The Shot Tower -- An American Curiosity

The Shot Tower, along the New River Trail in Wythe County captured my imagination years ago. It would have been in the late 80's or early 90's when I discovered the trail as a place to ride my mountain bike. (They had just become widely available at bike shops.)

We did family outings on the trail. First with my now college-aged boys riding on the seat on the back of my bike. Later they rode their own bikes on the hard-packed surface enjoying a ride that offered nothing in the way of hills, and plenty of excitement with trestles and old railroad tunnels to ride over and through.

And there above the trail just off Interstate 77, was (and is) the Shot Tower.

In the TV story we showed how liquid (melted) lead was dumped through a sieve creating droplets that fell 150 feet. Along the way they would harden into perfectly round musket balls, or smaller, bird shot. At the bottom, the lead's fall was cushioned by a cauldron of water. Conveniently, the bottom was at river level, and boatmen could transport the product down the New River.

Though it was only used for actual shot making for a brief portion of its 200+ year history, from approximately 1804 - 1839, it stands today as a marvel and a curiosity.

On the outside, the part that sticks up into the air is a graceful structure, and unlike anything else you've ever seen. From the entrance looking down, is a shaft that drops 75 feet through solid limestone bedrock. I asked how they made that hole back then.

"With picks and shovels," said Park Interpreter Patrick McFall.

One of the many tourists who showed up while we were shooting the story asked, how they knew that 150 feet was the proper distance.

It goes back to England and a man named William Watts, who built a tower on the side of his house and kept adding on until he got the distance right. Thomas Jackson brought that information with him to Southwestern Virginia.

Somebody in the group remarked that Watts must have had a very understanding wife, to allow him to build a tower on the side of the house and play with molten lead.

Whether its carving a 75-foot hole into the landscape, making musket balls or figuring out how to make musket balls, it's cool to have the chance to marvel at how we arrived where we are today.

If you would like to see the Shot Tower, you need to plan to be there on a major summer holiday. (Labor Day is the next one on the schedule) or contact the New River Trail State Park headquarters at Foster Falls. The Rangers that I worked with on this story said they typically try to accommodate as many requests as they can -- but it's impossible to handle everything.

You might also be interested in volunteering to lead tours through the relatively new Americore program, which provides tour guides and or interpreters at all 35 of Virginia's State Parks.

The first thing you should do is check out Kurt Steger’s pronounced “Stager”) website. If you have any doubts about his talent or the authenticity of his approach that should settle it.

It might very well be that he could mass produce pieces of art with his look and style. The fact is that he doesn’t.

He sequesters himself away on his mountaintop retreat, living in a small (I mean small trailer--maybe 300 square feet?) and living with his work.

He “watches” pieces of wood in their natural setting for years. Pulls them to the front of his work shop and “sits” with them (not literally) for sometimes months, until they tell him what it should look like as a finished product.

“What I want to point out is that we are always in connection with nature. Man and nature are always coming up against each other. Whether we are in the woods or in NYC we are always on that edge of meeting nature,” he said.

If you look at his work in any detail, you’ll see that he focuses on that place where man and nature meet. He is obsessed with it.

Think about how his approach to what he does compares to yours. Let me tell you that in my section of Roanoke County suburbia which I affectionately call cul de sac corner, we do not sit around and look at pieces of branch or roots until they “tell us what to do.”

Nor would we take one another seriously if we did. We are too busy running to soccer games and driving mini vans. Yet, after half a day with Kurt, who has forsaken family life to live a hermit-like existence, you understand that he is legit. He needs that time to:
a. think about the work
b. complete the work.

He simply is not willing to compromise. He wants to be able to kick off his shoes (“I prefer to work barefoot.”) and work to the wee hours of the morning if the mood strikes him, or in some cases, if he is driven by the passion to see a work manifest itself.

