Tonight’s image is the railyard at Cheylan West Virginia. If you look closely at the background you can see one of our coal tipples. The coal comes down the river in huge barges and is offloaded to the tipple where it’s moved by conveyor belt into the train. It’s some of the most dangerous work in the mining industry. My whole life I’ve heard stories about workers stepping between two rail cars at the wrong moment. The large piles of coal have been known to collapse and bury men alive. I know that coal energy is controversial in the world today but it is our main energy source in a large portion of the world. Here in West Virginia coal lights our homes, cooks our meals and powers our internet connection. It even powers our electric vehicles. Through the paychecks paid to the miners coal feeds families whose members have never set foot in a mine. (Every mining job supports between 3 and 5 others. ) It all centers on hubs like you see here and the workers who risk it all to pull light out of darkness.
Tag: coal
Relics
Every so often I find that my curiosity gets the best of me. I’ve always been an explorer at heart and when I see a piece of junk left behind my inner child wants to play Indiana Jones. I have passed this old drilling rig for thirty years and kept telling myself one day I’ll go down into the overgrown field and check it out. It’s not as simple as it sounds. I live in rattlesnake territory and they absolutely love to make their dens in old machines. It was still winter I figured that they were still hibernating if not frozen stiff and so I made my way to the rig. Since there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity, I moved cautiously through the briars and winter grasses. I used my tripod to push back the brush and make sure I actually wanted to step there before moving forward. When I finally reached my goal a took a few minutes to appreciate the object before my eyes. I was touching history. Maybe not Earth shattering history but someone’s history. The drilling rig was more than likely used by miners to get core samples for the coal industry. I looked over the broken gauges and switches. The key that turned the machine on was still in the ignition. Levers that were frozen with rust had not been touched by human hands in decades. The steel cables sagged and the wheels had rotted away. I think about the men who operated the drill. I imagine the hot July and August days on the job site. The dust rises from the bore hole turns into mud when it lands on their necks due to sweat. The type of men who do this kind of work are hardy and take pride in the job. They deal with the misery of labor by laughing when it’s over. I would not be surprised if break time included some pranks here and there. There always at least one person on a crew like this who is afraid of snakes and a cheap rubber snake left near a lunch box is better than T.V. These men are not just coworkers. They’re family. They say that history is really his story . But it’s their story and our story. And when you come in contact with one of the relics, it’s your story too.
Evening On The Kanawha River
Late last summer I managed to get a nice shot of sunset over the Kanawha River. The golden dome in the background is our capital building. My home is at the other end this river. When I was a kid I was told that the word Kanawha was a Native American word for big river. Today I checked via Google and was given a few more interpretations. The Shawnee say that it’s a word for new water and the Catabwa say it means friendly brother. That’s odd to me because I have always thought that both tribes spoke Algonquin. What’s in a name anyway? Whatever Kanawha means it’s a major resource. The tug boats are often seen pushing massive amounts of coal up and downstream. The Kanawha River has been a major resource for thousands of years and it still is today.
Crossing Over
There are many crossings in this world. Places where one leg of life’s journey ends and the next one begins. Human beings are a funny lot. We dream about moving forward into adventure but don’t want to leave the familiar behind. We can’t wait to graduate from school but spend the rest of our lives in nostalgia.
I occasionally pull out a playlist of music from the 80s and play the roll of a silly middle-aged man for my twenty something and thirty something coworkers. I recount the days and tell the stories of the times that formed who I am today. It’s entirely for entertainment purposes. The truth is that our glory days are ahead of us not behind us. We need to take the next step if we want to achieve our full potential. We need to trust the bridge and cross over into that new territory.
The image above was taken at Hawks Nest State Park in West Virginia.
WanderlustÂ
My lifetime has been lived between mountains and rivers. One of the things I love most is that the hills and ridges always seem to have some secret just waiting for us to discover. I eventually found the time to head across the river and explore only to find more questions on the other side. There are days when I wish I could just load a good ATV up with supplies and see how far down the tracks I can go.
The mountains in the background were once occupied by the Adena. Our local history says that there was a huge wall that stretched for miles. I have daydreams about what the landscape would have been in those times. What were they keeping out? What were protecting? Surely a culture that built a huge stone wall would also have buildings. Is there abandoned temple hidden somewhere in the deep forests? The Adena had copper tools. Is there also a golden idol tucked away just waiting for Indiana Jones to find? Maybe and maybe not. But I would love to find out.
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