WOODROW & A WASTE OF WAX

June 12-13, 2012      Moving on this morning.  Of course, the rain held off just long enough for me to start dumping the tanks, then it poured throughout the process.  At least the drain was high and dry and not under water itself like we’ve experienced elsewhere.  That done, we set off down the Shenandoah Valley on our way to Staunton, VA, the birthplace of Woodrow Wilson and the site of his museum.  Thus far we’ve seen LBJ’s in Austin (while attending an AABB convention in San Antonio), Clinton's in Little Rock, and Eisenhower's in Abilene.  Even though Reagan’s and Nixon’s are in our back yard, we haven’t  gone to  either.  Probably won’t.  Anyway, we made it through the drizzle to Staunton, where the skies cleared up and we found parking close to the museum on a side street.  Given the narrowness of the streets, and the compactness of the towns in these parts, parking is tricky.

Wilson’s museum is very much a home-town, low-key affair, unlike the museums of more recent presidents.  It is housed in a lovely brick house on a tree-lined street just two doors away from his birthplace.

 

 

His birthplace is that white house you can just make out on the far right.  The museum is the brick house on the left, with Loni standing on the porch.

Wilson was born here in 1856, and was elected the 28th president in 1912, beating Taft, Teddy, and Eugene Debs.  He wasn’t anyone’s first choice, not getting the nod until the 36th ballot.  Promising to keep us out of Europe’s wars, he was re-elected in 1916.  We all know how that turned out.  Along the way, he was president of Princeton, developed its classic liberal arts curriculum, and had a rather inflated view (see below) of the value of a Princeton education.  Like I said, this is a low-key museum, but still was full of interesting items, along with some hokum.

After the museum, we went through his birthplace, but weren’t permitted to take pictures.  It was a former Presbyterian “manse” when his father served as minister.  The guide was well-versed in the lore, and made it pretty interesting, including opining on the origins of common expressions.  Supposedly, “down to the wire” refers to a candle burning down to it’s wire-ring base.  Who am I to argue?

We walked a couple of blocks to the “main drag” of Staunton, which was quite appealing.

Even more appealing was the “Pampered Palate,” a little sandwich shop located in the storefront on the left just across the intersection.  We had a delicious soup, half a wrap, tea for Loni, and, embarrassingly . . .

Ok, I just had half of each dessert, and the milkshake.  Shameless.  Oh, yes.  Do make a beeline for this place if you ever find yourself in this out-of-the-way town.

We spent the night nearby at the Walnut Hills KOA which was pleasant enough.  It was getting pretty hot and humid, so we made good use of their pool.  No TV reception at all, but we didn’t miss it.  Fairly good wifi, so got caught up on emails.

The downside of the place is that there had been a lot of rain, and the “cheap” spots (no utilities) were all in a rather low area that had a lot of standing water.  It was nicely shaded, and had a picturesque winding stream through it, but we were concerned about sinking into the soggy soil.  Our tire should be above the grass, but the whole ramp has been squashed into the ground.

When we drove off it the next morning, I had to pry it out of the earth.  For now, though, we (well, I;  Loni was making dinner) just kicked back and used the iPod for mail, and watched the birdies.

Next morning, we took a stroll around the park.  Many of the sites surround a moderate fishing lake with an improbable name.

Our next stop was only 50 miles away – Natural Bridge Historic Park, just south of Lexington, VA.  This leg was all on I-81, the only N/S highway in western Virginia, and it was heavy with truck traffic.  The Valley, though, was beautiful.  I’m not sure just what to say about Natural Bridge.  If you’ve ever been to Arches N.P. or Natural Bridges N.P. out west, you really don’t need to make an effort to see this one.  It’s impressive for the East, but pales in comparison to the western giants.  The entrance fee is $18, but includes such attractive extras as the butterfly museum, a re-creation of an Indian village, a toy museum, and, saving the best for last, the wax museum.  Oh, be still my heart.  Having come this far, we took the plunge.

We got our exercise for the day on the 137 steps down (and back up) to the riverbed, checking out the promo marker.

Once down there, you’re there!  For scale, look at the tiny figures directly under the bridge, not those on the path in the foreground.  We’re posing under the arch, looking back the other way.  The square is marking the site where Washington allegedly carved his initials in 1750.  Although the above “history” seems pretty confident of this, the docents were a lot more wishy-washy.  The box is on the wall on the other side of the river from where we’re posing.

A state highway runs across the top of the arch, so I guess they’re pretty confident in its integrity.  We did not put it to the test with the rig.

So, what did we get for the rest of our $18?  Well, a few nice butterflies in some small rooms.

The Indian village was not worth photographing, and the toy museum was mercifully closed.  Ah, but the wax museum.  Yes, the wax museum, without a doubt the worst-made figures and the most ridiculous settings we’d ever seen.  Truly, we were stifling laughs so as not to offend anyone connected with it, nor the few other tourists who seemed vaguely enthralled.  The truly awful Garden of Eden scene was paired with what could only be a true hell on earth ---- a gathering of past presidents, all but one of which were barely recognizable.  But that lonely one truly was absolutely lifelike!