What April in the Country taught me.

I can't remember the last time I was so looking forward to the open road.  Generally a 700 mile road trip alone would be discomforting, but as this trip started taking shape, I yearned for it.

A few months back my older brother suggested that we go to Merlefest, an annual bluegrass festival held in Wilkesboro, NC in the far western part of the state.  My brother and father are both avid Doc Watson fans, and this festival was started by Doc to honor his son, Merle, who died in a tractor accident about 25 years ago.  Doc himself just died last year.  A beautiful blues/bluegrass singer, he is remembered for his generosity, encouragement of other musicians, and dry humor.

This isn't something I would normally do, but the location of the festival made it more attractive because it would lead me past Charlottesville and Blacksburg, where two of my favorite people from my life in Williamsburg are now in school.  I decided it would be fun to bond with my brother and father at the festival and I'd get in good visits with friends along the way.  So I committed.

I left work early on Friday and slogged through Friday afternoon rush down to Charlottesville, Virginia.  This is possibly one of my favorite places on the planet.  The drive down there is beautiful in any season, they have great music, food and people, and excellent running paths.  Recipe for winning my heart, right there.  I immediately went to campus to retrieve Allison and we spent the afternoon walking on the downtown mall, catching up, and then lounging at Lambeth Field watching all the Friday afternoon pickup games of soccer, lacrosse, and volleyball.  Oh college.  It was sunny and warm and whenever I think of moments like that one, I think of the Better Than Ezra song, "This time of year" which goes like this:

Well, there's a feeling in the air
Just like a Friday afternoon.
Yeah, you can go there if you want
Though it fades too soon.

So go on, let it be.
If there's a feeling coming over me,
Seems like it's always understood this time of year.

Well, I know there's a reason to change.
Well, I know there's a time for us.
You think about the good times
And you live with all the bad.
You can feel it in the air,
Feeling right this time of year.

I love that song so much.  It always reminds me of the bliss of Friday afternoons in college when it felt like your whole life was in front of you - and it is! right? - and all is possibility.  So Allison helped me remember what that felt like, and we got to spend it together, which was great.  She came to dinner with me and a William and Mary friend who lives and works in C-ville now at Continental Divide.  We waited over an hour for a table because it was Foxfield weekend.  This is the day at the horse races that the entire college and lots of alumni show up for in the spring wearing their preppy finest.  Gentlemen in pastels and seersucker, ladies in their sundresses and big hats.  C-ville was humming.  It was hard to wait an hour for the table but we sort of passed the point where we felt like we could cut and run.  I was so invested, it was like winning a battle. It only has 12 tables to begin with and people tend to camp out for the margaritas all night.  The delicious food and mediocre, at best, service, are memorable.  

After dinner, I parted ways with Allison, as she started to prep for her day at the races with her sorority the next day, and I went down to the bars on the mall to meet another friend.  We dove into a lively discussion about religion and relationships and before we knew it, it was last call.  I crashed on this friend's couch, woke up early the next morning and went for a run along the Rivanna trail.  

I think it's no coincidence that Rivanna's name looks a lot like Rivendell.  It is certainly not pronounced similarly though (Rye-VA-nuh).  I learned that on an earlier trip where a local corrected me through a guffaw when I said "REE-vah-nah".   There was that same golden light along the path that there is in the movies in that hallowed Elven dwelling.  Is there anything better than clean spring air in your lungs, sunlight on your face, and a rolling river by your side?  To quote Edna St. Vincent Millay, 

...Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year.  

After a glorious run, I went to the grocery store for some breakfast while waiting for my cousin's family to return home from swimming lessons so I could visit with them.  This was one of my better decisions all weekend.  The grocery store on the morning of Foxfield is AMAZING.  Here is what you will find: 

1. Sorority girls in sundresses and huge hats buying sunblock, water, and snacks. 
2. Scads of fraternity guys with neon sunglasses, traveling in packs no fewer than four across, wearing pastel chino shorts, seersucker or nautical sport coats, boat shoes and bowties.  
3. Drinking from solo cups IN THE STORE.
4. 9:30 am purchases of 6 cases of Natty Light and fruit juice as a mixer for liquor already procured elsewhere.  
5.  At least 5 of these dandies packed into a 1992 Honda Accord, those in the back holding either a case of beer or a cup of "energy" to start the day.  
6. 40 year old men in the same uniform, doing the exact same things, except sub in a BMW 5 series for the Honda accord.  
7. Serious discussion about what chips go best with what beer and what quantities will be needed of both, in terms of cans per person, per hour, plus "barnacles" which I take to mean moochers.  

I could hardly contain my glee.  What a fantastic people experience that was.   Moving on, I spent the morning at my cousin's house where visited their little ones, played in the yard and had Bodo's bagels for lunch.  Feeling full of love for Charlottesville and loathe to leave as always, the open road was calling.  I was headed to Roanoke.  

