Rich Creek Disappointment

One popular aspect of geocaching is seeking out the oldest caches in certain areas. Caching is a relatively young hobby and some caches have very short lives. That said, those have stood the test of time, surviving ten years or more are considered really unique gems in the geocaching community. Besides, just given how large I’ve seen the community get since I began caching in 2008, I can’t imagine how different the game looks now from its beginnings in 2000. For example, did those who hid some of the caches we consider virtually sacred now realize what they were doing when they hid an ammo can in a remote stump? I’m guessing probably not.

I have found the oldest geocache in Pennsylvania (State Game Lands #109) and the District of Columbia (Capitol View), as well as the oldest in many counties. It is cool to visit these caches. What I love most about visiting old caches is seeing their log books. Even if a log is brief, just a name and date, it is so wild to me to think of the people who found this thing in the woods 1, 5, 10, or more years ago.

So with this in mind, bitmapped and I had planned to log the oldest geocache in West Virginia, Rich Creek Riches. We did a lot of research prior to heading down to Logan County, about a three hour drive to the south: scouring maps, reading previous logs, learning about the trail system the cache was on, and the like. Despite the natural popularity of this, the oldest cache in West Virginia, we ran into a problem: we couldn’t find a legal way to approach the cache without an ATV and a permit, even though others were admitting to playing dumb and trespassing onto the Hatfield McCoy Trails in their street vehicles. But because so many people were finding the cache, we decided to go down to Logan County and check the situation out for ourselves and get some information in person (besides, the coal fields are a surprisingly fun and interesting place for a day trip).

We decided that our first stop would be the visitors’ center for the Hatfield McCoy Trails off of U.S. Route 119 (Corridor G) just south of Danville. We talked with the staff member there and immediately learned a few very important rules about use of the Hatfield McCoy Trails:

• All users (hikers, ATV/UTV riders, absolutely everyone) must wear a helmet at all times
• All users must have a permit
• Users/vehicles that aren’t permitted are trespassing

Lacking helmets and a desire to hike the four-mile round trip on this tropical feeling day from the nearest non-trail road after dropping $78 on permits, we scrapped the idea. But you really wouldn’t gather that there’d be all of these logistical issues from a geocache description that reads:

The stash can be reached by ATV via the Hatfield-McCoy Trail system or on foot. You do not need climbing gear but if you walk it be prepared to burn a few calories.

The closest town is Gilbert, WV 25621

4 or 5 prizes

The difficulty rating on this cache is a 3 and the terrain rating is a 1 (a 1 is supposed to be handicap accessible according to the current guidelines).

More than anything, what this indicates is how much the game has changed but also how much it has not changed. Cache descriptions need to be updated! This cache was placed four months after the Hatfield-McCoy Trails opened, who knew if it would become so successful? Perhaps the rules have changed? Perhaps the specific routing of the Rockhouse trail system has slightly changed since the placement? Though others have also explained that terrain ratings have slowly become easier, what is now a 3 for terrain may have been a 2 or even a 1.5 at the outset of the hobby.

Caches that are frozen in time are interesting relics providing insights into the evolution of the game, but as the ultimately disappointing effort to find West Virginia’s oldest cache played out for us, they can also be deeply frustrating. Should this geocache be archived? I’m not sure. Let me know if you’ve got any feelings on the matter. To me, the most important thing is that I don’t have a court date and I’m free to hike again this weekend!

Following the Hatfield and McCoy Feud

I have never understood the fascination with the Hatfield and McCoy feud. The entire situation seemed fueled by members of two groups consistently trying to prove their worth but who were really on more of a race to the bottom, not unlike the violence and irrational behavior between rival gangs of now. I will even be the first to confess, I never saw the Hatfield and McCoy miniseries on the History Channel because I am that disinterested and, truthfully, I just can’t stand Kevin Costner (fun fact: both Kevin Costner and I briefly attended, but did not graduate, from Villa Park High School in Villa Park, California).

Nonetheless, when the Hatfield and McCoy Geo Trail was published we eagerly accepted the challenge to be among the first 400 to complete the Geo Trail and receive a geocoin to commemorate the accomplishment. I can’t remember what time we left Morgantown to set out for the coalfields of West Virginia and Kentucky, but when we arrived at our first stop, parked behind a church bus from Mississippi, the rain was pouring and I was a little concerned about how successful we would be.

