Time for something really different. (Spoiler alert: The last link on this page is wild. You really need to watch it.)
The Mystery Hole in Ansted will have your head spinning. I’ve written about it before, but as long as we’re on the road, it’s worth stopping by. Up is down and sideways just doesn’t exist. It’s a crazy experience where the laws of gravity are completely violated.
Or head to Lesage for Hillbilly Hot Dogs, which was featured on Guy Fieri’s Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. Can a place so crazy really have good hot dogs? Yep.
Or maybe the Mothman Museum in Pt. Pleasant is your kind of place. And what would a Mothman Museum be without the M.I.B?
If all of this seems to tame for you, how about some whitewater rafting? The Gauley River in Fayette County offers truly world-class rapids. Check out the video for some live action. Go here to book a trip.
Hope you’ve enjoyed the tour of my world. We’ll do it again sometime.
I have a special needs brother-in-law who has lived in Logan, West Virginia for the past few years. More specifically, Whitman Junction, which runs along the holler formed by Whitman Creek. And yes it’s holler, not hollow. The houses of Whitman Junction – some ramshackle, some very nice brick ranchers – sit so closely together that you could sit in your kitchen and hear your neighbor’s cat purring next door, and so close to the road that a misjudged first step off the front porch could put you directly in the line of traffic. It’s what you would call a tight-knit community.
My brother-in-law has been in and out of Logan General Hospital recently, and is now recovering from a serious illness. Because of all of this, my wife and I have spent a great deal of time in the Logan area over the last few years. To know about Logan – and southern West Virginia – you need to know about the state in general.
Economically, West Virginia typically ranks near the bottom of the 50 states in just about every category. At one time, though, southern West Virginia was a booming coal mining region. But as mining has declined, so have the fortunes of southern West Virginia. Communities like Logan have been hard hit.
The geography and geology of southern West Virginia, specifically, the coal formed in the mountains eons ago, is what spurred the boom times of yesteryear. Those same mountains also tend to isolate southern West Virginia. The terrain is rugged. Check out this photo of the main highway leading to Logan. That’s a major cut through hard sandstone. And the next photo. It took a massive earthwork project just to build another Walmart.
The rugged terrain in Logan makes for expensive highways.
Even the shopping centers are carved out of the rock.
Add all this up and you get people who are different. I know I talk with an accent, but it ain’t nuthin like the accent of southern West Virginia. It’s also the land of camo. As in camouflage hats, camo vests, camo shirts, camo pants. You also see a lot of miners in their work clothes, easily identified by the bright orange reflectors. Yeah, the people are different. And they seem to have a little bit of a hard edge.
The other day we stopped to get a bite to eat and saw a couple coming out of the fast food restaurant holding hands. They were thin and wiry. He wore a scowl. So did she. Tough love, maybe? I’d be afraid of either one of them.
But maybe I shouldn’t be.
We had driven to Logan that morning, a Saturday, and were listening to This American Life. It was an old episode about a prison production of Hamlet. It was one of the most engaging shows I’ve ever heard on that broadcast. They interviewed convicted criminals who were trying their best to be actors. One of them acknowledged that his tough guy persona, the very thing that had landed him in prison, was an act. It was who he thought people expected him to be. It was, for him, a cloak of protection.
The people in Logan have had it rough. I’d probably scowl, too, if for no other reason, than to keep the world at bay.
And there are many, many good people in Logan. You can tell by the way the old guys wear their camo ball caps tipped back on their head. You can tell by the way the young girls in the stores go out of their way to make you feel like a long, lost cousin. You can tell by the 10-second conversation in the hospital elevator where a stranger tells you about the heartbreak she’s dealing with. Just like people all over the world.
If you lived in Hawaii, you’d probably smile a lot. Perfect weather, beautiful people, laid back attitude. If you lived in Logan, it would be tougher to smile. And yet they do. Even the scowling couple probably find contentment when their guard is down. They were holding hands, after all.
Wherever you go in your travels, you’ll find good people. It might take more of an effort to find them, but they’re there. Look past what’s on the outside, and find the goodness within.
The New River, one of the five oldest rivers in the world, is an hour away. If I count the hike to get to the overlook at Hawks Nest State Park, make it two hours.
There are rivers like this everywhere. This one is in Raleigh County, an hour and a half from my front door.
ET, phone home. Green Bank, West Virginia is home to the largest fully-steerable radio telescope in the world in the heart of Pocahontas County. If you wanted to pick one place to go in West Virginia, Pocahontas County would be a good choice.
No, it’s not New York. Just another small town Main Street in St. Albans. When I was a kid, we watched Frankie Avalon and Anette Funicello in Beach Blanket Bingo. For a while it was a Jehova’s Witness Kingdom Hall. Now the Alban is a theater again featuring plays and concerts.
So ends the tour of picturesque West Virginia. Tomorrow we go to Logan.
Take Me Home, Country Roads, the signature hit of John Denver, was adopted by my home state, in part because of the first line of the song, Almost Heaven, West Virginia, but also because the spirit of the song is about coming home to the country roads we all love so much. West Virginians are scattered all over the world, but the mountains seem to have an irresistible pull that tells us we should have been home yesterday.
But let’s talk about the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah River. In truth, both of those geographic features, even though they cross the border into West Virginia, are better known as Virginia landmarks. But let’s call it the songwriter’s artistic license.
It’s easy to understand how the Blue Ridge Mountains could inspire Denver and his co-songwriters. It’s a relatively short drive from my home to the Blue Ridge Parkway, one of the most beautifully scenic highways in America.
