Highland Outdoors | Summer 2023

This summer, let Mother Nature be your therapist: exquisitely shaped singletrail, sweeping views, and just the right amount of thrills to elevate your heartrate into the “heck yeah!” zone. What’s even more therapeutic? How about a double dose of fresh mountain air, rejuvenating bellyflops, backcountry hikes and mountaintop sunsets? But be warned – prepare for the effects of mountain therapy to be immediate and most certainly habit forming.

Book your lodging with us, and enjoy a free Activity Fun Pass for everyone in your group.

snowshoemtn.com

Start planning your mountain biking adventure.

FROM THE EDITOR

STAFF

Editor-in-Chief, Co-Publisher

Dylan Jones

Co-Publisher, Designer

Nikki Forrester

Copy Editor

Amanda Larch

Pretty Much Everything Else Dylan Jones, Nikki Forrester

CONTRIBUTORS

In the precious months leading up to summer, I anxiously anticipate all the paddling trips, bike parties, weddings, and weekend adventures with friends. My energy reserves are fully charged as I fill in days on the calendar with various commitments. This spring’s slate of activities began with an annual paddling pilgrimage down the Smoke Hole Canyon. Just a few days later, a once-in-a-lifetime snowstorm drove me to call off work, opting instead for a magical cross-country ski tour through the West Virginia highlands. As the weather warmed into the weekend, the snow melted, dumping massive amounts of water into the Cheat River watershed just in time for the beloved Cheat River Festival. We spent two blissful days paddling through the water upon which we had just skied—and summer was still seven weeks away.

Summer can often feel like a humid blur. It’s non-stop activity with few, if any, open weekends on the agenda. Dylan and I frantically pack gear each Thursday evening, only to unpack it all again late Sunday night (which almost always requires the ceremonial hanging of wet gear). It’s simultaneously thrilling and exhausting, and at times, I fall subject to the dreaded FOMO (fear of missing out), wondering what else I could be doing on all those weekends that are already committed to other things, regardless of how fun they are. I often wonder: is it possible to clone myself so I can attend a bike festival, go backpacking, and stay at home reading and tending the garden in the same weekend?

A friend recently told me about JOMO— the joy of missing out. It’s a concept that embraces being present and content in whatever moment you happen to be in. It’s about taking a second to slow down and let go of all the other things you could be doing, regardless of how fun they are. There’s something charmingly appealing to me about this approach, especially when it comes to the seemingly endless opportunities that summer provides. I’m by no means an expert, but as I begin to get lost in thoughts about what my friends are doing and where else I could be, I remind myself of JOMO and it snaps me right back. I eschew the insatiable inner monologue by focusing on each vivid detail of my environment, relishing the fact that I’m in one particular place at one particular time. It’s like putting on a pair of supernatural glasses that transport me from the microscopic depths of my brain to the macroscopic reaches of the external world.

I think part of the joy in JOMO lies in its silliness. The word joy conjures up a sense of youthfulness and pure, unadulterated happiness. It reminds me that, despite my proclivity to get bogged down by to-do lists and long-term goals, I’m still that free-spirited, rambunctious child I’ve always been. So, this summer, I’m embarking on an experiment with JOMO in the hopes of enjoying each experience a bit more fully. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to look back fondly on all the things I did this season—and all the things I didn’t. w

Nikki Forrester

Hope Brooks, Whitney Burwell, Meghan Fisher, Randy Fisher, Nikki Forrester, Kevin Frick, Leiane Gibson, Pat Goodman, Len Hanger, Anne Johnson, David Johnston, Dylan Jones, Jesse Kokotec, Nathaniel Peck, Holly Pittman, Melanie Seiler, Nate Sydnor, Jesse Thornton, Molly Wolff, Joel Wolpert, Jay Young, Nico Zegre

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Please send pitches and photos to dylan@highland-outdoors.com

EDITORIAL POLICY

Our editorial content is not influenced by advertisers.

SUSTAINABILITY

Highland Outdoors is printed on ecofriendy paper and is a carbon-neutral business certifed by Aclymate. Please consider passing this issue along or recycling it when you’re done.

DISCLAIMER

Outdoor activities are inherently risky. Highland Outdoors will not be held responsible for your decision to play outdoors.

COVER

Dominic Colardo running in the 2023 Falling Water 100K in the New River Gorge, photo by Molly Wolff.

Copyright © 2023 by Highland Outdoors. All rights reserved.

Dylan Jones

A butterfly slurps sweet nectar along the Cranberry River, pg. 24.

LIVE Your ADVENTURE

Experience the thrill of whitewater kayaking on the Tygart Valley River at Valley Falls State Park. With four impressive waterfalls, an extensive network of trails and a scenic picnic area – spend a summer afternoon in the midst of adventure at Valley Falls.

Plan your summer trip to Marion County. *Park visitors must sign a waiver to kayak

Beacon Trail

Downtown Martinsburg

Back Creek

NARROWS FOR ALL: CHEAT RIVER TRAILHEAD OPENS FOR PUBLIC USE

By HO Staff

Trail lovers, rejoice! The Cheat River Trailhead celebrated its grand opening in April with a ribbon cutting ceremony and speeches from staffers at Friends of the Cheat (FOC). The site, owned and managed by FOC, was a former coal processing plant that was purchased from Patriot Coal.

According to Owen Mulkeen, FOC associate director, the Cheat River Trailhead was 15 years in the making and is the realization of Keith Pitzer’s original vision, who served as FOC executive director from 2002 until his death in 2009. The Keith Pitzer Pavilion, which is the centerpiece of the site, honors the late river keeper’s legacy.

What once housed a large tipple, coal-washing facility, and rail lines to transport massive piles of coal has been transformed into an outdoor recreation site boasting beautiful green space, restrooms and changing facilities for paddlers, ample parking space, and two

fishing ponds.

Mulkeen, who managed the construction phase of the project, said that FOC was fortunate that the former industrial site did not require cost-prohibitive remediation measures. “We had risk assessments and soil tests completed and didn’t have to take any invasive measures, so we were able to use the site as is,” he said.

According to Mulkeen, the project cost roughly $1.3 million, and was funded through a combination of grants from the West Virginia Brownfields Assistance Center, the WV Department of Environmental Protection Abandoned Mine Lands Economic Revitalization program, the WV Division of Highways Recreational Trails program, and the Preston County Commission.

The Cheat River Trailhead will be the primary access point for the forthcoming seven-mile Cheat River Rail-Trail. FOC plans to open the first three miles of the

rail-trail in 2024, Mulkeen said. The new trailhead site connects to the existing rail trestle bridge, which will eventually be retrofitted to connect to five miles of railtrail on the east side of the Cheat River. “We hope the rail-trail spurs economic development, that’s what lies at the heart of this transitional recreation economy everyone is talking about in West Virginia right now,” Mulkeen said.

The site also serves as the new recreation hub for the Cheat River Narrows, which is a class III section of whitewater between Rowlesburg and Albright. The site offers a safe take-out and parking area for paddlers, fishing access for anglers, and space for live music and other events. “The trailhead is a destination site to hang out and enjoy the green space,” Mulkeen said. “There aren’t a lot of recreational trails like this in Preston County, so this is the first major infrastructure for outdoor tourism that the county has seen in a long time.” w

Courtesy Friends of the Cheat

STATE LEGISLATION SEEKS TO EXPAND ROCK CLIMBING IN PENDLETON COUNTY

By HO Staff

Climbers, rejoi… oh wait, we used that intro already! But rejoice you shall, because private landowners with rock formations who want to allow use of their craggy assets without fear of legal retribution may now do so, thanks to new legislation that was signed into law in March 2023. HB 3560, which was introduced by Gary Howell (R-Mineral County), expands West Virginia’s existing 1931 recreation statute that defines land and recreational purposes to include “rock climbing, rope-related sports, and bouldering activities.” The addition of those eight words allows landowners to enter into access and use arrangements that absolve them from liability while people are recreating on their property.

Laura Brown, director of the Pendleton County Economic Development Authority, said the “rope-related” language specifically includes other climbing-adjacent activities like slacklining, rappelling, and caving. The bill will also allow climbing organizations to utilize rock formations that are on public land, like portions of Champe Rocks, but can only be accessed by passing through private land. “What we’re hoping is when we approach landowners, they’ll see that this legislation was created for them,” Brown said.

Although the bill will protect landowners who allow climbing on their properties across the state, the initial push came from Pendleton Rocks, a group of tourism and development officials in Pendleton County that’s seeking to ignite the region’s outdoor recreation economy by increasing rock climbing opportunities. Pendleton County boasts a wealth of rock formations, including the soaring fins of Seneca, Nelson, and Champe rocks, the extended ridgeline of North Fork Mountain, and crags at Reeds Creek, Franklin Gorge, and Smoke Hole Canyon. The county also features over 300 caves and countless boulders.

“We’re working toward a recreation-based economy in Pendleton County, and this bill is what we need right now,” Brown said. “New climbing businesses can pop up and a plethora of effects can follow. I think it’s made a lot of people in the state take notice of Pendleton County.” w

THE WATER COLUMN

By Nico Zegre

The water column is the expanse of water between the surface and floor of a stream or river. It’s an important place where organisms live, a place where we paddle, swim, fish, and play. It’s where most of the water that we use for drinking, energy production, and food comes from. Starting with this issue, the Water Column is a place where I’ll share the magic of West Virginia’s water by discussing where it comes from, where it goes, what it does, how it’s changing, and why it should be cherished.

When I was learning to kayak in the 90s, I would see a bumper sticker on shuttle rigs traveling up and down I-79 that read “In anticipation of precipitation.” I smiled anytime I spotted one, knowing that with rain comes whitewater. But those four words are more than a kitschy phrase about boating—they provide a way to interpret West Virginia through the lens of water.

Case in point are the 54,000+ miles of streams, creeks, and rivers flowing through the Mountain State that provide billions of gallons of freshwater to downstream ecosystems, communities, and economies. West Virginia’s aquatic circulatory system is fueled by an annual average of 45 inches of precipitation that is uniformly distributed throughout the year.

Most of West Virginia’s weather—and the moisture it carries—comes from the Gulf of Mexico, where water is evaporated and transported northeastward by prevailing winds. When the moisture-laden air collides with the western slopes of the Appalachians, it’s forced upward, where it rapidly cools. Because colder air holds less water, the air becomes saturated, and excess moisture falls in the form of precipitation on the western side of the mountains. With less water weighing them down, clouds are lighter and able to pass over the Appalachians, resulting in a rain shadow to the east of the Allegheny Front. This phenomenon helps explain how Hendricks in Tucker County, one of the wettest places in West Virginia, and Upper Tract in Pendleton County, one of the driest places in the U.S., can be separated by just 30 miles.

Correction

In Opportunity Knocks in our Spring 2023 issue, we incorrectly attributed the top left photo of the Motown Throwdown on page 42 to Andrew Walker. Mick Posey was the photographer of that image. Find him on Instagram: @krogerpickup. Sorry, Mick!

Depending on what side of the Eastern Continental Divide it falls, precipitation will either flow east through the Potomac watershed on its way to the Chesapeake Bay, or flow west to feed the mighty Ohio and then the Mississippi on its way to the Gulf of Mexico. Once the roiling waters reach the ocean, the water cycle is completed, only to restart once again, along with our anticipation of precipitation.

Nico Zegre loves paddling on, swimming in, and telling stories about West Virginia water.

