Christmas Eve Adventure

One of my favorite things to do is hop in my car and explore. About once a week, or at least two or three times each month, my husband hop in the car for an adventure. Weather was looking good here in West Virginia during the day of December 24, so we took the opportunity to visit some of the more remote areas within an hour or two of Morgantown.

Traveling from Morgantown, WV our first stop was Cool Spring Park (description from Roadside America). Cool Springs is a general store with a lunch counter, though during CoVID-19 they are not allowing indoor dining, and a graveyard of industrial objects from bygone days to explore (during the warmer months). The variety of products is impressive and sometimes entertaining. The hot chocolate on a cool day is was perfect. Cool Springs is also a helpful gas stop, gas stations are fewer and further between on U.S. Route 50.

From Cool Springs Park, we took toward the town of Eglon to find a geocache in the cemetery. The geocache, My Little Black Bird, was placed in celebration of Maison Sharp, a child who brought joy to his family but could not stay with us on earth for very long.

Eglon Community Cemetery

From Eglon we made our way to the towns of Thomas and Davis, along the way we stopped to admire the windmills along U.S. Route 219. Another interesting place in this area is Fairfax Stone State Park, a surveyor’s marker and boundary stone used in the 1700s to settle a dispute over land, it marks the boundary between Maryland and West Virginia and it is the origin of the North Branch of the Potomac River.

Windmills lining the ridge U.S. Route 219 follows through the Potomac Highlands

About 6 miles down the road we arrived in Thomas. The Gal-ivanter has a great blog post on what to see and do on a perfect trip to Thomas. Thomas is jam packed with cute little shops and cafes. My favorites are the Bloom gallery and Thomasyard. We were hoping to find a geocache on part of the Blackwater Canyon Trail, but the snow had other plans.

Onward to Davis! Like Thomas, Davis has an adorable downtown area filled with cute shops and cafes, though I am devastated that Hellbender Burritos closed, so many folks will never know some of the best burritos I’ve ever eaten (and I know a thing or two about good burritos after living in California). After our experience trying to find the geocache on the trail in Thomas, we should have known better. However, we were enticed to the Heart of the Highlands Trail, which was also too snowy for searching. No problem, I would love an excuse to come back, even better if I can come back with my bike!

Our next stop was Mt. Storm Lake. This lake is interesting because the water tends to stay warmer than it would naturally because it cools a power plant. It is enormously popular for scuba diving, though you would not know that on a gusty December 24. On the bright side, we found the geocache and the cleanest portajohn I have ever seen.

The Tacocat is prepared for anything, including a very slushy lakeshore

At this point, my shoes were completely soaked through. It was quite wet and slushy and I cursed at myself for skipping the rubber boots, but the truck was warm and we only had one more planned stop. We headed to the intersection of U.S. Route 50 and Table Rock Rd in Garrett County, Maryland. Maryland has one of the most comprehensive networks of traffic cameras in the country, including one at this remote outpost (to explore more of Maryland’s traffic cameras and other metrics, check out CHART).

Being Christmas Eve, and feeling a little bummed about not being able to see either of our families, Chris sent the link to the cam to his mom and I did the same with my dad. My dad captured the following picture from the video feed:

It was as close as we could get to our loved ones. Facetime might be easier, but this was a lot more fun and capped off our adventure on a high note. Avoiding others can be difficult, but there are ways to make it a lot more fun.

Finding Old Roads: Elk River Drive

I often wonder what transportation looked like in the United States and Canada 50 to 100 years ago. It is important for me to understand and figure out where we’re coming from so I can make a meaningful contribution to where we are going. A very mild December enabled Chris and I to deviate from the usual drive between his parents in Huntington and our home, three hours northeast, which normally takes three hours and spans only two roads, two Interstate highways. But as recently as the late 1970s it was not quite so simple. Chris’s mom recalls harrowing two-lane rural roads she had to take to visit her husband while he was studying at the medical school in Morgantown.

