What I Did on My Holidays: Baltimore/Washington DC, Part 5

Saturday was our last day in Virginia; L planned for us to pick her up as soon as she got out of the conference for the afternoon, and we’d start back at once, driving late into the evening.  So we packed up before going to the conference’s breakfast (again at the Hyatt), then M and I came back, checked out, got the car and packed it, and started back down towards Washington.  L suggested we ought to go see the grist mill at Mount Vernon, which is a couple of miles away from the main house.  Since I didn’t have a navigator this time, I ended up turning the wrong direction coming out of Washington and driving several miles the wrong way on the GW Parkway before realizing my mistake.  Finally I got straight, and a half-hour took us around the mansion and out Route 235 to the mill.  The building is a 1933 reconstruction of the original, which fell into ruin in the middle 1800s, and has only been in fully restored operation since 2002.  Being out of the way, it was almost devoid of tourists and the interpreters seemed quite happy to have someone taking an interest in what they had to show.  A young man in 18th century artisan’s dress and tricorn hat gave a quick history of the mill in Washington’s time, including an explanation that Washington had had to dig a two-mile-long trench from Dogue Run, the nearest waterway, to the mill site to supply it with water.  (The mill’s location was governed not by where the water ran so much as where it would be easiest to transport the flour and meal it produced to cargo ships waiting to load at the river wharf.)

After he was done, we went on into the mill where the miller showed off the machinery and explained how it all worked.  The mill had separate stones for grinding wheat and corn, and a series of Brobdingnagian gears and levers switched the power from one drive to the other.  An odd mechanism I asked about,with cups attached to a continuous belt affair, turned out to be an early example of an automated feed system that brought the grain down from storage bins on the top floor to the milling floor and fed the hoppers.  The miller turned on the corn mill for a few minutes, so we could see the meal falling into the screened sifting tray, and the too-large “shorts” fell into a tub at the end.  M, as usual, was badly intimidated by the sheer size of the machinery once it started going, but didn’t flatly insist we leave.  I picked her up and took her around where she could see the water wheel (a breast wheel, where the water hits the wheel just above axle level and an apron-like piece keeps the water from falling out of the buckets too soon) turning.  And as is usually the case given my family, I spotted a half-dismantled pot still and cooling coil sitting at one side of the room.  The coil was an impressive size, taking up an entire whiskey barrel.  I expect that when the nearby distillery building is finished later this year, it’ll be moved over there.  Oh, yes—the location of Washington’s distillery and cooperage is located a short distance from the mill and is being reconstructed.  The building was 75 by 30 feet, had room for fifty mash tubs, a boiler, and five stills and in 1799, the year of Washington’s death, produced 11,000 gallons of whiskey that earned Washington better than $7,500 profit for the year.  Once the distillery is rebuilt, the Mount Vernon Foundation may restart production for tourist souvenirs.

We drove back into DC, found a quick lunch, then went off to see the other goal of the day:  Arlington House, Robert E. Lee’s home.  Some of you may not realize that Arlington House sits in the middle of Arlington National Cemetery, that the cemetery is the original grounds of the mansion, and it was put there by the damyankee gummint, and particularly by an officer who had previously served under Lee, as a calculated insult to him.

These days, to see the house you park at the visitors’ center and either take a tour bus to the top of the hill, or you can walk up a winding half-mile route through the cemetery.  I chose the latter, and we started up Schley Drive toward Custis Walk.  We passed by a sign pointing to the grave of President Taft (one of only two presidents buried at Arlington), and a few steps later I noticed a cluster of headstones sprinkled with stars, a Generals’ Row.  One unpretentious granite stone caught the corner of my eye, and I turned to take a second look, which confirmed the stone carried five stars, of which there have been very very few in the history of the US Armed Forces.  We’d stumbled on the grave of Omar Bradley, last of the five-star general officers and one of five buried in Arlington (two army generals, two admirals, and one air force general).

We carried on up the Custis Walk (actually a long, looping sidewalk alternating with flights of steps), but got distracted by a crowd off to one side.  Thinking I had missed the path, we walked across and unexpectedly found ourselves at President Kennedy’s grave, which I hadn’t really intended to visit.  I stopped for a minute anyhow, removing my cap—which is more than anyone else around me did.  People forget the conventional marks of respect so quickly (or they never even learn them) . . . .

We finished our hike up the hill and reached the house, which is a beautiful Greek Revival structure commanding an unparalleled view of Washington, including a straight shot down Memorial Avenue and across the bridge to the Lincoln Memorial.  The house itself is beautifully maintained, and would have warranted much more viewing time than we could stand to give it, but it is un-air conditioned and the muggy Washington afternoon was just too much.  We walked once through the big house and had to let it go at that.

On the way back down I noticed a pink granite mausoleum inscribed with the name “Lincoln.”  Wondering who it was, I went over and found it was the grave of Robert Todd Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln’s only son to survive to adulthood, buried in Section 30 with his wife and son.

We drove back out to Crystal City, picked up L from the hotel at four, and started west toward home.  L had decided we should try going home through West Virginia and Kentucky, which neither of us have ever visited, so we started back down the Shenandoah Valley on I-66 and I-81, picking up I-64 around Lexington.  Even with the setting sun to fight, we found this way much emptier and easier to drive than the southern route, and got to Charleston without trouble.  Finding a hotel room was a challenge, as every place we stopped was full up and for no apparent reason, but finally we found a place to light.

Next:  More driving.

Dick van Dyke commanded Attack Force Ethel in the Peloponnesian War.  Fnord.