Stones for Stonewall

March 22

Back on the road again, and it was a pretty good day today. 

I’m at a cheap motel in Madison Heights, next to Lynchburg, Va. It’s cold up north, but my overcoat is in the trunk. I’m planning to go to Rivermont Pizza (note to self: 2496 Rivermont, Lynchburg), which sells craft beer.

I drove down to Fredericksburg yesterday to visit the Capital Ale House and to get away from the weather in New Jersey. Had I left a day earlier, I wouldn’t have had to wipe snow off my car.

Anyhow, Capital Ale House ranks with Ginger Man and Rattle n Hum for selection of craft brews on tap and in the bottle. Top of their list was Cuvee des Jacobins, a Belgian red wild ale. Just like the Ginger Man. And just like the Ginger Man, they were out of it.

I had a substitute, good but not as good, from the New Belgium brewery called Lips of Faith, or La Folie. Definitely tasty with a little pucker in it. The place was packed so I sat in one of their easy chairs by the fireplace to drink it.

It was hamburger night, so I had a $2 burger and a pint of Ommegang Hop House, which is billed as a Belgian IPA. A nice mix of flavors.

For dessert, I ordered a red ale called Fred Red from a Virginia brewer called Blue and Gray. That was more malty than the Hop House, but there is something I love about rich flavor of red ale. I used to drink Smithwicks a lot, but I find the craft brewers do a far better job.

The Ale House also sells bottles to go. I couldn’t believe my luck. They had a four-pack of one of my favorite ales, Green Flash Hop Head Red IPA. Red IPA is an American creft brew innovation, which has resulted in some of the best drinks in the world.

I was talking to the bartender about my hobby in Virginia of tracking down references to Stonewall Jackson. He brought over another bartender, who is a history buff. He has worked on a few local history projects for cable TV.

We compared Stonewall Jackson notes. He may have been surprised that I found it all slightly funny. I mean, come on: a shrine to Stonewall Jackson?

But Jackson is why I made a beeline this morning for the battlefield at Chancellorsville. I spent an hour and half there and ran into more Stonewall Jackson material than I will have time to pass along.

The battle site is part of a larger national park where a series of battles were fought over a period of about 18 months--engagement after engagement as the Union Army tried to press toward Richmond. The whole area is the Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania National Military Park.

The visitor center is a matter of yards from the spot where Jackson was hit. He led a reconaissance party that got near the Union lines and turned back, only to be mistaken for attackers. Stonewall was indeed hit by so-called “friendly fire.” Maybe he was fragged, after all.

There is a large piece of unmarked quartz, placed late in the 19th century, that marks the spot where he was shot. Another, more formal monument is supposedly on the place where his panicked horse was stopped and Jackson was taken down.

There are signs all over the place about where he went. There are others about a decisive flanking maneuver that he had led the day before.

The rebels were outnumbered almost two to one. Jackson and Lee learned where the Union right flank was. Jackson led most of the rebel army and attacked that flank.

It so disordered the Union, that they lost a battle they should have won. A year later, Jackson was dead and Lincoln put Grant in charge of the campaign. Grant began a war of attrition that eventually brought the Confederates down.

On the highway toward Charlottesville, I saw a roadside historical marker with the headline “Jackson’s Amputation.” He was carried to a field hospital where his shattered left arm was amputated. He was taken to a plantation near a rail junction called Guinea Station, where he died a little more than a week later.

The plantation office where Stonewall died is now the Stonewall Jackson Shrine. I didn’t go there this time, but have been there a few times in the past. Once I got to show it to Joanna.

Another curious sign is on Route 20, on the way to Charlottesville. There is a road sign, apparently official and not one of the things you can buy to put by your driveway, that reads “Pinch Em Slyly PL.”

I ran a Google search and couldn’t find the story behind the name. One blogger says there was once a tavern there. A few shots and beers, feeling frisky. OK, that might explain it.

I stopped for lunch at a strip mall on Route 20. Not sure of the town name, but the place was called Generals’ Quarters. This was another of the growing number of craft brew bars in Virginia. It had several taps, all unknown to me. 

This is the downside of car trips. If somebody else was doing the driving, I would have sampled a few with lunch.

I did try their chicken and corn chowder, which was like an upscale version of Brunswick stew, a North Carolina favorite, usually made with pork or chicken. I read once on a menu that the stew was originally from Virginia, where it was made with rabbit.

I was coming down a hill toward a town that I learned later is called Orange. Just like the one in France, only without a Roman theater.

It did, however, have a bit of stagecraft. On the edge of a field is an almost full-size replica of a row of old-fashioned building facades, 50 or more feet wide and ending with a painted church.

Second glance showed why it’s there. Whoever owns that field didn’t want it to include a view of the old dump. There are piles of broken trees and house trash behind a crumbling wood fence. The trash pile has been there long enough that trees have started to grow on it.

Route 20 brought me into Charlottesville. I drove around town. It’s a pretty place, but I didn’t stop there.

I found U.S. 29 and made it to Madison Heights, where the motel is, before four. It’s a little after five now. I expect to go looking for Rivermont Pizza in a little while.

Tomorrow I head for Weldon, N.C., for some barbecue and, if I’m lucky, some Brunswick stew.

If anything weird turns up, I’ll let you know. If you don’t hear from me, it will be because there was nothing funny enough to write about.

Love to all.

Harry