Tunnel #7

After visiting Silver Run and looking for marbles in Cairo, we still had enough daylight left to hunt for one more tunnel. We settled on finding Tunnel #7, also known as Calhoun's Tunnel. This one, 770 feet long, is located in the small town of Pennsboro. Once again we had to ask someone for directions as our map was not clear. The man we asked was helpful but when we tried to follow his directions we were still confused, so we pulled over once again to look at the map. To our surprise, the man we'd asked directions from pulled in behind us and offered to lead us to the right place. What a nice guy.

When we got to the parking area beside the rail trail, he asked us if we had a flashlight. Well, I had the one on my phone. The next thing he said surprised me. "Do you have anything for protection? Like a heavy flashlight or something?" He went on to say that there were some not-so-good people in the area, and the tunnel being in a lonesome place, but close enough to the houses where these people lived, well, anything could happen.

You know, I'd never considered the potential danger of these dark, lonely tunnels. Larry took the man at his word, and retrieved a piece of pipe from the van. I was surprised he had it, but he said it was a breaker bar for the lug wrench, in case we had a flat.

Somehow, though, the man's well-meant warning took the fun out of finding tunnel #7. I forged ahead anyway, but Larry was on edge and wary. I admit, I was glad he had the pipe.

So we walked through the tunnel, which actually crossed under US Route 50. I saw many bike tracks in the mud in the tunnel floor, which somehow made me feel better about the place. Still, I was glad to get through it and back again.

You can see how this tunnel takes a slight bend. I am amazed at the brickwork in these tunnels--and at how water trickling down the walls leaves calcium deposits and in some places even forms stalactites.

While this wasn't one of the haunted tunnels, it sure won the prize for creepiness. There must be some story about this tunnel that I have not found, and our informant certainly had his own misgivings about it. Maybe one day I'll come across the tunnel's history.

Burning Bush has naturalized in some places along the trail.

A sassafras leave stands out in gold on green grass.

A huge sycamore leaf, one of many we saw on our walk.

The North Bend Lodge looked pretty welcoming when we returned.

Neither of us were very hungry, but went into the restaurant for a piece of pie (lemon meringue) and some decaf coffee before heading up to our room. Comfort food, maybe? That night I dreamed of trains and tunnels.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Pilgrimage

Two and a half years ago I found a website that told of a sculpture located deep in the country at a little country church. According to that post, the sculpture was seen in France by a soldier during World War I. After the war he came back to the US and raised money to buy and relocate the sculpture to his church in West Virginia. We had been on the little gravel road that led to the church but had turned around before reaching it, having no idea that such a treasure waited a little further down the road.

This past week we were again in the area where the church and the sculpture are located and I was determined to find it. I was intrigued that a statue would so inspire someone that he would go to such lengths to bring it into his daily life. So we retraced our steps.

It seemed that my memory was wrong at first. The road narrowed to two tracks with grass growing in between. We kept going because the gravel was well kept and we reasoned that road had to go somewhere. The all-wheel-drive is not working in my car right now so I was a little worried that we might end up in a place where we needed it, but suddenly the gravel turned to asphalt, and there on our left was a little white Catholic church. Was it the right place? My memory of what I had read said the church was a Lutheran one. Then I saw it--high on the hill in the cemetery. We started the climb.

We passed graves old and new, most with German names and a few with Irish. Some stones have evidently been replaced over the years, evidence of continued care. Flowers bloomed and a soft breeze rustled the leaves of the quiet valley around us.

I wish I had words to describe this sculpture, but perhaps my photos will say it for me:

I tried to find the post that originally sparked my interest in this sculpture but it is no longer make available online. I have also not been able to find any other information about this sculpture online and I wonder about that. I have not said in this post the exact location of the church in case there is a reason for the lack of information (like trying to protect it from vandals). If you would like to make your own journey, please send me an email and I will be happy to send directions. It is an experience I will not forget. A place to lay down troubles and to realize that our sufferings pale in comparison; a place to bow your head and let peace surround you. It was a place I needed to be, and the time I needed to be there.

Copyright 2012 Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Little Buck Run and The German Settlement

A roadside sign and a turn off the highways can lead to some interesting discoveries. We were driving home on WV Rte 18 on Thursday, having decided to take a different way home. I don't know about you, but I get tired of the same old roads and like to find new ways and places. These routes invariably take longer, not just because the roads are narrower and don't go directly to where we want to go, but also because there are new things to see along the way---and sometimes, a side road calling out for investigation.

On Thursday we noticed this historical marker on the side of the road.

We could only make out the name so I pulled out my much battered copy of West Virginia Historical Markers and looked up the name we'd seen on the sign: Joseph Diss Debar. Who was he? we wondered. The name was slightly familiar. I found the listing: creator of the West Virginia State Seal, and he had lived in the tiny community of Leopold that we had just past through. By this time we were a few miles down the road, but Larry obligingly turned around, and we went back to read the sign. Just before the sign was a beautiful old farmstead, and that lured us up Little Buck Run where we found the log barn, old schoolhouse and other homestead pictured yesterday.