I was supposed to be headed to Blacksburg to visit another Williamsburg friend who is in school there.  Sadly, our signals got crossed and she ended up not being in town.  So, I had already booked a nice non-refundable hotel and got a little personal retreat in Roanoke, VA.  In between Charlottesville and my final stop for the day though, I decided to detour in Natural Bridge, VA.  This actually was the best decision I made all weekend, because it led me straight into the Natural Bridge Wax Museum.  Before I arrived at that though, I came across a few other pieces of western Virginia tourism gold: 

Foamhenge - exactly what it sounds like.   

Natural Bridge Zoo - I drove past this and it was a 100'x30' fenced in area with a donkey, two ostriches, a pig, a llama and two chickens.  

Safari Park - this place apparently boasts a camel and some goats in addition to more donkeys and some chickens.
Smiley's BBQ - near Raphine, Virginia I saw a billboard that said "Best Dang BBQ in VA" and advertised this place.  For sure the best dang billboard I've ever seen, dagummit. 

So I finally arrive at the main event, after passing all the various tourist traps leading up to it.  Natural Bridge!  I go inside to purchase my ticket.  $21!!!  What? How could you charge me that much when I can go see the Grand Canyon for free? What's that you say?  The price of admission includes the Natural Bridge Wax Museum and Factory Tour? Well now, that's a whole different story.  I had to walk right past the door to the museum to actually get to the access path for the natural bridge anyway, so I figured why not.  It did not disappoint.

Now about this museum, I need to post a few pictures to adequately convey how horrifying and hilarious this museum was.  I entered through the turnstile and was greeted by a wax figurine scene of the Garden of Eden.  I wondered if I was going to see a retelling of the bible through wax figures.  In the Natural Bridge Welcome Center/Truck stop, they sell a lot of things like t-shirts, mugs, maps, you know, normal truck stop stuff, but they also have a religious book section.  Not so normal, well maybe not so normal for anywhere that's not southwestern VA.  And who knows, maybe "Jesus is Alive!" is a great title to have on hand when people are driving the long stretches of I-81.

They did not retell the whole bible, they retold SOME of the bible, and some select moments in Virginia/American history, with a loose grip on the context and facts of each event.  Some of my favorite things are below:

This eerie swinging man greets you when you first see the museum. Sets the tone.    

This crazy scene is supposed to be about digging for buried treasure, which is somehow a key event in Virginia's history that needed to be commemorated in wax.  Also, check out the possessed-looking kid in the cage thing. 

This is a poor photo of a scene depicting Virginia wildman "Bar" Trolley.  Bar doesn't mean the place where you drink, or the thing lawyers have to pass.  No no, it's this man's nickname because that's how they say the word "bear" this far south.  So a stuffed bear strangling a man nicknamed "Bar" because he fought said creature.  Note the crazy eyes on "Bar".  Could this be any more fantastic?  No.  

President Barack Obama?  Or Ceasar Chavez?

Ahhh, the piece de resistance.  They have a whole separate room for this scene, as well as an 8-minute narration which is a not-so-thinly-veiled gospel message.  They have a disclaimer on the door outside where you wait to go in for the show that says "this contains religious perspectives that you may not share" etc...  So it's the Last Supper, with a side of evangelism.  

Um, Thomas, I know you doubted, but is that gesture really necessary? WHAT  IS THIS?? 

That is really the question I kept asking myself.  Is this real?  Am I actually seeing what I'm seeing and hearing what I'm hearing?  At one point in the museum, as you turn a corner, they have a fake security guard who is supposed to scare you, but he would only do that if you were mostly blind.  And then a few more steps down the hall you hear a screeching sound and a spotlight shines on a stuffed bobcat above you.  Then a few more steps down the hall and you see a mountain man light up with his rifle aimed at the bobcat who yells something like "Git 'im" and then fires.  Then the bobcat screeches again.  I ask you, friends, how is this not on every Top Ten Things To Do in America list? 

Oh but there's more!  After getting my Gospel handed to me on a wax platter, I got to do the Factory tour on the basement level.   I thought the museum was pretty strange but the Factory was another level.  

No big deal.  Just some floating wax heads to greet you as you begin your tour.  

I don't even know what this is.  But it felt like it should be in a horror movie.  

As you leave, the gift shop displays partial thumbs and other imperfect wax body parts as souvenirs for sale.  Wow.  

Moving on, and wanting to cleanse my palate of what I had just seen, I headed down the stone steps to see the Natural Bridge, the whole reason for being in this interesting little corner of the world at all.  The lush spring green welcomed me back into its arms.  It's a short walk down to the bridge and you are greeted with a grand vista. 

There was actually a wedding going on at the base of the bridge on the far side.  Pretty neat idea.  I got to congratulate the bride and groom on my way to the Indian Village and Nature trail.  

Indian village arsenal. 

Waterfall reward for those who brave the .75 mile nature trail. 

So after finishing up my nature walk, I got in the car and pulled back on to 81 only about an hour from Roanoke.  Once I got to my hotel and cleaned up,  I went to the Fresh Market, bought supplies for the festival the next day, walked around the downtown area a bit, then fell asleep to a terrible Bruce Willis movie which was somehow exactly what I wanted.  King size beds are amazing! I don't even take up 1/3 of them but it's so luxurious to know that I could if I wanted to.  

