I came, I climbed, I conquered

A few years back, I had picked up a brochure somewhere while traveling West Virginia for the Nelson Rock’s Via Ferrata. I realized that “via ferrata” is Italian for “by way of iron.” The Italians had installed iron rungs in the steep sections of the Alps to better move their armies across the mountains. In Europe, many other via ferratas were built, and have become a popular form of recreation, but only a handful exist in North America. Fortunately, one of them is in my home state.

Nelson Rocks (http://www.nelsonrocks.org) is an unusual geological feature a few miles south of West Virginia’s better known Seneca Rocks. They were both formed by the same vein of rock, but unlike the huge single vertical cliff at Seneca Rocks, Nelson Rocks has split into two thin sections which look like a tall dorsal fin of a fish or dinosaur. The owners installed a series of metal rungs and safety cable allowing inexperienced rock climbers to traverse the sheer cliffs. Just to add to the fun, they built a 250 foot long swinging bridge, complete with 2x4 wooden slats spaced 18 inches apart, allowing a person to see the ground that is 150 feet below with every step (plus fewer boards mean less weight and wind resistance).

I’ve always enjoyed trying different forms of recreation, and have frequently regaled my blog readers with stories of my hiking, biking, motorcycling, rafting, kayaking, etc. However, when the rock climbing craze began to gain steam a decade (or more) ago, I thought I was probably too old, too heavy, too weak in the arms, and too afraid of heights to get into it. I’d tried a few of those fancy climbing walls, but didn’t feel very confident about my capabilities. Plus, the glass flooring at the Sears Tower in Chicago and the CN Tower in Toronto had really messed with my head (although I eventually walked on them).

However, I was intrigued by the Nelson Rocks Via Ferrata brochure and website (especially after surviving the BridgeWalk over the New River Gorge earlier this summer). They emphasized their safety precautions, beginning with the fact that you are always clipped onto the safety cable. They mentioned that leg strength was more important than arm strength. Their guides are highly experienced. They even provide several safe escape routes in case you get up there and find it too intimidating to continue. I decided to give it a try, but my first attempt was rained out (however I still had fun that day—see my story at http://inquisineer.blogspot.com/2012/07/the-heights-and-depths-named-seneca.html). I was able to reschedule for September 21, the last full day of summer—it would be a grand adventure as a capstone for my summer season. It turned out to be a beautiful blue sky day, with a few of the trees in the upper elevations beginning to show the first signs of autumn colors. Gatan Waddell would be my guide, and he got me set up with the safety harness and a helmet. Soon we were hiking up to the base of the rocks.

We began our journey in the shade of the western side of the formation. Gatan was very helpful in coaching me through the process. I knew I had to focus on my handholds and footholds, and especially the double clipping process so that I would always be connected to the safety cable. By concentrating so much on the task at hand, I was able to avoid looking down as we scaled the vertical wall. Soon we were out of the shade and into the sunlight as we arrived at the notch that allowed us to begin moving laterally across the inside of the western wall. The view at the first notch was amazing! I realized that we had begun the day on an ordinary hiking path that had come to a dead stop at the base of a sheer rock cliff. Mother Nature had placed a seemingly insurmountable obstacle in the path, but mankind had found a way to climb over it, and for that accomplishment we were rewarded with an absolutely incredible view. However, this was just the first of many phenomenal views that day. [Look at my feet on the rung in this picture, with nothing but a sheer vertical wall below me.]

Soon we were at the bridge, where we took a brief lunch break. I don’t really consider myself a daredevil, and I knew that this entire via ferrata experience would be a significant personal challenge for me. However, I also knew that confronting one’s fears and then coming out the victor on the other side provides a strong feeling of euphoria—a personal accomplishment that will stay with you the rest of your life. In thinking about the trip prior to arriving (and believe me, I did a lot of “mental visioning” about this adventure), I knew the bridge would be challenging, but I had to try it. As I got started, I tried to focus on each individual board, and on my shoe landing on each board. By focusing one’s vision so hard on that particular point, it was easier to ignore the rocks and treetops below. I was a bit nervous, but very glad when I made it to the eastern wall!

We were quickly climbing vertically again, ever higher up the wall, before crossing another notch to the outer side of the eastern wall. Eventually we came to the optional climb to a stunning view from one of the highest points. Before I had arrived, I had studied the website and read some other accounts so I knew about this option. It is the most challenging part of the adventure, but the view is breathtaking. Since Gatan had expressed how well I was doing, I decided to go for it. I had to climb straight up for quite a distance, sit for awhile on a narrow perch atop the “fin,” and then—for the first time—contend with climbing down a sheer cliff (which requires mostly looking down rather than looking up). I am very glad I took the challenge—it was incredible! [Notice how far down the bridge is in the picture below.]

After that, the rest of the trip was comparatively tame, although you still have an awesome view of the surrounding countryside. One of the things I realized about this climb was how much I enjoyed the mental challenge, beyond just confronting a healthy fear of heights. Rock climbing turns out to be a very mental sport, as you play a “chess game” of sorts, trying to figure out where best to place your hands and feet as you scale the mountain. The metal rungs are not all conveniently placed and numbered for you to follow—sometimes you must use cracks or small ledges on the rock, or reposition yourself to take whatever path works best for your personal dimensions. Plus, there is the incessant need to carefully move your carabiners to the next section of safety cable. By concentrating so hard on what you are doing, it is easy to forget how high up you are.

Eventually, the fins merge with the mountaintop, where you get back on solid ground. A short hike further takes one to the very pinnacle of the mountain, where you can stand on a rock and get a 360 degree view of the North Fork valley as well as nearby Spruce Knob (the highest point in West Virginia). It is easy to discern the spine of rock that forms Seneca Rocks and Nelson Rocks as it stretches for miles up and down the valley. Standing at the peak—literally on top of the world—was a great place to end a great day.

I am so glad that I gave this one-of-a-kind West Virginia experience a try—indeed, I guess in some respects, I am truly a mountaineer now. It is easy stay on the couch, but the rewards of getting out there and trying something new are immense. I will never forget the unique perspective on the world that one gets from this experience. The memories of this personal achievement will live in my mind forever. I conquered the Via Ferrata! [And if a novice, overweight, old guy like me can overcome his “concern” about heights and do this, then many others can, too!]

Bikin' and Boatin'

[The story below was written about twenty years ago and submitted to a motorcycle magazine that had a regular column entitled “My Favorite Ride” chosen from reader entries. Unfortunately, my story was not selected for publication—but since I now have my own blog, I can publish it here. I think one can find it to be an interesting story even if you are not a motorcyclist. By the way, if you have time for a longer ride (via car or motorcycle), consider taking Route 26 all the way to where it terminates at Route 800 near Woodsfield, Ohio. Turning right onto Route 800 will take you directly to the Sistersville Ferry (but if you have time, turn left first and explore the quaint town of Woodsfield before turning around and heading towards the Ohio River).]

Our forefathers were frequently forced to rely on ferryboats to cross large rivers. However, today’s modern bridges have made ferryboats nearly extinct. One of the last remaining public ferryboats on the Ohio River is based in Sistersville, West Virginia, and it makes for a unique motorcycle destination. There is something magical about seeing a street that disappears into the dark waters of the river, with only a small floating piece of "street" that connects to the opposite bank. Our motorcycles should get the opportunity at least once to go on a boat ride, and I can tell you an excellent way to get there. My suggested 80 mile loop also includes Ohio Route 26—designated by Car and Driver magazine in January 1990 as one of the Top 10 highways in America—as well as a brief side trip onto an Ohio River island.

My favorite ride begins and ends in Marietta, Ohio. This historic river city was the first incorporated town in the Northwest Territory, and has lots of interesting places to explore in its own right. If you arrive via Interstate 77, take Ohio Exit 1 and head south on Route 7. At the first major stoplight just south of the Interstate, turn right onto Acme Street, and follow it about half a mile until it terminates at Route 26.

Turn right onto Route 26 North and the fun will soon begin. Route 26 has lots of hills and curves, and a few of the turns are banked higher than some NASCAR tracks! Route 26 transverses part of the Wayne National Forest, and has been designated as the Covered Bridge Scenic Byway. The road includes several pull-offs with historical markers that are easy to read from a motorcycle (e.g., Mail Pouch barn paintings near mile marker 11, the Myers General Store near mile marker 20, etc.). At about mile marker 18, you can even ride across the Hune Covered Bridge, built in 1877.

About three miles after passing the Rinard Covered Bridge, be on the lookout for Ohio Route 260. Turn right and follow 260 about ten miles until it ends at Ohio Route 7 in New Matamoras. Turn left and take Route 7 north about four miles to catch the Sistersville Ferry (behind the BP station). The ferry operates from April through December, and costs $2 per motorcycle. It is a great time to take off your helmet for a few minutes and enjoy the unique view from the water.

Exiting the ferry, go up two blocks and turn left onto Main Street for just one block. Turn right onto Charles Street, which will take you past the historic Wells Inn Hotel and Restaurant (circa 1894), a good place for local information if you want to explore Sistersville. If you want to stretch the ride into two days, the rooms at the hotel are very nice and surprisingly affordable.

