Tag: Virginia

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Packing List: Maryland, Virginia, West Virginia

For a week long road trip that included a college graduation, some family, some friends, and five days fishing, we took some clothes–way too many clothes. For fishing, I also took:

  • Raingear.  Rain pants and a rain jacket. You don’t need rain pants when you’re fishing in waders, but we weren’t in waders on The Chesapeake. I bought Andy a new pair, and discovered my pair had a ripped seat.  It’s probably good I wasn’t sitting down. Kris couldn’t find her rain pants. It rained and it was cold and there was nothing good about that.
  • Waders, boots, wading staffs.  Kris always preferred an old pair of Orvis canvass boots from 20-odd years ago, but they were constantly delaminating and I suggested she buy a new pair for the trip. Not that we trout fished in Maryland, but because of disease felt is no longer allowed there, nor in Alaska, Missouri, Nebraska, Rhode Island, and South Dakota. For the two days on boats I had a new pair of Keen sandals because the old pair were constantly delaminating.  Maybe it’s us.
  • Rods.  More than we needed. Two 9’ 5 weights for trout, two 9’  6 weights for bass, and a 10’ 4 weight because after suffering rod fever in February I didn’t suffer long.  We used the 6 weights for the Shenandoah, and the smaller rods for West Virginia.  We used the guide’s 9 weights for the Chesapeake—I don’t own a 9 weight and will have to contemplate that. We also borrowed the guide’s short 8’  3 weights for the tiny bookies—I don’t own any 3 weights and will have to contemplate that. Fly fishing is a very contemplative sport.
  • Reels.  Some reels. Floating lines.  The guide on the Shenandoah River said he’d toss in a sink tip, but I don’t know if he did and we wouldn’t have used it. We used the guide’s rods on the Chesapeake because I didn’t own heavy sinking lines.  I started to buy them, but wasn’t sure what I needed.  Now I know. I’ll have to contemplate that.
  • Flies. I took no saltwater flies.  I thought about it, mostly because I was curious about whether any of my redfish flies would work, but the flies we used in saltwater were much longer and heavier than anything I own.  They were big 6” flies with big lead eyes. For the Shenandoah, the guide brought Shenk’s white streamers on which we caught fish, and some olives that I never fished.  I had tied a bunch of dragon tails before we left, mostly because I was getting skunked at home on larger black bass. On the Shenandoah I caught some fish, but I also got lots of slappy short takes. The flies were just too long.  I’ve ordered some mini-dragon tails hoping they’re shorter, and long size 4 hooks, but suspect they may just be the same tail as the regular with 1-1/2” cut off the fat end.  I also took all my trout flies–and I have a lot–but mostly we fished the guide’s flies.  I think all of the rainbows and the one brown I caught were on various colors of squirmy worms, and two of the bookies on big stimulaters and the third on a bead-head pheasant tail nymph.
  • Leaders. Some nylon tippet.  Some Fluorocarbon tippet. I never used the Flourocarbon.  For the stripers we used a four foot piece of straight 20 pound.  It fit nicely around my neck.  For the smallmouth we used 9’ 2X.  Approximately 9’ anyway,  I’d tied in bits and pieces of stuff, and I sort of guess at lengths.  For the trout, 9’ 5X with foam strike indicators for the squirmy worms.  The morning I fished on my own I switched to some Orvis strike putty that had been floating around my vest for 15 or 20 years. It worked fine. It always works fine. I don’t know why I ever use anything else.
  • Sunglasses. Amber and low light polarized Smiths.  Everyone loves low light sunglasses.  I love low light  sunglasses. I lost mine in West Virginia that time I fell down in the pond.
  • Fishing vest.  Complete with all the usual junk that accumulates in fishing vests.  Some split shot (which I used), some nippers, hemostats, various kinds of indicators, and nets.  West Virginia apparently prohibits cloth nets on catch and release water. I don’t get the sense that there’s lots of enforcement.
  • Sling pack. I meant to pack a waterproof sling pack for the boats but forgot it.  I didn’t need it.
  • Sunscreen. I meant to pack a buff and sun gloves but they were in the sling pack. I need lots of sunscreen.
  • A water proof Nikon and a GoPro.  I bought a Nikon CoolPix waterproof camera that I wore around my neck while fishing.  It was easier than the GoPro and took better pictures, kept me from draining my phone battery, and kept my phone out of the river.  I loved it, but you can’t see the view screen in high sun. Kris took her birding camera and lenses but never used it.
  • My Corpus Christi Hooks baseball cap, which T.C. Campbell admired. It’s a good looking cap, and because it’s fitted I can wear the GoPro on the back.

