Sled Dogs in Virginia

One of the Huskies that pulled us on the New River Trail.

The first time you see it, you're torn between thinking it's beautiful and thinking it's funny.  Sled dogs pulling a person -- on a scooter.

The dogs are beautiful and athletic.  They lean into the harness as if it was the only thing that mattered.  Their blue eyes and contrasting white and silver fur shimmering in the sun.

Jenny, Tina, Sam and Wayne show me the "real" sleds.

And then there's the person in the back, looking like, well, not what you'd expect those gorgeous huskies to be pulling -- a two wheeled contraption without pedals that looks like it could come from Toys R Us.

On the other hand the people are having a blast, and so are their dogs.  

As a dog lover, I appreciate the people in this story.  Jenny and Sam Akers, Tina Gibson and Wayne Grim.  To a certain extent they backed into their new pastime.  Forgive the pun, but when you look at the back story it's kinda like the tail is wagging the dog.

I've got to believe most sled dog enthusiasts get into the sport saying something like, "Hey that looks like a fun winter sport, I think I'll get some dogs and give it a try."

Fair enough?

These people kinda went, "Hmmm now that I have these huskies, what am I supposed to do to keep them from chewing up the couch?"

Wayne let me try his rig.

You'll understand if hitching them to a sled wasn't the first thing that came to mind.  After all Virginia is not exactly the land of the mushers. 

Their interest originates with Siberian Husky Assist, which helps Huskies find "forever homes" in the area between Roanoke and Knoxville, TN.    Even Jenny Akers, who may be the biggest Husky lover in the group, told me during our interview, "Huskies aren't for everyone.  Open the door and they'll take off -- might never come back.  If a thief breaks into the house the Husky will help them pack."  In other words, the breed is not for everyone.


The Siberian Husky Assist website asks that you watch this video: 

Google the word Husky and you'll get ample warning that you may be biting off more than you can chew.  (Pun #2 -- sorry.)  They shed.  They have wolf-like tendencies.  They are big dogs, which often don't do well in small houses.  You get the point(s).

But these folks have figured it out.  They've adopted one dog and then another and another.  They meet at the nearly perfect New River Trail and they let their happy dogs burn off all that energy.  And the people thrive too.

They slow it down in the summer when the dogs can over heat.  In the winter they let the dogs pull the scooters and the sleds on wheels.  When it actually snows, it's like heaven for the dogs and their mushers.

Tina and one of her dogs.

Group shot.  Thanks for an interesting story.

I encourage you to take a look at the Siberian Husky Assist website.
Jenny Akers can be reached via e-mail at bluenorthernwind@gmail.com  Marcia Horne, president of the rescue is at siberianhuskyrescue@yahoo.com

Black Pot Chicken

Black Pot Chicken

Like many people I had waited in line at the Blue Ridge Folklife Festival for a taste of Black Pot Chicken.  And like many, I finally tired of waiting and walked away.  This year I decided to get to the bottom of it.  Or at least try.

As I interviewed people for this story as they stood in line, it was a common refrain.  Like a marathon, a mountain climb or Black Friday at the electronics store,  people were determined to get there.

Success in this line means literally tasting victory.

In the television story you can see the sizzle of the chicken cooked in peanut oil, and almost smell the aroma coming from the golden brown legs, thighs and breasts, as the Patrick County Ruritans go through their familiar paces.

To re-cap:  The Patrick County crew was at a national conference in Philadelphia in 1976, when some kindly and elderly fellow Ruritans gave them a copy of their own secret recipe.  Only one man, Phil Plaster, was given the secret, and to this day, only Phil has it.  It’s in his head and his safe deposit box.  His wife and his will have instructions about who gets it next.

The local guys came home and tried it at a July 4^th celebration and knew they had a winner.  They signed up for a spot at the Blue Ridge Folklife Festival and they’ve been there ever since.  And so have the lines of people.

The guys I interviewed -- cook Will Walker, chicken batterer Ronnie Mabe, and secret holder Phil Plaster seem to love all this.  They grin when they talk about everyone leaving the room while Phil adds the secret ingredients.  They cut-up about Ronnie Mabe outliving Phil just so he can be next to know.  Will Walker, who is physically closer to the line of people by virtue of being the cook, has had ample opportunity to practice his answer to the inevitable question, “What makes this so good?” 

