Colonial Williamsburg

A room from the old psychiatric hospital, now a museum in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

It being Saturday, it was time for Jessica’s chains to come off so we could take her from the Public Hospital for some fresh air. She’s been making progress since thinking she had turned into a crab bent on dismembering her father, and her doctors felt it was a good time to allow her a small taste of freedom. This old hospital built in 1773 for the mentally ill is now a museum here in Colonial Williamsburg and was one of our first stops on a busy day. Someone had made the best recommendation for a great breakfast at the Old Chickahominy House, and I do mean great; their biscuits are otherworldly.

Governors Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

Arriving early we were offered the opportunity to miss the otherwise long lines that form to tour the Governor’s Palace. Just in case you were wondering, my daughter wasn’t really chained to the wall in a mental hospital; she was actually stuffed in the trunk of our car overnight.

Governors Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

When Caroline, her mom, and I were here back in May, we didn’t have the time to visit the Governor’s Palace, which was unfortunate. On this visit, we learned that it was well worth buying the Colonial Williamsburg Admission Pass. The tour is conducted by guides in period dress who are very knowledgeable about the Palace and how it functioned in its day.

The last governor to reside here was Thomas Jefferson. Unfortunately, fire consumed the original structure, but the reconstructed palace offers a great feel for what had once been here.

Governors Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

A close-up view of the wallpaper from the room above. This is the level of detail they’ve taken in these restorations. Speaking of the process of restoration and preservation, it was John D. Rockefeller back in 1926 who was inspired to take on the project of saving this important part of Colonial America.

Governors Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

I can only imagine what it costs to maintain this herculean effort of preservation, so visitors have this opportunity to peer back into history.

Governors Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

There is one downside to witnessing so much living history: can it survive capitalism? If the National Park system took over this historic district, it would likely strip the actors and reduce things to self-guided tours. Restaurants would be served by some ugly cafeteria-like contractor as it does with much of its food service. It is a kind of tragedy that a place like Colonial Williamsburg appears to be of not much interest to middle America. Maybe things would run better if it was more like the Ahwahnee Hotel in Yosemite (rooms there are $1,000 per night). The wealthy would take a greater interest in ensuring it was well-funded into the future.

A living exhibit at the Governors Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

Seeing the kitchen at work really adds to the sense of the time some couple of hundred years ago.

Governors Palace in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

The gardens of the Governor’s Palace.

Servants quarters.

An art exhibit piece at the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

The DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum is entered through the Public Hospital. This was another item missed when we were here with my mother-in-law earlier this year.

An art exhibit piece at the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

We spent two hours sifting through the exhibits and could have easily spent another few hours had time allowed.

An art exhibit piece at the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

This stoneware jug from either Cologne or Frechen, Germany, was made between 1550 and 1575 and gifted to Adam Winthrop, who gave it to his son John Winthrop, one of the first governors of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. He brought it to America in 1630 after leaving England that year.

An art exhibit piece at the DeWitt Wallace Decorative Arts Museum in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

The Abbey Aldrich Rockefeller Folk Art Museum is part of the DeWitt and adds a great sense of the personal creativity from those colonial times that helps round out our museum visit.

Back on Duke of Gloucester Street we stop at the Weavers Shop and watch a demonstration of spinning fibers to make yarn. This didn’t last long as we were once again hungry and shortly on our way to the King’s Arms Tavern for lunch.

Interior of the Capitol Building at Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

The next stop is at the Capitol Building, where, earlier in the year, we were able to enjoy a harpsichord concert by candlelight. Taking the tours and listening to the guides walk us through the history of the period really helps capture a better feeling for the place we are visiting. Don’t skimp trying to save a few dollars when visiting Williamsburg by listening to some other websites out there that say you can see plenty on your own; the admission pass opens up the history that is on offer here.

Notes that could have been annotated to my photos sure would have been helpful so I could describe the purpose of this room in the Capitol building.

“We are here to negotiate the release of one of your prisoners.”

Jessica Aldridge behind bars in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

Yeppers, my daughter, ended up in jail. I posted bail, and lucky for her the judge let her off easy. What did she do to deserve this, you ask? She was seen in public kissing fishes; some old law on the books forbids public displays of intimacy with ectothermic piscine life; who knew?