Our initiation to the geotrail involved a steep trudge up the muddy and rocky driveway to the old cemetery where Hatfield patriarch, “Devil” Anse Hatfield, was buried. Despite the perception of seclusion in the narrow holler a group of about 20 were looking on the grave monument while a local historian described Devil Anse. The rain seemed only appropriate because this man seemed miserable.

Into Matewan we stopped at a historical marker that described the feud. Across the river from Matewan was a site far more dismal. Three of the McCoy boys had been returned alive as promised, but because Ellison Hatfield had succumbed to wounds inflicted by a McCoy, the boys were tied to a tree and fifty shots later none had a hope of survival. It was easy to imagine such horrific events on such a dismal day.

Despite the hot feud, romance between Johnse Hatfield and Roseanna McCoy somehow bloomed. The two ran off, with Roseanne even living under Devil Anse’s roof for a time. But Johnse wasn’t going to settle down and left his fling pregnant and unable to return home. Roseanna found quarters with her aunt. On the other hand, the baby survived less than a year and is buried in the cemetery across the road and up the hill from her aunt’s home. The real kicker in this is that Johnse eventually married Roseanna’s 15-year-old  cousin. The historical marker at the foot of the stairs to the historic cemetery reads like the summary of a daytime talkshow.

The skies began to clear as we approached the home site of Randall McCoy. The only evidence of the home that was there is the hand-dug well, which is maintained by the current owner of the property. The current property owner has generously decided that the site belongs to everyone and welcomes guests to park in his driveway and walk over to the well and imagine the area in the years just after the Civil War. Knowing the story well, the property owner added dimension by informing us the McCoy boys who had been murdered were buried on the hillside across the holler so that Mrs. McCoy could see her sons each day. It was such a bucolic place.

Perplexing for me is the feud began over a pig. Times were hard then, but I still can’t imagine a pig instigating a blood feud. But a pig showed up on Hatfield property so they claimed ownership. So did the McCoys. A jury of six Hatfields and six McCoys decided that the pig belonged to the Hatfields. Selkirk McCoy sided with the Hatfields. The case was decided by “Preacher Anse” Hatfield. Preacher Anse’s cabin has been restored and rests below the Hatfield Family Cemetery. In this cemetery is a washstand used by the Hatfields. Feud history aside, it is an interesting relic of Appalachian life at that time.

We continued on the trail toward Pikeville, Kentucky. With six geocaches (of 15) remaining, we sought the grave of “Bad” Frank Philips. His grave is deep in a holler and involved gravel roads narrowly hemmed in between trailers and a creek. Upon arrival it is clear this cemetery has only recently seen efforts of maintenance and improvement. Some of the steps to the burial sites are uneven and loose. Frank’s wife, Nancy McCoy (her first husband, as indicated above, was Johnse Hatfield), is buried here, but so are a few others. Particularly startling was a primitive grave stone from 1992. It appeared to be made of a small square of cement with the last name and year of death written in it by hand with a stick. Times were hard for the Hatfield and McCoys, and the times continue to be very hard in eastern Kentucky.

The last five sites toured us around Pikeville, Kentucky. Numerous times we caught ourselves saying how nice the city looked and how it exceeded our expectations. The university and medical school look to be modern, quality institutions and many of the neighborhoods are populated with beautiful homes.

We finished the trail at the Dils Cemetery. Here many of the McCoy family members are buried, including patriarch Randolph McCoy. It seemed appropriate because we began with the burial place of Devil Anse. The feud was officially ended in 1891. The silence was evident in each of the cemeteries we visited. While many of the descendants of the Hatfields and McCoys moved on, some remain in the area and add dimension to the tale.

As we finished up at the cemetery one of the two people who took the effort to place the caches came up the hill. Our timing was perfect. Before we left Pikeville we were able to obtain our geocoins, evidence we completed this historical challenge!

I still don’t really understand the allure of the feud. It seems like a relic from a certain era of American history, but it’s a story that could be told just as easily today. In fact, I think it’s a story you can see on daytime TV. The differences between the Hatfields and the McCoys still separate us today and the results of brutality toward one another are no less damaging than they were then.

We returned to Morgantown after 2:00am. Exhausted, but thrilled.