Showing posts with label Wetzel County. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wetzel County. Show all posts

Sunday, August 19, 2012

The Second Sunday Drive, Wetzel County WV


According to the state history sign at the Wetzel/Tyler County line, Wetzel County was “formed in 1846 from Tyler.  Named for Lewis Wetzel, the great frontiersman who, with his brothers during Indian days, ranged the settlements from their home in Marshall County throughout northern West Virginia.”    This sign tells us two things, both indirectly.  First is that Wetzel County was one of the original eighteen counties that voted to separate from Virginia during the War Between the States.  The second is that Lewis Wetzel, that “great frontiersman,” was in today’s terms a psychopathic serial killer who made it his life’s goal to exterminate the Native American race.   Of course for 18th and 19th century European-Americans, that would make him a hero.  (See James P. Pierce’s biography of Wetzel, “Lewis Wetzel, Dark Hero of the Ohio,” by clicking on the link.



The Wetzel County Courthouse
New Martinsville, WV

The New Martinsville City Hall

The Wetzel County Chamber of Commerce
New Martinsville, WV

Ruins
Littleton, WV

19 - Exchange Bank - 06
Littleton, WV
Littleton United Methodist Church
Littleton, WV

Hundred, West Virginia

Hundred United Methodist Church

Off U.S. Highway 250

Wetzel County Farm

According to the 2010 U.S. Census, Wetzel County has 16,583 residents, of whom 5,366 live in the county seat, New Martinsville.  The county is 98.8% white.  Less than half the county residents are church-goers, a fact which surprised me in West-By-Gawd-Virginia, but of those, twenty-seven percent belong to the United Methodist Church, the largest single denomination in the county.  Average size of Wetzel County farm is 146 acres, and the average value of agricultural products sold per farm is $2,137.  Since the average total farm production expenses per farm amount to $4,173, farming would seem to be a losing proposition here.  The largest industry in the county is the chemical industry with Bayer Material Science and PPG Industries both being members of the Chamber of Commerce.

Informative Web Sites:
Wetzel County
US Census Bureau
City-Data.com
Wetzel County Chamber of Commerce

Saturday, August 18, 2012

Second Sunday Drive, Day Trip One

Little Left of Littleton
Taken 8/15/2012 in Littleton, West Virginia

We'll rise up early with the sun
To ride the bus while everyone is yawning
And the day is young
in morning Morgantown.
--"Morning, Morgantown," music and lyrics by Joni Mitchell

I woke to foggy skies on Wednesday, August 15th, but had already decided to head east and visit those West Virginia counties just south of the Mason-Dixon Line.  Most of us, I suspect, think of the Mason-Dixon line as the boundary between the north and the south, but originally (that is in the 1760s), Surveyors Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon were brought from England to resolve a dispute between the colonies of Pennsylvania and Maryland regarding where their mutual border lay.  Since what became Delaware was also considered part of William Penn’s charter, the surveyed line included a north-south section marking the border between Maryland and Delaware as well.  Even though Maryland does not extend as far westward as Pennsylvania, the line continued west, marking the boundary between Pennsylvania and what was then the western section of Virginia.  There is a fascinating Wikipedia article on the Mason-Dixon Line, its history and its evolving meaning in American life at this site on Wikipedia.


Roseland Resort Is actually in southern Marshall County, part of West Virginia’s northern panhandle, and lies north of that fabled line, so to start my day trip, I had to cross the county west to east on narrow mountain roads, reaching U.S. Highway 250 at Bellton.  My parents had tales of traveling these roads, but until you experience it yourself, you have no idea what backroad Appalachian driving can be.  I left Roseland at 8 a.m. and noted the Saab’s odometer.  At 9 a.m., at which point I still had not reached my first planned stop, I looked at the odometer again.  In one hour I had driven less than twenty miles—and I only stopped three times to take photos.

As most of my driving would be on U.S. Highway 250 or U.S. Highway 50, I tuned Sirius XM to Fifties on 5, and bopped along with music that I grew up with.  (I have to admit that most of the songs they play on Fifties on 5 are songs I think of as ‘60s music, but my memory could be faulty when it comes to time lines.  The best song I heard by far was Little Richard singing “I Feel Pretty” from West Side Story.  And, no, he didn’t change anything at all.  I don’t think that ever before have I heard a man sing that song—not even in drag shows.