For general life I took my travel guitar (I’m re-memorizing Tárrega’s Capricho árabe so I can forget it again).  On the plane I read The Chesapeake in Focus by Tom Pelton, who worked for the Baltimore Sun and hosts The Environment in Focus for NPR. We listened to a lot of Tom Rosenbauer’s Orvis podcasts when we were driving. At Harper’s Ferry I bought a copy of Stonewall Jackson’s 1862 Valley Campaign by Jonathan A. Noyalas and read that.

When we were driving around we listened to the playlists on my phone:

Maryland

Songs about Baltimore are mostly sad and gritty. There’s just something about Baltimore that makes it perfect for a dismal song.

  • Raining in Baltimore, Counting Crows
  • Baltimore,  Lyle Lovett
  • Baltimore,  with versions by Nina Simone and Randy Newman
  • Streets of Baltimore, with versions by Bobby Bare and Gram Parsons.
  • Baltimore Oriole, with versions Hoagy Charmichael and George Harrison. George Harrison?
  • Hungry Heart, Bruce Springsteen
  • Feets Don’t Fail Me Now, Little Feat
  • The Sad Death of Hattie McDaniel, Bob Dylan
  • The Lady Came from Baltimore, Tim Hardin
  • Tryin’ to Get to Heaven, Lucinda Williams

Plus, lots by Billie Holiday, Eubie Blake, Frank Zappa, and Phillip Glass. I listened to Glass’s Low Synphony three times on the flight. It sounded just like the Chesapeake should sound.  I tried to listen to it in the car in Maryland and Kris made me move on. She doesn’t like Glass.

All of us would be better listening more to Billie Holiday.

Virginia

  • Alexandria, Virginia, Bill Jennings
  • The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down, The Band.  I never thought of this song as tied to a particular place other than the Generic South, but it mentions Virginia and Tennessee.
  • Virginia Girl, Deer Tick.
  • Carry Me Back to Virginia,  Old Crow Medicine Show.  Oddly, I couldn’t find a copy of Carry Me Back to Ole Virginny, which was retired as the Virginia state song because of racial content.  There are lots of versions though, including Jerry Lee Lewis, Ray Charles, Bing Crosby, Frankie Laine, and Louis Armstrong.
  • Virginia Moon,  Foo Fighters.
  • East Virginia Blues, by Robert Earl Keen. There’s the classic version by Ralph Stanley, so I had them both.
  • Shenandoah, by Bill Frisell.  Frisell is a jazz guitarist, and this for many years has been a favorite recording.  Shenandoah is apparently the interim state song of Virginia.  It’s apparently not the official state song because the only state it mentions is Missouri.
  • Sweet Virginia,  The Rolling Stones.  I’m Not a Stones fan much. Typical Stones. Kinda self-absorbed.
  • Yorktown, from Hamilton.  Not much Virginia, but I saw Hamilton last week, and Kris liked it.
  • James River  by Checker and  James River by Jan Smith.  Different songs I think.  Haven’t noticed them enough to decide.

Plus Some Old Crow Medicine Show, Ella Fitzgerald, and Ralph Stanley.  I ended up humming Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong’s Cheek to Cheek all through Virginia and West Virginia. And Jason Mraz.  Not much good to be said about Jason Mraz, but no harm either.

