Day 42 -- Williamsburg to Gordonsville, Virginia -- 117 Miles

Today didn't turn out anything like we envisioned. As usual we got up this morning knowing we were leaving Williamsburg, Virginia, but not having any idea what direction we would be taking, nor where we might be camping next. Once I sat down with the map, after breakfast and just before we were to roll out, I decided that perhaps we could go north on Interstate 64 until we hit Virginia Route 33. From Route 33 we jog a little to the northeast, then take Route 17 towards Fredericksburg. If we took Interstate 64 all the way to Richmond, I reasoned, we would be battling pretty heavy traffic all the way. But if we took the Route 33 turnoff, we'd be on rural roads for most of the day.

With that tentative plan in mind, we got rolling about 10:00 a.m., about an hour later then usual, and were soon charging northwest on Intestate 64. That's when two things happened. First, we started talking about the fact that we had never done any sightseeing in Richmond and there certainly must be a few things worth seeing there. And then I realized, as we approached our turnoff for Route 33, that we had taken that precise route last time we were in Willimasburg, presumably for the same reasons.

Well that did it. Concetta started looking up attractions on her IPhone and I zoomed right on by Route 33 as we headed into the mythic heart of the southern Confederacy, Richmond, Virginia. It didn't take long before we decided that the most fitting thing to do in Richmond, was visit the site of the Southern White House during the Civil War. That's where Jeff Davis (no relation) made his home, and that's perhaps where we could get to know him better. If you've been reading the blog since our last RV sojourn, you know that in 2014 we visited Jefferson Davis' last home near Biloxi, Mississippi. This was where Davis eventually went after his two years in federal prison once the war had ended.

"From Wikipedia I learned that "On May 19, 1865, Davis was imprisoned in a casemate at Fortress Monroe on the coast of Virginia. Irons were riveted to his ankles at the order of General Nelson Miles who was in charge of the fort. Davis was allowed no visitors, and no books except the Bible. He became sicker, and the attending physician warned that his life was in danger, but this treatment continued for some months until late autumn when he was finally given better quarters. General Miles was transferred in mid-1866, and Davis' treatment continued to improve."

"Varina [Davis' wife] and their young daughter Winnie were allowed to join Davis, and the family was eventually given an apartment in the officers' quarters. Davis was indicted for treason while imprisoned; one of his attorneys was ex-Governor Thomas Pratt of Maryland. There was a great deal of discussion in 1865 about bringing treason trials, especially against Jefferson Davis, but there was no consensus in President Johnson's cabinet to do so."

"There were no treason trials against anyone, as it was felt they would probably not succeed and would impede reconciliation. After two years of imprisonment, Davis was released on bail of $100,000, which was posted by prominent citizens including Horace Greeley, Cornelius Vanderbilt and Gerrit Smith. (Smith was a former member of the Secret Six who had supported abolitionist John Brown.) Davis went to Montreal, Canada to join his family which had fled there earlier, and lived in Lennoxville, Quebec, also visiting Cuba, and Europe in search of work. Davis remained under indictment until he was released from all liability by the presidential amnesty issued by Johnson on December 25, 1868."

The Jefferson Davis family lived in the Richmond Whitehouse from the beginning of the Civil War -- our guide today said -- right through to the end of the war when Robert E. Lee came to them and said that he could no longer defend the city and that the Davis family should move south.

Again from Wikipedia we learn that: "On April 3, with Union troops under Ulysses S. Grant poised to capture Richmond, Davis escaped to Danville, Virginia, together with the Confederate Cabinet, leaving on the Richmond and Danville Railroad. Lincoln sat in Davis' Richmond office just 40 hours later. William T. Sutherlin turned over his mansion, which served as Davis' temporary residence from April 3 to April 10, 1865. On about April 12, Davis received Robert E. Lee's letter announcing surrender. He issued his last official proclamation as president of the Confederacy, and then went south to Greensboro, North Carolina."

"President Davis met with his Confederate Cabinet for the last time on May 5, 1865, in Washington, Georgia, and officially dissolved the Confederate government. The meeting took place at the Heard house, the Georgia Branch Bank Building, with 14 officials present. Along with their hand-picked escort led by Given Campbell, Jefferson and Varina were captured by Union forces on May 10 at Irwinville in Irwin County, Georgia."

But today we got to see what life was like when the Davis family was the center of the Confederate world. The mansion we toured was constructed in 1818 and had gone through four owners before the city of Richmond bought it and leased it to Jefferson Davis. Unfortunately, the private non-profit that owns the property now does not allow photographs, but I can tell you that the interior is not ornate and gaudy as you might expect of a southern aristocrat, but was sumptuous and tasteful throughout. The interior consists of four floors, including the walk-in basement on the non street side. In Jefferson Davis' time the kitchen was a two-story structure out in the yard, but there was a space in the basement called the "warming room" where food could be reheated.

Jefferson Davis and Varina, had four boys and two girls and so there was ample space inside the four-story structure for children. Unfortunately, all four boys died young, as well as one of the girls. Except for one boy who died from a fall from one of the home's balconies, the rest of the children died from various diseases.

The most astounding fact we learned about the Jefferson Davis white house is that somewhere around 75% of the current furnishings are original to the house, even though all were auctioned off after the war. Only three items were left in the house that dated to the original owner/builder in 1818. These are two magnificent six-foot statues of the Greek figures of Comedy and Tragedy, as well as one marble fireplace mantle. Everything else was gone by the time the building became a school in later years.

