Shepherdstown and Harper's Ferry.

Because we confined our trip to Berkely Springs to a single weekend, and we got settled in Friday night, we only really had one full day to explore the area. Through the relatively modest amount of research I did beforehand I knew that there wasn't a lot of essentials that I would regret missing. I figured we'd spend part of Saturday on the road, and had some vague plans about towns I'd like to visit while I had the chance.

We were in the easternmost part of WV, and that section of the state seems more like Virginia or Maryland then the land of "hoopies". Part of the reason for that is its proximity to Washington DC. It was pretty clear that many people from the capitol region have summer houses near Berkely Springs. It's not as hilly as the main part of West Virginia, and it has a discernibly different identity. The most common description that ran through my head was "quaint". There are a lot of self-consciously old-fashioned small towns, with clean streets and little shops. In addition the area has a whole lot of Civil War history. Having enjoyed our trip to Gettysburg a few years ago, we figured seeing some similar battle sights might be worthwhile.

Unfortunately since the previous few days had been exhausting, we got a late start. Around noon we plotted a course, and I despaired of seeing much of all. Then of course the bridge spanning that particular stretch of the Potomac was confined to a single lane of costruction (relecting perhaps the recent tragedy of bridge collapse?) , and that took away another bite of precious time. But we made a big circle around our target towns on route 70, and eventually got off around Antietam. I know almost nothing about the specifics of that battle, and I was looking forward to seeing the miniature replica of the conflict at a roadside museum. Can you believe that it was closed at 2PM on a Saturday? This added to our overall bleak impression of our itinerary. We drove a bit through the battleground itself and scanned a few plaques, but without a greater context it meant close to nothing. Anyway neither of us are particularly interested in staring at barren expanses- we are more likely to appreciated a cheesy wax museum. We drove on through Sharpsburg.

Eventually we found Shepherdstown which contains the small Shepherd College. I was struck by the contrived old-timey feeling of the business district. It felt like a living reconstruction of a contemporary yuppie's dream of historically significant shopping. Yes... it was quaint. I did however find several shops worth spending time in. Four Season Books has a nice back room of remainders and used books. Their selection was broad and hip. We grabbed lunch at the Yellow Brick Bank. We probably would not have chosen the restaurant at dinner (too expensive), but lunch was excellent and reasonably priced. I had a pasta dish with several different cheeses, and it was delectable. The interior is charming with its old-school stylings and decor. They also have a good beer selection (which I chose not to take advantage of). I followed lunch with a stop at The Lost Dog coffeehouse, which was surprisingly progressive and hip. There was vaguely edgy art on the walls, and its staff would be completely at home in any prospering inner city enclave. And they didn't stumble on my extremely finicky drink order.

Thus fortified we continued down the road to Harper's Ferry. I had desired a look at at the scene of John Brown's aborted rebellion, and I figured on taking a relaxed walk through another forgotten village. Almost immediately we realized that it's actually a significant tourist destination. The town-planners have set up a system to encourage visitors to park in a lot outside of town, and pay $6 to ride a shuttle bus. I wasn't having it. I figured I'd be able to find street parking. Once we got to its center, I thought I had made a mistake. But against all odds we found a free space right in the thick of things. It was surprisingly crowded with white faces perched atop business-casual outfits. If you ever plan to visit, you need to wear your "sensible" shoes, because it is packed with steep inclines and outdoor stairways. The park service has restored several buildings with artifacts and original designs, and the history buff can peer through glass at the interiors. Among those buildings are a mass of shops and restaurants where you can buy civil war replicas and sweets.

Although we couldn't find anything that looked like a centralized museum, we did go inside the John Brown Wax Museum. Even though I made sure to get permission to take photos, the old crone manning the desk felt obliged to threaten a lawsuit should I deign to sell any images. In every moment she gave us the impression that she hates her plight in life. Maybe she is paranoid that some ambitious competitor will rise up and start a rival wax museum in town. She was actually babbling to herself as we looked at the first few vignettes. Perhaps she continued, but eventually we were beyond the reach of her whiney voice. In retrospect- if she was so suspicious of my intentions, she should have simply prohibited any photography. I would have accepted that, as it is policy at many such places. Anyway the exhibits were vaguely entertaining, if not exactly life-like. I would suggest that when that bitter old woman at the front counter dies, she should be stuffed and promoted as John Brown's long-suffering wife. It will give the place some added bite.