West Virginia

  • My Home Among the Hills, The Carter Family
  • Grandma’s Hands, Willie Nelson
  • Coal Miner’s Daughter, Loretta Lynn.  OK, technically that’s Kentucky, but close enough
  • Country Roads, Take Me Home, John Denver.  I had to buy two versions of this.  The first I downloaded had been remastered with strings. It was awful. I have immensely fond memories of this song from driving out to feed the horse when I was 14.
  • West Virginia My Home, with versions by Hazel Dickens and The Hillbilly Gypsies.
  • Green Rolling Hills, Emmylou Harris
  • Need You, Tim McGraw
  • Linda Lou, Bill Monroe
  • I Wanna Go Back to West Virginia, Spike Jones
  • West Virginia Wildflower, Stacy Grubb
  • A Country Boy Can Survive, Hank Williams Jr. I’m not a fan.

Plus some Kathy Mattea.  I also put Copland’s Appalachian Spring and O’Connor’s Appalachia Waltz on the list. They seem to fit, even though O’Connor is from Seattle and Copeland from Brooklyn.  We were listening to Appalachian Spring crossing from Virginia to West Virginia, and expected every mountain turn to open into a vista.  Mostly they didn’t, but it sure kept me awake.

 

 

 

 

 

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Smallmouth. South Fork Shenandoah River, May 14, 2018.

Before Monday I had caught two smallmouth in the Devil’s River in South Texas.  Now I don’t know how many smallmouth I’ve caught. I’ve caught a lot of smallmouth.

I booked C.T. Campbell through Murray’s Flyshop in Edinburg, Virginia.  C.T. has his own guide service, Page Valley Fly Fishing, but I booked through Murray’s where C.T. contracts.  Most important, C.T. has a McKenzie boat. I’ve fished out of rafts before and I will fish out of rafts again, but for comfort give me a drift boat any day.

The Shenandoah is an A-list river, appearing in the first volume of Chris Santella’s Fifty Places to Fly Fish Before You Die. Harry Murray, of Murray’s Flyshop, suggested the river to Santella, but the author seems oddly apologetic that the river is full of smallmouth not trout. As someone who fishes trout relatively rarely, that just didn’t signify.  In Virginia I already knew I wanted to fish either the James or the Shenandoah River.  I thought about the James because what river is more important in America than the James? Ok, the Mississippi, but besides that.  I thought about the Shenandoah because I’ve been humming that tune since the 1965 Jimmy Stewart movie. I thought about wading the North Fork without a guide, but went with the South Fork of the Shenandoah when C.T. had an opening.

The Shenandoah Valley looks like the Shenandoah Valley is supposed to look: a little wild, a lot lovely. It seems a gentler wildness than the American west, but certainly wild enough. C.T. has the perfect background and demeanor for a river guide.  He grew up fishing in Western Virginia. He went to college there. He spent 34 years working for the National Park Service in Shenandoah National Park.  If you mention Stonewall Jackson, C.T.  doesn’t look at you like you’re an idiot.  He tells you a story about Stonewall Jackson’s troop movements. He told us the number of black bears per square mile through the Valley.  He told us about the tree kills from the eastern ash bark beetle and the hemlock wooly adelgild. He talked birds and birds and birds with Kris. We stopped a long while to watch a bald eagle guarding its nest.

You see that big blob in the middle of that terrible photo? That’s an eagle’s nest and it’s huge.  The blurry thing with the white head above it is the eagle. Kris dragged her 600mm lens to Virginia, but she didn’t have it with her in the boat.

Kris tells me by the way that when the bald eagle was named, “bald” meant “white,” not “hairless.”

We put in at Alma and floated seven miles downriver to Whitehouse Landing. I think I got that right. C.T. told us that during Stonewall Jackson’s Shenandoah campaign the bridges were burned at both Alma and Whitehouse Landing, which means that that there had been bridges where we put in and took out since before 1862. There was still traffic on the bridges, but we saw nobody on the rivers until the last landing.

We talked about our kids.  We talked about Patagonia versus Simms, and how the old Simms sandals made by Keen were great. We talked about the geography of Virginia.  Kris and I fished and C.T. rowed and told us where to cast.  We caught smallmouth,  then we caught more smallmouth, then we caught some smallmouth. The largest was about a pound, but who cares? We caught a lot of smallmouth.

