It was Independence Day weekend, 2003. My fiance and I decided to take our first trip together as a couple. We both agreed it would be a camping trip. This would help keep the costs down, and would give us experience traveling together. I felt that the Shenandoah region was a good place to go.
I did not know much about the Shenandoah region back then, only that it was a nice place to go. We had a Target gift card worth $150 that we had gotten for our engagement, and we used it to buy a tent and other camping supplies. I had printed out a list from a website of all the campsites in that region, or at least what I thought was all. With nothing more, we just got into the car on that Friday, and headed out on west I-70 from Baltimore.
This was besides all the above, like an impulse trip. We did not call and make any reservations anywhere. We did not even study the map. We just started driving. We wondered whether we would stay anywhere that night, or just go home.
In the Frederick, MD area, we got off and started heading down US-340, which goes toward the Harper's Ferry area. I had never driven there before. I had been by myself in the Shenandoah region for various work assignments, but on those occasions, I took I-70 straight to I-81 (it is a toss-up which is faster, because US-340 is a diaganol shortcut and is fewer miles, but I-81 has a higher speed limit and no lights). I had never seen what US-340 was like. What I remember we did along this route was we stopped at a Wal-Mart Super Center in West Virginia. Back then, Maryland didn't have any such thing, and I had only been to one once before. WOW!
There was some small museum, I think in the Winchester, VA area. I don't remember much of what it was about, but what I do remember was that I was wearing my Capitol/Washington Monument sweater that day, since it was July 4 (hopefully you will get to read about it in my Freestyle Knitting blog. A lady came up to me and asked me about my sweater. I told her that I made it. I was carrying in the car with me at the time a knitted framed picture of the Washington Monument that I had made out of the same yarns. But I made no attempt at the time to sell it to her. This was one of the many encounters I have had over the years in which I have managed to impress someone with my knitting, but been able to sell nothing.
Before leaving the Winchester area, we pulled over so we could call some campgrounds to find a place to stay that evening. It was some time in the later afternoon, I don't remember exactly when, but I know it was approaching dinner time. It was either now or never. I took out my list and started calling. Most of the campgrounds that answered said that they were either completely booked, or were very expensive. What I mean by that is, more than $30, possibly more than $40 a night. For that price, we could have found ourselves a good motel! But that was not what we had wanted to spend. I remember camping when I was a teenager, and it was just $10 a night. Now they are asking as much as a motel for just a patch of gravel! Some of the places told me the prices were high because it was a holiday weekend. A convenient holiday weekend for them, that is.
Finally, I managed to reach one place that quoted me at $21. I was ready to take it. But there was one stipulation, they told me. This was not a traditional campground for tents. Yes, tents were allowed. But it was geared to RVs. It was on a flat plot of land, mostly with tall grass, with no trees. I decided to go there and take a look. I was ready to accept it, even if it wasn't perfect.
After some driving down I-81 to New Market, Virginia, we arrived at the campground. The first impression was not good. There were a lot of RVs there. But the crowd was mostly a lot of drunks. And it was clearly not a nice place to pitch a tent.
We didn't say anything, but the lady working there could tell by the looks on our faces that we were not happy. And she was not ready to force us to stay there either. Instead, she recommended another place to us down the road called "Endless Caverns" (http://www.endlesscavern.com/). We quickly got back into the car and headed out there.
We got more than we bargained for. The campground at Endless Caverns was just $15 a night. It was the campground we had imagined staying at. Each site had electricity, something for which you typically pay extra at most places. The sites were not reserved - they were open to take whatever came up. And best of all, the crowd there was quite savory. No drunks, no noisy people, just couples like us.
This place was not listed, not advertised anywhere, and it turned out to be the cheapest, and the best.
After we settled in, we pitched our tent, and cooked ourselves some dinner using our supplies. We then headed out to the center of New Market to see the fireworks.
