Forts...

This weekend I decided to explore forts. A string of them - literally dozens - once surrounded our nation's capitol, most of them from the Civil War, but some from before or after. I set out for Ft. Foote, on the Maryland side of the Potomac, a few miles south of DC.

[National Park Service site HERE]
[Google aerial view HERE]

It is little more than ruins of a Civil War era fort now administered by the National Park Service, and it is very much off the beaten path, but I knew as soon as I turned into the entrance that I would like it.

There, right next to the dirt road, was a mother deer and her little one, and they wouldn't get out of the way! I wanted to hop from behind the wheel and walk up and say, "Look, I'm one of those nasty human beings that you frequently see from a distance, and you should have run off in sheer terror about three minutes ago." Finally, I just drove slowly by. The grass in that particular spot must have been delicious. Mom and baby stopped chewing, and just looked at me as I passed on the way to the little parking lot. Then they resumed.


It soon became apparent why the fort was left untouched, or, more specifically, why the cannons were left untouched. Some of the guns placed here were so big it was difficult to remove them once they were no longer needed. I'm sure, at the start of the war, with Confederate troops running back and forth out there in the woods and warships sailing around God knows where, there must have been a sense of urgency to move the things into place. After the war, when someone got the bright idea to relocate them, I'm guessing the response was a series of raised eyebrows, accompanied by a "you must be joking" look. These are Rodman 15 inch smoothbore cannons. Two of them remain at the site. To get an idea of their size, you can compare them to the couple from Kansas and their young daughter that I ran into during my wanderings.

(Don't forget, you can click on each of these images to view larger versions)


These monsters fired an iron ball that weighed 434 pounds. The guns themselves weighed 49,000 pounds. I wouldn't want to move them. Would you want to move them? So, here they sit, in the Maryland woods on the edge of the Potomac, surrounded by apparently scrumptious fields and lovely trees.


The arched, concrete structures that were powder magazines, and supporting facilities have seen better days, but they are still very much in evidence. I love walking around places like this. It never ceases to fascinate me. The trick is in trying to picture yourself there at the time. Imagine you are Fred the Union Soldier, and you are standing by the front gate in 1863 wondering why the deer won't go away. Your rations haven't been up to par lately, and you're thinking about munching some of that grass yourself...

Anyway, sites like this are great because there usually isn't much to them, and you can move along quickly without feeling like you've left something out. It gives you a real feeling of accomplishment. There was one curious thing. A road led from the parking lot to the ruins, and another road led, after a half mile or so, to a grill and a trash can. I'm not kidding. Here they are, hundreds of yards way from anything else in the park:


I was trying to figure out why this would be the case, when, because I have become so adept at imagining myself in another place and another time, I pictured park headquarters during the meeting that must have decided on this arrangement.

Ranger 1: Well, we think we have the Ft. Foote park ready to open to the public, sir. Most of the debris has been removed. We've cleared a parking lot and a road to the site. We've even made sure there is no residue remaining from the gas tests that were conducted there during World War I.

Head Ranger: Excellent. (looks at a map of the site, and wonders about the other road). What is this road for?

Ranger 1: Nothing, sir.

Head Ranger: Nothing?

Ranger 1: That's correct, sir.

Head Ranger: Well, why is it there?

Ranger 1: We didn't actually want the road to be there, sir. It's just the place where they parked the bulldozer for breaks and lunches while they were clearing the road that we did want.

Head Ranger: I see. (pauses to think) That's a problem.

Ranger 1: What do you mean, sir?

Head Ranger: People will be mad if we let them walk down a long road that leads to nowhere.

Ranger 1: I see your point, sir.

Ranger 2: (meekly, unsure of himself) We could... We could put a grill at the end of the road, sir.

Head Ranger: A grill? Why on Earth would we want to put a grill at the end of a long road that leads to nowhere?

Ranger 2: That way, when people get to the end of the road, they would think that the road was there to take them to the grill, sir.

Head Ranger: (thinks again, for a long moment, then exclaims) By God, that's genius!

Ranger 2: Thank you, sir. (bolder now) We could even put a trash can with the grill, sir. That way it would really appear as if we intended them to be there all along.

