The BackWoods Drifter

I have been known to use song titles for posts before. This title is from an old Led Zeppelin song and I think it fits rather well with the photos in this post.

It is impossible to look into my past and not see the time served as the town paper boy. The town in those days was Naoma, WV and it amounted to three country stores, a post office, a beer joint, and a gas station all within rock throwing distance of each other. To say Naoma was a one horse town would be overstating it a little. By the time you got on the horse on one side of town, you’d be getting back off on the other. Although the town isn’t very big, the paper route was huge. At least it was to me. The route consisted of somewhere in the neighborhood of 130 houses in the town of Naoma and parts of two adjoining hollows - Peachtree and Horse Creek.

I started in the paper delivering business with my brother. I love him to death but we used to fight like cats and dogs. For the first two years of delivering papers it seemed like he had me mad all the time. He is a couple years older than I am and now probably about 120lbs heavier and near a foot taller - but I can still take him. At any rate, two years into the route my brother went to the Army. I know we fought a lot but I sure missed him out delivering the newspaper.

Not long after taking on full responsibility of delivering the people their morning news I came to realize the positive side of being in this business alone and the negative - I now had twice as much money to spend and twice the work to earn it. I don’t care who you are, if your paycheck doubles, you are a happy camper. I didn’t mind the extra workload because it just kept me out longer and even then - I had a thinkin’ problem. So I started missing my brother less and spent my mornings delivering papers with two canine friends and thinking the whole time of things to spend my new found fortune on.

I have to tell you about Blackie and Brownie my canine friends. These dogs basically saved my paper route. I was up every morning at 4 o’clock and at my papers by 4:30. I say at my papers because I lived in Peachtree and the bundle of papers was delivered to Naoma. Taking shortcuts, it was about a mile from the house. Not long after my brother leaves for the Army I go to the papers one morning and there is a jet black Labrador Retriever and a brown Norwegian mix laying right at the papers. They lay right there and watch me roll the papers getting them ready for delivery. I talked to the dogs the whole time. I called them the simplest names I could come up with because I didn’t know who the dogs belong to but I was sure they had real names. So I just called them Blackie and Brownie.

For the next year or so those dogs were waiting by the papers every morning ready to follow me through the early morning neighborhoods. I was grateful for their company more times than you could imagine. They were always waiting for me and they always disappeared shortly before I got home. I never did know who the dogs belong to because never once did they give an indication of being home. They definitely had a home because they were simply beautiful dogs.

Now let’s get back to the money part, I was rolling in it. I could play pinball or space invaders and eat candy at Glen Dale’s store until I was sick and my fingers were about to fall off. After a bit of spending with reckless abandon, I got a little wiser and bought something with longer lasting benefits, or so I thought. I bought a new ten speed bike. What I didn’t take into consideration was the fact they weren’t really designed for off road use and I lived off road. That bike stayed new for about a month after which it was held together by a hope and a prayer.

Lesson learned from the bike purchase, my next big purchase was a used go cart. This thing had chrome wheels, flames down the side, and would be nothing but a blur going by. Or I should say this thing was covered in oil, was likely to be on fire, and was powered by a 3hp tiller motor. I would work on it for a solid week, spending all my money, just to have a few hours of fun on a weekend - which usually ended with me pushing the go cart back home and setting it up for the next weeks work. I spent a lot of mornings with two dogs delivering papers and wondering how I could get the chain to stay on once and for all or how to get those damn brakes to work. Being able to keep it running would have been nice as well.

I delivered papers starting with my brother while I was in Jr. High and continued by myself nearly all through high school. On school mornings I was up just like any other time delivering papers before I went to school. Mondays were the best because the papers were light and I could carry the whole route in one go. Which usually meant I got to go home and sleep a little before school. Sunday was the worst. The papers were always heavy and I had to make a couple of return trips to where the papers were delivered to me. All through the week I could deliver my route and be home before the sun came up. Not on Sunday, I was never home before it got daylight.

With my paper route, I was like the postman. It didn’t matter the weather, 7 days a week 365 days a year - I delivered the newspaper. Thinking back I believe my favorite time of the year was in the winter. Sometimes I would go out the door and find myself in new fallen snow up to my knees. I loved those times because everything appeared clean and new and even mysterious in the pre-dawn light. Myself and my canine friends were the first to break the surface of the new snow on many mornings.

My service as the paper boy also came to an end with a trip to the Army shortly to follow. But that is a story for another day. I can say this, another thing I thought about on those early morning walks, and that was finding a way to leave these hollows. That is where the Army came in to play. Now I spend all of my time away from the hollows anxious to return. Funny how that works.