C.T. said it was too early for poppers, and that everything  now was white streamers. We fished white Shenk’s streamers from Murray’s on 6 weights with floating lines and 2X 9’ leaders; they started as 9’ anyway. Over time I’d tied in bits and pieces of tippet until everything except the 2X was approximate.  Later in the morning I switched to a white dragon tail I’d tied up for largemouth. The smallmouth liked it, but there were lots of short takes. We talked about whether a stinger hook would work, but I’d read it ruined the action.  I’ve ordered some mini dragon tails, but I suspect they’re the regular size with a couple of inches of the fat end cut off. I’ll tie up some and send them along to C.T.

Google Earth

* * *

Late in the day we heard thunder. I shuttled C.T. back to his truck and Kris stayed with the boat–it was supposed to be easy duty.  While we were driving though the heavens opened.  Kris got soaked.  I got soaked in the short run from the car to where Kris stood drenched with the boat, but I forebore mentioning that terrible inconvenience to Kris. C.T. insisted he didn’t need help loading the boat in the rain and the wind and the lightning, and we gladly took him at his word, left him wrestling the boat, and fled for West Virginia. We also left a sweater and vest in his truck, which was a future pain for him, but things were in a bit of disarray. I also had to drive with wet socks and cold feet. I didn’t mention that to Kris either.

* * *

On Thursday, three days later and after West Virginia, it was still raining hard in Virginia. The mountain rivers may have been ok but we canceled our trip for Shenandoah Valley trout with Mossy Creek Outfitters.  We spent the night at Silver Lake Bed & Breakfast, near Harrisonburg, and finally got to eat breakfast at a bed and breakfast. We never do. We’re usually long gone before breakfast is served.

We drove Thursday to Harper’s Ferry National Historical Park, but I’ll save John Brown for Kansas.  The Shenandoah joins the Potomac at Harper’s Ferry, and the two rivers were running high and muddy. On Saturday while I’m writing this it’s still raining, and watching the Potomac out the window of our room in the Watergate Hotel there’s no more fishing gonna happen.

* * *

I’m fascinated by Stonewall Jackson, and in the Shenandoah Valley Jackson is everywhere. There’s a statue of a mounted Stonewall installed by the State of Virginia in the prime position on the First Bull Run Battlefield, superhero muscles bulging, facing down the Union artillery.  It should be moved to the entrance of the Shenandoah.

In Winchester there is the Stonewall Jackson Headquarters Museum. The Stonewall Jackson Highway runs through Front Royal. In Harrisonburg there was the Stonewall Jackson Inn, now closed but much loved, at least on the internet. In Monterey there was a Stonewall Jackson General Store.  Lexington, where Jackson taught at the Virginia Military Institute, is all Stonewall all the time, including a Stonewall Jackson Hotel.

Jackson was a nutcase: a hypochondriac, ruthless to his own men and the Union forces, obsessed with defeating the enemy, and madly religious. If Lee fought for the South out of misplaced loyalty, and others because of belief in the rightness of the cause, Jackson fought for the Confederacy because he believed God ordained it. He was an old school Presbyterian Calvinist, if such a thing could be anything but old school.

He also could not remain awake in church: he would sleep through sermons sitting rigidly upright. I’ve tried to emulate that in my own life, both at church and the opera. He sucked on lemons constantly, believed the blood pooled on the left side of his body (requiring him to hold his left arm in the air), and he would not or could not communicate anything of his plans to his subordinates. At VMI, he wrote out his lectures and read them aloud in a dull monotone.  If interrupted, he would begin again from the beginning.  He was hated as a teacher. He wasn’t exactly popular with his subordinates as a general. There are good arguments that he had Apsberger’s syndrome.

“Chancellorsville” Portrait, taken April 26, 1863. Library of Congress.

His 1862 Shenandoah campaign was brilliant, defeating the Union forces by superior knowledge of the terrain, by ruthlessly driving his troops, and by battle aggression.  It probably didn’t hurt that he had no empathy for others.