HIGHLAND OUTDOORS WINS BIG

AT WV BUSINESS COMPETITION

By Nikki Forrester

One Thursday evening in October, Dylan and I were pedaling around outside Blackwater Bikes waiting to start our weekly group ride. Our friend Anne Jones approached us to ask if we had submitted our video pitch for the West Virginia Business Plan Competition as it was due at 10 a.m. the next day. Of course we hadn’t; we weren’t even sure if we were going to apply. Anne said something along the lines of, “Come on, you got this! Just film it after the ride in all your muddy bike clothes, it’ll be great!”

We wrapped up the ride, went out to Hellbender for burritos, and popped over to Stumptown for a quick bevy before heading home to crash. The next morning, we woke up to some encouraging GIFs from Anne, put our stinky bike clothes back on, and filmed our video pitch in the rain. In typical Highland Outdoors fashion, we uploaded it just a few minutes before the deadline.

The West Virginia Business Plan Competition is a state-wide program in

which entrepreneurs can apply for funding to launch or grow their business. There are three levels (high school, collegiate, and community), with each group competing through three rounds. In the first round, entrepreneurs create a 90-second video pitch about their business or idea. In the second round, they conduct interviews with potential customers and write a document that outlines their business idea in more detail. In the final round, they submit a full-fledged business plan and prepare a five-minute pitch to present in front of a Shark Tank-style panel of judges. Each round gets progressively more competitive, with just 15 businesses making it to the final round.

We don’t often dive into the details about what goes into running the business of Highland Outdoors, but like so many other small business owners in this state, it’s full of ups and downs. While we’d love to be out biking, skiing, paddling, and doing all the activities we often write about, the reality is that we’re usually on our computers battling it out with account-

ing programs and website snaggles. And by “we,” I mean Dylan, since I spend the majority of my time focused on my science writing career outside of the magazine.

For the most part, it’s just the two of us. We’re so proud of how far we’ve come with Highland Outdoors since 2018, and we’re filled with dreams for the future (a Highland Outdoors office and adventure van—yes please!). But we also struggle with burnout and feeling stretched in a million directions. Each day features some new, unexpected challenge, and there are never enough hours in the day. This is all to say that we’ve been overdue for some help, and the WV Business Plan Competition seemed like a way we might be able to get there.

After eking out a pass to the next round, we conducted a slew of interviews with current subscribers, advertisers, and non-profit partners (a huge thanks to everyone who chatted with us!). Thanks to some favorable reviews from the judges, we moved into round three well-positioned in first place. We created our full business plan and started prepping our pitch, letting the nervous energy build for our final presentation at Bridging Innovation Week, an annual five-day conference that provides educational and development opportunities to entrepreneurs and business owners throughout the state. This year, more than 1,000 participants attended the event at Oglebay Resort in Wheeling from April 17–21.

On April 18, we packed our bags and headed up to the event. The next morning, we wandered downstairs looking slightly disheveled and in desperate need of coffee and breakfast, only to enter a room filled with finely dressed businessfolk. After a hearty meal and just the right amount of caffeine, we returned to our room, got all gussied up, rehearsed our pitch several times, took some deep breaths, and then went back to the conference.

Whitney Burwell

We kicked off the event by doing a practice presentation in front of a panel of reviewers. Then we dropped into the presentation room to watch the first round of pitches. At this point in the competition, businesses are divided into three groups depending on how much money they ask for. I was particularly excited to see a pitch from Adam Payne and his team at YNST Magazine. Anne introduced me to Adam early on in the business competition. He is a fellow print magazine lover, who overflows with infectious enthusiasm. YNST, which stands for You’re Not Seeing Things, is all about highlighting creative voices in Appalachia. Adam gave a phenomenal presentation, painting a passionate perspective on what West Virginia’s arts and culture scene is truly about.

When the first session ended, Dylan and I gave Adam and the YNST crew a huge congrats before dispersing for lunch. We wandered outside, eating and pacing while trying to keep our nerves in check before our big moment. After watching pitches for hand-crafted fishing nets, hydroponic growing systems, and millet cookies, we were called to the front. Dylan and I handed out magazines to the judges before launching into our pitch about who we are and what we do. It was surprisingly fun to be up there, sharing our love and passion for the magazine— and West Virginia—with the judges and audience.

Once our pitch ended, there was nothing left to do but wait for the funding decision, which wouldn’t be announced until dinner that evening. We bumped into the YNST team again and wandered down to the bar together for some decompression aids. We learned about each other’s backgrounds and shared tales of our forays into the world of print publishing. Dylan and I described all the hiccups we faced and lessons we learned over the past five years. They shared their vision for YNST. As they flipped through copies of Highland Outdoors, Dylan and I paged through a draft of YNST’s first issue, nerding out over the superb photography and design.

Over the next few hours, we attended a happy hour social, ate dinner, and then anxiously waited while the event organizers started announcing the winners. YNST won their group, receiving funding to help cover the cost of printing their first issue and launching their website. A few minutes later, the organizers announced we won our group, receiving $19,000 that we’ll use to hire a part-time assistant, raise our contributor rates, rent an office space, and expand our distribution network. Everyone cheered and celebrated, sharing wellearned congrats and taking photos with absurdly large checks.

We departed the event feeling shocked and extremely grateful for the financial boost, which will allow us to achieve some of our big goals for Highland Outdoors. But the best part of this experience was meeting other entrepreneurs who are fully committed to bringing their ideas to life and making their businesses work in West Virginia. Business ownership is by no means an easy feat, but being open about our experiences and knowing there are individuals and organizations willing to help goes a long way. Seeing the response to our award and sharing in the excitement of other entrepreneurs left us feeling motivated and inspired to keep growing West Virginia’s Outdoor Magazine. And, as always, we truly appreciate you for reading along and joining us on this wild ride. w

THE SECOND ANNUAL PHOTO CONTEST

I am thrilled to announce the second installment of our now-annual photo contest. Last year’s inaugural contest was a highly successful endeavor that saw 52 contestants submit a whopping 111 images. I was beyond impressed by the range and quality of the images we received, which kept us judges busy with tough choices and spirited debates while selecting the winners. Thanks again to all the photographers who submitted images in last year’s contest! This year, I’m hoping to see twice the amount of images submitted. I know there are thousands of talented photographers throughout the Mountain State and bordering states, and I am calling on you to send in your best shots—or at least encourage your pals to do the same. You don’t have to be a published photographer to have a chance—we encourage anyone who’s willing to put themselves out there to send in their images. If you think you’ve got a special shot, it’s got a shot at winning. As they say, the best camera is the one you’ve got on you. We’ll publish the winning images in our Winter 2023 issue. If you’re interested in submitting, please carefully read the contest rules. I can’t wait to see what you send our way. Thanks in advance to our judges, and to everyone who submits their photos. Without further ado, let’s, as Steely Dan once sang, go back Jack and do it again!

Dylan Jones, Editor-in-Chief

CONTEST RULES

We know rules aren’t fun, but we live in a society, and we need rules to keep things on track. If you’re planning to submit a photo, please read this section carefully.

We’re West Virginia’s Outdoor Magazine, and our lovely state is worthy of its own photo contest. As such, submissions must be from locations in West Virginia. Any photos found to be from out-of-state locations will be disqualified.

Do not submit an image with a watermark, signature, or logo. This helps maintain anonymity during the judging process. Any photographer who submits an image with a watermark will be asked to remove it and resubmit. If that cannot be accomplished, the image will be disqualified.

We will not accept any photos showing abuse, misuse, or degradation of wild animals, plants, or landscape features.

We will not accept any photos showing illegal activities. If we have reason to question the legality of anything depicted in your image, we reserve the right to disqualify it.

Please do not send photo illustrations or images depicting altered reality. This includes abstract images or clearly altered (Photoshopped) images. Panoramas and composite images are OK so long as they do not clearly misrepresent reality. Any image deemed to be a photo illustration will be disqualified.

If your photo contains a recognizable person or minor under the age of 18, the recognizable person or the minor’s parent/legal guardian must sign a photo release form. If we decide a release form is needed, we will contact you following your submission. This is easy to do and shouldn’t deter you from submitting your photograph.

Anne Johnson

LANDSCAPE ADVENTURE WILDLIFE

Send us your most fantastical photos showing off West Virginia’s beauty. There are only two rules here: locations must be in WV, and there can’t be any people in your images (animals are OK, but photos with a wild animal as the primary subject should be submitted under the wildlife category). Buildings are acceptable if they showcase historic and/or cultural elements or if they are part of the landscape.

PRIZES!

The wildlife category is for, you guessed it, photos of our amazing flora and fauna. Plants, bugs, bears—it doesn’t matter. If it’s wild and it’s living, it’s fair game for your submission! A few rules here: keep it wild! We will not accept photos of domesticated animals, captive wild animals, or wild animals feeding at manmade food sources. And just like the landscape category, no humans!

So, what about us crazy hominids that like to do radical activities in the great outdoors? Cue the adventure category! This is for any photo that shows human-powered adventure in the mountains (no motorized recreation, please). Whether it’s a high-speed capture of a skier, a photo of an angler casting in a mountain stream, or a snap of adventurous souls being dwarfed by our big landscapes, we want to see it!

There will be eight winning photographs. All eight photographs will be published in our Winter 2023 issue.

The overall winner will receive: $300, a one-year subscription, a hat, and a sticker pack.

The overall runner-up will receive: $200, a one-year subscription, a hat, and a sticker pack. Each category winner will receive: $100, a one-year subscription, a hat, and a sticker pack. Each category runner-up will receive: $50, a one-year subscription, a hat, and a sticker pack.

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

» All submissions must be received by August 15, 2023.

» Submit all entries directly via email to dylan@highland-outdoors.com with Highland Outdoors 2023 Photo Contest Submission in the subject line.

» You may submit one photo per category for a total of three photos per entrant. Do not submit multiple photos for a single category.

» Maximum file size: 4 megabytes (MB).

» To ensure that photos are judged fairly, please size your photo(s) for viewing on a screen. Please submit vertical images close to but no larger than 2,400 pixels (PX) on the vertical side. Please submit horizontal images close to but no larger than 2,400 PX on the horizontal side. If a panorama or other oddly sized image is chosen, we will work with you to size it properly for print. We recommend that you apply sharpening settings for viewing on a screen. The DPI/ PPI doesn’t matter if you size your photo properly. Please don’t submit a high-resolution file. If your image is selected, we will ask you to send a high-resolution file with specific parameters.

» We prefer photos to be submitted in the sRBG colorspace. If that’s over your head, or you’re unsure how to change the colorspace of your photograph, no worries.

Photographer’s Rights and Use of Images by Highland Outdoors

The photographer will retain all rights to their submitted photo(s), regardless of selection for publication. If submitted photo(s) are selected for publication, the photographer agrees to grant Highland Outdoors permission to publish the photo(s) in its Winter 2023 print publication as well as the digital version of the article that will appear on www.highland-outdoors.com. Highland Outdoors may use any winning photograph(s) for use in materials promoting our Winter 2023 issue. Basically, we don’t own your photos— you do!

MEET THE JUDGES

I am honored to have a fantastic panel of judges joining me to help select the winning photographs. Each judge brings a unique perspective and set of skills to the panel, and all have had many photos—including cover shots—published in the mag throughout the years.