I admit to not having studied my map closely, for the first county line I crossed took me from Marshall County into Wetzel County, just as if I were driving down West Virginia Highway 2 along the Ohio River.  Wetzel County’s seat is New Martinsville, an Ohio River community where Ron and I go to do our shopping, and have the occasional meal.  I hadn’t realized that it stretched the width of the panhandle and beyond.  The county line between Marshall and Wetzel counties is that same Mason-Dixon line.  Finally I was in the South.  ;-)

Driving in a southeasterly direction on 250, I passed the ruins of what had been a very large and very ornate building.  The brick ruins reached three stories high and were separated from the roadway by a mere concrete barrier, similar to what Montana uses to separate east bound from west bound lanes on Interstate 90.  In other words, there was nothing to protect passing cars from falling bricks.  Of course I had to pull off and grab my camera.  There was no sign indicating what the building had been, nor any indication on the building itself, unlike its next door neighbor which had an engraved granite block reading 19-Exchange Bank-06.  This was what remained of downtown Littleton, West Virginia.  Oh there were a few houses, and a couple of shops.  There was even a United Methodist Church that I had to photograph.  A couple of men standing along the road watched as I stopped, started, turned around, backed up on the highway, in short, I have no doubt they were commenting on every move this stranger made in their small town.



The Hamilton Round Barn, built in 1912, now operating as a museum
Mannington, West Virginia

Crossing into Marion County, I stopped in Mannington to photograph, what else, the Methodist Church.  I also captured the Mannington School, St Patrick’s Catholic Church, the Hamilton Round Barn, and a very busy bee visiting a white Rose of Sharon.  The Hamilton Round Barn was built originally as a dairy barn, but today is a museum that opens to the public, if I read their sign correctly, only on Sundays between the hours of 1:30 and 4:00 p.m.  They probably don’t have a large payroll.
On down the highway, I turned off 250 to photograph the Barrackville Covered Bridge and quickly found myself in Fairmont, Marion County’s seat.  Those of you who follow my Montana Counties blog, “Glory of the West,” know that I had to grab the courthouse in Fairmont. A short side trip north took me to Prickett’s Fort State Park, and then it was south and east on West Virginia 310 to cross into Taylor County.

One of the cascades in Valley Falls State Park
Near Grafton, West Virginia

One of my photographic goals for Taylor County was Valley Falls State Park, located on the Taylor/Marion County line, where the Tygart Valley River flows over a series of flagstone plateaus.  I had directed Nancy to take me there, using the Point of Interest setting on my Nav System, but as I flew by a small sign directing me to turn off 310, Nancy said I had several miles yet to go before reaching the park.  I soon found myself in Grafton, Taylor County's seat, and home of the International Mother's Day Shrine, AKA Andrews Methodist Episcopal Church.  While in Grafton, I also grabbed the courthouse before following Nancy's directions on to the park.  Should I point out that there were highway signs showing the way, but I ignored them in deference to what my Nav System was telling me to do.  I time, the route Nancy chose for me turned into a one-lane dirt road, and finally a blocked passage.  While Nancy nagged at me to turn right (and presumably drive through the barricades), I parked the car and walked to the edge of the river from where I was able to get a few good views of the falls and the campers happily enjoying the day on the other side of the river.  Of course there was no bridge for me to cross.

Asking Nancy to get me to another photographic goal, Tygart Lake State Park, I drove to Pruntyville, Taylor County's original seat, then on to Webster, home of Anna Jarvis who first celebrated Mother's Day and who agitated to get the rest of us to celebrate it as well, and finally into a thick forest, again on a dirt road, with no lake or park in view.  I was beginning to distrust Nancy's directions.

Unmarked Church
Arthurdale, West Virginia

Giving up on my goals for Taylor County, I continued east into Preston County.  Preston County is unusual in West Virginia in that its northern and eastern borders are straight lines forming a ninety-degree angle.  North of Preston County is Pennsylvania (that Mason-Dixon line again), and east is Maryland.  Nancy told me to get on the George Washington Highway which it turns out is U.S. 50, which I then left to drive north on West Virginia 92.  Nearing Reedsville, I passed a sign for Arthurdale.  I didn't know the history of the town, but have since learned that Arthurdale was a New Deal experiment where nearly destitute Appalachian miners and subsistence farmers would be given a new home and five acres of land.  The land came from a Mr. Arthur who lost his land to the Federal Government in lieu of paying taxes.  This was one of Eleanor Roosevelt's pet projects.  There is a fascinating first-person account of moving into Arthurdale in the current (Summer 2012) issue of Goldenseal Magazine.

