"A Scotch Pine"
I started out around eight thirty in the morning, camera and canvas bag in tow. There were only a few clouds in the sky and a moderate breeze, so the heat was quite bearable. The sun was glistening off the Capitol dome, church steeples and the river. It was a great morning to take deep breaths and be happy to be alive.
I walked down the alley toward the river, crossing over and following Washington Street instead of taking my usual path down Bradford. I went down Morris Street to the Boulevard. Along the sidewalk at the top of the river bank my eyes perceived the scene and my mind started framing pictures.
I climbed the stairs that led from the Levee parking lot to the Southside Bridge.
The risers are open on the stairway, and by the time I got to the top of the climb, I was experiencing a case of slightly more than mild vertigo. The light flashing between the steps had a stroboscopic effect. It could be that since I now wear bifocal lenses in my glasses that the vertigo was due to the constant effort my eyes were making to focus on all the details that my mind deemed necessary for safety. It might have something to do with the fact that anything seen through the bottom portion of my lenses further away than reading distance is out of focus. At any rate, I had to stop and hold on to the railing for a few minutes. I used this valuable time to catch my breath and look around, too. I uncapped my camera and took this shot of the Haddad Riverfront Park and part of downtown.
The building in the foreground to the right is the Union Building. It's the only building on that side of the Boulevard. The rest were removed early in last century to make room for the Boulevard. The brown stone building in the distance with the little tower and red roofs is the County Courthouse. Directly in front of it is the new city parking garage and to the right of that is the back end of City Hall.
Crossing the bridge, I went by the Amtrack Station.
Actually, only the lower level is the Amtrack station. The upper floors are offices for Fred Haddad (the fellow the park is named for) and an insurance agency.
At the end of the bridge, at the corner of the depot I had to cross the C&O ramp, which is the exit to MacCorkle Avenue. MacCorkle Avenue runs from Marmet, or perhaps Rand, to the east, through Charleston, South Charleston, Jefferson, and Saint Albans, and ends somewhere in the hinterland on the other side of Ammandaville.
Having crossed the street, I took this shot from the pedestrian bridge that crosses over the railroad tracks.
On the other side of the pedestrian bridge lies the C&O access road. It leads from the end of the bridge and the Bridge Road and Loudendale Road intersection to the rail bed. There is a metal gate blocking the way to vehicles. Pedestrian traffic and bicycles can easily go around. You can see the edge of it in the previous photo, on the left.
On the access road, I found this odd bit of pavement:
Along the side of the road there were all sorts of wildflowers. There were honeysuckle, Queen Anne's Lace, Columbine, and this one purple flowered plant with a bee having its way with the blossoms.
About half way down the incline to the rail bed, the old carriage trail begins. It is like a tunnel punched into the dense greenery of the forest that is rather unexpectedly there right in the middle of the city. There used to be a capital and part of the shaft of a Greek column from some Greek or Roman ruin there to mark the beginning of the trail. Governor William A. MacCorkle (for whom the Avenue previously mentioned is named) brought back from his travels. It's gone now, removed when they were rebuilding the C&O ramp a couple years ago. I've no idea where it is.
Governor MacCorkle has bits of the great structures of the world in his fireplace: The great pyramid, Hadrian's wall, the Roman Coliseum, the Great Wall of China. His home, Sunrise, is now an arts and sciences museum. The carriage trail was his private driveway, and was the only way to reach his house until the more modern roads to the hilltop were built just prior to World War II.
The hill at this point is a rather steep incline, so the carriage road zig zags in a series of several switchbacks to lessen the grade. Near the first turn in this twisting route lies a simple stone marker. The inscription on it tells a story, both sad and intriguing, with the truth of the matter obscured by the haze of history.
I always wonder what the truth to that inscription is. Were they really Confederate spies, or whether the truth is more sordid, like they were caught having sex with Confederate troops, or maybe they were victims of a gang rape by the very soldiers who convicted them of treason and carried out the execution. It's almost impossible to know. These nameless women make me want to know their story.