At the corner of the hotel, take a right onto WV Route 2 south. The next 18 miles will give you several panoramic vistas of the Ohio River before you enter St. Marys. For an interesting diversion, I suggest visiting Middle Island, a part of the Ohio River Islands National Wildlife Refuge. Middle Island is unique because it is the only one with a bridge. Take a right at the second stoplight in St. Marys and go one block on Washington Street, before making a left onto Second Street. You will notice that St. Marys is one of the few remaining towns where the railroad tracks go down the center of the town. After just one block on Second Street, turn right onto George Street, and you will see the bridge ahead of you. The island has a well-maintained (but unpaved) road that goes nearly two miles up the west bank of the island, with several informative markers along the way.

Returning back across the Middle Island bridge, stay straight on George Street for two blocks (watch out for trains--and notice the county court house on the hill ahead) and turn right on Route 2 south. Stay in the right lane to cross the Ohio River bridge and take Ohio Route 7 south. On the left, one mile south of the bridge, is the Newport Jug Dairy Bar, where you can get some food, or just rest at the benches and picnic tables under a majestic old maple tree on the riverbank.

Six miles further down Route 7 is the Willow Island Locks and Dam. There is a picnic and observation area where you can watch the big towboats move through the locks on their river journey. The large Willow Island power plant across the river was the lead story on the national newscasts back in April 1978. One of the large cooling towers collapsed during construction, killing 51 men.

The remaining ten miles brings you back into Marietta, through its northern suburb of Reno. You will pass several different motorcycle dealerships (Victory, Suzuki/Kawasaki/Yamaha, and Honda) in Reno, just in case you need to do some shopping (the Harley dealership recently moved just across the river off the first I-77 exit in West Virginia). As you return to the starting point, you can turn right onto Acme Street once again, and then take another right into the shopping center parking lot, in order to visit the Marietta Tourist Information Trolley. Inside this former trolley car that has been converted into a tourism office, you can find more suggestions of things to do while in this area.

Where the road meets the water

R.I.P. Dr. Harris

UC Professor Emeritus Evelyn Harris died today—she was one of the most important figures in my life. Aside from my parents, she deserves most of the credit for where I am today. Although I knew this day would be coming (she was 90), it still hurts to know she is gone.

I came to UC as a raw freshman, uncertain as to what college would be like. During my first week on campus, I took a seat in her classroom (Room 306 Riggleman Hall) for the “State and Local Government” class. I still remember one of her assignments for that class during the election year of 1976. She required students to subscribe to a major out-of-state newspaper, and write a report on the election in that state. This was a very creative assignment! I chose the Charlotte Observer from her list of newspapers (in part because I knew I could get good coverage of auto racing in their sports section). It was fun to always be getting a daily newspaper in my little mailbox at the lobby of the dorm. I learned a lot about North Carolina that semester from the newspaper assignment, but I learned even more about West Virginia government from her lectures.

I quickly realized this woman was a phenomenal teacher. She was so passionate about political science (which I had chosen as my major), and her zeal for the topics we covered helped to make her lectures interesting. I realized that I was learning from a true intellectual. She had come to UC in the 1940s from New York with her husband, a scientist who had worked on the Manhattan Project and who had taken a job with a chemical plant near Charleston after WWII. Many of her former students went on to positions of responsibility in the government, including one of her all-time favorite students: Robert C. Byrd.

For me, she became my Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, all rolled into one. I had her for class for probably every semester over the next four years. That includes one semester when she taught “History of Russia” (one of the most eye-opening classes I ever had) as a TV course at 6:00 AM on Saturday mornings on WCHS-TV8 (I used to stumble out to the dorm lobby, put a cassette recorder next to the television, and tried to stay awake on the couch after a typical Friday night of college “activities”).

She was instrumental in convincing me to spend a semester as an intern in Washington, DC. It was a huge step for this country boy to move to the big city, and go to work every day on Capitol Hill as an intern for Congressman Nick Rahall. I’m so glad I took her advice! That experience is still paying dividends today. I often visit DC in my current job, and enjoy remembering the city as I knew it in 1979.

I tried to stay in touch with her over the years, and was delighted to be a guest speaker in her classes a few times. Whenever I pass through Charleston and have the time, I often stop by the UC campus to reminisce, and her classroom was always a place I had to visit. Even when it is empty, I can still sit in those seats and imagine her presence. She was quite inspiring to me! During my career, I have often had leadership training classes where they ask you to envision a mentor you have had in life—Evelyn Harris is who I always think of.

Because she spent her entire career at UC, she was often a “touchstone” whose name could spark conversations with alumni from different eras. My uncle, who spent a year at UC in the late ‘40s after coming home from WWII, had taken one of her classes and remembered her fondly. However, not everyone liked her in the same manner I did. She had a reputation as a tough but fair professor, and if you weren’t a serious student, then you didn’t want to take her class. There were no easy “A”s in her class.

In fact, here is a story related to her tough grading philosophy from the late ‘70s. A small bulletin board near her classroom doorway was used by the Political Science Club which she sponsored. Across the top of the bulletin board were cardboard letters about four inches high which spelled out the title. However, the letter “A” had come up missing, so that it read “POLITIC L SCIENCE CLUB.” As some of us were talking with her after class (probably about an upcoming Political Science Club function), she suggested someone ought to replace that missing letter. A fellow student jokingly replied to her that it hadn’t been fixed because “…no one could make an A in political science!” [I think the rest of us laughed at the joke more than she did, but she still cracked a smile.]

When I started teaching American Government and Constitutional Law classes about ten years ago, I knew that I would be emulating the best political science professor I had ever had. She was my role model for how my classes were to be structured. I wanted to push students to learn but also be fair. I also wanted to make them think, to encourage classroom debate, and to always be excited about the topic, just as she had been. There was no way that I could ever pay her back for what a good teacher she had been to me—all I could do was to “pay it forward” by inspiring a new generation of students. I don’t think I could ever come close to reaching the high bar she set, but at least I tried to give my students a taste of what it was like to be in her classroom.

I sometimes called her to keep in touch and let her know what I was doing. During one of these infrequent calls, she gave me a good idea to use in my classes. I had told her that I made a practice of giving my American Government students a test based on sample questions from the U.S. Citizenship test (to make them realize how little they knew about their government and how lucky they were to be born American). She loved that concept, and then suggested that I should also give them a test based on questions that blacks in the south were often asked when registering to vote. I was able to find a listing of such questions on the Internet, and this became a regular feature in my Constitutional Law class.

About 15 years ago, I became aware of a book called “Tuesdays with Morrie” about a former student visiting with his former professor before his death. I went to the library and got this book on tape prior to a trip when I was driving across the state of Ohio. It turned out to be a very emotional book; to the point that I am not ashamed to admit crying to myself as I drove alone through the flat cornfields on the western side of Ohio. I didn’t know Morrie, but I knew an intellectual professor who had touched my life in the same way. I treasured my interactions with her. Now she is gone too, and she will be missed by many of us.

That's me sitting in her classroom during my most recent visit to campus.

Taking the fort by land and by sea

Well, okay, the title is a bit over-dramatic. I visited Prickett’s Fort State Park (near Fairmont, West Virginia) twice this weekend, once via bicycle and once with my kayak. Prickett’s Fort is a recreation of the original fort which was built in 1774 to protect early settlers in the area from Indian attacks. It features re-enactors who help to tell the story of life on the frontier in this area.

On Saturday morning in Morgantown, I left on my bicycle and worked my way over to the trail at the end of Collins Ferry Road. This narrow trail down the hill is where Collins Ferry Road gets its name—even though the current road dead ends, in the old days it led horses and wagons down the hill to a ferry crossing. As I coasted down the remaining dirt path, I obliterated an unseen spider’s web that had spanned the pathway between trees on each side. [I bet that spider thought “If only the web would have held, I could have eaten on that for years!”]

Soon I was headed up the Monongahela River on the rail trail from Morgantown. About 26 miles later, I arrived at Prickett’s Fort. It was fun riding alongside the river, passing three massive locks and dams that allow boats to travel to Fairmont. I also passed a long row of abandoned brick coke ovens—evidence of the coal industry that had once dominated the area. [A simply analogy is that coke is to coal what charcoal is to wood.] Arriving at Prickett’s Fort, there is a high railroad bridge that spans the Mon River, but it has clearly been abandoned. What once was an engineering marvel that helped move tons and tons of coal north to Pittsburgh steel furnaces is now a rusting hulk.

I had made this ride from Morgantown to Prickett’s Fort about four years ago, and at that time had continued on a small connector trail that leads a couple of miles from the fort into downtown Fairmont. Yesterday I just wanted to do some scouting for a potential kayak outing on Prickett’s Creek, before turning around and pedaling back to Morgantown.