DYLAN JONES

Dylan Jones is co-publisher and editor-in-chief of Highland Outdoors and lives in Davis, WV, with his wife and mag co-publisher Nikki. He discovered his love of photography while creating over-edited images with an iPhone in the Tetons back in 2013. Nowadays, he enjoys buying fancy camera gear and leaving it home, still bringing just his crappy smartphone camera on all his adventures. Besides Highland Outdoors, he’s had his images published in the National Geographic Explorer’s Journal, Wonderful West Virginia, Harvest Hollow, Adventure Journal, Garden & Gun, and West Virginia ArtWorks. He’s also exhibited images in the annual Cortland Acres Photography Exhibit and hosted his first gallery show last year at Trail Labs in Canaan Valley.

Anne Johnson is a photographer and writer based in Summersville, WV. As a child, she observed her father photographing virgin forests and rushing streams and became intrigued by landscape photography. She loves to photograph the remote waterfalls and sweeping vistas of Dolly Sods, the lush greenery and volcanoes of Iceland, and has a special passion for the unique beauty of lightning and the night sky. Her work has been exhibited at Tamarack: The Best of West Virginia, the West Virginia Culture Center, and the Cortland Acres Photography Exhibit. Her work has been published in numerous West Virginia magazines, including Highland Outdoors, and she is the author of The Last Photographer book series.

NATHANIEL PECK

Nathaniel Peck is a full-time nature photographer currently residing on a small farm in the mountains of Western Maryland. Nathaniel specializes in photographing the dramatic landscapes, wildlife, and caves of the Allegheny Highlands region. He’s been published in several magazines, including The Maryland Natural Resource and, most importantly, Highland Outdoors. Nathaniel has also had his work displayed in the Cortland Acres Photography Exhibit for three years straight. He was the grand-prize winner of both the 2021 Maryland Natural Resources Photo Contest and the 2022 Highland Outdoors Photo Contest. He hopes that photographing this beautiful region can help advocate for the continued protection of our stunning Allegheny Highlands.

JESSE THORNTON

Jesse Thornton is a self-taught photographer who lives in Huntington, WV. What began as a hobby and a means of expression during his travels almost a decade ago spiraled into an independent career as a landscape photographer. His work focuses on highlighting his home state, particularly its dark skies. In addition to having work adorn the walls of countless West Virginia lovers both near and far, he has had work featured in publications such as Wonderful West Virginia, WV Living, Blue Ridge Outdoors, and, of course, Highland Outdoors. He enjoys sharing the knowledge he’s gained of both the camera and the state through teaching classes and leading photography workshops.

ANNE JOHNSON

Courtesy of the judges

Ultrarunners cross one of many falls that adorn the route of the Falling Water 100K, photo by Molly Wolff.

FEET OF STRENGTH

By Dylan Jones

Running is the original human sport. Long before the advent of polyethylene ski bases, carbon-fiber mountain bikes, and, well, shoes, early members of Homo sapiens ran, and ran, and ran some more. We ran to find shelter, ran to find food, and, sometimes, ran from our food. Springsteen famously sang that we were born to run, but really we evolved to run. Unlike our ape ancestors that honed their mammalian bodies for swinging through the trees, we dropped to the great savanna some four million years ago and started extending our legs so we could run quickly, efficiently, and for incredibly long distances.

Perhaps the most revered runners are the Tarahumara people, an Indigenous group residing in the Mexican state of Chihuahua. Raramuri, their name for themselves, means “those who run fast.” Their best runners often traverse distances of 200 miles in a two-day outing.

While most mortals won’t ever hold a candle to the legendary legs of the Tarahumara, throngs of our biped species voluntarily engage in long-distance runs known as ultramarathons. Whether they’re running to prove it to themselves, to learn something from the process, or to go out and beat their competitors, one thing has been consistent for four million years—humans love to run.

A BRIEF HISTORY OF MARATHON

During the Battle of Marathon in 490 B.C., Greek messenger Pheidippides saw a Persian ship retreat toward Athens to claim false victory in the battle in which the Persian army suffered a resounding defeat. Legend states Pheidippides ran the entire 26.2-mile distance to Athens without stopping, dropping his weapons and clothes along the way. Winded and probably bonking hard, he made it to the assembly and shouted, “We have won!” before collapsing and dying from his heroic effort.

Today, one need not strip down and lob their scimitar to run a marathon.

Hundreds of millions of humans have presumably completed a 26.2-mile jaunt since Pheidippides embarked on his glorious gallop some 2,500 years ago. It’s estimated that 1.1 million Americans run a marathon each year.

But at what point does a marathon become ultra? An ultramarathon is any run longer than the standard 26.2-mile marathon. 26.3 miles? Yep, that’s an ultra, although most dignified runners probably wouldn’t feel comfortable claiming that superlative by tacking on an extra tenth of a mile. Most ultramarathons come in 50K (31 miles), 50-mile, 100K (62 miles), and 100-mile distances.

According to serious ultramarathoners, the Western States Endurance Run is the “grandaddy of them all,” a 100-mile affair that retraces the 1955 journey of six horsemen who rode the Western States Trail in California, proving that horses could cover 100 miles in a day.

MOUNTAIN STATE OF MIND

West Virginia is home to a thriving ultrarunning scene, ripe with eclectic individuals traversing the Mountain State’s notoriously steep and rugged terrain. Groups like the West Virginia Mountain Trail Runners (WVMTR) and the Rim to River Endurance Company, among others, have curated ultramarathons that draw runners to joyously jaunt through some of the state’s most beloved landscapes.

WVMTR was founded by Dan and Jody Lehman in 2003 and serves as the main hub for West Virginia’s tight-knit group of ultrarunners. The organization hosts eight legendary foot races—most notably the Highlands Sky, a 40-mile journey through Dolly Sods; and the WV Trilogy, a grueling three-day lineup of a 50K, a 50-miler, and a half-marathon, in that order, held over a single weekend atop Spruce Knob.

WVMTR has nearly 300 members. “We’re a group of likeminded individuals who want to explore the greater outdoors

through running. Our goal is to encourage running and healthy, positive attitudes at races,” says WVMTR vice president Andrew Rhodes.

Rhodes got his introduction to trail running many moons ago at a 5K on Spruce Knob. “It was blistering cold and foggy and icy; I loved every moment of that day,” he says. “Being remote in the woods and disconnected from technology was invigorating. I knew I wanted to come back and do this every year.”

Rhodes continued to up his distance over the years and ran his inaugural WV Trilogy in 2015. Since then, he’s been heavily involved in WVMTR. Nowadays, Rhodes is a father, WVU professor, and co-owner of Neighborhood Kombuchery with his wife Carissa Herman. Given that impressive slate of titles, finding time to race and volunteering with WVTMR can be challenging. “I love this sport because I can go right out my front door. I don’t need a team of people; I don’t need a bag of equipment. It’s just me and a pair of shoes,” he says.

INTRINSIC MOTIVATIONS

It is undeniably impressive that someone can run 100 miles—or even 31—in a single go, but what compels someone to cover such extreme distances? While every race has a winner, many ultrarunners are simply aiming to cross the finish line. Some run for fun while others seek to compete with themselves and push their limits.

WVMTR secretary Charlotte Wales started running marathons in college while living near Boston. When her training started to interfere with her love of hiking in the White Mountains, her husband suggested trail running as a way to do both. “I’d never even heard of the concept of trail running,” Wales says.

Once she got off the pavement and onto the duff, she was hooked. After Wales and her husband ran their first Highlands Sky

a decade ago, they decided to move to West Virginia and now reside in Petersburg. “Those races are what sold us on living in West Virginia,” she says.

Wales competitively raced her marathons but says she approaches ultramarathons with a different mindset. “I just want to go out there and have fun and enjoy the trails, but there are definitely times where it’s a test of how fast I can go,” she says. “My husband teases me because I’d finish a race and pull out my phone and show him pictures I took along the route. He’d be like, ‘Weren’t you in the race?’”

Others are motivated to prove they can bounce back from an injury or from taking time off from running. Some are mothers who aim to race in the midst of the whirlwind that is working and parenting; a handful of those are heroines who embark on the journey of an ultramarathon while raising infants.

Liz Cloak started distance-running at 18. During a half-marathon in Richmond, Virginia, she was encouraged by a man in a turkey suit to skip a marathon and go straight to an ultra. “He was having so much fun, and by the end of the race I really wanted to run an ultra,” she says. When Cloak and her husband Mat moved to Davis, she took advantage of the trails and started training for her first Highlands Sky in 2019. “There’s this

unbelievable ultramarathon right in our backyard. I thought This is my opportunity,” Cloak says. “Where better to train than on Canaan Mountain? Every time that you go out to run, you’re meditating in nature.”

Cloak, along with her friend and neighbor Sara Litzau, were signed up for the 2020 running of Highlands Sky when the COVID-19 pandemic upended society, causing cancellations of the race in 2020 and 2021. The birth of Cloak’s daughter in 2021 put a halt on her running, but when Highlands Sky was announced to return in 2022, Cloak and Litzau—a mother of two—made a pact to train together and go from the couch to the finish line in just five months. “It was super hard,” says Cloak, who hadn’t run in months. “People told me that getting back into running after having a baby is harder than starting in the first place. I would run two miles, but it took the energy that it used to take me to run 10. I couldn’t go out for hours at a time because I was breastfeeding every one or two hours.”

Cloak looked to Litzau and other moms in the area for inspiration that bouncing back from pregnancy—and finding the time to do it—was possible. The pair successfully crossed the finish line, completing their five-month journey. “I look at these women and they are the strongest, most athletic super humans,”

Cloak says. “Because they were by my side when I did it, it made it feel more doable.”

NEED FOR SPEED

Even if most ultrarunners have intrinsic motivations, a select few are in it to win it. Joel Wolpert is one of those competitive and freakishly fast humans. He started running cross-country in high school before getting into trail running. “I was never super-fast as a track athlete, but I found I could maintain road speeds on the trails,” Wolpert says. “I do random acts of weirdness on my birthday, so I scoped out this route that was about 32 miles out and back. I stuffed a backpack full of bananas and Clif Bars, and that was my first ultrarun.”

When Wolpert ran his first Highlands Sky in 2008, he suffered an ankle injury about three-quarters of the way in, but still managed to eke out the win and set a new course record of five hours and 54 minutes. “My calf seized, and I couldn’t flex my foot anymore, so I limped my way to the finish for 10 miles,” he says.

Despite the win, the injury was severe enough to keep Wolpert off the trail for the next three years. In 2011, a runner broke Wolpert’s record, reigniting his competitive fire. “It’s interesting how much gets tied up in something like a course record, which is really just running around in the

Clockwise from left: Andrew Rhodes finds the finish line at the grueling WV Trilogy, photo courtesy WVMTR. Charlotte Wales joyfully jaunting through West Virginia, photo courtesy WVMTR. A runner ascends the “road across the sky” in Dolly Sods, photo by Joel Wolpert. Liz Cloak and her family are all smiles after she finishes the Highland Sky, photo courtesy Liz Cloak.

mountains for a few hours, but I was definitely invested in it.”

The 2015 running of Highlands Sky took place on a cool, wet day. Eschewing the sub-par trail conditions, a well-trained Wolpert persevered through the steep climbs, creek crossings, and knee-deep mud synonymous with Dolly Sods. “It was probably the most fun I’ve ever had in a race,” he says. “I had trained much smarter and my body wasn’t so beat up going into it. What I learned in healing was the mental power that you have over your body.”

Wolpert finished his 2015 run in just five hours and 44 minutes, which equates to an astounding average of an 8.6-minute mile over the grueling 40-mile course. “I want to keep the record as long as I can,” he says.