We re-drew our route to maximize the scenery during daylight hours and then planned to hurry home once the sun was working its way down. We set out on U.S. Route 60 east to Charleston and then planned to trace U.S. Route 119 to W.V. Route 4, following the Elk River into Gassaway and then heading over to Sutton and Flatwoods. From Flatwoods we figured it’d be time to drive the last 90 miles on the interstate.

When Chris and I lived in Huntington, U.S. Route 60 was our favorite route to Charleston. Very unobtrusively it offers insight into life along the road for as long as people have lived in the region. The street names, often ending in “turnpike” suggest the importance of the rolling hills of the area for the infancy of the transportation network in the region. Old and disused schools and even an old hospital for disabled children all fall so close to what was once the true main street of this corridor of West Virginia. More recently, 1950s and 1960s era motels are in varying condition. Some have been converted into homes and others have been rebuilt, or at least repainted, on the strip in places like St. Albans and Jefferson.

In Charleston we traded in 60 for U.S. Route 119, which heads north out of Charleston as Pennsylvania Ave, probably as an indication of where this road will ultimately take you. From Charleston to Clendenin the route traces the western banks of the Elk River. The Elk River had recent fame when a poorly maintained tank of coal washing fluid leaked into the river and poisoned the water supply for 300,000 West Virginians encompassing parts of nine counties. Driving the route between Charleston and Clendenin, it is clear that it was once a “working” river, perhaps comparable with the broader and better known rivers further north, like the Monongahela and the Ohio, based on the rusted out hulks of industry dotting both banks.

In Clendenin we figured the opportunities to get a good meal were likely going to sparse, if they existed at all. Knowing it’d be about 2 hours to get into the Gassaway-Sutton-Flatwoods area, which is ripe with places to eat, we stopped at a Gino’s for a pubwich. The food was good but the place was full of characters. We ate with purpose before hitting the road. Places like Clendenin may have once been nice but now seem unkempt and uninviting to outsiders.

Clendenin also offers travelers some choice when heading north. U.S. Route 119 takes a 90-degree left turn and heads toward Spencer and Glenville, while W.V. Route 4 begins here and follows the Elk River all of the way into Sutton, where the road deviates from the river and heads north toward its terminus in Rock Cave. The mountainous landscape of West Virginia disguises it, but the Elk River is incredibly windy. A careful look at a map shows a road that is constantly meandering and making grand loops where a few bridges might suffice. Though there was a time where if the land enabled it, it was more efficient financially to follow the river than try to construct a bridge. And with the development of I-79 never more than a few miles away, there has never been a great need to upgrade W.V. Route 4 as a through route.

On Route 4 you travel through towns that largely seem forgotten by time, dotted with country churches, dirt roads donning the surnames of local families, and the odd bar in such disrepair that it is unclear whether it is still in operation. Procious, Maysel, Ivydale, Duck, Strange Creek, and Frametown all seem as if they’d make perfectly nice rural river retreats. There is not a traffic signal to be found until you make it into Gassaway.

The entire time we traveled on our bank of the Elk River, we hypothesized that a railroad had traveled the other side of the river at some point. Indeed, we were correct. In Gassaway we were treated to the sight of an active, though sleepy, rail yard of the old Coal and Coke Railway. Gassaway acted as the boundary between the Charleston and Elkins division of this railroad so it was also a logical place to install substantial infrastructure, which included a passenger depot and maintenance shops. Today it is served by the Elk River Railroad, which is an abbreviated version of the original road running between Gassaway and Gilmer.

From Gassaway we headed toward Flatwoods, past the Braxton County Medical Center and an on-ramp for I-79. It was beginning to get dark, as it does so early at the end of December, but we were treated to one more surprise. The road connects Sutton with Flatwoods and it is dotted with trailers, cabins, and motels. One of the motels, it appeared, had a recent spell of bad luck when a large tree collapsed on top of what appeared to be the main office. Though, unless my internet sleuthing skills are failing me, it is unclear if that specific motel was even operating at the time. While somewhat unnerving to have noticed, life in West Virginia often seems to be about the tenuous relationship between man and nature.

