Covid-19 – peregrinations

Douthat State Park, VA

On Sunday August 9, everyone scattered to the four winds. Most of our group went home, but Jack and I headed to our final encampment for this Travel in the Time of Plague adventure: Douthat State Park near Clifton Forge, VA (actual address = Millboro, VA).

We’ve been to Douthat many times in the past (click HERE for a bit about our fall 2016 stay), but never stayed at this particular campground (they have 3 for RVs and one for horse campers: Whispering Pines, Lakeside—currently under construction/renovation—and White Oak; and the equestrian one is called Beaver Dam).

SinceDouthat is not far from Sherando Lake, we took a leisurely pace and arrived at 1PM, which is the time park officials expect the departures to be accomplished. This is good news, because our loop, White Oak, is reservable but unassigned. So we had leisure to drive around and look at the options, which at that time, were many.

We liked the looks of both #19 and #12. Nineteen was high on the hillside and closer to the bath house, but 12 was deep and had a great “back yard” off the bumper-end of the trailer, with lots of hammock trees and shade. When we began the “move-in” there was “closed” tape across the two sites “below” us, and signs on the posts that said they were not available.

In general, there is little visual separation between the camping pads, and leveling is a variable challenge. But the physical spacing between sites is decent, and since it’s on a wooded mountainside, it is a very nice campground, indeed. There is a dishwashing station and a large, well-maintained bath house, and everyone was wearing masks when inside.

We scootched Roomba toward the front to ease the leveling challenge, and it would have been a perfect spot to erect a “utility side” awning if we’d been able to get the keder rail attached to our off-side roofline, had we been able to get to Safari Condo for our service appointment in Canada earlier this trip. Two awnings on our trailer would give us what I call, “The Flying Nun Effect.” Maybe next year.

Before we’d finished set-up, however, a Ranger came by and removed the tape from #11. When Jack asked what was up, he noted a dead tree between the two “closed” sites, and lamented they’d been intending to cut it down for months, but when they had the weather they didn’t have the staff, but when they had the staff, the weather was bad. He went on to say that demand dictated they open both sites back up, since the “danger” the tree posed was slim, and they needed the spaces.

So we lost one of the great features for which we’d chosen #12, but it wasn’t too bad as the “beige box” that moved in was an elderly couple with their daughter and granddaughter. They spent most of their time over at the park’s beach. Still, with our trailer at the “front” of the site, we didn’t spend much time lounging under our awning due to the other trailer’s proximity. Which was fine, because we spend a lot of time in our shady “back yard.”

I set up the Dutch oven cooking paraphernalia in prep for another zucchini & tomato bake, and Jack grilled a slab of salmon on a plank we’d picked up before leaving Stuart’s Draft en route. GnTs accompanied our meal prep, even though the day’s been cool—in the low 70s mostly.

Monday, August 10: The cool temps departed early as the sun rose. Of course, we hit the road to head to Covington to take a bike ride. This time, we hit the Jackson River Rail Trail, a fairly new RR bed conversion running a bit over 13.5 miles.

We’d last ridden this trail last fall with Roanoke cycling friends, Bill and Ann. Even though most rail-trail conversions slope gently higher as you head upriver (and of course, the opposite heading downriver) the Jackson River Tr. has about as much up and down no matter which way you head.

While there are several trail head/parking areas (including one called “Petticoat Junction” quaintly enough), we recommend beginning not in Covington proper, but at the Intervale Park trail head, where there is a water fountain, comfort station, and sometimes (depending on the weather and Covid) a healthy snack kiosk/food truck. Our understanding is that the part of the trail accessed from town includes some unpleasant urban riding.

While there are other parking/starting points that will lessen the total ride length, there is none at the end of the trail. The end, however, is quite nice with a couple of picnic tables—a great place to have a snack or lunch.

Here’s some info about the river, and for photos & maps of the scenic multi-use trail itself, visit HERE.

The Jackson River is a major tributary of the James River in Virginia, covering a total of 96.4 miles.The James River is formed by the confluence of the Jackson River and the Cowpasture River.

The River rises in Highland Co., near the border of West Virginia, and flows south between Back Creek Mountain and Jack Mountain. It is impounded by Gathright Dam in Alleghany Co. to create Lake Moomaw. Above the lake, the Jackson is an excellent smallmouth bass, rock bass, rainbow trout, and brown trout fishery. Below Gathright Dam, six public areas provide access to 18 miles of legally navigable water to Covington. Wild rainbow trout, wild brown trout, smallmouth bass, rock bass (redeye), and redbreast sunfish populate the tailwater below the dam. Both areas are popular with fly fisherpeople.