Ultimately, records are made to be broken. It’s likely that some young gun will eventually swoop in and set a new course record. If that happens, will Wolpert tighten up his laces and go for it again? “There would definitely be that compulsion, but I think I’d only give it a shot if I had a chance,” he says. “I’m sure there are faster people, but there are so many races now that the main reason why my record could stand is because Highlands Sky is an undiscovered gem of a race in West Virginia, and I kind of like it that way.”

GORGEOUS ENDURANCE

If Highlands Sky is a gem, the Rim to River 100 is a diamond in rough terrain. The race, which became the state’s first 100-mile ultramarathon in 2020, is the brainchild of Bryant Baker, who founded the Rim to River Endurance Company with his wife Laura that same year. The Bakers and their team host three ultramarathons that traverse the storied landscapes of the New River Gorge: the Cabin Fever 50K, the Falling Water 100K, and the epic Rim to River 100.

In 2010, the Bakers thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail and Colorado Trail. Baker recalls thinking If I can hike 20-plus miles a day with a 40-pound pack, I should be able to run a marathon . After he ran his first road marathon, he met Boog Ferrell, a Texas-based ultrarunner, at a mutual friend’s wedding. By the end of the evening, Ferrell had convinced Baker to join him for the 2015 Bandera 100K in Texas. “It was one of the most empowering experiences to make myself move for over 62 miles,” Baker says.

Baker, who’s been a whitewater rafting guide on the New and Gauley rivers for 20 years, is passionate about sharing his love for West Virginia. While running the rugged trails of the New River Gorge, he realized he could string together an epic 100-mile route with 13,000 feet of elevation gain. “It’s such a gorgeous landscape. The climbs aren’t huge, but they’re straight up. It’s rooty and rocky, and it can beat you up for sure,” he says.

When Baker announced the Rim to River 100, Ferrell was one of the first to sign up. “I love covering ground and seeing wild country,” he says. “It’s about suffering together and being miserable in beautiful places with friends.”

He made his first-ever visit to the Mountain State for the inaugural race in 2020 and “fell in love with West Virginia.” Ferrell, who has numerous ultras under his belt, was impressed with Baker’s race production skills. “Bryant has the logistics down; it didn’t feel like it was his first race,” he said.

But perhaps most precious to Ferrell was his reception in the

After a day of exploring in the nearby Monongahela National Forest, there’s no better place to unwind and dine than with a stay at the Hermitage Inn and Taphouse in Petersburg, WV.

town of Fayetteville. After all, Ferrell’s nudge for Baker to run the Bandera was, in a way, the genesis of the Rim to River Endurance Company. “It seemed like everybody in town had heard the story of how I talked him into doing Bandera, and I immediately felt super welcome, like I was part of a big family,” he says.

Although WVMTR’s events have been wellknown among Appalachia’s hills and hollows for decades, the Rim to River 100 made reverberations through the national ultrarunning scene, and the century race is now a qualifying event for the Western States Endurance Run. “I think having that 100-mile distance in the state is a draw that will expose a lot of people to how awesome it is to run here,” says Baker.

ULTRA PAINS, ULTRA GAINS

Talk to any ultrarunner, and they’ll undoubtedly mention that, at some point, the experience simply sucks. Cramps, blisters, torn tendons, dehydration, even vomiting or collapsing—these physical maladies are all commonplace when pushing the body to the limit. Not to mention the mental rollercoaster involved in a long-distance outing. “The first time you run a 50-miler, you’re an absolute wreck afterwards. Good luck walking down the stairs,” says Wales. “But the second time you do it, it still hurts, but not nearly like it did the first. The body just adapts to it.”

How do runners cope with the inevitable physical and mental discomfort? From singing songs and gratitude practices to gummy bears and creek dips, every ultrarunner has their unique strategy to muddle through. “I just remind myself that everything, including the highs and the lows, will pass,” Wales says. “When you’re feeling really great out there, enjoy it, because it’s not going to last.”

When Ferrell gets into a slump, he shifts his perspective to one of gratitude. “A negative mindset can wreck your mental state, so I compartmentalize and focus on things I can control,” he says. “Don’t waste time wishing your feet felt better or the weather was cooler; just accept what is. A big lesson from the Rim to River is to be thankful for things like the views or getting to see the bridge.”

If you’re not properly fueling your body, no amount of mental gymnastics can keep you moving. But everyone’s needs are different to avoid the dreaded bonk. From salty versus sweet to Gatorade versus plain ol’ water, personal preferences are paramount

for success. “One of the biggest factors that will keep somebody from finishing a race is their ability to take in nutrition,” says Baker. “Once your stomach turns and refuses to take in calories, your clock is ticking.”

“The easiest food item for me is gummy bears because they go down easy,” says Wales. “The first time I tried a 100K, I thought it would be a great idea to run the whole thing on just energy gels. I dropped out at mile 40 because I couldn’t stop puking.”

Ferrell gained invaluable insight by volunteering at aid stations—sites where volunteers dole out food, drinks, and any other needs to ultrarunners. “It’s like an accelerated learning course on nutrition because you see people in various stages of falling apart or feeling strong, and you can learn from their choices,” he says.

According to Wolpert, the real key is managing heat. “It comes down to who can tolerate the most dehydration while keeping their core temperature at a functional level. I dunk my whole body in creeks when I can,” he says.

KEEP ON KEEPIN’ ON

When it comes to completing an ultramarathon, the juice is indeed worth the squeeze. Finishing is the goal, but most ultrarunners love the full process—self-discovery and learning are common themes. “Finishing a race is a big accomplishment, but the journey to get there is the most enjoyable part for me,” Cloak says. “There’s always an obstacle during a race, and it’s an opportunity to see how you handle adversity.”

Others want to keep putting one foot forward as long as they can. “I was training a year and messed myself up pretty good,” says Wales. “When running was taken away, it was terrifying because I want to be one of those people that will run forever.”

Although Baker doesn’t race much these days, he relishes facilitating epic experiences for those who test their mettle in his events. “Rarely do we get to see something we’ve dreamed about come to fruition in the same way we dreamed about it,” he says. “I never thought I’d be a race director, but it’s become one of my favorite roles to host runners and see them come push themselves in a place I love.” w

Dylan Jones is co-publisher of Highland Outdoors and once ran eight miles without stopping. He was unable to walk for several days afterwards.

Top to bottom: A runner basks in golden light at the Rim to River 100, photo by Molly Wolff. Joel Wolpert sets the record at the Highland Sky in 2015, photo courtesy WVMTR. Bryant Baker makes a media appearance during the Rim to River 100, photo by Molly Wolff. Boog Ferrell during the Rim to River 100, photo by Jesse Kokotec.

LIFE ON THE CRANBERRY

Words and photos by Kevin Frick

I’m not exactly sure where I am. I wouldn’t say I’m lost just yet, but I’m a little unsure of my current location. I think I took a wrong turn on an old logging road somewhere between Summit Lake and the Cranberry River. Wrong turns are easy to do here.

The Cranberry Wilderness and Backcountry areas comprise over 60,000 acres across some of the most remote land in West Virginia. The terrain is rugged, the brush can be thick, and the trails are often overgrown and covered with massive deadfall. There is no cell phone service, and route finding is difficult.

I could easily retrace my steps, but it goes against my religion somehow. Much like in life, I have an idea where I want to go and stubbornly think I can get there if I persist long enough. I’m pretty sure if I continue north and go down in elevation, I will eventually find the familiar waters of the Cranberry River. The number of cliffs, boulder fields, rhododendron thickets, and greenbrier thorns I will encounter along the way, however, remains to be seen. Being a little lost off-trail here can conjure mixed emotions. I feel a combination of adrenaline and apprehension due to my uncertain location, a pang of excitement for exploring a new area, and the familiar feeling of peace that comes with complete solitude.

My feet are getting tired and my back is starting to hurt, but given the position of the sun through the trees, I think I need to better understand my location before I stop for a snack. I can spend the night if absolutely necessary, but a bivvy is certainly not my preferred plan for tonight. After several hours of bushwhacking, my photography gear is getting heavy. I learned long ago that when I go places without my camera, I might regret it. Oftentimes I won’t take a single photograph during my wanderings, but I always like to know that I can explore with the lens if I should so choose. The camera, much like this place, has become an integral part of my healing.

Three years ago, amid the COVID-19 crisis, I moved from the bustle of Clarksburg to a little cabin on the top of Cranberry Ridge in search of safety and solitude. While I found both of those, I also discovered a sense of place filled with wonder.

High up on the ridge, Lucy and her fawns, Dewy and Lewy, wait for me to pull into the driveway like clockwork. On rough and rainy days, I consider going straight into the cabin, but

they tilt their heads with longing, knowing full well I will capitulate and serve them the corn feast on which they have been patiently waiting. The hummingbirds are buzzing about and the woodpeckers are squawking in anticipation of their meals as well. It’s been a while since Teddy, the timid young black bear, has visited my homestead. I hope he shows up soon; I miss seeing him. Admittedly, these wild creatures have become my friends. They are easier for me to understand than most people. I find them predictable and comfortable. Their reactions are usually a direct result of my actions. If Teddy bolts for the woods, it is almost certainly because I made an abrupt movement, not because of some complex emotion or hidden defense mechanism. Most wild animals are programmed to fear humans, but it is possible for them to accept me into their environment. It feels like they can sense a purity of purpose and quietness of spirit.

The few people I do see here, though, are typically kind and happy. I have chats with the occasional hiker, bear hunter, or family camping along the river, but most often I converse with fisherfolk during trout season. The fishing here is tight and somewhat difficult, but the Cranberry and the Williams rivers are some of the best trout waters in North America. When I ask about their luck, I’m often greeted with responses such as, “No, but it’s just nice to be back here on the river.” Indeed, it is. I’ve found that these woods and waters have a way of uniting people of disparate backgrounds and beliefs. Most people come here looking to connect with nature, away from the stress of busy lives. They seek simplicity, adventure, and rejuvenation. I am blessed to live in this reality every day.

When I first moved here, I went online in search of guidebooks, maps, and other literature to support my early exploration efforts. I was surprised to find that very little has been documented about the Cranberry area. Aside from sections in hiking guides, historical literature focused on the logging industry, and pamphlets produced by the US Forest Service, there seemed to be few resources compared to other places I have explored. Perhaps most surprising to me was that I found very few photographs of this area, which I find so beautiful. As I explored the area more, I began to understand its unique challenges: limited access, a lack of amenities, and difficult light for photography. The wildlife is spread out and hard to locate. I found that these difficulties are what make the Cranberry so unique and under-documented. I began to understand that to get to know this place, I was going to have to truly explore it myself.

I think I’m a little less lost now. I have worked my way down to a large stream. I don’t see a trail just yet, but I have a strong feeling this is Dogway Fork, which flows north, to greet the Cranberry River. I feel comfortable enough with my location to take a rest and have my dinner. I spot a lovely flat rock in the stream upon which to dine; I keep my boots dry by hanging them from my neck while I wade through the cold water. The pungent smell of my boots aside, this place is paradise. The stream is cold and clear, and I see crawdads scurry away as I make shuffling steps through the thigh-deep stream. I tread carefully as falling in with my camera gear would be less than ideal. Once I reach the rock, a strange mixture of warmth and coolness greets my bare feet. I lean back on my pack and enjoy my Slim Jim and pepper cheese. I am drawn in by the sounds of the stream and forest. The breeze buzzes gently through the leaves while birds scatter debris in search of a meal. The lush greens of the forest seem to hypnotize me. I suddenly feel perfectly at ease.