“I just do the cooking,” he dead pans.

Once again the great part about this job, and this segment, is that the people are so real.  These guys just enjoy what they do.  Go to a festival and sell secret chicken to appreciative festival goers.

Of Giant Holes and Iron Mines

This is a picture of overturned ore cars on the narrow gauge railway that carried iron ore from the area around the back of Mill Mountain to the valley below. The photo belongs to Roanoker Ralph Campbell.


I’m not sure if this is a story about history or recreation.

Or wonder.

I know that my interest originated while hiking, running and dog walking on the Chestnut Ridge Loop trail near Mill Mountain. (The five-plus mile trail generally loops around the Roanoke Mountain Campground.)

I spend a fair amount of time up there but it took a while to realize that something wasn’t right. The land just didn’t lie naturally. There were humps where there was no reason for humps. Ravines you would expect to have been created by creeks did not have water in the bottom.

Something else must have created the topography.

During a dog walk one Sunday morning; friend Dennis Campbell told me iron mines were the cause. He spoke of a narrow gauge railroad that once hauled the ore to the valley floor where it was scrubbed before it could be smelted. His father, who grew up roughly behind the Outback Steakhouse, had told him about being warned “not to play over there,” as a child. He had related those stories to Dennis.

After twenty-three years in the Roanoke Valley, this was a history lesson I hadn’t heard. I had to find out for myself.

Not so fast.

I figured I’d call some local historians, dig up some pictures at the History Museum of Western Virginia, go hike my beloved trail and be on my way to the next story.

Nope.

No one was able to find any pictures of the mining activity. Few had any knowledge of the mines at all. All traces of the narrow gauge railway were gone. Finally the great Roanoke historian George Kegley unearthed some valuable information, and shared what he had found on camera.

He told me that a man, who has largely been forgotten by Roanoke historians, though he is clearly one of the area’s founding fathers, owned the mines. Ferdinand Rorer is well covered in the TV report, though I did not have the space to include an interesting passage from the society page and read aloud to me by Kegley:

“...with his invited guests, ore cars of the narrow gauge railroad were mounted and with the whistle of the little saddle backed steam engine sounding at numerous street crossings the little engine went south and east crowing the river on the narrow gauge bridge up past colonial heights (colonial Avenue) on to the Rorer Mines. Upon return all were treated to an elegant supper at Rorer Park Hotel.“

To my surprise, Kegley was energized by the re-emergence of Rorer. He tells me he plans to do further research on him.

As to the question of whether it’s about history or recreation – decide for yourself. Go walk the trail, starting from the overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway spur about a quarter mile past the entrance to the Roanoke Mountain Campground. As you walk in a counter clockwise direction, it’s about 3 miles to the area where the ground starts to look a little unusual. Use the pictures with this blog so you can recognize the topography.

In the meantime, if anyone has old photos of the mining activity, the railroad or anything else associated with this story, please e-mail me at carlinagency@gmail.com. If there’s enough there, I’ll do a follow up.

See you on the trail.

The Sarver Cabin

It's not everyday that you are struck with wonder about how the impossible actually happened. And yet in my report on the Sarver Cabin... That's exactly what happened.

The Back Story

My good friend and long-time running buddy Mark Young had been telling me for years about an abandoned cabin he stayed near while doing a week-long hike on the Appalachian Trail. It was eerie, he said. Possibly haunted. More intriguing was how anyone could have lived in such a remote location, in inhospitable conditions in the 1800's.

That story stuck with me. I had wanted to do a segment on it, but even today the only way to get there is on foot, and it's a long, difficult hike. Not the kind where we can carry all the camera gear that's typically required. (I guess we aren't as tough as the Sarvers were.)

Technology Helps Out

A few months ago I purchased a Canon EOS 7D SLR camera. It's primarily a still camera used to take photographs. But after reading that some ad agencies were using its video function to shoot full-fledged commercials, and that the video quality was broadcast quality, I saw my chance to report on the cabin.

So Mark and I found a way to access the trail from the Craig County side and up we went. The hike is about 6-8 miles round trip, and the first hour is all uphill.

The turn for the Cabin is well marked as it is near an Appalachian Trail shelter built by the Roanoke Valley club within the past 10 years.

Even though we were expecting it, I had one of those moments of fulfilled anticipation as we turned the last corner and there were the remains Mark had remembered from 10 years ago.