I continued on to Reedsville, Kingwood (Preston County's seat), Terra Alta where I saw I sign announcing that I was exactly one half mile above sea level--not a big whoop to someone who lives at an even higher elevation and considers 3,000 feet to be low--and Aurora.  I was trying to get a view of the highest point in Maryland, which is more easily seen from West Virginia.

Back on the George Washington Highway, I crossed into Maryland, traversing Backbone Mountain at 3,095 feet, and in no time at all I was back in West Virginia, this time in Grant County, western most of the state's eastern panhandle counties.  U.S. 50 is only ten miles long in Maryland, but I had reached the easternmost point of my planned day trip and was running out of time.  Heading north on Maryland 560, I drove to Oakland, the Garrett County seat, stopping to photograph the courthouse and the old Baltimore & Ohio railroad station.  I hoped to get to Swallow Falls State Park, but once again, Nancy failed me, and when I finally did find the park, I felt it was much too late to get out of the car and hike to the falls.  Putting my plans on hold until another day, I drove north to Friendsville where I filled the Saab's tank, then west on Interstate 68 back into West Virginia.

I got to Morgantown, seat of Monongalia County and home of West Virginia University, not in the morning, but closer to evening rush hour.  This is not a town to be lost in at rush hour.  I couldn't find the courthouse, and ended up driving in circles, passing one sidewalk sandwich vendor three times before I was finally able to get out of town.  I drove north on Interstate 79, crossing into Pennsylvania's Greene County.  At Waynesburg, I left the Interstate to return to narrow mountain roads, crossing back into West Virginia north of the town of Cameron, Marshall County.  From here it was just a hop, skip and a jump back to Roseland, a trek that took only forty-five minutes.  I arrived back at Ron's trailer at 9:00 p.m., 13 hours and 349 miles after I left.  Average speed, including Interstates:  27 mph.

Backbone Mountain, one point of which is the highest place in Maryland
Taken north of Gorman, Maryland

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

The Second Sunday Drive, Week Two

The Pool at Roseland--no naked men at this time of the morning

There is no question that our lives today are stress-filled.  We try to cram as much as possible into our days, filling our lives with activities and worried that we won’t accomplish all that we set out to do.  I, personally, have never had a problem curling up with a book and getting lost in it, but even I stress out from time to time telling myself that I have to do this or that, and then beating myself up because I forgot one of the self-imposed agenda items.

Kevin could see that my stress meter was reaching the critical zone when he suggested that I pick up the car and head east, instead of returning home immediately.  After all, I’m retired and have no real obligations at this point in my life.  And I had been saying that I wanted to get back to West Virginia for a visit.  As Kevin and I are in the process of reinventing our lives, we discussed buying a fifth-wheel camper trailer or possibly a large motor home and spending as much as six months on the road.  We even looked at a number of these modern day Conestoga wagons, but in the end decided that traveling with five small dogs was, to put it mildly, insane.  That plus the fact that with gas prices what they are, filling the tank of a pickup capable of towing such a unit would cost more than flying to a resort somewhere and paying for a motel.  We would never have been able to visit Miami Beach, as one example, if it meant pulling a trailer and finding someplace to park it.  As we continued our discussion, I said that I wanted two trips a year, minimum.  One might be a cruise, or a trip to Puerto Vallarta or France, or some other destination, but one trip every year would be to West Virginia.  My family is important to me, and I’ve been cut off from them for far too long.

Ya Gotta Take Time to Smell the Roses--or whatever

But even the prospect of a relaxing time with Ron, Sharon, and any others who might turn up, did not keep me from over-planning things.  As it turned out, I didn’t really spend any time exploring Wisconsin.  All I really saw of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is the view you see driving down U.S. Highway 2, which is to say trees with the occasional glimpse of Lake Michigan on your right.  My drive Sunday across the Lower Peninsula was even worse, as there was nothing to see other than trees on the route Nancy chose for me.  And even though I said I was going to Saugatuck, I never entered that city’s limits.  Never saw the (in)famous dunes or the artsy-fartsy shops that follow gay gentrification of a community.  If Campit Resort, nice as it is, lies in any proximity to the water, you couldn’t prove it by me.  No, I was on a schedule, and that schedule meant “Drive, damn it!  Drive!”  