These two deer were having a time in the field this morning. They are part of a pretty good size herd that stays close to the house. I woke up one morning and there were 11 of them bedded down within 50 feet of the back of my house. I’m glad they are comfortable here because I like having them around. A cup of coffee, a comfortable back porch, deer playing in the field… it just doesn’t get much better.

The next two photos I have added. When I first noticed the deer this morning they were kind of sneaking up on the tree on the right of the first photo. At the time I wasn’t sure what it was that had their curiosity piqued. Come to find out, there was a Shetland pony just on the other side of the fence. It was no wonder they were curious. I’m sure you don’t see many Shetland ponies in the life of a deer.

With myself knowing it was a Shetland pony the deer were curious of, that made this next photo just a little bit funny. The deer bringing up the rear was the most curious but neither one would get close enough to the pony to see what it was. So as they walked off - their curiosity unsatisfied, the second deer was listening to make sure whatever it was, it wasn’t going to sneak up behind them. I could just picture that little pony come charging through the tall grass after those deer. If that ever happens, I sure hope I have my camera.

The pony was no longer out by the time I thought to get a picture of it, but I’ll get one soon.

Growing up I used to spend a lot of time in the mountains. If hunting season wasn’t in I was hiking or senging (looking for ginseng). I especially enjoyed squirrel hunting. I remember a time all too well where you could judge how well someone has done in the squirrel season by how many squirrel tales were tied to the antennae of their truck.

At any rate I remember this one time a friend came to the house and got me to go hunting with him. I may have been around fourteen or fifteen at the time. We were headed towards a favorite hunting spot when we stopped on the ridgeline to take a breather and just have a look around. If we moved five feet left or right we could see the entire hollows opened up before us. It was the perfect place to watch for squirrels among the leaves on the ground and in the branches of the trees.

We were standing there and we hear something coming down the ridge toward us. You could tell it wasn’t very big because it sounded like it was swimming in the leaves. Both of us were standing there ready to meet whatever was coming head on. It turns out we weren’t prepared because what came into sight was a hilarious vision. Two fox pups were absolutely having the time of their life. The second one close on the heels of the first and nipping at the back of the legs of the first one.

These pups couldn’t have been a year old and still had the puppy look to them. The paid no more attention to us as if we were trees standing there. They did have the sense to dodge us and in just doing so they end up in a slightly bigger red and white ball as they go rolling over the ridge to our left. I thought it was probably the funniest damn thing I had seen to that point in the woods.

My friend and I both were laughing at the antics of the little fox pups as we watch them roll over the edge of the ridge. When we came to our senses both of us rushed to the edge to see the fox in the hollow. They were no where to be seen. It made no sense because we were close to the edge and looking over within seconds of the fox going over. They had apparently vanished. My friend asked me if fox climbed trees. At the time I thought that was a ridiculous idea and laughed in spite of myself. To me a fox climbing a tree would be like Old Blue climbing a tree. For some reason I could picture Old Blue scaling up the side of a hickory tree - that’s a pretty funny picture.

As I got older and thinking about the little fox pups, I tend to think the more likely reason for their apparent disappearing act is because we were in close proximity to the den and just didn’t know it. I would also hear stories later that made the idea of a fox in a tree not so far fetched. But until I see it with my own eyes - I’ll have to leave that one in the doubtful category.

Back then I considered the mountains a place of wonder and mystery. It was a whole other world where the laws of man counted for nothing. Fox pups still played in the woods in the same fashion as they have been since the dawn of time. I enjoyed trips to the mountains just for the solitude because in the mountains you could literally imagine yourself in any time in history. I miss the time when it seemed as if even the animals were more relaxed. Now you can go into huge areas in the mountains and you have no doubt what time you are in. The peace and quiet of the mountains takes on a whole new meaning. In a lot of places one would be lucky to hear a squirrel bark let alone watch two fox pups in careless play together. It is these simple things in life we will regret losing the most. Or, at least, I will.

I wanted to let my readers know of some decisions I have made. The first was to take the Bolt Mountain blog back out, dust it off and put it back in full operation. In making that decision I have also decided to keep the subject of mountaintop removal off the Bolt Mountain blog. I do have a page there with photos but I’m not going to talk about it there. As I said in a post on that blog, I have to have someplace to escape to sanity. I’ve also given the Bolt Mountain blog the tagline of The BackWoods Drifter to tie it together with this blog.

As far as this blog - I believe I have decided to flex my story telling muscles - what few of them there are. I can’t say the stories won’t be related to mountaintop removal as far as heritage and culture is concerned but I can say they will take a more indirect approach. As a resident hillbilly and a neighbor to the coal industry I see a lot missing from our culture today as compared to just 20 years ago. Plus I see all that we stand to lose. I’m going to tell you about it.

