The Fate Of Prince William, Duke of Cumberland (A Cautionary Tale)

Prince William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland

As a resident of the Eastern Seaboard of the United States, I find myself surrounded by reminders of my country’s relationship with the British Empire.  These reminders usually take the form of place names which have decidedly British-sounding names, such as King George’s County, Jamestown, Prince George’s County, etc…  Nowadays, most of the people inhabiting these places have no idea who they are named after.  Not so with your humble author, who enjoys looking up the details of those who have traveled before him.

My wife on a recent excursion, with Prince William Forest on her right

Which brings us to Prince William, Duke of Cumberland.  Among other things, he is the namesake for the county in which I live and the forest along the county’s southern border.  I pedal past Prince William Forest on the majority of my rides and have even ridden along the park’s roads once or twice.  When I do so, I often think of the prince’s story.

Born in 1721 as the second son to King George II, William had a lot going for him.  He was a bright student and was educated by some very prominent tutors of his day.  He was reportedly his parents’ favorite child.  I suspect he was pleased to learn at the age of ten that a county had been named after him in the colony of Virginia.  After dabbling with the navy, he convinced his parents that a career in the army would be best for him and he was made a major general at the age of 21.

Life was good for William.  He was bright, well-loved, fabulously wealthy, very popular with the citizenry for much of his life, and (despite some notable defeats) was generally considered to be a good officer.

Prince William suffered a stroke at the age of 44.  A few months later, he died of a heart attack.  A glance at the prince’s portrait will provide a clue as to the cause of death – the man was obese.

Why such a successful man should let himself go to this extent is not precisely recorded.  Some reports suggested he had a life-long battle with obesity.  Others refer to the “profligate lifestyle” he led after his ignominious defeat (and subsequent resignation from the Army at age 36) during The Seven Years War.  Still other references hint that a wound suffered at the age of 22 during the Battle of Dettingen kept him from enjoying a more vigorous lifestyle.  Whatever the cause, this much is clear: the man was fat and it ended his life decades before his expected lifespan and no amount of titles, wealth, prestige, education, or achievement could overcome that fact.

Prince William didn’t own a bicycle.  That invention was still a ways off during his day.  Fortunately for me, I have a couple of bikes and they have been very helpful in warding off the condition which proved to be William’s undoing.  As I pedal past Prince William Forest, I often ponder this fact and find that I am more motivated to continue the ride than before.

In the words of Fizzhogg, “Eat better.  Ride your bike.”

Signal Hill

I wasn’t going to ride today because rain was forecasted and I wasn’t interested in all the muss attendant to a ride in the rain the day before heading to Virginia Beach.  However, the skies cleared in the morning and by early afternoon the sun was out.  It was time to investigate Signal Hill.

Located in the southeastern portion of Manassas, Signal Hill is not a terribly impressive piece of topography.  Once upon a time, it was probably a gentle hill from which signals could be given (radio or semaphore, depending on the age).  Today, it is a suburb, but the road which bears its name encouragingly leads toward some rural areas.  Perhaps I had found a pleasant bypass to the Prince William Parkway.  It was time to find out.

These Canadians have not yet decided to move north.

Before reaching Signal Hill, I decided to double my pleasure by venturing down Buckhall Road.  This required a brief portage of my bike from Lake Jackson road to the end of Burkhall Road – a distance of about 50 feet through some waist-high cat tails and over a guard rail.  This sort of road design is quite common around here.  It is an obvious attempt to keep traffic on the main roads and away from the housing areas.  It is very frustrating when trying to find new and interesting ways to get about.

Buckhall Road

Buckhall Road was a pleasant, if short, country lane.  If it was three or four miles long instead of barely one, it would have been fantastic.  As it was, I contented myself with several pleasant views and pondering the existence of a Sikh Community Center in such a place.  Before I had time to settle in, I had reached the Prince William Parkway, which I needed to cross to get on with my ride.

This is the view shortly before the end of Buckhall Road:

In short order, I was pedalling through suburbia and in no time I was at Signal Hill Road, which turned out to be quite hilly (which was expected, given the name of the place) and quite busy (which was a disappointment).  My failure was complete when the road gave way to one of the interminable gravel roads that seem to pop up in the most inconvenient of places around here.  I doubled back and eventually found my way to the parkway and onward to Davis Ford Road, a route which I regularly take.

