Encircling Richmond and Sleeping With Patrick Henry

Miles Today 38.5; This Section 107.5 (5 days); Trans-Am Miles 949.6 (28 days)

We drove back to Grapevine Road, our quitting spot in the rain 2 days ago. We got going about 11 AM. It was a beautiful day. Three days ago on Route 5 we were south and east of Richmond, two days ago we were east of Richmond going due north, and now we are curving west on the north side of Richmond. We’ve done a better job of encircling Richmond than Stonewall Jackson did in the civil war! We are now going past the Richmond Battlefields and more of the Seven Days War that included Malvern Hill near the Willis Methodist Church. I read on one historic marker that General Hill said years after the war, “We thought it proper in those days to directly attack artillery positions and earthen entrenchments filled with troops. We were lavish with spilling of blood.”

We entered Ashland, VA, and rode up Central Avenue along 2 miles of railroad track that runs right through town. The stores are open for a mile on both sides of the tracks, and 50 trains per day come through. That’s about 2 trains per hour; however, we were lucky to see three trains during our 20 minutes ride through town. As I sat at the red light (the only one in town) a young mother named Kathryn (same name and spelling as my mother) carried her two-year-old son over to see my bicycle. They had driven 30 miles up from Richmond to the “Train Town” for Nathaniel to see the trains on Sunday afternoon. Apparently many little boys come to Ashland to see trains; I was pretty excited myself. But the TB said, “How the Hell can they stand all those trains!”

We left town and had about a half dozen quick turns onto county roads with 4-inch number signs and some with no numbers, just names. Our maps show numbers not names. For some reason the TB lingered behind, and I knew we were in trouble. I exited into the country and the road got down to about 10 feet wide and winding up and down into stream bottoms. There was a car rally going on and every 10 minutes a BMW Mini Cooper would come by with a man driving and a girl in the passenger seat with all types of electronic equipment and a clipboard. The road was very curvy and the cell phone wouldn’t work. After about 10 miles I knew that one of us was lost. I had some areas with a cell signal and called but got no answer. I could only hope he’d move to an area with a signal. Once the phone rang and I make a quick stop and answer only to hear the incessant “Can you hear me, can you hear me?” Finally I came to an area with a decent signal so I sat still and soon he called. Somehow he got back on route about 8 miles ahead at Scotchtown, the plantation of Patrick Henry, the first Governor of Virginia. Scotchtown is now an historical park and has a docent on duty everyday. The TB got permission of us to camp on the grounds so he stayed put and I pedaled on over.

About 4 miles from Scotchtown at an intersection in the boondocks, I heard a loud speaker ahead. I could see down the road ahead (not my route) a sign that said “Ashland Berry Farm.” I could see folks with pumpkins so I thought maybe they’d sell food. I pedaled on over and came to a large pumpkin festival at the Berry Farm. Folks were buying pumpkins, and flowers and taking hayrides. I parked the bike near the entrance and asked the ticket lady to watch the bike and “break anybody’s arm who touched it.” She said she would, and I had no doubts. I went in and bought a great hotdog ($2), a 16 oz. Spiced cider ($1), and 3 homemade cake donuts ($1). They said they’d be open later for a “spook night” so I decided to bring the TB back for dinner and rode on to Patrick Henry’s Place. As I rode I passed a house were the historic sign said General Jackson and his staff stopped in for water and when the woman of the house found out who she served she saved the water pitcher forever unused again.

I got to Scotchtown and met up with the TB just half an hour before sunset. We hurriedly set up our two tents and headed back by truck for his dinner at the Berry Farm. When we arrived at the Ashland Berry Farm it was dark and the place looked closed. I saw the lady bike guard. She said, “You came back.” When I suggested my partner was hungry she opened the food booth and he got a hotdog and spiced cider for free. There were about 50 workers milling about and we soon learned that “spook night” was a VERY big deal around here. One of the male workers was telling the others about his time in the penitentiary. One of the female workers walked off to the side and holding one nostril blew an ounce of snot into the bushes. Our benefactor said at least a thousand people would be here soon and pay $30 a head for the 3 “scares” awaiting them. There were two barns set up as haunted houses and then there was a hay ride half a mile to a trail in the woods where 28 different scare scenes were set up with monsters of every type, hangings, chain saw massacres, and run away vehicles headed at the hay riders!

When the TB had finished his hotdog we got up to leave and couldn’t get off the property. It was worse than Disney World with the parking lot full of at least 500 cars, several buses, and more than a thousand people in line. There were 5 police cars on duty and the traffic director said people came from Charlottesville (60 miles), Norfolk 90 miles, Richmond, and even Washington, DC (100 miles). This was going to be a $50,000 night at the old pumpkin patch. Unbelievable, and this went on for every weekend for a month before Halloween and for the 4 days in a row preceding Halloween.