Today, Anna and I loaded up our kayaks and headed to the boat ramp at Prickett’s Fort. It was a beautiful day as we paddled up Prickett’s Creek. It was soon obvious that the wildlife was abundant here. We had large blue herons squawking at us, smaller greenback herons watching us intently, and even a white heron stalking fish along the banks. Kingfishers and killdeer also flitted about, as well as the numerous ducks and geese. We paddled through literal swarms of minnows—hundreds of them swimming in circles but in unison. We also saw several larger fish as well. A variety of colorful wildflowers decorated the banks—cardinal flowers, ironweed, Joe Pye weed, etc. Most of our creek trek was in a wilderness area shielded from the park, but soon we saw the roadway that led to the park entrance. We were able to paddle under the first car bridge and continue going upstream until the second car bridge before turning around.

After following a different channel back downstream, we headed out onto the Mon River. We crossed under the old train bridge and continued upstream for a good distance before turning around and heading back to the boat ramp. The river is nice, but the smaller creeks are always more interesting for kayaking. Soon we were back on shore and loading up. We didn’t visit the actual fort on this trip, because we have visited it several times in the past. If you haven’t been there, I highly recommend checking it out. It is especially great to take children there for a “living history” lesson about our forefathers. Plus, Prickett’s Fort makes for a great bicycling or kayaking destination!

My ten foot orange kayak stowed inside my Prius, with Prickett’s Fort in the background.

A Walk in the Woods (but not just any woods)

A killer is stalking them—okay, granted, it is just a tiny bug, but still it kills them. With their existence threatened, I didn’t want to wait very long to go see them again. When I found out that Anna had never been to Cathedral State Park, I wanted her to see this majestic old-growth hemlock tree forest before it was too late. Anna was a Knight of the Golden Horseshoe (a West Virginia state history award for 8th graders), so she knew all about Cathedral State Park, but had never had the chance to visit there.

We left Morgantown and headed for Preston County. We stopped for lunch at Monroe’s Restaurant in Kingwood. It is an interesting old place that is on the list of 101 best restaurants in West Virginia (http://wvcommerce.org/travel/thingstodo/wvdining/101-places/default.aspx). We parked on the courthouse square and walked around a bit exploring the town.

Back in the car, we left Kingwood and headed downhill to the Cheat River, where we turned right onto Route 72. We paralleled this beautiful river for most of this trip, including views of the Cheat Narrows where we recently had kayaked. Beyond where our whitewater trip had started, we came to the town of Rowlesburg. This is a bigger town that I had imagined. I remember reading about the damages there in the big flood back in 1985—it must have been devastating.

Further upstream from Rowlesburg, Route 72 meets U.S. Route 50. Taking a left onto Route 50, we continued running alongside the rippling rocks and waters of the Cheat. Finally, the road veers left, leaving the river for an assault on the mountain. Up and up you go, through many a curve until you finally reach the top. In the era before Interstate highway travel was common, highways like U.S. 50 were major thoroughfares, carrying a lot more traffic than they do today. I’m glad on this particular day we didn’t have to follow any 18 wheelers up the hill.

We soon arrived at Cathedral State Park, parked the car, and headed for the trails. Cathedral is one of the last stands of virgin hemlock forest left in the state. Much of eastern America was covered in hemlock forests when the white man arrived and cut most of them down. Hemlock trees had become the dominant species over time, because they grow so high and block the sunlight, plus their bark and needles that they shed helps to make the soil more acidic, which they enjoy but others don’t. There are a number of trees in the park that are more than a hundred feet high. Some of the tree trunks are 20 feet in circumference. A babbling brook meanders along its way. It seems like a magical forest!

We hiked around most of the trails in this small state park (133 acres). One that I had never been on before near the park boundary had a long straight downhill section that was “sunken.” We wondered if it had been an old trail or road at one time, but I saw on-line where it had been a “log slide” from when the neighboring property had been timbered.

Fortunately, the trees in Cathedral were never cut down. The last private owner, Mr. Brandon Haas, sold it to the state in 1942 with the provision that it never be cut down. We all owe Mr. Haas our gratitude for sharing his trees with us! It should be noted that there are other small pockets of virgin hemlock on private lands around the state. Another place where one can see them is on the TreeTops Canopy Tour near the New River Gorge Bridge. I’ve “zipped” on their zip line tour a few times through their hemlock trees and they are also a sight to behold. Unfortunately, a little bug from Asia called an adelgid sucks the sap of hemlock trees until they die. Let’s hope that scientists are able to preserve the hemlocks from this invasive pest.

Rather than re-trace our route back to Morgantown, we continued heading east on Route 50, and soon crossed into the bottom corner of western Maryland. We turned left onto U.S. Route 219 and ventured north (alongside a mountain ridge topped with wind turbines) to Oakland, the county seat of Garrett County, Maryland. It is a quaint old railroad town. We continued north to the Deep Creek Lake/Wisp ski resort area, which is a big vacation destination for some eastern city dwellers who want to get out of the Baltimore/Washington heat and head for the mountains. Our original plan was to eat at one of our favorite restaurants there called “Canoe on the Run” but then we remembered it is only open for breakfast and lunch. If you are ever in that area during those times, it is a great place to eat.

We drove into Friendsville and checked out the rafting companies and the public whitewater access for the Youghiogheny River (for future reference). Then we jumped onto I-68 for the short drive back to Morgantown.

Finally, perhaps I should mention that Cathedral State Park is located adjacent to the community of Aurora, West Virginia. With the recent tragedy at the cinema in Aurora, Colorado, we reflected on this terrible loss of innocent lives. Aurora is such a neat name for a community, but it is a shame that a mad man can give one another angle to think about when you hear the word. I hope the victims rest in peace.

Hugging a hemlock tree in Cathedral State Park.

West Fork Kayaking

Yesterday we took our kayaks to Worthington, West Virginia (along U.S. Route 19 between Fairmont and Shinnston), for a trip on the West Fork River. In the 1800s, there had been a mill at Worthington, and the mill dam still restricts the waterflow there, creating a pool of water about five feet higher than it would have been. There is a small park in Worthington that provides access to the West Fork River, as well as a scenic view of the old cut stone dam.

A year or two ago, I had bicycled the entire West Fork Rail Trail, which parallels the river between Shinnston and Fairmont for nearly 17 miles. Based on what I saw that day, I had thought that the riverside park at Worthington would be a good place to park a vehicle and try some kayaking. Unfortunately, access to the upper pool is limited to a few muddy paths down the bank, some lined with poison ivy. [It would be nice if some elected officials were to put just a little effort to develop this park to attract flat water kayakers.] There is a boat ramp of sorts for launching fishing boats below the dam, but I felt the extra depth gained by the dam would make the upper pool a better bet for us. Plus, I wanted to paddle upstream at the start, and then we could get assistance from the current on the way back. That is much better than starting downstream and then fighting the current to get back to where you parked your vehicle.

Not long after putting in at the dam, we saw riffles in the water as we paddled upstream. The pool above the dam doesn’t last long before you are digging your paddles hard to make progress upstream. We were able to get by this first test, but fought against a detectable current most of the way. I didn’t expect the West Fork challenge us like it did, but the recent rainfalls probably increased its strength. The extra depth may have helped us go further, though, because there were several places with riffles that were just deep enough to work our way through. Part of the fun of kayaking is trying to read the river to choose the best path to take.

We passed about half a dozen bridges (or remnants of bridges)—some for cars and some for the trains that formerly serviced the coal mines in this area. Usually there was one pier that seemed to collect the most flotsam, as if it had magnetic powers over the driftwood that floodwaters bring to it. One bridge, with fading white paint indicating it was part of the old Western Maryland Railway, had a huge tree trunk about six feet wide that turned out to be hollow.

We stopped a few times to rest and enjoy the scenery. Occasionally we would see a fish jump, but the recent rains had made the water too cloudy to really see anything in it. There was one tributary creek that we were able to go up for a short distance. We enjoyed “chasing” a large blue heron up the river. This bird stood more than three feet tall, and probably had a six foot wingspan. Whenever we would get close to his waterside perch, he would spread his wide wings and majestically fly low up the river a short distance, only to need to move again as we continued our upstream trek.

We made it about three miles upstream to Enterprise, West Virginia, before deciding to turn around. The trip back was much more relaxed than the trip up, and probably took less than half the time. It made for an enjoyable day, directing our kayaks up and down the river, while soaking in the sunshine as well as West Virginia’s natural beauty.

[By the way, I should also mention that we made a stop on this trip at the Poky Dot restaurant in Fairmont, which has been featured on the Food Network and is on the list of the state’s 101 best restaurants. I didn't take any pictures on the river, but I did take the shot below of a couple of "patrons" who reign over a couple of chairs at the bar of the Poky Dot. It gives you an indication of the light-hearted atmosphere in this long-time local landmark.]

The Heights and Depths Named Seneca

A view of Seneca Rocks

I prepared myself all week for an adventure that would really test my abilities. I had read about the “Via Ferrata” (Italian for “iron road”) at Nelson Rocks in Pendleton County, West Virginia, and had wondered if I should give it a try. Nelson Rocks is a privately owned rock cliff area south of the famous Seneca Rocks. Besides traditional rock-climbing opportunities, the owners have installed a long series of metal rungs with adjacent safety cables so that even novice rock climbers can easily get the experience of transversing a rock face.