Woodworking shop in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

The evening is quickly approaching. We have visited a number of small shops and woven our way through the streets of Colonial Williamsburg.

Draftsman at Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

Visiting the draftsman will be the last stop on this leg of the day as we’ll start moving toward our dinner reservation.

A fife and drum marching band on parade up Main Street in Colonial Williasmburg, Virginia

Our feet are beginning to hurt, and hunger is approaching, but still, we are willing to rush from one corner of the historic district to the other end as cannon fire draws our attention back toward the Capitol Building. We arrive at a fife and drum marching band parading up Duke of Gloucester Street. Caroline ran ahead to capture the ceremony on video as Jessica, and I limped along at a snail’s pace before reaching the still-playing band. There is way too much to do here in a mere day.

A candle lit table at Shields Tavern in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

We are sitting down in Shields Tavern for a candle-lit dinner in another historic setting, with staff donning clothing from colonial times.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at Shields Tavern in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

While the food is decent, it is the ambiance and the entertainment that has us wishing that we, too, were dressing for the occasion and not wearing casual 21st-century clothing. Make reservations early for the Taverns, as you could have quite the long wait if you were so daring as to try to get a table at the last minute. After dinner, it was time for an organ concert at Bruton Parish Church, which we thoroughly enjoyed. While the church is located in the middle of Colonial Williamsburg, it is not actually part of it, and anybody can attend services or concerts in this historic church, which was built in 1715, although the parish history dates back to 1660.

Playing Shut the Box game at Chowning's Tavern in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia

Not wanting the day to end after the concert we step into Chowning’s Tavern for some drinks and games. Hot tea all around, we know how to party – not. On a nearby table, some folks are playing a game. We watch, and then the girls grab one as it becomes free. A member of the bar staff is snagged and asked how this works, and in moments, Caroline and Jessica are playing Shut the Box. The game, also known as Canoga and Klackers, originates from at least the 12th century. We sipped our teas, listened to the live music, played more Shut the Box, and with eyes growing ever heavier, we called it a night and walked back to our hotel.

DelMarVa Peninsula

Caroline Wise catching the big one with Jessica Aldridge on the hook at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, Maryland

Caroline and I went fishing, and she hooked the damned ugliest fish I’ve ever seen. I swear, as that thing jumped out of the water, it was screaming, “Hey, I’m your long-lost daughter; take me home with you!” Stupid me kissed it, remembering the princess-and-frog story and thinking there might be an element of truth to this fish’s story, and instead, all I got was this cold, wet fish mouth of a kiss that smelled, well, like fish. Sure, I, too, was thinking, well, if this is my daughter, what am I doing kissing it on the mouth? Sorry, but there’s no explaining this one. Fairy tales coming true were not in the cards today, only a case for Sigmund Freud to try figuring out.

Jessica Aldridge the killer crab about to pop the head off innocent tourist John Wise at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, Maryland

Back on terra firma, I think the nightmare is over when, as I’m innocently walking down the street here in St. Michaels, Maryland, a killer crab scuttles toward me (sideways, of course) and soon has me in its claws ready to pop my head off. Oh My God, this even-uglier-than-the-fish crab garbles with a sinister crab voice, “I’m your daughter, big daddy; come on now, give me a big kiss so I can turn back into your loving daughter!” Just about then, Caroline came to my rescue and, with deft agility, tossed this sea monster into a pot of boiling water. I kept my head and, with a ramekin of drawn butter, sat down to enjoy a lunch of ugly crab.

Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, Maryland

While we didn’t get to visit an open Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum, as we were too early for that kind of stuff, we did have fun with the photo antics, so there was that.

Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum in St. Michaels, Maryland

And there was this great blue heron that attracted our admiration, as they always do.

Driving south near the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland

We are driving south over the DelMarVa (Delaware, Maryland, Virginia) peninsula and will be taking our time about it.

Cattails at water's edge at the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge in Maryland

Sorry to disappoint you if you were looking for an incarnation of my daughter materializing in a cattail, but this story isn’t quite that absurd – seriously. This is just a plain old common cattail photographed at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge in Maryland.