As the moments pass, I notice tears welling up in my eyes. I’m not sure of their origin, but I believe them to be a simultaneous mixture of pure joy and desolate sadness. I’ve been dealing with a lot lately, including the overwhelming death of my father and the loss of some of my mobility due to an unfortunate head-on meeting with a logging truck. This forest has a way of making me feel small and reminding me of my mortality. I allow it to hold me in ways I have forgotten how to be held by people. Here in the forest, I don’t fight the tears or the laughter; I just let them happen. There is no judgment here.

In the midst of this moment, I suddenly notice a unique pattern in the flow of the stream around the rocks. I examine it more closely; it appears as if a beautiful woman wandered into the stream and then laid down in perfect, peaceful resignation. She means something special to me; I take a moment to reflect upon her acceptance and grace. I decide to take out my camera and compose an image, trying to be part of the scene rather than just capture it.

This is how my photography has evolved throughout the deep woods and clear waters of the Cranberry River. It has become about me exploring my inner landscape and this beautiful place more than just capturing the perfect image. It’s about finding the simple beauty that I would have once walked right past. It’s about waiting patiently for days along a stream bank to catch a glimpse of a river otter or an American mink. It’s about seeing a pattern in the water and feeling it touch my soul. It is about me learning to share my feelings more honestly, both with myself and the world. It’s about being in the moment rather than chasing it.

“I began to understand that to get to know this place, I was going to have to truly explore it myself.”

I first started taking photographs a decade ago. Following a bit of a mid-life crisis, I was feeling depleted and empty. I decided to search for something to fill the void, something that would provide me purpose and peace. I probably considered a Corvette, but it seemed too costly. When I thought back on what I wanted to do as a child, I remembered wanting to be a National Geographic photographer. I bought a used camera on eBay and started watching YouTube videos about photography. I fell in love with the process and started chasing light (which is often fleeting in the rain-soaked and tree-covered hollers of West Virginia).

I have always enjoyed the wild, so it was natural for me to fall into nature photography. As a child, my safe place was in the woods. There was no anger, judgment, or criticism there, just adventure. I never felt “less than” among the trees; we were just there together, sharing that sacred space. As I grew, I started hiking, backpacking, caving, and exploring West Virginia’s ancient, rugged landscapes. I found that it gave me a sense of identity and provided places where I could relate to people and myself more than in the bars or malls. I got to know the forest and rivers, but somehow, I never explored the Cranberry River until moving here.

Now, I find myself at the river or in the woods almost every day. Sometimes it’s for an hour after work, other times I’m gone for days in the depth of the wilderness. There is such an unspoiled, understated beauty here. In one of my many tattered hiking journals, I wrote the words “Simple steps with God.” Those four words summarize my countless hikes here, including everything from the quiet, repetitive movements of my feet through the moss-covered roots of the pines to the quick jumps from rocks into the cooling waters of the river. No matter what I’m doing, the beauty is always there. What I have discovered is that I just have to get out of my own way to fully experience it.

When my soul is quiet and honest, I can see the simple patterns in the apparent chaos. I can find clarity in the frigid air or splendor in the paths of bugs above the river. I just have to see it and feel it, to let the pain and self-judgment go. When I become part of my surroundings and begin to truly experience the wild is when I notice the millipede on the bark or the turkey claw on the downed tree. This is when I see her beauty. For me, photography is a way of kneeling and kissing the ground, of celebrating beauty, and of helping others to experience it, too.

My hope is that my photographs will help people cherish this place in the way that I do. That they, and their children, and their children’s children, can find hope and healing along the banks of this pristine river and in the depths of this magical forest. That they can see the beauty in this place that I now can see more fully in myself and everything around me.

…

As I cross the remainder of the stream after my dinner, I see a lovely doe sipping from its banks. She pauses when she spots me before snorting and running off. Part of me still wishes I had gotten to photograph her, but I am learning to let that go and be glad that I was privileged enough to share this moment with her. On the other side, I discover an overgrown logging road that leads me down to the familiar scene of the Cranberry River. I will enjoy her waters, carefully cross them, and then head back up Fishermans Trail, arriving at the truck shortly after dark. Lucy will be waiting, like always, for her late dinner. What a privilege it is to be a little lost in this sacred place; what a joy it is to have found myself again. w

Kevin Frick is an expressive arts photographer who promotes conservation, exploration, and mental-health awareness. He also takes pride in his roles as a teacher, therapist, and father.

THE SALVAGE YARD

FERRETING OUT FIRST ASCENTS AT THE NEW RIVER GORGE

WORDS BY NATE SYDNOR

PHOTOS BY PAT GOODMAN

“You know where I’m going, right?” I asked.

“I got you,” my friend Matt Carpenter said, nodding in affirmation.

It was a crisp, spring day, and I was perched on the headwall of a hundred-foot cliff on the Bridge Buttress overlooking the New River Gorge, trying to recover at a rest before embarking up a new rock climbing route I had been working on for a month. With impeccable stone and gorgeous views of the New River Gorge and its namesake bridge looming in the background, the beauty and accessibility of the striking Bridge Buttress is unrivaled.

Matt volunteered to film the first ascent attempt. I was halfway up the route, shaking one arm and then the other to get some life back into them. The initial part of the route was not the hardest, but it was steep and difficult enough to sap my energy, especially when paired with my nervous anticipation of what lay ahead.

As I set off from my rest stance, I executed each move with precision, finding every minute foot and handhold I memorized in prior rehearsals. Although the sequence of movements was still quite difficult, I was able to exert just the right amount of grip strength and body tension to stay on the wall. I found myself at the end of a traverse, but alas, a foot was firmly planted on the final handhold that would be my salvation. Matt was filming right above me, standing on the only place I knew I could safely reach. My heart rate instantly spiked.

“You’re on my handhold!” I yelled desperately.

Matt, dangling from a rope, shifted in his harness just enough to allow me to move upwards, but the adrenaline that was now flooding my bloodstream was already taking effect. I was over-gripping, and my foot slipped as I pawed my way to the next large handhold. Meer millimeters from falling, I reached the rest stance that allowed me to fully recover for the final, easier section of the route. By this point, I thought I had the route in the bag, but as I climbed from stance to stance in the evening light, my hands began to open involuntarily on the holds.

I was fighting gravity in every movement on terrain on which I had never fallen. A fall here would mark the end of the day, as I would be too exhausted to try again. Calming myself through my breath, and with Matt’s vocal reassurance that I could finish the route, I did my best to repeat my rehearsed movements. But due to fighting the fatigue, I pulled through every move in a way I hadn’t before. With the knowledge that there was a good, final hold onto which I could grasp, I scrapped my way to the top. I tried to bump Matt’s outstretched fist in celebration but couldn’t even get mine to close. At that moment, Bridge at Bardo (5.12a) was born. As with each first ascent I’ve completed, I began the climb with near certainty yet still encountered the adventure of the unknown.

Left: Nate Sydnor on his first ascent of New River Punks (5.11) at the popular Junkyard Crag.

Previous: Sydnor on Windbag (5.12a), his salvaged route at Beauty Mountain.

NEW BEGINNINGS

I was raised in southwest Virginia near Abingdon. I started climbing in the New River Gorge region after grad school in 2006, but it wasn’t until 2017, following a series of unfortunate events, that I began visiting more often. I got divorced, some close friends tragically lost their lives, a series of disasters wiped out many of my climbing heroes, and I was burned out from years of being overworked running an outdoor guide service in Utah.

As the years wound on, each time I visited the mountains of Appalachia, I felt myself drawn back, seeing the beauties of this region in an entirely new light. The wonders of the forested hills always contrast starkly with the wide-open expanses of the desert. After 20 years out West, I sought refuge back home in Appalachia.

I quickly felt at home thanks to folks like the late, great Dr. Paul Nelson and Pat Goodman. Pat is a fellow well-rounded climber with a heart of gold and a penchant, like me, for strong opinions regarding nearly all things climbing. He’s also one of the most prolific New River Gorge first ascensionists and my main source of new route suggestions. Dr. Nelson, who passed away suddenly in 2021, shared many of my own quirks and opinions as well. When I saw how the community here embraced him, I thought that perhaps it could embrace me, too. Paul was a great friend who graciously invited me to dinners at his house right after we met. We climbed together as often as possible, and he guided me and my friends from Moab on our first trip down the intimidating whitewater of the Lower New River. I think of him often and wish he was still here to enjoy these days with me.

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

When I settled down in Fayetteville in 2019, I began avidly searching for new routes. I often found them hidden in plain sight at some of the most popular cliffs at the New, crags with routes established as far back as the 1970s. At the Junkyard Wall alone I established five new routes over the past two years, none of which are more difficult or dangerous than many existing routes. Why they had not been climbed before remains a mystery, but I observed a similar phenomenon in the desert.

Sometimes I ventured into the furthest reaches of some desolate canyon, only to spy a piton—a relic of a bygone era in climbing—or some other indication that another explorer had already been there. Other times, I walked the towering sandstone cliffs of Indian Creek—some of the busiest in America—only to find an undone route smack between the classics.

My experience at the New has been remarkably similar: salvaging new routes in areas that previous explorers either didn’t envision or overlooked in their pursuit of other climbing challenges. Over the years, I found amazing routes at the Junkyard Wall, Beauty Mountain, Summersville Lake, and most notably, the Bridge Buttress crag.

ALL IN THE HEAD

The routes I found all took some ferreting out, though. I spent many days alone in the vertical world, rappelling in to inspect swaths of stone that looked promising from below or were suggested to me by Pat.

Uncovering Bridge at Bardo was no different. A friend of mine had been trying Gag Reflex (5.12d), a very difficult route on the Bridge Buttress that was first climbed by legendary climber John Bercaw in the 1980s. My friend’s efforts on the route, combined with a few of Pat Goodman’s photos of the process, brought that stretch of stone to my attention. Despite Gag Reflex sitting front and center at one of the region’s most popular cliffs, it has purportedly never been repeated because of its difficulty and complexity.

When I looked closer at Gag Reflex , I noticed a parallel line just twenty feet to the left. Immediately intrigued, I returned to start trying the moves. My first attempts of this new route employed the “headpoint” method to suss out the complex logistics of this wandering line and decipher the sequence of movements that would ultimately grant me passage. For

readers unfamiliar with the term, a headpoint is a lead climb of a route that was previously rehearsed while tied into the safety of a top-rope. The head-point style is most often employed on routes that have a significant danger factor, leaving climbers with naught but their wits, memory, and skill, and usually a single piece of protection or two to keep them just safe enough. I use the head-point method because many of the routes I choose to undertake have just enough placeable traditional gear to keep me safe in the event of a fall.

I completed the first ascent of Bridge at Bardo in February of 2023. Much like Gag Reflex , but a bit easier, it requires two ropes due to its wandering nature, an array of gear, good planning, and a bit of mental fortitude. Bridge at Bardo represents the tour de force in my New River climbing career to this point. Like the Tibetan in-between realm of the bardo, the route

lay dormant between the classics, and the line itself is as stunning as the French actress to which the route’s name alludes.

Climbs like this don’t come along often, but I’ve been steadily picking away, as have many others. I feel a deep sense of gratitude for the ability to seek out, much less climb, amazing new routes in a landscape that has been a climber’s paradise for generations. Being a part of this special place and its community is a deeply gratifying privilege. If you have the heart of an explorer, many an adventure awaits you here at the New, whether you’re seeking out these new routes or countless others on which to have your own voyage. w

Nate Sydnor is an Appalachian-born climbing guide and former guide service owner. He’s currently enjoying some time off and figuring out what he wants to be when he grows up.