We made it into Flatwoods only a few moments later. Flatwoods is home to a somewhat unusual outlet mall, though there are two amazing things there: a bulk foods store and a Fiestaware outlet. After short stops at each followed by some Kentucky Fried Chicken at a location that had recently been on fire on our last visit to town, we decided that we really were finished with the scenic route and hurried home along I-79.

Conquering the Pacific Northwest: Roads Bending to the Wilderness

Making tracks for Golden, where we had hotel reservations, we backtracked toward British Columbia. Along the Trans-Canada Highway in the Banff National Park area immense efforts have been made to ensure the safety of the wildlife in the areas around the highway as well as to expedite human movement. This has been accomplished in many ways, but impossible to miss are the 50-meter wide wildlife overpasses crossing above the highway. While some may argue it is charming to come face to face with a moose or goats on the side of the highway, it poses risks to both animal and human safety. If you’re interested in how interactions between wildlife and vehicles have been mitigated in the region, check out this report on the twinning of the TCH in Banff.

Another highlight of this stretch of the TCH is Castle Mountain, also known as Mount Eisenhower. Castle Mountain was named because its castle-like appearance, though from 1946 through 1979 the mountain was known as Mount Eisenhower in honor of his contributions as a general in World War II. Political pressure is ultimately what led to the restoration of the original name, even though mountains had been named for British generals. However, one of the towers on the mountain still retains the Eisenhower name.

Castle Mountain from the Trans Canada Highway

Into British Columbia we challenged the notorious Kicking Horse Pass. This pass will likely never see twinning, as the section through Banff has, due to the extreme geometry of the pass and the laws of physics. Despite the treacherousness of the pass it was determined the best route for the Canadian Pacific Railway to span the Continental Divide in the 1880s. The grades of the railroad through the pass were as great as 4.5-percent, the steepest in North America. A set of spiral tunnels (link to a YouTube video) was constructed and then opened in 1909 to help mitigate the severity of the pass and a viewpoint is accessible from the highway where we were wowed by a long freight train doing gymnastics in and out of the tunnels. Naturally, it was on one of the hairpin curves of a most treacherous section of the highway we had our closest encounter with wildlife. An entire family of mountain goats had found a place of their fancy on a steep hillside on a narrow shoulder of the highway. They literally stopped traffic!

A family of goats, even a little baby up in the left-hand side chowing down on some brush

Despite the efforts to improve safety on the pass, as my dad could attest to the state of the road over several decades before, there are still opportunities to test the constitution of even the best drivers. While on a downgrade we were unable to see signage indicating the end of a passing lane due to the density of semi-trucks. The lane ending caught us by surprise and we briefly traveled in the opposing lane in order to safely pass a truck, acknowledging that with such a steep grade on the road cutting off a semi is a potentially deadly decision.

Yet we made it into Golden in one piece. The highway passed high above the valley, surrounded by newer businesses and chains, but true Golden was in the valley of the swift-moving Kicking Horse River. Electing to stay at another local motel we found ourselves in the valley. We explored the town and found their park, which featured an impressive covered pedestrian bridge. The Kicking Horse Pedestrian Bridge is the longest free-standing timber frame bridge in Canada and was built by volunteers from around the world!

After a hearty dinner at the Pantry, a family dining chain, we turned toward the hotel where we attempted to catch our breath and relax after taking in some of the most impressive sights in the world along with excellent examples of how our will to build roads must bend to nature. Despite being halfway through the intense road trip, there were still two more days to go. Although by the end of the next day, we would be back in familiar territory—if I didn’t injure myself too badly.