I have what I consider to be a normal fear of heights, but after successfully completing the New River Gorge Bridgewalk a few weeks ago, I was ready to try a new challenge. The Bridgewalk takes tourists on the narrow “catwalk” underneath the bridge surface that was originally intended for maintenance workers. It was easier to look down on the rapids of the New River nearly 900 feet underneath you when you know you are wearing a harness and are clipped into a safety cable. Perhaps that same reassurance would allow me to scale the sheer cliffs at Nelson Rocks.

I drove to Nelson Rocks yesterday for my “Via Ferrata” adventure, but unfortunately, the intermittent rain caused it to be cancelled. [Although it messed up my plans, I know the farmers needed the rain.] I did get to check out their operation, and I was impressed with their professionalism. We talked for a good while and I got to drive up to the base of the rocks.

So after leaving Nelson Rocks, I went to my backup plan—caving. A few miles up the road is Seneca Caverns. Going underground was a good thing to do on a rainy day. Seneca Caverns is a typical tourist cave, complete with colored lights in some areas. They have done a good job making it interesting. When we got to the end at the back exit for the caverns, it was still raining, so their policy is rather than make folks walk outside in the rain, we got to reverse course and make our way back to the main building via the cave. As we neared the entrance, we ran into the “Traveling West Virginia” television crew from channel 8 and 11 in Charleston, who were videotaping a segment on Seneca Caverns.

My tour inside Seneca Caverns

My tour of Seneca Caverns was nice, but I wanted something more. Fortunately, they have opened up a new cave adventure further down the hill called “Stratosphere,” which is operated as a wild cave. I had to try it, too! The only lights are attached to your helmet. There are a number of tricky inclines to traverse, aided only by a rope. I got back to the log cabin main office just in time to purchase my ticket for the next tour that was getting ready to leave.

My trip through Seneca Caverns had been with a group of about 15. However, for the “Stratosphere” wild cave tour, there was only one other couple (they live and work in DC, but have bought a small cabin in West Virginia for weekend getaways) besides myself and our guide. It is very different experience to be in a large cave with only a light on your helmet. The guide did an excellent job answering our questions and pointing out amazing features—such as the couple of delicate mushrooms growing in total darkness inside the cave.

The hike itself was moderately challenging, but I recommend good hiking boots, because unlike Seneca Caverns, there is no designated footpath that has been conveniently covered in gravel or has nice steps built to make climbing easy. Much of the floor of the Stratosphere cave is moist, slippery clay—with a few rope “bannisters” to provide something to hold onto. It is primarily downhill to the lowest point of the cave (and the feature that gives this cave its name), and then a return trip uphill to the entrance.

It was an interesting adventure—and best of all, the rain had stopped upon emerging from the second cave. After cleaning the mud off my shoes, I got in the car and headed north to Seneca Rocks. This iconic West Virginia landmark (which some had mentioned for the back of the West Virginia state quarter) is a huge rock cliff that juts skyward from the valley floor. I hiked the 1.5 mile path to the top (a vertical gain of 1000 feet) in just half an hour. The view from the top of Seneca Rocks is absolutely incredible! It is as if you have hiked into the sky. I have visited here numerous times over my lifetime, but its scenic vista never fails to amaze.

So I got to experience the lowest point below the earth’s surface within Seneca Caverns as well as the highest point on Seneca Rocks. Both of these destinations owe their names to the Seneca Indians, who primarily are associated with living in upstate New York. However, like other Native American tribes, they frequently came south to hunt and visit in West Virginia, thus lending their name to some of our locations.

I finished my day trip by driving north to Morgantown via two-lane roads through Harmon, Parsons, Rowlesburg, Kingwood, and Masontown. I even got to view the section of the Cheat River that we kayaked last weekend. It was a beautiful trip through the West Virginia countryside, and was much better than backtracking westward across Rt. 33 through Elkins to Weston, and then taking I-79 northeast to Morgantown. Even though I had to change my plans, I had a very memorable day in wild, wonderful West Virginia!

That last step is doozey!

The Forgotten River

Don’t confuse the title above with “The Lost River”—West Virginia already has one of those (http://www.lostriversp.com/), and maybe someday I will write about that state park and the river that disappears into the side of a mountain.

This essay is about a forgotten river; the Cheat River. It is the river where I had lost my whitewater virginity in my very first rafting trip back in 1983 while at WVU. However, I had not returned to the Cheat until this past weekend. It wasn’t that I had a problem with the Cheat River, because my initial raft trip was such a great experience that it inspired me to make dozens of more trips over the years. I’ve covered all sections of the famous New and Gauley Rivers. I’ve done the Shenandoah and the Potomac in the eastern panhandle. I’ve rafted the Youghiogheny River in Pennsylvania as well as the man-made ASCI whitewater course at Deep Creek, Maryland. But I had never got around to returning to the Cheat River where it all began.

I guess it was one of those things where since I could already claim to have done the Cheat, it wasn’t as important to run it again. I always knew it was there and felt I would get around to running it again, especially since the big flood of 1985 had totally changed the river. This past weekend was finally the time to head out to Preston County to try the Cheat.

There are actually two sections of the Cheat River—the Cheat Canyon (downstream from Albright) and the Cheat Narrows (upstream from Albright). The big whitewater is in the Cheat Canyon, but it is primarily run during high water levels of the spring. The Cheat Narrows is a tighter, more technical stretch of smaller rapids, which can be fun in an inflatable kayak (known as a “duckie”). Even though the water was running low, we wanted to give the Narrows a try.

We arrived at Cheat River Outfitters less than 45 minutes after leaving Morgantown. I had selected this outfitter because they have a permanent presence in Albright, West Virginia. There are other outfitters who run the Cheat, but they are part-time “satellite” operations of outfitters based at Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania on the Youghiogheny River. I wanted to reward a full-time West Virginia business with my money.

The folks at Cheat River Outfitters (CRO) are very nice, and are quite competent at what they do. However, if you are expecting some of the high end furnishings you might get from some of the top New and Gauley River outfitters in Fayette County (Class VI, ACE, etc.), then you might be a bit disappointed. The helmets and lifejackets are functional, but slightly faded, beginning to show their age. Even without the glitz and glamour of the big operations, the "heart and soul" of CRO is there to safely provide you with a good time on the river. And a good time was had by all on the day we were there!

As with other outfitters, an old school bus takes you upstream from their headquarters, and you get to see the glimpses of the river for most of the trip. Route 72 parallels the Cheat during this section—instead of the trains you see and hear when rafting the New River, you sometimes catch coal trucks or motorcycles passing by. However, for the most part, all you see and hear is the beautiful West Virginia wilderness—steep green hillsides, blue skies, gray rocks, and dark water, periodically punctuated with frothy whitewater. It was wild, wonderful West Virginia at its best!

The Cheat Narrows may be a bit boring for a hardened whitewater veteran, but I’m able to have fun wherever I go. It is tame enough for beginners, but skill and experience can be very helpful in the challenging sections. I would compare it to the section of the Youghiogheny River above the falls that is known as the Middle Yock. The Cheat is not as broad as the Middle Yock, so you need to hit the right line to get through properly, thus making it seem more fun to me.

It seems to me that the Cheat River should get more attention for its outdoor potential than it does. Morgantown has been growing by leaps and bounds, seemingly unaffected by the recession impacting most of the rest of the state (and nation). Albright’s proximity to Morgantown should cause it to draw more customers than it does.

However, much of the state’s efforts to promote whitewater tourism centers on the New and Gauley Rivers, in part because they are located well within West Virginia’s borders. Tourists who come to Fayette County are likely to stay and do other things within West Virginia. With Albright located so close to both the Pennsylvania and Maryland border, outdoor enthusiasts may well come to the Cheat and then run off to Deep Creek, Maryland, or Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania, for the rest of their vacation.

Still, I would like to see more folks consider giving the Cheat River a try. I regret waiting so long to return to this forgotten river, and I hope to return again soon. Too often people overlook what lies in their own backyard, knowing that the nearby activities are always there when needed, but never seeming to get around to actually doing them. If you are interested in exploring the Cheat (or other activities such as rock climbing, paint ball, or caving), check out the good folks at Cheat River Outfitters at http://www.cheatriveroutfitters.com/. Don't forget about the Cheat River!

One of the CRO guides wades over to help a woman stuck on a submerged rock. Notice the large dead tree stuck on top of the biggest rock visible downstream--it was apparently stranded there from a previous flood.

My West Virginia "Stay-cation"

I enjoyed a West Virginia “stay-cation” over an extended Fourth of July holiday weekend (in spite of the derecho storm that knocked out power around the area). I’ve probably done two dozen whitewater trips on various rivers over the years, and rafting is always fun. One of the outfitters (ACE Adventures near Oak Hill) was offering half-price deals on July 4, plus a “Big Air” contest afterwards (more on this later), so I had made reservations.

The hot summer weather had the New River running lower than normal, but we still had a great time. It is hard to beat a day on the river! It is especially beautiful to float down the rapids underneath of the New River Gorge Bridge. Once we got back, our attention switched to the lake at ACE, which has a white sandy beach and lots of floating inflatable devices (trampolines, sliding boards, etc.) and other activities to prolong your fun after the whitewater has ended.