Signal Hill Road

Ten miles later I was home.  With each attempt to find new routes around my area, I have greater empathy with the explorers who searched for the Northwest Passage.  I took stock of my year-to-date progress and was pleasantly surprised to find myself 185 miles further with eight additional rides compared to the quarter-point of last year.  Here’s hoping I can keep up the pace for the next nine months.  For now, though, it’s off to the beach and some of the flattest cycling routes you will ever find!

Leesylvania State Park

Today’s ride was not for the meek.  The temperature warmed to a little over freezing and winds were gusting over 35 mph.  On a day this cold, I’d ordinarily go for a run or find an excuse to sit about the house.  Since the winter has been so mild this year, I felt obligated to get in at least one “freezing weather” ride.  So with the wind chill near 24 degrees, I bundled up and headed out on one of my rare forays east of Route 1.

The flags of the USA, Virginia, and Prince William County snapping in the wind over Garfield Police Station

If you consider that water tends to be at the lowest nearby point, you will quickly discern from the map that my initial route took me downhill.  Those nasty winds were coming from the northwest, meaning they were at my back as well.  Yippee.  With almost no effort, I was averaging 19.5 mph when I reached the stop light at Route 1.  Of course, I would be paying for this enjoyment later, but lets not rush the story.

Traces of ice indicate the temperature

Leesylvania State Park was much as I left it 13 months ago when I last visited.  There were a few brave souls out for hikes and one person towing his boat from the storage area.  I can only imagine what he was hoping to accomplish in this weather.  I pulled to a stop near the boat launch and took some pics of the water.  I couldn’t see anyone else on the shore or in the water.  During the summer, I would be sharing this view with a few thousand people.  I tried to appreciate that fact while not concerning myself with the question, “what do those several thousand people know which you don’t?”

On my way out, I paused to take some pics of a grand railroad bridge across Powells Creek where it joins the Potomac River.  You can see the railroad line on the map at the top of this post.  It’s the major line along the East Coast, carrying commuters from points South up to DC.  It also handles Amtrak routes from Florida to Maine.

Good Times

Rather than simply returning on the route I started on, I opted to explore Powells Landing, which is presumably named after the same Mr. or Mrs. Powell as Powells Creek.  I could confirm none of this as the history of the place seems to be a well kept secret, both online and in the immediate area.  I did learn that Powells Creek is part of a watershed that runs through Lake Montclair (where I live), Lake Terrapin, and all the way past the county landfill.  It is reportedly one of the most virbrant natural wetlands in all of Northern Virginia.  So we’ve got that going for us, which is nice.

I pedaled toward a street with the hopeful name of Panorama Drive, but found it to be a bit of a misnomer.  There were glimpses of the creek and the same railroad bridge, but it was hardly “panoramic.”  I had traveled 14 miles at this point and the cold was beginning to seep into me.  It was time to go home.

Uphill.

Against the wind.

Let me just say for the record that riding uphill for six miles against a steady 25 mph wind with gusts around 35 mph on a freezing day was not enjoyable for me.  I was pleased to be done with this ride.  Although it was only 20 miles long, it felt harder than many 40 milers I have done.

Calendar Contest Update!  Thank you very much to those of you who have “liked” my photos in the Revolutions Bicycle Store calendar contest.  As of this writing, my top three pics (all with 20 “likes”) are in 6th place.  There are seven photos within striking distance, so the issue remains in doubt.  Voting continues until Wednesday, so if you’re inclined to vote and demonstrate to the entire world that we are incredibly awesome people, I’d be obliged.  You can vote here, and my pics are 100 through 104.

Gloom Period

At my alma mater, the time immediately after the holidays was known as “Gloom Period.”  Everyone had to return from their holiday vacation and settle back into reality, which meant lots of studying, marching, and being cold – usually under gray skies while living and working in gray buildings while wearing gray uniforms.

It was pretty dreary.

This weekend’s cold weather broke up an otherwise mild winter. With a little luck, it will be the closest thing to a Gloom Period I experience this year.  In an attempt to capture the spirit of this period, I have presented pictures from today’s ride in black and white.

