Harpers Ferry, Wine Country, Then D.C.

Harpers Ferry, as seen from the Amtrak station

Our last morning in the Shenandoah Valley was crisp and clear, with the traces of fall adding a dose of urgency to the balmy weather. We followed the river north directly through the valley’s center. At Front Royal, northern entrance to the national park, we stopped for coffee and wrap sandwiches. The town has a well-kept downtown.

Soon we reached the easternmost town in West Virginia - Harpers Ferry (the apostrophe is optional). Most of the town is now protected as Harpers Ferry National Historic Park. We walked up and stepped right onto a tour bus that breezed us along the two-mile road to the old town.

It was a revelation, a truly unique place built into the steep hills where the Shenandoah runs into the Potomac. The town had a terraced look, with warped staircases leading further into its heights.

John Brown's fort

Harpers Ferry might not be an obvious place to visit. The history is immense, the geography is stunning. George Washington recommended it as a sight for a national armory. Settled due to its strategic location, it was home to the armory which drew abolitionist John Brown and his raiders to attack in 1859, pushing simmering Civil War tensions to a boil.

The town changed hands eight times during the war. Sitting at the junction of Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia, housing an armory and an important river confluence make it an obvious military target.

After, it became a rallying point for African-Americans, home to Storey College and a famous gathering of W.E.B. Dubois’ Niagara Movement. Floods and the Great Depression dealt Harpers Ferry a crippling blow and most of the town became part of the national historic park in 1944.

Above the railroad, the rock face is still paint with a a faded, century-old sign for Mennen’s Borated Talcum Toilet Powder. The Potomac rumbles past, its roiling waters filled with strong currents and plenty of rocky patches. Support beams from absent bridges still broke through the waters.

The Appalachian Trail passes directly through the town, one of the rare places where the 2,100-mile trail runs directly through a populated place. Anyone taking the pedestrian bridge across into Maryland is walking on the trail. At this late juncture in 2014, it is unlikely there were through-hikers with designs on reaching Katahdin this year. We took the trail across the railroad bridge into Maryland, where it quickly became deserted.

Craggy heights across the Maryland border

Many of the buildings have been well-kept although not all buildings pertinent to John Brown’s Raid still stand. The most important is the engine house, where Brown and his raiders holed up until U.S. Army forces overwhelmed them (the engine house has been moved, reassembled many times, so it isn't considered fully authentic, but it's close enough). At the point the rivers meet, people in period clothing spoke about the town’s history.

Aside from unexpected weekday crowds, most signs of fall had not arrived in Harpers Ferry. The reds of yellows dominating Shenandoah were barely present and there was little chill in the air.

The shops and restaurants were all quite active. A number of stores sold handcrafted jewelry and other artisanal items.

At the catholic church, which is still in use and not part of the park, we spotted a re-enactor playing with a friendly cat. When they finished, Nancy quickly got the cat to trot our way. We each took turns giving the kitty back rubs and tail scratches, then watched it go and stand guard over the church’s courtyard.

Nancy and her new friend

Taking the shuttle back, we watched the river curve away and saw the ruins of Harpers Ferry's industrial past, including an old canal. As we drove away, a small deer herd of grazed near near the entrance. Only that night did I realize that by not following the path past the church, we missed the view from Jefferson Rock, where Thomas Jefferson looked out on the rivers’ confluence in 1783.

We had tasted Virginia wine, but we had not experienced wine country. Crossing the Shenandoah one more time, we reentered Virginia and took some deserted country roads to find Bogati Bodega in nearby Round Hill. They had an interesting lineup of wines with some grapes seldom seen outside Europe. We left with bottles of Seyval Blanc and Touriga Nacional. We also visited Bogati’s sister winery, Veramar. We left with a bottle of Mourvedre, our case of Virginia wine starting to look quite full (spoiler- it would not stay that way).

Nancy did the driving into D.C. , which dragged once we got within about five miles of the city. Arlington’s mid- and high-rise buildings huddled around the interstate. At the gap between them sat the Americana Hotel.

Our room had been recently renovated (except for the exquisitely tiled bathroom, which needed no makeover). The lobby had such an authentic early 1960s look that it would not have been surprising if Don Draper or Roger Thornhill waiting to conduct business with a D.C. client. Our mileage for the day was not overly impressive. But a stone’s throw from D.C., the city fades into rough river valleys, jagged mountains and vine-covered foothills just as historic.

The Potomac River east of Harpers Ferry