Highland Outdoors | Winter 2021 by highland-outdoors

FREE

WINTER 2021

ST V IR

NIA - P

HONT

304.799. INFO (4636) NaturesMountainPlayground.com

COUNTY

. o n d W e , s r d f l r u i l Wint e W

Follow the snow to winter in Pocahontas County. Carve fresh corduroy at Snowshoe Mountain Resort, cross-country ski the Greenbrier River Trail State Park, or Snowshoe along the Highland Scenic Highway. Our winter playground is calling.

highland-outdoors.com

April 30 - May 1, 2022

June 25, 2022

August 27 - 28, 2022

You deserve a Runcation! For More Information please visit www.canaanvalleyhalfmarathon.com

HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

THE RIVERS RUN ALL WINTER YOU SHOULD TOO!

Winter Paddling Gear In Stock Now!

NRS | KOKATAT | ASTRAL | AND MORE! 239 N COURT ST

FAYETTEVILLE, WV NEW RIVER GORGE NATIONAL PARK

304-574-1900 ACEADVENTUREGEAR.COM

Where the ﬁrst adventure lasts a lifetime Our summer programs are about more than just fun (although there’s plenty of that, too!) —they also provide meaningful opportunities for exploration, skill-building, and learning beyond the classroom. • Youth summer camps and adult programs • 400-acre campus just off the summit of Spruce Knob in the Monongahela National Forest • Registration starting January 1 for June and July 2022 programs

EXPERIENCE-LEARNING.ORG

highland-outdoors.com

FROM THE EDITORS

Greetings, friend! You hold in your hands our thirteenth issue, marking the start of our fourth year as publishers of Highland Outdoors. When Nikki and I took over the mag from HO founder Eric Lee in October 2018, I told him that I would consider it a huge success if we could keep the dream alive for another five years. Thirteen issues in, we’re still alive and very much still kicking. In three years, we accomplished goals that were pipe dreams when we dipped our toes into the publishing world. We upgraded to a full-gloss magazine and took our editorial content in a fresh direction, telling stories that no one else is telling. We launched a custom website, merchandise, and our official subscription service. And we did it all while surviving the challenges of a global pandemic. Some days we can’t believe it’s already been three years, but on others, we flounder as small business owners trying to make it work in West Virginia. Publishing an independent magazine can often feel like a Herculean effort. We’ve hit plenty of roadblocks along the way, like when our printer

The positive messages we receive really do keep us going. From advertisers new and old to our loyal readers and, as of press time, 135 subscribers (you know who you are!), this magazine is a true community effort. Really—the mag isn’t possible without you—and we sincerely thank you for providing us with the funding and motivation to keep making West Virginia’s Outdoor Magazine better and better every issue. With thirteen issues down, I’m confident that we will hit my original five-year goal. And once we’re there, we’ll throw a big party and set our sights on another five years. Now, enough about fiveyear plans. It’s time to ski! w Dylan Jones and Nikki Forrester

HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

STAFF

Publisher, Editor-in-Chief Dylan Jones Senior Editor, Designer Nikki Forrester Copy Editor Amanda Larch Pretty Much Everything Else Dylan Jones, Nikki Forrester

CONTRIBUTORS

Jess Daddio, John Dean, Eric Erbe, Nikki Forrester, Justin Harris, Dylan Jones, Matt Kearns, Cam Moore, Jill Mullins, Vernon Patterson, Martin Radigan, Brian Sarfino, Liz Stout, Jesse Thornton, Victoria Weeks, Dayna Williams

ADVERTISING

Request a media kit or send inquiries to info@highland-outdoors.com

SUBMISSIONS

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

EDITORIAL POLICY

Our editorial content is not influenced by advertisers.

SUSTAINABILITY

We offset our estimated annual carbon footprint. 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

Brian Sarfino

closed its doors the week our first issue was due. But hey, now we know more about paper weights, ink coatings, and line screens than we’d like to admit. When we decided to tackle the design ourselves, Nikki taught herself how while wrapping up her PhD. I regularly do the jobs of 10 people—who knew that swapping hats all day ruins your ability to focus? On a given day we are business developers, writers, editors, photographers, web developers, salespeople, merchandisers, distributors, accountants, and mailroom workers. We never hit our self-imposed deadlines for our stories and we’re still navigating the world of advertising sales. Despite the challenges, we’ve been amazed and humbled by the financial and moral support from our advertisers, contributors, and readers.

Eric Erbe, color by Victoria Weeks

CONTENTS 12

CAMPING WITH GHOSTS

UNDER THE MILKY WAY

GO TELE IT ON THE MOUNTAIN

By Matt Kearns

West Virginia’s First Dark Sky Parks

Telemark Skiing Culture is Alive and Well in the Mountain State

By John Dean

By Dylan Jones

EVERY ISSUE

THE SHAPE OF SNOW

THE JOY OF THE SUFFERFEST, PART 2

By Victoria Weeks

By Dylan Jones

BRIEFS

PROFILE

GALLERY

These precipitating, needle-like snow crystals often fall during wet, heavy snow events, pg. 30

highland-outdoors.com

BRIEFS

WV NATURAL AREAS PROGRAM DESIGNATES FIRST SITES IN CANAAN VALLEY By Dylan Jones

As the highest large valley east of the Mississippi, Canaan is already widely known for its stunning vistas, wild weather, and year-round outdoor recreation. With the addition of these WV Natural Areas, CVRSP is now officially recognized for its stunning biodiversity. The WV Natural Areas Program, administered by the West Virginia Department of Natural Resources (DNR), was established in February 2021 and aims to protect areas already under DNR management that “possess significant natural importance in the conservation of the state’s, and in many cases the world’s, rarest plant and animal species.” Canaan’s unique position as a transition zone for several larger ecosystems makes it a biodiversity hotspot. The valley and 8

HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

ciation communities, including a balsam fir–oatgrass swamp. According to O’Malley, the balsam fir–oatgrass swamp in Canaan is the only occurrence in North America.

According to Scott Warner, DNR assistant chief for wildlife diversity, the two sites in Canaan Valley were chosen as the inaugural inductees due to the occurrence of species that DNR identified as having immediate need for protection. “Canaan Valley has the highest density of rare and endangered species in the state,” Warner said. “We’ve got species that you won’t find anywhere else in West Virginia.”

While Bald Knob is mostly known as a mecca for cross-country skiing and for its snow-capped vistas during winter, it’s also now known as a 200-acre WV Natural Area that will permanently protect its forests and meadows. The natural area boundaries extend from the natural gas pipeline—and its trail that connects Canaan Ski Resort to the White Grass Ski Touring Center—to the classic open vista on Bald Knob and the pristine spruce-hardwood forests on “true Bald Knob,” the summit of the knob just to the east of the prominent view point.

Canaan Valley Wetland Natural Area Shallow, slow-moving streams meander through sprawling conifer swamps, slowed even further by the relentless work of beavers creating ponds several acres in size that reflect the stunning beauty of the rugged mountain that rims the valley. The Canaan Valley Wetland Natural Area encompasses over 2,000 acres and contains large portions of the various meandering tributaries that make up the headwaters of the Blackwater River. The wetland here is one of the most biodiverse ecosystems in Central Appalachia, featuring 43 rare plants, six rare birds, and the Appalachian cottontail. “It’s a birder’s paradise,” said DNR ecologist Kieran O’Malley. The Canaan wetland features 12 rare invertebrates and 13 rare vegetation asso-

Bald Knob Natural Area Dense stands of hardy red spruce trees dot sections of open meadow atop one of Tucker County’s highest and windiest peaks, creating thick duff soils that provide cover for rare salamanders.

The Bald Knob Natural Area is home to eight rare insects, two plant species, and one reptile—the northern ring-necked snake. It’s also home to two species of salamanders, including the well-known Cheat Mountain salamander, which is endemic to a few high-elevation ridgelines in West Virginia. Although red spruce forests are recovering and now cover the tops of many ridgelines throughout the Allegheny Mountains, Bald Knob is home to a globally rare red spruce–southern mountain cranberry forest. O’Malley said there are around twenty known global occurrences of this unique forest type.

A Greater Level of Protection By designating plots currently under DNR ownership, the program places a greater level of protection on unique or sensitive areas within state parks, state forests,

Dylan Jones

Nature lovers, rejoice! Two pristine and globally unique ecosystems in Canaan Valley Resort State Park (CVRSP) were designated as the first tracts in the new West Virginia Natural Areas Program. Encompassing a combined 2,200 acres, the Bald Knob and Canaan Valley Wetland natural areas were selected for their concentrations of globally rare plants and animals, high conservation priorities, and distinct natural features.

its surrounding mountains represent both the northernmost range for several southern species and the s out her n mos t range for a handful of northern species typically found in Canada.

and state wildlife management areas. The designations will come with new signage and educational kiosks, along with potential for new trail development to highlight unique areas, trail diversion to protect sensitive areas, or construction of boardwalks to protect wetlands. According to O’Malley, the idea for the program has been around since the 1970s. “The Natural Areas Program is a vehicle for identifying and protecting the best of the best, the most exemplary and diverse habitats in the state,” O’Malley said. “Our goal is to protect these sensitive organisms, ideally with a robust population, but also to allow the land to be used and enjoyed in a way that does not impact them.” Warner was quick to reassure that the WV Natural Areas Program will not

impact or cause changes to hunting on state lands. He also noted that because the program only allows for designations on land already owned by DNR, there will be no regulations imposed upon private, industrial, or federal lands. “This program allows us to work closely together with our parks unit to identify crucial areas within the boundaries of state parks that may need some higher level of protection.” Although designation as a WV Natural Area won’t come with additional funding to support conservation practices or development of recreation infrastructure, Warner said the program will make these areas more competitive for grant funds administered through both the Land and Water Conservation Fund and the Great American Outdoors Act that was passed in 2020.

Now that the first two WV Natural Areas have been christened, DNR is looking to add new sites in the coming years. According to Warner, DNR is currently considering sites in five other state parks and expects to make these announcements early in 2022. “Our state parks have been protected because somebody had the forward thinking that these areas are unique to the state of West Virginia,” Warner said. “We are committed to that obligation of providing recreational and educational opportunities, and now we’re doing it with a higher level of conservation.” w Dylan Jones is publisher of Highland Outdoors and lives in Canaan Valley. He regularly visits both natural areas year-round and can vouch for their awesomeness.

