Photography By Kirsten Beckerman
It wasn’t at the fanciest mountain resort in Virginia, a luxury city oasis, an acclaimed Sedona escape, or even in Tuscany that I had my best massage experience. It was just two hours from home, in comparatively modest Elkton, Md., at the Elk Forge Bed & Breakfast Inn and Retreat.
I arrive a bit late, with barely a moment to take in the details of the 200-plus-year-old inn, one of the original buildings in a pre-Revolutionary War complex that produced pig iron and wheat. I need to rush off to that massage appointment, so I drop my overnight bag in the Philadelphia Room, the original master bedroom of the inn.
Luckily, the spa is just steps away, in an old carriage house on the site of the original barn. Perfectly pleasant, clean, and quiet, its only décor is a small fountain in one corner of the plain white space. No matter; there is no wait here, and substance triumphs style: The massage is transforming. My therapist—actually my host, LeAnn Lenderman—probes deep into my shoulders and back and puts me in a twilight zone of images and almost dreams. She uses an intoxicating spicy oil, eliminating the only true spa burden (besides cost), choosing from a menu of scents before a treatment. LeAnn’s “greatest hits” approach trumps the many more ordinary massages I’ve had: Her technique is as relaxing as Swedish and had the stretch of Thai, the pressure of shiatsu, and flow of lomi lomi.
Meandering around afterward, I get to peek into a few rooms not yet occupied by weekend guests. I was already impressed by the appointments of my own room, a lovely old stained glass window (an expanding illusion in the compact bathroom), the prim high bed, and perfect-for-reading bay window alcove.
My favorite of the others is the Brandywine suite, with its four-wall hand-painted mural of George Washington and the Brandywine Valley. Its ball-and-claw tub, sitting against an exposed stone wall, is original to Elk Forge.
When I run into LeAnn, now wearing her “owner’s hat,” she is happy to give me the rest of the tour. Each of the twelve rooms and suites is themed but not corny. LeAnn and Harry were inspired by day-trip destinations: the Bay, Philadelphia, Lancaster, Fair Hill nature preserve, and area golf courses.
More interesting than the themed rooms, though, is the Lendermans’ story. LeAnn, a Californian, and Harry, a native of neighboring New Castle County, Del., raised five boys within the stone walls of this circa- 1760 manor house, which Harry bought back in 1980. As their offspring left for college and church missions, the hospitality idea they had long discussed (together and with a group of encouraging friends) became a reality. The inn opened in 2000.
The property was perfect for reincarnation as an inn. But before taking the plunge to renovate their own property, the couple took notes while on a stay in an area B&B and traveled in similar style through New England and Europe. In addition to updating plumbing and electrical in the main house, they added bathrooms to each room and doubled the inn’s size. It’s now more than 10,000 square feet.
Both seem to love their new vocation. “I am constantly surprised by how many guests express that running an inn is their dream,” says LeAnn, who wonders aloud how many dream of hand-ironing sheets and pillowcases or completing the paperwork to apply for a liquor license. Chores aside, LeAnn and Harry express genuine affection for the parade of people who come through. “Most are very sedate in their habits and thoroughly enjoyable,” says LeAnn, “but I will never forget a little old lady who floated through our bedroom in a long white nightie, used our bathroom, and shut our door on the way out. It was a guest, not a ghost. We remembered to lock our own door after that.”
When LeAnn rushes off to greet new guests entering the foyer, I wander into the conservatory, a grand sunroom on the back of the house. It’s a blustery afternoon, so curling up with a book on a wicker sofa seems just the thing. Listening to rain hit the high walls full of windows, I do not regret choosing laziness over fitness. At peace, I ignore the workout equipment available one level down, next to the billiard room.
The spa draws many of the guests, but playing chess in the living room or borrowing a movie from the video library are equally nice alternatives on a day like this. But the soft drizzle falling doesn’t stop one man from honing his skills on the putting green on the back lawn.
Dinner isn’t an option here, so I take the ten-minute drive to the historic Fair Hill Inn. I rarely dine alone, but when I walk into the warm, low ceilinged dining room and receive enthusiastic greetings from owner Anthony Graziano, I decide to stay. The classic menu selections reflect Graziano’s European training at Wilmington’s Hotel DuPont. The specials are more adventurous: grilled quail with escargot, venison with apricot nectar.
On my drive back, just beyond the moonlit Big Elk Creek, I see the inn, each of its forty windows lit by candles (electric ones, for safety). Three lawn archways are outlined with white lights. The antique stained-glass windows flanking the French doors are backlit. It’s a charming welcome.
Back in my room, before I can finally take advantage of the reading alcove and plush bed, I am hit with an urge to check e-mail. Slippers on, I head downstairs. The inn takes care of us Type A’s with two computer stations provided free of charge (plus wireless Internet connection in the rooms), one in an upstairs hallway and one in the living room. A brief work session is graced with white chocolate macadamia nut cookies and a spot of herbal tea snatched from the dining room.
The next morning breaks clear, perfect for strolling along the nature trails carved into the inn’s five landscaped acres. I’m on the lookout for the wildlife that finds refuge in these hauntingly beautiful trees and vines but hear only birds. I miss the eagles that nest near the property but am delighted with cardinals and bluejays, plus a small bunny.
The “miller’s ghost,” the loyal Revolutionary War patriot whom locals claim to have glimpsed here, was a no-show. British soldiers were sent to the Elk Forge mill for some wheat; the miller added in some glass. British troops hung him once they discovered the trick.
When I return to the dining room, my fellow guests are digging into the breakfast our hosts have laid out. We are about to scatter in as many directions as there are seats at the table: Nearby Brandywine Valley is known for Longwood Gardens, the DuPonts’ Winterthur estate, galleries, and antiques shopping. One couple mentions local fruit orchards; another, a wine festival. But one wise young mother insists she’s not setting foot off the property at all. Her husband gave her this solo getaway as a gift of peace and quiet. As I spin away, crunching over the stones of the circular driveway, past the stone walls of Elk Forge, I think she has just the right idea.
Travel writer Ann Cochran sets out from her home base in Cabin John, Md.
Elk Forge B&B Inn and Retreat
807 Elk Mills Rd., Elkton, Md.
410-392-9007 or http://www.elkforge.com
(Twelve rooms and suites; two are handicap-accessible)
Rates: $99-$229 per night
