On Wednesday morning I had breakfast with Parsons Advocate editor/owner Chris Stadleman, updated my blog from his newsroom, and got a haircut. Hadn’t had seen a barber for almost two months, and was looking like an aging Rastafarian. Chris dropped me back on the trail and I headed over the last bad hills of the West Virginia trip toward Phillipi.
The road out of Parsons led straight up a mountain and down its back side, through a long, lovely river valley, and up and down the final mountain of this journey. After seven hours of walking I was pretty well finished, and I stumbled into another great West Virginia story.
About 7 p.m. I was dragging down the last, long downhill into a little village called Valley Furnace, looking for someplace to stop for the night. I saw an old fellow puttering in his garage, introduced myself and asked if he knew some quiet place where I could pitch my tent.
He didn’t hesitate for an instant, inviting me to set up camp in his yard. I found an unobtrusive spot behind a shed and collapsed on the ground. A couple of minutes later he brought me some cold drinks and a lounge chair to sit on. And then he gave me the grand tour of his
digs — everything from his garden to his new gas grill to his camper — an entertaining biography and a promise of a hot cup of coffee in the morning. I had my tent up and was asleep two minutes after I pulled the zipper closed.
Good to his word, the old fellow served me coffee in the morning and sent me on my way toward Phillipi. He was so kind, so friendly, so helpful to a guy he didn’t know and would never see again. I’ve known lots of nice people, and have benefitted from the kindness and friendship of many people over the years, but nothing in my experience has prepared me for the simple goodness and generousity shown to me by complete strangers in West Virginia. I am determined to return here, but next time I’ll do it in a car!
I rolled into Phillipi in the early afternoon, far more tired and sore than an easy 12-mile walk should have left me. A brief consultation with Mrs. Hopson convinced me that a few days off the trail was just what my beaten-up body needed, and she offered to pick me up the next day and haul my ravaged carcass back to Ohio to recover from three weeks of walking without a day off, and get my pack fixed for real.
But I had time for breakfast with Bob Byrne, editor and co-owner of the Phillipi weekly, The Barbour Democrat. Bob and his brother bought the paper from their father in 1975, and their father bought it in 1950. The paper has been in the hands of only three families since its founding in 1893.
Despite the decline of the coal industry, in eclipse since the mid-1980s, the paper has continued to thrive. Although Phillipi is too small to support a Wal-Mart, those in neighboring counties long ago wiped out most local retailing, and advertising from service businesses (banks, insurance brokers, funeral parlors, tanning salons, etc.) now provides most local revenue. Legals contribute as much as 25 percent of the paper’s ad revenues, and West Virginia publishers continue successfully to deflect annual attempts to shift legal advertising out of newspapers onto the internet. Bob is the paper’s editor and its only ad salesman, and ad revenue has continued to grow, albeit at a stately 3 percent pace.
Circulation has remained constant at about 4,500, and fluctuates by less than 10 copies per year, despite the passing of longtime subscribers and the steady exodus of young people who leave Barbour County.
Next week I’ll pick up the trail in Clarksville and roll down a rail-trail toward Parkersburg and the Ohio River. The big hills are behind me, and fortified with some rest and good eating I’ll be
rocking into Ohio in about a week!