”Let us cross over the river and rest in the shade of the trees.” Stonewall Jackson memorial window, Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, Roanoke, Virginia. 

 

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West Virginia

In West Virginia we’re staying at Elk Springs Resort & Fly Shop on the Elk River to fish for trout, non-native brown and rainbows most likely.  When I called to book, I asked the reservations lady how far it was from the lodge to Washington D.C. .  She didn’t know.  However far it is, I suspect in some ways it’s further.

Virginia and Maryland share a lot of things, but most of all they share geography. Because of a compromise over the national bank that put the nation’s capitol in the South, they share Washington D.C.. On the east they share the Chesapeake Bay. Coastal Tidelands in each state rise from the Chesapeake and both states turn into a fertile Piedmont region above a fall line.  On the west of both are the Allegheny Mountains, which are part of the Appalachian Mountains.

Interestingly, the Appalachians were named by a Texan, Cabeza de Vaca. Not really, but they were named apparently by de Vaca’s Narvaez expedition.

The Southern Appalachians, the mountains of West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Virginia, Maryland, and North Carolina, are what I think of culturally as Appalachia, but who knows?  Appalachia may stretch from New York to Georgia. I used to think of the area as isolated, violent, poor, and uneducated, with clan feuds and moonshining. Now I can throw in opioids, meth, and Trump voters.

Some of that stereotyping is fair, too. West Virginia, in the heart of Appalachia, became the bellwether state for articles on why white working class voters were voting for President Trump. And they did in West Virginia, by 67.9 percent to 26.2 percent. My guess is they voted for President Trump because they knew Mrs. Clinton thought them a basket of deplorables.

West Virginia had the highest rate of opioid deaths in the U.S. in 2016, at 43.4 deaths per 100,000. Actually, at 75.4 years, West Virginia has the lowest life expectancy of any state except Mississippi.  The only measured category of death where West Virginia isn’t running with the front of the pack is Alzheimers, one supposes because people don’t live long enough to die of Alzheimers. You want to die by accident? Move to West Virginia. You want to die by suicide or gunshot or meth or black lung? Move to West Virginia. Your chances are usually right up there at the top.

Here’s the oddest thing about West Virginia: it’s 93.6 percent white. If someone told me that a state was 93.6 percent white, I’d assume we were talking about Idaho or Utah. Virginia is 68 percent white, 19 percent black.  Maryland is 58 percent white, 29 percent black. West Virginia is 93.6 percent white. That’s a lot of white folk.

Settlement by whites was pretty thorough, but it didn’t really kick off until the mid-18th century.  The French and Indian War was fought in part over the Ohio Valley, which stretches from Pennsylvania down to Kentucky, with West Virginia at its heart. After the release of claims by the Iroquois and Cherokee (surely absent violence), settlers started in. Ok, they started earlier, but they started in now with England’s blessing.  First were Germans, and lots of Scots via Ulster, the Scotch-Irish.

From early on, West Virginia was different from the rest of Virginia.  It was subsistence living that didn’t support slaves, at least until coal mining.

Louis Hine, 1911

During the Civil War there were two areas in the seceding states that were strongly pro-Union, Western Virginia and Eastern Tennessee.  It was Lincoln’s dream that Eastern Tennessee would separate from the Confederacy, but it never did.  West Virginia did. On Amazon you can still find books about why the separation of West Virginia from Virginia was unlawful and unconstitutional.  Get over it.

Coal was the 18th century’s oil. It was the rural industry that turned us into a modern nation. It was and is a bloody, dangerous, unforgiving industry. Coal gave us some of the most violent labor disputes in the nation’s history: think machine guns mounted on train cars and fired into union strikers. Over 150 years coal gave us Mother Jones, strip mining and mountain-top removal and other ecological destruction, mine deaths, and a purchased West Virginia supreme court. it’s all Hatfields and McCoys, one way or the other. It’s always The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia, but sometimes at the corporate level.

Hills and hollers. It’s beautiful, a friend said. People use words like hollers when they talk about West Virginia.