Lessons from Grad School: Work Doesn’t Evaporate

Part 1

Sometimes I believe grad school has taught me more about things having nothing to do with transportation than those related to transportation. Some of these lessons, however, have significantly shaped how I look at very common aspects of my life. My primary task as a grad student is to perform research, this is my job. But no matter how fast I work or how many hours I work, there will always be more research and related tasks to accomplish.

It is fundamental that I dedicate substantial quantities of my time and effort to research, coursework, writing, and preparing for life after graduate school. But there will never be a time I am without work to do. That said, I have begun to learn how to effectively take time to step back from work and even find ways to release the stress that it causes. Believe it or not, sometimes it is very challenging to study death every day, especially when the majority of the death and injury you’re studying is from people who did nothing other than try and live their lives normally.

Weekends are not time for passive languishing. Weekends are time to fight back. Weekends are when the light comes shining in.

7:30am comes perfectly as the sun is at the right angle to catch all of the shades of green in Sylvester’s eyes. He’s hungry, he wants some attention, and he doesn’t want me to waste the day. He purrs until I get out bed and is underfoot until his food dish is piled high, giving me the opportunity to throw on a t-shirt and yoga pants and sneak out the door with Chris.

Deep Creek Lake is about an hour away from Morgantown, West Virginia near Oakland, Maryland. It is a gorgeous lake that is a popular summer vacation spot for folks in the region. The lake is created by a dam and has long, narrow coves splintering off of the very busy main channel. After a few weekends getting reacquainted with kayaking and teaching Chris the basics, we’re ready for a bigger lake (no horsepower limit here!). We rented kayaks from High Mountain Sports and with their recommendations on nice places to paddle, we’re off.

Despite it still being early, not even 10am, the lake is alive with traffic. Pontoon boats, speedboats, jetskis, and even a few other kayaks are everywhere, along with a pretty stiff breeze. Step one is crossing the main channel of the lake in one piece. The first few minutes were a challenge, but once we mastered the movement of the water, the waves were like a carnival ride. As I paddled fiercely, not wanting to dilly-dally in the middle of the busy lake the stress was evaporating. I left it in the main channel of the lake. We paddled up Cherry Creek Cove, getting unique views of lovely vacation homes and the wonderful flora of western Maryland.

The wind seemed to pick up as we approached the main channel heading back to the marina. But it was time to head back, we powered across the lake. It seemed to take forever as the wind and the wake were beating us up. In this situation, I couldn’t think about issues I’m having with my data or the specifications of my regression models, rather I had to focus on my kayak and me. Every time a large boat would pass I’d spin the kayak to take the wake head on and lift my arms in the air to keep the paddle from catching the water. It was a blast.

But this mental vacation day is hardly over. Next time: great food and great finds in Maryland and West Virginia!

Take a Back Road: Morgantown – Washington – Wheeling

Part 4

Cameron takes the traveler by surprise. It is a much larger community than one may expect. It has the footprint and sprawl of a city three or four times its present size. This is due in part from the terrain, the city is tightly hemmed into several hollers of Appalachian hills and also as a relic to a time when Cameron was a greater city than it is now. Its well-preserved downtown, while largely vacant, is like traveling through time. Other civic efforts, like fixing up the old rail depot (despite the fact there are no longer any tracks) are promises that this is one town that will not lose its connection to history. It is also worth noting their public pool was a make-work project from the Great Depression, but it still welcomes the public each summer. It has a unique, beach-style design that is not particularly common.

From Cameron the trip through the hills continues. Approaching the town of Hundred, remnants of a railroad come closer and closer to the road. An old tunnel, with a portal reading “Soles,” peers over to U.S. Route 250. While sealed, the portal has survived the elements well. Things like this left behind make me crave to know more of the area history.