On another note - for those into SEO, the BWD Gallery hit a Google pagerank of 3 in it’s first indexing. I’m kind of curious why it ranked so high and being so young. But apparently Google loves photos. If I had to guess it would have something to do with all of the photos having titles, descriptions, and tags. I don’t know what the reason but it is obvious a photo gallery will get you on the good side of Google - in a hurry. So if you go there and like a photo or not - leave a comment. It’s so hard to get good interaction these days.

This old bridge crosses Big Coal River in Edwight, WV. I would be afraid to even guess how old it is. At one time it supported coal and logging trucks. Up the road behind me there used to be a sawmill. I remember years ago when it was a viable place of employment. People worked at the mill or in the mines. I helped tear the sawmill down in the mid 80’s.

Right behind me is this overgrown softball field.

As a young boy I would come here to watch my dad play softball. This started out as a coal miners softball field and was actually built by the coal company. If I’m not badly mistaken, and I might be, but I believe the coal company was Armco back in those days.

After the miners quit using it and I got into my teens, we started having friendly games here between different hollows. It was just a good time and all in good fun.

I hear no one is allowed there now because the field belongs to the coal industry. I’m not 100% sure about that so don’t quote me. It just seems to me that if kids were allowed to play ball on this field - they would be.

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The title of this post came with the fact the bridge is over Big Coal River. About a mile upstream is Goals Coal, a subsidiary of Massey Energy. From this point forward the river winds it’s way through the heart of coal country. A Bridge Over Troubled Water seemed fitting.

While in Whitesville a couple of days ago I had the opportunity to visit another old cemetery. This one is located on the side of the mountain between Whitesville and Sylvester.

This site was full of anonymity. Each burial site marked with a stone. Someone had been kind enough to mark a couple of the sites with wooden crosses. The crosses are only a few years old. I believe these particular crosses held a different meaning when they were put here than the meaning a cross is normally meant to portray. They are here to let someone know there is a grave here.

This site sits within yards of an overland coal belt and likewise from a train yard.

An overland belt is used to take coal over and through the mountains (from a mine to a prep plant in this case) by belt when trucking the coal isn’t feasible.

I get into sites like the old graveyard and I really can’t help but think about the history buried there. These are people buried here and they did something in their life. I often wonder what that something was. My friend Mountainsaver was with me and he said there used to be a tombstone here that had the name B.D. White on it. The town of Whitesville was said to be founded by D.B. White. A coincidence maybe? I’m beginning to not believe in coincidences. I did wonder what happened to the tombstone because there was none but rocks there now.

I do believe I have talked about pokeweed before on the blog but since I was literally walking through it yesterday I felt the need to write about it again and show it to you.

I remember many times out hunting this plant with my grandma, both of them actually. Personally I have only ever been fond of one type of greens and that is spinach. Although poke greens are said to taste like spinach. I know quite a few people are quite fond of them.

Like a lot of wild plants - poke contains a toxin and has to be prepared a specific way in order to remove it. If you want to know a lot more about poke greens you can check out - Wikipedia - Pokeweed.

Also like a lot of plants this one has many uses. Even more than most. Did you know - the Declaration of Independence was written using fermented pokeberry juice? I sure didn’t. The plant grows to a height of from 5 to 10 feet and has purple berries on it once it matures.

Anyway, if you plan to cook it, definitely read up on it some before you do because the toxin can do nasty stuff to you.

I haven’t really found any particular one area to find the pokeweed. It seems to just grow anywhere. Once you know what it looks like - it is hard to miss.

Adding these photos of the mature pokeberry bush . Thanks Matthew.

The picture in this post has it all. Horses, meadows, a barn, a creek, trees, mountains, a valley fill, and the accused culprit of the valley fill - power lines.

The active valley fill is in Clear Fork, WV. The site is actually a part of the Kayford Mountain MTR site. Believe me when I tell you the photo does not do the size of this fill justice. It is huge. The whole face of the site is nothing but gravel - large and small. When they are finished filling this valley they will come back and spray hydro-seed on it and call it reclaimed. They can get by with that particular atrocity because the hydro-seed would flourish just as well on the power pole or the horse for that matter.

Without getting into a big description of hydro-seed, suffice it to say - it has been termed grass seed on steroids.

This is the new face of West Virginia. It is definitely - Almost Heaven, West Virginia.

The other day when I wrote the post The BWD and MTR I made a mis-statement in that post that actually completely changed the meaning of what I was trying to get at. This comment “As far as the grassroots and environmental organizations around here, I can create a big enough stir without your help - thank you very much.” The word your in that comment was supposed to be their. It was directed at the people emailing me and wasn’t meant to put off those organizations. One small word changed the tone of the entire post and that was unintentional. So basically if you are working to stop MTR you have an ally and not an enemy. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I was a little upset when I wrote that post. I actually didn’t even realize my mistake until receiving an email today concerning the post. The post has been changed to reflect what I meant to say.