First off, in regards to yesterday’s visit to Shenandoah, a phone call to my mother revealed to me that I’ve been there before, even though I didn’t know it. It appears Maw Maw (who tracks me, and possibly you, on Facebook) saw my check-in at Shenandoah and conveyed to me, through mom, that we’d taken a trip there when I was young. With a somewhat regular frequency Paw Paw would take us on random and rambling trips with no specific destination in mind. Of course experiencing this a number of times in my youth, I knew that fact, but until now it had never registered that that is probably where I get my crazy, wandering-star, travel bug from. I really can’t put into words how much I love that. (Sarah, you should take note as well. It’s amazing what genetics can explain.)
Sidebar: Though I was not present for this (my mother was about 9 years old I think, so I was a whole person that can vote away from even being alive) one of my favorite family stories has to do with another of Paw Paw’s road trips. He, Maw Maw and all 4 kids went camping pretty often, typically with some of the other families in the family (an odd phrasing but you get my meaning) and I believe they were headed to some campground in North Georgia. It was raining and it was a curvy, dirt, mountain road. The Cole Family station wagon (or if you’d prefer, The Family Truckster) met another car in the curve and apparently there wasn’t enough room, so the station wagon---and half my family tree---went tumbling down the mountainside. Yep, went tumbling down the mountainside! As I understand it, the roof was pretty banged up, the windshield was obliterated, but no one was hurt (which is especially good, because if something had happened to my mom the world would be short one Carrie Michelle Myers and I don’t know what the devil you people would do without me.) Now, this is the best part of the story --- since the car landed right-side-up and no serious injuries were sustained Paw Paw decided they’d just keep going toward the camp ground! And stay a week!! After falling down a mountain!!! The whole “no windshield” issue was solved by somehow attaching a tarp to the front of the car and cutting a hole out of it so Paw Paw could see to drive. We are a committed bunch of travelers.
Now, back to our regular programming. I awoke at the Johnny Appleseed hotel, checked out and programmed the GPS for West Virginia, specifically New River Gorge National River (I’m not sure why it’s not a National Park, or what distinguishes the two. I’m guessing it has something to do with private property ownership still being permitted in a National River or a National Forest for that matter, but that’s a question for a different day.) I had no super special reason for going to New River Gorge, other than it is in West Virginia, and West Virginia is a state I’ve had a bit of a crush on for quite a while. My third or fourth (or possibly fifth?) year of college I took a class from one of the sweetest professors the GSU Political Science Department had to offer; Dr. Thomas. I don’t recall if he was from West Virginia but in one of the classes I had him for he had us read The Buffalo Creek Disaster (a really good read about the dangers of coal mines from an outside the mine perspective, as well as an informative trip through civil procedure [if you’re into that sort of thing]) and May God Have Mercy (a very emotional true story of a murder and death penalty case, set in West Virginia) both of which I thoroughly enjoyed. I think that was what started me to loving West Virginia, so I’ve always wanted to go to see if we’d get along in person.
8:10 am - Email Steph to tell her I’ll probably arrive back in Raleigh between 5 and 6 tonight.
I had a bit of territory in Virginia to cover before I crossed over into the West (Most of it in the George Washington National Forest where I saw not one cherry tree?) and along the way I decided I needed to stop for some caffeine and a map. Normally on my treks I borrow Maw Maw’s extra-super-terrific trucker’s atlas (Maw Maw’s not a trucker, she just plays one on TV) but this time it just slipped my mind. I picked up a perfectly serviceable one for a very good price. While in the parking lot of that particular establishment I took it upon myself to whip up a CD for my Country Roads traveling for the day. I went seriously country with it and it was awesome. I was, however, surprised by how much Alabama I went for (the band not the state). I’d forgotten how much I liked them.
A few minutes later I was cruising into West Virginia whose tagline (or whatever) is “Wild, Wonderful.” (I guess that explains the name of that new reality show.) The first stop I made was in Lewisburg, an adorable little town which was very proudly displaying banners and signs identifying it as “The Coolest Small Town in America - 2011.” There was no indication as to the judging process --- I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt and believe that it wasn’t the Lewisburg City Council making the decisions. While there I saw loads of art galleries, a state Representative, and I went into a knitting supply shop that was also a hair salon (no separation between them at all, plus the knitting shop appeared to be selling all sorts of cool, witchy things like crystals and such.) From Lewisburg I was bound for the New River Gorge, but there was much of West Virginia to cross. I was on a major highway for quite a while, and as I was closing in on an exit at Sam Black Church (which is the name of the town, I think --- no idea as to its origins) I saw a bridge passing over the highway that looked very like a mid-century style coffee table. Bridges are just so cool! I exited at Sam Black Church and remembered that some preliminary research the night before had mentioned an historical marker. It happened to be located right off the exit so I pulled over. The marker commemorates The Greenbrier Ghost and reads:
“Interred in nearby cemetery is Zona Heaster Shue. Her death in 1897 was presumed natural until her spirit appeared to her mother to describe how she was killed by her husband Edward. Autopsy on the exhumed body verified the apparition’s account. Edward, found guilty of murder, was sentenced to the state prison. Only known case in which testimony from ghost helped convict a murderer.”