Head Ranger: (excited now) Genius, I tell you. Genius. (looks at Ranger 1) What do you think about that Ranger 1?

Ranger 1: Installing a grill and a trash can would be much cheaper than erasing a long road to nowhere, sir.

Head Ranger: (pounds the conference table decisively with a clenched fist) Make it so.

I inspected the grill, and it looked as if it had actually been used at some point, although probably not since the Carter administration. But Ft. Foote was a great way to start the day, and a perfect primer for what was to follow...

Moving Up...

Yesterday, I spent most of the day moving my stuff to one of the upstairs bedrooms. Rachel and Leslie moved out over the weekend, and Lisa (the landlord) wanted to embark on a massive re-organizing effort downstairs, and then advertise both of those rooms for rent since they seem to be more desirable. It appears that I will only be in the house for a couple more weeks, and, with two rooms coming open, I had volunteered to move anywhere that made things easier for Lisa. So, after some cleaning and preparation, I moved to Rachel’s old room on the second floor, up two flights of stairs from the basement.

In some strange way, I was looking forward to it. I wanted to see what life was like up there in the lofty heights. Despite the common area that opened to the back deck, the downstairs room felt like a cave, quiet and secure, but also dark and isolated. Usually, I enjoyed the solitude, but sometimes I felt like an inmate on Alcatraz.

Immediately after settling in the new room, I noticed some differences.

As you know, hot air rises, therefore, thermostats in multi-level dwellings are tricky things. It took only a few moments before I understood why the upstairs folks were always adjusting the temperature. While you could hang meat in the lower regions of the house, the upstairs seemed a bit toasty. I soon noticed that there were ceiling fans in all the rooms, and that the temperatures were actually in the normal range, it’s just that I had become accustomed to shivering even when it was ninety-five outside. Soon, I was quite comfy.

Then, during my first trip to the upstairs bathroom, I noticed that the exhaust fan is rather old, and, for about ninety seconds after you flick the switch, it sounds like Marine One is attempting to land on the roof. But it settled into a more restrained cacophony, and, after trudging up and down two flights of stairs forty times, the hot shower was a welcome relief.

The next major change involved sleeping. The downstairs room had a normal twin bed. This room has a queen-sized air bed. I’ve never slept on one before. In a house like this, air beds make perfect sense. When a renter shows up with their own stuff, Lisa can deflate the air bed, and store it easily. For those who need a bed, you take it out of the box, plug in the pump, and, voila! My first few attempts to settle back and read were very tentative. I couldn’t avoid the admittedly irrational fear that the thing would spontaneously pop, and traumatically deflate with an obscene rush of air, like a gigantic whoopie cushion, leaving me dazed on the floor in a pile of plastic and pillows. Eventually, I relaxed, and realized it is quite comfortable. I drifted off into a sound sleep.

This morning was my first morning in the new room, and it was a harrowing experience. As I look back, I think it started when Cynthia woke up and turned on the bathroom fan. I was still asleep, but, somewhere in the back of my brain, I began processing the disturbances around me. Something was landing on the roof! After a minute, I could hear voices, talking. Surely, this is not right. Then the music started, faintly, at first. And I could feel heat, and sense bright light, blinding light. I thought it was the beginning of a close encounter of the third kind. I may have even dreamed I was Richard Dreyfuss. It was horrifying. I awoke suddenly to see something I hadn’t seen in three months - the sun shining through my windows!

Oh yeah, did I mention that I have two windows?

Cynthia was up, getting ready for work, TV on, exhaust fan on, and there was daylight outside! It was already a glorious morning, and I decided I the best way to complete the start of the new day would be to have a cup of coffee. So, I’m off to Starbucks. Even though I’ve moved up, some things never change…

Disruption at Fort Totten

When I first arrived in the DC area, I signed up for two text alert services. One is called DC Alert. I receive text messages on my phone when there are severe weather warnings, vehicle accidents that affect traffic patterns, or other major police, fire or utility situations that it helps to know about so they can be avoided. I also signed up for Metro Alerts. I receive text messages on my phone when there are outages, delays, repairs or other situations on the Metro that affect its ability to run on time, if at all.

