Visit Natural Bridge (without actually seeing the bridge)

The scene is total chaos. To my left, a Yankee soldier dangles from the jaws of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, inches from becoming lunchmeat.

To my right, a bald man emerges from an outhouse in utter shock. In a nearby tree, a gorilla flaunts a pair of trousers he stole from his nearly naked victim below.
Welcome to Dinosaur Kingdom, the ultimate roadside attraction.

Like any good roadside attraction, Dinosaur Kingdom is a spectacle. Fiberglass dinosaurs take on a Civil War soldiers in what can be described as a diorama on steroids.

It’s American kitsch at it’s best, and it’s right in Lynchburg’s backyard.

Just an hour’s drive northwest of Lynchburg, Dinosaur Kingdom is one of several roadside attractions at Natural Bridge, a town named for a massive rock formation estimated to be 500 million years old.

The bridge itself — long a tourist draw — is shrouded in intrigue. Thomas Jefferson, who once owned the bridge, called it “the most sublime of nature’s works.” George Washington is rumored to have carved his initials high up on its wall.

But it’s the quirky roadside attractions that intrigue me. An ambitious tourist can spend an entire day in Natural Bridge without ever seeing The Bridge.

The Wax Museum

Atheists beware. The Wax Museum, like many things in Virginia, has some serious Christian undertones. It begins with Adam and Eve, and ends with the crucifixion of Christ. The majority of the exhibits, though, are devoted to local history and folklore.

My favorite is Archibald “Bear” Tolley — a hulking man with bulging eyes and a great brown beard. He is joined by a 7-foot bear bearing a wicked set of pearly whites. As the legend goes, the salty-tongued Tolley killed between 99 and 385 bears in his lifetime. Ironically, he died not by bear but by blood poisoning from stepping on a nail.

A close second is Meriwether Lewis, a.k.a. Lewis of the exploration duo Lewis and Clark. Lewis, as it turns out, was a stud. He’s one part young Dustin Hoffman and one part Jake Gyllenhaal. This leads me to a puzzling question: Can a wax figure be “hot?” (Insert bad punch line about melting here.)

I bid farewell to Lewis and head into a dark theater for a dramatic re-enactment of the Last Supper and the crucifixion, complete with a wax Jesus.

And that’s exactly what I did.

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Safari Park

The basic premise of Safari Park is to drive through 180 acres of Virginia heartland while feeding exotic animals.

It’s a sight to behold. Entire families lounge in the beds of pickup trucks, snapping pictures and petting the wild beasts. It’s not uncommon to see to see a minivan rumbling down the road with a 2,000-pound bison hot on its trail.

Like our great nation, Safari Park is a melting pot. There are African zebra, Japanese deer, North American bison, Middle Eastern camels, Australian emu and White-Bearded Wildebeests. Every continent is represented, except for Antarctica, and almost all roam together through the same grassy fields.
To spare my car (and my sanity), I sign up for the wagon ride, a.k.a. the “buffet on wheels.” Our tour guide offers a few warnings before we set off. Do not feed the zebras, he says. The zebras can be very aggressive. And beware the spitting llamas.

When we pull into the park, my nostrils are bombarded with the smell of animal poop. But soon I adjust. I turn my attention to the spectacle unfolding around me. Animals saunter up to our wagon, and stick their snouts into our outstretched buckets. The brave among us pet them on the head; the less brave are content with just a picture.
There’s no doubt that roadside attractions are meant to shock and entertain; that’s what I love about them. But I wonder how natural it is for all these exotic animals to be living together, chasing buckets of feed and breathing in car exhaust all day.

If you can get past that, it’s pretty entertaining.

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Dinosaur Kingdom

The scene is Civil War Virginia, 1863. A group of Union soldiers stumbles across a colony of dinosaurs (plus one gorilla) in the forest. The Yanks try to use the dinos as weapons of mass destruction against the South, but the dinos turn against them, and all hell breaks loose.

The story is told through larger-than-life statues created by a larger-than-life character, Mark Cline a.k.a. “Professor Cline.” The Waynesboro native has made a career of crafting handmade fiberglass sculptures for attractions across the country.

Dinosaur Kingdom winds through the wilderness on a weed-prone footpath that Cline occasionally trims with a machete.

Today, Cline guides me through the attraction, explaining his vision. He walks with a swagger, and sports an Indiana Jones-style hat and muddy boots. He talks over a backdrop of roars and growls.

“I wanted to create a whimsical, impossible atmosphere that people would find fascinating,” Cline says.

Cline certainly succeeds. Dinosaur Kingdom is weird and delightful. Words do it no justice.

