New River Gorge National Park

The hills and hollers of West Virginia delighted us when we first visited in 2017. That trip was motivated by the closure of coal mines in WV and Kentucky and fueled by a CNN documentary about Beattyville, KY, as the poorest town in America. I was determined to see Beattyville and to follow the Appalachian Mountains south from Vermont. It wasn't until we entered the hills of West Virginia that the trip became interesting. It was here that our navigational devices became useless and each hairpin turn in the ever climbing and descending landscape magically deposited us in a place of beauty. One lane dirt roads, barely navigable in our RV, would land us in mountain top towns. The lawns of the homes here were often too steep for mowers and instead were manicured with a weed whacker. Each town had a church with white steeple and hillside cemetery. Add to this bucolic scene, flowering Dogwood and a babbling brook and you have, "almost heaven", West Virginia.

This trip can be found in the blog archive under 2017 April.

Dogwood 

During this trip to West Virginia, we weren't looking for poverty but instead, visiting our nation's newest National Park, New River Gorge, having just received this designation in 2021. The New River, however, was named a National River in 1978 and is well known among rafters and kayakers for its  top rated rapids.We were told by rangers that this river is one of the oldest in the world and rocks along the gorge walls can be as old as 330 million years.

The New River Gorge bridge has an equivalent height of two Statues of Liberty placed on top of the Empire State Building, 800 plus feet above ground and 3000 feet long.

Unlike many other National Parks we have visited, New River Gorge has no entrance fee and all campgrounds are primitive, geared toward tents and not RVs of our size. Fortunately, there are many wonderful State Parks within easy driving distance. We found getting around New Gorge to be somewhat confusing. It’s quite spread out with some towns embedded. The gorge dictates that many roads are narrow and dead ends. Despite going to the visitors center and receiving copious information and maps from a well informed ranger, we found ourselves still confused. But, not to be deterred, we ventured out. Our destination was the old railroad town of Thurmond. The railroad was instrumental in opening this rugged terrain to exploration. The ranger, knowing our vehicle was 30 feet long, had given us information on where to go safely, saying "do go here" and "definitely don't try this". We were not quite sure while driving to Thurmond if this was a do or a don't. 

Bucky preformed heroically navigating the 20 miles of single lane curved road leading into Thurmond. There wasn't much traffic and when we met another vehicle, he found just enough shoulder to pull over onto. We followed the railroad tracks and lovely streams through the woods, seeing nothing for miles and miles when suddenly a brown and yellow park sign appeared with picnic area and an arrow pointing down a terrifically steep hill. We pulled over against another park sign saying Stone Cliff. From here, we watched several small vehicles hesitate at the top of the hill then plummet into picnic hell! A white jeep approached with a front mounted winch. My take was that the winch was not applied purely for show. 

Stone Cliff

Our trip to Thurmond ended abruptly as we crested a steep hill with a narrow bridge beyond. I assumed we would proceed, but Bucky stopped abruptly uttering, "We can't go through !"

He remembered the ranger saying, "don't take the one lane bridge near Thurmond. You're too long to make the turn when you reach the end and you'll have to back the entire way out."

It was here that Bucky showed true expertise as an RV driver. Between the railroad tracks and the river's edge he jockeyed the Greyhawk back and forth 180 degrees. I unabashedly stood at the top of the steep hill to flag any approaching vehicles to a stop. Normally, I don't like to display publicly, but this was an exception. Fortunately, no cars approached and we were soon crawling the 20 miles of one lane road out of Thurmond. Fortunately, the ride out of the unknown always feels shorter than the ride into the unknown.

We enjoyed our time in New River Gorge, but it's definitely a park that appeals more to paddlers and hikers and less to RVers. This may change as it is brand new to the park system, but there's a definite charm to its simplicity.

Our drive north on US RT 219 was spectacular. The farms and fields resembled VT but most were above 3,000 feet. We passed Pearl Buck's birthplace in the town of Hillsboro and Snowshoe Mountain Ski Resort with its 1500 vertical feet and 60 trails. For me, this part of West Virginia had everything I love about Vermont with many more flowering trees. 

Pearl Buck's birthplace

                                                 This gnome house came as a surprise!

Barn quilts have begun to appear.

The Walmart of Elkins, WV is providing us lodging tonight. Tomorrow we'll head to Pennsylvania and Amish country.

Moving on...