Hundred itself is a sleepy town that epitomizes Americana. A welcoming main street with rows of picture perfect white homes spurring off, coupled with poor cell phone service at best, and the chimes of the church bell carried on the cool air was an almost surreal experience. In Hundred we picked up the Hundred Cache on the East Wetzel Rail Trail, a trail whose length is only about 1.5 miles. It roughly travels from one end of town to the other. But it is a valiant effort based on the success of other rail trails in the state. Pleasantly, the trail follows the creek through town as it gurgles a pleasant song. It was only a short walk, but helped recharge our batteries as the pizza from Wheeling was wearing us out.

Just beyond Hundred we picked up WV Route 7, the final leg before returning home. Slaloming through natural gas pad sites we sought one final cache. Much of the day’s drive showcased the past, but the Bob Beach Bridge, while situated at the entrance to the Mason-Dixon Historical Park, is a view to the future. On a prior visit to this bridge I encountered a park volunteer who said that they had wanted an old-fashioned covered bridge. When the Department of Transportation refused, they countered with the offer for the bridge we see today. The Bob Beach Bridge is a fiber-reinforced, glue-laminated timber arch bridge with a fiber-reinforced polymer deck. Intending to showcase this unique structure our friend and frequent road trip partner, Brian, placed this geocache. With the hillside sparsely populated by briars this time of year we made the find quickly.

Despite an amazing day of adventure, we breathed a sigh of relief and finished the drive into Morgantown. Visions of future trips danced through our minds. I always think it is ideal when you’re eager to return somewhere.

Bath County: Finding the Homestead

Outside of the immediate area, Virginia is often thought of synonymously with Washington, DC or, during the summertime, as having some excellent beaches on the Atlantic. But in the west-central part of the state is a unique place that takes guests into a time past. Bath County is one of relatively few on the east coast that has never been widely settled. Bath is a county without a single incorporated city or town nor a single traffic light. There are no scars of heavy industry nor has the population of this county ever topped 10,000. What Bath County does have is stunning natural beauty and phenomena, which has fueled it’s economy.

The Homestead Resort, a National Historical Landmark

The most notable landmark of Bath County is the Homestead Resort. The Homestead pre-dates the founding of the United States and in the hey-day of America’s “Grand Resorts,” few could compete with the service and the grandeur of this summer hideaway. The presence of natural springs, perceived to be of great medicinal benefits, and the altitude made Bath County the ideal location for the resort, despite the challenges of transportation once posed by the Allegheny Mountains. And unlike some of the other mineral springs resorts still in existence, visitors are still able to take a seat next to and slip their feet into the hot springs.

Seats to slip your feet into springs at the Homestead

Many of the “Grand Resorts” have been victims of the times, whether through improved transportation, changing tastes in how to spend vacation time, or failure to invest in the resort to strike the right balance between modern tastes and classical elegance, yet the Homestead nobly rests in the village of Hot Springs, solidering these changes. Approaching Hot Springs from the north on U.S. Route 220, you round a curve less than a half mile from town, and are greeted by the immense structure of the main resort building.

Touring the inside of the resort, it is unclear what the future holds for the resort. It is a unique combination of classic elegance from the turn of the 20^th century as well as mid-century ideas of what turn of the 20^th century décor looked like (think Dorothy Draper/Modern Baroque). While the overwhelming feeling from the resort was one of absolute grandeur, the times have been taking a toll on the resort for the reasons stated. If I may make a personal appeal, if you have the opportunity to visit Hot Springs, do stop at the Homestead. Explore the resort and if you see fit, spend some money there. Living, breathing National Historical Landmarks are harder and harder to find and are worth supporting, even if it’s just a cup of hot cocoa or a keychain.

Ballroom in the Garden Wing of the Homestead

It is clear the effect this area has on it’s natives. Only a few miles south of Hot Springs is Ashwood, home of legendary golfer Sam Snead. Despite traveling extensively as a professional golfer, all roads always led back to the Allegheny Mountains. If he was not in the Hot Springs area, he was a mere 50 miles away working as the golf pro at the Greenbrier Resort. His love of the region is not unique to him though, many people find themselves returning to the region year after year to refuel their spirits in the unrivaled natural beauty and solitude.