Nate Sydnor ascending Bridge at Bardo (5.12a), his magnum opus at the Bridge Buttress.

EBBS & FLOWS

Seasonal Outdoor Recreation Businesses in West Virginia

By Nikki Forrester

Editor’s Note: This is the second story in a series about the outdoor recreation economy and its role in shaping the social, cultural, and physical landscapes in West Virginia.

In early April, Patrick McCann drives down to a large, white house on the banks of the Cheat River in St. George. He attempts to start up shuttle vehicles that haven’t run since last October. He inspects rafts, kayaks, canoes, stand-up paddleboards, and inner tubes, ensuring that they’ll be ready to go when the water levels rise and customers start calling.

Come July, McCann will be working 50 or 60 hours a week, organizing trips and managing business operations. “I like the controlled chaos of busy season,” he says. Within the span of just six months, he and his team of 15 employees will help thousands of people float and paddle down the Cheat River before closing the doors of Blackwater Outdoor Adventures (BOA) for the winter.

McCann, who became the owner and operator of BOA in 2005, is far from alone in his experience as a seasonal outdoor recreation business owner in West Virginia. With four glorious seasons and countless places to explore, there are ample opportunities for people to launch and sustain outdoor-oriented businesses in the Mountain State.

Operating an outdoor business on a seasonal cycle is no easy feat. From permitting hurdles and staffing struggles to cash flow hiccups and long hours, owners must continually persevere to keep their businesses afloat. “At this point, I thought I would be able to take a bigger step back than I have. I’m still cleaning toilets and emptying trash cans. It’s not always as glamorous Jay Young

Right: A rainbow medley of cruisers at Greenbrier Bikes in Marlinton.

Previous: A cadre of paddleboarders spend the day on Summersville

Lake with Meghan Fisher, founder of Mountain Surf Paddle Sports in Fayetteville.

as being an owner of a recreation company sounds,” McCann describes. But to many, including McCann, it’s worth the effort. “I like introducing people to water and providing them with an experience that might help them become stewards of the river and fall in love with the natural environment.”

GREASING THE WHEELS

A dedication to helping people play outside and develop a sense of appreciation for the natural world drives many to start their own outdoor recreation businesses in West Virginia. And the number of people willing to take the leap has steadily grown. “We’ve helped more recreation businesses in the last two years than we had before,” says Emily Wilson, director of partnerships and programs for Woodlands Development and Lending, a non-profit organization based in Elkins that provides capital and technical assistance to support small businesses and entrepreneurs.

Wilson also oversees Woodland’s Mon Forest Business Initiative, which offers free business coaching and funding assistance to any business within the 10 counties that span the Monongahela National Forest. The initiative aims to “help entrepreneurs get started, grow, and diversify so they can support our whole community,” she says. Since its launch in 2018, the Mon Forest Business Initiative has helped nearly 200 businesses.

One new business neighboring the Monongahela Forest is Greenbrier Bikes in Marlinton, which is owned and operated by Scott Guyette. Ever since Guyette can remember, he’s had a passion for bikes. “It all started when I was seven or eight. I would get bikes that were being thrown out at the landfill,” he says. “Out of five or six of them, I’d make one of them work.”

Guyette grew up in upstate New York, fell in love with mountain biking in college, and has been crafting a

career in the bike industry ever since. He spent time as a mountain bike guide in Las Vegas, then as a bike shop manager in Montana, before moving to West Virginia in the summer of 2011 to run Snowshoe’s mountain sales department. Although he had never been to the state before, he immediately fell in love with Pocahontas County. “The days are cool and the nights are cooler. It’s always beautiful,” he says, “I can’t imagine living anywhere else now.”

Five years later, tired of sitting in an office, he decided it was time for a career change. There was growing momentum among various local groups, including Snowshoe Mountain Resort, the Pocahontas County Convention and Visitors Bureau, and Pocahontas Trails, a chapter of the International Mountain Bicycling Association (IMBA), to expand mountain biking in Pocahontas County. “We were all rowing in the same direction,” Guyette says. In 2019, Snowshoe began hosting the UCI Mountain Bike World Cup, and in 2020 the Snowshoe Highlands Ride Center earned an IMBA Silver designation. “It became clear that there was a need in the Marlinton area for a legitimate bike shop.”

In July 2021, Guyette opened Greenbrier Bikes with fellow cyclist and business partner Bob Safrit. There was limited inventory due to bike shortages during the COVID-19 pandemic, but Guyette was able to offer bike maintenance services and some rentals. Despite challenges with cash flow and finding staff, Guyette has expanded the shop’s inventory and hired two part-time employees over the past few years. He’s still getting a handle on when to operate, but says the busy season typically runs from the end of May until early September, when a mix of local residents and visitors come into the shop. “We see everybody from very casual retirees looking to ride the Greenbrier River Trail to World Cup downhill racers,” he says.

Scott Guyette

According to Guyette, seeing the business grow and feeling support from the local community reinforced the idea not only that the bike shop was needed, but that it was a worthwhile endeavor. Along with being surrounded by products he loves, he spends his days interacting with friendly people who frequently share his zest for bikes. “You just gotta take the risk. You don’t have to be a genius, you don’t need to be a millionaire, but you do have to be kind and passionate and work hard.”

PICKING UP SPEED

To sustain a seasonal outdoor business over time, business owners must not only overcome uncertainties in weather, staffing, and customer demand, but also tackle the stress that comes with putting in long hours.

“Everything we do is based around snow. Without snow, nothing else matters,” says Josh Faber, general manager at Winterplace Ski Resort in Ghent. Faber grew up outside of Chicago and started working in the ski industry after college as a way to ski for free. Over the past twenty years, he’s stayed enamored by snow, working at ski resorts in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, Vermont, and New Hampshire before moving to West Virginia in October 2021.

This past year, Winterplace opened December 16, 2022 and closed February 26, 2023. “Weather was our number one challenge; we had three more inches of rain than snow this winter,” Faber says. “It’s a 24 hours a day, seven days a week operation.” Staff make snow and groom trails during the night, and open the slopes to guests from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. every day. Faber says he works at least 12 hours a day and seven days a week during the winter. Although the workload is non-stop, he still takes a few moments to stop and take in the scene. “The high-fives, the hoots and hollers—that stuff’s special. I can go home at night and sleep

well knowing that we’re doing something that’s positively impacting people’s lives,” he says.

Faber notes that finding staff is another major challenge for Winterplace, which jumps from 15 full-time employees in the summer up to over 350 employees in the winter. Most of their staff are new to the workforce or spend their summers working on the river. “It’s a perfect transition,” he says. “We provide them the winter work, and then in the spring, they get a couple of weeks off before going right back to work.”

McCann can also relate to challenges with finding workers and navigating unpredictable weather, as water levels on the Cheat impact when and where BOA can run trips. He says the growing interest in canoeing, kayaking, and tubing on flatwater has helped sustain the business when water levels aren’t sufficient for whitewater rafting trips. But in some of the more challenging years, BOA closed for a few weeks because the water was simply too low to paddle. “If that happens, you just don’t buy new boats and you hope for another good year,” he says.

One of the perks of operating a seasonal business is the ability to slow down during the off-season. “Being able to take a break in the winter and take a step back, you kind of forget that it can be stressful in the summer,” says McCann. In the past, he’s done carpentry and worked as a ski patroller during the winter. Now, he mostly focuses on spending time with his kids.

As winter transitions to spring, McCann applies for whitewater and outfitter licenses and catches up on accounting tasks. Liz Moore, who started working at BOA in 2004 and became the operations manager around 2007, buys items for the retail store, trains the rafts guides, and helps McCann prepare for the upcoming season. Over the past twenty years, they’ve seen BOA adapt and grow. “The popularity of Canaan Valley and where we’re located in Tucker County has been a game-changer for us,” says McCann.

During the winter season, staff at Winterplace Ski Resort in Ghent work around the clock to make snow, groom trails, and curate a good time. Left: Mountain House Studio , Holly Pittman. Right: The Folkway

For those interested in starting new outdoor recreation businesses, he suggests being patient. “Be prepared to dig your feet in and make it work. I recommend it, but it takes time to get there.”

SWITCHING GEARS

Success in the business world can be defined in an infinite number of ways. Sometimes it means starting something from scratch or growing an existing business. Other times, it means knowing when to move on and embark on a new adventure.

In 2015, Meghan Fisher founded Mountain Surf Paddle Sports, a paddleboard rental and guiding company in Fayetteville. “It just all fell in place,” she says. Starting a business had always been in the back of her mind, but it wasn’t until she got an offer to teach paddleboarding in Antarctica that she decided to take the leap. “I did a winter in Antarctica, saved all the money from that, and then used all the money to start the business,” Fisher describes.

During the first summer, she hit a substantial roadblock when she wasn’t able to obtain permits to run guided trips on Summersville Lake. Instead of giving up, she became friends with some folks at the Long Point Grille & Bar in Mount Nebo and set up a tent and trailer next to their parking lot where she could rent out paddleboards. Some days, she’d rent out every paddleboard within a few hours, other days she’d sit there all day with nothing to do. “It was a roller coaster,” she says. “I was doing well, and then not doing well; sometimes I’d come home almost in tears.”

But Fisher stuck with it, obtained permits to work on Summersville Lake and other stretches of water the following year, and watched her business balloon. She went from renting paddleboards on the side of the road to hiring two employees to rent out boards, while she and several guides led trips full-time. Within just a few years, Fisher was leading three two-hour paddleboard trips every day. Then she’d go home and spend three hours returning phone calls from people interested in booking trips. “I would do that every day for three months,” she says. “It’s really easy to get burned out.”

Although putting in long hours was taxing, Fisher thoroughly enjoyed working for herself and meeting people through her business. She picked a price point for her rentals and trips that were feasible not only for tourists, but also local residents. “Tons of people from Charleston would come, especially to do trips at Kanawha Falls,” she says. She also led trips for local Girl Scout troops and West Virginians new to paddleboarding.

Through her business, she met Shannon Peffley, owner of Yogi Expeditions, who began running yoga retreats in the New River Gorge in 2018. Peffley used Mountain Surf Paddle Sports for about four retreats every year. Over time, he began joking with Fisher about being interested in purchasing her business if she ever wished to sell it. She continually told him she wasn’t ready, but in 2022, the winds began to change. She got the opportunity to work as a paddleboard instructor in the Arctic during the summer, and her husband Randy was about to retire. “I could sell the business, work in the Arctic for a month and a half, work in the Antarctic for a couple of months, and the rest of the year Randy and I would be free to travel,” she says.

Fisher visited her accountant, came up with a price for the business, and reached out to Peffley. He purchased Mountain

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Surf Paddle Sports in April 2023 and is now in the midst of his first season. He says one of the biggest challenges with seasonal tourism is not knowing what to expect. “I can look at historical numbers, but there’s no guarantee,” he says. “I think COVID really helped this area grow because people wanted to get outside, but now that everything has really opened back up, especially this year, I don’t know how that will affect tourism.”

While Peffley juggles taking on a new business, Fisher is looking forward to some time off. “I’m really excited to have fun in West Virginia without working this summer,” she says. “People ask if I’m sad or miss it and I don’t. I’m proud of myself for how I built up the business. It’s definitely not easy, but it is pretty rewarding.”

ROOM FOR GROWTH

The COVID-19 pandemic catalyzed an explosion in outdoor recreation and tourism in West Virginia, furthering the state’s identity as a world-class destination and busting open doors for new businesses to sprout. “I think there’s still plenty of room for entrepre -

neurs to start businesses here in the outdoor industry,” says Fisher. “I just hope it becomes easier for people.”

