You don’t have to go far to get away. With summer in full swing, we asked C-VILLE staffers to take a little time off, hop in the car, and explore the small towns that sit just beyond Charlottesville’s borders. From avocado toast in Waynesboro to a pit stop in historic Scottsville, these quick jaunts prove that adventure—and a good meal, bookstore, or art gallery—is often just a short drive away.
Books, beer, and bluegrass
My partner and I pulled into downtown Orange just after noon on a sunny summer Saturday. Parking on Main Street at Taylor Park, we stepped into the shade of the public space and navigated pebbled pathways dotted with antique streetlights to check out the sparkling fountain, a mural dedicated to Second Bank & Trust, and a memorial to Alexander Spotswood—Virginia’s lieutenant governor from 1710 to 1722.
A few doors down from the park, we checked out Spelled Ink Bookstore, a lovely little shop with gifts, new and used books, games, hobby supplies, and a calendar full of community events. Working our way down Main Street, we popped in and out of several more antique and gift shops filled with furniture, local artworks, jewelry, homegoods, and ephemera.
Continuing on, we stopped to see the historic Orange Train Station, built in 1910. Passenger service was discontinued in the 1970s, with the Colonial Revival-style building now housing the Orange County Visitors Center. Across the street, we welcomed the free entry and air-conditioned environment of The Arts Center in Orange, where we took in an exhibition of landscape paintings by central Virginia-based artist Michael Meredith, and picked through crafts, photographs, and prints made by various local creatives.
After a quick drive down the road, we stopped at Iron Pipe Alewerks for a lunch of pizza, wings, and beers. I went with the 4 Horsemen of Helles German-style golden lager—the venue’s most popular selection, and the 2021 Bronze Medal winner at the Virginia Craft Beer Cup—which balanced out the rich and salty lemon pepper wings and PBR pie (pickle, bacon, ranch) we ordered.
To finish the afternoon, we walked a couple doors down to Salvagewrights Ltd., an architectural antiques depot housing stacks of doors, piles of chairs, stained glass windows, vintage ephemera, and architectural elements. A group of five older gentlemen plucked bluegrass on stringed instruments while a few folks listened. It was a fitting end to an afternoon filled with history, artistry, and small-town community.—CM Turner
Right here in the river city
I wasn’t sure what to think as I made the 30-minute trek south from Charlottesville to Scottsville, but to my surprise, my arrival to the town of less than 600 residents was met by a lively community that has managed to stave off the ghost-town moniker that has plagued too many small towns across the country.
Scottsville was nearly decimated by the advent of the train and automobile, but found new life in both celebrating its rich history and advertising its unique charm and beauty as a town nestled alongside the James River.
Exploring that beauty is where my adventure began, as I found my way out of the beating sun and into the shaded campground adjacent to the riverbed. Other people had the same idea, and happily shared some of the local lore with me.
After cooling off, I headed to the Canal Basin Square, where Scottsville’s history came to life with displays of the exact bateaus used along the river during Colonial times. Just across the road from the Scottsville Museum, this unique self-guided tour displayed the rise and fall of the former lifeline of the Virginia economy.
A short walk from Canal Basin Square is the main drag, dotted with cute boutiques offering a range of goods and services, from cupcakes at Baked on the James to fermented foods and herbal supplements at Farmstead Ferments.
After exploring the shops, I found refuge in the air-conditioning at Baine’s Books & Coffee. The extensive collection of books paired with the friendly staff provided a cozy vibe as I meandered about the shop with my afternoon pick-me-up in hand.
As I left—with a sip of coffee remaining in one hand and three books in the other—I grew excited for my next nature stop. Going uphill, I first arrived at SCAN Land, where an interspersing of arts in nature can be found through unique sculptures strewn about the landscape. From there, a trail connecting SCAN Land to the beautiful Van Clief Nature Area allowed me to find another shady safe haven while walking lakeside.
As the sun began to set, my time in Scottsville was approaching its end. Before heading back up the road toward Charlottesville, I made two final stops: James River Brewery and Tavern on the James. On opposite sides of the street, the locations serve as hot spots for locals and visitors alike.
James River Brewery was encompassed by a communal atmosphere. Whether it be reminiscing about the latest trivia night or discussing landscaping plans, patrons and employees were happy to engage in any and all conversations and share all they could about the wonderful place they call home.
