<< Day 33: Cape Hatteras to Virginia Beach | Day 35: Washington, D.C. >>
Virginia Beach to Outskirts of Washington, D.C.
We had a bit of a late start this morning due to an accident between a car and a bicyclist at the campground. Ben was a witness, as well as the first person on the scene. A 10 year old boy on a bike cut through a vacant RV spot and zipped out into the road without looking, at the same time that a car was rounding the corner going a little too fast. The car hit the bike, and the boy flew off, possibly breaking his ankle. Ben did his best to keep the boy still until help arrived; the boy spoke only French, and finally a French-speaking woman arrived who could assist with finding the parents. The car driver was an EMT, so he immediately got his medical bag and started monitoring the boy’s status. Ben had to fill out a witness statement. The last Ben saw was the boy being loaded into an ambulance.
Before leaving, we sat down with Genevieve and Sebastian and talked about the importance of following safe traffic rules when bicycling, especially the rule about looking first before entering a street. We had discussed this topic in the past, of course, but one can only hope that repetition will solidify those safety rules firmly into their brains.
Today we were heading north to Washington, D.C. We passed through the Virginia Beach resort area one last time before driving away from the coast. The large murals and paintings were a colorful addition to the strip.
A lot had changed here since my childhood—the hotels were bigger and much more numerous, and most of the older homes, 1-story motels and other buildings had been demolished. However, there were still some lingering remnants, with buildings that had yet to be renovated.
The highway passed within ½ mile of my childhood home, so of course we had to take a look.
A few changes had occurred in the neighborhood, but I was pleased that most people seemed to be taking care of their homes and yards.
Here is the Baptist church where I spent many Sundays singing (and making dyed popcorn seed mosaics and other crafts during summer-camp workshops).
I was pleased to see that the library had been expanded--this place was a constant source of pleasure and escape for me as a child. I must have checked out hundreds, if not thousands, of books.
My modest childhood home had undergone some upgrades and improvements, but the essence was still there.
My elementary school was two blocks away. The old buildings had been demolished. The new, bigger structure was quite impressive.
The highway signs near my home now included directions showing the “Hurricane Evacuation Route”.
Back on the freeway, we passed by Mt. Trashmore, which was a landfill project that had been turned into a community park in 1971.
The large open spaces in front were now covered in trees, so the two mountains (made of compressed trash and clean soil) were difficult to see. I had spent many fun-filled hours at this park—zooming down the tallest long hill at top speed on my bicycle (no bike helmet laws then, and I am amazed that I didn’t kill myself), riding the paddleboats across the lake, watching July 4th fireworks, listening to outdoor live bands, and running up and down the hills and around the two lakes during high school cross-country trainings and races.
Crossing the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel, we could see the Navy ships in the distance.
The bridge/tunnel is 3.5 miles long and crosses over/under the main shipping route to Norfolk and Hampton from the Chesapeake Bay and Atlantic Ocean.
The tunnel:
As a teenager, I saw many concerts at the Hampton Coliseum (as well as the neighboring Norfolk Scope arena): the Eagles, Parliament-Funkadelic, Bootsy Collins, Rick James, The Commodores, Teddy Pendergrass, Chicago, Average White Band, and more. Ahhh, good times.
As an alternative to being on the Interstate for the next 3 hours, I looked at my map and found a small road that cut north through eastern Virginia. We turned off onto highway 17, which was the George Washington Memorial Highway. Initially, we were in heavy stop-and-go traffic that lurched through a long series of stop lights.
Ben and I decided that we would rather be on the Interstate than stuck in heavy traffic amidst strip malls and housing developments. I found a tiny road to connect us back to the Interstate. We enjoyed the beauty of this small road immensely.
We drove over the peaceful Harwood Mills Reservoir.
Oops! We took a wrong turn, and soon we arrived back at highway 17! However, we were 4 miles north of where we had started, so we had bypassed all of the strip malls and traffic. Okay, it looked like we were not meant to take the Interstate today. After a good laugh, we continued on our way.
