Tales from the Road: The Shenandoah Valley
“Where do you want to go tomorrow, Precious?” We were heading for Staunton, Va., in the Shenandoah Valley.
“Our granddaughter, Hosanna, will meet us at the tourist center at exit 99 of I-64 — in Virginia, of course. She lives east of the Appalachians, and we’ll take a short trip on the Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park. And the next day she’ll take us on a tour of where she lives and works near Crozet (pronounced Krozay).”
I’m glad I asked because Carol had it all figured out.
As we entered the Shenandoah Valley, I began reminiscing what I read about it. At the same time Carol began singing: “Oh, Shenandoah, I long to see you, away you rolling river. Oh Shenandoah, I long to see you, away I’m bound to go across the wide Missouri.”
I laughed and said, “And here we are, about to experience it for ourselves.”
Looking up the meaning of the word, Shenandoah is difficult to translate because its origin lies in the shadow of obscurity. Excuse me — that means no one knows for certain what it means; but three possibilities are: spruce stream, great plains, and beautiful daughter of the stars.
Here are the possible origins of those meanings: 1) Shenandoah has been found in books of Indian etymology as Schin-han-dowi, which roughly translates into ‘river through the spruce.’ 2) The name might have come from On-an-da-goa which means ‘river coming from high mountains.’ However, because Onan-da-goa also infers ‘silver water’ (water reflecting shining stars), the favored meaning is 3) ‘daughter of the stars’ because of its romantic appeal.
We set up camp in the Shenandoah Valley Campground in Verona, Va. In the morning we found exit 99; and sure enough, Hosanna was waiting for us.
As we drove on Skyline Drive — oh, I need to interject here: the Skyline Drive runs the crest of the eastern side of what is called the Ridge-and-Valley Appalachians. As we stopped at several lookout areas and scanned the horizon, I couldn’t stop thinking about the great American catastrophe: The War Between the States. The boys in Blue and Gray trudged up the Shenandoah Valley on the west side of these hills as they forged their way into history in a little-known town named Gettysburg, Penn. Gettysburg is about 100 miles north of the Valley. But I digress.
The Skyline Drive in the Shenandoah National Park is 105 miles long, but the speed limit is 35 mph and we drove for only 30 miles. We were above the noise of interstate freeways, cattle, industries and all the rest. The best description I can think of is PEACEFUL. The highest peak in the park is 4,051 feet (three-quarters of a mile) above sea level and the scenery is breathtaking. In contrast, most of you reading this reflection article live between 500 and 1,500 feet above sea level.
The next day, we drove about 35 miles up a valley on the east of the of the Skyline Drive. Our son, Jeremy, raised his family in the Mennonite culture and Hosanna, Jeremy’s oldest daughter, works with a group called Mission Home. They have a bakery, grow their own food, raise their cattle, and have several craft and furniture-making shops.
They don’t live that way merely to withdraw from society, or even to build a company. They sell much of their produce and products to businesses and individuals to raise money to help people. They provide a home for people — children as well as adults — who have special mental and physical needs. Mission Home teaches these residents about Christ, and teaches them a trade so that they can learn to support themselves as much as possible.
They never ask for or solicit funding, but if you wish to donate financially, contact me and I’ll give you further information.
There are many abandoned houses and barns in these Appalachians, and I took pictures of some that date back to the Civil War days. They may look sad, dilapidated, and run down, but I wonder how many of our modern houses will be standing 150 years from now.
We camped in the Shenandoah Valley Campground for three nights. It’s a beautiful campground, and the river running adjacent to our campsite was music to my ears. Surprisingly, I didn’t do any fishing.