Tavern on the James, meanwhile, presented the lively atmosphere you’d hope for in a local diner. A busy bar and tables hosting party after party characterized dinner service, as casual conversations were carried across the restaurant.—Patrick McDowell
The pursuit of happiness
It’s summertime and I have a 5-year-old daughter, so rarely do I get a moment all to myself. But one Wednesday morning, I dropped my girl at The Front Porch’s summer camp and headed down 64, where exit 99 would lead me into the heart of Waynesboro.
Specifically, I was interested in Happ Coffee, for which I’d recently begun seeing road signs up and down 81 on my trips to visit family in Harrisonburg. What does it mean? I wondered. Happ-y? Happ-enstance? I didn’t get an answer by the end of my visit, but I did feel satisfied with my iced oat milk latte and avocado toast (add a soft-boiled egg). The dining chairs in the café space—part of a larger 3,100-square-foot plot in the Virginia Metalcrafters building—matched the ones I have at my own kitchen table, so I felt right at home.
From there, I headed to Main Street where I stopped in at Rusticae, peeked in the windows of Stone Soup Books (the indie bookstore moved downtown and the grand opening was scheduled for—just my luck—the very next day), and tried to scope out the Augusta County Railroad Museum for a future visit. It’s only open on Saturdays, but the pictures online promise miniature city setups with train sets chugging throughout. Sounds like something my girl would be into.
I turned up Wayne Street to poke around adorn., a charming boutique filled with small-batch clothing lines and locally made jewelry. A highlight there was the beaded bracelets of Doris Deavor, whom owner Katie Harris says beads as a side hustle while she watches TV at night.
Harris directed me next door to Pyramid, a metaphysical supply store stocked to the brim with everything from stones and tinctures to animal skulls and tarot cards. I loved the wall of spell herbs; it was a little like being on the set of Practical Magic.
From there, also on a recommendation from Harris, I made my way to Shenandoah Valley Art Center, a spot much like Charlottesville’s own McGuffey Art Center, where curious minds are invited to browse the gallery space as well as the artists’ workshops. I had the place to myself; a staff member needed to run out to pick up a sculpture right as I arrived, but told me to make myself at home. By then, the coffee had done its work, so I wandered to the restroom—home to a delightful little gallery of pay-what-you-will art. It was here that I picked up my souvenir for the day: a print of three bright tulips by Analog Artworks’ Alex Neckopulos.
Still satiated by my Happ(ifying?) avo toast, I briefly toyed with the idea of a cone of Kline’s strawberry shortcake ice cream for a late lunch (whoo! Mom’s day out!), but thought better of it. I’ll save that for next time.—Caite Hamilton
Good day Crozet
I rarely spend time in Crozet, which is silly, considering it’s 20 minutes away and a travel destination for its wineries, breweries, wellness practitioners, art studios, and natural beauty.
Once an easy-to-overlook (and often mispronounced) pastoral stretch with a small-town center defined by its amazing pizza parlor, Crozet now thrives as a massively developed country cousin of Charlottesville.
So, seeking respite on a hot summer morning, I turned my wheels west toward the aqua haze of the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, aiming for a short hike and a dip in the lake at Mint Springs Valley Park.
My first stop was Praha Bohemian Bakery on Three Notch’d Road, where it’s clear that the husband-and-wife owners put their heart and soul into the art of baking. I gawked at the sweet and savory beauties, got a quick lesson on Czech pastry, and left with a spinach artichoke Koláč in hand. Around the corner, I pulled in at The Yellow Mug to reup my caffeine intake. This charming coffee shop, set in a cottage, also boasts tantalizing pastries, and makes an excellent iced chai latte.
Arriving at Mint Springs, I paid the entry fee and was delighted to spot just three other cars in the parking lot. It was high-noon hot, so I shortened my hike, and made a 15-minute sweat up and back on the Fire Trail, before hitting the “beach.”
Upper Lake (one of three at the park) is an absolute gem of a swimming hole. The temperate, shark-free waters were clear and clean. Spring-fed pockets of cold water rushed up from the bottom, while I drifted about, gazing up at the blue sky surrounded by the leafy green fluorescence of Little Yellow Mountain. There was even enough trucked-in sand to build tall castles and crust up my flip-flops.
Leaving the springs, Chiles Peach Orchard harkened, with its fresh blackberries, nectarines, sunflowers, and all the peach delights (pies, donuts, cookies), plus wine slushies, and ice cream.