The “Big Air” contest involved “the Blob”—a big partially inflated airbag below a tower. The idea is for one person to sit at the end, while another person jumps off the tower. Upon impact, the airbag bulges out, thus launching the person sitting at the end. The contest was to see who had the best “ejection” from the blob. Given my size, I served as the launcher rather than the launchee. Although we didn’t win, it was a fun thing to try. I have a new respect for stuntmen who routinely use these airbags when falling from buildings and such.

After taking our showers by flashlight (the electricity still had not been restored at ACE), we headed to Fayetteville for a late dinner. Unfortunately, nothing was open yet because of the continuing power problems. This was a big week for many small businesses related to the tourist industry, so it was sad that they were not able to take full advantage of the delicious eateries there because of the storm aftermath. [By the way, check out this story about the Fayetteville storm aftermath by a Pittsburgh journalist--http://www.post-gazette.com/stories/opinion/perspectives/saturday-diary-thank-you-west-by-god-virginia-643641/]

The next afternoon, we set off on another adventure—this time to cross the New River Gorge bridge, via the catwalk underneath. We arrived at the BridgeWalk headquarters near the National Park Service Visitor Center, and put on the necessary safety harness. Soon we were clipped to the safety wire and walking out onto the catwalk, which is only about two and a half feet wide (but with sturdy railings on both sides). A family from Alabama was ahead of us and a husband and wife from Indiana were behind us as we made our way across the 3300 foot span. Our guide provided lots of interesting information about the design and history of the bridge. It was quite a spectacular view! Plus, we even got to see one of the peregrine falcons that make their home under the bridge!

After dinner at Pies & Pints in Fayetteville (a great place, and one of the only Fayetteville restaurants that had reopened as of July 5), we headed out for a little hike to the Long Point overlook. The National Park Service has developed a lot of nice hiking trails around the gorge, and this particular trail takes you to the point of rocks across from the New River Gorge Bridge with a scenic overlook. It is only 1.6 miles from the designated parking area, and the view is stupendous when you finally arrive. We got there as a thick white fog was rising from the New River while the sun was beginning to set in the west. It was an absolutely beautiful vista!

Friday and Saturday were spent kayaking in several locations. Summersville Lake is known for its rock cliffs and clear water. Supposedly, it is one of the best places to scuba dive in the eastern United States. It was great to paddle along the rocky coastline, and gaze into the coke-bottle clear green water. My only complaint is that it was so popular that weekend, with lots of boaters and jet skis enjoying the water. Kayakers must have a good sense of balance with all the boat waves, plus the “echo” waves bouncing back from the rock cliffs.

Another kayaking destination was the area just below Kanawha Falls. There is a small island in the middle of the Kanawha River below the falls, and I had always wanted to explore it. I beached my kayak and walked around—it felt good to be “king” of my own island! Maybe it is a result of watching “Gilligan’s Island” as a kid, but I have always been fascinated with islands. By the way, if you have only viewed Kanawha Falls from the small parking lot off of U.S. Route 60, you really haven’t experienced Kanawha Falls. It is such a wide expanse, and much of it is hidden from view unless you are in a boat or perhaps riding the New River Train (http://www.newrivertrain.com/nrt.html) on the opposite shore (as we did last fall, and were amazed at viewing the falls from this different vantage point).

We also transported our kayaks to a small park in Gauley Bridge between Route 16 and the river. We first headed for the big rocks in the river across from where the Gauley meets the New to form the Kanawha River. One of these rocks has an old bus perched on it that has been converted into a house. The bus house on the rock has captivated me since my childhood days of traveling Route 60 to visit relatives at Norfolk for our annual vacation. I am not the only one captivated by this island home—I also remember that West Virginia Public Television did a story about this local landmark years ago.

Perhaps the biggest surprise while exploring the initial stages of the Kanawha River was the huge carp that we often scared away. They seemed to be well over three feet long, if not approaching four feet. We paddled upstream into the New River, past the Sunoco Station and the campground that has been there for years. The river narrows between two major rock outcroppings near the railroad bridge across from Cathedral Falls. It took some hard paddling to get through the current at that point, but we were able to keep going all the way to the old hydroelectric plant before turning around.

The Gauley River was our final place to explore. The water is exceptionally clear, and it was interesting to see the varying terrain of the river bottom (sometimes quite shallow, only to give way to a deep hole), as well as the number of 1-2 foot smallmouth bass. I was particularly interested in the old cut-stone bridge pier that remains in river, above both the train and the Route 60 bridges. It looks like it might have been around during the Civil War, as a lot of action took place in the Gauley Bridge area. In fact, my thrice-great-grandfather fought for the Union in this area, and he may well have marched over the bridge that this remaining pier supported. I’m sure he had no idea that 150 years later, his great-great-great-grandson would be paddling around in a plastic boat near that bridge pier.

After going as far up the Gauley as we could without getting out to drag the kayaks, we drifted back towards the town of Gauley Bridge. A church bell tolled out that it was 3:00 PM, but then continued with a variety of patriotic tunes. Apparently this Gauley Bridge church has a bell carillon, and was doing a special set of songs for the July 4th weekend. This patriotic salute as we loaded up the kayaks was a great way to end our Independence Day weekend stay-cation in wild, wonderful West Virginia.

The beautiful view from my kayak, looking down the New River towards its confluence with the Gauley River.

Back to college!

I love the two universities I attended! I spent four years at the University of Charleston getting my bachelor’s degree in political science, and then I spent about four years in Morgantown at West Virginia University getting my master’s in public administration and my doctorate of jurisprudence. Both schools are near and dear to my heart.

The capital city of Charleston holds a big event called “FestivALL,” celebrating all sorts of arts and music. The riverbank in front of the University of Charleston, with its excellent view of the state capitol building, is the site for two main FestivALL musical events—“Blues, Brews, and BBQ” on Friday night, and “Wine and all that Jazz” on Saturday night. Anna and I decided to travel to Charleston for the weekend because UC offered alumni not only discount tickets to these two events, but also the unique opportunity to live in a student dorm room for the weekend.

Although I have taught part-time at WVU-Parkersburg over the years, I am grateful that I didn’t stay at home and attend this community college. Going away and living in a dorm was one of the best times of my life. I learned a great deal in the classrooms at UC (particularly Room 306 of Riggleman Hall, where all the political science classes were taught), but I learned even more about life by living in the dorms. I was exposed to living in close quarters with people from far away exotic places, such as Africa and the Middle East, as well as from Joizey and Lon Gisland (New Jersey and Long Island, each spelled with their particular vernacular). Being on your own, getting along with a myriad of other people, budgeting your limited funds, doing your own laundry, planning your schedules, eating new foods (for example, I had never eaten a bagel until college)—all these contributed greatly to the learning process at a residential liberal arts college.

So with great anticipation, Anna and I headed south on I-77 to Charleston, to move back into a dorm room at UC. Since it was just for a weekend, the Prius was not jam packed with stuff like the 1970 Volkswagen Beetle was for my first trip to college (actually, fellow Parkersburg High School crew team member Richard C. rode down to UC with me, so the VW was packed to the max with stuff for two freshman to move into the dorms). However, I did bring a few extras to decorate the room for this nostalgic trip back to my life in the late ‘70s.

We checked in at the UC Alumni Office, and received our keys from Alumni Director Bridgette Borst (a 2007 grad from UC). Our room was in one of the new dorms, Middle Hall, and it uses a “smart card” to open the outside doors (no need for someone to “work the desk” to control access like the girls dorm had back in the old days—on the other hand, the boys dorms back then were pretty much wide open all the time).

However, once you got through the front door by holding your smart card near the reader, the key to your actual room is still one of those bronze “Schalge” keys like we had in the ‘70s—minus the plastic key fob with your room number and a “postage guaranteed if found” message. The room itself was much bigger (probably twice as large, plus the ceilings are much higher) than what the old dorms offered. In addition, there was a private bathroom, opened only with your room key, directly across the hall! The community bathroom and showers are a thing of the past, just like the pay phone booths that used to be found in each section of the old dorms. All the furniture was modular, allowing for easy redesign of the basic layout (including moving the beds together). The study chairs were uniquely designed—they were not rocking chairs, but did offer two separate seating angles. A person could choose to sit upright or could lean the chair back—without putting all the weight on just two legs.

To recreate my dorm room, I brought with me an old UC crew poster to put up in my room, along with one of the wooden blades that Roger B’s dad had carved, to give it the crew team motif. Roger and I had rowed together at PHS, and then roomed together for my first two years at college. I also brought with me the old plaster cast from when I had broken my leg while ice skating at the Charleston Civic Center ice rink my freshman year. It contains dozens of autographs from my friends at college during that era. In addition, I brought an empty champagne bottle from the gala celebration held on September 7, 1997, for the fancy dedication of the new Clay Tower building on the UC campus. Although I had long since graduated, it seemed fitting to have this 9/7/97 bottle in the room to represent my long-time involvement as an alum. Although I thought about it, I didn’t bother to add a candle to create one of those wine bottle candlestick holders that were popular in the old days—I didn’t want to get kicked out of the dorm for having an open flame.