For some people, like John Schmidt, opening an outdoor business in the Mountain State has always been a dream, but the initial hurdles remain too substantial to overcome. Schmidt moved to West Virginia in the early 1980s and spent most of his career working for the US Fish and Wildlife Service in Elkins. In 2010, he became a part-time fishing guide with Elk River Touring Center in Slaty Fork. Along with his love of teaching people how to fish, he appreciates all the places guiding takes him throughout the state. “Trout do not live in ugly places,” he says. On his outings, he observes birds flutter, otters swim, and mink bumble along the river banks before diving in the water to catch crayfish.

Although he’s considered opening his own fishing guide operation for years, he hasn’t taken the plunge. “The reason I don’t have my own shingle is because I can’t afford the insurance,” Schmidt says. “I can do the advertising, I can do the guiding, I can tie the flies for the clients to use, I can provide equipment, but $1,000 or more to invest is not in the cards because I may only get ten or fifteen trips a year. If three or four of those have to go to covering the insurance expense, I might as well just go fishing.”

Several organizations in West Virginia are striving to support the state’s burgeoning outdoor economy, while meeting the needs of those already here. “Sometimes economic development is very focused on bringing in businesses and not as focused on the housing and infrastructure needs,” says Wilson. The biggest challenge she hears from small business owners is that it’s difficult to find workers, and a huge driver of this issue is that potential workers can’t find affordable housing options. Along with providing financial and advising support for entrepreneurs and small businesses, Woodlands focuses on affordable housing as a critical component of economic and community development. “Hopefully we can continue to educate homeowners and the community on why housing is important to workers and to keep the community’s integrity. We can advocate for some local ordinances and regulations that are helpful and fair, while also advocating for major federal regulation changes that would help rural areas develop more housing,” she says.

While some places, like Tucker County, are already feeling the pressure of rising home costs, which were exacerbated by the pandemic, other communities in the Monongahela are well-suited for planning ahead, Wilson says. “They’re not in crisis mode yet. I really hope all the businesses, organizations, and government officials can work together to help some of those communities be more prepared.”

Small business ownership may never be an easy endeavor, but West Virginia’s outdoor entrepreneurs rise to the challenge with the same grit and determination of the generations of humans who have called Appalachia home. “We’ve got so much to offer here,” says Guyette. “This is by far one of the most beautiful places in the world. The weather’s great, the trails are phenomenal, we have all the ingredients, we’re just waiting for that cake to bake.” w

Nikki Forrester is co-publisher of Highland Outdoors. She’s still navigating the flebs and ohs of running a seasonal outdoor magazine in West Virginia.

Top: Meghan Fisher. Bottom: Courtesy Patrick McCann

Top: Molly Wolff enjoys a paddleboarding trip to Kanawha Falls with Mountain Surf Paddle Sports.

Bottom: Rafting guides at Blackwater Outdoor Adventures take thousands of brave paddlers down the Cheat Narrows every summer.

STALKING WEST VIRGINIA’S WILD ORCHIDS

By Hope Brooks

Few wildflowers capture the human imagination like orchids do with their immediately recognizable flowers and alluring scents. Some botanically minded folks like to argue that orchids are the “pandas of the plant kingdom” because they are rare and charismatic plant ambassadors. Indeed, the simplest of the ubiquitous drug-store orchids, which are commonly given as gifts or purchased by the casual enthusiast, are large and flashy affairs. Moreover, mass-marketed soaps, perfumes, and candles boast that they smell like an orchid, and consumers pay

handsomely for them.

In the wild, orchids can be found across all seven continents and even above the Arctic Circle. Orchid enthusiasts tromp through high grass, deep mire, and up steep mountains in search of orchids growing in their natural habitats. Some of my fondest botanical memories entail steep, rugged hikes up and down West Virginia’s finest sloppy, nettle-covered hills in pursuit of some of the state’s smallest and most nondescript orchids, only visible in fall when they put up a single, tanish-yellow flowering stalk.

West Virginia is home to a cast of 45 native orchid species, and each of these orchids has a unique lifestyle that depends upon specific relationships with pollinators and fungi. Due to these special relationships, many of West Virginia’s orchids are rare and very sensitive to disruptions in their habitats. Much like how canaries used to warn coal miners of bad air in underground spaces, our native orchids serve as proverbial canaries, indicating whether habitats are healthy enough to foster orchids, as well as their pollinators and fungi.

Clockwise from top left: Showy lady slipper orchid (Cyprepedium reginae), photo by Hope Brooks; Greater purple fringed bog orchid (Platanthera grandiflora), photo by Hope Brooks; Rose pogonia (Pogonia ophioglossoides), photo by David Johnston; Small spreading pogonia (Cleistesiopsis bifara), photo by Hope Brooks; Nodding lady’s tresses (Spiranthes lacera), photo by David Johnston.

BOSOM BUDDIES—ORCHIDS, POLLINATORS, AND FUNGI

Orchids have notoriously specialized relationships with pollinators. Many orchid species rely upon one or a select few insect species, such as ants, bees, wasps, beetles, butterflies, or moths, to pollinate their flowers (other orchid species have more generalist relationships with pollinators and are visited by a variety of species). In some cases, these relationships can be so specialized that orchid flowers mimic the shape or scent of their pollinators to confuse them into mating with their flowers, only to deposit pollen sacs on the sexually frustrated insects before sending them merrily on their way. For instance, bee orchids of the genus Ophrys have flowers that look very similar to a large bee, and hammer orchids of the genus Drakaea emit the scent of a female wasp to lure male wasps to the flower for copulation and—in the process— pollination.

Often, orchid pollination is symbiotic, meaning that both parties—in this case the orchid and its pollinator—benefit from their interactions with one another. Pollinators help orchids reproduce, creating thousands of genetically diverse seeds that contribute to the next generation. In return, orchids often provide delectable snacks to pollinators like sugary nectar or proteinrich pollen. Although scientists have studied many relationships between orchids and their pollinators, often in orchid species with large, visible pollinators that visit during the daytime, like moths or butterflies, scientists still have not recorded which insects visit and pollinate many of West Virginia’s native orchid species. Because many orchids are scattered across habitats and large landscapes, simply finding them—let alone observing the insects that pollinate them—can be quite challenging.

Today, researchers, including me, and an army of citizen scientists are producing a database of orchid-pollinator relationships throughout eastern North America using motion-triggered video cameras. In the past, observing pollinators depended upon scientists who were willing to sit and watch a flower for hours or days to categorize who visited each flower and what they did, be it a short amble across the flower or an overt act of pollination. Now, thanks to the wonders of technology, we have built nearly a hundred motion-triggered video cameras that allow us to watch orchids throughout their blooms to learn more about their pollinators.

Orchids also have deeply intimate relationships with fungi. In the plant kingdom, many plants associate closely with fungi in or around their roots in a symbiotic relationship called mycorrhiza (this name comes from the Greek words “mukès” for fungus and “rhiza” for root). While plant roots can only spread so far, fungal filaments called hyphae can spread underground for hundreds— sometimes thousands—of feet to scavenge nutrients from decomposing matter in the soil and suck up water for the plants with which they associate. In turn, plants provide their mycorrhizal partners with nutrients and sugars.

Mycorrhizal relationships are critical for all life stages of orchids, from seeds to seedlings to mature plants. Each orchid flower produces thousands of “dust seeds” that are no larger than a speck of dust. These seeds lack the fleshy stores of carbohydrates and nutrients often found in other plant seeds. Fungi penetrate orchid seeds and provide them with the carbohydrates and nutrients they need to germinate and grow before they can feed themselves through photosynthesis.

Even after germinating, adult orchids benefit from their life-long relationship with fungi. Some orchids, like the coral root orchids (genus Corallorhiza), have gone so far as to rely completely on parasitizing fungi instead of growing leaves and photosynthesizing. Other orchids

sometimes go dormant for a single season to years at a time. During dormancy, orchids rely on their own energy stores, but fungi often are the heavy lifters, providing the resting orchids necessary carbohydrates and nutrients until they emerge aboveground again.

In contrast, the fungi appear relatively indifferent to their orchid partners, as they busily decompose woody debris in their habitats or focus their mycorrhizal “attention” on their relationships with larger plants, like trees. For the scientifically minded readers, pardon my anthropomorphizing of plants. As a botanist, I find plants to be my most frequent companions and often lapse into referring to them in humanistic terms.

WEST VIRGINIA’S ICONIC ORCHIDS

In West Virginia and—arguably—across most of North America, perhaps the most well-known native woodland orchid species are the lady’s slipper orchids (genus Cyprepedium) with their namesake slipper shape. Three species of lady’s slipper orchids can be found in West Virginia: the pink lady’s slipper orchid, the yellow lady’s slipper orchid, and the showy lady’s slipper orchid. The showy lady’s slipper orchid is the rarest of the bunch, imperiled by habitat loss across its range.

Any native orchid enthusiast would be remiss if they did not mention other notable species like the nine fringed orchid species (genus Platanthera) found in the Mountain State. The flowers of fringed orchid species vary in color, from purple to orange to white, and even inconspicuous green. I’m working with fellow scientists at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center to study West Virginia’s fringed orchids to understand how flower color influences the relationships between species. This challenging work requires me to observe all the minute details of orchid flowers, from their color to the size, shape, and location of their petals and reproductive organs. But visual observation of flowers alone cannot tell me who has been swapping pollen with whom. For that, DNA analysis reigns supreme. A small orchid leaf tip yields enough DNA to determine each orchid’s parentage, fleshing out a species’ family tree flower by flower.

Other notable orchids in West Virginia include tuberous grass pink orchids (Calopogon tuberosus), rose pogonias (Pogonia ophioglossoides), and small spreading pogonias (Cleistesiopsis bifara), all of which have showy, pink flowers. Hidden across the state are ten species of lady’s tresses orchids (genus Spiranthes), which are characterized by inconspicuous spiral-

A patch of pink lady slipper orchids (Cyprepedium acaule). Photo by Dylan Jones

ing tresses of small, white flowers. Other native orchids in the state are barely recognizable as orchids, such as the coral root orchids, which feature very small flowers and lack leaves.

PROTECTING OUR ORCHIDS

Overall, many of West Virginia’s beloved native orchids are in danger of becoming rare or extinct thanks to the actions of humans. Suitable habitats for orchids, their pollinators, and fungi are being destroyed or restricted as more land is developed for new homes, tourist attractions, highways, and commercial buildings. Even in the absence of land development, the allure of orchids makes them susceptible to “over-loving,” with foot trails to hidden, rare orchids widening each year as enthusiasts are spurred by social media posts to visit these magnificent plants. Some of West Virginia’s showier and endangered orchids are also threatened by poaching, often by well-meaning individuals that are “just taking one home,” only to find that their stolen orchid will not flourish in its new habitat.

Even amidst these threats, there is hope for West Virginia’s orchids. The North American Orchid Conservation Center (NAOCC), which was founded by scientists at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center and at the U.S. Botanic Garden, focuses on orchid preservation via habitat and population protection, propagation of native orchids for restoration efforts, and educational efforts. Citizen scientists are also participating in numerous projects for the betterment of native orchids, from collecting videos of orchid pollinators to monitoring native orchids in their backyards. Scientists, horticultural gardens, and hobbyists are working together to learn how to grow native orchids in the hope that these orchids might replenish depleted populations and provide orchid enthusiasts with ethically sourced plants.

