Craig County, Virginia

I try to be home for shabbat at Tree of Life here in Morgantown. I also try to get away once a month for two or three days to a different county within three hundred miles of here, any state, in alphabetical order. This hobby has been hampered by more and more responsibilities thrust on me (or taken on voluntarily) as a Morgantown City Councilor. I'm also getting over my fourth illness since Thanksgiving, and we are planning a much-needed and long-delayed trip to California to see friends and family at the end of the month.

 I've managed to see eighty-two counties in the months since we moved here in July 2012, and I'm nothing if not persistent. The eighty-third, scheduled for this month, was Craig County, Virginia, in the mountains near Roanoke and on the border of West Virginia. Usually, I schedule a three-day trip to a place more than two hundred miles from Morgantown. But Craig County has just over five thousand people, and its county seat and largest place, New Castle, has a population of 153. The others live out in the country somewhere.

I felt a need to get away. I love Joe and our cat and our temple and the people who go there, but sometimes I need to be off by myself, to not have to care for or listen to anyone, to not have to worry about the leaky drain in the upstairs sink or what I forgot to buy at the grocery store.

So I left Friday and planned to be back Saturday, taking back roads, increasing the time to New Castle by maybe a half hour, but reducing the mileage to 216, courthouse to courthouse. The only places I could find to stay overnight in Craig County were country rooming houses with a family or a couple who rent rooms or have a spare cabin on their property. I'm trying to get away, not meet new people, and in a county that voted seventy-eight per cent for the current President, I don't want to talk to or stay with strangers who might make me uncomfortable talking about my life.

So I booked the "Usual Chain" near Roanoke Airport, about twenty-one miles out of New Castle. It's an older (1960s?) resort-style place with rooms facing a garden with a swimming pool. I was delighted that there was a sign at the registration desk that they wouldn't rent to anyone who lived within thirty miles. I've been places like this where one person rents a room and invites sixty friends and family to drink by the pool on a Friday night. That didn't happen here.

The back roads yesterday (Friday) took me through Pocahontas County, one of the most rural and beautiful counties in West Virginia. I drove past the famous Green Bank Observatory, saw the sign for Snowshoe Resort, watched the shifting clouds and rain sprinkles, the passing parade of mountains, the new green of the trees and the purple and white wildflowers. I was near the Greenbrier Hotel, owned by our absentee Governor.

I brought a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple with me for lunch and I had lots of water. I saw a convenience store/restaurant/gas station on the road about noon and thought to get some iced tea. I was about to reach for a Diet Coke, there being only sweet tea in bottles, when I asked the proprietress if they had "unsweet" and she offered to get me a cup  from the fountain drinks, and even asked me if I wanted "Sweet 'n' Low." I declined that, but I was touched by her kindness.

The last stretch of the trip into New Castle is through Jefferson National Forest, over mountains on a slow, twisty road. It was sunny and warm and scenic enough to get me to turn off the CD player and open the windows.

New Castle has basically two streets downtown, each about three blocks long. There is. a grand Courthouse, with the obligatory statue of a Confederate soldier out front, a small community store, and a larger market (not super), two convenience store/gas stations that will make you a pizza, an ancient hotel, now a museum run by the local historical society, some restored log cabins, a new building with a dentist's office and a Subway, a post office, city office building and a library.

I visited the library, small and crammed with books and DVDs. There is a sign outside that says "Visitor Information" so I came in. The librarian gave me a street map of the county. I asked about the Appalachian Trail, which passes through the county. It's far and off bad roads from New Castle, but she pointed out a parking lot along 311, the main road from I-64 to New Castle and then to Roanoke. That part of the trail is in Roanoke County, just over the line, so I was doubtful. I noted that the librarian had a pack of Marlboro Golds on her desk. I bought a VHS tape of "Midnight Cowboy, " which Joe has never seen, and a paperback copy of John Irving's The Hotel New Hampshire from their "Library Friends" sale. It was 4 P.M. and 84 F., so I thought I would check into the hotel, sleep for an hour, and maybe come back to town for pizza or a sub for dinner, then hike a bit when it was cooler. I had trouble following the directions to the hotel and wandered through Salem, ending up sleeping from 5;45-6:30, once I located the hotel. There were expensive restaurants nearby, which didn't interest me, and a place called "Country Cookin'." I decided to go there. You order a meat dish and a side, then they have a salad bar with other sides and dessert. Too many desserts. I was good at first. I had a piece of salmon with a dry baked potato, and just a little macaroni and cheese and a lot of salad. Then I went overboard on the desserts. Feeling like I should exercise, I checked the time of sunset (8:18) and decided to head out to the part of the Appalachian Trail just inside Roanoke County. It was farther than I remembered and I pulled into the parking lot just at eight. A board at the trailhead warned about how steep the trail is, the need for water and good shoes, how easy it is to get lost. I only had a few minutes before dark, so I went ahead without all that. There were two groups of campers out in the park; one had a fire. Mountain laurel was blooming. I panted up a not-too-steep incline, crossed a bridge, and came to a stream. From there, the trail switched back and up a steep hill. That's where I turned back.