WV TRAIL HOSTS INAUGURAL STATEWIDE TRAILS CONFERENCE By HO Staff The West Virginia Trails & Recreation Advocacy & Information Link (WV TRAIL) held its inaugural WV Trail Conference in November 2021. The virtual event brought together nearly 300 regional outdoor recreation professionals to develop unified strategies to advance trail development across the Mountain State. Formed in 2020, WV TRAIL aims to increase awareness and appreciation of trails throughout West Virginia. The nonprofit, which consists of numerous trail and recreation organizations, hopes to bolster resources for the acquisition, development, maintenance, and promotion of non-motorized, multi-use trail systems. Over three days, speakers and attendees addressed challenges and opportunities for trail maintenance and trail users. They reflected on successful past projects and laid out the impacts that trails have on the health, economy, and well-being of local communities. The conference wrapped up with a discussion of how best to move forward. “There’s so much happening in West Virginia around the outdoor economy; the tapestry of people that care about and

work on trails is so diverse,” Friends of the Cheat (FOC) executive director Amanda Pitzer said. “We need to be prioritizing the projects that are going to have the biggest impacts because that’s what’s going to keep other community-based things funded and moving forward.” FOC is spearheading the development of the Mountaineer Trail Network Authority, a multi-county network of trail systems geared toward mountain biking. Pitzer said the state of outdoor recreation in West Virginia is at a crossroads, and the conference served to highlight the importance of strategic planning to mitigate negative impacts to tourism-dependent communities. “Yes, this is about tourism and economic development, but let’s not forget that this is also about livability and making West Virginia a wonderful place for the people who are already here,” she said. WV TRAIL hopes to use the post-conference momentum to activate and support a legislative caucus to advocate for trail-forward recreation policy at the state level. “It’s about building the community and making sure that when we do approach our elected officials, we have similar messages,” said

Nathan Hilbert, community planner for the National Park Service Rivers, Trails, and Conservation Assistance Program. Pitzer said the legislative caucus will be a bicameral, bipartisan group that will push for a statewide recreation plan. “This has been really successful in other states,” Pitzer said. “Having that unified voice is going to be beneficial for everyone involved.” The WV TRAIL steering committee includes a laundry list of heavy hitters in the current West Virginia outdoor recreation scene: the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy; the National Park Service Rivers, Trails, and Conservation Assistance; the WVU Outdoor Economic Development Collaborative; the WVU School of Public Health; WV Connecting Communities; Friends of the Cheat and the Mountaineer Trail Network Authority; the Beckley Office of Outdoor Recreation; the WV Horse Coalition; the WV Rails to Trails Council; and the Mountain State Trail Alliance. w To learn more about WV Trail, the conference, or how to get involved, check out wvtrail.org or shoot an email to info@wvtrail.org. highland-outdoors.com

BRIEFS

HAPPY ANNIVERSA-SKI! By HO Staff Skiers, rejoice! Literally—it’s time to hit the slopes in jovial and celebratory fashion. The 2021-2022 winter season marks a slew of snowy milestones for Canaan Valley skiing. First and foremost is the 70th anniversary of commercial skiing in West Virginia. The Ski Club of Washington DC opened up a small ski area called Driftland way back in 1951, which soon became the Cabin Mountain Ski Area and is the present-day site of the White Grass Ski Touring Center. Speaking of White Grass, everyone’s favorite “Nordic downhill” XC resort turns 40 this season, and we couldn’t be more stoked to go play in the powder stashes that draw skiers from all over the region. Celebrating its golden anniversary, Canaan Valley Resort Ski Area turns 50 this year. Canaan Valley Resort Ski Area opened its trails on the slopes of Weiss Knob on Cabin Mountain in 1971, making it the longest continually running ski resort in West Virginia. And even though it’s still in its fledgling years, we’ve gotta give a birthday shoutout to Timberline Mountain, which will be kicking off its second season after reopening under new ownership last year. For those interested in celebrating these milestones by delving into ski history, be sure to go check out the Snow Sports Museum of WV in downtown Davis for all kinds of classic ski memorabilia. Don’t forget to put your trail maps in the freezer and do your snow dance. Happy birthday to all, and to all a good ski! w

Canaan Valley Resort Ski Area, photo by Dylan Jones

10 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

East of the Mississippi

By Cam Moore

Winter is a good time to think about the last ice age. Glaciers stretched across Canada and south into Pennsylvania and Ohio, while Paleolithic powder hounds skied down the slopes of what is now Timberline and Snowshoe… or at least I’d like to think they did. The last ice age also gifted us one of the coolest tree species east of the Mississippi. Found only in Canaan Valley and a few other secluded spots in the West Virginia highlands, the Canaan fir is a modern-day gem from that mastodon-laden ice age some 14,000 years ago. As the glaciers retreated, most balsam fir (Abies balsamea) trees marched steadily northward to dominate the forests of Maine and Canada, where they reside today. However, a few renegade balsam firs headed for the hills of the Mountain State where they grew tough and beautiful and weird enough (basically the story of West Virginia) to become a distinct subspecies of balsam fir—hence the Canaan fir. With its uniformly conical shape, satisfyingly resinous scent, and pleasantly soft and dark green needles, the Canaan fir is just so dang Christmassy that one experiences an uncontrollable urge to drink a bucket of hot chocolate and watch Elf every time you see one. That partly explains why this rare tree, which grows in just a few West Virginia valleys, is rapidly becoming one of the most popular Christmas trees in the U.S. Some Christmas tree farms even cultivate Canaan fir, helping to propagate the species and Christmas cheer. Along with its charmingly good looks, Canaan fir is extremely cold tolerant. In the early spring and late fall of 2021, a weather station in a remote part of Canaan Valley recorded the coldest temperature in the Lower 48 at least five times. Nestled around that temperature gauge, under a starry sky, is surely a grove of stately Canaan fir, dreaming of glaciers, mastodons, and ancient skiers. w Cam Moore is a resident of Canaan Valley, the highest large valley East of the Mississippi, and a lover of all things West Virginia.

. With three premier ski resorts, charming small towns and cozy lodging options, Tucker County is a go-to winter destination. Explore our mountain adventures, and Ski the Valley this season. Plan your perfect winter in Cannan Valley.

SkiTheValley.com

800.782.2775

highland-outdoors.com 11

CAMPING WITH GHOSTS Words and photos by Matt Kearns

est Virginia’s 921,000-acre Monongahela National Forest is probably best known for the forests, streams, and trails that wind through its mountainous terrain. Yet tucked among the thickets of rhododendron and spruce are small pockets of history, often hiding in plain sight. One such pocket includes an interesting piece of the American Civil War and offers insight into the battles that shaped the cultural and geographical boundaries of the Mountain State.

12 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

By the summer of 1861, after a series of Union victories at Philippi, Rich Mountain, and Corrick’s Ford at Parsons, federal troops had pushed the Confederates back to the Greenbrier Valley. Each side built a fort at a defensible location straddling the Parkersburg-Staunton Turnpike, which is marked today by U.S. Route 250. On Cheat Mountain, near Cheat Bridge, Union forces from Indiana, Ohio, and Michigan constructed Cheat Summit Fort. Meanwhile, on the high ridge southeast of Bartow, Confederate soldiers from Virginia and Georgia built Camp Allegheny. On a clear day, each side could look out across the Greenbrier Valley and see the smoke from their respective enemy’s campfires. From these fortified positions, the Confederates struck first. In September 1861, Confederates launched a complex attack against Cheat Summit Fort. The thick, virgin red spruce forests on Cheat Mountain impeded communication between the attacking forces and the effort was aborted when the Confederates lost the element of surprise. By December, it was the Union’s turn to attack Camp Allegheny. Once again, the difficult terrain gave the defenders an advantage. What was supposed to be a well-timed, two-pronged Union attack to overwhelm the Confederates with their superior numbers turned into a staggered one-two punch. The disorganized attack allowed the Confederates to regroup and focus on one Union force at a time. Federal troops actually made it inside Camp Allegheny but were eventually beaten back. After each side suffered about 140 casualties, the Union retreated to Cheat Summit Fort. Following both failed attacks, the Union and Confederate forces settled in for a long, cold winter. Cheat Summit Fort and Camp Allegheny have the distinction of being the highest elevation encampments occupied during the Civil War. Soldiers’ diaries record snow, freezing rain, and conditions “harsh as the North Pole.” The soldiers built crude cabins inside each fort’s defenses and stripped the forests for firewood. Frostbite, trench foot, and disease put more men out of action than combat. Many veterans called it the “severest campaign” of the war. Despite the hardship and lives lost, or

Hilltop trenches dug by Confederate soldiers at Camp Allegheny

A BRIEF HISTORY OF HISTORY West Virginia owes her statehood to the Civil War. There was a simmering cultural and political disconnect between eastern and western Virginia that boiled over when Virginia seceded from the Union in April 1861. Politicians scrambled to form a pro-Union state government while the generals scrambled to secure key infrastructure. The first major military campaign of the Civil War was fought in West Virginia with each side vying for control of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad and the Parkersburg-Staunton Turnpike. The B&O was a lifeline of supplies and troops from the midwestern states to Washington, D.C.; the turnpike connected the Ohio River to the Shenandoah Valley. Possession of these routes was essential for success in the eastern theater of war.

Civil War breakfast: Unfiltered coffee and homemade hardtack

highland-outdoors.com 13

more likely because of it, each side abandoned their fortifications come spring in April 1862. By then, the Civil War had progressed beyond western Virginia, but the marks of these battles would remain on the land—and on the maps—forever. Today, both Cheat Summit Fort and Camp Allegheny are National Historic Landmarks. Our public land on the Monongahela National Forest protects these encampments and the Forest Service provides excellent brochures, signs, and interpretation at each site.

A HISTORIC OUTING On the December 13 anniversary of the Union attack at Camp Allegheny, I found myself staring at a view that has remained remarkably unchanged over the 159 years since that historic battle. My wife and I traveled to this corner of West Virginia from Charleston to experience a small part of the “severe campaign” for ourselves. Route 250 largely follows the original route of the Parkersburg-Staunton Turnpike that was critically important in 1861. But here, near Camp Allegheny, the highway had been slightly diverted, leaving a sunken and rutted dirt road to mark the original route. Shooting for historical accuracy, we spent the previous night in a primitive tarp shelter among the pines to protect us from the roaring wind. It was a challenge to cook our simple root-vegetable stew over the campfire—just as the soldiers did. Our breakfast the next morning was easier: just a pot of coffee and some rock-solid hardtack that I baked at home by following a traditional Civil War recipe. It’s highly recommended to soften the hardtack in your coffee to avoid breaking your teeth. Searching along the ancient ridge, we discovered trenches and fighting holes with a commanding view of the old turnpike below. As we explored the fortifications of Camp Allegheny, I was reminded of Union veteran Ambrose Bierce’s account of a trip he took to revisit the site years after the battle. In his essay, “Bivouac of the Dead,” he observed “long lines of old Confederate fortifications, skillfully designed and so well preserved that an hour’s

work by a brigade would put them into serviceable shape for the next civil war.” However, the old cabins did not fare as well in the intervening years. All that remains are stone piles, probably just remnants of chimneys and hearths, neatly lined up with military precision. Fueled by all that coffee-soaked hardtack, we continued west on the Parkersburg-Staunton Turnpike to see the Union position at Cheat Summit Fort, where the day’s attack originated. Unfortunately for historical context, prevailing conditions here have not lent themselves to battlefield preservation. The forest has reclaimed many of the fortifications, although the outermost wall and trench defenses are still apparent. Like many places across West Virginia, part of Cheat Summit Fort was strip-mined for coal before it was preserved as public land. Despite these changes and the relentless passage of time, you can still appreciate the harsh conditions and rugged landscape that made living and fighting atop Cheat Mountain so difficult. Approaching my wife’s limit for historical detours in one day, we set our sights for home. Had we continued west along the Parkersburg-Staunton Turnpike, we would have ended up at the Ohio River. There, on a promontory with a sweeping view of the river, lies Fort Boreman, yet another small Civil War site. Fort Boreman was a very strategic location, guarding the western end of the Parkersburg-Staunton Turnpike, the B&O railroad, and a crucial ferry across the Ohio River. The fort was named after Arthur Boreman, West Virginia’s first governor.

