by Jeff Alt
We came to a stop behind a big RV. We all stepped out of the car and walked ahead to the campground’s ranger station. A Dutch door served as the registration counter for campers to check in. A park ranger in full uniform was giving out information to some campers. Off to the left side of the counter an array of notes and messages were posted on the wall for campers. One of them was addressed to the Lewis and Clark clan.
“This must be for us,” I said, pulling the note off the board and unfolding it. It read, “We’re at campsites E173 & E 175.”
We hopped back into the old Ford Rambler and followed the “E” campground signs. This was a huge campground, but each section was clearly marked and easy to navigate. It was the height of summer, and nearly every site was occupied. We saw our Jeep parked in a shaded area next to our tent at campsite E175, and we immediately recognized our cousin Crockett and his parents, Uncle Boone and Aunt Walks-a-Lot, next to us in campsite E173.
Hug-a-Bug and I hopped out of the car and ran over to greet the new addition to our Shenandoah adventure crew. Mom, Dad, Papa Lewis, Grandma, and Wild Bill converged on Uncle Boone, Aunt Walks-a-Lot, and Crockett. For several minutes there was hugging, kissing, and catching up on all the family news. Then Papa Lewis announced a surprise for our Mom and Dad.
“You two have a room at Big Meadows Lodge tonight. It’s on us. We know you stayed there on your honeymoon and thought you might enjoy revisiting it.”
Mom and Dad hugged Papa Lewis and Grandma for their generosity.
“Thank you, Mom and Lewis.”
“It’s our pleasure, Clark. The lodge is close enough to walk, but you might want to drive up to drop off your gear. Why don’t you two go get settled in your room, then come back down, and we can make plans for dinner,” Papa Lewis suggested.
“Sounds great. See you guys in a bit,” Mom responded, as she and Dad hopped into the Jeep and motored out of camp.
“Bubba Jones and Hug-a-Bug, this note was left on the bulletin board for you when we arrived to set up camp,” Papa Lewis said as he handed me the note.
It had to be from Washington! I quickly unfolded it and Hug-a-Bug and Crockett leaned in to read along with me:
I look forward to meeting the additional family, especially Crockett! Decode the message below and meet us at that location tomorrow. See you soon!
—Washington
OXMFAXK ZXJM YOLTK ELRPB MLOZE LZQLYBO PFU KLLK KFKBQBBK BKQV KFKB
I unfolded the cipher and the plain text decoder sheet from earlier and went through each group of letters.
This was the message I deciphered:
Plain: RAPIDAN CAMP BROWN HOUSE PORCH
Cipher: OXMFAXK ZXJM YOLTK ELRPB MLOZE
Plain: OCTOBER SIX NOON NINETEEN TWENTY NINE
Cipher: LZQLYBO PFU KLLK KFKBQBBK QTBKQV KFKB
I showed Papa Lewis the message.
“I was going to recommend that we visit Rapidan Camp. It’s one of my favorite spots in the park,” Papa Lewis said.
“What is Rapidan Camp?” I asked.
“When Herbert Hoover was president, from 1929 to 1933, he used Rapidan Camp as the presidential retreat. It was only when FDR became president that the presidential retreat was moved to its current location, Camp David,” Papa Lewis explained.
“Wow! We’re going to meet up with another president!” Hug-a-Bug said excitedly.
“Not only the president, but the first lady, Lou Henry Hoover, and whomever else is there, too,” Papa Lewis explained.
“Maybe Washington’s secret mission has something to do with the president. After all, presidents know a lot of secrets,” I suggested.
“Well, let’s see what Washington shares tomorrow. If he doesn’t reveal what’s going on, I have a plan,” Crockettt shared.
“I knew we could count on you, Crockett,” I replied.
While we waited for Mom and Dad to return from the lodge, Hug-a-Bug sat down at the picnic table to update her timeline. Uncle Boone and Aunt Walks-a-Lot went back over to their campsite to finish setting up camp. As Hug-a-Bug was working, Papa Lewis handed her the Shenandoah Junior Ranger Booklet.
“I picked this up at the Byrd Visitor Center for you,” Papa Lewis said.