I couldn’t find any of my undergraduate textbooks, but I did bring along former West Virginia Supreme Court Justice Richard Neely’s book entitled “How Courts Govern America.” I had taken Justice Neely’s economics classes at UC, and he was a very interesting adjunct professor. You had to get up early because he only taught 8:00 classes, but there are few teachers who can make the “dismal science” of economics interesting. Thus his book was placed on my bookshelf in the room to represent all the college textbooks I would have had back in my student days.

Although most of the UC students were gone for the summer, there was a group of students from George Mason University staying in our dorm. I got into some interesting conversations with these students at various times over the weekend, both inside and at the picnic tables just outside, which reminded me of the discussions we used to have in the dorms back in the '70s. Speaking of that era, these George Mason students (located in Fairfax, VA) were surprised to learn that their Lt. Governor Bill Bolling had graduated from UC with me. I also got to regale them with some West Virginia history, plus I impressed the African exchange student by describing precisely where his home country of Togo was located. Fun times!

After getting moved into the dorm room, we strolled around campus as I often do when time allows in Charleston. I love sitting in my old classroom, venturing through the student union, peering into the gym, walking around the boathouse, or hanging out on the riverbank. See my previous blog posting at http://inquisineer.blogspot.com/2011/03/ucs-hallowed-ground.html for a discussion of how special the UC riverbank is for many of us.

For these big events, temporary fencing is installed around the riverbank to control admission. We were among the first to arrive on Friday and enjoyed a long evening of very good blues performers. We were able to eat some good barbecue as well. Surprisingly, our favorite food vendor was the UC cafeteria’s tent. Their barbecue sandwiches were delicious, and Anna loves their homemade potato chips, which we have previously enjoyed at other alumni events like Homecoming and the Governor’s Cup Regatta.

On Saturday morning, we headed out to spend the day visiting relatives, but made our way back to campus for that evening’s jazz performance. Apparently wine and jazz are more popular in Charleston than beer and blues music, because the crowd was definitely larger on Saturday (of course, Saturday is easier to do things since one is not generally dealing with workplace obligations that day). The entire riverbank seemed to be packed with people, clear back to the barbecue trailers set up near the boathouse.

As for me, if I had to pick I think I like blues better than jazz, but I can certainly appreciate both styles of music—Anna and I both have eclectic tastes and can enjoy all forms of music. As we entered the riverbank area, I was thrilled to hear the loudspeakers playing the entire Steely Dan “Aja” album as filler before the band started. I didn’t buy a lot of music during my college days, but this album was one of the few that I spent my precious dollars on, and I played it a lot. It was the perfect music for me to hear during this nostalgic weekend!

The jazz performers were just as talented as the blues performers the night before, and it was great sitting along the Kanawha River for hours as the sun went down behind us and the stars came out in the night sky. The weather was perfect for the entire weekend (a bit of rain had fallen Friday afternoon, but had moved out before the show was to start, which may have also contributed to the lower attendance the first night). Coal barges moved up and down the river as pleasure boats anchored off the riverbank to listen on the festivities both nights. The entire event was a visual and auditory delight.

After Friday’s show, Anna and I walked the gravel trail the length of the riverbank and then down to the crew team’s boat dock in the dark to hang out on the river for a while. After Saturday’s show, we did what students of my era often did—hang out on the steps of the student union. From those steps, you could see all the way down to Dickinson Hall (the girls dorm) on your left, and both Benedum and Cox Halls (the boys dorms) to your right. It was a great meeting place in the days before video games and hundred-channel cable TV packages started keeping today’s students more isolated unto themselves in their rooms.

We then headed into our dorm, but (not having brought our own TV for just the weekend) decided to watch Saturday Night Live in the lounge. During my first two years on campus, I didn’t have a TV in my room, so the concept of watching TV in the lounge was not new to me. Not only did we get to watch SNL, but they also had an old-fashioned foosball table in the lounge—and it didn’t require quarters to play it. We had a good time before calling it a night.

All in all, we had a great weekend pretending to be college students again and living in a dormitory. It’s not possible to turn the clocks back to the late ‘70s, but I always enjoy revisiting my past. I am grateful for the good start to my adult life that I got at UC, as well as the sound academic foundation that enabled me to graduate from law school. Although I didn’t see as many alums from my era as I had hoped, Anna and I had such a good time that we will likely do this again in the future. After a weekend of re-living my college days, I will now head back to adult life and Monday morning at work. If only to be 18 again!

The old University of Charleston crew poster I brought with me to decorate my weekend dorm room, leaning on the bookshelf.

Und Brodvay, again

As a college graduation present to my daughter and her boyfriend, Anna and I took them on Lisa Starcher Collins’ most recent Arts & Culture Tours New York City bus trip. Anna and I took Halley on one of these three-day, two-night journeys last year (see my prior blog posting “Und Brodvay” (http://inquisineer.blogspot.com/2011/11/und-brodvay.html) which also explains the title above). Lisa does a great job coordinating these trips, and we stay at a Marriott right on Times Square. It is a great way to see the Big Apple.

After checking in upon arrival Friday afternoon, we immediately went to the TKTS half-price Broadway ticket booth. Based on what was available that evening, Anna and I decided to see the revival of Gore Vidal’s “The Best Man”—a political morality play set in a fictional election in 1960. We were drawn to this play not just for the story (both of us being interested in politics and old enough to have lived in the ‘60s), but also because it had so many stars. These included James Earl Jones and Angela Lansbury (both of whom had begun their Broadway careers before I was born), as well as Candice Bergen, John Larroquette, and Eric McCormick (Will from TV’s “Will and Grace”). We enjoyed the show very much!

Prior to the show, we walked from Times Square down Broadway to the Empire State Building. Anna and I love walking in NYC, just soaking in the big city vibes. We decided to eat dinner at the Heartland Brewery in the base of the Empire State Building. I got the Ahi Tuna sandwich, with wasobi and ginger, and it was incredible! It turned out to be our favorite dish of the weekend. We then walked back north along Fifth Avenue, turning at Rockefeller Center and checking out the NBC store. We also ventured over to the Ed Sullivan Theater (home of the David Letterman show) and into a few more tourist stores, including the M&M’s store and Jamba Juice prior to heading for the show.

Halley’s boyfriend Robbie is a big baseball fan, especially a New York Yankee fan. His second favorite team is the Cincinnati Reds, and they happened to be playing the New York Mets this particular weekend (the Yankees were on the road). So the two of them spent Friday night watching the Reds beat the Mets at Citi Field (which included an after-game concert by the ‘70s rock group “.38 Special”). We had agreed to meet after our play and their game at Bubba Gump’s in Times Square for a late night appetizer and to talk about our evenings. Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Company is a restaurant chain based on the Forrest Gump movie. The host and the waitstaff like to hit you up with trivia questions about the movie. It turns out that Robbie loves that movie and has watched it repeatedly, so both the host and our waitress were unable to stump us with their trivia questions.

On Saturday, I woke up early and got in the ticket line for an afternoon matinee. We were fortunate to get great half-price tickets to see “War Horse” at Lincoln Center at 2:00 PM. However, the TKTS office in Times Square doesn’t start selling evening show tickets until the afternoon—but a satellite office at the South Street Seaport starts selling them at 11:00 AM. So once I had the “War Horse” tickets (and by now, Anna was awake), we headed to the New York subway to ride to the southern end of Manhattan. The South Side Seaport is an interesting area, with historic old buildings and a few tall sailing ships moored at the dock. We had to stand in line for awhile, but we were able to purchase the tickets we wanted—Cirque du Soleil at Radio City Music Hall for that night.

We then ventured over to the Brooklyn Bridge, and made the walk across the East River from Manhattan to Brooklyn. It was more crowded that I had expected, but it was still great to get that view of the spider web of old iron cables strung across the stone towers. It is featured in lots of movies and TV, but I especially associate it with the movie “Sophie’s Choice.” The nearly completed World Trade Center replacement building could be seen when looking back towards Manhattan, and made us wonder what the Brooklyn Bridge pedestrian walkway must have been like on September 11.

We had hoped to eat some Brooklyn pizza for lunch at a famous place called Grimaldi's, but we were beginning to worry about our time situation, so we just went ahead and walked over to the Clark Street subway station and headed under the river and north to Lincoln Center. Exiting at the 72nd Street station, we grabbed a slice of pizza from a typical small New York pizzeria as our lunch before the play. We then walked down a few blocks to the Lincoln Center Complex, which includes several theaters, the Julliard School, and a wonderful fountain, reflecting pool, and grassy hillside. As an added bonus, Lincoln Center was hosting an arts & crafts fair, which (needless to say) included lots of creative and high end products.

The play itself was phenomenal! War Horse tells the story of a British boy and his horse, and the horrors of the Great War (what World War I was called before World War II came along). It provides a good look back on the history of that era, and the story itself is marvelous, but what really makes this play memorable is the way they created “puppets” to represent horses. Generally it required three people to manipulate the horses, but they did such a fantastic job that your mind was able to suspend the fact that humans were involved and instead, look at these representations as if they were real horses. It was incredible how life-like they could be, mimicking the way a horse breathes, or the movement of their ears or tail. They even had mastered the sounds a horse makes. It was a magnificent performance, and we had great seats just six rows from the stage—the best seats we got ended up being for the best show of the weekend.