The following day, we first went and saw Endless Caverns. It was obvious when we had gotten to the place that the campground was not just a campground. It was also a cave that gave tours. Not as sophisticated as luray, but still a nice tour. Since we were on the grounds already, we might as well see it. The cost was $14 per person, a far cry from the much lower prices my parents paid on the many cave tours they took me on when I was a child. One thing I have found since I have grown up is that while many other thing have not even doubled, tourism has really skyrocketed in price from my childhood.
The cave did have stalactites and stalagmites just like luray. One question I had asked while I was inside was how long the tours had been given. The tour guide told me they started in 1879. I also asked how one could get a job as a cave tour guide, and he told me that no special education was needed, just an interest. He was a college student, and had no special credentials. Not that I ever had any plans to do that, but I was still curious.
After the cave tour was done, we went to an attraction I do not remember the name of in New Market. I do not remember exactly what it was about, but I do remember that it was a farm that gave tours of the dairy industry. It was kind of interesting, and there was a good crowd.
Mt. Red Knob
We next went to Harrisonburg. My car, at that point, needed oil, so we stopped at an auto parts store, and got some oil. We were near a camp where my fiance once worked, and she wanted to show it to me. She remembered how to get there, and she guided me there. It was something.
She also told me that she wanted to take me the see the highest mountain in Virginia, Mt. Red Knob. Her camp had taken everyone to the summit one time, and she wanted to bring back those memories. She had, likewise remembered how to get there.
The Mt. Red Knob experience was not the best one I ever had. It was an eye opener.
First, the area where it was did not look so nice. It was not an urban slum. But it was not any better. The whole area of the state of Virginia was filled with rural poverty. I had heard of rural poverty before. Now I was seeing it firsthand.
The roads there were wide enough for two cars to get by, but had no dividing yellow lines. For the most part, there were no structures located on any of them. But there was the occasional business. And these businesses were something else. Each one was a small shop that sold just hot dogs, chips, soda, beer, and cigarettes, not much else. Most of the shelves in the shops were empty. Obviously, they were struggling. Each one had an unbranded gas station with one or two pumps attached. As for the shops themselves, they were always named with a three-digit number, something like "699 Store." (That was not an exact number-name. I am just giving some idea). I did enter a couple of them just to ask for directions.
Finally, we managed to find the road leading up to Mt. Red Knob. It was a very narrow road, barely wide enough for two cars to pass. It had no dividing line. At first, the road seemed flat. But then, it tooka turn toward an uphill grade.
All of a sudden, the road got very steep, and started going in circles. It didn't feel like such a safe road. On one side, there was a cliff going downhill. The other side was the exact opposite. There was no guard rail, just a vertical drop.
It took maybe 20 minutes or so to make it to the top of the mountain. The top stretch of the road was the scariest of all. At that point, the road narrowed and steepened as it reached the summit. At the peak, said to be the highest point in Virginia, there was a flat piece of asphalt that had 4 parking spaces and little more room to drive - or to stand. As we were on the top, there was one other young couple there, enjoying themselves like we were trying to. We actually felt a little safer not being alone.
After a while, we decided to go back down. It was something we eventually had to do. We could not stay up there forever.
Making it down the narrow part of the road I knew would be difficult. I did it very slowly. At one point, I minivan came rushing up. I don't remember exactly how, but somehow, I was able to let it by. I think there may have been small areas in that section where one car could sit while another passed in the opposite direction. But I did make it back to the section that seemed narrow on the way up, but all of a sudden felt wide.
Now, for the killer. I had to go down the mountain. The road felt so vertical all of a sudden. No gas was needed - gravity would bring my car down with every little partial release of my foot from brake pedal. I was driving down the mountain little by little by releasing and then pressing again on the brakes. I didn't think this was so healthy or the car's brakes, but the alternative was my life. I felt I was staring death straight down, for one mistake would bring the car tumbling off the mountain.