A pond at the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge in Maryland

It’s difficult to comprehend just how big the Chesapeake Bay is as it collects the waters of more than 150 rivers and streams from six states that feed the bay. As the biggest estuary in the United States, it makes sense that its size should be incomprehensible.

Bald eagle at the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge in Maryland

I know that this is not a great or even good photo, but it’s of a bald eagle. For those of us who live in deserts, seeing eagles is not a very common sight, so I have to leave this reminder here that we saw eagles while we were here.

Cranes at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge in Maryland

The skies are gray, overcast, and dreary, but even with the pallor overhead, we are enjoying the bird watching. We spot cormorants, hawks, buzzards, a dozen small varieties of birds (no bird guide with us), and a lot of cranes. We linger a while, hoping for a break in the sky; we wait on eagles, hoping to see them launch from their perch on high, but under these placid conditions, the scene is a meditative one, inviting us to take a nap in the car within the wetlands we are touring. Sleep will have to wait, though; we have a destination in mind.

Buzzard at Blackwater Wildlife Refuge in Maryland

That buzzard is throwing us some stinkeye as we interrupt its delightful meal of rotting meat on the bone with a side of fur. Before it threw its attention on plucking out our tongues, we moved along.

Oops, I didn’t realize I was shooting this with a shallow depth of field, so maybe you can’t make out the sign behind Caroline and Jessica, but we’ve just entered Virginia.

Some things never seem to change much, and Susan’s Seafood here in New Church, Virginia, is one of those places. Not that we’ve ever been inside this establishment, but nine years ago, when Caroline and I were on our first cross-country road trip, we traveled this exact path, and between this photo and the one just above, you’ll see we are at the same two locations on that trip. Click here to see the old blog post.

Free-range pig?

The shell of this ruin suggests that this was at one time an incredibly beautiful home, at least in my purview. Why it was allowed to fall into disrepair is anyone’s guess, but if I were to venture to offer my 2 cents, it likely would have been due to economic reasons as we are too far off the beaten path, and small farmers are an archaic relic of the past.

I believe we were approaching the bottom of the peninsula at this time, but details are lost.

It sure is flat out here.

The crop that defined a large part of the southeastern United States and a snow-white blemish on our history: cotton.

Jessica Aldridge roadside on the Chesapeake Bay bridge and tunnel in Virginia

Here we are, thinking the third time will be the charm; hmmm, what is it about this Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel that Caroline and I are here either in the dark or on cloudy days? And why didn’t the engineers of this man-made phenomenon known as one of the seven engineering wonders of the modern world not build more pullouts for us tourists who want to stop and take crummy pictures of a bridge under gray skies? I did manage to get this one nice photo of Jessica at one of the two pullouts on this 20-mile-long four-lane bridge and tunnel highway crossing the lower Chesapeake Bay.

Caroline Wise at Christina Campell's Tavern in Williamsburg, Virginia

It’s almost evening as we arrive in Colonial Williamsburg, Virginia. After checking into the Woodlands Hotel we take aim for the historic district for our reservations at Christina Campell’s Tavern, where we’ll be dining.

Christina Campell's Tavern in Williamsburg, Virginia

There’s such great attention to detail for keeping things as authentic as possible. Hopefully, Williamsburg is never thrown to corporate profit monsters who will reduce this experience into the horror of money above all.

Jessica Aldridge at Christina Campell's Tavern in Williamsburg, Virginia

It’s kind of strange that my daughter has been living out here on the eastern seaboard and has never visited this part of the world.

A gentleman in period costume at Christina Campell's Tavern in Williamsburg, Virginia playing a recorder

The highlight of the evening was the entertainment provided by the gentleman above, who sang a wonderful song titled “Bold William Taylor” while he played his guitar. I do know the difference between a guitar and a tin whistle, but I didn’t have a nice photo of him playing the guitar, so you get this photo of him playing a tin whistle. Caroline really liked his particular rendition, but this version on YouTube comes pretty close (and has bagpipes).

Tilghman Island Maryland

Flying over the middle of America

Caroline and I landed late in the afternoon at the Baltimore airport, my daughter Jessica arriving a couple of hours earlier. It took another half hour for the three of us to find one another; admittedly, cell phones would have come in handy here.

Tilghman Island, Maryland

Across the Chesapeake Bay, we check into our hotel in St. Michaels and then take a night drive out to Tilghman Island.