After the show, we walked south on 9th Street, heading for the restaurants in the Hell’s Kitchen area for dinner. We wanted to find an interesting one that also allowed us to sit on or near the sidewalk, so that we could take in more of the New York city culture. We walked until the cross streets were in the 30s before turning around and walking back. It was a hard decision, but we both like Asian food so we decided to try a little place called Ideal Thai Restaurant (which offered an early dinner special). It was one of those restaurants whose front wall opens up, so we were sitting at the first table inside, but were immediately adjacent to the street and sidewalk. The view was nice, and price was right, but the food didn’t impress us—not that it was bad, but just that we expected something more than what we got. The new Thai restaurant in Morgantown was just as good as this place. Oh well!

We then headed back to the hotel and changed before going to Radio City Music Hall. I had been to a show there back in the ‘90s, but Anna had never been inside. I knew that the venue itself was a sight to behold, and since we both had always wanted to see a Cirque du Soleil show (this one was entitled “Zarkana”), it worked out perfect. Unlike my previous visit when I was mired near the back of the hall, this time our tickets were only 13 rows back—not quite as good as what we had at Lincoln Center, but still great seats in such a humongous auditorium.

Cirque du Soleil is known for their ultra-creative combination of art, music, and acrobatics. This particular show featured trapeze artists, jugglers, tight rope walkers, sand artists, and more. It was one incredible performance after another, all presented in a most unique way on this grand stage. Although we were very impressed with the show (and the venue), it did not top “War Horse” for my Best Show of the Weekend award.

Halley and Robbie had ventured off on their own again this day, so that they could take the official tour of Yankees Stadium. They bought tickets that afternoon to see a Broadway play called “Nice Work If You Can Get It” starring Matthew Broderick, which they enjoyed very much. We again arranged an after show get together for appetizers and to discuss our respective activities of the day. This time we took them to Dave & Busters, a national chain that combines a restaurant with a large arcade full of computer games, skee ball, etc. Anna and I have been to D&Bs in both Columbus and DC, but Halley and Robbie were not familiar with this restaurant/arcade. We had a good time, especially watching the two youngsters playing games in D&B for the first time (I think they will be hitting D&B again someday).

On Sunday, we started the day with the four of us grabbing a bite at Junior’s bakery next door to the hotel. Then we caught the subway from 42nd Street to 86th Street. The four of us wanted to visit the American Museum of Natural History, a huge complex just off Central Park. We spent most of the day exploring this famous repository of world knowledge. There was everything from dinosaur bones to moon rocks, from cultures around the world to the microscopic world, from the depths of the ocean to the vast reaches of outer space. It would take a week to thoroughly explore this vast collection.

Upon leaving the museum, we again went our own way as we each ventured back towards Times Square to catch the bus home. Anna and I walked to the Strawberry Fields memorial to John Lennon in Central Park, and then down 8th Street, stopping eventually for an early dinner at an Irish restaurant. One of their daily specials included something called “Black & White Pudding.” The thought of getting a dessert included with my meal appealed to me, but fortunately I asked the waitress about the pudding. It turns out it is a form of sausage made from pigs blood, so I decided to choose something else. Normally I am willing to be adventurous with food, but with a long bus trip home ahead of me, I decided to not try something that exotic for the first time. The food we had was good, and the old building housing the restaurant was interesting, but the prize for best meal goes to Heartland Brewery in the Empire State Building.

We stopped at Jamba Juice (a chain specializing in healthy drinks, and which has been featured in Saturday Night Live skits) for a green tea smoothie (a favorite drink that we had discovered on previous trips to NYC) before boarding the bus. We had a lot of fun in our limited time in the Big Apple, but there is never enough time to do everything we would like to do. I don’t want to live in NYC, but I do like visiting it, and so we will continue with our occasional forays to the Big Apple because there is also something new for us to see there. It is quite a place!

You otter try this!

On a beautiful summer day, Anna and I took our kayaks to Bruceton Mills, just off I-68 in Preston County, to try out Big Sandy Creek above the old stone mill dam. An early settler, John M. Hoffman, named Bruceton Mills after his stepfather, George Bruce, who claimed to be a direct descendent of Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland.

As we paddled upstream from the put-in at the dam, past the few buildings in this small town, one of the last glimpses before the forest was an old white church on top of the hill behind the town. Soon all we saw was green forest crowding both the banks, along with a beautiful blue sky, with a few billowy white clouds, and golden sunlight glinting off the water.

Besides the big trees, there were heavy laurel thickets. I had always thought it would be easy to hike through a laurel thicket, because after all, they are just something akin rhododendron bushes. That was until I tried it years ago—it is surprising how strong and unrelenting mountain laurel can be!

As we paddled up, a sapphire-blue dragonfly hitched a ride on the bow of my kayak. Dragonflies are amazing creatures, and often have vivid colors. Within the water, we could see fish, both large and small. Sometimes it seemed that whole schools of minnows would jump out of the water at the same time (reminding me of the flying fish we have observed while on cruise ships). Anna was lucky enough to see a fish about a foot-long jump way out of the water, but all I got to see was the circular waves from where it landed back in with a splash.

We also watched a belted kingfisher fly from one bank to another, always staying in a tree ahead of us as we paddled north. Then, we saw him dive head first into the water, and come up with a fish in his mouth. He flew to an old dead tree limb and eventually worked the fish around to go down his throat.

Watching the kingfisher catch a fish was pretty interesting, and would ordinarily have made my day. However, this was no ordinary day! As we continued paddling upstream, I noticed a commotion in the water near the right bank. We stopped paddling and just coasted quietly, as we had stumbled upon what I assume to be four young river otters playing in the creek. They were so busy with their own mischievous horseplay that they didn’t notice us at first. I happened to be on the same side of the creek as they were, and I was able to glide quite close before they saw me. I got a good look at their flattish faces, their dark eyes, and the light colored hair around their mouth and whiskers. Best of all, the water was clear enough for me to see them as they swam underwater to get past me. I have always enjoyed watching otters at the French Creek Game Farm and other zoos, but getting to see the real thing in the wild was an experience I’ll never forget!

We pressed northward, passing the occasional rope swing showing signs of summer swimming holes. We crossed under an old iron bridge at a summer cabin and camping area. It turns out this was only about the halfway point for us. Even though the old mill dam back at the starting point is only about 10-15 feet tall, it creates a surprisingly long pool of water for flatwater kayaking.

Soon we were away from any signs of civilization again, with only the sound of birds in the forest. Except for once when we heard what sounded like a tree falling in the forest. Since we were there to hear it, it qualified as making noise (as in the old metaphysical question “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around…”).

Just as we had forced the kingfisher to flee upstream ahead of us (until he caught his fish), we also noticed a large, long-necked waterbird (a heron?) flying ahead of us whenever we would round a bend. It was more elusive than the kingfisher and it never let us get close to it. But we did get close to a deer that had come down to the creek for a drink of water before noticing us gliding along (she quickly retreated with a loud snort).

Eventually we reached some riffles in the water showing that the pool had ended. We could have got out and pulled the kayaks up into the next pool to see what came next, but we decided to save that for another day. Instead, we turned around and retraced our route back downstream to the old mill dam (but unfortunately the otters were apparently hiding this time).

We will definitely return in the future, because this was a great place for flatwater kayaking. It is easy to get to, being less than a mile from the interstate, yet still gives a sense of wilderness. Best of all, we can bring friends who don’t have kayaks here to join us, because there is a small business called “Padlz” (www.padlz.com) that rents kayaks and canoes here. It all made for a glorious day in wild, wonderful, West Virginia!

A Nice Place To Visit (but I'm glad I wasn't born there)

If you know me at all, you know I am a proud West Virginian. Some of my ancestors fought with the Union Army during the Civil War that created my home state. I’ve written before about my strong attachment to my native state, and how, despite its troubles, it will always be near and dear to my heart. From Hancock County in the north to McDowell County in the south, from Kenova at the western point to Harper's Ferry at the eastern point, I identify with the entire state.

However, my hometown is just across the river from the state of Ohio. I came close to being an Ohioan, and not just due to my proximity to the border. My father’s family spent time living in Ohio during the Depression and World War II (my grandmother served as a “Rosie the Riveter” building F-4 Corsair fighter planes in Akron), but thankfully they came home to West Virginia after the war. Had they stayed in Akron, my parents would have never met and I’d never have been born. Some other version of my father’s son would have likely been born in the Buckeye state.

Indeed, the industrial base of Akron was a prime destination for West Virginians looking for work for the first half of the 20th century. In my grandparent’s era, there was an old adage that the “Three R’s” taught in West Virginia schools were “readin’, ‘ritin’, and Route 21”--which was the road that led north to Akron and Cleveland. Once the northern part of I-77 was finished in the '70s, old two-lane U.S. Route 21 was demoted from being a U.S. Route, and became West Virginia Route 14 from Charleston to Parkersburg, as well as Route 821 in Ohio. [I saw a form of this same outward migration during my lifetime. After the completion of the southern part of Interstate 77 (and with air conditioning making the south more hospitable), Charlotte became a prime destination for West Virginians wanting better jobs.]