We went there to do a story on the Burden Boat Project, which in fact we did. But I am most pleased to have had the chance to meet Kurt, to see how he thinks and to realize that he is what he says he is.
The Burden Boat Project will appear at the Smith Farm Center for Healing and the Arts, as part of a show entitled, The 9/11 Arts Project. Healing 10 Years Later.

From the Smith Farm website: At the core of our work is the belief that each of us harbors enormous powers of healing within. We also recognize that there are both new and time-tested techniques to enhance health and well-being- even in the midst of crisis. Our integrated approach of stress reduction and inner quiet, art-making and telling your story, supportive listening and loving community, healthy lifestyle choices and state-of-the-art medical care can birth simple yet profound changes that radically transform the experience of illness.

The show runs from August 22 -- September 30, 2011. During that time visitors will be asked to write down their burdens on a piece of rice paper. When the show closes there will be a ceremony only this time Kurt will use water instead of the traditional fire. "Fire is too closely associated with the tragedy," he said. The water will destroy the rice paper and with it, the burdens written there.

Bluebirds Along the Parkway

The Blue Ridge Parkway is one of Roanoke’s great treasures. If you’ve followed my reporting and maybe even some of my activities over the years, you may have noticed that it’s a resource I’ve always enjoyed.

With a natural calling to run, bicycle and more recently, drive my Mini-Cooper, I’ve spent more time on the Parkway than most. Despite the time and mileage logged, I’ve never known the story behind the bluebird boxes that dot the landscape along Roanoke’s section of the road.

Were they maintained by someone? Monitored? A Boy Scout project of some kind? A state or federal project maybe when I was young my folks saying that bluebirds were fussy. Boxes had to be a certain height, face a certain direction and that getting a pair to nest was a great accomplishment. That was all I knew about bluebirds – except that there were these boxes I had run and biked past literally hundreds of times.

It turns out they are maintained by the Roanoke Valley Bird Club, which monitors the boxes during nesting season. Only members of the club or approved volunteers may open the boxes. They count the eggs and the young and turn the numbers over to a larger organization, which presumably puts them in a database to track bluebird numbers.

The Bird Club also works to protect the nests from snakes and other predators who prey upon they eggs and the young. They allowed me to help install a snake guard during our story.

Kudos to Alyce Quinn, who along with her husband and another couple, have been chairing the committee that oversees this bluebird trail and two others in the region. Alyce has been in charge of the trail for 13 of the 30 years the trail has been in existence.

(By the way, Alyce says the birds are not particularly fussy here in Virginia, they just want a nesting site that is safe. She says they depend upon man-made boxes because cavities in trees are too scarce in our modern world.)

When you watch the story – pay attention to the part where Alyce demonstrates her ability to identify the birds in the trees by their songs. It’s clear that the members of the bird club are very good at what they do – and that birding can be a lot of fun.

Next time you’re on the Parkway slow down and take a look at the boxes. You might see a mother bird looking out at you. You’ll definitely see the results of a lot of hard work by Alyce and her team.

Other bluebird information: Virginia Bluebird Society

California Superbike School

Note: The initial blog was in fact written on a smart phone while watching the WWE Smackdown at the Civic Center. Call it bad time management on my part. I am now adding some pix and links. -- jc


Reader beware. This blog is being written and filed from my iPhone. While I am attending the WWE Smackdown at the Roanoke Civic Center. I'll explain later.

Meanwhile, at the track....

Seeing motorcycles buzz by in excess of 150 mph is a thrill. But when you see these guys laying the bike over in the corner, hanging off the seat with an inch of rubber holding the road, it's like watching a magic trick.

This school takes that racer's ability to handle a bike, to the realm of everyday safety. The better you can handle a motorcycle, the reasoning goes, the less likely you are to wreck.

No one knows that better than Keith Code, a cycling icon who has raced at the top levels of the sport. Code has developed all kinds of training tools to help his students "get it."