During Gloom Period, it’s always nice to visit spots that remind you of the warm months ahead.  I therefore stopped by Pfitzner Stadium, home of the Potomac Nationals baseball club.  The “P-Nats” play in the Class A Carolina League and their stadium seats 6,000 people.  It’s generally regarded as one of the worst stadiums in the league.  Fun Fact:  Washington Nationals phenom Bryce Harper skipped Potomac on his was up to Class AAA because management was concerned he would injure himself on the poorly maintained field.

Close to the stadium, I came upon this small family cemetery.  These small plots harken back to a day when this area was very rural.  As urban sprawl has taken over, these small cemeteries dot the landscape, sometimes in the strangest of locations (like the one in front of a nearby Ikea furniture store).  I hope Mr. Metherell (deceased, 1947) does not mind his once-secluded resting place is now 50 feet from the Prince William County Parkway.

About a half mile down the road from the cemetery is this rather handsome piece of architecture.  Quite impressive for a medical clinic, especially when one considers the nice landscaping touch.

On my way home, it occurred to me that all my action pictures were of my front wheel.  This hardly seems fair, as it is my rear wheel that does most of the work.  In an attempt to give my rear wheel its due, I present the below photo.

Nokesville

click for ride details

The people have spoken.  I have heard your voices and have resolved to get new tires.  I expect to be able to provide a detailed report on the purchase, installation, and ride quality of these tires by next weekend.  In the meanwhile, I have called Old Ironsides into long distance service.

Well, at least it can be called “moderate distance,” if not “long distance.”

A rare action shot of Old Ironsides

Yesterday’s weather was once again fantastic, with temperatures soaring into the upper 60s.  There was a stiff breeze, but that was of little consequence when matched with the springlike temperature.  I probably would have plotted a 50 mile route for the Trek, but with Old Ironsides I  cut the distance back to 36 miles.  In the end, pushing the hybrid that distance felt a bit like 50 miles anyway.  For my objective, I chose some pleasant country lanes east of Nokesville that I haven’t been on in several weeks and set off.

Rocking the arm warmers

The mild temperatures allowed me to try out my very first set of arm warmers, a Christmas present from a friend who is trying to help me round out my cycling wardrobe.  They are made by Garneaux, the same Canadian company that makes my shoe covers.  Like the shoe covers, these arm warmers did a great job.  I find myself becoming a fan of Garneaux, despite their suspicious French name.  I felt a little silly, being decked out in proper cycling kit all the way to my ankles, whereupon the studious observer would note that I was wearing sneakers.  Oh yeah, I was riding a hybrid.  It was definitely an odd combination.

A momentary break in the country

After traversing the bike path on Rte 234, then navigating the busy Aden Road (much of it with no shoulder), I arrived at those pleasant country lanes.  It takes me 11 miles to get there, which once again makes me wonder why I don’t simply drive there more often and start my ride at the place where I enjoy it.  Purists (especially those with a political agenda) will point out the silliness of driving so I can cycle and the adverse impact on the environment such a practice creates.  I’m not persuaded by this argument, but rather cannot be bothered to put my bike and rack on my truck and drive out there, then repeat the process on the return.  I rather like arriving in my driveway at the end of the ride and being done with the event.  When the chore of riding Aden Road outweighs the hassle of commuting to ride, then I’ll do it.

Horse farm on Parkgate Drive

The roads east of Nokesville were (as anticipated) quite nice.  They are dotted with horse and dairy farms and have very little traffic on them.  After pedaling about for 14 miles, I once again returned to Aden Road and made the journey home without event.  Having the wind at my back was a nice way to finish the ride.

So once again Old Ironsides proved its worth.  While not being up to the task of regular distance riding, it can come through in a pinch as it did yesterday.  It is also my regular choice for nighttime and family rides.  I’m pleased to have it in my two-bicycle stable.

Bristow

Sometimes, goals can be helpful and today was one of those times.  The cold and wind would have certainly kept me indoors but for my goal of reaching 3,000 miles for the year.  I was 35 miles away and it was mocking me.  I would certainly have broken the mark with my evening rides, but I didn’t want to achieve the goal on a short neighborhood pedal.  I was hoping for something more appropriate for the occasion.  So I plotted a 37 mile route through Bristow and set out into the wind.

