Riding the Dawkins Line — Life Downstream

The Dawkins Line Rail Trail is an 18-mile-long rail trail in Johnson and Magoffin counties in southeastern Kentucky. It is longest rail trail in Kentucky. It is currently a multi-use trail that follows the railroad constructed to support the operations of the Dawkins Lumber Company as the Big Sandy and Kentucky River Railroad in 1912. After changing hands a number of times over the years, 36 miles of track were abandoned by the R.J. Corman Railroad Group in 2004. Two years after abandonment, the Kentucky General Assembly allocated funds to begin converting the right-of-way into a rail trail, with the project moving forward in 2011. Presently, the trail runs 18 miles, but is eventually expected to be extended for the entire 36 miles of abandoned right-of-way.

Aiming to spend more time on my bike and wanting to visit the in-laws in Huntington, West Virginia, my husband and I put the bikes in the back of the truck and decided to challenge the prediction of rain and head down to the Jane Beshear Trail Head near Salyersville, Kentucky. We planned to start here and bike to the Gun Creek Tunnel to sate my husband’s dream to see every single railroad tunnel.

It was cool and the weather was not looking favorable, the skies were quite foreboding as we journeyed down U.S. Route 23 from Catlettsburg, Kentucky to Paintsville, and then over to the trailhead off of U.S. Route 460. The rain was holding out.

We parked at the Jane Beshear Trail Head and thought it looked quite nice. There is plentiful parking. Facilities to help folks get on and off of their horses. There are even bathrooms… which were locked tight. It was a little unnerving to find this nice trailhead entirely abandoned with locked pit toilets. We persevered.

We started heading toward what we thought was the tunnel, but realized in short order that we were moving in the wrong direction. In that mile or so we traveled before realizing we were headed in the wrong direction we enjoyed some light rain, stunning views of working farms, and some areas with aggregate that was really testing my calves. Almost back to where we started, a dog came out of nowhere and was quite menacing. I’m incredibly afraid of most dogs, so I was already feeling a little out of place, and this really upset dog was not helping me feel any more at ease.

Back to where we began. Back to the trailhead. Back to the locked bathrooms. I hated that the bathrooms were locked.

We now found ourselves biking through Royalton. Royalton is little more than a Dollar General, a convenience store, and a lot of Confederate flags. The houses, churches, and ruins abutting the trail heading beyond Royalton are a study in Appalachian poverty. I was both glad to see them trying to develop the rail trail and frustrated that the environment was so bleak and unwelcoming. Despite how bleak the built environment was, the natural beauty of this area was impossible to miss. I am grateful for the experience.

About two miles into our journey the rain stated. However, we believed we could not be that far from the tunnel. We decided to keep going. The grade got steeper (logging railroads always pushed the boundaries in terms of grade). The rain fell harder and harder. In a fit of frustration, soaked to the bone, I started belting out You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive, my only audience my husband and those resting in the number of country cemeteries we passed.

Legs burning, soaked to the bone, and full of all kinds frustration, we arrived at the Gun Creek Tunnel. The Gun Creek Tunnel is not terribly impressive as railroad tunnels go, but I am certain that when it finally came into view I had never been happier to see a tunnel in my life. My husband and I breezed through the tunnel, felt like we were starting to dry off from the downpour, and felt that we had accomplished something great.

The best part? It was all downhill back to the car! Though shortly after leaving the tunnel, there was a sign that suggested trail users menaced by dogs should call the Magoffin County Sheriff’s Department. Well that’s too little too late, I thought.

The rain stopped as we coasted the miles back to the truck. Mile by mile, we got a little drier and decided we had accomplished something great and discovered a complicated, beautiful, and pained place.

Locked bathrooms and horse facilities at the Jane Beshear Trail Head near Royalton, Kentucky