Coal Miner Country

Coal Miner Country

(Blog for Thursday, June 6. Published a little late.)

Each year, as we set off on this annual summer sojourn, I try to do two things – take as many pictures as possible and learn something about the places we visit. After all, my role in this partnership is to save the details of our trip for posterity. What I’ve learned this year is that Appalachia doesn’t necessarily provide a plethora of unique photo opportunities and there isn’t much to talk about when your day consists of a series of twists, turns, sweeping curves, straightaways and switchbacks through a national forest.

The landscape is primarily flora and fauna, clusters of pine trees in various shades of green with diminutive wildflowers springing up along the streams and creeks. Small herds of cows dot the hillsides, lazily grazing in the summer sun and the vintage barns, each unique in their patina and design, stand precariously as weathered, stoic sentries to a century past. And from time to time, we’ll pass a suspendered old man sitting comfortably on his cluttered porch and he’ll wave cheerfully from his well-worn rocking chair. Of course, there’s always an opportunity to comment on the weather – soft gentle breezes blowing the perfectly puffy white clouds across the blue sky, or the gray, dismal and menacing version, ready to rain on our parade, like what we saw when we pulled back the curtains this morning. 

The forecast called for rain, and lots of it, aided and abetted by Tropical Storm Andrea, which was barreling its way up the east coast. Since we ended our ride on Wednesday in rain gear, and I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of starting Thursday in the same (un)fashion. With the rain pinging off the bike (and us), we headed towards Wytheville – taking the long road through the mountains. The weather was supposed to improve in the west, so we took the risk. I made a long distance plea to Heaven, bartering for the sun to make a cameo, if not prolonged appearance. Within an hour, the rain stopped, the clouds thinned and the sun came out. By noon, we stopped for a much-needed stretch and peeled off the rain garb, which by then was feeling more like a sauna suit.

The trip from Hillsville to Wytheville takes an hour – if you follow a straight line up Route 77, but by opting to take the long and winding road through Jefferson National Forest and the heart of Appalachia, Jason got his ride, I got my pictures, and we stayed relatively dry. The trip took seven hours along Virginia’s Coal Heritage Trail, across the mountains of Buchanan, Dickenson and Russell counties, through little towns like Haysi (population 493), Clincho (population 336) and Nora (population 566), and a host of others too small to make the map.

Coal mining has always been and continues to be the primary industry for Dickenson County. It’s a dangerous profession and explosions and death are a way of life. An explosion on the Splashdam mine took the lives of ten men in 1932. In 1983, an explosion in the McClure mine killed seven, including the first woman miner killed in Virginia. The Dickenson County Coal Miners Memorial, in front of the Clincho post office, lists the names of 309 people who lost their lives in mine related accidents.

The railroad in this area is almost as important as coal mining. The Clinchfield Railroad, completed in 1915, was built to haul coal from the region. Its tracks negotiate 277 miles across four mountain ranges and through five states, some of the most rugged terrain on the eastern United States. The legendary Clinchfield merged with the CSX in 1983, prompting James A. Goforth, retired Chief Engineer, to write his book, Building the Clinchfield, to help keep the story about this legendary little railroad that could alive for future generations.

Life in this part of the country isn’t easy, but the scenery is breathtaking. And look at this! I found something to write about!

See the pictures!