I don’t know if that’s a completely accurate historical marker, but it’s certainly a good story. Though if that happened on Law & Order or the like I’d say the mother was the killer.
After a brief visit with the Greenbrier Ghost, I continued along my GPS’s projected course. Typically the GPS sticks to pretty major roads, unless of course your destination is rather back woods, but even then you only get to the tiny roads once you’re closing in on your arrival. Well, for the next 30 minutes or so, mine had me traveling down a one lane (probably two lanes technically, but that’s being very generous) road, winding in and out of hollows (really it’s “hollers”---come on, this is West Virginia) and among various farms and such. It was an absolutely beautiful drive and probably would have gone much quicker if I hadn’t constantly been stopping to take pictures. As I was approaching my next turn, expecting it to be onto a much more “developed” road I noticed something that would normally send me flying into a rage---I was back at the original exit for Sam Black Church, complete with my Greenbrier Ghost marker and everything. I didn’t get back on the same road but my new path was right there at the exit. That 30 minutes of beautiful countryside I had just experienced was totally unnecessary, even if I did enjoy it. Perhaps that old Greenbrier Ghost was having some fun with me. Lucky for her I don’t mind a lovely detour when I’m not crunched for time, otherwise I’d have been calling Buffy, or Dr. Venkman, or the Winchester Brothers or something. I shook it off and drove on.
The next stretch of road took me through several small towns, one of which I stopped off at to mail a post card. I am, as ever, on the look out for murals when I travel and I was not surprised to spot a Coca~Cola one on the side of a building in one little hamlet. (In particular I enjoy spotting old, product related murals probably because they so effectively evoke a sense of americana, but this also strikes me as a bit odd since they are essentially advertisements. I guess if I can enjoy a clever commercial or an amusing jingle then there’s no reason to not appreciate an aesthetically pleasing mural on the side of a small town store.) In addition to the Coca~Cola mural on the side of this building I noticed something else; a large Pepsi vending machine on the front. While I question the establishment’s brand loyalty, I do appreciate the humor, be it intentional or not.
I finally made it to New River Gorge, where I toured the visitor’s center, took in the view from the observation deck, and watched the 20 minute film on the history/ecology of the area. I then headed out onto the tiny, winding road that takes you down into the gorge, under the bridge (which I believe is one of the world’s longest single arch steel span bridges, and one of the highest bridges in the US.) I’ve pretty much admitted and accepted that I have a growing love and appreciation for bridges, and I must say this one didn’t let me down at all. I was thoroughly impressed. I was also strongly reminded of the bridge scene in Stand By Me, even if this one carries cars not trains. I really must learn more about bridges. Also, the park area around the bridge and the gorge was lovely too. There’s a little waterfall, tons of folks rafting and fishing. I’d definitely like to come back here and spend more time.
Fun Fact: Every year West Virginia has Bridge Day (in October I believe) where there’s a big festival and you can, among other things, jump off the bridge---or rather base jump off the bridge. An image of the bridge is also on West Virginia’s quarter.
4:58 pm - Text Steph to tell her that somehow I’ve gotten off track and now I’ll be arriving around 11pm.
My next stop, the one that I was most excited about (though I’ll be honest, after the excellence of the New River Gorge, West Virginia had already done a good job for the day) was Beckley, WV where there is a coal mine that you can tour. A big part of my growing love for WV over the past several years has had to do with the coal industry---both the political aspects having to do with labor, the environmental having to do with the use of coal as a fuel as well as the mining practices, and just the geological (I do like rocks.) The opportunity to actually get down in the innards of a mine---even if it is a glorified tourist trap---was sure to be the crown jewel of my West Virginia experience. I was not disappointed.
At the former Slab Fork Coal Company there was a nice museum-y area in the company store building where you buy your ticket for the mine tour---though it was a bit light on the labor relations part of the mining life. The gift shop did offer up a thimble for Maw Maw---complete with a piece of coal, some coal earrings for me, and the lady working there highly recommended this sauce that was locally made so I picked up a jar for Steph and Evan. You get on the mine car on the backside of the company store so I walked on back there a few minutes before the tour was set to start. Inside a little mine car building I found two gentlemen, one of whom was going to be driving the car on the tour. Since I was the first to arrive he was very concerned with me being comfortable with the two of us going down into the mine alone. I was fine. In addition to me being not all that skittish, this gentleman---Roger---looked like one of the nicest guys you could meet. I assured him it was fine, though we ended up having a couple join us, along with one lady who worked there (she just wanted to take a ride down to cool off which I thought was a nice fringe benefit of working at the coal mine.) Roger began telling us the this’s and that’s of what we’d be seeing, and reminded us not to stand up or “we’d be coming back from the mine a good bit shorter”---I quickly developed an old man crush on Roger. We headed down the tracks into the mine (which was gloriously cool) and learned about the various methods of mining and advancements through the years. Roger told us about the most common dangers and the steps that were taken to prevent them. We heard about the wages that early miner made (scandalous!) and how much more coal could be moved nowadays. We even heard about how miners kept their coworkers out of their water pails by storing their false teeth in them. Roger even had props to demonstrate this to us. All in all my time in the mine was awesome.