The wind and the 41 degree day definitely had me riding at a winter pace.  I pulled into the Bristoe Station Battlefield having done 22 miles averaging less than 14 mph.  Welcome to December.  There were even a few snowflakes falling.  Nothing stuck to the ground, but it was my first ride in falling snow.  The Trek seemed unimpressed and behaved pretty much as it always did.  I’ve been riding my hybrid a lot recently, and it’s always nice to hop back on the old road bike, which runs as silent as a submarine compared to Old Ironsides.

When I reached the battlefield, I stopped for a Clif Bar and some Gatorade.  The below view is looking south and Bristow Road is just beyond the fence on the left.

While I was taking in the view, some folks pulled up with three horses for a ride on the battlefield trail.  It was an interesting show, watching the man in the cowboy hat (who was clearly in charge, since he was the one wearing a cowboy hat) lead the horses out of the trailer.

The way home was much more pleasant.  The wind was at my back and the majority of the ride was downhill.  As I neared Brentsville, an enormous brown hawk glided next to me for a few yards.  He was only 30 feet away and was very impressive.

I was almost home when I reached Mile #3000 at the intersection of Rte 234 and Spriggs Road.  I took a picture to capture the moment.  As you can see, the heavens did not open and there were no angelic choirs to commemorate the event.  I realize that a great many cyclists, including most of the regular contributors to this blog’s comments section, do many more miles than this.  In fact, combining my 2010 and 2011 totals would still make for a below average year for the more accomplished riders.  Still, it is a significant milestone for me and worthy of note, if for no other reason than it got me outside on a cold day and gave me the opportunity to see an incredible bird.

Historical Marker Segment!

There is a mystery afoot at Bristow Station Battlefield. The two markers I previously noted along the road are now missing.  This may be my first-ever case of stolen markers.  When I pulled into the parking lot, I spied this new marker.  It is unusual in that it does not have a date indicating when it was erected (almost all of these markers note the year they were created).  Very strange.

Markers noting the location of Confederate encampments and cemeteries are not unusual and the description provides a lengthy and somewhat interesting telling of what camp life was like during the war.  However, I do find it strange that NOT ONCE have I come across a marker noting a Union encampment or cemetery.  The obvious answer is this is Virginia and an in-depth discussion of Federal activity is just not going to happen in these parts.  But perhaps there is something else going on – maybe Union dead were not buried on the field in the manner described in the marker.  Maybe they were shipped to a common location – Arlington National Cemetery for example.  It doesn’t explain the lack of detail on encampments, but does help to address the dearth of Union cemeteries.

Manassas

Detail of "Old Town" Manassas. Click for the entire ride route.

Ordinarily, I like to avoid cities while I’m riding.  Sometimes, there is a nice network of bike paths and trails which make the experience pleasant.  Such is not the case with Manassas, a good-sized town about 15 miles from my house.  I’ve cycled about 4,500 miles in the past 18 months, much of it in Prince William County, yet I have studiously avoided Manassas.  The main reason for this is my aversion to being hit by large rolling metallic objects driven by people only vaguely aware of my existence.  That and the fact that riding in cities can be tiresome, what with the constant stopping and starting at intersections.

Manassas is probably best known for being the site of the first major battle of the Civil War in 1861 and a second battle in 1862.  The Union, as was their custom, named the battle after a nearby creek – Bull Run.  The Confederates, following their tradition, went with the name of the nearest town – Manassas.  Truth be told, there wasn’t much of a town here in 1861 – just a strategically important railroad intersection.  The place was known as Manassas Junction until it became a town in 1873.  Nowadays, it is part of the vast network of urban sprawl emanating from Washington, DC.  It’s residents are primarily commuters who work in the city or nearby in Arlington, Crystal City, or the Pentagon.  Fun Fact:  John and Lorena Bobbit were from Prince William County and their trials took place in Manassas.

I was more interested in the Civil War history than the Bobbit trials, so I aimed for “Old Town,” a small strip near the railroad which still runs through the city.  Nearby is a Confederate Cemetery, which I was interested in taking in as well.