Below the dam, Jackson River flows south and then east through Alleghany Co., and then through the city of Covington and the town of Clifton Forge before it joins the Cowpasture to create the James.

It was a hot day, but a very nice ride. Below you’ll see a combination of photos from our fall ride back in September, as well as pix from this ride. One notable photo that I’d hoped to recapture this time was a fence line sporting bicycles (first photo below). Behind the fence was an army of yapping terriers, who created quite a din when I stopped to take the original photo in September. This time, all the decorative bikes were gone—very likely due to the probable fact that, when riders stopped (as I had) to photograph the fence, the dogs made it unbearable for the house’s occupants.

Jack really cranked the pedals on the return while I stopped to take a few photos along the way. His average MPH reading was very very close to 13 for the 27-ish miles—mine was closer to 12.

Bike Stats: 27.8 miles; 2:10 ride time; 26 minutes stopped time; 12.7 average MPH.

We ate a very “meh” lunch at Taco Bell in Covington and headed back to futz and lounge in hammocks at camp. At dinner time, I re-heated the zucchini bake & leftover rice, and Jack grilled a tasty pork loin with Cajun seasonings. Yum.

Tuesday, August 11 dawned even hotter than the previous day (mid-80s by mid-morning—we ended up running the AC the entire time we were at Douthat). Because the ‘morrow was forecast to be overcast, humid, and rainy, we planned a return to the Jackson River Trail, since we had discussed heading to the Greenbriar Trail in West Virginia, but decided it was really too far to go for a bike ride.

With every intention of riding, we got side-tracked when we saw the signs to Lake Moomaw Recreation Area—we thought there might be some cycling to be done up there (see Jackson River Trail Map above).

Moomaw is a very LONG lake, dammed by the Gathright Dam, run by the Corps of Engineers. The land originally belonged to Thomas Gathright, a conservationist. He stocked his land with grouse, bear, deer, turkey, and fish, having acquired land for a game preserve stretching over 17 miles along the Jackson River, which he liked to call, “The most beautiful river in the world.”

Lake Moomaw was named after Benjamin Moomaw, another conservationist who played a large role in the Virginia Community College system, and was known for his interest in local folklore. With the efforts of Gathright and Moomaw, the lake was completed in the early 1980s.

We (of course) were most interested in the camping opportunities noted on the map, so we drove around to check them out. Our first drive-through was to the McClintic Point campground, which was decrepit and dicey, and the only 2 groups we saw there appeared sketchy. We guessed this camping area was mostly used by hunters with permission to hunt the National Forest in season.

But the other 5 we saw had real possibilities for future get-aways—they all had bath houses, dump stations, and if not on-site water, had spigots appropriately placed throughout the camping area. All had a mix of electric and non-electric sites. In the Bolar Mountain Rec. Area (see map detail below) the Sugar Ridge CG looked to be the most promising, with nice separation between sites. It was quite full, in the height of water-sports season. Campgrounds 1, 2, and 3 are all worth a look, and some of the sites are marked “premium” because they are waterfront.

The lake is substantial with miles of shoreline, at least one boat marina, several boat ramps & canoe/kayak inputs, and a couple of swimming beaches. Picnic areas accompany all of the beaches, and we ate our packed lunch at a table under trees near a beach with a comfort station. There is plenty of water for separation between the motorized craft and the paddle/oar craft, with lots of calm fingers of water reaching into the solid, mountainous geography surrounding the lake.

We found Gathright Dam (where the sheer amount of concrete made it VERY HOT), which is impressively high, with lovely downstream tailwaters, in which we could see several fly fishermen plying their skills.

The dam is 1,310 feet long and rises 257 ft. above Jackson River’s bed. One of the primary reasons for its construction was to protect Covington and downstream communities along the Jackson and the James from flooding. But in addition, the dam helps with water quality control and offers many recreational opportunities for residents and visitors.

Near the dam is Cole’s Point, with two campgrounds, called Morris Hill.

At one of these, we were driving through a loop and saw a baby bear snuffling around the fire pit in a camping family’s site (while they were away at the beach, presumably). It was quite small, so I’m certain it’s momma was nearby, but we did not see her. It thought to flee when we stopped for pictures, but changed its mind and kept testing the air for delicious things. We feared it would begin to ransack the family’s carefully-stowed belongings, but its interest was primarily in the aromas it discovered at the fire pit. We watched it for quite a while.

