This quick cut to Davis saw us winding through the back roads of West Virginia. Route 50 sent us snaking up and over WV's green mountains and deep into her foggy hollers. The path is dotted with several worthy roadside destinations along the way to break up the drive.
Our first roadside encounter was a stop at Our Lady of the Pines: The Smallest Church in 48 States. This is the sort of mid century tourist trap that often appeared along highways like these. Any hobbyist with a bit of ingenuity, a bucket of concrete and a view of a well-traveled roadway could slap together an auto-stopping attraction. This particular construction has been lovingly crafted and maintained with care. The wooded grounds are home to a diminutive chapel and post office. The little church building is as quaint and tiny as a doll’s house. Peek inside and admire the tidy little rows of pews inside the church and the miniature post boxes in the mailing house.
This ramshackle junk shop appears just along Little Sandy Creek in Fellowsville, WV. It doesn’t appear to be any sort of “official” place of business but it seemed that the owners were open to bargaining. If you visit here, I’d recommend haggling with tuna instead of cash. There are no GPS directions to this location and you won’t find it listed on a map but the Fellowsville United Methodist Church would put you in pretty close proximity.
Cool Springs Park is a historic roadside attraction and definitely one worth visiting. There’s a general store packed with odd souvenirs, random camping supplies, huge sacks of potatoes, and a retro dining counter. Outside, there’s an expansive tractor graveyard filled with the kinds of rusty, antique farm equipment that you could lose a few digits to. A couple of shy donkeys duck in and out of the forest. This place is the real deal: a stellar stop on the way to wherever you’re headed. It’s the kind of joint where your grandpa would have bought your grandma a Coke and tried to put his hand on her knee. And if you gave him any guff about that, he’d remind you that it was exactly those kinds of shenanigans that brought you here today.
Our destination for the evening was the Alpine Lodge motel and Sawmill Restaurant. The Alpine Lodge is one of a certain type of Appalachian motel: low and spread out like a setting sun over a big blacktop parking lot. The exterior is an interesting amalgamation of original details and modern fixes. The vintage stone and cedar plank facade have been patched in some spots with paneling, and a few attempts have been made to enclose some of the exterior areas. It’s got all the quirks and charm of an era that was heavy with cigarettes and lawn chairs. Its rooms were serviceable: tidy and careworn. In front of the main motel stand a row of small stone and wood cottages. Travelers could rent these back when motoring was the way to travel, but now they boast “For Sale” signs as lawn decor. Next door at The Sawmill Restaurant you can snag a hearty country-cooked breakfast and lean in on the neighborhood gossip from all the locals. How are the crops doing this year? Have you seen Sandy’s daughter and her new facial piercings? Keeping a biscuit on hand helps curb any unwelcome interjections into sideline conversations.
We finished the evening at the legendary club, The Purple Fiddle, watching the charismatic and talented Willie Tea Taylor perform. We got to touch a little piece of our own nostalgia here. With all of the rush and scramble of the pandemic times, it’s been a little while since we sat in a cafe like this one. I’m sure you know the kind: friends gathering, glasses clinking as they’re filled with coffee or spirits, the warm glow of the stage lights in an otherwise darkened room. It was a welcome backdrop for listening to Will’s voice, at once mournful and celebratory, up and down, kind of like these mountains. After all, you can’t get way up on top of those misty green peaks without first getting down into the holler.