I entered the city via Fairview Avenue and was pleased to see my strategy of timing my ride with a Washington Redskins game was paying off.  Traffic was light and there was ample space for motorists to get by me without incident.  I quickly made my way through a residential section and made it to the famed railroad line.  I crossed the tracks and turned onto Quarry Drive, which would lead me to “Old Town.”  All cities in this area have a historic district which is usually labeled “Old Town.”  Here, city planners attempt to refurbish older areas which have fallen into an unsavory condition by trading off the historic nature of the place.  Restaurants, souvenir shops, parks, etc… greet people who come to soak up the local ambiance.  Old Town Alexandria is probably the most famous of these places.  I quickly discovered Old Town Manassas has some work to do.

I was hoping to see some historic buildings, perhaps an old church (Quarry Road gave way to the encouragingly named Church Street) but nothing terribly exciting caught my eye.  I was reminded of the fact that this was merely a railroad junction in the Civil War and no doubt life was hard on the people who lived in this war-torn part of the world for many years afterward.  Constructing grand and (someday) historic buildings was probably not on their agenda.  I did note with satisfaction that the streets were wide and nicely paved – a bonus when traveling in downtown areas.

On the western end of town lies the Confederate Cemetery, which I ducked into for a quick inspection.  The land for the original cemetery was only an acre donated by a local resident.  It has since grown to accommodate more recent burials, but the overall size is not imposing.  USA flags at the civilian portion of the cemetery gradually give way to Confederate Stars and Bars, until one finds oneself standing beneath a 20 foot tall monument with a Confederate Soldier atop of it.  About 250 Confederate soldiers killed in 1861-1862 are buried here.  Surrounding burial plots with cast iron fences must have been the fashion at the time because there is a maze of these in this section of the cemetery.  They  and the aged grave markers definitely give the area a historic feel.

I made my way back via Center Street and crossed the railroad tracks again.  A train station did double-duty as the city’s visitor’s center, which is only appropriate given the importance of the railroad junction to the town’s history.  I pedaled past the Manassas Museum, which was a large building on nice grounds, and soon found myself where I began on Fairview Avenue.  I noticed the Reformed Presbyterian Church and thought the architecture to be interesting.  Later research has informed me that the building dates from 1879, when it was consecrated as the Catholic All Saints Church.

Visitors' Center

The Beginning of The End - long sleeved shirt and full finger gloves with a light mounted for riding in the dark.

The ride home was a very pleasant fall ride, although as the sun dropped below the treeline the cooling temperatures made me glad to pull into my driveway.  I managed to get by with a long sleeve base layer and some full finger gloves.  I don’t think that will be sufficient for much longer.  Winter riding is upon us.  Here’s hoping for just a few more pleasant days before the onslaught begins in earnest.

Back To Normal

By this afternoon, most of the aches and pains from yesterday’s run had subsided.  It was a fantastic day (which I had off due to Christopher Columbus) so I went out on a 22 mile spin.  I spiced things up a bit by heading down some side streets I don’t normally travel, which speaks volumes about what I consider to be “spicing something up.”  Fall was in the air and the leaves are just starting to turn color.

For the most part I felt no ill effects of my running injuries while pedaling.  The only time I had problems was whenever I stood up on my pedals.  I solved that by not standing up on my pedals.

With the running mostly behind me, it’s time to come up with a few interesting rides before the temperature drops to unpleasant levels.  I have a few ideas in mind, but nothing has fully crystalized.  More to follow!

Quantico and Possum Point

Labor Day is the unofficial end of summer and it seemed inappropriate not to make the most of the holiday.  So when the forecasted rain from Tropical Storm Lee held off, I took advantage with a ride around Prince William Forest, through Quantico Marine Base and over to Possum Point.  I haven’t cycled around the forest since May and I haven’t been to Possum Point since February, so it was definitely time for another visit.  With temps in the mid-80s, it didn’t feel as if Summer was losing its grip just yet.

Drama has been following me as of late (hurricanes, earthquakes, torrential thunder storms, angry motorists) and today was no exception.  10 miles into my ride I passed a terrible auto accident.  A car had somehow managed fly about 100 feet into the forest and landed upside down.  It was extremely bad and I can’t imagine how anybody in that vehicle survived.  There were several cars stopped on this rural road, at least two of which had signs of damage.  I asked the Park Ranger on site if there was anything I could do to help and he told me that everything was in hand.  As I continued onward, I counted four fire trucks, two ambulances, four motorcycle police, one fire chief truck and one police cruiser on their way to the scene.  Here’s hoping I’m wrong and everybody made it out of there.

