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DAY 2 – Monday, March 15 (My Birthday)
START: Staunton, VA
END: Elkin, NC
MILEAGE: 274 miles

HIGHLIGHTS: Blue Ridge Parkway; Stone's Cafeteria; Carolina fog

The Blue Ridge Parkway was one result of Franklin Roosevelt’s “New Deal.”  The idea to build a road connecting Shenandoah National Park in Virginia and Great Smoky Mountains National Park in North Carolina was originally conceived in the 1920’s, but wasn’t implemented until 1935 out of a need to put people to work during the Depression. 

On the map, the BRP certainly looks like the shortest distance between these two points, but this isn’t a road to take if you’re in a hurry.  The speed limit never goes above 45m.p.h., and for good reason.  The road bends and curves, often quite sharply and without warning.  And really, this isn’t a road you’d want to go fast on anyway.  The parkway concentrates on scenery by avoiding towns and commercial areas.  Billboards and commercial traffic are also prohibited on of the Parkway.  What you’re left with are 469 miles of breathtaking views as well as dozens of roadside exhibits along the way.

Lauren and I got underway around 10:00am from Staunton after our free continental breakfast and were on the Parkway within a half hour.  We stuck in one of the CD’s I’d burned in preparation for the trip, which I’d labeled Bluegrass Nostalgia.  The first song on the CD was, fittingly enough, John Denver’s Country Roads.

“Almost Heaven… West Virginia…Blue Ridge Mountains…Shenandoah River…”

Several times Lauren and I would just start giggling to each other, “We’re on our road trip!”  We pulled off at the several turnouts to take pictures of the vistas – as well as to let Lauren pee.  Everybody we knew questioned the sanity of this trip.  “You’re going to make Lauren sit in a car all day while she’s seven months pregnant?”  They all apparently had the same notion in their heads of Lauren cramped in a car for fifteen hours a day while we drove.  They just couldn’t seem to grasp the fact that we would be stopping often, giving her plenty of opportunities to walk around, stretch her legs, and of course, pee.

We actually decided to start a “pee log” and put a tick mark down for every time we had to stop for no other reason than to let Lauren pee.  On this first day, she made us stop ten times.  And that doesn’t even include the times she peed while we were getting gas or eating.  Of course, since the Parkway doesn’t pass through any commercial areas (i.e. no places with bathrooms), Lauren had to do her business on the side of the road.  For these occasions, we kept a roll of toilet paper in the back next to a special Ziplock bag labeled, “DO NOT USE FOR FOOD.” Lauren got quite good at doing her business quickly and efficiently on the side of the road while I stood as lookout.  Our code word for “Car Approaching” was “TIPPYTOE!”  Pat yourself on the back if you got the Seinfeld reference. 

Among the exhibits we stopped at along the Parkway were the James River Kanawha Canal and Lock as well as Mabry Mill, the most photographed spot on the Parkway.  The mill is such a classic representation of quaint rural life that other states like Connecticut and Iowa have actually put it on their own postcards, claiming it for themselves.

Doing this trip in March had both good and bad implications.  The good thing was that the tourist season hadn’t started anywhere we went.  There weren’t mobs of annoying people or insane amounts of traffic.  The downside was that since the tourist season hadn’t started, many of the touristy places were still closed for the season.  There were a lot of exhibits along the BRP that, during peak season, would have had interactive demonstrations to go along with them.  In March, all we could do was look around and read the signs.  But that was just fine with us.

Lauren and I had packed a big box of food in the trunk that contained such staples as trail mix, Goldfish®, banana chips, Life® Cereal, granola bars, etc.  Those were just fine for snacking as we drove, but by mid-afternoon, we were ready for some real food.  The biggest commitment Lauren and I made on this trip was to avoid the interstates as much as possible.  On the heels of that commitment came another.  We would avoid major chain restaurants as well and instead, patronize as many local establishments as we could.  We pulled out a gift from Lauren’s brother Chris and his wife Susan: ROADFOOD by Jane and Michael Stern – “a coast-to-coast guide to 500 of the best barbecue joints, lobster shacks, ice cream parlors, highway diners and much more.” 

That’s how we found Stone’s Cafeteria in Christiansburg, Virginia.  We had to leave the Parkway and hop on the interstate for about ten miles or so to get there.  The word “cafeteria” certainly is an adequate term to describe Stone’s.  You start off by grabbing a tray, napkin and silverware, then head to the buffet counter where the day’s eats are sitting in warm pans behind glass.  You tell the woman behind the counter what you want and she scoops it onto your plate with a big metal spoon.   

We felt a lot like outsiders, unsure of ourselves as we tried to figure out how the process was supposed to work, where the trays and utensils were, and of course trying to figure out just how much each item was by the chalkboard hanging to the right of the food line.  It didn’t help that none of the pans were labeled, so we had to continually ask the lunch lady, er, Stone’s employee what everything was. 

But the slight embarrassment was worth it.  I ordered up some meatloaf with potatoes, squash and vegetables while Lauren opted for a hearty helping of barbequed pork.  This is what they mean when they talk about “home cookin’.”  And no road diner experience would be complete without a slice of homemade pie.  I had blueberry while Lauren had lemon meringue.  Almost heaven.

We made our way back to the Blue Ridge and continued south.  Our unrealistic goal had been to make it all the way to Blowing Rock, North Carolina by late afternoon.  By the time we stopped for lunch at Stone’s, we altered our goal to just make it into North Carolina by nightfall.  The sun had set by the time we crossed the state line and we began our descent to find a motel.

That’s when the thickest, most ridiculous fog that I have ever experienced rolled in.  I’ve driven in plenty of fog in my life.  Spring and fall mornings and nights in Maine are notorious for their fog.  But it only meant that you had to drive a little slower and put on your low beams for better visibility.  None of the usual techniques helped coming down through the fog in North Carolina.

I’m not exaggerating when I say I could only see about ten or so feet beyond the front of the car.  We had no idea which way the road bent more than that much in front of us.  Even the headlights of oncoming cars would seem to simply materialize out of the mist less than fifty feet ahead.  All I could do was lean forward, ride the brake and let the centerlines guide me.  Here and there, even the centerlines would disappear for a few dozen feet, leaving me to dead reckon by just the blacktop.  Of course right behind us, riding our butt was a pickup truck, no doubt getting agitated by how slow we were driving. 

We drove thirty miles through this pea soup before we finally found a motel, The Elk Inn in Elkin.  We had my birthday dinner at the restaurant next door and I made the mistake of ordering fish.  How could I forget that in the south, fish, any fish is served one way only: deep-fried.  I HATE fried fish.  I only ate a few bites before losing my appetite.  Lauren on the other hand was quite happy to be in the south because this is the only area of the country apparently where they still sell the soda Mello Yello. 

ONTO DAY 3