Overall I would recommend Harper's Ferry as a diverting family experience. It does seem that its modern inhabitants have a wish to insulate it from the homogenization of gimmicky technology. I admire the commitment to preserve the historical authenticity of the village. There are a host of live actors in period costumes that lend a serious tenor to the events that took place there. Unfortunately the arsenal itself is long gone, and the firehouse that housed the captured rebels has been moved repeatedly. But there is enough to see to warrant spending the better part of a day in Harper's Ferry. And if the kids get restless they can always go for a dip in the river.

Berkely Springs, WV.

Well... every once in awhile it's good to have a complete getaway. Part of the joy in such a trip is shirking responsibility and dropping everyday routines. During my first two forays on the road this summer I still felt some pressure from the inertia of this blog. Even though I had met my goal of a year of posts, I still felt compelled to write daily entries. That wasn't the case this time. M. and I drove to Berkely Springs, WV. We chose the location as appropriate for a private weekend. It's only about three hours from the 'Burgh, and the driving mostly avoids the type of mountainous roads that make M. nervous. I had never been there before, and had planned on doing more research than I had, but then the power went out and we spent a tense and hot night in the dark. So when we left Friday morning, we were mostly blind to the area.

The claim to fame of Berkely Springs is that it was the first major spa destination of the republic. Luminaries such as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Meriwether Lewis were known to take the waters there. It contained sulfates, carbonates, and nitrates, and was considered to be good for digestive ailments and stress relief. When it comes out of the mountains, it is 74 degrees Fahrenheit. There are still multiple spas in modern day Berkely Springs, and they still attract a lot of tourists from the Washington DC area. But the area has also tried to build a reputation as a small-town arts center, and it contains an artist co-op in a converted ice house. Walking down the few streets of downtown the visitor sees galleries, fancy gift shops and a few fine restaurants. Predictably the wares are the furthest thing from being edgy. The stuff is mostly meant to be high-priced wall decoration. And most of the businesses close at 5PM, no matter what day it is. The town is not known for its sparkling nightlife, so if you go- plan your evening activities elsewhere.

We did eat two meals in Berkely Springs. The first was at an Italian restaurant called Maria's Garden. The proprietors are clearly Catholics, and they have a counter where you can buy Christian lit, and sundries with the images of saints. The food was decent, if a bit misleading. M.'s vegatarian sub had bits of meat that were left over on the grill. My Chicken Cacciatore had large chunks of beef in the meat sauce. I began to belief their conversion efforts were twofold, though everything did taste good. Last night we ate Mexican, and it was standard fare. I was extraordinarily pleased to discover that the Creamery (where we got dessert) featured Butter Brickle ice cream. You can't get that in the 'Burgh.

The most distinctive part of our little vacation was definitely our accomodations. M. booked us a little place from Berkely Springs Cottage Rentals. It was called the Back Creek Cabin, and I believe that it lived up to its billing. We had to take a series of increasingly dodgy backroads to get to the place. They narrowed until the point that they were clearly one-lane paths. At the end of the wooded trail was a steep incline that would be impassable if wet and muddy- at least without an ATV. All through our stay I worried that it would rain, and we would be stuck. We were very fortunate in terms of the weather. We also felt lucky when we got in the doors of the cottage. It seemed that the people in charge of the place had thought of everything. Considering its remote location, we were amazed at how well appointed it was. There was a full kitchen with microwave, a TV with VCR, DVD and Direct TV, and a queen-sized bed with lots of extra pillows and blankets. Two comfy recliners were provided for lounging. Outside on the porch there were some great chairs and a grill. A fire pit with a stockpile of wood was nearby. But the biggest treat was the A.C., which was especially appreciated after our experience with the blackout at home. Someone even thought to keep it running for our arrival. The place was immaculately clean and thoroughly insulated. For its reasonable price, we were quite pleased- what a great little hideway!

During our first night there, I think we were the only people on the mountain. I took a walk to check out the scene. There were a few other scattered cabins and lodges, but no cars or lights in sight. The thick woods obscured the surroundings. This fact made it especially cozy and special. Whenever I went outside the cabin and sat for a cigarette, I marvelled at the sounds of the chirping insects. Between the crickets and cicadas, it sounded like the deep jungle. I loved it. I turned out the porchlights and stared up through the trees at the stars. The total darkness accentuated the experience, and I had the minor thrill of being (almost) totally alone in the wilderness. It made going inside and watching late night television a unique experience. On the second night our distant neighbors were whooping it up with loud country music. A sharp disappointment accompanied the shattering of my illusion of isolation. But once night fell, and the sounds of the forest asserted themselves, I was happy again. It was exactly the experience I had been looking for.