Tilghman Island draw bridge in Maryland at night

Back in May, my mother-in-law Jutta and I were here and went sailing on the Lady Patty with Cpt. Chris Richards and his first mate Helen – we had a blast. Tomorrow, just before daybreak, Caroline, Jessica, and I are scheduled to go sailing aboard the Lady Patty for a sunrise tour on the Chesapeake. At 6:15 a.m., our host Cpt. Chris arrives with the bad news that Helen has been injured and that he must cancel our trip due to the emergency situation. Sadly, this will have been the last time we will ever see Cpt. Chris because six days later, on October 1st, he was involved in a tree-felling accident with injuries that would take his life. To see a photo of Cpt. Chris, Helen, and my mother-in-law, click here,

Jessica Aldridge on Tilghman Island, Maryland

A dark night on Tilghman Island, where lives were making changes and taking turns.

Sonu Nigam

Sonu Nigam performing at the Phoenix Symphony Hall in Phoenix, Arizona on August 15, 2009

This is Sonu Nigam who performed at the Phoenix Symphony Hall this evening – for nearly 4 hours. Sonu is from India, works in Bollywood, and is what is known as a playback singer. Caroline and I had fantastic seats for the show, near the center in the 16th row. As he took the stage he opened with a song from Kal Ho Na Ho and went into another popular song, this one from Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham. That set the stage as we swooned to the romance of two of our favorite mushy love songs. Sonu’s songs have graced some of my favorite Bollywood films such as The Legend of Bhagat Singh, Dil Chata Hai, Main Hoon Na, and Om Shanti Om. Sadly we missed Asha Bhosle on her tour to Phoenix last year but we did get to watch Alka Yagnik and Kavita Krishnamurthy during their tours of America in years past. Now if Andy Lau would come to Phoenix for a concert!

And One is Vulgar

Man at local Phoenix area restaurant with flipped middle finger tattoo on the back of his head

Forget the New World Order, welcome to your New American Civility. Rebellion by college youth has given way to consumption conformity. Rebellion by intellectual elites who foment revolution to throw off usurpers of civil liberties was abandoned by wealth-induced comfort. Rebellion against our parents was replaced by iPhones, a new Xbox, rides to school and soccer practice by parents pushed to paranoia that their children may not have the confidence to be sufficiently arrogantly snobbish – one of the requirements for self-righteous future business leaders. Rebellion has devolved to the level of knuckle scraping Neanderthals, sitting comfortably in corporate restaurants with families of working people, displaying their disdain for all that is normal.

What kind of evolutionary non-sense has unfolded upon our species or are the creationists right? I thought as teens we threw off the shackles of our parent’s outdated modes of archaic survival only to join the masses with a new set of self-imposed shackles shortly afterward. In the years we are supposed to be building our base of knowledge for a path towards wisdom we are replacing it with knuckle tattoos, name-calling, adult obsessions with television shows where pain is self-inflicted, dancing celebrities, or other contrivances hyped by fellow human beings. Today at lunch, sitting at the table next to ours was this guy,  whose back of his bald head was giving me the finger. I suppose this was cool in jail and let the rivals to his criminal tribe know he is a badass who without fear can flip the bird to anyone’s child, grandmother, or international visitor in any public space,  that he could partake his fill of liberty and then add a t-shirt to his cranial billboard announcing that he is not happy enough to visually curse you but would like to announce that the death of others is somehow an admirable quality that makes this guy just cool for being so bald, tall, bikerish, menacing, and in your face. Take that you people eating lunch at Cracker Barrel as I spit vulgarity in your general direction!

Cumbres & Toltec Steam Train

Guilt and delight as the old steam engine belches thick black coal smoke, getting ready to take us into a countryside we’ve never seen. On one hand, to satisfy our sense of the aesthetic, we are shooting this raw, unfiltered black soot into the atmosphere, but then again, this is the easily visualized pollution that pales in comparison to the billions of tons created by human activity. Not that I want to excuse it, but yeah, I guess I want to do just that.

We are hanging out at Chama station as the train yard returns to life, and we wait until we are ready to depart. The initial part of this journey doesn’t begin with a train ride, though. For some, it will, but not for us. We will be boarding a bus this morning for the drive to Antonito, Colorado, where we’ll be catching the train going south.