When we got back to Douthat, we drove around the campground trying to find a good viewing point from which to see the Persied Meteor Shower, which was predicted (as usual) to be “the best in years—hundreds of meteors per minute.” The best viewing was forecast to be between 2 and 4 AM, and we scoped out a dock on the shore of Douthat Lake, or possibly the dam of the lake for viewing, and we dutifully set an alarm for the show.

On Wednesday, August 12 we slept in—when the alarm went off in the wee hours, we dressed and went outside only to find thick, high overcast. The moon was visible as a diffuse glow and I could see one star at first, but then it disappeared. So instead of mounting a watch expedition, we hit the sheets again. But neither of us could really get back to sleep.

When we finally arose, we had cinnamon buns to kickstart our last day on the road. The day was again humid but not quite so hot—we decided to drive into Clifton Forge with the hope of a cell signal to chat with our house sitters about our arrival. We only left a message, however, as they were likely out enjoying their final day of mountain golf at one of the local courses.

Via prior arrangements, we knew they’d be gone by the time we arrived home. And when we heard from them during our homeward drive, they promised a casserole we could re-heat for our dinner, and assured us that all was well with dogs, falcon, and house.

We took our time during the day to pack and stow what could be accomplished early, and had a “last supper” of grilled hamburgers & zucchini, and hashbrowns.

I added up the mileage we’d cycled during this trip and the sum was an impressive 630 miles.

We got away the next morning around 9:30, and it was an uneventful drive, landing us at home midday. Mischief and Chase were very happy to see us. Flash the falcon—not so much. We would have thrown the ball for Mischief, but every single one we’d left for her had disappeared in the terribly high grass (or maybe she’d buried them—who could say?).

Got the majority of the trailer emptied before it began raining, and just left it hooked up at the top of the driveway for the night.

Thus ended our Trip in the Time of Plague. We both still felt healthy and fit, and of two minds about being home—the grass and other chores we faced on the downside, but the familiarity and comfort of being in our own personal space on the upside.

Here’s to our next adventure, with hope that Covid-19 might have abated significantly by then. Until then, keep safe and smart.

Pine Grove Furnace, PA

We departed for our next great travel adventure on June 14, headed to Pine Grove Furnace State Park in Pennsylvania. We waved goodbye to our housesitters, gave the pups a final scratch behind their ears, and got away around 9:30 AM. The early departure allowed us to roll into camp around 4 PM, including stops for lunch etc.

Traveling heavy, we packed some extra stuff and equipment on this trip to adapt to Camping in the Time of Pandemic—trying to minimize grocery shopping in strange towns, we carried a lot of freeze-dried “hiking” food packets. There were also campgrounds along our anticipated itinerary that only accept campers who are “self-contained,” meaning the bathhouses were closed to limit transmission of Covid-19 (and the attendant cleansing requirements that common sense and visitor safety required).

So we also carried on board a new, freestanding camping toilet (although our Alto has a toilet on board, we use that cabinet for food storage—it is what we call our “pantry”) and we experimented prior to departure with converting our screened shelter into a private bathhouse, to be set up at the utility side of our trailer where the exterior shower access is.

We also packed in lots of hand sanitizer, extra paper goods, and disinfecting wipes for use when the campground bathhouses were actually open. And face masks, of course.

So we arrived at our good old friend, Pine Grove Furnace State Park, at which we’ve stayed several times in the past. For more about the campground and state park, see the prior post about it that you can access here.

Our site this time at their Charcoal Hearth Campground was #48, the first in the “no dogs” section, and John and Mary—our companions from home who will be sharing this adventure for the first 10-ish days—had the last “pets allowed” site so they could accommodate the canine member of the family, Riley. All of the sites at this campground lack water, so there are potable water spigots scattered around, and we stopped at one to fill our water tank. We did have electricity, although there are some sites without, and others without that are designated tent only. Each of the two loops of the campground has its own bathhouse.

Our bathhouse there was open and very well cared for by the staff—clean and tidy, and with a scheduled “deep clean” on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, when they closed down for a few hours. Masks were required in the bathhouses, the camp store, and the ranger’s office. Although we did not get into the Appalachian Trail Museum this time (a very neat visit) they were also open on a limited schedule and face masks were required inside. They also limited visitors because it is a rather small space.