When I put together my playlist of songs for West Virginia, it wasn’t very long. There was one person who I greatly admire but didn’t expect, Bill Withers, and there was lots of Mountain Music. And of course there was that John Denver theme: take me home.  It’s the most common theme of West Virginia songs: “My Home Among the Hills,” “West Virginia My Home,” “I Wanna Go Back to West Virginia,” “Green Rolling Hills.”  In our minds we love West Virginia. In our minds West Virginia is the idyllic wildness we yearn for.

I also put Appalachian Spring on the play list, and Mark O’Connor’s brilliant Appalachia Waltz.  O’Connor is from Seattle, and of course Copland was a Jewish kid from Brooklyn.  We all have our notions about Appalachia. Take me home.

***

I did finally get a decent photo of a bluegill, a tiny thing that hit a tiny yellow popper and as is their want hit it hard enough to take in the whole thing.  Lepomis machrochyrus. I originally misidentified the fish because it didn’t look like the pictures of a bluegill on the Texas Parks and Wildlife website, and maybe my fish is something entirely different.  Sunfish are wanton little devils, spawning from May to August, and apparently they hybridize readily among species.  This one has the wrong color fins and the colors generally seem off. It’s just as likely that this fish is the product of some unfortunate parental liaison between two breeds of sunfish.

I caught a nice bass on the same tiny fly,  next to the grass in a pond backwater.

 

 

 

 

 

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Virginia

We fish in Virginia on May 14 on the South Fork of the Shenandoah River for smallmouth and May 17 in the Shenandoah Valley for trout.  I’ve been getting ready, both fishing-wise and Virginia-wise.

Virginia-wise, I have 4096 10th great grandparents. It’s nothing special: most people do. Half of them were women, which is how that works. The one 10th great grandparent I can identify  is pretty interesting, though with 4095 others out there somewhere our connection is pretty remote.  Her name was Cicely or Sisely or Cecily Reynolds Bailey Jordan Farrar. Husbands died off and she married a lot. Other than spelling, a lot is known about Cicely.  She even has her own Wikipedia page, though like a lot of Wikipedia pages written by descendants it includes some information and some wishful thinking. She arrived in Jamestown from England in 1610, right after starvation had killed off most of the colony, on the Swan.  She was 11, and her parents weren’t with her. While she likely did have parents, there’s not much certainty in their identity. Her probable daughter (there’s a bit of probability involved), Temperance Bailey Brown Cocke, my 9th great grandmother, was born in Virginia in 1617, making her one of the earliest surviving English children born in the New World.  To put things in perspective, the Mayflower arrived in Plymouth in 1620.

She was the first of my many English ancestors who arrived in Virginia between 1610 and the Revolution.  There was a pile of them. I suspect that’s not uncommon for Southern folk whose ancestry is mostly English. Oh sure, there were outliers. There were some Ulster Scots who emigrated to Pennsylvania, and an Irishman who emigrated to Maryland, but even they pretty much moved on to Virginia. They weren’t all English-Scots-Irish-Welsh either.  There was at least one set of French Huguenots and a German. But all-in-all Virginia seems to have been really good at importing English and Africans.

As a general rule the English-Scot-Welsh-Irish immigrants to Virginia were largely of two groups: relatively wealthy, relatively aristocratic immigrants who started arriving in the Tidewater in larger numbers in the 1630s, and their white servants and manual labor. Aristocratic British did not actually expect to do manual labor, and they received grants of land for each person they sponsored to bring over.  They apparently brought over cousins for company and the poor for heavy lifting, and Britain used the colonies to clean out its poor and its petty criminals. In her study of poor whites, White Trash: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in American, Nancy Isenberg starts with the importation of Southern workers: the poor are always with us, but they were particularly with us down in Virginia where an underclass was imported as cheap labor.

It was really a pretty lousy deal.  If you came over as an indentured servant, you were the property of your master for five to seven years. Life expectancy in Colonial Virginia was less than 25 years. The chance of surviving a five-year term of servitude was roughly 50-50. You could be sold.  You could be beaten. You were dependent on the jerk who brought you over for your shelter and your daily bread. These were not kind times.

