Damn Good Junk

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I took the back roads to Davis last weekend, and so many things along the way begged to be photographed. But often the roads are narrow or someone’s house is right next to the thing I want to capture, and I didn’t want to stop. Lucky for me, this amazing junk shop had a pull off directly across the road. Who can resist a man in a roof canoe peddling Damn Good Junk? Not me.

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I also liked the look of these gas pumps, leftover from another time but still regally standing guard over the toilet on the porch just behind.

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I have a very poor memory for routes, but I realized as I wound my way down old Route 50 through turns so tight you almost feel dizzy in the driver’s seat, that I’d driven that road many times before. Just beyond those tightest of turns is Cool Springs, which is the most entertaining (and long-standing) of destinations. My mom used to stop there every year on her way to Ocean City, Maryland, and the windy roads never failed to make her sick.

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Hot dogs, milk shakes, fresh produce, and a coonskin cap are all available for a price in the store that still has an old school lunch counter, and so much more. The walls are lined with taxidermy, and local handmade soaps and jewelry are mixed in with the most amazing collection of kitsch and the tackiest of West Virginia paraphernalia. It’s a real treat for the eyes. The shake was pretty good too.

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The grounds include these stone figurines, an array of barnyard animals, and an impressive collection of tractors and train parts that has clearly taken years to assemble.

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The closer you get to the mountains, the more beautiful the landscape. I’ve never managed to get a satisfactory photo, but I get excited every single time I come across the giant row of windmills on Backbone Mountain. They’re just so huge and dramatic.

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My ultimate destination was the Billy Motel, where I’ve wanted to stay for years. I must say, I was not disappointed.

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When I walked into the office/bar to check in, a man in the corner said to his friends around the fireplace, “Well, shall we bash Trump some more?” And I knew I was in the right place.

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The rooms have a fresh, modern look, and the tile in the bathrooms is clearly old but revitalized (through lots of elbow grease I learned). On the rough-hewn wooden shelf were two drink tokens to use at the bar, and beside the bed was a collection of stories by Breece D’J Pancake. I love this attention to detail.

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Not only is the bar full service and the bartender a friendly source of local knowledge, but the room is filled with midcentury modern gems.

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Outside is a quaint little courtyard with a buddha in the corner. Naturally.

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Everything was just so well done. AND, it’s in West Virginia. It’s no wonder the New York Times has taken notice.

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We drove a short distance to downtown Davis for dinner at Sirianni’s and then danced to the music of a very fun and energetic band called Qiet at the Purple Fiddle.

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The next morning I stopped on my way to breakfast at Tip Top to photograph this amazing mural created by Nellie Rose, a local textile artist, who I met for the first time on the dance floor at the Fiddle the night before. She was sweet and friendly, and I couldn’t help but tell her in what I hope was not too much of a fan voice: “I follow you on Instagram!”

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Seriously, friends. Thomas and Davis: They’ve got a good thing going right now, and you should totally check it out.

The End of Summer

Sometimes you have to make art out of dead flowers. And then throw a dinner party using your grandmother’s china. That leads to a gathering of friends, memories of both grandmothers, and a discussion about Emily Post.

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And then things feel just a little bit better.

A Genuine West Virginian

Today I visited two sites where construction is underway to address water quality and other issues on old mining properties that companies abandoned before conducting the required clean-up. When that happens, the Department of Environmental Protection takes over and uses the bond money the company posted when it obtained its mining permit to reclaim the site. 

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This site is in a "town" called Century, which, although it has a Main Street and a few others, appears to be just a handful of houses clustered together in a remote area without cell service, quite close to what used to be a fully functional coal mine. The trailer above sits just opposite the entrance to the site, which is unmarked except for a single metal gate near the entrance. Some say it was the largest mine in the state, but I learned today that some say that about nearly every mine in West Virginia, so I'm pretty sure that's not true.

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Walk a few hundred feet past the entrance, and telltale signs reveal themselves. Part of the old mine shaft remains visible, though it is caved in and impassable, and the dirt the workers have disturbed bears the unmistakeable shade of acid mine drainage. 

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I met some engineers at the site, and we stood around the truck and looked at the site plans before taking a tour to inspect the progress.

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The machine the mining company used to dredge this pond during operations still sits beside it. Over the last few weeks, workers have drained the pond as much as they can. Next, they will dig out the remaining water and acidic sludge and move it to another location to allow it to dry out and harden to the texture of regular dirt. The pond, once cleaned, will then be used for stormwater runoff.

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The color is shocking in person and makes me think I'm in the middle of Yellowstone. But of course, I am not.

