds, jays and crows flew back and forth and I even spotted a dove as she flapped across to a tree with a beak full of twigs, making another nest before the summer finished.

 I came across what's referred to as an unfinished railroad grade, with the trail following it. I climbed up, immediately feeling a cool breeze as I looked over the shrubs and blackberries. There were also benches thoughtfully placed here but they weren't tempting me.

There were many wildflowers here too, so many plants grew in these fields, I particularly loved the way the petals of the vine weeds were tightly screwed up as though protecting themselves from the storm that was threatening. The weather was being very indecisive, sun one minute and dull the next, both with a constant oppressive dampness which was hard to ignore. The sky hung low as though pushing the air downwards, heavy grey clouds were being mostly successful in blocking the sun's rays.

I later came across this memorial on top of a hill, the Groveton Monument, built by the soldier after the battle to commemorate those they'd lost. There's a great little article about it here, with more photos. The Henry Hill Monument that they refer to is over near the visitor's center.
I eventually managed to find my way back to the farmhouse. I could have gone over into the more popular areas of the battlefields but I preferred to stay in the beautiful scrubby landscape that was filled with so many varied plants and wildlife. By the time I got back to the car, I'd likely hiked about 6-7 miles. I was hot, sticky with the humidity and feeling a few bites on my legs that were starting to itch, but I'd loved this afternoon, and this gorgeous part of the park is now a firm favorite on my local hikes list.

Bumming it for Free Beer in DC

There's an outside bar down in DC called Bardo. It used to have a reputation as the fun place to be, but whenever I looked at photos of it online, there was little appeal, just rickety wooden benches, bare ground clinging onto a few sparsely scattered clumps of grass, so it could be referred to as a lawn, and in general, seeming to have an air of grubbiness about it. My DC friends had all been but I'd resisted their invites, protesting absolutely no desire to visit this ghastly place. Until Emily played her trump card. She had purchased a Groupon offer which was $200 of beer, equaling 25 pitchers. Her timing was exquisite, she flaunted this at a moment when my guard was down and I gobbled the proverbial carrot, worm on a hook, the whole enchilada. I found out later that she'd had this coupon for a while and was indeed finding it hard to pull a group together to enjoy this free liquid feast. But finally she had lassoed those of her friends who would willingly forgive her for a night of horror, and so we all met as planned. I was wondrously fortunate in not having to drive that night, and even started the evening off early. While waiting for Emily to arrive at her house with her rental car I sat on her porch chatting with her neighbor, and knocking back a few preliminary beers, to dull my senses in preparation for the upcoming gnats' piss I would be compelled to quaff.

 We arrived at the bar, and my spirits lifted on seeing the fine group of friends that Emily had persuaded, or I'm sure bribed, to join her in this 'free' evening of consumption. I looked around, dismayed at the unkempt and shabby first impression this place threw at me. I'd looked at the website before arriving, and the reality looks a little more jaded than the images it portrayed. The bar was just about standing, looking like it had been constructed from scraps of wood found in alleys, and there also seemed to be a lot more dogs than people. Apparently it's a dog friendly place so I made a conscious note to ALWAYS look where I was putting my feet. I felt badly for the few patches of turf, trying vainly to evade the shadow of a raised leg... The stainless steel vats were at least a little shiny, but I chose not to inspect them for cleanliness, worried at what I might find, and so turned back to the group. We sat down at a metal table that looked as though it had been driven over a few times and then hammered back into shape but the stained wooden benches looked relatively sturdy so I sat and focused on the beer list. I was actually impressed with the number of beers on here, and some of them sounded quite tasty, so Emily started off with a gingery concoction, that resembled washing up liquid, along with a brown ale and an IPA.  We supped and grimaced, and pretty much, that was how the drinking progressed. But the company was superb and we were having a whale of a time, until the rain started. No gentle spatters to slowly alert us of the incoming torrents, it was as though a hose had been turned on us. Grabbing the pitchers, we charged with the remaining punters to a dimly lit interior with sagging floorboards and a lot of wooden tables with benches and chairs.

Emily and Bob inspecting the door, wondering if it really worked as a door or was the opening to the Tardis.

The rain hammered down outside and some of it came in too. Poor Deb was bravely fending off splashes with her elbow from a spring that had developed in the roof above her. But regardless we bravely carried on drinking, and after a while the beer wasn't too bad. They were watery imitations of the fine craft beers we're used to supping but we did agree that we could progress with the brown ale and the IPA. I patted myself on the back, remembering the Ibuprofen I'd brought with me, I had a nagging feeling a headache would be the first thing I'd awake to in the morning.

Richard obviously isn't impressed with Bob's repertoire here, or it could be the beer...

Not impressed with Walter's either. It must be the beer,

OK, so now the beer was getting to everyone.

 The Marion Berry Lambic.

And eventually the rain ceased its attack, with Richard and Walter jumping at the opportunity to escape. He certainly looked a lot happier at being on the other side of the window.

The inside of the bar, then outside with Emily and Margie discussing the beer list to a drenched bar man. We only managed 6 pitchers between us, so there's still another 19 that need to be consumed. We have to go back! Oh, the humanity!

 My last photo of the evening. Emily's rental car had very cool lighting in the foot wells, giving the impression that our last stop had been in a disco. Maybe it was...