Overlooks are everywhere. It’s an incredible sight to see the mountains fade into the horizon miles and miles away. Picturesque trees are works of art waiting to be painted. Rustic barns, quaint cottages, and chairs on the hillside make you want to slow down and take it all in. And at the end of every day is the perfect sunset.
Here’s another truth.
Though the Blue Ridge Mountains are part of Virginia, there are places just as spectacular all over West Virginia. So much so, that we tend to take them for granted. The sunset picture above could have been taken in my back yard. A mountain top view is minutes away. Babbling brooks and rivers winding through the forest are within an easy bike ride. It’s the stuff that inspires artists and poets.
That pretty well sums up what kind of traveler I am.
Don’t misunderstand. I wish I had a passport. I would have liked to have traveled around the world. See the sights. Meet people. Learn about their culture. But that’s not my reality, for reasons that aren’t important for this discussion.
I’m just not a world traveler. But I have a lot of friends who are.
I have a friend in Singapore who corresponds with me on a regular basis. Another musician friend in the UK who travels the countryside with his wife and dog and guitar. A friend down under shares her amazing photos of the places she visits. Amos, a writer, goes to Lisbon for inspiration. Want real life in Sydney or New Zealand? Check this out. And my good friend Lily treks all over Canada with her husband. Oh, Canada. I could go on.
People will ask if I have any travel plans for the summer. My running joke is that we plan to take a trip to Marmet, a wide spot on the road about 20 miles away. While Marmet is a fine community, it’s not on anybody’s list of places to vacation.
In my travel fantasies, there are places I would have liked to live. Not just visit for a day, or even a week, but actually live there. Get a job. An apartment. Shop for food. Cook meals. Get to know people. Get to know their culture. Live in the country. Again, I know people who do this. But for me, it’s just a fantasy.
So my travels are typically much closer to home. And I’ve discovered there is much to learn about the different people and cultures within my own country, and within my own state. Not to mention some truly spectacular places.
This week, we’ll travel to some of these places. It won’t be glamorous, but it will be fulfilling. More tomorrow.
The other day I wrote about finding special moments throughout the day in piece called ninety nine miles. At the end, while travelling back home, the narrator finally finds some relief as Scott sings, Salina, I’m as nowhere as I can be.
Did you Google? Did you figure it out?
Who is Scott? Answer, Scott Avett, of course.
The song, Salina. It starts out as just another nice Avett Brothers song about being away from home. Then near the end, the music takes on a symphonic quality.
Click the link and stay with it. No video on this clip, just great music for a rainy Saturday night.
Not quite dawn.
Early morning drive
to get to where i’m going.
Which is where?
Doesn’t matter.
Just another destination
The gray skies start to lighten.
No dramatic sunrise.
Just light, and a little more.
Ninety nine miles down the road.
Around the bend.
Down the valley.
Up the hill.
Then the golden streaks
shining on the brilliant greens.
Bright highlights and deep shadows
and fog nestled
in the forest.
For a moment
maybe two.
.
A meeting.
Just business.
Keep the project moving.
What city?
Doesn’t matter.
Just another job.
They go their way.
I go mine.
Looking for lunch.
Walking the streets.
A pawn shop.
Liquor store.
Check cashing.
The next block is different.
A coffee shop.
A Mediterranean restaurant.
Great food and friendly server.
It doesn’t get any better.
For a moment.
Maybe two.
.
Day is dimming.
The tires are humming.
Got to get back home.
Where?
Doesn’t matter.
Home is home.
The radio is droning.
Two hours of talk
numbs the mind.
Even the music
that always brings relief
has been playing
much too long.
Then Scott sings. Salina, I’m as nowhere as I can be.
The most beautiful music.
And all is well.
For a moment.
Maybe two.
A couple of items for your Sunday afternoon reading.
First, an article in the Sunday’s Charleston Gazette-Mail about The Mystery Hole, a crazy roadside attraction near Ansted, West Virginia. You don’t see these kinds of places very often anymore. If you’ve never been, it’s worth the trip, even if you have to spend the night. (And there are plenty of other things to do on a weekend visit. New River Gorge Bridge. Hawk’s Nest State Park. Babcock State Park. West Virginia – Wild and Wonderful!)
It’s more than meets the eye. Note the gorilla on the roof.
Then read this. It’s a story I wrote after my first trip to The Mystery Hole. My story is fiction and any resemblance to real events or characters is purely coincidental. The roadside attraction in my story is called The Enigma.
We interrupt this post to bring you a special news bulletin. Joseph Bird has never posted The Enigma story to which he refers. Or maybe he did, and for some reason, he deleted it. He can be that way sometimes and he can’t remember much of anything. For that error, he will make amends in the coming days. Until then, he offers the following poem, written as part of his novel Three Seconds. (To be read in the spirit of Nights in White Satin. If you have to ask, never mind.)
From the original post:
In Three Seconds, a roadside fun-house called The Enigma serves as a metaphor for the illusion of truth the characters in the novel must face. In The Enigma, the laws of gravity are not what they seem to be and visitors are left wondering about the reality of it all. At the end of every tour, Rembrandt Walker offers this cautionary reminder.
Breathe in,
my friends,
while you still can.
When shall we tarry,
it’s all in God’s plan.
Marvel and wonder
at gravity’s plight.
The day is dark
and evening bright.
Live now and love,
while the spirit is young.
In life’s quick passing,
our song will be sung.
Not all we see
can we comprehend.
Up becomes down,
beginning is end.
Worry not, my friends,
and judge with much grace,
Our fate will come quickly,
our day we will face.
Look beyond
what you see
and know what is true.
It’s out there somewhere.
It’s waiting for you.
Joseph E Bird 