Of course there were worse things.  There was slavery. Slavery was for life, no 50-50. Children inherited the enslavement of their parents. Worst of all slavery was premised on the slaveholder’s certainty in the African slave’s moral and genetic inferiority (not that the British aristocrat wasn’t certain of the indentured servant’s moral and genetic inferiority). African slavery doesn’t begin in Virginia, African slavery was the norm in Portuguese Brazil and the West Indies, but by 1619 there were Africans in Jamestown, and by the late 17th Century the Virginia aristocracy ran out of white people–giving the lie to Bingo Long.  Birth rates were down in Britain, and the  British economy was booming. It needed its poor for its own devices. David Brion Davis in Inhuman Bondage: The Rise and Fall of Slavery in the New World notes that in Virginia in 1670 white servants outnumbered black slaves four to one. By the 1690s slaves outnumbered white servants four to one. That’s a sea-change.

The Virginians had tried to enslave the Native Americans, but it didn’t work well.  They were susceptible to European disease and unfamiliar with industrial agriculture. Africans on the other hand were familiar with large-scale agriculture and European disease. But an odd thing happened in Virginia.  Throughout the New World–and these are very rough numbers–about 43 percent of slaves, mostly male,  went to Brazil, about 41 percent of slaves, mostly male, went to the West Indies, and about 5 to 7 percent, still mostly male, went to the North American British Colonies.  There were worse things than Virginia. Slave life on a Brazil or West Indies sugar plantation was short and brutal. Slaves were a replaceable commodity, and life expectancy for slaves was two to three years.

It doesn’t deserve praise, but raising tobacco or wheat was easier on slaves than sugar production, and the African population in Virginia grew. Importation of African slaves into Virginia slowed,  and over a few generations the original mostly male population became (as these things do) a mix of males and females.  By 1800 there were about 346,000 slaves in Virginia, most native-born. By the early 1800s the two largest slave markets in the U.S. were in New Orleans and Richmond. Virginia had more slaves than it needed for labor, and it exported its slaves, largely descendants of the Igbo from modern Nigeria, down South for cash.

Virginia also exported white people, though there was more self-determinism involved.  By the early 1800s I had no ancestors left in Virginia.  By the Civil War they had settled at one time or another throughout the South: Georgia, Maryland, Mississippi, Arkansas, Kentucky, Tennessee, South Carolina, North Carolina, Missouri, and of course Texas.  The only Southern places missing seem to have been Louisiana, Florida, Delaware, and West Virginia, and as far as I can tell none went North.  At least for my ancestors, Colonial Virginia was our Ellis Island, and that’s not an uncommon Southern pattern for whites.  They also appear to have mostly married and had children with their own kind, and stuck to the same kind of cultural identity.  When my parents met and married in 1949 in Crane, way out in West Texas near Odessa, two of their separate family ancestors, two of my 9th great grandfathers (of which there are only 1024, and 1024 9th great grandmothers–that’s the way this works) were the two representative in the Virginia House of Burgesses from Henrico County, Virginia, in 1644. The families were still neighbors after 300 years.

There’s a good book on Virginia em- and im-migration, white and black, Bound Away: Virginia and the Westward Movement, by Fischer and Kelly. Why is it that scholarly works all require a colon? There’s a bad joke there I think. In addition to English and Africans, the Virginians also imported brown trout, rainbow trout, smallmouth, and tobacco. My 10th great grandmother’s second husband’s land, Jordan’s Journey, bordered land owned by John Rolfe who brought tobacco to Virginia from the West Indies and married Pocahontas.

Meanwhile our saltwater skiff is still in San Antonio. The boat builder is repairing Harvey-damaged boats, so we need to be patient. I’m sill fishing for bass and sunfish, out of a canoe and from the bank, and have been trying to get some decent sunfish photos.  On Go-Pro I’ve use a chest strap and taken photos of my forearms, just above the fish, and a cap to take photos of the back of my head. I’m just not very good at it.