A FINAL LESSON The influx of federal troops into northwestern Virginia in the summer of 1861 provided pro-Union politicians like Arthur Boreman the security they needed to advance their goal of forming a new state. On June 20, 1863, West Virginia officially entered the Union via presidential proclamation and helped continue the fight against the Confederacy. West Virginia remains the only U.S. state to be created in this way. When looking at the bizarre and iconic shape of our state today, the reason that the border stops on the eastern edge of Pocahontas County instead of continuing into Highland County, Virginia, is because of a little-known battle that occurred in December 1861. When Union forces failed to dislodge the defenders from Camp Allegheny, they kept the eastern end of a key road—and the land through which it passed—in Confederate hands for years following the battle. You see, your high school teacher was right— history does matter. While we didn’t see any ghosts guarding their long-lost fortifications, a cold night and a windy day exploring the battlefields certainly increased my connection with the souls that lived and fought in this rugged landscape so many years ago. Without key Union victories in the opening campaign of the Civil War, West Virginia and “montani semper liberi” might never have existed. And without preservation and public lands, much of our history might be lost and forgotten, hiding among the spruce. w

The Parkersburg-Staunton Turnpike remains as a double-track backroad.

14 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

Matt Kearns is a native West Virginian, Coast Guard veteran, and avid outdoorsman. He lives in Charleston with one loving wife and two indifferent cats.

Working to restore, preserve, and promote the outstanding natural qualities of the Cheat River watershed. Scan the QR code to donate

Acid Mine Drainage Remediation

Recreation & River Access

Bacteria Monitoring & Swim Guide

Education and Outreach

Cheat Fest! Snorkel Club

Learn more at cheat.org

highland-outdoors.com 15

UNDER THE MILKY WAY STARGAZING IS PRESERVED FOR ALL AT WEST VIRGINIA’S FIRST DARK SKY PARKS

By John Dean

n a warm summer night at Watoga State Park in 1966, my brother Ronnie and I laid on our backs, looking up wide-eyed at the unparalleled magnificence. I was 5 years old; Ronnie was 8. As we stared intently at the infinite expanse, we talked about how many lightning bugs each of us had caught just an hour earlier in Mom’s blue Mason jars. When the skies darkened, our words diminished until one of us whispered, “Aww, did you see that?” Ronnie and I watched in amazement for a shooting star, a streaking comet, or the Milky Way galaxy. But most people aren’t as lucky. In the United States, more than 99% of the population lives under light-polluted skies. In 16 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

North America, 80% of people can’t see the Milky Way—many will never see it in their lifetimes. “The artificial brightening of the night sky represents a profound alteration of a fundamental human experience—the opportunity for each person to view and ponder the night sky,” wrote Fabio Falchi and his colleagues in a 2016 study that published a world atlas of light pollution at night. Light pollution, which describes the excessive or inappropriate use of artificial lights, is one of the most ubiquitous and profound ways humans have altered the environment. It affects not only our experience at night, but also human health, wildlife, and natural ecosystems. For billions of years, life on Earth has functioned on the light-dark cycle of day and night. Artificial lights disturb this cycle, affecting our ability to sleep

and increasing our risk of cancer, heart disease, and obesity. Wildlife also struggles to adapt to increased light at night, especially nocturnal species. For instance, light pollution can disrupt migratory patterns for birds and alter predator-prey interactions by blinding nocturnal hunters and exposing predators who rely on darkness to hide. Light pollution can also be fatal for insects and reptiles; millions of sea turtle hatchlings die each year because artificial lights guide them towards roads instead of the ocean. “All organisms do better in the dark with no artificial lights at night for their circadian rhythms —trees, insects, mammals, people included,” says Lynn Faust, a firefly expert based in Tennessee. The recognition of these impacts and the acknowledgement that night is a critical resource for all drove the Watoga State

Park Foundation to preserve dark skies in West Virginia. Now, five decades after that summer night, the awe-inspiring dark sky my brother and I treasured will be protected for generations to come.

WEST VIRGINIA’S FIRST INTERNATIONAL DARK SKY PARKS On October 18, 2021, Watoga State Park, along with nearby Droop Mountain Battlefield State Park and Calvin Price State Forest, became West Virginia’s first International Dark Sky Parks. These parks, which span 19,869 acres in Pocahontas County, are located in one of the darkest regions in the East. The designation was awarded by the International Dark-Sky Association (IDA), a nonprofit organization based in Tucson, Arizona, that strives to protect the night skies from light pollution.

currently more than 180 certified darksky places around the world that span five types of designations: communities, parks, reserves, sanctuaries, and urban night sky places. The park designation specifically refers to places that have exceptional starry skies and nighttime environments that are protected for their scientific, cultural, and educational value. Watoga is now one of 82 dark sky parks in the U.S. In addition to protecting the night sky from light pollution, the new designa-

“These applications take years to craft and put together the necessary materials to meet IDA’s standards, and once this is complete, the park commits to serving the night sky for perpetuity,” says Ashley Wilson, IDA’s Director of Conservation and lead of its International Dark Sky Places Program. Watoga’s application, which is publicly available, consists of letters of recommendation, sky quality surveys, light pollution maps, night sky photographs, information about educational programs and community outreach events, and a lighting management plan. Local astronomers, photographers, and other volunteers assisted Dawson and Fatora with the dark sky initiative.

Two local amateur astronomers, Michael Rosolina and J. Perez, took evening light readFor decades, expanings at three sky-viewsive night skies have ing locations in Watoga drawn stargazers, on five dates in 2019, astronomers, and 2020, and 2021 as part photographers to of the application’s sky Watoga. Jesse Thornton, quality surveys. They a professional photograalso agreed to help overpher who is known for see seasonal light readhis night shots featuring measurements in ing the Milky Way, was the future. “Preserving A light pollution map of West Virginia and surrounding states. The star indicates thrilled when the desigour dark night skies is the location of Watoga State Park, Droop Mountain, and Calvin Price State Forest. nation was officially of utmost importance. Map courtesy Earth Observation Group, NOAA National Geophysical Data Center announced. “We’re I would feel deprived Previous: The Milky Way is suspended over the wooden observation tower at losing more of the night without experiencing Droop Mountain Battlefield State Park. The tower was constructed by the Civilian sky due to the encroachsuch a wonder,” says Conservation Corps circa 1928, photo by Jesse Thornton. ment of light pollution Perez. “It is always every year; it’s something I can see in my a humbling experience. It makes one tion helps raise awareness of these parks photography,” Thornton says. “Protecting feel insignificant in the vastness of our and dark skies as resources for residents dark areas like Watoga is becoming more universe.” and visitors from around the world. important, not only for ecological reasons Perez and Thornton also contributed but for the increased interest in dark sky AN ARDUOUS PROCESS dark sky photos to the IDA application, tourism for those of us who need to travel which had to include information on the To obtain this designation, Mary Dawson if we want to see the stars.” location, camera make and model, and and Louanne Fatora, two board members The IDA launched the International specific exposure settings. of the Watoga State Park Foundation, spent Dark Sky Places Program in 2001 to three years and thousands of hours in Thornton also runs astrophotography encourage communities to protect the the field, on the phone, and at computer workshops at Watoga and Droop Mountain night skies through lighting policies screens compiling a 105-page document as state parks, a key component of the educaand educational programs. There are part of IDA’s rigorous application process. highland-outdoors.com 17

Clockwise from top left: The phases of the total lunar eclipse of November 2021 as it passed over Droop Mountain, photo by Jill Mullins. The galactic core of the Milky Way over Watoga Lake, photo by Jesse Thornton. Watoga by day, photo by Jesse Thornton

tional programming and community outreach aspects of the IDA designation. “You need to be several miles away from city lights from any direction to capture the Milky Way on camera, and you need to be even further than that for good viewing with the naked eye,” Thornton says. In Thornton’s photos, the brightest portion of the Milky Way is the galactic core, or center, of our home galaxy. Some 30,000 light years away, this tumultuous region features tens of millions of stars orbiting a super massive black hole and is visible to the naked eye in dark places like Watoga. “With photography, I’m drawn to extraordinary landscapes, and a backdrop that includes the Milky Way can make any ordinary landscape extraordinary.” Along with astrophotography workshops, Watoga offers a variety of educational programs to teach visitors about astronomy, wildlife, and the multitude of ways that light pollution affects our lives and the nocturnal landscape. Several local organizations provided funds to purchase 18 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

essential star-gazing equipment, such as professional telescopes, astronomy backpacks, and educational materials. In 2020 and 2021, Watoga hosted star walks, starry night stories, and events on moths, bats, owls, and fireflies. The diverse array of species, including the presence of synchronous fireflies, contributed to the approval of Watoga as a Dark Sky Park. These fireflies synchronize their light patterns as part of their mating display, but researchers found that light pollution has contributed to population declines. Watoga is one of only four locations on public lands in the U.S. where visitors can watch synchronous fireflies put on their spectacular display. Another critical component of Watoga’s IDA application was improving light fixtures and developing a lighting management plan. Dawson and Fatora raised grant funding from the First Energy Foundation to retrofit 170 of the 185 outdoor lights to be dark-sky compliant, reaching a 92% compliance rate, well

above IDA’s standard of 67% for the initial application. By May 2022, Watoga plans to ensure the remaining 15 lights conform to dark sky standards. “Each place has a unique connection with the night sky, its environment, and local communities, so it is great to have the opportunity to shine the spotlight for places that go above and beyond what is required for the certification,” says Wilson.

A DARK FUTURE The IDA designation for Watoga, Droop Mountain, and Calvin Price is just part of the continued efforts to preserve and protect dark skies from light pollution. From 2012 to 2016, Earth’s artificially lit outdoor area grew by 2.2% per year. Many cities and towns have retrofitted their street and outdoor lighting to white LEDs, which reduces costs and energy consumption, but could lead to 2.5 times more light pollution. West Virginia’s new Dark Sky parks are aware of these potential threats, and even detailed plans to

discuss responsible lighting policies at town council meetings and with homeowners in Seebert, Hillsboro, and Marlinton as part of their IDA application. “After a park is certified, it continues to conserve the night sky by engaging with its neighbors, whether they are other protected areas or gateway communities, to take interest and action to help celebrate, support, and protect this natural, cultural, and precious resource,” says Wilson. “The most crucial aspect a park can provide is engaging outreach and education to raise awareness about how the excessive and wasteful use of artificial lighting is a growing, urgent, and global pollutant that must and can be feasibly addressed.”

greenrivers.net 304-704-4283

Professional Engineers, Hydrologists & Geologists

Restoring & Protecting West Virginia’s Water for Future Generations

Est. 2010

There will likely be plenty of opportunities to have these discussions at West Virginia’s new Dark Sky Parks since visitor numbers are expected to increase as astronomers, photographers, and families are drawn to see the synchronous fireflies and starry skies. Although the impacts of the IDA designation are yet to be determined, Watoga has set the precedent for other locations in West Virginia to apply for Dark Sky status. “West Virginia is in a unique position as one of the darkest places on the East Coast and the IDA designation will help to raise awareness of the issue with light pollution and maintain some of the night sky,” Thornton says. “I hope these efforts spearheaded by the Watoga Foundation catch on with other areas around the state.” Doing so would go a long way towards protecting the night skies for all living things now and in the future. “Having access to the night sky keeps us attuned to the celestial dance our planet takes part in and reminds us that our lives are affected by forces much bigger than our own,” says Valerie Stimac, dark sky expert and author of Dark Skies: A Practical Guide to Astrotourism. She believes that dark skies should be protected “so that future generations are able to reap the psychological and physical benefits of true darkness, but also to preserve the heritage of stories told about the night sky and its impact on human history.” I spent nearly 40 years in light-polluted urban areas around the country; I was unable to look up even once and see the stars to ponder life’s mysteries. Fortunately, a few years ago, I returned home to my beloved Watoga with its spectacular night sky vistas to lay on my back and become mesmerized once again. Now that Watoga’s dark skies are preserved in perpetuity, young and old alike can be enchanted just as Ronnie and I were some 55 years ago. w John Dean is a legal editor, journalist, and writer. His dad, Vernon, worked at Watoga for 43 years. John’s ancestors settled on land bordering the park in the early 1900s. Dark skies and synchronous fireflies are just two of the many reasons he became a member of the board of directors of the Watoga State Park Foundation.

