Back to the New River: Thurmond, WV

48 this morning, chilly and clear after a rainy start to the day yesterday. Cool temps predicted all week.

We delivered a set of Fire-King tulip bowls to a buyer in Charleston yesterday--it was much better than shipping those expensive bowls (250.00+), and we got to visit ReStore at the same time, so a win-win for us and the really nice guy who bought the bowls.

Since we were an hour south of home, we decided to take another road trip, back to the New River Gorge and to a place I have wanted to see for years, the abandoned railroad town of Thurmond.

Well, Thurmond isn't exactly abandoned: there are 5 permanent residents there, and several privately owned but unoccupied homes. Still, the area that used to be the main business area is vacant. The state park service took over the area some years back, slowly developing it into a tourist attraction. Then last year the federal government added the New River Gorge as the newest national park, which encompasses Thurmond.

I had thought that since it was cool, cloudy and rainy, there wouldn't be many people in Thurmond, but even so there were quite a few visitors. There were kayakers, bikers, hikers, and we even saw one man fly-fishing. The ranger on duty seemed to think that every visitor knew nothing about the state, which was kind of funny as he tried to tell Larry about mining, since Larry grew up in a coal camp. The ranger had a few details wrong; mining was the reason for the railroad to have been built in the rugged gorge, and when it died out, so did the need for the town.

To say the area is beautiful doesn't begin to do it justice. Here's a partial photo journal of our day; I will probably be posting more, as I took about 300 pictures.

The road follows the tracks. I'd love to be on this section when a train comes.

The road narrows and narrows as it snakes its way to the town. There are plenty of lay-bys for cars to pass each other, fortunately.

The road is also bordered most of the way by the prettiest stream. Rocks and water, so beautiful.

And then the bridge into town. One lane, side-by-side with the railroad trestle.

Below, the New River, home of probably the wildest Class VI rapids on the East Coast.

Once across the bridge and parked, we immediately ventured onto the trestle. I have been having some dizziness due to sinus and allergy  issues, but I held the cables and occasionally Larry so I could get out there.

Far below, the river.

The ranger came out and ran everyone off the trestle, since a coal train was on the way.

Waiting for the train.

And here it comes. This one was at least 200 cars, with two engines in the center to help push and pull the heavy load.

The large concrete tower in the above photos held coal and water for refueling trains back in the steam days.

These pulley wheels on the outside of the coal tower fascinated me. What were they for? Pulling up loads of coal, maybe?

This little one was too cute. Alissa, her name was, and she kept grinning at me until I had to hide behind her parents so they could take a photo of her looking at them. Then she thought I was playing peek-a-boo. There was no danger at this point, of course, the train was long gone.

One of the empty buildings in the town.

And yet another.

It must have been a prosperous place, to merit such a nice bank building.

The whole of the commercial block, all empty these days.

We finally walked back to the big hotel building, which I forgot to photograph, of course. 

I hated to leave but the day was waning, and we had a long drive ahead. These falls were along the road to the town too; I waited for the homeward journey to stop and take photos. 

Dunloup Falls

We stopped in Fayetteville for a late lunch/early dinner. Both of us were starving, and we'd heard good things about the Cathedral Cafe and Book Store, so that's where we went. I have to admit, I was underwhelmed. It was quite noisy, not the quaint environment I envisioned. It was also very busy, which I am always glad to see for small businesses like this, but the cost of two sandwiches, a hard cider and one glass of wine was over 40.00. That's a bit much for our budget; it was good but not superb, and I doubt we'll return. Although...the coffee I got to go was absolutely delicious. But not included in that 40.00 tab. 

We took the slow road home, winding across central West Virginia. The black line in the center shows roughly the route we took, all two-lane or smaller, except for the trip down to Charleston.

It was just about dark by the time we got home, and I have to admit our own road looked pretty good to us.

We will certainly go back to Thurmond, and spend a much longer day. Perhaps in the spring? The ranger said about 12 trains come through every day, and you know that would keep me quite happy. In spring there will be wildflowers to photograph, and Larry wants to fish...and I want to sit on one of those old porches and write. It's a place to inspire imagination, and words.

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

Trains

64, cloudy and humid this morning, a possible shower might be in the offing this afternoon.

I have a thing about trains, I must admit. Our visit to Cass brought that love back full force, and I completely enjoyed watching the trains come and go while we were there. 

And the trains reminded me of a childhood memory.

When I was 5 we moved to Manassas, Virginia. Our house was about 200 yards from the railway tracks, possibly not even that far. I loved watching the trains go by, counting the cars and wondering about the people who got to ride them, and especially envied those in the dining cars. What did they eat? Was there a waiter, like on the TV shows I'd seen? Where were these people going? At night the cars would be lit up and we could see the people sitting in their seats, reading or talking. It was like a moving picture show to my young and fertile mind. I imagined svelte women stylishly dressed, men in dark suits and white shirts, with little mustaches. 