The lean bike might be the coolest. He's attached training wheels with hydraulics to one of the school's superbikes. Now to be fair, I want to be clear that students xo not take to the track on this contraption. Instead, under the watchful eye of Code's team, they circle a parking lot at about 30 mph. They lean as if they were going much faster-- with essentially no chance of wiping out. After a few loops the instructor re-positions the rider on the bike. Small adjustments here make a big difference on the track or the highway.

I asked Code why he trains people on the BMW bikes, which are billed as the world's fastest production bikes, rated at 200 mph right out the box. "People think speed and power are dangerous," he said. "They are not.
Our incident rate has dropped by 40 percent since we went to these bikes."

Code even teaches U.S. Marines how to handle bikes so they don't get hurt off the battlefield. "Those guys think they are invincible. We need to give them training to match their confidence," he said.

Most of the guys in this class are far from marines or racers. They were mostly middle aged executives who could afford the roughly $2,200 cost of the two day event. But they were all smiles, hanging out with Code, and learning hang just right in the curves.

Wayne Henderson, Guitar Maker

Update: June 19, 2012.  I am pleased to announce that our TV segment on Wayne Henderson -- the one that accompanies this blog has won an Emmy Award from the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.  It is truly an honor for my photographer/editor Curt Schruth and I to have been able to do a story on a man as deserving as Wayne Henderson and to receive recognition for it.  

It's important to recognize the commitment of Fox 21/27 to this project.  There are very few places in today's television environment where a reporter is allowed to seek out these out-of-the way stories.  So thank you to Fox and to you, the viewers for appreciating our efforts.

The story can be viewed here. http://youtu.be/uFs5WCak_SU




It's hard to figure out how Wayne Henderson can be so humble.

Really. Either it's the best delivery of false modesty I've ever seen, or Henderson is truly gifted.

We know he's gifted when it comes to making and playing guitars. He played in my story, and he plays all around the world. He says younger players are better than he, but that he could once hold his own.

"That's the way it's supposed to be. The young hot player of the day deserves his time. I had mine," he told me when I asked about awards he has won at the famous Galax Fiddler's Convention.

As we reported on TV, Henderson charges only about $4,000 for one of his guitars, even though they often bring upwards of $40,000 on the secondary market. Even though the wait for a Henderson guitar is years -- from four to twenty depending upon whom you talk to.

"I never had any money growing up, don't see much need for any now," he said during our on-camera interview


Who says that?

Yet Henderson walks the proverbial walk. He lives about a mile from where he's always lived and gone to school. He produces masterpieces in a nondescript brick building. It's purely functional. I thought it would be at least, quaint. Take a look at the pictures. Judge for yourself.

As I reported from the Floyd Country Store earlier in May, the key to the popularity and success of the Crooked Road Music Trail and the mountain music it celebrates and promotes, is the authenticity.

I loved the line from the interview in which Henderson recounts having played at Carnegie Hall. When asked where he would play the following weekend he told the fan, "... at the Rugby Rescue Squad."

Now that's a great answer. It's funny. It's Clever. It's quick. It made me laugh, and I'm sure he trying to be funny. I wish I could be that witty. To be clear, Henderson knows it's funny. I'm sure it gets a great smile from anyone lucky enough to hear him tell the story. But I wonder if he was trying to be funny when he answered the question there in New York.

Henderson say he prefers to play the small towns around here. He really doesn't want fame and fortune. He really did keep his day job as a mail carrier for decades even though he could have earned more making guitars -- which he obviously loved.

He thought a pension and health insurance were more important than taking the risk. That's just common sense.

That's just Wayne Henderson.

Every year Henderson hosts the Wayne C. Henderson Music Festival and Guitar Competition on the third Saturday in June at the Grayson Highlands State Park.

The winner receives a Wayne Henderson guitar.

Since the festival began in 1995, more than $57,000 has been awarded to aid young, local, traditional musicians in continuing their music exploration and education.

The Floyd Country Store - Stop #1 on the Crooked Road

When you visit just about anywhere as a tourist, you feel like you’re looking at someone’s idea of what life is supposed to be.