It is indicative of my experience here that I get Red Line (the part of the Metro that I'm on) alerts every day since the crash on June 22. I have a hard time being too bitter because it could be much worse. I could have been on that train. The night of the crash, I ended up semi-stranded in DC, and made my way home with some improvisation and luck (See Previous Blog Entry HERE), but I really couldn't feel sorry for myself because I knew there were people who wouldn't make it home that night, and, in fact, some (as it turned out, nine of them) who would never make it home.

Still, when I chose the location of my hovel, I was counting on the Metro to provide at least part of my link to the unfamiliar outside world. It hasn't worked out the way I hoped.

The June crash occurred between the Fort Totten and Takoma Park stations, four stops down the line from the station I use (Glenmont). Service hasn't been the same since, and the frustration continues. Just today, I received twelve alert messages. Here's a sampling:

(ID 57949) Disruption at Fort Totten. Expect delays in both directions due to a switch malfunction outside Fort Totten station.

(ID 57315) Disruption at Fort Totten. Trains are moving at reduced speeds between Fort Totten and Takoma stations due to track circuit repairs. Expect delays in both directions.

(ID 57315) Disruption at Fort Totten. Due to the ongoing June 22nd accident investigation, Red line trains are traveling at reduced speeds between Fort Totten & Takoma stations. Expect delays in both directions.

(ID 57945) Disruption at Fort Totten. Every evening during the month of August, Red line trains will share the same track between Fort Totten and Takoma stations due to track circuit repairs. Customers may encounter delays and are encouraged to add at least 30 minutes to their travel times.

Every evening during the month of August!

If I ever write a book about my life, the chapter dealing with this portion of it will be called Disruption at Fort Totten.

Top 10 Beer List

When waiting on a Metro platform or standing in line somewhere, I'm sure it appears to those around me as if I'm just staring off into space, but I've actually found a very constructive way to use that time. I try to make a mental list of 10 people (living people, not historical figures) with whom I'd like to be able to sit down and enjoy a beer and a good chat.

Try it some time. It's not as easy as you think. Obviously, the possibilities are almost endless. For me, the list changes frequently, depending on my mood and present circumstances. There is one person who always seems to be there though. Gary Larson.

If the name doesn't sound familiar, he is the creator of the very clever, extremely entertaining, but often dark and bizarre series of cartoons called The Far Side.

As I contemplate my existence, I appreciate Larson's philosophical views:


I'll drink to that.

Thanks, But No Thanks...

Got this today:

Thank you for your interest in the communications associate position at the Xxxxxxxx. We apologize for the delay in responding to your application, but had an unprecedented number of submissions. Unfortunately, we are unable to offer you a position at this time. Thank you again for your time and interest. We wish you the best of luck in your job search.

Sincerely,


Martha Xxxxxxxxx
Director of Communications
Organization Xxxxxx

I applied for this job on June 1st. June 1st!

I've pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I'll be heading to Florida in a couple of weeks. Given my recent luck, I'm assuming that, the day I arrive in Orlando, I'll get an e-mail from a company in DC requesting an interview.

C'est la vie.

Rocks...

** Please note: You can click on all of the photos below and find a full size image to enjoy. To get the full effect, I urge you to do so.**

On Sunday, I decided to visit Great Falls National Park (Link HERE). It's just over the border in Virginia, not more than 30 minutes drive, and, after Saturday's bike ride, I wanted to be active but not too active.

I was expecting a nice park and a peaceful afternoon. I had no idea...

I get to the parking lot (after using my NPS Annual Pass!) and hear rushing, falling water. Then I see the sign below and I KNOW I've found a place I'm going to like!


I followed the trail to the nearest ledge and was greeted by this...


I had always heard there was a section of the Potomac River that was impassable for boats - that's why there have been various sets of locks and canals built over the years - but I had no idea that Great Falls really meant great falls! From the same vantage point, I looked to the right...


In the distance, you can see that the river curves to the right, and enters a spectacular gorge. Once you are below the worst of the falls, you are in kayakers' heaven. The launch points are not easy to reach - typically they have to carry their kayak a fair distance and drop down through some treacherous terrain - but I bet the ride is amazing.