“Thanks Papa Lewis. Just what I wanted, so I can become a Shenandoah Junior Ranger while we’re here,” Hug-a-Bug said, smiling.
“Bubba Jones, before we got on the road, I printed the Ranger Explorer Activity Guide for us. I found it on the National Park Service website. It’s for ages thirteen and up,” Crockett said, handing me the Guide.
“Wow, you really did do your homework, Crockett,” I said as I leafed through the Guide.
Crockett and I sat with Hug-a-Bug and found the Rapidan Camp on the Central District map. As we were sitting there, a hiker walked by just ten yards away from our camp. She was wearing a full backpack and using trekking poles. Then I noticed a white blaze on a tree above her head. We were camped next to the Appalachian Trail! Hug-a-Bug got excited when she saw a female thru-hiker. She jumped up from the picnic table and ran over to greet the woman. They talked for several minutes, and then Hug-a-Bug led the hiker into our camp.
“Everyone, this is Ginger. Her two other friends, Cinnamon and Garlic, already passed by. They started hiking the trail in May, down in Georgia. They’ve hiked through Tennessee, North Carolina, and almost all of Virginia. They are going to do a flip-flop. When they get to Harpers Ferry, they are going to catch a ride up to Mount Katahdin in Maine and hike south back to Harpers Ferry so they won’t have to worry about the weather. They’re staying at Blackrock Hut tonight,” Hug-a-Bug said
“Wow, Hug-a-Bug. I couldn’t have explained it better myself,” Ginger said.
We all greeted Ginger, then Uncle Boone led her over to his camp and had her pick whatever food she wanted from his supply. Ginger wasn’t shy—she scooped up several Snickers bars and energy bars. Aunt Walks-a-Lot made a ham and cheese sandwich for Ginger, which Ginger wolfed down in about three bites. “Thanks a bunch for the trail magic, but I need to catch up to my trail family at Blackrock Hut,” Ginger said as she turned to go, striding off down the trail.
“What did she mean by ’trail magic’?” Aunt Walks-a-Lot asked.
“Trail magic is any act of kindness or generosity shown to thru-hikers by people along the trail. And the people who provide trail magic are called trail angels,” Papa Lewis explained.
“I can’t wait until I’m old enough to hike the A.T.!” Hug-a-Bug responded.
Just then, Mom and Dad strolled into our campsite.
“Hey guys, why don’t we all eat at the Big Meadows Lodge? It’s just a short walk. We can cut through the picnic area,” Dad suggested.
Everyone liked that idea. We locked all of our food and scented items in our vehicles to keep from attracting animals. The campground had several reported bear sightings, making it all the more important to properly secure our food and anything else that a bear might find attractive.
We followed Mom and Dad through the picnic area, then followed a footpath up a small hill. The trail led us onto a grassy green lawn, where we followed a circular driveway leading up to the lodge. The building was a sprawling structure of wood and stone, with a massive stone chimney. It looked warm, rustic, and inviting. Now this, I thought, is a lodge!
“This lodge was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1939. They used stone from this area, and the wood is all American chestnut,” Papa Lewis said as we walked into the lobby. A guest counter stood off to the right, with a lodge employee checking in new guests. A line of people stood by the dining area, waiting for a table to become available.
“I put our name in for a table before we returned to the campground, anticipating that you would all want to eat here,” Mom said.
We followed Mom and Dad through a set of French doors into a large airy room. The walls and ceiling were made of American chestnut stained to reveal the natural wood grain. The room had a vaulted ceiling supported by large wood trusses. A massive flo
or-to-ceiling stone fireplace dominated one end of the room. French doors to the right of the fireplace led out onto a stone terrace. Huge rustic chandeliers suspended by chains hung from the ceiling. The entire back wall of the room was windows, allowing natural light to flood the room and providing a beautiful view of the Shenandoah Valley. Logs popped and crackled in the fireplace, and cool air drifted through the French doors on the opposite side of the room.
“This is known as the Great Room,” Papa Lewis told us.
It had a feeling of greatness to it. It was large, but cozy—the perfect place to hide from the elements and take in the mountain vista.
“Lewis and Clark, your table is ready,” A woman called into the great room from the lobby.
