Having grown up in the Pacific Northwest where “old” often means anything built before 1950, I often find the human geography of West Virginia and near parts of neighboring states so fascinating. That people actually lived out here in established communities before a settlement in what is now Vancouver, British Columbia was a clearing in the woods is sort of incomprehensible to me. While that history is meaningful, odds are not as great that you’ll be off in the woods and discover foundations of an old community or some old industrial facility.
I remember when I was growing up in Surrey, BC I was so fascinated by the Anniedale School, the oldest school building in that district, and it was a one-room schoolhouse built in 1891 and serviced students in that capacity until 1954. Then there was the perennial field trip favorite, the Stewart Farm, which is a period piece demonstrating farming in the period from about 1890 to 1920.
In contrast, my home in West Virginia was built in the 1920s and it is not the oldest home in the neighborhood. The college I attended in Pittsburgh was established in 1869 and, while it was the first women’s college in Pennsylvania, the University of Pittsburgh only a few blocks away is 80+ years older. My husband’s family owns a “farm” outside of Huntington, WV and each spring the flowers planted numerous generations before sprout from the ground, illustrating where the home sites along the small creek must’ve been 150 years ago. “Old” and “time” have such different meaning in the ancient Appalachians.
To be fair, this adds an element of surprise on each carefully designed scenic drive, whether it is negotiating infrastructure based on ideas 100 to 200 years old, discovering a remnant of the past life of a location, or just patronizing the evolved versions of places that predate the community I grew up in substantially.
On this rainy, miserable, otherwise no-good day we decided to check in with some of our favorite local establishments and maybe pick up some antiques. That’s the other thing, in places so old and remote, antique stores are ubiquitous. There is a lot of old stuff to be had as the population has migrated in new directions.
We made our way down to U.S. Route 50, the Northwestern Turnpike, to head to Red House, Maryland. In Red House the old school is one of the only remaining structures. This brick structure, built in 1932, now houses an “antique” store. Quotation marks are used because not only does it feature antiques, but also more recent stuff that just doesn’t fit into any other category. Sometimes it is referred to as a “country mall,” which is a term I find more fitting. The school where the antique mall current exists is not the first in Red House, the original is about 40 years older and sits across U.S. Route 50 from the more recent school. The hamlet itself has been a place for travelers on the Northwestern Turnpike and Seneca Trail to dine and rest for a very, very long time, sitting at the crossroads. Many who headed west walked or rode through this very place, long before it was paved. The Northwestern Turnpike dates back to the late 1700s. The Seneca Trail has been a footpath for as long as humans have occupied the land, as Native Americans seem to have been using the trail for centuries.
Present day Red House School
Traveling north on the Seneca Trail brings you through Oakland, a historic railroad community, and past Deep Creek Lake, which is a resort area developed in the vicinity of the lake, which was created in the 1920s by the construction of a hydroelectric dam on a tributary of the Youghiogheny River (a river George Washington had some strong opinions about from a surveyor’s perspective). Some of the areas about the lake date back to that early development as the area was accessible by rail, though I am quite partial to the far newer Ledo Pizza. Ledo Pizza is a staunchly Maryland thing, the dough on their pizza sort of reminds me of flaky filo dough and it is an utter delight for your mouth.
North of Deep Creek, I-68 is the major route connecting Morgantown, WV and Cumberland, MD with civilization to the east, namely to Baltimore and Washington, DC. In extreme western Maryland and West Virginia it enables quick passage over an area where each person and animal had the rugged experience of establishing the best way through or over the mountains. The best route ended up having the new road constructed on top of it. That is what we call progress and while I can be as nostalgic as I want about it, I’m pretty grateful for I-68.
We hopped off of the highway in Bruceton Mills, a small community in Preston County, West Virginia. The Big Sandy Creek is the eastern boundary of the town and well over 100 years ago it was dammed as part of a mill structure that is long, long gone. Did I mention how incredible it is to me that some places had been developed and then have been declining since my native Vancouver was merely a clearing in the woods? Completely mind-blowing for history nerds from out west. With the miserable rain, the water was up on the creek so we stuck with our original plan of visiting their antique mall.
Despite an abundance of fascinating antiques, our haul consisted of a brick that had been manufactured in Morgantown. At one point Morgantown’s waterfront was dotted with tens of refractories and glass factories. Only one still prominently stands and it has largely become an incubator of small, artistic, cottage businesses. That’s perfectly fine, they have the most amazing tea shop at the Seneca Center.
Having taken the time to engage with the unique regional history, it was time to get back on the modern I-68 and enjoy the amenities of the modern day.