Conserving West Virginia’s orchids is a team effort, and you, dear reader, can help. Go forth and enjoy the wild and wonderful orchids of West Virginia. At its heart, conservation relies on enthusiasm and appreciation. But, to quote some of my favorite frothy adult beverage advertisements, please enjoy responsibly

If you find an orchid in the wild, practice Leave No Trace principles by taking nothing but photos and leaving nothing but footprints. As you explore, tread lightly; each footstep you take can add to the ever-widening trails that show the way to hidden, rare orchids, making access easier for the uninitiated or ill-intentioned visitor. If you share photos online, be sure to remove geo-location tags and other location information. Do not take an orchid home! Because orchids rely upon specific pollinators and fungi, they rarely survive being transplanted, and digging up orchids is often a crime on public lands. If simply enjoying orchids is not enough for you, ample opportunities exist to support NAOCC’s orchid conservation efforts, be it by monitoring orchid populations, assisting in propagation efforts, helping identify orchid pollinators, and more. Happy stalking! w

Hope Brooks is a botanist at the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. You can find her botanizing, exploring caves, growing cucumbers, or enjoying her chaotic cat and menagerie of pet reptiles.

MELANIE SEILER

By Dylan Jones

I first met Melanie Seiler in 2015 at the beginning of the magical summer I spent as a guide in the New River Gorge. Melanie, a world-class paddleboarder and certified instructor, was taking a few of us greenhorns out for a standup paddleboard (SUP) guiding course on Summersville Lake. As we prepped our SUP boards at the boat ramp, we realized that we forgot all the fins, which help the boards track straight in the water. Even without a fin, Melanie looked effortless as she cruised in a straight line with a calm stance. We greenhorns, however, squatted awkwardly on our boards, switching the paddle from side to side as we paddled in what, from the air, must have looked like the flight path of a drunken bumblebee.

From her days as a raft guide and raft racer to her prowess as a river surfer and whitewater paddleboarder, it’s safe to say that Melanie is one of the Mountain State’s foremost aquatic experts. Nowadays, I regularly see Melanie when she ski-patrols at Timberline Mountain in Canaan Valley during the winter. Although we now meet up on frozen water, not much else has changed—her ski lines are smooth and straight, and my snowboard lines are, well, you can guess.

But Melanie’s talents don’t end on dry land: she’s the executive director of Active Southern West Virginia (Active SWV), a nonprofit that improves the health of West Virginians by breaking

down barriers and getting people into the outdoors. I caught up with Melanie to discuss her upbringing in the rafting industry, her love of paddleboarding, and her success with Active SWV. The interview was edited for length and clarity.

What’s your coming to West Virginia story?

I was born in Uniontown, Pennsylvania, in 1979. My mother, Susie Hofstetter, grew up in Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania, and my dad, Robert “Fish” Seiler, grew up in Maryland. They met in Ohiopyle while she was working at Laurel Highlands and he was river managing with Mountain Streams and Trails. In the early 80s, they purchased Songer Whitewater, a rafting company in the New River Gorge, and we moved to Fayette County in 1983.

What was it like growing up in the rafting industry?

The company office was in our house when I was a kid. The mail, phone calls, reservations—everything was going in and out of our home. We leased a separate site for meeting our guests and housing all the rafting gear. My dad, and later my stepdad, worked mostly on logistics with the drivers, guides, and equipment, while my mom ran the office. In 1991, we moved the business to Milroy Grose Road; that was the first time there was a base camp with an office, campsite, boathouse, and everything set up.

Do you remember your first river trip as a child?

We did a float on the Upper New River with my brother, mom, dad, and Grandma and Grandpa Seiler. I was five and my brother was three. I have vague memories of being that obnoxious kid jumping in and out of the boat over and over, splashing around on a beautiful, sunny day. I still have the same life jacket that I wore on that trip; it’s on display in my gear room.

When did you start guiding?

I trained at age 18, and 1997 was my first year, so this year will be my 27th year of guiding. I started out with Upper and then Lower New River trips, then guided Lower and Upper Gauley trips. I also river-managed for several years and really enjoyed pulling the logistics together and working closely with my stepdad, Len Hanger. I coordinated how the rafts were loaded and how the guides were scheduled. The river community has the greatest personalities; it’s like this huge extended family. I’m still in touch with lots of old guides who are like aunts and uncles to me. We still get together most summers for Songer reunions.

What’s your favorite part of river guiding?

My favorite thing is bringing people into that experience and taking them on an adventure where they can forget about their daily lives and become immersed in a beautiful landscape. I love coaching and teaching people, getting them to move the raft dynamically and develop the teamwork it takes to bust through big waves.

How did those early experiences mold you?

There were frustrating times in the first couple years. There were days where I’d come off the river and throw my paddle down, like “I’m not doing this anymore.” But you learn how to work through it, you learn how to give yourself grace, you learn how to say “yes” to the challenge.

Molly Wolff

Tell me about your transition into SUP boarding and river surfing.

When Songer was bought by Adventures On The Gorge, I came into a work environment that was very management-heavy and found it kind of difficult to find an upper level position. But I also saw the opportunity to explore more niche activities. In 2011, I pushed to develop a SUP program right when the sport was taking off in the U.S. It was a way for me to evolve from raft guiding, which was becoming a little mundane, to a fresh way of taking people into the outdoors. Around the same time, river surfing was becoming more popular, and we knew of a few waves where we could try it out. We started by taking these huge paddleboards to remote places on the Gauley River to see if we could stand on these big waves. Now we’re using five-foot ocean boards to ride river waves.

You’re one of the first to run West Virginia whitewater on a SUP board. What was that process like?

Taking a SUP board downriver was super thrilling because it added a new challenge to the rivers I’d navigated for quite a while. Paddleboarding down the river is the most hilarious thing you can do; you’re falling all over the place and it really tests your balance. You have to be conscientious of how your leash is attached to you and your lifejacket so you’re not getting tangled up in an entrapment situation. When moving from class V rapids in a huge raft

to class II rapids on a much smaller craft, you’re looking at every nuance of how the water is moving in those eddy lines and around rocks. It allowed me to immerse myself even more into what I was doing, and to be really in the moment. That’s what I think we all seek in outdoor recreation.

What’s it like to SUP the big rapids on the New River?

It’s very challenging; Fayette Station rapid is super hard. I’ve only gone through it clean five or six times out of probably a hundred attempts. The best run I’ve had SUPing the Lower New had just seven swims. On average, I usually have 12 to 15 swims because there are so many big rapids. It’s where I’ve had the most significant injuries from things like falling and hitting my ankle against a rock. It’s quite intense and I wouldn’t recommend it for people who are just learning to SUP. In 2011, I started the first downriver SUP race in West Virginia on the New River, and that continued for eight years. It was a super fun event that helped pull together the SUP community.

What was the genesis of Active SWV?

Active SWV was formed in 2014 by the New River Gorge Regional Development Authority as an initiative to improve the health of the workforce. I called everybody I knew who was associated with the development office and said, “I want this role, I want to give

Clockwise from top left: Melanie Seiler (second from right) at the 2001 World Rafting Championship on the Gauley River, photo courtesy Melanie Seiler. Seiler (top right) and the Sweets of the East on the Upper Gauley during their winning run at the 2018 National Raft Race Championships, photo by Whitewater Photography. Seiler SUP surfing a glassy wave on the Gauley River, photo by Jay Young. The 2016 finish of the New River Gorge SUP Race organized by Seiler, photo by Len Hanger.

it 110 percent. I see the need.” I was hired as executive director in February of 2015 and tasked with launching programs to provide activity opportunities and help local residents get into recreation and fitness and take ownership of their backyard in the New River Gorge.

What programs do you offer for kids and communities?

Our programming is intended to reach all ages. The Community Captains program recruits and trains individuals to lead physical activity programs like aerobics, yoga, Tai Chi, pickleball, and disc golf, as well as outdoor sports like paddleboarding, mountain biking, and rock climbing, all at a beginner level. Community Captains are the heart and soul of the organization.

We also have a Kids’ Run Clubs, where we help elementary schools across West Virginia implement an afterschool running program. We’ve seen an increase in physical activity and a decrease in screen-time among participants. About 70 percent of the kids who participate get somebody at home to be more active with them as well. We had 31 elementary schools participate in 2022; we hope to reach 50 elementary schools this year.

How do you help workplaces support physical activity?

We provide a free, six-week training for businesses through our Workplace Wellness programs. We help them set up a multi-year wellness program by encouraging them to implement policies that allow 15-minute breaks for physical activity throughout the workday, challenges, and earning time off through physical activity or improved nutrition. We also help bring health screenings into the workplace. The West Virginia DMV is participating and we’re seeing great results, which is really rewarding.

Why is it important for people to get outside?

There are so many benefits to being active outdoors. It improves people’s health and wellness and develops their appreciation for our environment and outdoor spaces. The outdoors is often a free resource that’s accessible throughout West Virginia, especially compared to cities where it’s a lot more difficult and costly to access green space.

What are some barriers to participating in outdoor recreation that you’re working to remove?

The most common barrier is not knowing, from not knowing a skill or where you’re supposed to go to what you’re supposed to wear or bring when you do go to not knowing if you can physically do something. We remove that barrier by

setting up scheduled dates for beginner-lever activities with detailed descriptions. There’s also the high cost of equipment to get into certain activities; we provide that equipment. But you don’t need the latest high-tech gear; you don’t need to have the perfect outfit. You can ride a bike in jean shorts or go for a walk in your work boots. One of my favorite photos is from a Tai Chi class with a dude in his camo overalls.

What do you see for the future of Active SWV?

We want to make sure that we’re always meeting the needs of community members. We want all residents to have access to recreation. As trailheads and parking areas are getting busier, we want to advocate for increased access while making people aware of other access points that maybe aren’t getting utilized. I think it’s important to support city and county parks; a lot of parks in West Virginia are underfunded and backdated on maintenance issues. It’s a great resource and an opportunity for utilizing tax dollars to support parks and rec. We want to grow the amount of people engaging and participating in outdoor programs and we want to grow geographically as well. We’re currently in six counties with a few statewide programs, but there’s opportunity to expand more throughout the state.

Do you see Active SWV becoming a hub for outdoor recreation in West Virginia?

We have so much opportunity with New River Gorge National Park and in the Coalfields region. What we’re experiencing in southern West Virginia that’s different than central and northern West Virginia is the depletion of the coal industry. What’s left behind are massive tracts of land, along with people who are now seeking other employment options, and we have that opportunity to turn those areas around by focusing on health, wellness, recreation, and physical activity.

What do you want to see for the future in West Virginia?

I really want to see that vibrance in our people, appreciation for our outdoor spaces, and neighbors caring for neighbors. I think this is already happening. I think we have a lot of that West Virginia pride and a sense of place here. I hope we use this momentum to change the narrative from hillbillies and abandoned towns to a destination where people care about the land each other. w

Left: Randy Fisher. Right: Molly Wolff

West Virginia Day is our annual celebration of statehood, held each year on June 20 to mark the Mountain State’s admission to the Union in 1863. Last year, I celebrated West Virginia Day by photographing some of my favorite places in the state. Campbell Falls, located in Camp Creek State Park in Mercer County, is one of those special places. This aesthetically pleasing stairstep waterfall is often just a trickle in the summer months, but I was fortunate to catch it after a good rain. This year, West Virginia turns 160, and I hope to celebrate in the same fashion. Photo and caption by Leiane Gibson