Just as he had, I wondered how anybody could do it. Live up there on that mountain, in the cold winter months, with primitive heating and what I figured was poor land that must have been impossible to till. Why, I thought, would anyone do this?

I started calling historians. Nobody knew anything. I was about to give up and file a report on the "Mystery of Sarver Hollow."

The Answers

Then I called the Craig County Library, who told me to contact the historical society, which as it turned out, knew where I could actually talk to the great great grandsons of Henry Sarver, the man who built the cabin.

Russell and Sidney Sarver had his Civil war records. They had the death certificate of cabin co-builder and brother-in-law, James Elmore, who died in Pickett's charge at Gettysburg. There were pictures of ancestors, even Sarah Sarver, Henry's wife. They are both buried on the property. There was all kinds of information -- information that answered those questions of how and why.

They were homesteaders. Improve the land for a decade and it's yours. There are springs nearby -- one of the few sources of water on the mountain.

And they cleared the land and farmed it. In 1870 it wasn't the woodsy mountaintop we see now. The brothers described it as "hilly farmland."

The cabin is pretty much gone. Trees have fallen on it, and the chimneys are about all that's recognizable. An out building is still building-shaped, but the roof has caved in. The place has suffered much just in the ten years since Mark had stayed there.

Russell and Sidney say they've been back a few times, but at 61 & 59 respectively, they say the hike is pretty hard on them.

I asked Russell if he would like to see it built back.

"If you go up there, you can almost feel the presence of ‘em," he said. "Especially those of us who are old enough to remember seeing my grandparents there. It’s actually something I think about a lot ... Yes sir I’d love to. But I don’t guess we ever will."

At least now we know a little more. We've reconstructed the story, but there's plenty of room left for wonder.

Thanks
I would like to thank and commend the folks at the Craig County Historical Society, and especially Jane Johnson and Jay Polen, for their help in researching this story. These folks don't want history to slip away from us, so they research and publish books every year. Because of Jane Johnson, I went from not being able to know anything about this cabin -- to the detailed descriptions of the lives of generations of Sarvers. Jay Polen actually took the time to come to the Sinking Creek store and interview with us. Again -- Thanks.

If you go

Follow Route 42 from the town of Newport. You'll see where the Appalachian Trail crosses the highway a few miles outside town near the community of Huffman. Hike from there. You can get about 3/4 of a mile closer by taking your next right and bearing right at the fork in the road. There is a small parking place next to the trail. Head uphill. Have fun.

Open Studios Botetourt

Drive the back roads surrounding Roanoke and you see a lot of lovely countryside. Forgive the cliche, but especially this time of year it's as pretty as a picture.

What you likely have not seen are the actual pictures.

Ok -- technically, I believe a "picture" is a photograph, and I'm talking about paintings, and woodworking and pottery. And as it turns out, there are a number of highly talented artists who create this work in Botetourt County.

Open Studios Botetourt, subtitled, Art in the Country is an opportunity for people to visit these artists where they work -- and often live -- in order to better understand the art and the artist. I should throw in that the art is for sale.

For my story on Fox 21/27 we had time to interview two of the artists: Ed Bordett, and Dreama Kattenbraker. We visited Dreama's home, where her garage has become a cozy studio. Ed is located in an old car dealership in Fincastle, where he paints and creates hand-crafted prints amidst a collection of cool antiques, and his own gallery.

Art is like wine. You know what you like -- though I'm no expert, I can say that there is quality there. I liked a lot of what I saw. These are not amateurs or hobbyists. They take their art and their space personally. So it's a big deal that you are invited into that space.

Both Ed and Dreama felt that if people got to know the artists, learned their motivation and had a glimpse of their psyches, they might see beyond the images on the canvas.

It's no secret that arts sales have been lagging in current economy. Credit this group who decided to do something about it. they created this tour. Botetourt County Tourism is helping them, along with the Bank of Fincastle. They have a marketing plan, a brochure with a map and Ed is printing lots of signs in his shop. They even have a Facebook page.
I have spent quite a lot to time with a third artist in this group. Mark Young is a long-time running buddy. We've logged hundreds of miles training for marathons, and I've had the privilege of spending time in his studio, and adjacent home, in which much of his work is displayed. When I see one of his oils, I see Mark.

I encourage you to take advantage of where we live. Enjoy the countryside. Take a drive, see the scenery and see the art.