Over time people have come forward with bits and pieces of the house's history, including a massive dining room table, a dining room sideboard, and Jeff Davis' favorite rocker. Our tour guide told us that as late as two years ago a matched set of large vases came back and now adorn the parlor. She also told us that were it not for a trio of influential and wealthy Richmond ladies, the house would have been reduced to rubble to make way for a newer building. The ladies bought the building from the city, then formed a private non-profit organization to see to its maintenance.

Nowadays, you can find a fabulous three story museum right next door to the Confederate White House. Here you will see, not just generic mementos of the war, but the actual property of famous Confederate leaders like Stonewall Jackson, Thomas Hunt Morgan, and J.E.B. Stuart (his desk and other property photo left). They even had Robert E. Lee's personal hat (photo below right), among hundreds of equally priceless heirlooms of the war. Although we didn't stay as long as we wanted, we certainly enjoyed ourselves in the museum. By the time we left, it was already getting pretty late in the day and we had to put a few miles on the rig before dark. Someday we'll have to come back to Richmond and do some further exploring of this fabulous museum.

Finding the museum is pretty easy, but parking can be the problem. As we approached Richmond we trusted out GPS to get us to Clay Street in the heart of old Richmond. And, as we rolled into the downtown area, it looked as though she -- the voice is female -- had done a fine job of guiding us to the correct address.

But alas, we were premature. As we got to Clay Street, the GPS announced that we needed to make an immediate left turn, and then we would arrive at our desired address. But two problems immediately presented themselves: first, there were two big red signs posted on the street corners that established in no uncertain terms the fact that no cars were allowed on that portion of Clay Street;

second, even if they had allowed cars, there was no way something as big as a thirty-one foot RV would be able to turn onto the street and find any parking, let alone turn around on what turned out to be a short, dead-end street.

Fortunately, I noticed the problems BEFORE I turned left, and instead turned right onto Clay, an impossibly narrow, but still navigable street that we used to drive a couple of blocks north where we found an largely empty parking lot capable of accommodating the rig.

Once we had parked we walked all over the lot trying to figure out if it was one lot, owned by one person whom we could pay in advance to keep from being towed, or several different owners. When we failed to ascertain with confidence that the one pay station off to the west of where we'd parked was actually meant for us, we still went ahead and bought three hours and stuck the receipt on the front window. As extra insurance, I hauled out the "Club" and affixed it to the steering wheel hoping that it might deter a tow truck driver. Then we gathered up our packs and cameras and set off.

The rest you know. We had a fine couple of hours exploring Confederate history, and when we hoofed it the four blocks back to the rig about 1:30 p.m., it was still right where we left it. It truly beats me that in this day and age of countless folks traveling by RV, why more cities seem to be oblivious to the need for substantially larger parking areas for said vehicles.

When we got back to the rig we had our lunch, yesterday's peanut butter backup sandwiches that we didn't eat in Williamsburg. Still, peanut butter and jelly and a great cup of coffee is what I love when I go hiking in Southern California, so the sandwiches tasted great to me today. Concetta didn't seem to mind them, either.

During lunch we picked out a camp near President James Madison's boyhood home of Gordonsville, Virginia. We put in the final disk of our five-disk set of international intrigue and set off. Before long we had eaten up the fifty miles or so, and were pulling into the camp, or so said Ms GPS. Trouble was, the gate guard wanted to know if we had a reservation. And if we didn't have one, he'd have to ask us to turn around and get the heck out of there. AND, he said, you had to have made the reservation online or with a specific off-property booking agency.

Well, this was the very first time we'd run into this sort of snooty behavior. But we dutifully pulled through the gate, turned around and left -- well, not quite left. We pulled just down the road and called the camp to see what in the heck was up. As it turned out, the camp had become a Time Share and only the owners and "guests" were allowed inside now. But, the lady on the phone said, if we'd take a gravel site instead of the posh concrete sites (which came complete with stainless steel barbecue grills) she'd be happy to rent us one for a measly $50.00 plus tax. If we were interested she'd call the gate guard and tell him to let us in.

Not wanting to disappoint the lady on the phone, I told her that would be fine and we'd see her shortly. Thereafter, the gate guard let us pass, we motored down to the "lodge," and I presented myself to the front desk lady, amid a slew of rather smartly-dressed vacationers. Initially I think she intended not to smile at me, so I had to pump up the charm level. Before I left she warmed a bit to me. In fact, she told me with as large a smile as she could muster, that she was giving me a campsite right on the lake if that was alright. I told her it was, and off I went fifty-three dollars and some odd cents poorer, but secure in the knowledge that I wouldn't have to be searching for a new camp this night.

My last stop before leaving the lodge was with Savannah, a perfectly charming young black woman who intended to try and talk me into gracing their morning tour designed for guests interested in buying a time share. I told her I would think about it, and she said she'd be calling me on the phone to encourage me. Savannah was the friendliest face in the room, which made me wish we needed a timeshare.

Our camp, as you can see from the photos, is located in what appears to be a currently little-used section of the mega-plex the time share folks are crafting here. The spaces are pretty good, though not quite up to modern standards, a condition I suspect they will remedy before long.

So there you are. Serendipity saw us through yet again, though this is the very first time we've had to crash the party to find a place to lay our heads. We started the day not knowing where we were going, traveled in a direction we've never traveled, through cities we've never visited, and arrived at a camp that doesn't cater to drop-ins, but where we got to stay anyway. I'd say things are just allllllright. Should you decide to take your act on the road, we wish you the same serendipity in your travels. And a great big Happy Travels to you!