I woke up very early the next morning to a steady rain.  I knew what the day would hold: bad weather and great music.  I had 2.5 hours in the car before I got to the festival.  My brother and dad were meeting me there.  It wasn't warm, but it wasn't cold and the rain was pretty light.  I had packed accordingly, with my best rain jacket and layers beneath it, a chair, snacks and water.  Getting to the festival site, I met up with the other two attendees, and we all boarded the school bus shuttle with our tennis shoes squeaking against the floor and the windows fogging up against the rain.

We arrived early to see the Avett Family Gospel hour.  My dad said he felt like he was back in Sunday school.  They sang things like "When the Roll is Called Up Yonder" and "Battle of Jericho".  It was a great family tribute and Scott and Seth joined their dad and sister on stage for a few songs.  The rain came down harder.    

Jim Avett et al.  

We took a break in the tent to let our umbrella rest and be able to eat without having our chips get soaked by the rain.  We then headed back out into the weather, each step my feet sinking deeper and deeper into well-trodden mud paths between the rows of seats.  We sat down under our umbrella and a tarp to hear the Kruger Brothers who played an astoundingly beautiful set.  They had written a piece called "Appalachian Concerto" which combines the best of Copeland-style classical Americana with the best of roots bluegrass.  These two German brothers, raised in Switzerland, have the souls of those born in the backwoods of North Carolina.   Uwe Kruger plays a masterful classical guitar, his brother Jens, an equal in skill, displays his talents on the banjo.  They teamed with a string quartet and through the rain played 4 movements of some of the more beautiful music I've heard in my life.  Maybe it was the setting, maybe it was the spring time, but I think for all those listening, our spirits rising against the rain, it was transcendent.  They also included a few of their own songs after the concerto, including the most gorgeous rendition of Sting's "Fields of Gold" that I have ever heard. And I have heard a lot, because I love that song.  I usually don't subscribe to the theory that covers can be better than the originals (with the big exception of almost any Bob Dylan song) but this breaks that.  I've heard Sting himself perform it on the lute, the LUTE for Pete's sake, and still this was more beautiful.

Excerpt from Appalachian Concerto performed by the Kruger Brothers and the Piedmont String Quartet.  

So after that we took a break and my brother and I went to the square dancing tent.  I was so wet and cold at this point that I could no longer feel my toes.  So being under a tent and moving around a bit was exactly what I needed.  The caller was a fantastic guy who apparently runs a family square dancing camp.  I made a mental note and if I ever have a family of my own, they better look out.  I will straight up recreate the summer from Dirty Dancing so fast they won't know what hit them.  

Then it was back into the rain for Tift Merrit, with a charming voice and an amazing pedal steel backup, she sang her way sweetly into my musical to-do list.  Before her, Blind Boy Paxton on steel guitar, after her, Pokey LaFarge and his sort of klezmer band.  Loved it.  Then the main event:  The Avett Brothers, main stage.  

One of the overwhelming themes of the day was the love that all the performers demonstrated and professed both in their songs and stage banter for the great state of North Carolina.  That's one of the themes for me from this trip too, that Virginia and NC are my roots, where I'm from, where my family is from, and that is important.  It is home.

The Avetts always bring passion and authenticity to every performance. I have given a lot of thought lately to how I would feel if I had to perform the same songs night after night to different people in different towns all wanting a great experience.  To me, the key is that the thing that you've produced, the thing that you are sharing, has to be something that is truly a part of you, that you feel it is necessary to share and that you believe in wholeheartedly.  Otherwise, no one's going to want it, and you'll burn out performing it so quickly.  I don't think this is anything the Avett's will ever struggle with though.  The songs they have written are pieces of their lives, and they believe they need to share them.  Their lyrics are deeply personal and relatable to everyone.  I could see Scott's face on the jumbotron and in close ups on certain songs, when relaying a particularly vivid lyric or detail, you could see that he was singing a part of his own personal story and that maybe it even hurt to sing it.  He was singing about things that caused him shame, but the message is absolutely one of hope, always hope.  I love watching people who are passionate and loving on stage, I love watching people who love what they do.  The Avetts' joy is infectious, and their message of hope undeniably uplifting.  I never leave a show of theirs without taking home good things to think about and joy in my heart.

We cut out a bit early, right after "Kick Drum Heart".  Dad was soaked to the skin and we wanted to beat the traffic out of town anyway.  I had a great day at Merlefest and I would absolutely go again. The performers were warm, personable, and the entire festival atmosphere was very different from what I've experienced up here in the DC area so many times.  There was a noticeable lack of competitive coolness, drunk people, and idiotic behavior.  Maybe it was the rain that kept the crazies either at bay or at home, but it was a really convivial, communal atmosphere.  Maybe next time I'll go to the Tribute Jam session.  The collaborative possibilities are endless and probably wonderful.

Then I headed back to my parent's house in Midlothian and rehashed the day with brother and father, and now mother, who had elected to stay at home but was there waiting for us when we all came back. Home.  What a beautiful thing it is.  After a weekend on the road, it is nice to be back in my little home a bit further north. But I learned a lot this weekend, and have many wonderful memories tucked away that I will revisit often.  Thanks for reading, folks.  See you again real soon.