Miss America IX

Going fast on any boat is a thrill. But going fast in the Miss America IX is more thrilling.

Not only is the wind in your face, and the exhaust from those big Chevy engines, not to mention the unmuffled noise but there is all that wood reaching out in front of you.

And all the history behind you.

Charles Mistele recognized all of that when he saw just the shell of this boat in a warehouse in the midwest. Only in his 20’s at the time, he knew this boat was special, and felt called to be the one who resurrected her.

As we told you in the television story, he had told the owner that he wanted to buy it if it ever became available. When the phone rang two years later, the owner confided that another man was also interested, but Charles was first in line, if he could decide that same day. He and his wife drove several hours to see it.

“When we looked at the boat in the warehouse it was in terrible shape. The motors were missing, the wood needed repair, it was a mess,” he said. His wife went to sit in the car, while Charles poured over it and talked to the owner.

Halfway home, his wife said, “I’m sure glad you didn’t buy that boat.” Charles looked at her with a raised eyebrow and an tilt of the head that said, “Well actually, I did.”

There was an incredulous discussion that followed, where his wife noted that they did not yet have other essential things in their young lives, such as furniture.

The argument passed. But the boat survived.



Together they lovingly restored the Miss America IX. And it became the fast and furious attraction at boats shows when there was time to show it.

Then, two years ago, Diane became ill. “I almost lost her,” Charles told me as we sat by the dock.

He picks up the story from there. “She’s okay but in that process of healing she said, you know we’ve had this old boat all these years. We have to make an effort of taking this boat around and showing it at events where we’ve never been before. And I said, ‘Yeah some day we have to do that,’ and she took her glasses off and there was a tear in her eye and she said Chuck, someday was two years ago. We’ve got to get going. I don’t want you to be 75 … and look back and say I wish I had, I should have, I could have… Why didn’t I? I blew it.”


So now at their own expense, Charles and Diane travel the country, taking in the sites and sharing the Miss America with the nation – at their own expense.

If you get a chance, you should go see it. Like I said, this boat has some history.

Punkin' Chunker

Every television station in America will air a story on something unusual to do with pumpkins this fall. There are the stories about underwater pumpkin carving, pumpkins so large they must be lifted with a crane, and the fine art of carving intricate faces and designs that go well past the toothy grin of the jack-o-lantern on your front porch.

Into that mix then comes the genre of stories involving clever ways to hurl pumpkins across the field -- or in some cases, many fields. Delaware even hosts the national competition for pumpkin hurlers.

There are trebuchets, slingshots, and in the case of my own story, canons.

This is all great fun. Really. You might say it’s wasteful to splatter pumpkins across some random hillside, yet people line up by the hundreds to either see or do it. I’m betting you couldn’t take your eyes off the video of the Umberger brothers and young Makaela shooting these perfect pumpkins into next week.

We can wonder why it’s so much fun, perhaps even debate it. But for Bobby Williams, the third generation of his family to operate Williams Orchard it’s simple: money.


His grandfather started the 700 acre operation in the 1920’s. “Back then we could operate by growing things and selling them to local people,” he told me as we stood in front of the store that still sells apples, locally produced preserves, and yes, pumpkins. “Back in the 50’s and 60’s people had root cellars and they would back in here and buy a pick-up truck load of apples and store them all winter.”

Gradually, supermarkets, better transportation and technology combined with foreign competition made the apple business less profitable. So Bobby started planting pumpkins about 30 years ago.

The pumpkins, led to hayrides, pick-your-own patches, a corn maze, wholesale vending and the Punkin Chunker. Though the store is full of apples, Williams says pumpkins do more business. “It’s about 60-40 pumpkins,” he said.

Williams isn’t alone. Farmers across Virginia are turning to “agri-tourism” or as Williams calls it, “agri-tainment.”

That’s why he conned his son-in-law, Patrick Umberger into designing and building the Punkin’ Chunker.

It’s five dollars a pop, to shoot the Chunker, using a Wile E. Coyote-looking plunger device, but that’s not really where the money is.

“Oh, we make some money from people coming to shoot it,” says Williams, but really, it’s just an attraction.”

That it is. You can buy a pumpkin at Wal-Mart. But if you want to see a pumpkin launched out of sight from a 40 foot canon, you’ll need to drive a bit.

Williams is betting you will.