Moving across rugged terrain by steam locomotive is not a quick means to an end. Nor should it be when you consider we are here for the scenic element as much as the historic sense of nostalgia that comes with riding an old-fashioned train that was built back in 1925.

While waiting for our coach to take us north, we were invited to become acquainted with the engines and were not going to be shy about that. Who knew that this might be foreshadowing an event yet to happen in the future?

I’ll explain that last statement, as I’m not sure how the reader got to this post. I have to explain that I’m writing this post on August 10th, 2022, because back in 2009, when we were out here, I never got around to blogging a thing about this long 4th of July weekend. So, the foreshadowing is my allusion to what is penciled into our itinerary for 2023 travels. Late summer of 2023 we should both be aboard an antique K-36 Baldwin locomotive shoveling coal and pulling the throttle as we join the Cumbres & Toltec Fireman & Engineer school program. My fingers are crossed.

Here we are in Antonito, Colorado, about to board the train that will bring us back to Chama.

And off we go into the Wild West.

It’s barely more than six miles to the New Mexican state border, with 58 miles still ahead of us, though we’ll pass between the states a couple more times.

We’ll be out here away from it all for over six hours, not a bad way to spend a day.

Maybe the most difficult part of this ride into history is trying to find a sense of mind allowing us to glimpse the world as it might have been seen by people traveling these rails after 1880 when they were first laid down.

There’s a reason behind the naming of this route and the first part comes from Cumbres Pass, which we’ll cross at 10,015 feet of elevation (3,053 meters), and the Toltec Gorge, which is 600 feet deep.

How do we so frequently find the good fortune to have the perfect weather when out exploring our world?

Along parts of our route, there are forest roads that parallel the track.

If your goal is to get 60 miles down the road as quickly as possible, this method of travel is certainly not the most expedient, but if time allows, I believe it is the greatest way to travel. No billboards, no franchises hawking their uniformity, no chance of another train veering into your lane, just the slow journey into a rarely seen corner of America.

Sadly, there’s no way to make this into a multi-day holiday in the United States because we have so few scenic rail lines in our country. Sure, there are short lines here and there, but if a traveler were to want to embark on a 10-day cross-country trek not shared with busy freight lines and unreliable service through efficient corridors of travel instead of the most beautiful, that’s not going to happen.

We’re passing through the Toltec Gorge back in New Mexico, which is drawing passengers from their comfy seats out to the open-air cars. Six hundred feet below is the Rio De Los Pinos.

Having made this trip and documenting it is allowing me years later to linger in the memory of it all, and if I want to romanticize the magnitude of what it was, I have this luxury. Whatever the cost was, the effort required to drive the over 500 miles to northern New Mexico and then back home, the quality of the meals found here and there, none of that matters anymore as the images I’ve carried with me all show me a perfect day where everything must have been perfect.

I believe we just passed back into Colorado and that we are looking at Forest Road 74, which originates in New Mexico on the left, with Colorado FDR 103 on the right.

Osier Station in Colorado is up at 9,626 feet of elevation (2,934 meters) and was our lunch stop.

Starting our push to climb over the Cumbres Pass.

Heading for the home stretch.

Yeah, I could do this for weeks.

And so, as with all good things, this too has to draw to an end.

Oh no, not a bitter end!? Caroline is experiencing a small letdown with this failed attempt to visit Tierra Wools in Chama, New Mexico.

We won’t make it home today, won’t even try as with 9 hours of driving ahead of us, that would be foolish. We did stop in Albuquerque, though, as we knew we’d be able to collect an incredible meal at Sadie’s Mexican Restaurant for dinner; they were open and did not disappoint.

Stayed at the Southwest Motel in Grants, New Mexico, which would put us only about 340 miles from Phoenix. This is important because on the next day, July 6th, there’s not a single photo, and that can only mean one thing: we drove directly to Caroline’s office, and she went to work. You see, we are all about maximizing the use of vacation days, and with Arizona ahead of New Mexico regarding the clock, if we’d left early enough, we could have had Caroline sitting down at her desk shortly after 9:00 a.m. thus saving a day for the next trip that was only 80 days away.