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The Pink Cadillac Diner

For lunch, I stop at The Pink Cadillac Diner, a ‘50s-style mom-and-pop joint offering traditional American fare: soups and salads, burgers and sandwiches, and bigger entrees, like the fried clams and sirloin steak. I settle for a basic hamburger and French fries. At $5.50, it hits the spot and doesn’t break the bank.

But the Pink Cadillac Diner is just as much about the experience as it is about the food. The inside is decked with retro décor — vinyl records, an old Texaco pump and pinups of icons like Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Elvis.

Outside offers more photo opportunities. You’ve got your pick of posing with King Kong or Humpty Dumpty (two more of Cline’s creations).

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The Toy Museum

The Toy Museum is a windowless room, overflowing with — toys. Star Wars, Ninja Turtles, Chuck Norris action figures, cornhusk dolls, Barbies, Civil War play sets. You name it; they’ve got it.

The collection belongs to Colquitt “C.P.” Brackett of Roanoke, and represents three generations of toy collecting. Some of the toys date to 1740.

I wander the aisles in search of that long-forgotten toy that will awaken a flood of childhood memories. Finally, I spot him, above my reach on the top shelf: Teddy Ruxpin, “The

Original Animated Storytelling Toy.” I have a vague notion that this stiff-jointed bear once read me bedtime stories. And there he is, still in the box, staring at me, arms open.

I love the toys, but can’t help thinking there’s something odd about the set-up. Maybe it’s the dusty shelves. Maybe it’s that some of the toys still sport price tags. Then it hits me:

Almost all of the more than 45,000 toys stand on open bookcases, vulnerable to curious fingers (hence, the “Do not touch” sign).
But like everything else at Natural Bridge, these homely elements only add to the charm.

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Monster Museum

Next to the dinos is another Cline creation: Professor Cline’s Haunted Monster Museum and Dark Maze. Even in daylight, the Victorian stone mansion has a menacing presence. Vines creep up the walls and windows, a snake slithers across the roof and a huge skull with bulging eyes stands watch over the front yard.

I tag along with a group of three moms and their three 11- and 12-year-old boys. There is a “no scare tour” for families with young children, but these boys want the real deal.
Cline leads us into a dusty living room with cobwebs and lurking shadows. He transforms into a sniveling landlord, and describes the terror that lies within, the horrible monsters that haunt your nightmares. When it’s time to venture into the darkness of the next room, the boys are reluctant.

“What the heck, man, you go first. I don’t want to get eaten,” says one, nudging his friend into the darkness beyond. The kid sounds genuinely scared.
I won’t spoil the best parts, but I can say I made it through without bailing early at the “chicken door.”

The Monster Museum (more like a funhouse) lives up to expectations and embodies Cline’s flair for the theatrical. It spooks, jolts and startles us through dark passages, a spinning vortex and several well-timed surprises.

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Foamhenge

Our last stop: Foamhenge. It’s a replica of Stonehenge, the mythical rock monument in England that dates to prehistoric times, and it’s made out of foam. The Professor Cline creation stands tall on a grassy bluff overlooking the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Although the facts are debated, Stonehenge took thousands of years to complete and tons of manpower. As for Foamhenge, it was built in six weeks by four or five Mexicans and one crazy white man, Cline says. Foamhenge first appeared in 2004 on April Fool’s Day, and has since become a permanent attraction. It’s easy to see why.
Walking through the replica you almost forget it’s made of foam. And, of course, there are Cline’s signature touches, like a statue of Merlin, who according to (one) myth levitated the stones into place, and a humorous sign warning tourists of the consequences of vandalizing the foam (one year in prison, fines up to $10,000 and a potential scratch on you car by the crazy man who keeps watch over the creation).

With Foamhenge, my day at Natural Bridge is complete. I have managed to see almost everything except The Natural Bridge.
If I come back, I’ll actually see the bridge. And I’ll make it a night visit, so I can see the laser light show, “The Drama of Creation,” under the massive arch.
If you’re going:

Prices and hours vary for the attractions at Natural Bridge. In peak summer season, most of the attractions are open daily. For a price list and hours of operation for Dinosaur Kingdom, The Haunted Monster Museum, The Toy Museum and The Wax Museum, visit www.natural bridgeva.com or call (540) 291-2122 or toll free (800) 533-1410. For the Pink Cadillac Diner, call (540) 291-2378. For Safari Park, visit www.virginia safaripark.com or call (540) 291-3205. Foamhenge is free and open year-round. It’s a half-mile north of Nature Bridge on U.S. 11.

Barry, who writes for The News & Advance, can be reached at lbarry@newsadvance.com.

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