On Dolly Sods

It's time to get back to blogging about our everyday life again, now that I have finally (well, almost) exhausted the memories of our trip to England and Wales. What better place to start than our recent visit to Dolly Sods?

Dolly Sods is a wilderness area in Grant county, WV and is named for the Dahle family who were early German settlers in the area and once owned the mountain.

Its rugged terrain with some of the highest altitudes in our state. These days it is a popular destination for hikers and campers, and berry pickers often come in summer to hunt for the wild blueberries and huckleberries.

There are signs around the area warning of live bombs and ammunition, remnants of World War II training that was conducted here.

It has been quite a while since we were up on Dolly Sods. I had a storytelling event in Grant county last week though, and combined a visit with my oldest son and his family who live in Grant county, the storytelling performance and a quick trip to see the spectacular views from the mountains.

I was surprised that there were so many people there on a Monday.It was very windy and chilly, but there were a lot of people, especially on Bear Rocks which supplies some easily accessible, stunning views. In summer, one needs to be wary of snakes--rattlesnakes and copperheads love this wild land and all the rocks. The wind was so fierce when we were there this time that I had to be extremely when I was out on the cliffs taking photos.

Bears are frequently sighted here, and the smart visitor knows to keep their distance because while black bears are generally not aggressive, a person could inadvertently irritate the bear by getting too close to its young, for instance. We saw neither snakes or bearss this visit, although we have seen both in the past.

About 20 years ago Larry and I camped up on Dolly Sods, and I came away with two memorable stories. Well, maybe three. First, my son and grandson came up to visit us at our campsite. Clayton was 4 or 5 years old I think. We had a campfire and roasted hotdogs and marshmallows, and  Clayton and I went bear-hunting. It was such fun to play imaginary games with him! I still smile, remembering how much he loved being up there, and how he begged to spend the night with us. My son knew his boy, though, and was pretty sure that come midnight, Clayton would have been wanting to go home.

Teaberry is abundant on Dolly Sods. The berries smell exactly like
Clarks Teaberry Gum!

The second memory is of an elderly gentleman who was camping nearby. He was a member of the Dolly family and told us about his boyhood in the area, and about coming up on the mountain to pick berries. According to him, everyone turned their cattle, sheep and hogs loose to grave on the mountain in the summer, and they would go up and round them up in the fall--very like the Swiss do.
He also told us that people used to set the mountain on fire intentionally every 3-4 years so that the berries would grow. This kept the trees and other growth from shading out the berry bushes.

Erosion is evident on the rocks, and most of them seem to be
made of sedimentary material--which is odd, considering
that they are on top of a mountain. The red leaves of a
blueberry or huckleberry bush are behind it.

He said that once the federal government took it over they had to stop the burning, although they would still sneak up there and do it for the first few years after the government came in. He said the burning was probably the reason for all the exposed rocks, and that could be true, as the settlers took the practice from the Native Americans, so who knows how long that had been going on? Given the winds and the relatively dry climate on Dolly Sods, it seems reasonable to think that the top soil would have blown away, exposing the rock. True or not? I don't know.

Wikipedia offers a different version of the history of the area: "The area surrounding Dolly Sods was formerly described as the best spruce-hemlock-black cherry forest in the world, with some enormous trees up to 12 feet in diameter. The huge spruce and hemlock became accessible in 1884 when the West Virginia Central and Pittsburgh Railroad, a predecessor of the Western Maryland Railway, first arrived at nearby Davis, from a junction with the B&O Railroad at Piedmont. In 1899, the Parsons Pulp and Lumber Company (PPLC) established a sawmill at Dobbin on the North Branch Potomac River in Grant County. In 1902, the PPLC installed a new band saw mill on the main stem of Red Creek. The lumber boom town of Laneville soon sprang up around it with a population that peaked at over 300 people.[8]Shay locomotives climbed the temporary railroads into the mountains and backcountry logging camps sprang up throughout the Sods, clearing away the virgin forest to feed the hungry mills. Teams of draft horses dragged all the commercial timber to the nearest tracks. When the timber was exhausted in the sector around one camp, the rails were taken up and reused elsewhere. It was into the mill at Laneville that most of the timber of the southern two thirds of the Sods disappeared.

