The Shenandoah Valley

I started my day at a leisurely pace, making the decision to get off of the Interstate for a while. From Knoxville, I took US 11, which dovetails with Tennessee 1, the first state road in Tennessee. I thought this might be a good way to follow the likely route of early settlers, although it was constructed 100 years or more after my people would have come through there. I made a couple of stops in Kingsport, which is quite a charming little town along the Holston River. It has a beautiful green belt along the river, as well as a branch of the Abingdon Olive Oil Company, which was the purpose of the detour. Kef had purchased some olive oils at the Art of Oil in Boone a few years back. Although Boone wasn't on my route, this place was. So I stopped in to pick up some "necessities." Finally, I added the nearest Zaxby's to my route before heading on to Virginia.

The purpose of my shorter trek today was to stand on ancestral lands. By getting off of the major highway, I was able to see the land a little more closely to how my ancestors saw it. However, the Gay family largely left Virginia by the late 1700's and moved on to Blount County, Tennessee, and then later some to Texas. So when they passed through, there probably weren't many farms that looked like this.


Part of my mission today was to visit land owned by my 6- and 7-greats grandfathers. That's going back a ways! This took me right through the Shenandoah Valley to my home for the night in Lexington.

William Gay (6th great) and his brother Samuel were deeded this land in 1749 by William Beverley via the Colonial Land Patents... before the Revolutionary War, before Virginia was even a state. Their father had land even before that, a little further north on an inlet of the Calf Pasture River called "Gay's Run." The story in the county history book tells us that someone misread "Gay" for "Guy" and even today it is still mis-named "Guys Run."



Today, the Little Calf Pasture River (a tributary of the Calf Pasture River, so named, because, well... it went through the calf pasture) has been dammed to create Lake Merriweather, owned by the Boy Scouts of America. They were kind enough to allow me to come on to their camp property and take pictures. I thought it was fitting that as you entered Camp Olmstead on what was William Gay's (6th great grandfather) brother Samuel's land, you begin to see signs of qualities that they probably highly valued themselves... trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent.


At approximately the point where Samuel's land ended and my William's began stands Chapel Hill. Reverent. His great-great-grandson would be Rev. John Preston Gay, my mother's great-grandfather.


You can see approximately where my 6 great grandfather's land was on both sides of the Little Calf Pasture, if you just imagine the lake in the background is just a small river. The area in the foreground on this side, plus the wooded area on the other side. I think William Gay would be glad that his land is being used to promote these ideals. I hope the young men are learning them well.

I could say more about the family stuff, but that would probably bore you so I won't. Oh, wait. One more picture... Kerr's Creek is where William Gay (7th great grandfather) died. I drove through there too. Apparently there were troubles with Native Americans there. I can't say I'm surprised. I think I would have created trouble too if some strangers came and stole my land. But that's our history, so there it is. (Don't know if you can read this, but it's about these conflicts.)


Well the day was running out, and the dogs were ready for me to stop taking pictures and get on with it. So we headed on to our Airbnb for the night, where Meg promptly tried to kill herself by plunging headlong down this rock wall.


I really didn't think it was going to be a problem when the lady told me about it before I booked. I guess I wasn't really picturing it correctly. But, anyway... the first thing Meg did was start down it, and then gravity did the rest. I'm lucky she didn't break her neck. She'll probably be sore tomorrow, but she's sleeping peacefully at the moment.

Tomorrow, home to Albany!

Oh, one other observation I've had over the past couple of days. The backbone of this country has to be truckers and farmers. Without those truckers filling every inch of every Interstate with every conceivable thing we could want or need, we'd be lost. Without those farmers filling most of the available land with good crops, we'd be mighty hungry and naked. Just sayin'.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Curiouser and Curiouser

Epworth

Wherefore Art Thou, Cappleman?