And this gets me. Other people were driving in the reverse direction as I was making my way down. And they were driving so natually, like it was an interstate highway or something. There were other cars going downward, too. And as I started and stopped, other cars going in a downward direction, likewise would pass me, and they viewed me as some annoyance to their routine travels. I wonder who would ever go up that mountain routinely anyway. There was nothing there, other than this flat pavement at the top for informal tourists like us.
I finally made it to the bottom after what felt like the longest drive of my life. I could not wait to get back to the campsite, have dinner, and get ready to go to sleep.
Skyline Drive
On Sunday morning, we got up, and we backed everything into the car, now that we were planning on going home that evening. I didn't know exactly what we would do that day, but we wanted to do something, whatever was in the area. We were near Luray Caverns, but that was too expensive, and we were taking this trip on a budget.
We did find a small zoo nearby called the Luray Zoo (http://www.lurayzoo.com/). We went up to see what it had to offer, and we though the $7 per person admission price seemed like more than we wanted to pay, we decided to see it anyway. The lady at the counter told us they had 75 exhibits, and that seemed like a high number.
After paying, the first room we walked into was lined with cages filled with many kinds of snakes, seemingly dozens. At that point, my fiance grabbed me and screemed in fear "I'm afraid of snakes!" She then quickly led me to the next area. I don't remember what it was, but it was evident from that point on that the zoo was quite small, and that most of the 75 exhibits were the snakes. In all, the zoo had reptiles and farm animals. And since the snake cages were so small, many of them could fit into one room, counting for a good number of those 75 exhibits.
I have held snakes before. Non-poisonous ones, that is. But it was new to me that someone could fear a snake that is behind glass, in an enclosure that is opened from only behind the scenes, that obviously was not capable of hurting anyone. But my fiance eventually managed to brave out seeing the snakes while holding my hand. She really wanted to.
I later asked her what she was more afraid of - snakes or trucks. Her answer was trucks.
After leaving the zoo, we headed out to Skyline Drive, which was nearby. I had heard the name Skyline Drive before, but I didn't know fully what it was. I was just beginning to realize that it was some major attraction in the area.
The roads in this area were quite mountainous, but nothing like Mt. Red Knob from the day before. At first when I saw this, it was of great concern. After the terrifying experience a day earlier, I did not want a repeat at Skyline Drive. I was prepared to turn back if I had to.
The entrance fee to Skyline Drive was a shocker - $10. I was not prepared after all the spending on this "low budget" trip for something that high. But we were here already. I had noticed that the $10 entitled you to unlimited entries for a week. We had thought about coming back there later in the week. But that would not happen.
But we did make a lot out of this visit. We entered where a visitor center called the Panorama was located. Around there was a scenic overlook that was really breathtaking. WOW!
Skyline Drive did not turn out to be that terrifying after all. As its name implied, it was a drive at sky level, not up and down. Yes, you do have to drive up, but that is more like a normal road. As for the main part of the route, you don't notice too much of a grade. It was just a very breathtaking view.
We did a lot of nice things at Skyline Drive. We stopped at scenic overlooks, took walks and hikes, and picnicked. The biggest thing of all we did was we hiked over a mile round trip down to see the bottom of a waterfall. While we were on our way down to the waterfall, I remember a lady who recognized us from the zoo. She said to my fiance "you are the one who is afraid of snakes." It was so funny. Someone else saw us in both places where we were.
I knew Skyline Drive was a place I would want to return to some day. But we only had a few hours to spend here, and then we had to head home, because my fiance had work the next day.
I decided to take I-66 to get home, something I would not dare do on a weekday. This was on a Sunday afternoon, and the traffic was quite bad. The DC area is headed toward surpassing LA as the nation's worst traffic, and if it were that bad on a Sunday, how much worse would it be on a weekday? And besides, I could see that my fiance was indeed more scared of trucks than snakes. The highway was full of 18-wheelers, and even as they sat still, she was no less fearful than if they were tailgating. I can understand why she would be afraid, too, after having been in a horrible accident during her childhood.
to be continued