Once, when I was 12 or maybe 13, I can't recall, I got to ride the train from Manassas to Lynchburg. I'd been particularly difficult that summer. Hormonal changes had turned me into just a nasty mess of moods, and my mother seriously considered sending me off to my Aunt Dodo in Canada. So it must have been bad. Instead of Canada, the local priest offered to send me to a girls' summer camp at a convent called Villa Nova, in Lynchburg. And I would go by train.

It was beyond exciting, although terrifying too. I'd never been away from home for two whole weeks, and certainly not by myself. Usually if I went anywhere it was to my uncle's house while Mom had a baby, and one or more of my sisters went too. I dressed up for the train in my best Sunday dress and shoes, and I even had a suitcase. I remember how upset my mother was; she was crying and clinging to my father, but I was so scared I couldn't think about how my mother felt. I later learned that she'd had a miscarriage that summer and my shenanigans certainly didn't help her recover.

The train was not what I imagined. Maybe first class was all that I dreamed of, but I wasn't in first class. The train ride was bumpy and noisy, the seats hard and uncomfortable. Not that I minded--I was on a train! I had a packed lunch to eat, but I was so tempted by the man who came through carrying a tray of candy, gum and cigarettes. Since I had no money, all I could do was look. 

The most surprising thing to me was the bathroom. When I flushed, the bottom of the toilet opened, and all the waste went right out onto the ground! I was stunned. There was the gravel railbed rushing by, right there under the toilet. I flushed again to be sure my eyes had told the truth. As I made my way back to my seat, I was envisioning miles of railroad tracks strewn with toilet paper. In actuality I suppose the heat from the passing train burned it up, but even so it was a shocking discovery. Fortunately, trains have changed a bit over the years.

The time at Villa Nova was good for me. I learned a lot about my Catholic religion, and met girls from all over Virginia and other states. I was terribly homesick at first but soon got into the rhythm of the camp. Having breakfast and other meals served to us was a treat, and I was always curious about what we would have. While others complained about the food, I thought it was terrific. Dessert every day? Yes Ma'am! We played hard, and at the end of the two weeks we presented a skits we'd developed, along with songs and there were some girls who had talents to share, like piano, baton-twirling, etc. I had nothing to offer and was too shy anyway. 

I felt like a seasoned traveler when I got on the train to go home. Most of the girls had family that came and got them, and I think I was the only one traveling by train. I came home a different girl, calmer and happier, and thrilled to be back with my family.

But that train. I think it was worth being so badly behaved and being sent away just to ride that train.

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

Unlucky Tunnel #13

Last tunnel post, I promise!

We finally got on the right track and found the last tunnel we were looking for, tunnel #13, or the Bond's Creek Tunnel. It was possible to drive almost right up to it, and after walking 3 miles or so the wrng way (but finding the cool abandoned tunnel in the process) I was ready for easy.


The road bordered the trail for a good distance, right through the almost abandoned town of Cornwallis--which was named, of course for the Revolutionary War British general by that name. Why he was memorialized in a small Virginia town (we weren't West Virginia yet when this little town was formed, probably in the very early 1860's) I don't know.

One of several abandoned homes along the trail

You can see by the doorlight windowthat this was once a very nice house.

A chimney testifies to what was once home to someone long ago.

I believe this might be what's left of a water tower.

Someone has started renovating this old house.

 Built in 1853-1854, the Bond's Creek tunnel is in remarkably good condition.

This tunnel was one of the tunnels improved in the early 1960's by B&O in the clearances project to make it taller and wider. At 352 feet it is not very long, but it does have a slight curve. It is approached by crossing a bridge over Bond's Creek.

North tunnel portal

I call this unlucky tunnel 13 because of a tragedy that took place there about 60 years ago.

On Memorial Day, May 31, 1956, the B&O westbound National Limited passenger train passed through the tunnel, and as it came around the curve in the tunnel found that a rock slide was partially blocking the tracks. There was no time to stop. The train slammed into the rock pile as it emerged from Tunnel #13. The engine fell off the tracks and fell off the side of the bridge into Bond's Creek Forty-five people were injured in the crash, and the engineer, Joseph C. Riley, and the fireman, Paul R. Hooten, died in the wreckage. Among the injured were members of the train crew, railroad employees and 29 passengers.

From North Bed Rail Trail brochure

Another train had passed through the tunnel only a hour or so before, and the tracks were clear then. How quickly disaster can strike.

Today the tunnel is a serene place, filled with birdsong and the sound of water rippling in the nearby Hughes River.

There is a shelter just outside the tunnel, a perfect place to picnic. We have plans to go back and do just that--Larry can fish in the river and I can write in the shelter, and we'll have a picnic too. The day we were there it was quiet with no other visitors, but I imagine in summer it might be a busy place, with bikes, walkers, and horses passing by.

That was the last of our adventures on the North Bend Rail trail for this trip, but we plan to go back and see the other 5 tunnels sometime and learn their history as well. Such fascinating stuff, and it's free for the finding!

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