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Truckers bring huge loads of rock and spread it in a drainage ditch to catch the water seeping from the site and channel it to the preferred location so it can't get into a creek.

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I'm strangely comfortable standing outside around a truck, the only girl amongst a crowd of men in boots. Their outfits remind me of my dad. I grew up inspecting logging roads and sitting on tailgates, and so this all feels very familiar.

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This "wetland" exists, I learned, as a result of the mining company's use of the land. Had they not been there, water would never have pooled in this way, and we would not see cattails in a random spot at the top of a hill, waving silently as frogs hop in and out of orange water.  

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Coal companies came and extracted a resource, bringing jobs in the process. They left a mess for someone else to clean up, and now people here have jobs simply because those companies did not fulfill their obligations. This "extract and run" strategy has left its mark in more ways than one. I believe it has shaped the way people here view the land, not as something to be maintained and cared for throughout time, but as something to use and abuse, as you might an old truck.

There is sadness and irony here, yet today left me feeling more a part of this place than my normal routine allows. In this space, having grown up in Doddridge County, the daughter of a logger, makes me a part of all this. Like a genuine West Virginian. 

Austin!!!

It's surprising to me sometimes how hard it is to trust your instincts. Given the nature of the thing, you'd think it would come entirely naturally, but for me that has not been the case. Some days are easier than others. When my friend texted a couple months ago to say she and some friends had found cheap tickets to Austin, there was no thinking it over. I was in. A few weeks later, I flew out of Pittsburgh with 10 lovely WV ladies to experience a town I've been wanting to visit for years.  

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Naturally, we made a beeline for Torchy's Tacos as soon as we landed, suitcases in tow. Having selected two delicious options, I got in line to order, only to discover my wallet was not in my purse. Panicked, I went back to my suitcase to look. I found it there, the result of a last minute shuffle in my rush to board the plane without paying for an extra bag (See Michele? I did it.). When I got back to the line, the cashier was holding the credit card of the guy behind me,  who had offered to buy my lunch. Welcome to Austin. 

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Next up? Boot shopping and dessert.

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For a girl who loves delicious food, succulents, cowboy kitch, and alt country music, you could not order up a better place.

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My one regret for this trip is that I did not make it back to eat these churros a second time.

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The city is sprawling, and we got to see a lot of lovely architecture and landscaping as we wondered through various neighborhoods.

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Good design was absolutely everywhere. Even the dry cleaner had a beautiful storefront with an amazing sign. Art is so important to this town that they designated an entire park for graffiti. Anyone can show up with a spray can and make their mark on this multi-leveled dilapidated structure-turned art park. (Though apparently the city's Historic Landmark Commission recently voted to demolish this park, making it hard to keep pessimism at bay.) 

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Next we checked out a lovely sculpture garden featuring the work of Charles Umlauf, and that evening we went to White Horse for some Texas two-steppin' and honky tonk. It was only a few years ago that I came to the realization that I do in fact love country music, so long as it's the RIGHT kind. I don't know what it is about honky tonk, but we get each other. No pictures from that venue because we were busy dancing.

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The next day we were moving a little slower, and so we meandered through an amazing botanical garden complete with a Japanese koi pond and a designated succulent section.

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Sunday afternoon we made our way to Jo's for--wait for it--Sinner's Brunch. Just the name makes me happy. 

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There we celebrated Liz's birthday with her family and some awesome live music.

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And then? On to chicken shit bingo at Little Longhorn Saloon of course. Real chickens. Real shit.

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The scene was in the parking lot. I took advantage of the moment to practice my portraits.

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Not only did we experience some authentically Austin bingo, but our girl Sarah won $114! 

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After we soaked up Sarah's winnings and the good music there, we made our way to the Skylark Lounge for some blues. Three standout events at that place. 1) The music was amazing; 2) I met a man named Cornelius Rumblejunk (I checked his license and friended him on facebook to make sure this was real. It appears to be.); and 3) Out back was a fire pit and Frito pie. We heard there was gumbo, but it turns out there was also this other amazing, very Texan offering on tap. Oh, yes. Not gonna lie. THAT was some delicious junk food. 

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The last day we had brunch at South Congress Cafe, outside of which was this quintessential Austin scene. 

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And I haven't even mentioned the run I did in a nature preserve with a coyote warning, which was tucked in amongst residential neighborhoods just blocks away from our air B&B, OR the speakeasy we had to have a numeric code to enter, featuring swings as bar seats and babydoll head lights...

Needless to say, I love Austin.

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