I got lost again driving back to the hotel. Luckily, I have a smartphone and Google maps. I watched a bit of "Meet The Fockers" a silly movie that I saw when it came out because Barbra Streisand and Dustin Hoffman play a married couple. I turned it off after a half-hour. Normally I would have checked emails or Facebook, but it was Shabbat, and lately, social media has become just another responsibility, so I didn't look at anything.

Google Maps said it was 267 miles from the hotel home. Going back to New Castle would cut the mileage to 250, and add very little to the time. It was 74 F. when I left Roanoke, but it soon started to rain, and things cooled off into the 50s as the rain came down and the elevation went up. I stopped for gas in New Castle  (cheaper than in West Virginia) and I was surprised that I didn't have to pay before pumping. I asked the woman inside at the convenience store and she said "I know just about everyone around here, and I know their car, so no one can get away with anything." While I was there, two men came in together, one pushing a stroller with a baby in it. I'm not going to speculate about that.

I left the motel just before nine, and I was home by three this afternoon. I went on I-64, US 19 and I-79, faster, a little longer, but less time than the way I came yesterday. Less interesting, too. The weather was much cooler, mostly in the 50s, with periods of severe rainstorms. I was in our newer Honda, a pleasure to drive.

I was glad to get away, and I don't mind driving. I need to make more time for myself, to not devote so much effort to social media. Like everyone else, I fret about climate change, and worry that I'm not doing enough, especially as much as I drive. I take a reusable water bottle with me, I don't use plastic straws, our car runs relatively clean and gets over 40 mpg on the road. That's what I can do. I'm an American, and I like road trips and Diet Coke. That's just who I am.

I plan to write three more blog posts: one about our friend Art, who died the night before Passover, about the disturbing Morgantown City Council election, which I won by a hefty margin, and one about my April trip to Coshocton County, Ohio. Hopefully, I'll find time to get them done.

Craig County Courthouse, with the obligatory Confederate statue.

Inscription on the statue. "His Race"?

Old Hotel, now a museum and headquarters of the Craig County Historical Society

Me on the Appalachian Trail. The camera corrected for how dark it actually was.

Overlook on Highway 311 on the way in to New Castle, Friday

Victorian House in New Castle, Saturday morning

Main St., New Castle

Log cabins, restored, Court St., New Castle

Craig County Library. The librarian told me she's hoping for a new building

Protest signs against Mountain Valley pipeline, proposed by Dominion Energy

Buchanan County, Virginia

I always thought I had moved to Appalachia when Joe and I came to Morgantown in 2012. Now I know better. The main road through Buchanan County, Virginia is U.S. 460 between Bluefield, West Virginia and Pikevile, Kentucky. The road is four lanes and parallels Lavisa Fork River southeast of Grundy. In town, 460 has been relocated to the side of a blasted-out mountain, as the former road through downtown flooded one time too many. Buchanan County has lost more than a third of its population since the 1980 census.

Coal is still king here. Monstrous-looking coal plants line 460 in the eastern part of the county, and giant trucks carrying unidentifiable equipment crowd the roads. People live in the stream beds. The rest of the terrain is steep.

Many of the county's schools have closed. One middle school is now a law school run by the state, and there is a pharmacy school in an office park. The paper today had an article about the opening of a four-year optometry school.

Grundy is the seat of Buchanan County. There is a tiny Main Street, protected by flood walls and even a gate to close off the access to it from relocated US 460 and State Road 83. which runs across the county perpendicular to 460. Both roads are designated east-west, although 460 is more north-south in this county. Across from old downtown is a new two-story Wal-Mart, which backs on a blasted-out mountainside. There are other stores in that complex.

