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FALL 2016 ISSUE 02 / VOL. 01
route, first heading east along U. S. 460 to Rich Creek, Virginia. North on U. S. 219 brought me to Lewisburg, West Virginia, where I picked up U. S. 60 and turned west. If you pull out a map( a good one, please), mark West Virginia routes 20, 41 and 39. These will provide another day’ s worth of riding entertainment and enough curves to satisfy any canyon carver.
A turn south on U. S. Route 19 brought me to the New River Gorge Bridge, one of the highest and longest found anywhere. Fayetteville, located along the south rim of the gorge, is a funky little outpost filled with river runners and small cafés run by an eclectic mix of old timers and beatnik imports. I stopped by the Cathedral Café for a quick lunch and a slice of their famous carrot cake. Located in a converted church, the café features soaring ceilings and stained glass windows, book-lined walls and hand-painted tables. Oh, and Wi-Fi. Glancing around at the mostly youthful and studious-looking clientele, I expected a poetry slam to break out at any moment.
I decided it was time to move on before the couplets and pentameters started flying, so I picked up U. S. 19 south to Glen Jean. A brown road sign marks the turn for the New River Historic District. A turn north on State Route 16 / 61 then leads to County Road 25, the road to Thurmond. It’ s a ride of 10 miles on a narrow strip of pavement, passing through haphazard settlements, over creeks and across active railroad lines.
Thurmond, one of dozens of settlements that popped up along the gorge in the late 1800s, is today the dictionary definition of“ once thriving.” A virtual ghost town. Both coal and timber drew businesses and residents to the area and, as a strategic commerce center, Thurmond prospered more than most. Within a few years of settlement, Thurmond boasted multiple hotels, banks and dozens of businesses. Thurmond permitted no illicit activities within its borders, but across the way, a different set of rules applied. Any activity you might care to pursue could be found on the other side of the river, including a poker game that ran continuously for 14 years at the Dun Glen Hotel.
By the mid’ 30s, the town began a rapid and irreversible decline as the Great Depression amplified the effects of diminishing timber harvests and coal shipments. By 1984, what remained was purchased and preserved by the National Park Service. Looking through the empty store windows and standing at the front of the Thurmond National Bank, I couldn’ t help but wonder about the fortunes and fates of the people who once lived here. In just 50 years, a town was born, prospered and died. Like Derby, it had barely begun life before it all ended.
Headed toward Marlinton for the night, I retraced my steps to State Route 61 and followed it to routes 41 and 39. Or so I thought. My mind was still thinking about Thurmond, wondering what my own hometown might look like in 50 or 100 years. In a while, I realized nothing looked familiar and I had little idea where I was. I was lost. But that’ s OK, I decided. That’ s just where I wanted to find myself.
I parked outside an old apple storage shed near Markham, Virginia. Orchards still play an important role in the Appalachians.