Day 41 -- Colonial Williamsburg -- 12 Miles

Today we drove fewer than a dozen miles, but on the plus side, we walked -- according to Concetta's pedometer -- 12,769 steps. Dang! My feet certainly hurt tonight, but we just had a wonderful time touring Colonial Williamsburg. The hoped-for sunshine, which the weather report said we had an 80% chance of seeing, appeared sporadically all day long. I'm convinced that the sun was just trying to torture me. Usually it popped through the clouds and stayed just long enough for me to notice, whip the camera to my eye, swivel around looking to frame a shot of whatever was handy. But before I could find a good subject the yellow orb was once again concealed by clouds. I took 367 photos today and I bet no more than 5% were in sunlight.

The reason we didn't drive much today was because of the proximity of our KOA camp. The camp is pricey, but it has all the bells and whistles to attract every member of the family, from play yards for the kids, to a swimming pool. You can even buy your Williamsburg entrance tickets at the camp, which saves you about 10%

This morning the plan was to try and see all the craftsmen and women we'd missed last time, like the printer, and only re-visit shops we'd done before if we ran out of new things. Well, we didn't run out of new things for the entire day. We saw everything from the cobbler to the wheelwright, and from the weaver to the tinsmith. We saw a cabinet shop, a joinery shop, and a basketmaker. We didn't see any butcher or baker, but we did watch a few minutes of the candlestick maker.

In 2014 we desperately wanted to eat in a restaurant serving period food. After reading all the literature two years ago we decided on the "King's Arms Tavern." Well, let's just say we failed in that attempt and ended up eating some yucky food from a snack shop. This year we took the precaution of making a couple of peanut butter sandwiches to take in our day pack, but we were determined to eat at the King's Arms Tavern no matter what. This meant we had to show up before the doors opened and then insinuate ourselves into the group close to the door to make sure we were in the first batch called to enter.

The plan worked wonderfully. And, that wasn't all. To our astonishment one of the women waiting along with us spoke up when the girl wanted to know who had been there first and pointed to us. We were consequently the first people through the door. Amazing!

We were so glad that we'd made the effort to arrive early. We got a nice two-person table by a south-facing window looking out on the garden. Concetta ordered the pot roast and a glass of sparkling cider. I had the Northfolk Pottage Pie and a mug of nut brown ale. Just to be wild and crazy I ordered peppermint ice cream and black coffee for desert.

At first we were a little apprehensive about our seating location, because shortly after we sat down a whole troop of youngsters filed into the room directly opposite where we were sitting. There must have been eighteen or twenty of them. But to our undying gratitude, the chaperones with this particular group did a fantastic job and kept excellent control the whole time we ate.

After lunch I wanted our first goal to be visiting the print shop. We missed what is always my very favorite vintage business when we toured in 2014. That year we got to the shop so late in the day that the printer had locked up and gone home. I wasn't about to make that mistake again. Thankfully, the print shop was just across the street from the King's Arms Tavern, and we skipped right over there after our delicious meal

As you've read in these pages before, the years I spent as a printer count as my very favorite in all of my work history. There's just something about the creativity of it that captured me and won't let go. So, even though I will probably never work in a print shop again, I can't resist taking every opportunity to visit a working shop whenever one is available. In 1974 when I was working at Sierra Nevada Printing we had equipment that was nearly a century old. Today I figured we'd see printing equipment that would be at least a century older than that. I wasn't disappointed

Though the printer possessed quite a wry sense of humor, he was just a font of information about everything printing.

All the while he was talking he was printing page after page on his Ben Franklin-style, single-impression "press." In the chase was three pages of handset type. When the printer had applied ink to these lines of type with a couple of leather-covered daubers, he proceeded to push one sheet of fine book paper over a couple of registration pins to keep it in place, then he swung a frisket into place on the tympan to protect the paper where ink was not wanted, then he lowered the whole assemblage onto the bed of the printer called the coffin. After that he hand-cranked the bed under the platen, and pulled a couple of times on a heavy bar that cranked the platen down hard against the paper, forcing the paper against the inked type faces.

Once the printer had finished his signature of three book pages on the one sheet of paper, he carefully removed the sheet from the bed of the printer and layed it on a pile. The printing of the one sheet had taken about three or four minutes, including the inking of the type. Easy to see why it took so long to print anything in the 18th century. Then, while still explaining the printing process to Concetta and me and a few other folks who had wandered in, the printer started the process over again. Ben Franklin would have marveled at today's high-speed printing where they turn out 500 sheets in the time it took him to print perhaps a half dozen.

After the printing demonstration, we headed off in search of the cooper's shop and the brickyard. When we arrived at the cooper's shop we were impressed and surprised to see that the craftsperson in residence was a woman. Our visit was about to get really interesting. After questioning her about barrel construction techniques, Concetta couldn't stand it any longer and just had to ask her about the prevalence of women in the barrel-making business. During the course of her explanation, we discovered that she was originally from, of all places, Nevada City, California, just over the hill from where we live in Nevada.

Though we really didn't get to watch her make a barrel, we did learn a lot about how coopers made barrel hoops, what sort of wood they used to make the staves, and what sort of tools she employed to do her job, including a very large broad axe that I talked her into bringing out to the shop entrance to demonstrate how she used it.

After we left the Cooper Shop, we headed for the brickyard. Now, while we'd seen demonstrations on barrel-making before, we had never witnessed what went into brick making. This time we definitely got our money's worth. For the first time since we arrived in Colonial Williamsburg, we were actually watching the entire brick-making process prior to when the bricks get fired in the ovens. Since the newly-made bricks have to dry in the sun for several days before firing, we didn't get to see the oven part.

Everyone's favorite part of the brick process was when the apprentice got down in a large trough area and squished around with his feet to mix the water and clay to the proper consistency. Once that was done, the apprentice reached down and grabbed a "wad" of clay about the size of a volley ball, and took it to the master brick maker. Once the brick maker had enough clay on his table, then the apprentice would return to his side to assist in brick making.

The brick maker had a form that allowed him to make two bricks at once. Before handing the form over to the brick maker, the apprentice would "roll" the brick form in dry sand to make sure the bricks would release from the form at the proper time. Once the brick maker had the form on his work table, he would grab a ball of clay about the size of a large cantaloupe and plop it into one side of the form. Then he would repeat the process a second time. Once the clay was globbed into the form, he'd grab a brick bat and run it across the top of the form box. This removed excess clay.

At this point the apprentice would grab the heavy, clay-filled form and carry it over to the drying yard. Carefully, he'd roll the form upside down and the new bricks would land on the drying surface. Then the apprentice would go back for another load, first dusting the form with sand.

The master brick maker told us that right where we stood watching him make bricks, they had made literally thousands and thousands of bricks for the Williamsburg villege sidewalks, walls, and other restoration projects.

I kind of wondered how he was going to get red bricks for restoration work when the clay they were using was a yellow brown color. But he told us that when fired the clay tuned a soft redish color and the more it was baked the redder it got. Finally, if they really baked it a long time the bricks would come out nearly black.

By this time Concetta and I were beginning to get a little footsore, but we soldiered on and visited a wheelwright, a tinsmith, a blacksmith, and a leather goods shop. I took a bunch more photos, of course, but I'm going to have to call it a night at this point. suffice it to say, that Concetta and I were definitely in heaven here at Colonial Williamsburg. We just love all the cottage crafts that have spawned such wonderful experts. Tomorrow we're not certain what direction we will be headed. We want to go to Philadelphia and see all that great "birth of the country" stuff like the liberty bell. I'm also hoping that we'll stumble over Ben Franklin's print shop. So until next time, we wish you Happy Traveling!