UPDATE:  Local reports are that the driver of the vehicle died on the scene.  The passenger is in the hospital with non life-threatening injuries.

I am happy to report the rest of the ride had no brushes with death.  I made it to Quantico Marine Base and pedaled up the hill on Purvis Road, noting with satisfaction that the hill seemed far less of a challenge than in months past.  I eventually made it to the Potomac River and puttered about some of the side streets.  I came across a mighty oak tree in a picnic area near Marine Corps University, which I provide below for your viewing pleasure.

After taking in some fluids and some energy chews, I headed back off the base and made my way to Possum Point Drive, which features a nice ride along a large estuary to the Potomac, then a one mile climb along the river bank.  I took a break at the top and took in the view pictured below.  Not one minute after I put away my camera, a buck bolted from the brush right next to me (in the bottom right corner of the picture).  He had been hiding there and grew tired of waiting for me to leave.  He leapt across the road in two bounds.  Deer are amazing creatures and it was great to see one so close.

I completed my circuit in good form and ahead of the approaching rain.  My calf injury (i.e., no jogging) and early returns from work last week have allowed for some nice pedals – eight rides in eleven days for a total of 150 miles.  That’s a good rate for me, one that I doubt I’ll reach again until late October after the Army 10-miler is run.

Midland

The Reston Century is in two weeks and today was no day to ease off on the miles.  So I rolled out of my driveway at 9:45 AM into 85 degree temps and 85% humidity.  Good times.  I wanted to stretch my distance a bit and decided to make for the small town of Midland, about 30 miles away.

The road to Midland.

The map indicates there isn’t much to see in Midland and the map was right.  There is a small airport, the view of which is frustratingly blocked by roadside trees.  I had accepted the fact that there would be nothing of interest on this route and this would simply be a pleasant ride through rural Virginia when I came across a small park, built in honor of Supreme Court Justice John Marshall.

John Marshal Park

Marshal was the longest-serving Supreme Court Chief Justice and fundamentally shaped the role of the court and therefore the US government.  He was born in this area in 1755.  His home is gone but there is a stone pyramid which marks the site, one half a mile down a nature trail which starts at the park.  The park itself is rather simple, with a parking lot for five cars and a couple of markers describing the site and Marshal’s contributions to the republic.  I didn’t travel down the path as it didn’t seem conducive to 23mm tires.  I was quickly on my way again to the heavily traveled Route 28 and a favorable tailwind for the next 12 miles.

In short order, I found myself back in Nokesville, then Bristow, then back home.  I focused on keeping my heart rate down early in the ride and eating something every 30 minutes.  This paid off as I had plenty of energy towards the end of the trip, even with temps well over 100 degrees.    I wish I placed equal emphasis on applying sunscreen.  Inexplicably, I neglected to use any on this trip and as I type these words I am regretting that decision.

Historical Marker Segment!

I was hopeful that I would find markers on Route 28, which is an older (pre-Civil War) road with ample opportunities for something historical on its path.  I wasn’t disappointed.  The first marker can be found outside Calverton, the first town north of Midland.  In keeping with the decidedly Southern perspective on these markers, the Confederates are mentioned in a positive light, even when they lose, as Mosby did at this place in 1863.  As a New Yorker, I was happy to learn the 5th NY Cavalry played a role in his demise on that day.  Since the sign won’t tell you, I am pleased to inform you that the 5th NY was commanded by Colonel John Hammond of Crown Point, NY.

The next town northward is Catlett and it is here we can find another Civil War marker.  This time, Mosby is the victor.  As a raider, he tended to run away when things got too hot, but that was his job so we won’t fault him for that.

The final marker was an interesting design.  Normally, these markers have the same writing on both sides.  However the marker at the county line has a different version on each side – one for Fauquier County and one for Prince William County.  As you can see, the Prince William side is in need of some gardening.  This is the first time I’ve come across a marker that couldn’t be read.