Refreshed from the swim, I barely noticed the 110-degree heat radiating off the parking-lot blacktop, as I sat on Chiles’ farm porch clutching a cone of peach ice cream and gazing over the fence at row upon row of flower gardens in full, glorious bloom.—Tami Keaveny
Head for the hills
My grandparents have lived in Nellysford my entire life, but until a Saturday in early July, I had only been to places in Nelson County—Iron & Ale, Devils Backbone, Chirios, and the ever-popular Wintergreen—with family. Rather than relive my childhood visits to my Nana and Dedo’s house, I opted to hit Three Notch’d Brewery.
One of my favorite parts of a trip to Nelson is the drive along Route 151. It can be busy, and there are sometimes cops waiting with a radar over the next big hill, but the journey through lush greenery and rolling mountains is gorgeous. (Pro tip: Download your directions and whatever you plan to listen to before you head out—reception can be a bit spotty.)
On my way in, I spotted what I thought was light rain coming over the mountains. It was, in fact, an all-out downpour, which made for a perilously puddle-filled dash from the car into the brewery. Even with an umbrella, I ended up just as drenched as friends I met on the restaurant’s covered front porch.
Soaked, we slopped into the brewery for brunch. I ended up with a mimosa (heavy on the orange juice, ahem), with pretzel bites and mac ‘n’ cheese. Not a traditional brunch, I know, but I’m a vegetarian, so the chicken and waffles, steak and egg burrito, and biscuit and gravy platter were out.
Between our discussion of everything “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” my friends and I tried to parse the seasoning on the pretzel bites. If anyone else has had them, feel free to weigh in. We landed somewhere between “garlicky” and ”vaguely Italian.”
Far and away, the highlight was sitting on the glassed-in porch and catching up, staying cozy through the deluge.
When we finally parted ways, the rain had eased, but it was still too soggy for the outdoorsy items on my itinerary. With my plans to finally (finally!) hike Humpback Rock punted to another day, I ended up just down the road at my grandparents’ house, where I spent the rest of the afternoon. Their house isn’t a tourist attraction, but I’d still recommend that anyone in the mood for scenic views and sips with friends check out Nelson proper—there’s a good shot you’ll have a great time, rain or shine.—Catie Ratliff
Finger-lickin’ good
On a recent July morning, my husband and I decided to shake up our Saturday routine. Instead of visiting the vendors at City Market and IX Art Park, we headed 30 minutes northeast to Gordonsville, where our first stop was the farmers’ market in the parking lot of Patch Brewing Co. It’s much smaller than Charlottesville’s two Saturday markets, but it doesn’t lack for perfect peaches, peppers, tomatoes, sweet corn, and squash. With sacks full of fruit and veggies, my husband moved on to the Kismet Roasters coffee stall, while I bought a jar of Bad Daughters’ Boozy Berry jam, and a bouquet of blooms from Bear Meadows Flower Farm.
From there, it was a mile to Gordonville’s historic downtown and two iced dirty chai lattes from Krecek Kakes Bakery and Coffeeshop. We enjoyed our drinks from seats overlooking the town’s straight-from-a-Nancy-Meyers’-movie Main Street, still adorned with American flags from the previous week’s Independence Day celebration. Next up: Jackson & Company Market to peruse not only the pastries and grab ‘n’ go offerings, but everything from cookbooks and knives to scarves and baskets. And then we ambled aimlessly, popping in to Annie Gould Gallery to admire work from dozens of local and national artists, and the Weaver Street Shops (the Native American jewelry! the quilts!). While I dress shopped at Posh, my husband hit The Exchange Hotel and Civil War Museum and then the Visitor Center, where he learned that Gordonsville, established in 1813, became the “Fried Chicken Capital of the World” thanks to Black women who sold chicken to train passengers back when the city was a major railroad hub.
Lunch was at the Ice House, known for its fried chicken (natch!), which was as yummy as advertised. We timed our meal to catch some of the women’s Wimbledon final on the restaurant’s big screen, but Poland’s Iga Swiatek destroyed American Amanda Anisimova 6-0, 6-0, in less than an hour, so we only saw the match’s final rally.
Stuffed, we crossed the street to the town’s charming public library, housed in a former Catholic church rectory, and then meandered back to our car, certain we’d return on October 4 for—wait for it—Gordonsville’s Fried Chicken Festival.—Susan Sorensen