Vansant is a Census-Defined Place (CDP), the suburb just south of Grundy. It has the fast-food places and the big grocery store.  From Grundy, it is less than twenty miles to Pike County, Kentucky and Mercer County, West Virginia.

People here were friendly, nodding "hello" to me even though I don't know them. Their accent is not like in West Virginia. They use a long "E" for short "I, pronouncing "his" like "he's." There is a drawl to all this. Despite the drop in population, there are 23,000 or so people, more than in many West Virginia counties. Fancy houses line 83 east of Grundy.

I had dinner last night at a pizza and subs place next to the motel, lunch today in the big grocery store in Vansant at the salad bar, which was fully half desserts. I got a fried chicken breast and a biscuit to complement my healthy salad just to spite my recently unclogged arteries. There was an eating area in the store, and people were socializing. Even the people passing through all seemed to know someone standing around chatting.

There is a Grundy Plaza in Vansant. This may be the former warehouse that Wikipedia says the downtown Grundy stores moved to after the 1977 flood. I dined at the Chinese buffet. Young men were eating there in groups, more clean-cut than the men I saw during the day. Perhaps they were law students, whose semester starts next week. The food at the buffet was bad - everything fried, no plain white rice. The waitress was friendly, touching my arm several times.

I stayed at the Comfort Inn in Grundy on Business 460, which I think was the original route before the flooding. The hotel is across from the river, and while that side of the street is empty, there may have been shops there at one time. The new 460 was above us, cut into the mountain.

The hotel was crowded. I booked the last single king-bed room Sunday for Tuesday. I thought maybe it was the family of law school students, but it appeared to be working people, overwhelmingly men, miners, railroad people (Norfolk and Southern Railroad has a huge yard north of Grundy) and people in trucks from utility companies. The hotel is more luxurious than most Comfort Inns.

When I checked in, I asked the clerk where to go,and he said the main tourist attraction was Breaks Interstate Park, 20 miles from Grundy on the Kentucky border. The main part of the park is in Virginia, but probably not in this county. I may have cheated on my system, going into the next countybut I am unrepentant.  The motel, cabins, visitors center and beach were closed for the winter.

People had said it wouldn't be warmer than Morgantown. January in Grundy is usually one degree warmer than Morgantown, and three degrees warmer in the afternoon. It was 21 F. this morning and 42 F. in the afternoon with bright southern sunshine. That's why I saved the park for afternoon.

I asked the hotel breakfast lady why the screen on the television said schools were opening late in many surrounding counties. She, like other people around here didn't understand what I said. Maybe it's my accent. She said it's because of the icy roads when it's cold. Morgantown schools don't open late for 20 degree weather. It has to be 0 in the morning. I did note in the morning that it was sunny in many places, but in the shadow of the mountains, dark and cold. There was snow throughout the area on the ground in the places that are always shady.

The congressional district here covers most counties in southwest Virginia. I think more people live in fifteen square mile Alexandria, near Washington, D.C., than in eight counties of southwest Virginia. Today's paper out of Tazewell, the next county southeast of here, says that a retired postal worker is challenging the local Republican congressman as a "Bernie Sanders Democrat." I've said that about my state delegate candidacy.

I don't think people here are as conservative as I expected. They seem to be friendly, hard-working people, many of them in unions, religious, judging by the number of churches I saw today, and taking active measures to save their area from oblivion. In addition to many active coal mines, I saw abandoned mine equipment and what looked to me like reclaimed mining land- the only places I saw that were flat and treeless.

It's a beautiful place, Buchanan County, and I wish the people luck and blessings in adapting to change here.

Here are the pictures.

Main St., Grundy. This is all of it.

Historic side of the Buchanan County Courthouse, early 20th century, Grundy

flood wall and the Wal-Mart cut into a mountain, Grundy

U.S. Post Office, c. 1960, Main St., Grundy

Former Middle School, now a law college, Grundy

Wells Fargo Bank Building, Vansant

restored and moved pioneer cabin, 1838, Breaks Interstate Park

Laurel Lake, Breaks Interstate Park

The Towers geological formation, Breaks Interstate Park, unfortunately, looking into the sun