More about Gulfport in coming posts, but for now it's time to return to our Greenbrier adventure. When we last left our hero and heroine they were boarding a west-bound train at Union Station. One of the things I like about train travel is that one gets to sneak a peak into the back yards of people living adjacent to the tracks. Sadly the train windows were filthy, precluding decent photography, so you'll just have to imagine the many wondrous sights I witnessed as the Cardinal glided along. I use the word "glided" in the loosest sense. The rail bed between Charlottesville and White Sulphur Springs is rather lumpy.
|A view of the right hand side wing. The other side is essentially a mirror image.|
Alice kept us quite busy touring nearby Lewisburg and so I didn't get to sample the bunker tour. Perhaps next time. I did however get out on a couple of occasions to walk around the grounds. I wanted to see the original Sulphur Spring.
|After a number of wrong turnings I discovered that the Greenbrier possess its own fire department.|
|Inside were two fire trucks, one of which was an impressive OREN. Sadly no one was about and I couldn't find an unlocked door. This photo of the OREN through the garage door windows will have to suffice.|
|Nice paper birches.|
|The views of the Allegheny Mountains are wonderful.|
|Looking out at the mountains from one of the gardens near the north entrance of the hotel.|
|I walked and walked but still no sign of the elusive spring or its Oracle--surely every spring worth looking for has an Oracle to consult. I decided to head back to the hotel and consult a map.|
|Thar she blows. the elusive White Sulphur Spring. Will the Oracle be in session? The resort uses the shape of this cupola as its icon.|
|Zooming in on the hot spring.|
|Hebe, the daughter of Zeus and Hera (and the Goddess of Youth), had the day off and thus was represented by statuary only. Perhaps Ponce de Leon should have come to WV instead of wasting time in FLA.|
|I next went looking for the President's Cottage|
|Could this be it? To hell with the hotel, next time I'm booking this!|
|My time was running out and I needed to retrace my way back to the hotel; the train home was arriving at 11:30 am.|