I was very curious about the "Saint Clara community" mentioned on the sign. What was that? Back home, I started looking online and found out more:

The Saint Clara community was part of a larger effort to settle Swiss and German immigrants in the state. As this article in Wonderful West Virginia magazine explains, Mr. James Swan bought huge tracts of land in what is now West Virginia for pennies on the acre. He planned to parcel it out and make a fortune but his plans did not work out as planned and he actually died a poor man. A land agency obtained his holdings and hired agents to find people to buy the land. Joseph Diss Debar was one of those agents. In Comstock's West Virginia Heritage Encyclopedia, Boyd Stutler's article on Debar hailed Debar as "the first prophet of West Virginia."

Debar was born in the Alsace province of France, and sailed to America in 1842 on the same ship that brought Charles Dickens to America for a literary tour. Debar met Dickens on the ship; one incident noted by Comstock said that Debar got into a game of blackjack on board and lost almost everything, but then had a run of luck and was able to get over half of his money back. Dickens was watching and signaled to Debar to leave the game at the point, which Debar did, so he retained at least some of his money. Debar became and remained a fan of Dickens for the rest of his life.


In America, the colorful Debar was known for his large mustache and energetic, creative nature. He worked hard to get settlers to come to western Virginia, writing letters and advertisements about the many advantages and resources of the land. He married Clara Levassor in Parkersburg, but she died soon after giving birth to a son. Her parents moved back to their home in Cincinnati, taking the baby with them. Debar moved to his lands in Doddridge county and later married again, and he and his second wife had several children.

It was during this time that Debar envisioned and developed the Saint Clara community. Named for his first wife, the community drew Swiss and German people who were interested in a farming life. The community was prosperous and Debar became its first postmaster. He lived on his farm here until 1866, when he moved to Parkersburg. The Lutheran church was established there in 1852 (and is still there today) and got its first minister in 1867.A soldier who had been in France in the first World War told the church about a bronze sculpture he had seen and the church managed to raise the funds to have the statue brought to Doddridge county in 1921. The statue is still there, and that is what we missed seeing on Thursday. Just a few more miles up the road...so, another road trip will have to be made. This is something I just need to see for myself.

Mr. Debar became interested in politics and was elected to the state legislature the year after West Virginia officially became a state. He was appointed Commissioner of Immigration and continued his efforts to attract immigrants to West Virginia, and even sent, at his own expense, a display of the state's mineral and natural resources to the world fair held in France in 1867. He was asked to design the state's seal and his design was adopted by the legislature and is still in use today.

Eventually Debar moved to Philadelphia but he kept an interest in West Virginia until his death at 85 years of age. According to one of Comstock's sources, at the time of his death, Debar was placing advertisements for his services as a medium who could contact the dead. He was apparently a colorful character right to the end.

Interestingly, a reader of this blog sent me a link to an application for National Historic Register status for one of the homesteads in the area (thanks, Bob!). I am not sure if it is one of the ones we photographed on our trip, so I'll be checking on that when we return too. The application includes a lot of historic information about the area and about the history of this particular piece of property. There is a listing also for Krenn School on Little Buck Run, but I do not know where that is. More investigation!

Little Buck Run, Doddridge County

 A road sign drew us up a tiny hollow yesterday as we took the long way home from Doddridge County, WV. Such side trips usually yield jewels, and this one was no exception. Old homesteads, quiet rural scenes that seemed in some cases to be from 100 years ago were our gift this day.

 This lovely, well-kept and obviously at one time a working homestead provided its own food and fuel, and most likely a good income as well in its heyday. I especially liked the picket fence--in older times, farmers fenced a small yard which was maintained with mowing, flowers, etc, and the rest was farm. It minimized upkeep on the grounds and maximized the usefulness of surrounding land for farming use.

 Log barns were not usually notched as carefully as log homes. You can see the notching on this barn, while sturdy, was not done with that same attention and care that the dovetailed corners of log homes I've pictured in other posts. Still, it's sturdy and serves its purpose, just as it did when it was built, probably 100 years or more ago.

 I learned after we got home that this part of Doddridge county was settled by German immigrants, and that was not surprising in view of the neatly kept homes we saw in the area. The farms were immaculate, and over all, a deep country quiet. This little place looks like it may have been a school at one time.

This is just one of the homeplaces we saw. All the outbuildings attest to this having been one busy working farm that was probably self-sufficient too. 

More about the area in my next post. As for yesterday's storytelling? That's yet another post. It was a very good day.

The Last of Summer Reading Programs

This week was the end of my summer reading performances at libraries, and also the end of the Stories at the River's Edge summer programs. A few pictures of this week's programs:

At West Union, we told stories at the Lions Club building to about 50 children and adults. Here raccoon tells his story once again. This puppet is such a ham! He loves an audience, that's for sure.