The woman led us to our table. As our group walked through the dining room something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I looked to my left and caught a quick glimpse of Washington, walking away from the guest services counter and out the front door.
“It’s Washington!” I exclaimed, turning to run outside to catch up to him. When I got outside, he was nowhere in sight. There were people everywhere, getting in and out of vehicles, walking past, standing and talking. The distant parking lot was bustling with vehicles pulling in and out of parking spots. A large tourist bus idled in front of the gift shop. But no Washington.
“What’s going on?” Crockett shouted from behind me.
“I swear I saw Washington, but now he’s gone,” I answered.
“Don’t worry Bubba Jones, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” Crockett assured me.
We went back inside and found our seats in the dining room for a table of ten. It had the same cozy rustic feel as the great room. Food service staff zipped back and forth carrying platters of steamy food. The air was filled with the sounds of social chatter and the metallic clink of forks and knives. No need to time travel to get the feel of what life was like here in the past: the decor had been restored to the 1930s era. Even the menu had historical food choices. Best of all, they had blackberry ice cream for dessert. We walked out of the dining room with full stomachs. We said good night to Mom and Dad, and walked back to the campground for the night. We all sat around the fire until the sun set, then we all turned in for the night at about the same time. We had a big day in store for us tomorrow. We were going to get to the bottom of this secret mission!
CHAPTER 14
PRESIDENTIAL DOUBLE HEADER
In the morning, Papa Lewis, Wild Bill, Uncle Boone, Aunt Walks-a-Lot, and Grandma all managed to gather outside under the dining canopy without waking us. It was only the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee that woke Crockett, Hug-a-Bug, and me. We all dressed for the day’s hike and joined the others outside. Grandma put out granola bars and a bowl of fruit for breakfast.
“I figured we would keep it simple this morning,” Grandma said, referring to breakfast.
We all thanked Grandma for breakfast and dug in. “I’m looking forward to visiting Rapidan Camp. That’s been on my time-travel bucket list for a long time,” Wild Bill said with a smile.
After everyone was finished eating, Papa Lewis unfolded a map to review the plan.
“We will park at Milam Gap, just before milepost fifty-three on Skyline Drive, and take the Mill Prong Trail. That’s just a few miles from here. The hike is four miles round trip to Rapidan Camp and back,” Papa Lewis said, while dragging his finger along the route on the map. “We should pack along some lunch and have a picnic while we’re there.”
Grandma and Aunt Walks-a-Lot started an assembly line of bread, deli meat, cheese, condiments, carrot sticks, and energy bars for everyone’s lunch. Mom and Dad showed up as we were packing our lunches.
“Good morning, everyone,” Dad said with a smile.
“The strangest thing happened this morning on our walk across the parking lot to eat breakfast at the lodge. We saw Cousin Nick, Dolly, and Washington pull into a parking space. They got out of the car loaded down with all sorts of hiking equipment, as if they had been out all night. They disappeared into one of the lodge rooms before we could catch up to them,” Mom said, looking perplexed.
“That is odd. Why would they hike at night?” I asked.
“I have a theory. Let’s see how today goes, and if I still think I’m right, I’ll share it with all of you,” Crockett said.
We all climbed in our vehicles and drove out of the campground. In minutes, we arrived at the parking lot across from the trailhead. We shouldered our packs, crossed the road, and started down the trail toward Rapidan Camp. The hike was pleasant. We followed a gradual downgrade most of the way. At one point, we crossed a stream—one of three—that required some careful rock hopping, but other than that, the hike was pretty tame. The trail opened up to a fire road which circled Rapidan Camp. A national park building came into view as we entered the camp.
“That’s the Creel Cabin, one of three original structures built when President Hoover used this as a presidential retreat. The original complex had thirteen buildings spread out to blend in with the natural surroundings. All but three—the Creel Cabin, the Prime Minister’s Cabin, and the Brown House—were in disrepair and torn down. The original buildings were all connected by gravel paths, much like the one we’re on now,” Papa Lewis explained.
We followed Papa Lewis along a narrow path through a stand of trees which opened up to a clearing in view of a green-roofed one-story cabin. It was the same brown as all of the national park buildings, with massive stone chimneys on the end walls.