Nurture X Nature by Libby Hoffmann Moderne Homemaker

discover your authentic self nourish + harmonize with the natural rhythm and beauty of Mother Earth claim more joy and abundance in your life Spring Session begins mid March. Enrollment details: modernehomemaker.com/ nurture-by-nature

highland-outdoors.com 19

GO TELE IT ON THE MOUNTAIN

TELEMARK SKIING CULTURE IS ALIVE AND WELL IN THE MOUNTAIN STATE By Dylan Jones

n March 2021, we went cross-country skiing. But this wasn’t your typical kick-and-glide XC outing in spandex on an impeccably groomed trail. This was backcountry West Virginia telemark skiing at its finest. Over a span of eight hours, we climbed up through tangled forests of beech, birch, and spruce trees, repeatedly stopping to scrape wet snow that stuck to our ski bases. We drank beers in t-shirts in a sunny meadow, making awkward step turns to connect the remaining patches of snow while trying not to fall over in the blueberry shrubs. We ascended and skied (if you want to call it that) down icy north-facing slopes that hadn’t seen the sun in months, biffing it and laughing as we bruised our hips (and egos) and slid on our backs like flipped turtles. I think I made one decent turn between all the wrecks. One member of our party broke one of his skis, lashing it to his backpack and skiing the entire way back on one foot, hopping from edge to edge with a surprising deftness, keeping up—and passing—the less skilled skiers (me included). We ended in an open pasture, where one remaining patch of snow resembling a giant Nike swoosh served as proving grounds for our motley crew—the patch was about a foot wide at its narrowest point, and we all took turns seeing who could run it out at speed. The guy with the broken ski? He was right there with us, lifting his ski-less leg over thawing cow patties as he somehow navigated the narrows on one foot. It was one of the best days of the entire ski season. Conditions-wise, it was on the low end of marginal, and downright awful in places. But the conditions don’t really matter when you’re on an adventure. The freedom of traversing a mountain on skis, uninhibited, with your comrades and time as your only limiting factor, is what telemark skiing is all about. While there are many ways to enjoy sliding on snow, there’s just nothing quite like telemark skiing. The charmingly niche sport seems to attract fun-loving folks who buck the norm and like to blaze their own trails—even if it’s just on two inches of snow in the backyard. But telemarking is more than a subgenre of skiing, it’s a whacky culture that embodies adventure, exploration, self-expression, and fun. While many nouveau backcountry skiers have labeled tele skiing as a relic of the past, the telemark culture is surviving—and thriving—here in the Mountain State. Adam Chase catching international air at White Grass, photo by Martin Radigan Previous: Grit and rip it. A tele skier sprays a plume of powder, photo by Jess Daddio

A BRIEF HISTORY OF TELE Telemark skiing originated in the mid-19th century in the Telemark region of southern Norway. Ski pioneer Sondre Norheim is considered the father of the telemark turn. Sondre hand-crafted his own wooden skis and birch-branch bindings that wrapped around the heel like the modern telemark cable binding. With these advancements, Sondre was able to lift his back heel and drop into a lunge—the signature stance of the telemark turn. The concept of the telemark turn is simple: drop into a lunge with your downhill ski forward, distribute your weight evenly over both skis, and engage the edges to initiate the turn. This alternates from turn to turn, giving the appearance that the skier is bobbing up and down as if running down the mountain. But the concept is where the simplicity stops. To execute a proper telemark turn with grace, control, and intention takes a lot of practice. A veteran telemark skier will look as if they are engaged in a graceful ballet, dancing and weaving through pillows of powder. The discipline mostly fell to the wayside in the 20th century as alpine ski and binding technology progressed. But in the early 24 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

1970s, a free-heelin’ group of ski hippies brought tele back to the mainstream. Able to ski up and down the mountain on what was considered advanced gear at the time, telemark opened up the backcountry to a whole generation of skiers and took the U.S. by storm. By the 1980s, telemark skiing had become commonplace at mountains from Vermont to Colorado, and the counterculture found a home here in Canaan Valley with Chip Chase and White Grass. Mike Sayre, one of the original White Grassers, has been dropping knees since the early 80s. “Everybody was learning the techniques and different styles,” Mike says. “It was just a small crowd of us back then, you saw one or two guys on telemark gear, and you’d ski right over and know them within minutes. Nowadays, we have a really good telemark community up here.” The sport has now settled comfortably in its niche, but the style continues to progress. There is plenty of footage showcasing Chip Chase’s three sons throwing X-games style tricks on skinny skis. Adam Chase, who works at White Grass, can often be found showing off a stylish skillset that can only be attained by living on skis for 36 years. If there’s enough snow, you’ll find Adam doing

back flips off hand-made jumps, throwing 360s off of stumps, and sliding on fallen logs as if they were rails in a terrain park—all on lightweight, edgeless cross-country skis with a soft boot and a basic toe binding. “I can ski better than I can walk,” Adam says. “The freestyle aspect is super fun, it’s the ultimate finesse and balance. You’ve got to be totally on it, you’ve got to stick the landing. There’s no heavy boot or binding holding you up.”

NORDIC DOWNHILL Backcountry telemark skiing on lightweight XC gear, or Nordic downhilling as we like to call it, can turn the benign into the epic. A 50-yard patch of shallow snow on an angled grade becomes expert terrain; a small jump becomes an Olympic proving ground; icy singletrack trail becomes a death luge. And we wouldn’t have it any other way. If there’s snow on the ground in the West Virginia mountains as you read this, you can bet that someone is out there skiing it

Clockwise from top left:

with a powder-eating grin frozen in place. I embarked on my journey of learning the telemark turn several years ago and was immediately bit by “the bug.” While I’m nowhere near proficient, the pursuit of the perfect turn is a lifelong one, and there’s no tele-turning back. I’m the happiest version of myself when I’m out on a long day of schussing and slashing turns in a snow-covered forest. I feel connected to a boundless source of energy, able to ski up, down, and around until I run out of food and water, or my headlamp battery dies. And when I do finally stop, the vibe is pure euphoria, despite quads so wrecked I can barely stand.

Powered by the sun, photo by Justin Harris Gotta get up to get down, photo by Jess Daddio Mason Powell (back) and Nate Powell (front) making brotherly turns at Timberline Mountain, photo by Dylan Jones Ski the trees! photo by Jess Daddio

A typical day involves touring with your tele-pals up a mountain, through the narrow channels of a snow-covered spruce forest, and back down through open birch glades or wide meadows. This, of course, includes loads of falls, like the time I buried my tips in a four-foot drift and somersaulted, face-first, into the depths. When the plume of powder settled, I highland-outdoors.com 25

TELEMARKING IS MORE THAN A SUBGENRE OF SKIING, IT’S A WHACKY CULTURE THAT EMBODIES ADVENTURE, EXPLORATION, SELF-EXPRESSION, AND FUN.

was on my back, laughing uncontrollably, skis in the air, head at least a foot below the surface of the drift. Most wrecks aren’t too bad, and the ones that knock the wind out of you only delay the inevitable laughter. “We all watch each other ski down and make tele turns. It’s not that we’re grading each other, we’re being supportive,” says Sue Haywood. A professional mountain biker turned telemark fanatic, Sue teaches ski clinics at White Grass. “We all know just how hard it is to get to that point where your turns are automatic. We cheer when you link a couple turns in tough terrain, and we’re also there to laugh at the awkward falls. Like, how the hell did that happen?” Mechanics and practice aside, the bulk of the joy comes from that camaraderie. Skiing is fun but skiing with your friends is way better—especially when your friends are like-minded powder hounds who thrive in cold weather. Picture a rowdy group of skiers dressed in wool pants, flannel shirts, and lumberjack hats. They’re rocking bamboo poles and old leather boots on beat-up skis, hooting and hollering as they parade through the woods like a band of jovial bards. “It’s a very eclectic style,” Sue says. “You might even see camo pants and a Patagonia jacket with a bunch of duct tape to fix all the holes.” The breaks from skiing are just as wonderful—backpacks spring open, blossoming forth a heady cornucopia of grilled chicken sandwiches, thermoses of hot tea, and, of course, copious amounts of moonshine (high alcohol content means the swill won’t freeze). Sue recalled one infamous ski where an ambitious individual strapped a pony keg to his back and carried it halfway up the mountain to spark an impromptu ski party. “We have our weekly get-togethers, everyone brings something to the table to share,” Sue says. These sorts of rad adventures, where you’re free to let your tele-freak flag fly, are what we really live for.

FREE THE HEEL, FREE THE SOUL So goes the classic telemark turn of phrase. I can hear the internal grumblings from the modern cadre of alpine touring skiers reading this: Fix the heel, fix the problem. Sure, a free heel might be interpreted as a problem if you’re skiing 45-degree couloirs at high speed with minimal turns. But “the problem” is in the eye of the ski holder. Who wants to 26 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

be locked down when you can dance on your toes? If you’re trying to squeeze out the maximum number of turns in an open meadow here in Appalachia, a free heel will allow you to get that much closer to heaven. “There’s a floaty, springiness that you get in ungroomed snow, you feel like you’re waterskiing,” says Mike. With a free heel, skiers are free to put their own stamp on the timeless turn, whether it’s keeping your knees tucked together like you’re holding an egg in between them or dropping one knee all the way down for an uber-aggressive stance. While a purist may judge your technique, there is no right or wrong. “With alpine, you have to do it by the book,” says Sue. “But in our tele scene, people are encouraged to develop their own personal style. Whether you’re good or bad, everyone develops a distinct way they hold their poles and move their body.” With every joint in your body free to move and flow as desired, tele skiing is the ultimate form of snowy self-expression. “I love the body mechanics and the physics behind the sport, it feels like a dance,” says ski instructor Melanie Seiler Hames. “People display such unique styles; you can get to know people by their silhouette. There’s so much movement that is taking place from turn to turn that you get a different expression with each person.” Melanie showed up in Canaan Valley at age 18 to become a ski instructor and instantly embraced—and was embraced by—the telemark scene. Now a level two Professional Ski Instructors of America (PSIA) telemark instructor, she still returns every two to three years to take the PSIA telemark refresher clinic. “It’s so much more than a family reunion,” she says. “I get so passionate and excited because it was my coming-of-age place, and a lot of those original skiers are still there. It was always a peer group across all ages, that’s something I love about Canaan Valley.” Melanie learned from and did the bulk of her backcountry skiing with Canaan local and legendary instructor Darell Hensley. He started skiing at age 26 as a means of backcountry travel to go ice climbing. He learned to telemark at Canaan Valley Ski Resort, and once he discovered the joy of the turn, he hung up the ice tools and never looked back. “I decided that lugging a lot of sharp, pointy,

Sue Haywood and pup DD tag teaming dreamy turns in the backcountry, photo by Liz Stout

Clockwise from top left: All smiles after biffing it, photo by Justin Harris. Nikki Forrester strikes a tele-pose, photo by Dylan Jones. Freedom is a pair of tele skis on a snowy slope, photo by Jess Daddio. Sue Haywood and DD exhibiting pure style, photo by Liz Stout

dangerous things around was not going to be my winter sport anymore,” Darell says. Telemark skiing opened up the backcountry for Darell, allowing him to go “anywhere that had a hill with snow.” Darell is widely regarded as one of the best telemark instructors in West Virginia and says he’s likely taught thousands of lessons over his 13 years of full-time teaching. Over the years, Darell has successfully converted many an alpine skier to the dark side. “I think curiosity kills the cat, they have to cross over and check it out,” he says. “When there’s a little posse of tele skiers out there having too much fun, it’s clearly noticed.”