Ben commented that no one was driving the speed limit, which was posted at 45 m.p.h. Everyone was doing at least 60 m.p.h.
Driving over the York River:
We couldn’t even begin to count the number of Baptist churches that we passed. Here is one with a marquee that read “The Bible. Read it. Believe it. Obey it.”
Most of the churches were made of brick, but here is a pretty white one made of wood:
This road was peppered with historical markers. Unlike in the western states, there was no advance warning that a marker was placed ahead. More important, most of the markers were placed near the road with no pull-off room to stop and read the marker in depth. Even if we had been in a tiny car, pulling over would have been unsafe. I tried snapping photos of the markers as we passed; later, I could download the photos, zoom in on the markers, and exclaim to Ben, “Oh THAT was what we drove by!”
Around lunchtime, we arrived in the small town of Gloucester.
The Gloucester Museum of History:
We drove around looking for a park or an elementary school with a playground.
We liked the colors of this building:
This small home was for sale:
The words “Home is the Beginning” decorated the doorway of this beehive:
A Masonic building:
A junior high school:
Two pretty houses:
We soon found an elementary school with some nice play structures for Genevieve and Sebastian.
In front of the school was an old log cabin that was now owned by the Boy Scouts.
While I prepared lunch, Sebastian got out the rubber-band powered plane that he and Ben had built. They flew it together in the school field.
As at home, Ben and I have an arrangement that one person prepares the meal and the other person cleans up the dishes. I would much rather cook than clean, so that is the usual practice. Of course, we often help each other out, so there is some overlap. Here is Ben cleaning the lunch dishes today.
A marquee in front of a church on the outskirts of Gloucester read, “Forbidden fruit creates many jams.”
Driving through the countryside, I was enamored with all of the old houses.
I especially loved this weathered building in its field of golden grass.
This small home was for sale.
(I can picture the real estate ad: “Charming bungalow with antique fixtures; needs TLC; lots of potential . . . .”)
We stopped in the town of Tappahannock to replenish our groceries.
I snapped a photo of this historical marker entitled “Vauter’s Church” as we passed.
I later learned that the building on the left was Vauter's Episcopal Church, built in 1731. It is one of the oldest colonial churches in Virginia, and has bricks that are laid in a Flemish bond pattern, with mortar made from oyster shells. In 1761, the parish had a dispute with the government over a minister that had been selected for the church by the governor. Although the governor prevailed, the dispute prompted the enactment of a law that authorized vestries to choose their own ministers.
The contrast of colors in this field was so beautiful:
Another pretty house:
We passed by a sign that pointed down the road to the birthplace of George Washington.
However, we would have to save the exploration of that historical site for another trip; it was almost 5:30 p.m., and we had promised the kids that they could play in the pool for a long time when we arrived at our campground.
We drove over the Harry Nice Memorial Bridge, crossing the Potomac River.
Construction of the 1.7 mile bridge was completed in 1939. It provided the first highway connection between Maryland and Virginia, south of Washington D.C.. It was originally called the Potomac River bridge, but was renamed in 1967 for a former Maryland governor.
The Potomac River marks the boundary between Virginia and Maryland.
A long spit of land protruded into the water.
On the Maryland side was a large factory with tall, striped smokestacks.
Welcome to Maryland!
Our campground was in College Park, Maryland, only a short distance by public transportation from Washington D.C. After we arrived, we cooked dinner quickly while the children played on the playground. They met a young girl who did not speak any English; however, they all had stuffed animals and managed to communicate together quite well.
Ben took the kids to the pool tonight, while I did some much-needed laundry and caught up on some writing. We were all looking forward to spending the next two days exploring our nation’s capital.
<< Day 33: Cape Hatteras to Virginia Beach | Day 35: Washington, D.C. >>
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