Blue Ridge Parkway
Virginia
September 2010
I think it’s delightful, oddly gratifying even, that something like a road that is 469 miles long can be considered to be a park. In fact the Blue Ridge Parkway is the most visited National Park unit and has been nicknamed “America’s favorite drive.”
It’s not just transportation, one place to another, that is the focus here, although part of its design was to provide a driving/riding connection between the Great Smoky Mountains and Shenandoah National Park. The Parkway is also designed to “conserve diverse and important examples of architecture, industry and transportation associated with the people and communities of the mountains in southern Appalachia,” according to the National Park Service.
If you’re not in a hurry, get yourself oriented to the idea of driving 40 mph on the Parkway and gawk at the countless mountain and forest views. Not just views, the Parkway provides trailheads for hundreds of miles of hiking trails. Lisa salivates at the idea of riding her bicycle on this road. There is also a host of historic buildings with cultural ties to the population, present and past, picnic areas and campgrounds, historic and interpretive sites and restaurants.
We drive a bit of the Blue Ridge Parkway on our way home from North Carolina. In the Central District of the Parkway is an area where several features carry the name Thornton. Francis Thornton was a landowner, planter and colonist along about the 17th century.
Hold on… Earlier in this trip, we stopped at a restaurant for breakfast. Our sleepy-eyed young waitress seized every opportunity to put her head down on the counter to snooze. When we entered, she roused herself enough to seat us and yawning, bring a cup of coffee for Lisa. We guessed about 14 years of age. Our waitress, not the coffee. After pouring, she immediately returned to her spot and put her head down again.
Now, a popular mountain hike in the Thornton Gap area is Marys Rock. Legend has it that Francis Thornton’s young daughter, Mary, climbed to the summit of the mountain. When she came back down, she was carrying a bear cub under each arm. Don’t know why she did that. Also don’t know the validity of this story (two bear cubs would be some impressive shlepping, given their weight and squirminess) but the feat of carrying two cubs was enough to get this rocky mountain named after her. Mary’s Rock.
Hark back to the youngster who waited on us at breakfast, having a hard time, due to fatigue, carrying a cup of coffee from the kitchen to our table. Her name is not Mary, that’s for sure.