28 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

THE NEXT GENERATION Telemark is neither a zombie sport nor a relic of the past in West Virginia. The next generation of tele skiers is enthusiastically embracing the culture, ripping turns with effortless panache. Canaan Valley brothers Mason and Nate Powell are working hard to keep the tele dream alive. Mason, 15, and Nate, 12, have been skiing since they could walk. Their parents, Mike Powell and Sandy Frank, have been skiing and working in the valley for decades. Mike and Sandy got the boys out on cross-country skis before progressing to downhill telemark setups. Mason taught himself to telemark by watching some of his local ski heroes like the Chase

family and Sue. “It was trial and error, just watching all these great skiers because you have so many great influences here,” Mason says. “I would watch them make turns and then try them myself and do it over and over again.” Once Mason had a grasp of the technique, he taught Nate, who says he barely remembers learning because he was so young. The boys remain close, skiing together every chance they get. I could see the similarity in their turns as I watched them rip down the steeps at Timberline, crisscrossing each other’s sinuous ski paths. “It’s rhythmic and you just feel it,” Mason says. Wise beyond their years, the Powell brothers both see the importance of the communal aspect. “Canaan Valley is so special because it’s the culture,” Mason says. “There are all these people that still love it and are willing to teach you and who are super excited to ski with you. I feel like that little niche is something you can’t get it anywhere else; it’s amazing.”

A LIFE-LONG JOURNEY I am still very much a telemark greenhorn. After snowboarding for over 20 years, I’ve found tele skiing to be the seemingly insurmountable challenge that I didn’t know I needed. I am by no means the best snowboarder around, but I’ve become skilled enough that I prefer a lot of snow or a steep slope to keep it interesting. Tele skiing, even at embarrassingly sluggish speeds, has made a groomed beginner trail exciting once again, making the mountain feel 10 times bigger and badder. At first, the mechanics of the turn were incredibly challenging to even conceptualize, let alone execute. I’ve watched YouTube videos, read books, taken impromptu lessons on the trail, and I’ve still got a long way to go. But that’s the beauty of telemark skiing. It’s a lifetime pursuit, and you can always improve. As Mason says, “There’s always more to learn; you can never ski well in every condition. You’ve got to be able to ski ice, powder, bumps, and trees, each in different conditions.” For Adam, skiing is more than just a journey, it’s a way of life. “Cross-country skiing has always been our family’s business, so it was our culture. It gave me an appreciation for the outdoors, for the mountains themselves,” he says. “I pretty much live for skiing. White Grass is why I’m still here, it’s such a unique little spot.” At the end of the season, it doesn’t really matter how much I end up progressing. If you can measure a ski season in smiles, anyone who ventures into the wildlands on a pair of tele skis is coming out on top. The shared passion for being out on the snow, the inimitable camaraderie, the lifelong friendships; these are the immeasurable intangibles that really matter.

AMY BARB, BROKER

N O M AT T E R H O W Y O U P L AY

304.866.8680

“Skiing just fills your soul. It’s really remarkable how important those friendships are many years later,” Melanie says. “Telemark skiing and the commonality of wanting to share it with others is what keeps us connected.” w Dylan Jones is publisher of Highland Outdoors and can be found happily dropping knees—and face planting—all winter long in Canaan Valley.

W E H A V E T H E P L A C E T O S TAY

bestofcanaan.com

Canaan Valley, WV ⁞ Blackwater Falls ⁞ Timberline Mtn

highland-outdoors.com 29

THE SHAPE OF

SNOW

WORDS BY VICTORIA WEEKS MICROGRAPHS BY ERIC ERBE

One late December afternoon at a government lab in Beltsville, Maryland, Eric Erbe saw it all.

erhaps I’m not quite ready to write this article, as it centers around the life and work of my late husband, Eric Erbe. For Eric, snow was always cause for celebration. As a boy, he rushed out to make snow forts and go sledding. As a budding adventurer in college, he discovered the thrills of cross-country skiing. Ultimately, his career as a prolific scientist and microscopist culminated in the development of a ground-breaking method for imaging and exploring the intricate shape of snow. Eric, my closest friend and life partner, was also my editor and adviser of all things science—and here I am without him to help tell this story. As I watch the first snow of this season fall outside the window of our beloved mountain home in Davis, West Virginia, I put my secular self aside and take it as a nod of approval from beyond. I smile. “Just a skiff,” I hear him say. And a beautiful skiff at that, as the October snow clings to the remaining burnt-orange beech leaves and outlines every bare branch in a glistening frosting of solace. Blizzard conditions aside, snow has a deceivingly gentle quality at times, tossed around by the mildest of air currents while silencing the landscape. But its arrival on the ground is only the beginning. When cold enough, snow can build into formidable snowpacks and grandiose glaciers. Nature’s own Bank of Life, each spring and summer loaning out our planet’s most precious currency: fresh water. Snow is an odd character. As she dances effortlessly earthward, she is seen differently by those living in the latitudes that feel her touch. Children see a day off school while their parents see a glitch in the schedule. Skiers dream of sweeping turns down the mountain, artists rush to clutch the beauty in their lens, and city workers see overtime. Scientists see questions to be answered.

Eric was testing a newly installed cryo-stage for the lab’s low-temperature scanning electron microscope (LTSEM). Imagine a tall, hollow column of steel atop a large table, surrounded by a tangle of vacuum hoses, colorful cables, and shiny valves, all leading to a now ancient-looking computer with large cathode-ray tube monitors. Instead of using light like an optical microscope, the smaller bits of our world are revealed by an electron beam scanning a frozen platinum-coated specimen which ejects electrons of its own. That signal gets interpreted into black and white images that are captured on film. The new cryo-stage enabled viewing of samples at even colder temperatures near that of liquid nitrogen (-196°C/-321°F). While it sounds like something out of a 1950s sci-fi flick, the year was 1993. As a leading microscopist at the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA), Eric spent his career in a windowless room revealing the curious, spectacular, and sometimes monstrous nature of the microscopic creatures that pestered the country’s agricultural industries. He also imaged the dangerous organisms that cause life-threatening diseases such as malaria and leishmaniasis. Collaborating with scientists on hundreds of papers, he offered them stunning photographic insight into the microscopic world. The flash-freeze technique enabled by the LTSEM meant the creatures were effectively suspended in animation—caught alive in the act of eating, mating, pestering, or just being. These were not thin-sliced pieces of dead tissue, but rather complete intact lifeforms, an alien-like Pompeii in extreme miniature (Fig. 1). Eric more than made up for his days inside through his devotion to the outdoors. He was an explorer in the classic sense of the word, from wintery ascents in the European Alps to long, winding canoe trips through the Grand Canyon and countless runs on eastern whitewater rivers. He traversed endless slot canyons of the American Southwest following the dry, fickle rivers that created them. He lived for each winter here in Canaan Valley, meticulously planning and preparing new ski routes through his favorite forest on the planet. After 40 years of adventurous pilgrimages, he was finally able to retire and call West Virginia home. Which brings us back to that December afternoon outside Eric’s lab where his two lives—scientist and outdoor adventurer—joined forces. The perfect solution for testing the new cryo-stage came to him while watching the snow fall. He chilled a sample holder, stepped outside, and held out the cold metal waiting to catch a

Top left: Fig. 1. A low-temperature scanning electron microscope enables Ron Ochoa (background) and Eric Erbe to observe tiny mites in detail that would be impossible with other techniques, photo by USDA Right, clockwise from top left: Fig. 2. These two dendrites were captured in West Virginia as they fell onto a cooled sample holder covered with a special cryo-adhesive. Fig. 3. A classic example of rime and graupel. Fig. 4. A depth hoar crystal from a snowpit in northern Minnesota. Fig. 5. Crystals undergoing freeze/thaw in July from Loveland Pass, Colorado. Fig.6. Artificial snow generated by a snow gun in Vermont. Fig. 7. Sample from a cross-country ski track in freshly fallen snow in West Virginia. Fig. 8. Surface hoar or frost on a blade of grass in WV. Fig. 9. Eight-sided crystals of CO2, a potential simulation of what forms on the polar caps of Mars

32 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

“I’ve seen a thousand snows in my lifetime and loved them all.” Eric Erbe

Fig. 10. Combination of bullets, color by Victoria Weeks

falling snow crystal. Knowing him as I came to, I can only imagine the childlike curiosity and giddiness that likely made it hard for him to keep his hands still enough to collect the sample. Too bad it didn’t work. The snow simply bounced off the chilled specimen holder. Even if he managed to catch the snow, how could he possibly expect the delicate crystals to survive the plunge into liquid nitrogen, the next step in preserving this elusive specimen? After several failed attempts, he opted to use a special liquid adhesive made for use in extremely cold temperatures. The snow fell gracefully onto the now sticky sample holder, settled in, and a few minutes later—swoosh! The cold chemical plunge sealed the deal. The snow crystal was ephemeral no more. Kept at subfreezing temperatures, sputtered with platinum, and shot with an electron beam, the scanning lines revealed the broken and fractured symmetry of water’s most magical solid state. Photographically recorded onto polaroid film, humanity’s 34 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

perception of snow was forever changed (Fig. 2). As a researcher, Eric knew he stood on the shoulders of those who came before him. When it came to snow, he was not the first to attempt to preserve its delicate beauty. Wilson A. Bentley spent almost 40 years at the turn of the 20th century perfecting his technique of snow crystal photomicrography in his chilly, outdoor shelter on a Vermont dairy farm. The classic dendritic snow crystals that represent the bulk of his work are colloquially known as “snowflakes” (Fig. 12), but this was just the beginning of cataloging and classifying snow. In 1954, Ukichiro Nakaya took Bentley’s homemade outdoor solution to the next level, building a laboratory where he imaged a wide variety of snow crystal types, expanding the visual library to include columns, bullets, needles, and other structures. Modern images of snow crystals using light microscopy, such as the many published by Kenneth Lebbrecht, are quite enchanting. But looking at a snow crystal under an optical microscope