Turning the corner and going up the next leg of the trail, I see light coming through the trees. There is a clearing at the next bend in the road. There is also a masonry pillar that once supported a gas light fixture, and a stone retaining wall built in times after Governor MacCorkle's era. Rounding that bend, I looked up the trail and this is what I saw:
It would be so peaceful up there were it not for all the doctors and lawyers jogging and walking for their health, and their wives walking the poodles and Shi-tzus, and their kids, sitting on the benches sulking. Even with all that, I still enjoy going there.
Just beyond where you can see in the picture is a rock shelf, where in previous times, I'm sure Native Americans took shelter from the rain and snow. I've heard of arrowheads being found there. There are some markings on the rocks, but I think they are of more modern origin, probably someone trying to perpetrate a hoax, or someone enamored of the idea of cave drawings.
The inside of this memorial was inlaid with cobalt blue ceramic tiles, I think made from larger tiles taken from Imhotep's tomb in Egypt. At least that's my theory. A huge tree fell over and shattered the entire structure, scattering blue tiles all over the area. The repair work is atrocious. If they weren't going to restore it to at least a semblance of its original form, they should have left it broken. It would have at least had more character that way.
I don't know if Governor MacCorkle and Isabella are buried here or not, but the stones in the base of the monument tend to make me think so.
Along the side of the carriage trail, the hillside is restrained by mortarless stone walls. In the places where they've failed in their task, new walls of mortared stone, sometimes with rock bolts and reinforcing steel have replaced them. This is a section of the original.
The ivy growing here, according to legend (or at least what I heard), was brought back here by Governor MacCorkle from Sherwood Forest. It likes it here, apparently, as the sides of the entire length the trail are festooned quite generously with it.
Here is one of the few houses visible from the trail. Of course, it's in one of the more exclusive residential areas of the city, and is quite magnificent.
There are five ways to end the trip up the trail to sunrise. There is a set of wooden stairs that leads up to the rose garden. Second is a set of stone steps that goes up to the front patio. This is the one I take. Other ways up are the two sets of stairs at the side, and the paved entrance to the carriage trail at the back drive.
Before going up the stairs, I stopped to snap a quick shot of Sunrise from the trail, as it peeked out at me from the trees.
The hedges and evergreen topiary shrubs were allowed to grow out of control so it's like a maze wending your way through to the front patio of the mansion. Once you're there, there is a short set of steps leading from the lawn to the patio and there it is! -- Sunrise.
From the wall around the patio, I snapped this shot of the part of downtown Charleston that you can see from there. I imagine in Governor MacCorkle's day, it was pretty much all of the downtown area.
At the back of the house, which is the entrance for the museum now, there are some stones in the wall that might be of historical interest.
The St. John's Church 1775 stone is from the church where Patrick Henry made his impassioned speech. The dark stone in the upper left is from Stonewall Jackson's house. He was one of Robert E. Lee's generals in the Confederate Army. Although you can't see it, the stone in the lower left is inscribed "Mexico." I'm presuming that's where it came from. You can't read it too well in this shot, but the big stone at the lower right corner was originally part of Fort Sumpter, where, in the harbor of the other Charleston, the first shots of the Civil War were fired. There is a stone, too, from Thomas Jefferson's house, Monticello. There are other stones not in the picture from the homes and churches of many other luminaries of American History. Inside the house, English, Scottish, and World history is told in a similar manner in the huge, lavish fireplace.
Close to the back gate, near where the back drive joins to the top of the carriage trail, there is an odd brick wall, more a sculpture than a wall. The shifting of the local geology has split it in twain to nice effect.
Turning the corner, and going around by the back wall about 100 feet, we reach the top of the trail. This wall is seemingly dedicated to geology. Governor MacCorkle has wide interests. Ensconced in this wall are different stones from various geologic formations, including anthracite coal, and these, geodes sawn in half.
I hope you've enjoyed this little trip up the carriage road. Had I better equipment, I'd have taken shots of the original cobblestones that still pave portions of the trail, the brass markers that the garden society put on the various species of trees for instructional purposes. Next time I get up that way, I'll try to get some more shots of the flora and in particular the sculpture and the roses.