Raccoon was joined this summer by Pirate, who helped me tell the story of Jean LaFitte the Gulf of Mexico pirate who helped the US win the Battle of New Orleans, and whose gold is supposedly still hidden in the bayous and swamps of Louisiana. My father often told us about the ghost ships of Jean LaFitte; apparently the pirate isn't resting easy and still comes in search of his gold.

The West Union library is housed in a former opera house and librarian Cathy Ash makes optimum use of the space available to her. Programs at West Union are always well attended. It's a pleasure to see some of the same children from past years, growing up and getting taller than I am.

Raccoon is getting in trouble at Center Point Library! This small, very rural library is really a community center, and the programs usually attract a diverse age range; everyone participates and has a good time.

Later we all got moving with the song "A Sailor Went to Sea." Can you do the oooo-wash-y-wash?

At Moundsville Library, the last sand dollar necklace crafts were made. One little guy, the son of one of my online friends, actually bit the sand dollar, thinking, I suppose, that it was a cookie!

The kids worked hard on their necklaces and I was glad to see the last of the beads being used up. Vicki and Susan at the Moundsville Library made me so welcome. Thank you, ladies!

I was thrilled to meet fellow blogger and friend Jessica of Country Whispers, who came with her daughter Katie for the program. What a pleasure it was to finally meet her in person. And she is just as nice in the flesh as she is online. I wish I had thought to get a picture of us together, but I was so busy getting the program going and finished that I did not even think of it. Next time, Jessica!

So summer reading wraps up. Next week I'll be gone all week to Elkins, WV to learn all about Irish ballads and how to sing them, I hope.

Tomorrow, though, I will be working hard to make pickles of the latest batch of cucumbers and salsa from the very ripe tomatoes I haven't yet had time to deal with.  What if more ripen while I'm gone? I hope friends and family enjoy them!

The Road to New Milton and Back Again

I said, "Stop! That's a cool house. I want to take a picture!"

He said, "There's a sign that says winery. Want to go?"

So we turned onto this one-lane road, seeking a winery that had no name. Here's what we found (besides Dale, the man I wrote about yesterday):

The home of the national marble champion, Ralphie Dillon. This young man lives off the beaten path, but found his way to Pittsburgh to become this year's champion shooter.

Beautiful still waters and crumbling old buildings provided food for thought. Who lived there? Why did they leave?

The road wound around curves, rocks and hills,

by an abandoned one-room schoolhouse,

and picturesque barns,

and more old ruins so hidden in the trees they looked like ghosts of the past.

But some older dwellings, like this one, were still being maintained and loved.

The detailed, tight dovetailing is one reason the cabin has lasted so well and so long,

but unless someone comes along soon to love it, this little place will soon be a memory.

At last, after abut eight ambling miles, we found the winery:

Notice the sign. Saturday and Sunday. We were there on Friday. How sad is that. Cascarelli's, you need to put a sign with your hours at the end of the road. Not nice to potential customers to have them drive 20 minutes or more out of their way to discover your hours.

But on the other hand, we would not have met Dale or had an interesting drive down yet another one-lane road in West Virginia that, like so many others, offered much for reflection. Will we go back? Maybe, although this is definitely off the usual route and not a place we are likely to go for any other reason. But if you'd like to know more about the winery, here's their contact information (note that it says call ahead!):

Cascarelli’s Old Country Wine
John R. Cascarelli
Rt. 3, Box 55A
Salem, WV 26426
304-782-2768
Hours:
Please call ahead.

West Union, West Virginia : A Photo Journey

Fingerpuppet makers worked intently after the storytelling and made some creative puppets. About 50 children participated, a testament to the parents and to the library for encouraging children to be part of the summer reading program.

This is a quick tour of West Union, West Virginia, where I told stories on Thursday for the library.

West Union's Public Library was once an opera house, sponsoring visits by many famous performers in its heyday.

Beautiful homes along some streets testify to the affluent past of the town, where the driller and logger was king when West Union was established. The town was originally known as Lewisport, but in 1857 the B&O railroad put in a station and the name was changed, first to Union and then to West Union. The town is the county seat of Doddridge County, named for an early West Virginia settler named Phillip Doddridge.

The City Hall appears to have been a bank building in its beginning, and there must have been other buildings adjoining the now lone-standing hall. I believe it was a bank because so often banks were built on corners like this in the late 1800's-early 1900's.

The courthouse is the most outstanding building in West Union, and is on the National Register of Historic Places. It crowns the highest point in town and is beautifully restored. We did not have time to go inside, so we have that to look forward to on our next visit. I have been told that the interior has all original woodwork--and the stained glass windows must be gorgeous with light coming through.

Lady Justice with her scales is a focal point of the courthouse's architecture.

West Union celebrates its founding every July with the WestUnionFest. Who can resist bed races, outhouse parades, Native American encampments and Civil War re-enactments and a Liar's Contest? We didn't hear about the Fest until too late to attend, but it's on our calendar for next year.

Want more? Google Books offers an online version of a history of Doddridge and Ritchie counties, complete with many historic photos.