A road trip to the boat show ...
At the end of our trek along the parkway, we stayed the night at the historic Roanoke Hotel, which I had stayed at for a history of technology conference some thirty years earlier. It was an expensive night, but a fun reminiscence for me.
We spent a night in the town of Beckley, and the next morning, with rain clouds just starting to give way to sun, we visited Tamarack, a large arts and crafts facility run as an economic development project of the West Virginia Parkways Authority. (This is really worth a stop if you are ever driving through West Virginia on Interstate 77.)
Our next stop was Hawk's Nest State Park, where we took a tram down to the river and had lunch. Next, we stopped by Bill Garnette's family farm and the small family cemetery where he is buried, and then drove on to Gallipolis, Ohio. Known to fans of Bob Evans restaurants as the home of the chain's founder, Gallipolis was was settled in 1790 by French aristocrats escaping the guillotine in their homeland. It is said the men wanted to push on further down the Ohio, but their wives insisted on going no further. What is seems to be true is that the Scioto Company, owned by American speculators, swindled the French, who in the end appealed for aid to President Washington. Whether or not it was Washington's doing, the company ultimately sent woodsmen to build a log-cabin settlement for the hapless French on the riverfront land that today boasts the town's park and gazebo.
From Gallipolis, we drove north and east into Ohio, destination Penelope's home town, Mount Vernon. Just short of Mount Vernon, we stopped at a little breakfast restaurant for one of the best meals we had anywhere. We literally just squeaked in before the door was shut a noon, but we along with all the other customers were treated as best friends and family by everybody working there. This little place knew their business, and if we were better travel guides, we'd remember the name. Alas, we don't.
After we took Nanny home, we checked into our motel for the night, and turned our eyes toward the remainder of our trip. Although rainy weather was threatening, we decided to continue on our plan to drive south to Franklin, West Virginia. We had a reservation in the Silver Maple Hubbard Inn, a bed and breakfast, and we hoped we could reach Spruce Knob before the rains came. Spruce Knob is the highest peak in West Virginia, and in 1946, when Bill was a naval aviator, he caught a ride with another aviator to fly from Virginia to somewhere in West Virginia. They became socked in by clouds just as they were going over the mountains and crashed on the top of Spruce Knob. Bill survived, barely, and was found the next day by a couple of locals who were clearing a fire break. The pilot did not. Penelope had told me the story, of course, and Bill had written it up for the West Virginia Historical Society's magazine, which I'd read, but one really had to see the spot to get the enormity of the story. Although we did not get to the top, we both saw the problem of the clouds, for as we drove up the mountain the clouds settled right on us and we became quite socked in ourselves.
The Silver Maple Inn awaited us, and we drove down to it through some of the most beautiful changing leaves ever. Our host met us at the Inn and we discovered that we had the place to ourselves, the only guests and even our host lived elsewhere. It was a lovely spot, and after slipping out to the only decent restaurant in town, we spent a really relaxing night.
A drizzle met us again the next day, and we set out for Baltimore, driving over to Harrisonburg, Virginia, thence up the Shenandoah Valley, skirting around D.C., and on to Baltimore. We spent the night in a downtown hotel, just a little way from Baltimore's famous inner harbor. Rather than take our car from the hotel to dinner, we caught a taxi to go to Bertha's Mussels in Fells Point, old Baltimore. I first went there when at history of technology conference in the 1990s, and the dinghy for our cutter Alizee sports a Bertha's Mussels bumper sticker as a nameplate. Since the nameplate is peeling off, we simply had to go to Bertha's to get a replacement (we got several). The mussels were good, though not as spectacular as I recall, but that may be because I've learned to do the most amazing mussel dishes.
The next day we checked out or our hotel around ten o'clock, drove through the inner harbor area, parked and went to the National Aquarium. If you like aquariums, Baltimore's really is about the best in the country, even better than the Monterey Bay Aquarium, in my humble opinion. Anyway, we spent a good two hours there, ending with a dolphin show, to which we arrived just as it started. Our good luck. ... After lunch we hit the road to Annapolis, where we checked into the Maryland Inn, one of the historic inns of the city, for a three-night stay and the boat show (our next post).
2 Comments:
Thanks for the kind mention of the Aquarium in your recent post! We're glad you both enjoyed your visit and we hope to see you again soon!
The young pilot killed that day on Spruce Knob in 1946 was Lt. Reginald Floyd Parsons USN, from Huntington WV. 1918-1946
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