poses some fundamental limitations from a scientific perspective. The observation itself has to be carefully managed so the sample doesn’t melt or sublimate. Moreover, successful light microscopy of snow is generally limited to a magnification of around 400 times with a very shallow depth of field. LTSEM offered magnifications of up to 100,000 times with an almost infinite depth of field (Fig. 11). Eric’s novel collection method meant the snow samples could be collected intact, transported across thousands of miles, stored for years, and even left in the microscope for hours during observation. This afforded previously unheard-of opportunities for snow crystal imaging and study (Fig. 14). The Handbook of Snow defines it as “particles of ice formed in a cloud which have grown large enough to fall with measurable velocity and reach the ground.” Or, as Eric, the secular humanist and avid cross-country skier would often say, “manna from heaven.” Technically, snow is a subcategory of descending ice particles, not to be confused with hail or freezing rain. Snow crystals are the building blocks of snowflakes, which can contain dozens or even a couple hundred individual crystals. On the other hand, the crusty and crystalline beauty of rime, hoarfrost, and verglas, which all form directly on a cold surface, are in a league of their own. Hoarfrost seems to appear out of thin air on cold, clear nights as water vapor sublimates directly onto frozen objects—a direct and magical shift in H2O’s state from a gas to a solid. Rime, in contrast, describes supercooled water droplets or fog transforming into ice when contacting a cold surface. Verglas is a denser, glossier, and more transparent manifestation of this transformation. Snow and rime are not mutually exclusive. They can join forces in the atmosphere as the snow crystal itself becomes a surface onto which rime can adhere. Given enough time, rime can overtake the snow crystal and lumpy balls of graupel form, (Fig. 3) creating a fascinating combination of meteorological phenomena. When even the slightest layer of graupel settles atop a hardened snowpack, we skiers know it’s time to drop everything and get outside. Atmospheric temperature and humidity conditions define the infinite variety of snow crystal shapes, but this planet’s water-ice

snow crystals are all six-sided. In our household, it was sacrilege to display an eight-sided snowflake decoration. Whether classic stellar dendrites (pg. 30), long, graceful needles (pg. 7), or blossom-like groups of bullets (Fig. 10), crystals are all based on the intrinsic hexagonal geometry of the water molecule. This is a simple fact of life, just as Earth is a spherical-ish planet revolving around the sun and 71% of its surface is water. This isn’t Mars, after all! But stay tuned, we’ll get there. From that very first test with snow, Eric knew he was onto something, as did his USDA colleagues. This new method of viewing snow eventually came to the attention of another government agency—NASA. The masters of looking at Earth from space saw a unique way to help calibrate and validate snow and ice images from afar with on-the-ground imagery. NASA?! Eric couldn’t believe it. At age 46, he was as enamored with NASA as when he was a young boy who turned a school research project into a massive four-inch binder full of newspaper clippings and lithographs he titled “Man in Space.” At age 16, he witnessed the Apollo 11 launch and humanity’s first moon landing live on TV. In 1970, his academic acumen and love of science was rewarded when he was selected to represent his high school at Cape Canaveral for the launch of Apollo 13. The ground-shaking, soul-rumbling experience of the Saturn V rocket’s mighty engines lifting off was transformative for Eric. On that bluebird afternoon as James Lovell, John Swigert and Fred Haise hurtled toward their ill-fated mission, Eric Erbe knew he was destined for a career in science. NASA’s interest in snow was beyond seeing the picturesque crystals that fall during storms. They were creating water density

Above: Fig. 11. Example of a depth hoar crystal collected from the base of a snowpit in Wyoming, visualized using a light microscope (left) and an electron microscope (right) Right: Fig. 12. Wilson Bentley captured over 5,000 photomicrographs with methods he pioneered in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Image courtesy Jericho Historical Society

highland-outdoors.com 35

Clockwise from top left: Fig. 13. Eric collecting snow crystals from a snowpit in Wyoming in 1999, photo by USDA Fig. 14. Eric surrounded by snowflakes imaged using his newly developed technique, photo by USDA Fig. 15. In the center of this snow crystal is a hole that may have contained the nucleation particle when it was formed. Fig. 16. Eric enjoying an early season ski on his “micro-groomed” trails on our property in Canaan Heights, West Virginia. Unbeknownst to both of us, his cancer had returned and this was to be his last ski of “Erbe Grass.” A solemn reminder to always “get out there!” Photo by Victoria Weeks

36 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

models based on remote satellite observations of Earth’s snowpack. As snow ages on the ground, it changes significantly from fragile, frozen precipitation into blocky, thick, depth hoar (Fig. 4). In the spring, freeze-thaw action creates a conglomerate of rounded, slippery looking crystals (Fig. 5). These ever-changing states of snow confused the NASA computer models: the constant metamorphosis often made the water density of the snowpack hard to estimate. The highly detailed and unique view offered by the method Eric perfected in the LTSTEM provided much needed insight. But why examine snow at all? Beyond contributing to ski area management, snow studies are used to estimate water availability for crop irrigation and predict potential flooding from a deep snowpack. In addition, understanding how snow crystals change within the layers of the snowpack helps experts identify and mitigate avalanche risks. The partnership between USDA and NASA developed and quickly expanded. NASA was already examining a wide variety of snow-covered regions with ground observations and jumped at the idea of adding microscopy to the list. Eric was perfectly suited for this task as he had been a collector his entire life. As a boy there were fossils, butterflies, moths

WINTER 2021

and rocks. Later, he amassed coins, stamps, records, and books. He collected soil samples on his weekend caving trips, as well as on a 40-day trek through the Himalayas in Nepal. By working with NASA, he could escape the windowless room. He traveled all over the country, from Colorado to Minnesota to Alaska, collecting samples from snowpacks and glaciers. Trailing behind his long-legged, graceful, and efficient kick-and-glide was a sled full of collection supplies: a plastic snow shovel, dewars of liquid nitrogen, styrofoam cryo-work chambers, forceps, and custom copper storage devices. Arriving at a site, Eric would join forces with the group to dig a snow pit, sometimes deeper than he was tall (Fig. 13). After collecting samples from the pit, he’d pack up, ski back, and ship home the snow samples in a special supercooled container. Back at the lab, he’d make himself a pour-over cup of coffee and examine the haul. His anticipation never waned; there was always a “hidden gem” to be discovered and shared. “Eric was very intense, both in his outdoor life and his work life. There was never a down moment. He never quit,” recalled Doug Nace, one of Eric’s closest friends, a fellow outdoor adventurer, and former USDA colleague. Doug remembers traveling to West Virginia with Eric to go cross-country skiing while Eric simultaneously collected snow crystals. Classic Erbe. Eric’s insatiable curiosity led him to collect samples beyond those that had obvious scientific value. What did artificial snow from a ski area look like? (Fig. 6) What about snow that had been compressed by the glide of a cross-country ski? (Fig. 7) Or hoarfrost decorating a single blade of grass? (Fig. 8) What might eightsided, carbon dioxide-based snow crystals look like on Mars? (Fig. 9). Snow, as a metaphor for life, is not an original idea. Fleeting, ephemeral, created in the outer reaches and then lost just beyond our grasp—crystals of snow and the human experience are often painted with the same brush. We are each uniquely imperfect formations, with an obvious beauty and exceptional relevance when truly seen and deeply observed. Every snow crystal has a nucleating agent, a tiny particle to which water molecules cling as they become something greater. Sometimes, this particle drops out of the crystal, leaving a visible hole in its center (Fig. 15). Fortunately, the crystal remains for a while longer. Everything that was built around the particle is still tangible, visible, real. Eric was such a particle himself, a nucleus around which I and so many others gathered and grew. Cancer dropped him out of our center way too soon. I’ve taken on the mantle of preservation to keep intact the delicate arms of his work so others may learn or, perhaps, simply appreciate the art and beauty of it all. Toward that goal, I’ve created www.SnowGallery.com, the supercooled dewar for his snow-related work. It’s likely to be quite an undertaking, but first I’ll make myself a pour-over coffee and check the forecast for snow (Fig. 16). w Victoria Weeks, founder of SnowGallery.com, is a digital artist and photographer living in Davis, West Virginia. Her late husband, Eric Erbe, was a great friend of the magazine and is sorely missed by all of us.

highland-outdoors.com 37

THE JOY OF THE

SUFFERFEST PART TWO BY DYLAN JONES Ten years ago, I was into climbing. Like, really into climbing. So much so that my best friend and climbing partner Eric and I decided that we should know how to build an emergency snowcave in preparation for big alpine mountaineering trips we never ended up taking. Avid readers of mountaineering books, we studied several methods and decided on one we thought would work in West Virginia. Instead of testing this completely unpracticed skill in a backyard like normal people, we figured the best way to make sure we could do it was to actually go do it and see if we could survive for a night or two. We’d need at least four feet of snow to build the structure to spec. But living in Morgantown at the time, we knew there was no way we’d get the chance in those low, warm elevations. We zeroed in on the obvious answer: where better than the snowy plains atop the Dolly Sods Wilderness—the highest plateau east of the Mississippi? Knowing the gate was closed and that we’d have to hoof it up Forest Road 19 from the Red Creek Trailhead, we rented snowshoes and trekking poles—postholing in deep snow with backpacks would ruin us in a mile or less. We packed light, taking a folding saw to cut blocks of compressed snow for the cave, a tarp to place over cut spruce boughs, twenty-degree sleeping bags, thin foam pads, a campstove to boil snow for drinking water, and a light tent in case there wasn’t enough snow to build the cave. Food was simple—nothing but coffee, bars, jerky, and butter to melt in hot chocolate before going to sleep (having some excess fat calories to burn during sleep helps maintain body temperature). 38 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

Eric Fizer

ost tales of harrowing outdoor adventures tell stories of resiliency, of greatness, of redemption. Conversely, outdoor adventures often become theaters of the absurd. But these stories, featuring naivete, neglect, outright stupidity, and, of course, self-imposed suffering, aren’t typically told in the pages of glossy adventure magazines. In our summer 2021 issue, senior editor Nikki Forrester beautifully penned an homage to the joys of heading out with a 40-pound backpack to suffer in the wet, wild weather of the West Virginia woods. This inspired me to revisit a wintry sufferfest of my own that took place way back in 2011, in a snowcave on the summit of the Allegheny Front.

The drive on Laneville Road to the trailhead was exciting enough. Eric’s Jeep Wrangler rumbled and crunched through a foot of snow along the windy backroad that looked like it hadn’t been plowed in weeks. We parked in early afternoon and suited up. At the base of the mountain, it was a balmy 20 degrees Fahrenheit. Some 2,500 feet up on the summit plains, air temps were closer to zero; the forecasted 30-mph sustained winds created wind chills in the minus-15 range. We both wore thick snowpants and three-layer winter coats over base and mid layers. Frostbite can damage exposed skin in a matter of minutes at these extremes. We donned hats, googles, and full-face masks—no skin would be exposed to the elements. We strapped on our snowshoes, shouldered our packs, and began the arduous four-mile journey up FR19. The snow at the gate was two-feet-deep; we knew it would be two or three times as much up top—our target depth for the snowcave. As we fell into a plodding rhythm, the cloudy afternoon faded into steely, monochromatic gray tones. The snowy forest road reflected enough ambient light that we were able to trudge well into the darkness and save our headlamp batteries. Breathing heavily into the facemask while looking through tinted googles, I felt like a cosmonaut floating across the surface of a frozen world in a malleable spacesuit.