The five hours spent on southwestern Michigan’s back roads Monday afternoon did not help my mood, and kept me from another agenda item.  Ever since I met my cousin Vicki Bosely, I have wanted to visit Bowling Green, Ohio.  There is supposed to be a family Bible there with a Spellman family genealogy.  I would like to find that, or at least talk to every Spellman I can find in the area and see if they know anything about such an item.  Bowling Green is not far off the route I chose across northern Ohio, but I had no time.  I was running late.  I had to press on.  And who is setting this crazy schedule in my head?  Myself, the guy who’s retired and can do anything he wishes.

My new, more relaxed, look

With all that in mind, my first week at Roseland has been a blessing.  What have I done?  Precious little.  I’ve spent hours baking alongside the pool, or when my body got too hot from the sun’s heat, floating on a cushion in the pool.  I’ve read three books and started two more.  I’ve made two trips into New Martinsville, the closest town, to shop, and one trip to Parkersburg to see Sharon, pick up some stuff at Ron’s house, and get my hair cut.  What I haven’t done is write.  So far I have been unsuccessful in getting any internet connection set up.  My cell phone service is sketchy at best, and for two days the phone told me “No Service” when I tried to make a call.  All of which should have helped me to relax,  but in fact only caused more stress, as I saw my e-mail messages rising to a mountainous height and the artists I’m watching on DeviantArt and Red Bubble posting more and more photos that I couldn’t see.  And don’t you know I HAVE to see that art.  I HAVE to read my e-mail.  I HAVE to share things on Facebook.  The world might come to an end if I don’t.  The hardest part has been my inability to talk with Kevin.  

But those frustrations pass when I’m lying naked poolside, or hiking the nature trails around the resort.  They pass when I’m talking with interesting men from Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Washington DC or Wheeling West Virginia.  I even met a Bimbo.  (Yes, I meant to put that “B” in upper case.)  Everyone calls him Beau (or maybe Bo), but his driver’s license and birth certificate say that his real name is “Bimbo.”  Parents do awful things to their children, don’t they?

I have relaxed so much that on Wednesday last, I got my lowest blood glucose reading ever.  I haven’t been able to duplicate that reading since, so it may have been an anomaly, but I’m certain that if I stay here a while longer, spend as much time as possible by the pool or out hiking, I might even get that glucose to behave.  I’m seriously considering buying one of the trailers that’s for sale here.  Would that be any different than the log cabin my parents owned one-thousand miles from home which they visited one month each year?

The Trailer Across the Road
See what those gay boys can do with a campsite!

What are my plans now?  I don’t really have any.  I have promised Sharon that I will drive her to the southwestern corner of Indiana where her husband ‘s body is buried.  I want to take some more day trips around the area.  I’d like to go as far as the eastern peninsula of Maryland to see where the McAtees started out in America, passing through the Shenandoah Valley en route to see where the Stephens got their start.  I’ve asked Crescent City friend Paul Cloer about visiting him in North Carolina, and I’ve researched staying at gay resorts in Tennessee and Arkansas on my way home—whenever that is.  But for now, I’m happy to just sit on Ron’s deck, lounge by (in) the pool, and hike the trails.  Could retired life get any better?

Oh, and the books I’ve read?  Well I finished Charles Glass’s Americans in Paris: Life and Death Under Nazi Occupation, which tied in well with my doctoral work.  I read the first volume in Alexander McCall Smith’s Isabel Dalhousie series, The Sunday Philosophy Club, and Jessie Chandler’s Bingo Barge Murder, which certainly fits the “light and frivolous” category.   I’ve started David Bishop’s The Third Coincidence.  All three are murder mysteries, although very different in style, and the last two are on my Kindle Fire, which means I can’t read them at the pool because of the glare on the screen.  So for poolside reading, I’ve pulled off my shelves a treatise on getting more done by doing less, Richard Carlson and Joseph Bailey’s Slowing Down to the Speed of Life:  How to Create a More Peaceful, Simpler Life from the Inside Out.  With any luck, I’ll learn something.

The Wetzel County, West Virginia Courthouse, Built 1902
New Martinsville, West Virginia