"Unfortunately, however, the humus covering the ground dried up when the protective tree cover was removed. Sparks from the locomotives, saw mills and logger's warming fires easily ignited this humus layer and the extensive slash — wood too small to be marketable, such as branches and tree crowns — left behind by loggers. Fires repeatedly ravaged the area in the 1910s, scorching everything right down to the underlying rocks. All insects, worms, salamanders, mice and other burrowing forms of life perished and the area became a desert. The destruction was extraordinary.[9] The complete clearcut of this ecologically fragile area, followed by extensive wildfires and overgrazing, exacerbated by the ecological stresses of the elevation, have prevented quick regeneration of the forest which has taken decades to recover. The Monongahela National Forest was created in 1915, largely motivated by a desire to mitigate the sort of wholesale destruction that had swept over the Sods. In 1916 most of Dolly Sods was purchased by the federal government for the MNF from the Bridges Estate." 

The third memory is a story that I laugh at now although at the time it wasn't quite so funny. On that same camping trip we had dropped off our youngest son to spend a week with our son in Virgina. It was a treat for us to have a camping trip with just the two of us. After my son and grandson left, we prepared for bed. I went to get my bag and it wasn't there.

"Larry," I said, "did you get my bag?"

"We just have one, don't we?" he asked. "I gave Tommy his two, and ours is in the car."

Um, no. We had two--one for him and one for me. So there I was on top of lonely Dolly Sods with no clean clothes, no sweatsuit to sleep in (gets cold up there, even in August), and no clean underwear.

You can imagine how quiet it was in our tent that night. I was so angry but knew better than to start talking!

Next morning we went out to pick berries, the reason we were there in the first place. As I stretched to reach one patch, my foot slipped and I heard a R-R-R-I-I-I-P-P-P! That was the seat of my pants--and my shirt did not come down far enough to cover the hole. The trip home was even quieter than the night in the tent--I had no clothes to change into so any bathroom breaks for me meant a run into the bushes. That was a trip to remember--and now to laugh about.

One path I went down took me to a lovely spot, a small clearing surrounded by tall pines.

In its center was a witch hazel tree in bloom.

Such a pretty, unexpected sight when all other trees are losing their leaves.

We did not get to the very end of Dolly Sods. Time passed so quickly up there, and we needed to get back so I could prepare for my storytelling event that evening. I hope we can return soon, perhaps in the spring after the snow melts and the road re-opens.


















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

The Rest of the Story

Dolly Sods, Part 2:

As my sister Mary headed off the road to look at something, I cautioned, "Watch out for rattlesnakes." Judy was ready with a camera and her picture of Mary--and Theresa laughing--says all that needs to be said about the impact of my words. Of course there was no snake. Then.

We left Dolly Sods and headed downhill, stopping to look at the view and at wildflowers we somehow missed on the way up. The gas gauge was getting more interesting all the time--even the light was coming on to say, "Stupid! You should have bought gas before you came up here!" But you see, my Rendezvous has an odd gas gauge--when there is almost half a tank it will drop to empty and RUN OUT OF GAS if I'm on the wrong kind of downhill slope. I know because twice it ran out of gas in my driveway parking spot, even though I knew it had plenty in the tank. Which gave Larry all sorts of "I told you so" ammunition.

But to get back to our trip...


So we looked at flowers and took pictures of the view and no one was really looking at the road--except me because this is a typical one-lane-bumpy gravel-West-Virginia-road and you'd better be paying attention or you'll jar your teeth out in the potholes. And that's why I saw him--or her.

I didn't get close enough to determine the sex. This Eastern Timber Rattler was a beauty and apparently recently shed its skin because it was very brightly and freshly colored. It had nine rattles and a button, Larry told me (you know that by counting the rings at the end of its tail) which means it was no spring chicken.