Let it be known that I love snow. Now in my mid-thirties, snow still brings the same pure, unadulterated joy as the days of my childhood. Whether it be flakes falling from the sky or even just a forecast calling for a big dump, snow equals happiness in my world. To be in this setting, with my best bud, completely engulfed in a swirling blizzard, was simply wonderful. But the excitement transmuted into anxiety—we needed to make camp, and fast. There was no way we could build a snowcave this late in the evening. Fortunately, we were close to the picnic area about a half-mile from the top of the mountain and the intersection with Forest Road 75. Thankfully we had our tent—at least we didn’t skimp on this crucial piece of gear. The blizzard intensified as we dug through four feet of snow on the leeward side of a picnic table. Eric set up the tent while I got to work cutting blocks of compacted snow atop the tables. The snow was just hard enough to hold form, allowing us to build a roofless igloo that served as a wind block. We did the best we could to brush the caked snow off our bodies and packs and collapsed inside the tent, too tired to eat after unrolling the tarp and our sleeping bags. Our sleeping pads were only an inch thick; we knew this would be a cold night— contact with cold ground sucks away body heat as efficiently as metal cooling fins on an electric motor.

Although the blizzard had stopped and the sun was up, we woke in darkness. Heavy snow covered our tent—we estimated another two feet fell after we hit the frozen hay. We knocked snow off the tent and opened the fly, peering over the roofless igloo walls at a magical scene. The blazing sun hung in a bluebird sky, illuminating the smooth, undulating surface of fresh snow like a trove of precious gemstones. We sat speechless, awe-struck at the beauty wrought by the previous night’s fury. Those bouts of suffering in frozen darkness were well worth the snow-induced euphoria that suddenly pulsated through my tingling nerves. That bliss, as it often does, soon faded when Eric got out of his sleeping bag and noticed that his big toe was quite numb and had turned a disconcerting shade of blue. It could have been from sleeping on snowy ground with no pad, or perhaps the small hole we discovered in the lining of his boot. He massaged some life back into the toe and dipped it into hot water while I broke down the tent and packed our bags. We gnawed through some rock-hard energy bars and sipped steaming coffee, content with the morning’s comparably pleasant weather conditions. Four feet of snow had become six overnight; a few snowdrifts on the uphill side of FR19 reached 10 feet in depth. We pondered digging into one to create a shelter, but the fresh powder collapsed inward like dry sand as we tried to burrow—we pushed on with our plan to make a proper snowcave by nightfall.

Dylan Jones

The zen-like calm was broken when I had to stop and pee. I finally turned on my headlamp, completely shocked to see a wall of snowflakes flying at my face. Eric’s black silhouette suddenly disappeared beyond the illuminated blur of snow;

I yelled for him to turn on his torch. He paused as if he had hit a wall; an excited shriek accompanied the halt. We had been plodding along for what felt like hours, blissfully unaware of the blizzard that now engulfed our icy world.

highland-outdoors.com 39

Left: The author while digging out the interior of the snowcave, photo by Eric Fizer. Center: A typical Dolly Sods winter trail, photo by Dylan Jones. Right: Alien-like ice structures decorating a spruce tree, photo by Dylan Jones

Upon reaching FR75, we dropped our packs and snowshoed to the edge of the Allegheny Front, taking in the spectacular view to the east. Here on the ancient spine of the Alleghenies, one can view a terrestrial diorama unlike any other. Some 3,000 feet below, the Potomac Valley is dotted by the quarzitic fins of the River Knobs, which are framed by the towering cliffs of North Fork Mountain; the ridge-andvalley systems then stretch as far as the eye can see to the Blue Ridge in Virginia. These superimposed layers of Appalachia appear stolid and timeless despite their relentless fluctuation and geologic fragility. In the presence of such a grandiose tableau, I embraced a sense what I like to call sublime insignificance. In these moments of astonishment, the physical self seems to melt away. Cold extremities, burning lungs, sore muscles—all of these maladies temporarily cease as the dopaminergic and serotonergic systems in the brain do their glorious work. After the high, it was time to get low and do what we trudged all the way up this mountain to do—build our snow cave. The design was simple: stamp out an eight-byten-foot rectangle in an open area with a depth of at least four feet using snowshoes. This serves as the source of compacted 40 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

snow for sawn roof blocks and as the superstructure under which the sleeping area is dug. Next, a bisecting trench is dug lengthwise down the middle of the compacted area, all the way to the ground and wide enough to stand in so rectangular roof blocks can be cut from either side and placed atop the trench. When the roof is in place, the sleeping compartments are built by digging out the bottom of the trench on both sides to create an upsidedown T shape. While Eric worked on digging out the sleeping quarters, I used the saw to collect spruce boughs for added insulation under the tarp—there would be no sleeping on frozen ground this night. As I gathered our natural sleeping pads, the sun disappeared. Dolly Sods is notorious for rapidly changing weather conditions, and this day was no exception. The crystal-clear skies and calm beauty from just minutes ago were swept away by low clouds, high winds, and, once again, blizzard conditions. Day instantly became night, and a wave of anxiety passed over me like the clouds that now whizzed overhead. Did we start building the snowcave too late? I brought the bounty of branches to the site; Eric was furiously digging to make progress so that we could at least take shelter inside the structure as we finished our work. But it wasn’t deep enough yet for us both to be inside, so we traded shifts digging while the other person caught their breath and stood, unprotected, in the storm. We were playing a dangerous game—dig for too long and get sweaty but stop for too long and freeze. I finished a digging shift and stood in the raw condi-

tions. The incessant gusts of wind sounded like fleets of freight trains and swirls of heavy snow hit my body like sheets of frozen rain. The day’s bliss had quickly faded into another bout of suffering and a sense of panic crept into my bones. My mind raced with negative outcomes: we were woefully unprepared, and these conditions were just too much. Had the adventure suddenly become dangerous? I calmed my breathing just as Eric signaled that we dug the cave out enough to call it complete. We crawled inside the small space, set up our tarp-and-bough floor, unrolled our bags, and placed our packs in the entrance to block the door and seal in our ambient body heat. We made our jaws sore with another round of frozen energy bars and jerky; desert was melted cubes of butter in hot chocolate. Relieved and exhausted, we crawled into our bags, shuffled like worms into our respective sleeping compartments, and immediately crashed. This is where things really went wrong. We both broke heavy sweats while digging out the snowcave, and both neglected to bring a second set of base layers. Our damp clothes made our sleeping bags soggy, which significantly reduced their R-value, or the ability to prevent heat exchange through a barrier. The snowcave’s relatively balmy temperature of around 40 degrees Fahrenheit became a dangerous situation—a person who stops moving in wet clothes can become hypothermic at just 50 degrees. This is when a chemiluminescent spark flashed through my brain, jolting me awake from a shallow slumber. Thick,

cold air pierced my lungs as I attempted to sit up and slammed my forehead into the icy shelf just inches above my shivering body. My hands and feet were numb; I fought off an upwelling of panic upon realizing I could wiggle them. The wind was still whipping outside; I wondered if the cave might collapse under the weight of new snow. I felt as if I was in a frozen coffin, a la Ötzi the Ice Man. Would hikers eventually stumble upon our frigid bodies in the spring thaw? I had no idea how long I had been asleep or what time it was, but that no longer mattered. I was one muscle twitch away from bundling up, packing up, and hiking all the way back down to the Jeep—at least the steady slog would ramp up my body heat and keep the blood flowing. I turned on my headlamp to find Eric completely still; panic came back as I waited with bated breath to get a visual sign of his. I finally saw a cloud of condensation emanate from his nose, let out a sigh, and decided to wait out the night. I wriggled out of my bag and put on my damp mid layer jacket, thinking it would be better than nothing. I woke Eric, and through chattering teeth encouraged him to do the same. I crawled back into my bag, closed my eyes, and hoped things would be better the next time they opened. Fortunately, they were. I woke to see cracks of sun around our snow-covered backpacks; a calm silence meant the wind had stopped. The blizzard had passed. We donned our snowpants and coats, now stiff as boards, and jammed our feet into frozen boots. Upon exiting the snowcave, I couldn’t help but notice that I had almost no sense of awe—the previous day’s beauty had faded into a harsh, dreary, and unwelcoming landscape. I wanted to get the hell out of there.

Offering private sessions and small in-person yoga classes, holistic health coaching and Thai Yoga Bodywork at my home studio in Fayetteville, WV. Find balance and ease in your life.

erinlarsenyoga.com • 304-640-7320 erinlarsenyoga@gmail.com

The deep chill that penetrated the core of my being didn’t loosen its grip for several miles. Every bend on the mountain road yielded another stretch just like the one before it; the final mile felt like ten. With the gate in sight, we passed a couple who had just begun their ascent on cross-country skis. Brimming with energy, the woman smiled, and the man shouted, “Beautiful day for a ski, eh?” The best I could do was muster a dry smile, offer a perfunctory nod, and eek out, “Uuugh.” We hugged the Jeep, giving the inanimate lump of steel the same level of love that a parent bestows upon its precious child. We knew the heater didn’t work well, but that didn’t matter. An endless breakfast at Denny’s was only 30 miles away. Most adventure stories are about resiliency, greatness, and redemption. A decade has passed since our snowcave trip on the top of Dolly Sods, and I’ve wanted to go back for redemption ever since. There’s just something about doing something miserable, again. Perhaps it’s because I’m writing this while sitting in a comfy chair, with dry clothes, inside my heated home. Perhaps it’s because our brains are pretty damn good at remembering the fun parts and burying the bad ever deeper in the subconscious. Or maybe, given our relatively boring and secure day-to-day lives, we simply like to suffer in a masochistic attempt to feel alive. Whatever the reasoning, I think I’ll give it another go this winter. But this time, I’ll bring that extra base layer. w

RECREATION, PARKS AND SPORT MANAGEMENT

Fastest Growing Industry

Dylan Jones encourages you to go build your snowcave somewhere this winter (but will not be held legally responsible for your decision to do so). What could go wrong?!

Ranked

Program in the Nation

Online Graduate Program

Frostburg.edu/RecreationParks 0921/COE-2122-003-041/EL

Parks and Sports Outdoors Mag 4” x 2.375”

highland-outdoors.com

PROFILE How did you end up in West Virginia? I grew up in Harford County, Maryland. I was born in the country to a family of farmers. I even took a career as a farmer for a while, but it just didn’t pay that much. Then I got a job working as a welder for a power company. I got transferred down to Bath County, Virginia, to put in a dam. Two of the guys that came with me were from West Virginia, so that’s how I ended up over here. I lived in Clover Lick, West Virginia, and went back and forth to Bath County. That’s how I learned about Snowshoe. Then, the company went to Hurricane to build a quarry factory. But I liked it here and thought I’d try to get a job at Snowshoe. My sister told me, “You’ve always been a country boy, Mike, so I guess West Virginia is just you.” If I want a city, I can go over to Marlinton.

What was living in Clover Lick like back then?