So I went home thinking that I had enjoyed a nice walk, and some great scenery, but I was a bit curious about the other side of the river - the Maryland side. I knew there was more government land over there, and I had seen people walking on the rocks across the way.

I figured I would give that a shot on Monday (today). The weather forecast was encouraging, and the Executive Naming Committee had mandated some sort of festivities in honor of the christening of the Raft.

As it turns out, the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal National Park runs all along the Potomac on the Maryland side. No, really, all along the Maryland side. For 184 miles. (Map Link HERE) The park contains what used to be the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, which, according to the National Park website (Link HERE) was "a lifeline for communities and businesses along the Potomac River." The adjacent tow path that was formerly used by mule teams to haul river barges upstream is now a hiking/biking trail all the way to Cumberland, Maryland. It's fantastic.

I want to quote extensively from the National Park Service website here, because this is fascinating:

The canal was literally a man-made river. To make the canal work a complex system of hydrology was constructed. To supply water for the canal seven feeder dams were built on the Potomac River from Cumberland to Little Falls. To control the water, seventy-four lift locks were placed in the canal. Each lock raised or lowered a boat approximately eight feet. The locks allowed boats to travel upstream or downstream and made it possible to overcome the elevation difference of 605 feet between Georgetown and Cumberland. Waste weirs and culverts were added to the canal to divert off excess water. In case of a flood, stop locks were constructed to direct flood waters back into the Potomac River.

Bear in mind, the canal runs roughly parallel to the river, but they are separate. The canal took twenty-two years to build, from 1828 to 1850.

So... me and the Raft head out, with Christ on a Raft on the dashboard, After a brief ceremony in the parking lot, the car is officially named.


I had noticed some side trails that looked like they ran along the river, and I thought that was where I wanted to go. A few hundred yards up the tow path, I see a side path. Then I see this sign:


I KNOW I've found a place I'm going to like. And the route is called the Billy Goat Trail. It's got to be good, right? I had no idea...


Because I know solo hiking can be a bit dicey sometimes, I had dressed properly - with sturdy hiking boots - brought plenty of water, a first-aid kit, raincoat, multi-tool, and flashlight with extra batteries. I also brought Albert. I had been ignoring him recently, and this seemed like the kind of trip he'd enjoy. Once he saw the trail (the narrow ledge - the trail marker is the blue and white vertical strip just in front of Albert), he had to show off, of course, and get to the top of the first ledge ahead of me. But, holy cow, this was the sight that greeted me as I looked upriver...


... a long, twisting, rugged slice of heaven.

The "trail" sometimes looked like this:


And sometimes it looked like this:


Then you'd get to the top of one of the rocky peaks, and you would just want to sit and stare.


Incidentally, this is why I also brought along my mini-tripod, so I could take pictures like this - same spot, but now it has me in it:


Albert still hasn't figured out how to use my camera. Also, it was at this point that I discovered that Albert is a good climber, but he's not much on the descent. When I got to the bottom of this tricky stretch, I turned around to see that Albert hadn't budged.


Wait a minute, you say, Albert isn't in that picture. On the contrary, just to give you an idea of the scale and heights and distances we're dealing with, look closely, Albert is between the arrows:


And this is actually the "trail" - you can see the light blue paint slash on the nearest rock and on the angular rock about halfway up. I had to climb back up there and carry him down.

Eventually, we got to another place where a self-portrait seemed appropriate.


And we relaxed and enjoyed the view.


This hike was easily one of the most fun, challenging, scenic and all-in-all enjoyable I've ever had.

It's hard to believe this is 15 miles from the front door of my hovel, and about the same distance from downtown Washington, DC.

ENC Announces Christening Ceremony...

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

There was a brief meeting of the Executive Naming Committee last night at which the member (me) ratified the poll respondents' choice of "The Raft" as the name for my new old Volvo. It was suggested by one poll respondent that "E" be used as a middle name, in the event that such becomes useful or necessary, and this motion, having been formally proposed, was approved by a unanimous vote of 1-0.

The christening ceremony will be this afternoon at 1:00 near the Great Falls Tavern Visitor Center at the Chesapeake and Ohio National Canal Park. Directions, if you need them, may be found HERE. Casual attire is appropriate. Water will be served.