“President Hoover was elected in 1928, and in 1929 the Great Depression hit. People lost their jobs and their homes. Businesses closed, and people struggled to simply find food and shelter. Hoover was wrongly blamed for the Depression even though he had nothing to do with it. He wanted a place to retreat from the hectic presidential life in Washington. He believed that in order to make sound decisions, you needed to have a place to relax and rejuvenate, both mentally and physically. He found the sound of rushing water to be very relaxing. After he was elected, his aides searched for a retreat with three features: it had to be within one hundred miles of D.C. for easy access, it had to be at an elevation of at least 2,500 feet, and it had to offer good fishing. Fishing was one of President Hoover’s favorite pasttimes. Some advocates for the creation of Shenandoah National Park thought having the presidential retreat there would bolster their plans. They promoted this location, and the Hoovers liked it. First Lady Lou Henry Hoover oversaw the creation of Rapidan Camp. The Hoovers turned down government funds to build Rapidan. They were very wealthy and paid for the construction out of their own pockets. They did agree to have the Marines provide the labor and build the camp.”
Gesturing toward the cabin, Papa Lewis said, “This is the Brown House, where The Hoovers stayed and entertained guests. It was built where two streams come together to form the Rapidan River. We’re supposed to meet Washington and his parents there in just a few minutes.” Pointing to another cabin, Papa Lewis said, “That is the Prime Minister Cabin, where the Prime Minister of England stayed when he visited,” Papa Lewis explained, pointing to another building a short walk from the Brown House.
We followed Papa Lewis up onto the back porch of the Brown House. A park volunteer was speaking to a group of tourists and about to lead them inside and give them a tour. I could hear the sound of rushing water. I walked to the far end of the porch and found the source: the Rapidan River was just feet off of the back porch.
When the tour group stepped inside, my family gathered together in a circle. I held the family journal tight with one hand and said, “Take us back to twelve noon, October 6, 1929.”
A gust of wind blew and everything went dark. I blinked my eyes and it was daylight once again. Our surroundings had changed: the forest around us abounded with old growth Eastern Hemlocks and some American chestnut trees. Our clothes had changed; Crockett and I wore denim bib overalls, button down shirts, straw hats, and well-worn shoes—we were dressed like the mountain b
oys of that era.
“Hey, Bubba Jones, you made it,” a familiar voice shouted from the river bank.
It was Washington with Cousin Nick and Dolly. We walked down to greet them at the bank. They, too, were dressed like the locals. Washington looked tired. So did Cousin Nick and Dolly. They all had dark circles under their eyes.
“That’s President Hoover fishing over there,” Washington said, pointing to a man further downstream dressed in a wide brim hat, a dark suit coat, a tie, and fishing waders. Several men dressed in suits stood nearby.
That sure is a fancy fishing outfit, I thought.
“Mrs. Hoover is inside the cabin. If you’re asked, say we live on the other side of the mountain. We’re just out for a stroll,” Washington advised.
Just then, a woman with short white hair and wearing a dress appeared on the porch, and smiled at us.
“Would you lovely ladies like to join me for tea?” she asked.
“That’s Mrs. Hoover. This is your chance to mingle with the first lady,” Papa Lewis whispered to the ladies.
“That would be wonderful,” Grandma replied as Aunt Walks-a-Lot, Mom, Grandma and Hug-a-Bug climbed the porch steps and went inside the cabin with the first lady of the United States.
President Hoover took notice of us watching him. He walked along the bank towards us.
“I have some extra rods and tackle if you boys would care to join me. I’m just enjoying some downtime until my next meeting with Prime Minister MacDonald. We need to talk about our Navies,” President Hoover confided.
“We would love to join you,” Dad said.
A member of President Hoover’s security detail walked away and reappeared with fishing gear for us. For the next half hour, we tried our best to catch some brook trout with the president of the United States. President Hoover was good at this—he caught several.
“I love spending time out here. It clears my head and reinvigorates me,” President Hoover told us.
We heard an airplane engine overhead, and minutes later, a low-flying prop plane zipped above us.