Laughing gulls, aptly named

We spent our final morning walking the Assateague State Park beach. I should clarify by saying, I walked  the beach while Bucky watched fisherman, offshore and surf casting from the beach. He was decidedly more interested in this than bending to retrieve a brightly colored shell, only to watch it lose its luster in the drying sun. I picked up polished oyster shells and broken pieces of fragile white angel wings. I only recognized them as angel wings having picked up many in the past on Sanibel Island. I knew their fragile knobby surface could not withstand the pounding of the previous days' waves. I picked up oyster shells having holes at the top and envisioned Bucky creating necklaces displaying their iridescent undersides.

The tide line was littered with horseshoe crabs in various stages of death. Some lifted their razor thin tails as if waving as I approached. It was both eerie and pathetic. My assumption was that the wind and waves  had brought them to shore. It wasn’t until I returned to Bucky that I questioned my thinking. Bucky told me he watched the fisherman pull catch from their net, putting fish into boxes, but throwing crabs overboard. He thought the crabs might sustain injury when going through the net roller before being tossed back to sea. Maybe? By whatever means, the crabs on the beach were a feast for the shore birds. Nature’s circle of life presented on sand. 

Occasionally, a gull stepped away from its seafood platter and a brave sandpiper, lured from its secure huddle, would venture in for a delicious bite.

I easily identified with the small bird’s desire for shellfish as we had enjoyed soft shelled crabs, shrimp and scallops twice in the last two days. The hush puppies that traditionally accompany a southern shore dinner were just as I like them with whole kernel corn embedded within. In my mind this legitimizes the hush puppy as a vegetable substitute rather than a dinner doughnut. Also offered as a side were “sweet fries". I expected sweet potato fries but was truly amazed when they arrived topped with cinnamon sugar! Southern cooks have a knack of taking the ordinary and turning it into the extraordinary.

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I was fascinated by the Semipalmated Sandpiper's one legged stance. Many shorebirds utilize this posture, shifting their weight over the standing leg. My guess it's a resting technique, but I'll need to ask my expert, Bucky!

Semipalmated sandpiper

Is this like circling the wagons?

Chincoteague Island, a seven mile long barrier island south of Assateague, is quite different from Assateague. Assateague Island is 37 miles long with the majority of the island in Maryland and the remainder in Virginia. A fence separates the wild horses in each state. Assateague can be entered by road in the north and south, but most of the island is roadless. Both islands have lovely sand beaches and many remote spots can be accessed by foot or bicycle. Bucky and I felt somewhat handicapped without bikes. They are truly the way to investigate both islands.

It is on Chincoteague that the ponies are rounded up in late July by the "salt water" cowboys and the foals are auctioned off. There is a large festival around the penning of the ponies. During round up week, people from all over the world come to Chincoteague to watch the penning of the ponies and to see them herded down Main Street. The cowboys move the horses from the Virginia owned part of Assateague and swim them at low tide through a narrow channel onto Chincoteague. The foals are separated and later auctioned off. Select horses referred to as, Buy Backs, are auctioned but returned to the wild as breeding stock. They often bring the highest bids of the auction. 

My introduction to the wild ponies came as a horse loving young girl when my parents bought me Marguerite Henry's book, Misty of Chincoteague. During the festival, the movie,"Misty of Chincoteague" is shown on screens around town. For us, the town of Chincoteague appeared resort like and had an air of honkytonk. However, the trails and marshes are extremely interesting. The options to walk and explore saltwater lowlands is quite extensive. As most of the wild ponies are residing on Assateague, not many animals are seen from Chincoteague.

The ponies in Maryland are left untouched to live and die on the northern end of the island. We were told by a devout pony follower, I think they're officially known as Friends of Assateague, that the Maryland ponies do not receive any veterinary attention. This lady was a devout lover of the wild ponies to the extent that she left her home in Minnesota, moving to Maryland to be closer to the horses.  She knew each horse by name and lineage and with which “band” they traveled.....band not herd. She told us about a  pony named Thomas, named for her father. 

 

The marshes of Chincoteague did provide some excellent bird viewing and the unexpected distant view of ponies. This particular pony sighting led to many vehicles pulling onto the shoulder and photographers leaping to capture the moment, myself included. I envied the length of the lens being used by the man beside me knowing his images would appear much closer than mine. We had been told by the pony lady that the colors of the horses in Virginia were more varied than those in Maryland. The Virginia herd, through the roundup, can be managed in ways the wild horses of Maryland cannot. The Buy Back ponies play a role in this.

