May 22, 2001. Charles City to Ashland, Virginia. (55 mi.) Mile 123
The Civil War remembered
The books tell us that this section of the route is noted for the high number
of scenic, historic plantations and squashed 'possums per mile.....well, maybe
they didn't mention the 'possums. It was sunny and humid as we rode through open
country and dense deciduous woods, past many historic plantations and Civil War
landmarks.
1) 
2) 
3) 
1) Morning behind the Indian
Field Tavern, where we hoped the silo would act as a lightening rod in the
previous night's storm.
2) Turtle Relocating - a TransAm Tradition
3) One of many plantations.
At the Cold Harbor Civil War
Battlefield, we stopped. Marilyn's great-great
grandfather, Charles Tuesley, was here in June, 1864, during General Grant's
disastrous assault on General Lee's Confederate troops. The battle at Cold
Harbor was one of the bloodiest American battles ever; over 18,000 casualties,
mostly Union, with 7,000 casualties within 3 hours. Grant was latter criticized
for ordering such a useless sacrifice of life in the face of an enemy so heavily
entrenched. Today there is little left to indicate the days of ferocious
fighting and carnage that took place over many miles of this now peaceful area,
unless you take a trail through the thick woods. The terrain, now covered in
leaf mold, is still shaped by the extensive hand-dug trenches and rifle pits
where the soldiers spent many miserable hours, sometimes their last. You can
step over the small creek that once ran red with blood, and get a small hint of
the fear and
horror that occurred here during the battle.
Trenches dug by Confederate soldiers
June 1864 at the Cold Harbor Battlefield are still visible in these haunted
woods.
Whatever went through Charles Tuesley's 22 year old mind as he followed
Grant's bloody campaign into the South, it was surely not that someday a
great-great granddaughter would ride by on a bicycle on a trip across the
country, contemplate his company's movements on a map with an interpretive
ranger, and post these musings and his picture on something called the Internet.
He may have wondered if he would even survive to have a great-great
granddaughter, but I am glad he did.
We arrived at our Americamp campground in Ashland late. Like most private
American campgrounds, this one is a lot like a gravel parking lot with trees,
usually located next to a) a freeway, b) a railroad track, or c) a teenage party
destination. Since there was a tornado warning for the area, we were assigned a
shelter next to the freeway where the trucks used their compression brakes all
night. There wasn't a drop of rain nor a puff of wind all night. The weather
warning was a night too late. At least we've appreciated the showers, laundry,
and computer data port if not any sleep.