I departed coal country, headed toward Raleigh, but there was still one more stop I wanted to make---actually it was back in the New River Gorge National River area, but down at the south end. Sandstone Falls, which is supposed to be quite pretty, was right on my way back. I made my way there, though given that the day was quickly getting away from me I decided to skip the hiking and just drove to the overlook. The view of the falls was lovely---way better than my pictures will give it credit for---and the trees around the overlook were particularly nice too. I was also quite pleased when I didn’t go tumbling down the mountainside when I decided I needed to go over on the other side of the little half-wall that is clearly there to show people where NOT to go. When I want a good view I will not be denied. Pictures were taken and I moved on.
According to the mileage signs I was seeing on the road I was very near to saying goodbye to West Virginia, which made me a little sad. I decided to stretch out our time together as much as I could by looking for a restaurant since it was dinner time and all. When I saw the sign for Granny’s House Restaurant (that’s what the sign said, not Granny’s House or Granny’s Restaurant but Granny’s House Restaurant which seems a little redundant to me) I knew I’d found my place. I entered Granny’s and seated myself, shortly requesting a sweet tea from the waitress. Oddly, they didn’t have any on hand. I don’t know if there had been an earlier run on sweet tea or what but for any restaurant in the southland---particularly one with “granny” in the name---to not have gallons of sugary, brewed goodness on hand was suspect. Still, I stayed the course. I perused the menu and the description of the fried chicken caught my eye---it was described as “honey sweet” which is undeniably mouth watering, but I really don’t care for chicken on the bone so I went for the roast beef. It was not the best, but the fried green tomatoes were good---a decidedly different type of batter on them than I am used to; more corn mealy than floury. I was munching away on my dinner, and I overheard the gentleman at the next table talking to the waitress about how amazingly delicious his chicken was. I immediately regretted my dinner selection. Always go with your first instinct kids. Eventually the chicken guy started talking to me. I learned that he was a trucker, an owner operator trucker (which is evidently the kind you want to be --- but hello, I knew that already. I’ve seen Over The Top like, a lot.) I learned much more about truck driving, and the issues related to it. For instance an oil change costs around $200. And I believe he said a texting while driving fine is around $1300---I don’t know but it was some crazy high amount, and really it should be. This is one reason that my truck driving dream will never come to fruition---I just can’t not play with my phone in the car. (If you’re wondering about my truck driving dream I’m pretty sure it’s the direct result of the brilliance of Ted Turner, who gave us TBS and put Smokey and The Bandit on the air for a good 20 percent of my childhood tv viewing time. And Over the Top didn’t hurt either.) I departed Granny’s hoping that aside from a bathroom break, I wouldn’t have to stop until I got back to Raleigh. I pretty much kept to that, with the exception of a caffeination that just had to occur.
9:07 pm - Call to Steph to tell her that it’s looking more like 1 or 1:30 for an arrival time and to just leave a key under the mat.
Even though this is much abbreviated road trip, really not a road trip at all, I was pleased most of the afternoon that I hadn’t had any major under-the-car trouble. There was the Cooperstown, NY stick debacle of 2008, then the duct tape resistant plastic under-carriage guard coming off in Oklahoma this past February, followed by a cardboard box stuck under my car in central New Mexico on the same trip. I was pleased with the absence of any such issue on this voyage. Well, we all know what a jinx is. I’m cruisin’ down the Virginia highway, very nearly into North Carolina, when I see something in the middle of the road ahead. It appeared to be a dead opossum or raccoon or something else of similar size so, rather than swerving into the other lane or off the road, I positioned my car to straddle it, as I have done a thousand times before. It wasn’t until about two seconds before I got to it that I realized “hey, that’s not a possum, that’s a dead deer.” It was too late to swerve so over it I went. Ka-klunk, ka-klunk. It was so not a good sound. My poor Civic. (And also, yes, poor deer. But given my previous day’s experience with deer I wasn’t exactly broken up about it.) I kept driving, though I slowed a little, rolled down the window, and listened to see if I could hear any deer parts dragging along the road, stuck under my car. I didn’t, but to be fair, I’m not sure what mangled deer bits would sound like. What I was reminded of was when my friend Carmen hit a deer and part of the leg got wedged under her car and the chivalrous Brad had to remove it. Gross. (BTW, I still haven’t looked under my car to check, but I’ve noticed no smell and I figure I would have by now---though I do have a particularly powerful, pina colada flavored air freshener currently at work in the Civic so that could be masking any odor.)
I finally made it back to Steph and Evan’s around 2 am, very nearly crawling to my bed, and just as I was drifting off to sleep I realized that I had only sunblocked one of my arms that day and unfortunately it was not the one that I’d had hanging out the window all over the Virginias. Ouch.