By Nikki Forrester The first time I went skiing at Snowshoe Resort, I met this tall, smiley guy who checked my pass and effortlessly managed the lift line. He was blasting tunes while making the rounds and chatting with everyone. The next time I went skiing, I saw him again. Then, I went during the summer to ride at the bike park, and there he was, in his element just with bikes instead of skis. I see Michael Williams, aka. Mike Ballhooter, every time I go to Snowshoe—and you probably do too. His happy spirit and ability to smoothly manage the Ballhooter lift have made him a legend of the Snowshoe scene who is recognized far beyond West Virginia’s borders. The last time I went to Snowshoe, I saw Mike at the lift on the Western Territories and brought him a copy of our fall issue and a bunch of stickers (who doesn’t love stickers?). I asked if he’d be interested in being our profile for this issue and was thrilled when he agreed. When Mike and I started talking, I heard some giggling in the background – it was his wife Dayna, who worked at Snowshoe’s ski school in the early 2000s. Mike claims he’s a shy guy who doesn’t talk much without her around, but it didn’t take long to hear about his 28-year history at Snowshoe and the wonderful life they’ve built in nearby Clover Lick. This interview has been edited for length and clarity. 42 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

When did you start working at Snowshoe? I came up here to put an application in August 1993 and—this is no kidding—it was already snowing. I thought ‘it doesn’t snow in August,’ but it did that day. I started in December that year and have now been there for 28 years. When I started, I was the ticket checker. A lift ticket was only $20. If someone didn’t have a lift ticket, I had to charge them five dollars, which I got to keep as commission. I had a money bag with me and I had to write receipts. I busted one guy four times in one day at four different lifts. At the end of the day, I’d easily have $300 or $400 in my pocket, and it started with just a five-dollar bill.

What’s your secret to running the lift line at Ballhooter? I just know how to figure out where people need to come in and where they need to go. For me, the challenge is to get four people in that seat every time. Everybody says, “how does he do that?” There is only one way – you gotta have control over the line. Even I have lost control sometimes. I remember telling the customers, “woo – you all need to slow down, you’re about to run me over.” They’re eager – they’re all here to ski and I don’t blame them. Dayna: He’s got a rhythm to himself when he works. It’s like he’s in his little zone – like you see those traffic cops that are out there blowing their whistle and dancing, directing traffic. That’s him in his element. Visitors are really impressed by how fast the line moves when he’s running line. He can talk to people and have fun and bust them at

Courtesy Snowshoe Mountain Resort

MICHAEL WILLIAMS

I called it the backside of the mountain. That is a lonely spot out there – but that’s good. You can’t get in any trouble out there because there’s nothing to do. I moved there around 1984 and got trapped during the 1985 flood. There were two ways in and out of Clover Lick, but both had bridges, so we couldn’t get out until they fixed the roads. When we could leave town again, we went to help do the cleanup in Marlinton. We did quite a bit for the community. Everybody helps each other, that’s what I’ve learned here in West Virginia.

the same time and they’re still smiling even though he’s taking their pass away, or back in the day, charging them money. That’s what’s so crazy about him, he can set the standards with the customers, and they just have so much respect for him.

Tell me a little bit about building mazes for the lift lines. You have to put up ropes and poles to guide skiers in certain directions. If the maze isn’t set up the right way, skiers can fall, slowing down the lifts. So I have to come up with ideas for the best way to build the maze. I even had to draw one on paper in the summertime, I love this, I had color codes and everything. Dayna: His ability to tie off rope and make lines and barriers with ropes and poles has trickled over to our house. If there’s an area at the bottom of the driveway that’s really muddy and trash trucks are turning around in it, he will rope it off. It’s like his mini version of Ballhooter. I’ve seen him do it to the garden also. He’s like, ‘those dogs are not going to get into our garden this year.’ If he had it his way, I would have to back up my truck in his little lines.

How’d you earn your nickname, Mike Ballhooter?

What do you enjoy most about your job? If you’re not having fun out there, you’re not going to have a good day. You’re going to be there all day no matter what. I tell my workers that whatever’s going on in your mind, you are not taking it down to Ballhooter. It’ll be there when we get back, but right now we’re going to work and have fun. My favorite part is talking to the guests. I like meeting people and seeing where they’re from. When we first started, we used to have a lot more time to talk to people. Now that we have the scanner, it takes away from that. We used to have a contest to see where people would come from. We would see a lot of people from outside of the United States, a lot of people from Sweden. I’m still trying to figure out how they found out about this place.

What’d you think of the UCI Mountain Bike World Cup? It was just so awesome. The first time they came, I worked at Ballhooter, so I missed the races because I was on the other side of the mountain. This past year I got to see all the riders and talk to so many people. I had a blast. It seemed like at the end of the day, I was just about as famous as the racers were.

Courtesy Snowshoe Mountain Resort

All I did was check tickets and run lines, that’s how I got my name, because they liked the way I did it. About six years ago, on my birthday, Shawn Cassell [the digital marketing and PR manager at Snowshoe] said we need to

set up a website for me because I was Mr. Ballhooter. Now everybody calls me that. They call me on the radio, “Mike Ballhooter – can you hear me?” My tag says Mr. Ballhooter and it’s my license plate on my car.

highland-outdoors.com 43

You always bring a happy, fun attitude to Ballhooter. What’s it like to be a staple of the Snowshoe scene? It’s not just here – it’s everywhere I go. I can go out of state, and people will recognize me. It’s unbelievable. I get along with everybody. I can laugh with them. If someone’s upset, I’ll help them figure it out. My boss sees that and tells me, “You have the gift of gab don’t you, Mike?” I said, “If you’ve been gabbing as long as I have, you’d have it too, buddy.” Dayna: When we first got our house, he was in a car accident, and he missed like four weeks of work. His boss at the time, said “My emails are full of the complaints and the concerns about where Mike is.” I had a lot of people get ahold of me. They even sent me money because they knew I wasn’t working. I felt bad about that, but I’m grateful they were thinking about me. If you treat people good, it’ll come back to you good.

Why have you stayed at Snowshoe for 28 years? I had chances to take other jobs over the years that paid more, but I didn’t take them. I was supposed to retire two years ago, and I still haven’t done it. I just had to stick around to see what’s going to happen next. Every year there’s something different. This is the one job I actually enjoy doing. Dayna: And he just gets more and more famous every year. That does help, too.

What outdoor activities do you enjoy?

In the summer, Dayna and I hunt for morel mushrooms. I’m slow in the woods. If you’re going to find mushrooms, you gotta go slow. I also love fishing and gardening. I grow a garden every year and have so many flowers in my yard.

How has mountain biking changed over the years? Dayna: In 2000, you would ride your bike all the way down the mountain and there was a bus with a trailer. You’d put your bike on the trailer and ride back up the hill. In the early 2000s, they started putting the bikes on the lifts and building all the bike trails. It just grew from there. Now they’ve got a whole mountain of trails. When we first started putting bikes on the lift, there wasn’t a bike rack. We’d pick the bikes up, put the bikes on the bar, and we’d bungee them on. We had to use a quad chair because it was the only one that could fit the bikes without them hanging out. Only one lift had a quad chair and that was Ballhooter. But we made it work.

44 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

I hear you have a few pets too. We’re a rescue family. We have saved a lot of animals in our time. We deal with mostly Siamese cats, I don’t know why, they’re so snooty, but they are good cats. We currently have four cats, two adults and two babies. We went to Beckley to pick up the babies, Juno and Jupiter, which are a breed called Snowshoe Siamese because of their white colored fur. We went all the way to Kentucky to get our dogs. They’re a brother and sister that I named Biscuit and Gravy.

What are your hopes for outdoor recreation and tourism in the future? I just hope they keep it going. For the people that do come in, all I ask is one thing, what you bring in, take out. Don’t leave any trash behind. I go fishing and in some places all you see is trash. Then you have to clean the trash up before you can enjoy your spot. I pick up trash everywhere I go, and I just wish people wouldn’t litter. We have a fine gem here. Let’s keep it that way. w

Top: Courtesy Snowshoe Mountain Resort; Bottom: Dayna Williams

I love the outdoors. I was always outdoors in every job I’ve ever had. My winter activity is sitting in the house and watching TV. I’m a news junkie. I tried snowboarding, but that didn’t go too well. And I had skis when I lived in Maryland, but I didn’t do too well up here and gave up. But I do have a daughter Tosha and a wife that worked at ski school – that made me happy.

QUALITY INGREDIENTS, UNEQUALED EXPERIENCE.

INVENTIVE & EXCITING CRAFT BEER DELICIOUS EATS & TREATS FAMILY FRIENDLY VENUE INDOOR & OUTDOOR SEATING Weathered Ground Brewery

2027 FLAT TOP RD. | COOL RIDGE, WV | 304.223.2500

Open Daily for Lunch & Dinner! www.PIESandPINTS.net

WEATHEREDGROUNDBREWERY.COM highland-outdoors.com 45

TO OUR READERS Howdy, friend. We sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed this issue, because we really enjoyed creating it (and every issue before it). But to continue making Highland Outdoors, we’re going to need your help. The last year has been tough on everyone, us included. The magazine survived COVID, but the writing is on the wall: we can’t survive for long on advertising revenue alone. We are asking you to please consider subscribing to our print magazine. This means you’ll receive each issue of Highland Outdoors on your doorstep. Although we plan to continue offering Highland Outdoors for free at our distribution points around West Virginia, your support can make the magazine truly sustainable. We achieved a huge goal in March when we launched our subscription service on our new website. But launching subscriptions was just the first step—we need subscribers to make it worth the effort. Inflation and supply chain issues are real—the cost of everything has gone up, including the cost of publishing Highland Outdoors. Your subscription will help us cover the increasing costs of printing and distribution. It will help us pay contributors for their phenomenal writing and photographs. And it will help us hire much-needed help. Take a look at the masthead—Nikki and I do almost every job for the magazine, including processing, packaging, and sending out subscriptions and merch. This isn’t because we want to be the Jack and Jill of all trades; it’s out of necessity. Over the years, we’ve heard readers of beloved magazines that had to close say, in retrospect, “If I had known they were gonna go under I would have subscribed.” While we aren’t on life support just yet, this is our appeal to you. Getting more subscribers will help us avoid getting there to begin with. The last thing we want is to shutter our doors, or even worse, sell Highland Outdoors to someone that doesn’t understand what West Virginia’s adventure culture is all about. If we reached just 1,000 subscribers, we would feel pretty solid about the future. Please consider joining our 135+ subscribers (THANK YOU, you know who you are) so we can continue making and you can continue receiving Highland Outdoors four times a year. A subscription is the best way to guarantee that you’ll receive every issue. If you know someone who will love the magazine, consider getting them a gift subscription. If subscriptions aren’t your thing, we just got a ton of new merch in stock: hats, hoodies, and shirts that will keep you warm and stylin’ all winter long. And if this is still too much - we get it. Please know that your words of support truly keep us going. With that said, we’d like to sincerely thank our advertisers who ran an ad in this and previous issues of Highland Outdoors. Whether it’s patronizing your favorite place or checking out something new, we strongly encourage you to support the businesses and organizations who have helped make this magazine possible throughout the years. OK, that’s all folks. If you’re still reading this letter, we genuinely appreciate your time. Now get outside and go enjoy the Mountain State! Big Love, Nikki Forrester and Dylan Jones

ib e sc r ! b Su ow n

46 HIGHLAND OUTDOORS

WINTER 2021

GALLERY

These fox kits finished their breakfast before watching the world from the relative safety of their den. Mother fox and a third kit were out exploring the Canaan Valley National Wildlife Refuge in the fresh dusting of snow. Later in the day, mother fox delivered lunch in the form of a mallard duck. Wildlife photography requires a great deal of patience and networking—skills that I am just learning. It also requires a streak of luck. We feel fortunate to live in Canaan Valley and have the opportunity to experience nature in such a beautiful setting. The fox families in the valley prepare their dens for the early winter snows around the same time we begin to anticipate the adventures they bring. Photo and caption by Vernon Patterson

highland-outdoors.com 47