11.2 Route 29 Revisited

By coincidence, I continued my exploration of Virginia on the Monday after Halloween by driving down Route 29 almost from the Potomac River to Danville, just 3 miles north of the Virginia/North Carolina border.

Technically, I wasn’t near the fall line, which south of DC runs 50 to 100 miles east of 29, roughly parallel with US 95. Route 29 takes a more southwesterly track. Between DC and Charlottesville, the route is wide open, with gently rolling hills and farms (many now turned into commercial and residential developments) on both sides. The peakettes (“peaks” seems too grandiose) of the Blue Ridge are visible ten or fifteen miles to the west. The trees had noticeably more leaves than around DC.

Route 29 does have a water connection. South of Charlottesville, Route 29 is like a roller coaster, going up and down between follows the old Indian trails that paralleled the eastern edge of the Blue Ridge Mountains. You can see from a topo map that Route 29 practically “spoons” the eastern folds of the Blue Ridge highland. At several points, it crosses rivers where the water flows out of the highland into the still hilly but less steep Piedmont region. At these crossings, the power of the water led to the development of towns, just as the need to shift goods from one form of transportation to another led to the development of towns along the fall line. The biggest of those towns is Lynchburg, the home of Jerry Fallwell and Liberty University.

During my time in Danville, I did some quick research on my phone. It turns out Danville was a Southern rail center in the Civil War, and the Danville & Richmond Railroad was the key supply line for the Confederate capital throughout the war. For a few days after the Union’s capture of Richmond and Lee’s surrender at Appomattox, Danville was the last capital of the Confederacy. Now, it is a down on its luck former mill town with a lot of retirees from “up north.”

For me, all of this matters less than the fact that the D&R was the “Danville train” in the classic Band song “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down.” And that the “Stoneman” whose cavalry is bemoaned in the song was a real Union general who later became governor of California. So Levon Helm’s lyrics were rooted in history. My hat’s off to him for creating a masterpiece.

A Marylander Crosses to Virginia

Mary and I continued our exploration of the Potomac fall line on Halloween. This time we crossed the river to Great Falls Park in Virginia. I’ve lived in the DC area most of my life, but I’d never been to the Virginia side of the falls. It was a revelation.

We hoped to find the trees at the peak of their color. No such luck. The winds in last week’s storms blew half the leaves off the trees. Those left were basic muddy brown/yellows – or muted shades of mustard, ochre and russet if you’re feeling poetic. There were no brilliant yellows or reds like you see in New England.

From the VA side, there is a much better view of Mather Gorge, where the Potomac narrows and cuts through the Appalachian Piedmont into the Atlantic coastal plain. The cliffs are higher and more vertical on the VA side, which is why rock climbers are common. A tall wooden pole (see photo) shows the high water mark for numerous damaging floods over the last century. My first reaction was surprise, because the markers are eighty or a hundred feet above the river level. A nearby plaque provided the explanation: the volume of water in the river at flood stage is so great that it can’t fit through the narrow gorge. The water backs up and spreads out at the head of the gorge, like a funnel that fills too fast and overflows.

Sunday the river level was low and several families had climbed down the cliff to scamper on the rocks at the downstream end of the falls. The current below those rocks was still fast and swirling. A single misstep and any of the kids (or their parents) would have fallen in and been swept downstream. No wonder so many people drown in the Potomac around Great Falls every year. What were the parents thinking?

The highlight of the trip was exploring the Great Falls stretch of the abandoned Patowmack Canal. This was George Washington’s pet project and actually pre-dated the C&O Canal on the Maryland side. I’ve seen many canals and locks in my time, but none nearly as steep as the last three locks on the Patowmack. They rise perhaps 70 feet in a distance of no more than a couple hundred yards. The builders used black powder to enlarge a natural cleft in the cliff. It’s an impressive achievement by any measure. I just wonder how practical it was. The locks only fit one boat, and must have taken a long time to traverse that last few hundred yards.