We took a bicycle ride down to the actual charcoal furnaces, and read the storyboards about the process, and the AT follows part of an old rail bed that carried the charcoal from the furnaces to points of sale in PA back in the day. Now the rail bed is a “hiker biker trail” and goes from the furnaces to the smaller of the two recreational lakes, called Fuller Lake, then along a paved road (with little vehicular traffic) to the larger of the State Park’s two lakes, Laurel Lake.

The route we took, to Laurel Lake’s dam, was about 5 miles one way, and upon our return we went to the camp store to have an ice cream. There, we were harassed a bit by a couple of yahoos sitting in their car in the parking lot, smoking stinky cigarettes. They were “talking between themselves” but loudly enough for us to hear that they were dissing us for wearing masks. They also commented on what they assumed was our political bent, our level of fear for a virus that they believed did not exist, and how their governor had spooked the residents of the Commonwealth about the danger by shutting everything down and only opening businesses back up slowly and carefully. We ignored them until they drove away, taking their cigarette smoke with them (but leaving their trash on the ground next to where they’d parked).

The next day (June 16) we trundled with our bikes out to Gettysburg, and unfortunately, found the visitor center closed. To really grasp the enormity of the Civil War battle that took place there, and to appreciate all the monuments to those involved, one really must see the diorama of the battlefield that is the center point of the visitor center experience.

But we rode along a part of the battleground Jack and I had not seen before, with the hope of riding through the cemetery, but bicycles are not allowed in the cemetery. Also of note is that the map of the battleground used for the “auto tour” or the self-guided tour is not even remotely accurate. We got turned around a few times because the distances indicated were never to scale, and many of the roads on the map were unnamed.

Also, a problem was the scarcity of open restrooms and comfort stops available due to the pandemic.

But it was a beautiful day and we noted that places like Gettysburg and other Civil War battlefields are the exactly appropriate spots for the statues to both northern and southern players in that long-ago conflict—as opposed to those Confederate statues of the Jim Crow era that have been erected in the public squares of 9/10ths of the southern towns in the United States. Just sayin’.

Since the battlefield is in PA; since every state involved in the battle sent monuments to their lost sons; and since PA sent 34,000+ soldiers to the battle, the PA monument is understandably impressive. Each of the brass plaques holds many, many names, and the brass plaques are everywhere in and on the monument. Jack was looking for some of his family names among those listed, but did not find any, even though he knows some of his ancestors fought in the war.

As we’d done in the past (and since the town of Gettysburg is right in the middle of the historic area) we had lunch at the Lincoln Diner, right near the rail station at which President Lincoln arrived in Gettysburg to deliver his famous address. The diner had a large back room in which we were able to be appropriately distanced from one another and others, and the wait staff were all wearing masks.

In the end, Jack and I cycled longer than John and Mary, who wanted to stroll around the historic town a while after lunch, and we clocked almost 15 miles that day, climbing Little Round Top and Big Round Top mountains, as we’d done last time we cycled the battlefield.

On our third and final full day at Pine Grover Furnace State Park, John and Mary stayed local to hike with Riley along some of the many beautiful hiking trails at the SP, while Jack and I drove to Newville (about 15 miles away) to embark on another repeat cycling experience for us, the Cumberland Valley rail trail.

ExplainsALot0622Web — The Durfs home, across from the Trail Head in Newville, explains a lot.

On our last visit, the total length of the trail was in the neighborhood of 20 miles. Plans for extensions on both ends were mapped, but at the time, the plan was in its infancy.

This time, we noted both ends of the trail had been lengthened, and so we were able to cycle from the Newville Trail Head all the way south to Shippensburg proper, past Shippensburg College, to the new Trail Head and rail depot, where we took a Kind bar break and admired the sculptures and the beautiful day.

We really worked the pedals heading back to Newville’s Trail Head, where the newly-paved section right at the picnic area/Trail Head was still cordoned off for reasons not at all obvious to us. But as we’d done on start toward Shippensburg, we rode along the grass as instructed by the signs, and bypassed the newly-paved Trail Head section to see how far the extension to the north went.

What we found was a shorter but still significant extension, although the scenery was not anything to shout about, as it ran along a high-tension electric wire easement, and had no shade at all. At the end, we got to a sign (see pic below) that we thought was amusing, in that the “exit ramp” was a grassy downslope.

In all, we made 25+ miles at a very good pace (11.91 mph) for our third time out on the bikes since we rode our local, New River Trail on May 3—weather, Blue Ridge Parkway construction, and home-bound chores preventing any kind of a head start on the cycling season back home.

On Thursday, June 18, we packed up and drove ~6 hours (again, with stops) to Glibert Lake State Park in New York.

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