Ponies in the marsh water of Chincoteague

We also learned from our pony lady that this mare is Moon Shadow and her filly is not yet named.

Snowy Egret fishing

Traversing Virginia "with my very best friend, they call him ragtime ...........Bucky!

                                   

Ponies

                           

                                                                            "white saddle"

Sun sifted through the weave of our RV shades. Crescendos of surf hitting the beach pushed me toward wakefulness. How safe and fresh the sea breeze felt streaming through our open windows and across our semi-sleeping bodies. Nights spent camped on the fringe of Walmart parking lots, next to lawn and garden, tucked against bags of potting soil and cedar bark, never provided the secure sleep of a park campsite. 

We saw the dreaded “campground full” sign as we presented our senior pass to the perky young park ranger manning the entry to Assateague National Seashore. She sweetly dashed our hope of a last minute cancellation, but with saccharine sweetness, referred us to Assateague State Park, less than a half mile down the road. The National and State lands are adjacent to each other and what one denied the other generously provided.

Traveling with no itinerary or reservations can sometimes lead to end of day surprises. Two nights ago, after barely negotiating NYC traffic, which included a stop by a highway patrolman for traveling on a highway restricted to cars only, we arrived in NJ only to discover that despite an over abundance of Walmarts, each one flaunting a well lit yellow star of hospitality, none allowed overnight stays. This now seems a common policy around large cities. So, there was nothing to do but keep driving long past cocktail hour which left us both quite grumpy. In the past, I've been known to undo my seat belt, leave the passenger seat, pour myself a glass of wine and relax at home while still remaining less than 10 feet away from Bucky! It wasn't long before a service center on I 95 provided us a “stall” for the night, nestled between two long white lines. The steady rain drummed on the RV roof, mixing with the rumble of diesel engines creating a weary travelers lullaby, Within a day, these sounds were replaced by gull cries and Grackle cackles on Assateague Island, Maryland. We had come to this barrier island and its sister island Chicoteague to see the wild ponies. These horses believed to be descendants of the horses of Spanish explorers are left to run free. The humans who come from far and near to view them, stand aside and let them pass. It's refreshing to see animals have the upper hand.

As always, birds catch my eye.... a brown thrasher outside the RV and a Boat tailed Grackle

keeping watch.

We settled into our site, mere steps from the ocean beach. If we had known how awesome the state park was, we would have never tried the national park!

Almost as if by design, the ponies appeared, strolling through the parked trailers, sniffing for leftovers around fire pits and nibbling on grass and occasionally on each other. There is a hierarchy here that we humans don't understand. Upon first sight, I was captivated. Now, after two days on the island, I'm in love with these ponies! If you have a son, daughter, grandchild or favorite person who loves horses, tell them to visit.

A foal rests while its Mom eats. White saddle looks well nourished.

                                This mare moved in and aggressively drove the mare and foal away,

Our Vermont winter was snowy and although not extremely cold, there was no denying it was long when snow appeared on May 1st. I don't consider myself a beach person after spending the last 10 plus summers in Alaska, but I felt the need for warm sun and white ocean sand. Assateague didn't disappoint!

Bucky took advantage of the sun to try out his new solar panels. We are now able to generate our own power.......to a certain extent. We can even watch TV! Feel free to boo here.

Cardinals, so scarce in Ripton, compete here to determine who can whistle loudest. 

My morning beach stroll was made complete when I saw ponies approaching. At first I thought it was "white saddle" who we named when first arriving on the island, but this was a smaller animal. He/she would soon be known as t-shirt. T-shirt followed a few friends along the surf line as if choosing to walk on the harder sand, just as I had. There was no hesitation in the movement of the small herd up the beach. They paid no attention to humans sharing in their morning stroll. It was very clear the ponies had a destination.

 

                                                                                     T-shirt

 

As the ponies walked away, we watched a fishing boat work around a net set earlier that morning. Shore birds worked feverishly as waves crashed depositing a menu of breakfast pleasures. My knowledge of these birds is pitifully limited, but I try to learn a few each time I'm near the ocean.

                                                                                    Least Tern

                                

                                                                           Willet

                                                                     Semipalmated Sandpiper

                                                                      Our daily visitor.