The snake was about 3-4 feet long and it seemed to be enjoying the warm sun on the road. Even when we tossed some pebbles and a cracker at it (okay, that was me--I thought it might be hungry and want a cream cheese and chives cracker!) it didn't offer to shake its rattles. We stayed in the Rendezvous, of course--except Judy who went around back of the car to look more closely at our friend. Mary and Theresa really weren't interested in looking!

When we left, the snake continued sunning itself. We hadn't disturbed its plans at all.

(And yes. We made it to the gas station with plenty of gas to spare. As soon as we hit a level spot, the light went out and the gauge returned to its correct position. Weird car.)

Four Sisters and the Boggy Sods

Where does this road lead? Read on...

Three sisters and I went for a road trip the day before the "official" family reunion. We started the day with a "sisters breakfast" for those who arrived early. Judy (who lives near Lost River State Park), Mary, Theresa and I all arrived Thursday night. We had a leisurely breakfast, then Theresa said, "I want to go on a road trip. Who wants to go?"

"Where?" we asked.

"Dolly Sods," she said.

If you live in West Virginia you have probably heard of the Dolly Sods wilderness area. It's high atop a mountain, covered with spruce trees, rocks and...a bog. That's right. It's an alpine bog complete with plants usually found only in alpine settings. It is beautiful, wild, and well worth a little road trip.

So off we went. We only stopped at one yard sale along the way, a testament to our determination to see Dolly Sods. I was driving because I knew the way. I have to admit that the car went backwards almost as often as forwards, because we'd see a wild flower or an incredible view and we'd have to reverse to see it. Theresa had several good adrenaline rushes as she looked out her car window at the precipitous drop speeding by--backwards.

On the way up the mountain, we saw an intriguing little spot and stopped to investigate. There we found a wildflower I have read about but never seen--the painted trillium. It was beautiful, and there were many scattered around the bog.

There were other wildflowers here--they will be featured in another post this week.

We drove on and soon came to the gate leading into the wilderness area. Key word there--gate. Never in all my visits to Dolly Sods has that gate been closed. Other people were there, milling about--young people who had traveled from Pennsylvania to hike some of the trails and camp in the primitive campground.

We looked for a way around the gate. There was none. There was also no explanation as to why the gate was locked. It was so frustrating. Theresa and Mary walked a little way along the road and discovered this: The wild bleeding hearts stretched under the evergreens as far back into the woods as we could see.

We looked and photographed and then realized that we had left all our purses in the car, with the doors unlocked--and the keys in the ignition. We hadn't planned to take a walk! Judy took a photo of me taking a photo of Mary and Theresa bending over a plant. I was careful not to take an unflattering "rear" shot, but from the look on her face, I'm not sure Judy was so kind!
All was well when we got back to the car. We headed back down the mountain and towards a gas station because the gas gauge was in an uncomfortable place for being so far from town. We stopped several times going down the mountain to take more photos--and met someone who will be featured in tomorrow's blog.
Try to get these three to be still and not get the giggles! Mary and Judy seem to be either holding Theresa upright or tickling her, but the truth is we were all laughing, at what I can't even remember. It was that kind of day.

It was a memorable trip, even with the disappointment of not actually being able to get into the wilderness area as we wanted. We can save that for next year, I guess. This year's photos were perhaps just a tease as to what we might actually see when we visit again.

(I have to say, however, that I don't understand the US Forest Service. There was no sign to say why the Dolly Sods road was closed. There is nothing on the website either--Theresa checked that before planning to go there, because we knew the road did close in winter for a while--but never this late in the Spring. There were at least 20 disappointed people when we were there--one group of 4 was from Harrogate, England and had driven from Shapherdstown, WV to hike in the area. Can you imagine how they felt? I am sure there is a good reason for the closure, but a simple sign would have made people at least understand the situation.)