Ohio has some good things about it, and I certainly enjoy visiting and doing things there. Athens is a cool college town little more than half an hour away that reminds me of Morgantown (before the expansion WVU has experienced since I graduated). There are lots of interesting restaurants and stores, a top-notch film festival each spring, plus an ice rink and a hockey team. Halloween is a huge holiday there—we went once just to observe the creative costumes. I also wrote in my blog last fall about my first Ohio University football game and the talented Marching 110 band. As with any major college campus, there are always tons of interesting activities going on there.

Columbus has always been the closest major city to my hometown, and I can remember a few trips there back in the ‘60s. I also remember Dad listening to radio WTVN 610 AM (I think it was one of those 50,000 watt radio stations that could be heard in West Virginia) in the car sometimes. In my adult life, it has become a favorite weekend destination, with tons of interesting activities. Our favorite, of course, is the good folks at Shadowbox Live, which is hard to describe, but a bit like Saturday night live, except with more music between the skits (www.shadowboxlive.org). Other favorite landmarks include COSI, the Columbus Zoo, the Santa Maria, the Art Museum, the Franklin Conservatory, etc. Ameriflora in 1992—a celebration of Columbus’s voyages 500 years earlier—was phenomenal.

Cincinnati and Cleveland are a longer drive, but each of these two metropolitan areas has their own unique attractions, such as the Underground Railroad Museum and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (just to name one—of many—from both). Dayton (Air Force Museum), Akron (Inventors Museum), and Canton (Football Hall of Fame) are other interesting cities. Put-in-Bay gives a tropical island feel even though it has Lake Erie weather. Although not located in major cities, the outdoor dramas “Blue Jacket” and “Tecumseh,” as well as the Ohio Renaissance Festival, the Hocking Hills area, and “the Wilds,” have been very entertaining. Finally, the sports fan inside me has to mention that I’ve been to Browns, Reds, and Blue Jackets games, in addition to races at about a dozen oval tracks around Ohio as well as NHRA events at National Trail Dragstrip.

What I’m trying to say is that Ohio has a lot going for it. If nothing else, at least people know it really is a state (some folks are too dumb to understand that West Virginia is its own state). Despite Ohio’s current economic problems (that everyone seems to be facing), it is still a prosperous and progressive state. Ohio often figures prominently in national politics and was the home of several presidents. It has always been a powerful state, with major league sports teams, and a perennial NCAA championship contender with the Ohio State Buckeyes. It seems that OSU has hardly ever suffered a losing season, especially in football.

While all of these things are wonderful, and the list should be even longer, the fact remains that I am glad I am a West Virginian. I am so thankful that the strong bonds to family and to these hills called my father’s family back to West Virginia after the war. Plus, I’m thankful that my mom’s side of the family had long been entrenched here—and it is through her that I have the two ancestors who fought for the Union Army during the Civil War to help create the state of West Virginia. Had the Confederates been victorious, the fledgling state of West Virginia would no doubt have been given back to the politicos in Richmond.

Much of my personality—my inner psyche—is tied to my native state, and the lack of full respect I feel it deserves. How many times do we have to be the punchline for a TV comedian, or be lumped into Virginia by some clueless sportscaster? I don’t know what it would have been like to have been raised in a state like Ohio that was seen as an important state. I’m especially glad I didn’t grow up in the flat regions of Ohio—flat land still makes me a bit nervous. Give me some hills for security!

I’m glad I grew up in a rural state, with lots of scenic beauty. If I want metropolitan areas and the cultural diversions they provide, they can be driven to when needed. In the meantime, I’ll stick to the West Virginia hills and the comfort they provide. Our citizens may not be the most educated or the most affluent, but there is an innate goodness within the vast majority of them.

And I’ll keep cheering for the Mountaineers, whether they are winning or losing, because that WV logo represents me. Losing seasons just make you appreciate the winning ones even better. There are good life lessons that come from the pain of defeat (or of disrespect), and I feel I had the chance to learn a lot over the years. It is just part of that "chip on the shoulder" that most of us carry. West Virginians have always had to fight a little harder than everyone else to prove we belong, going all the way back to our birth as a state (see my previous essay at http://inquisineer.blogspot.com/2011/05/not-bastard.html). It is who we are—and I am glad I am one, instead of a Buckeye.

That's me standing next to some of West Virginia's majestic natural beauty.  This is just one of a series of waterfalls along Deckers Creek near Morgantown.  It is a wild, wonderful state!

Sweet 16

I am a motorcyclist, and in my mind there is no better place for motorcycling than our two lane roads in West Virginia. Around every corner and over every peak is a new vista to enjoy. I can’t imagine that motorcycling across the flatlands could be near as fun (nor challenging) as the twists and turns of our backroads and highways.

One of my favorite rides is West Virginia Route 16 (although this trip also can be fun in the right car). This highway transverses the state, from the majestic Ohio River at St.Marys to the Virginia border beyond Coalwood (the company town made famous in the book “Rocket Boys” which became the movie “October Sky”) in McDowell County.

St. Marys in Pleasants County is just the first of many county seats that this highway connects. Following soon thereafter as one proceeds south is Harrisville in Ritchie County, Grantsville in Calhoun County, and Clay in—where else—Clay County.

In Clay County, Route 16 runs along the Elk River. If you have only seen the Elk River near its terminus in Charleston where it joins the Kanawha River, you can’t truly appreciate the Elk. It is a beautiful mountain river tumbling over the rocks as you run beside it, before crossing a bridge and heading up the hill to cross a ridge into another watershed.

Soon you enter the Gauley River drainage area, and eventually run alongside it until it meets the New River at Gauley Bridge. The Gauley is famous for its rafting, especially in the fall when water is released from the Summersville Dam. It is the most thrilling whitewater rafting in the eastern United States! [Indeed, I have rafted many rivers, but none compare to the mighty Gauley in the fall.]

At the end of the Gauley, Route 16 turns left and joins U.S. Route 60 (known as the Midland Trail highway) for an assault on Gauley Mountain. If you have the time, you may want to take a diversion to the right, past the little town of Gauley Bridge and through the adjoining hamlet of Glen Ferris (home of the historic Glen Ferris Inn, which has been in operation since 1839), and visit the park just below Kanawha Falls. The Kanawha is formed by the merger of the New and Gauley Rivers, and shortly thereafter tumbles over about a twenty foot cataract spanning the broad width of the river. The whole Kanawha Falls and Gauley Mountain area saw a lot of action in the Civil War, and future U.S. Presidents Hayes and McKinley served stints here.

If you skip Kanawha Falls and make the left turn, you still get a shot at a different type of waterfall—smaller, but taller rather than wide. Just a mile or so after Route 16 joins Route 60, the highway jerks left, crossing the railroad tracks, and directly ahead is a pull-off area on the left for Cathedral Falls, where a small stream tumbles down the rocky hillside heading towards the nearby New River. If there have been recent rains, this view can be spectacular.

Soon you are climbing away from the New River and up the legendary Gauley Mountain. The twists and turns over the next 15 miles or so are absolutely incredible, as are the views from several pull-off areas. Just after the tightest hairpin turn at Chimney Corner, Rt. 16 splits away from Rt. 60 and heads down to cross the New River over the low Cotton Hill bridge, before climbing up out of the gorge and into Fayetteville (the county seat of Fayette County). By the way, Fayette County has become quite the tourist destination in recent years, with lots of interesting shops and activities—too many to list here.

Another option is to veer left at Chimney Corner and follow Rt. 60 up the hill to Hawks Nest State Park, with its iconic overlook of the gorge (if you stop, be sure to read about the tragedy involved with the New River tunnel). Continuing on past Ansted, you can get on U.S. 19, and cross over the famous New River Gorge Bridge (as pictured on the back of the West Virginia quarter). Each year on the third Saturday in October, this four-lane highway is closed down for Bridge Day, as pedestrians flock to watch the parachutists jump off the bridge. Route 16 can be easily rejoined on the south side of the gorge at Fayetteville. Before leaving Fayette County, you pass through the town of Oak Hill—it was along Route 16 here that country singer Hank Williams died.

The next county is Raleigh County, and its county seat of Beckley, the only large town along this trip. After crossing under the West Virginia Turnpike, Rt. 16 continues south past Sophia, which was known as the hometown of former U.S. Senator Robert Byrd, and then through Mullins, the hometown of former NBA coach Mike D’Antoni.

The final two county seats are Pineville in Wyoming County and Welch in McDowell County. It is easy to see how populated and prosperous the southern West Virginia coalfields were in their glory years. Unfortunately, these areas are struggling to cope with the changing economic situation. Below Welch is the little town of Coalwood, the furthest south I’ve traveled on this trans-West Virginia jaunt.

By staying on just one highway and taking this cross-state road trip, traveling through eight county seats, it is easy to get a sense of rural West Virginia. The views are beautiful, and the driving is much more interesting than the typical interstate superslab. There are lots of intriguing roadside attractions along the way. We truly live in a wild, wonderful state!