Take a Crackerbarrel Restaurant. The food is great. The country theme is well done – the rocking chairs are a nice touch—but at the end of the day, it’s a new building made to look old.

Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville Restaurants. The one in Key West – though yes, it is a tourist trap, feels so much more legit than the one at Myrtle Beach, which feels like it could be in a mall just about anywhere. Nice experience, but it's like it's once or twice removed.

But that’s the way most things work. Someone comes up with a theme, a show, an attraction of some kind, and then people will come to sit and watch it.

Here’s where I think the Crooked Road, and in particular the Floyd Country Store are different. The people who come are only partly tourists. A huge percentage of the people I saw last Friday night were there to participate. Local people enjoying a Friday night like some people only dream about.

The musicians are the core. They come to play. On stage. On the sidewalk. At the barbershop next door, and at multiple other venues. They didn’t come because someone paid them or because they wanted to look cool. This is what they do. The musicians make up a big part of the crowd.

Ditto for the dancers. They wear their overalls and come to dance. It’s not like a bunch of us in suburbia said, “Let’s do something different and go to Floyd and wear overalls like the country people.” These ARE the country people. They are as real as the twisty road from Ferrum called Shootin’ Creek that I drove to get there.

Yes. There are people in the audience who come to sit and enjoy the music. But are they tourists or just folks out for a Friday night in a small town? For the most part, as far as I cold tell they were either locals or people who really enjoy bluegrass music and were willing to drive to hear it.

Now to be sure there ARE tourists. There were people there from Israel, China, Alaska, England. This list of far flug locales is typical. But even then they often came with people who said something to the effect of, "You've got to experience this." Even at that, the tourists don’t dominate. It’s not the bird show at Busch Gardens.

These music venues along the Crooked Road are authentic. That’s hard to describe. These days it's even hard to find. Most things that are authentic just don’t draw people from all over the world. For some reason, this does.

My job as a journalist is to distill this somehow to rise up to 20,000 feet and look down upon the scene, the musicians, the dancers, the people watching them and even the people watching the watchers. What I saw was just plain cool.

No wonder it’s so popular.

By the way the woman in my story playing the Ocarina could have been a story herself. The Ocarina isn't bluegrass -- but it sure is an interesting instrument that Deborah Harris promised me "anyone could play." Click here to find out more about these handmade clay flutes.

Of Bees, Houses and Other Stuff

You don’t often meet people like Jeff and Sandy Jenner. They do things big and they do them well. And as far as I could tell in the small amount of time I spent on their spread in Franklin County, they enjoy every minute of it.

We went there to do a story on bee keeping. I’ve seen the newsroom do dozens of bee stories over the years, but I’ve never done one myself. I figured if I dug around a little, a unique angle would present itself.

I’d say I had half a dozen in the first five minutes.

For a while, I considered not even talking about bees. Jeff and Sandy showed us the mirror garden – it looks the same from both sides of the road. Then came the fabulous Victorian home with an R-50 insulation rating thanks to the concrete walls and two Rapunzel worthy turrets. Of course Jeff designed and built it all himself. Sandy is a master gardener; so all the greenery is hers. And the “gingerbread” trim on this home? Sandy cuts it by hand in her wood shop. Oops, almost forgot. Slate roof – Jeff installed it himself.

See where this is going?

Of course, there would be no bees if Sandy hadn’t planted an entire orchard. It flowered beautifully, but if you watched the story, you know that it produced no fruit. Why – because there was no pollination.

Enter the bees.

Jeff starts raising bees. Gets really good at it. Knows what every bee is thinking every minute of its life from before it is born to the time it dies. He knows how to make hives make queens and queens make new hives.

That’s what we did the story on.

Let’s just say that if ever there is a slow news day, I’ve got a few stories in reserve.

Did I mention Jeff is a master scuba diver?

I neglected to ask Jeff if it was ok to publish his phone number. If you would like to contact him, please e-mail me at carlinagency@gmail.com and I'll put you in touch with Jeff.