Pieces of Daniel

A River Runs Through It

The alarm went off at 5 a.m. Daniel had packed all he needed the night before so he could leave at first light. Three eggs and two pieces of toast later, He was heading down 64-77 determined to get the mind-clearing time he needed.

First on Daniel’s agenda was to go by the New River Gorge Bridge to take a picture and reminisce. But he reconsidered, thinking it might be best to save that until the end.

After arriving at his campsite, he opened his trunk to grab his pole and realized he had forgotten bait. He could get some nearby, but he thought maybe it was God’s way of telling him to hike first.

He placed two sandwiches and two apples from the cooler into his pack, filled up his canteen, grabbed a few iodine tablets, and headed out. One of the trails recommended to him, “Endless Wall,” was down the way. Of the choices, that one jumped out at Daniel the most. He felt he had been trapped by an endless wall these past months.

In the morning on an early spring day, Daniel had the trail all to himself. The dirt and rock trail sloped gently upwards, meandering back and forth. About fifteen minutes after arriving at the trailhead, Daniel found himself looking out over a ledge to the New Gorge River. On his left he saw what truly looked like an endless wall. The sun was shining brightly on the opposite side of the gorge, while Daniel’s side slept in the shadows. The region was gray and void of color and life except for the vibrant green leaves sprouting close to the river. From water to wall, the vivacious buds appeared to be trying to climb their way up the side of the gorge but just couldn’t make it…at least not yet.

Daniel continued upon the trail, exploring several offshoots leading to ledges with amazing views, each one as majestic as before. Any of them would have made a great place to stop, but Daniel wasn’t ready yet. Instead, he continued along the trail through the evergreens, noble oaks, and rhododendron groves.

As the trail started its turn back toward the main road, Daniel noticed a structure straight ahead. It was connected to a conduit that went down the gorge to a large red building, perhaps a tipple, that straddled the tracks parallel to the river. Daniel’s curiosity got the better of him. He decided to bushwhack his way to the structure.

He underestimated how far he might have to follow the wall to find a safe place to get down, going past the structure before finally being able to descend. He was fortunate the bushes and undergrowth were only branches with buds or barely open sprouts of leaves. Otherwise, he’d have never found his way to the structure.

Having arrived, he could tell the building he had seen from afar was connected to a conveyor. Not too far from the structure was an opening in the hillside. A coal mine.

West Virginia was filled with thousands of mines, working and abandoned. Daniel had never seen one up close. Even before he knew his great grandfather had owned and perished in a mine, he had a healthy respect for them.

On the one hand, Daniel thought mines were fascinating. All the heavy-duty equipment pulling coal out of the earth to make the country’s railroads, ships, cars, and tall buildings. It was a dirty, challenging, and necessary endeavor for the country’s advancement, the world really, worthy of admiration.

On the other hand, mines were dangerous. A combustible product was being taken out of the earth without replacement. Fires and explosions were inevitable. All that empty space…without knowing the structure of the surrounding rock, dirt, and water, it was inevitable there would be collapses even with support structures in place.

Daniel walked closer to the opening to look inside. Unfortunately, part of the ceiling of the small tunnel looked to have collapsed recently, making any trek inward awkward at best. No wonder they wore hard hats.

Daniel turned back to face the conveyor belt, deciding he would follow it down to the river. A path that had once been worn was now overgrown but traceable. The trail switched back to accommodate the steep slope. Occasionally, he saw the partial foundation or structure of a home built into the side of the hill, long since abandoned. Thoughts of families sleeping next to a conveyor running twenty-four seven made him think of how hard the men, women, and children who lived here were.

At the base of the gorge, he found himself under an enormous tipple. Seeming safe enough, Daniel decided to take the stairs to the upper level. At the top he could see where the coal would come off the conveyor and be “tipped” onto trains waiting on the tracks below.

All Daniel could hear were the sounds of birds chirping and the river rushing by. But, he could imagine the cacophony of the constant turning conveyor, the dropping of coal into the steel train cars, and the train and work whistles.

When he took a deep breath, the air was clean and crisp. Seventy years ago, the air would’ve been choked with the smoke from the steam engines and the coal being burned to make coke just down the way.

Daniel descended the steps and walked across the tracks to the river bank. A small set of rapids formed around a collection of rocks that spanned the river. He managed to find a flatter rock next to the water where he sat and pulled out what was left of his water, a sandwich, and an apple. He finished the water, then replaced it with river water along with an iodine tablet.

It was beautiful now, but he doubted he could say the same during the height of the coal mine’s run. Probably a constant haze and presence of smoke.

Daniel had a new appreciation and respect for what his great grandfather had done. The scale of his operation, even if if it was a small mine, must have been impressive. That Gideon genuinely cared for his workers, looking out for their well-being before his own…the kind of thing people read about in books about heroes. He wasn’t a Rockefeller, a Carnegie, or a Ford. He was a guy trying to make it on his own, being the best person he could be.

Could Daniel be like Gideon? Did he have the courage to go out on his own? Is he or could he be the type of person who would put other people’s welfare before his own? Would he have the forethought to take care of his family even after he was gone?

Daniel was thinking more clearly now than he had in ages, but his logical side wanted to see everything in black in white. He pulled a notebook and a pen from his pack. Taking a bite of his sandwich and placing it on top of the brown paper bag, he opened the notebook to two blank pages. He folded the two pages in half lengthwise, and at the top he wrote “Marshall,” “WVU,” “BC,” and “Nothing. “

First, he started with the pros. Under “Marshall,” he wrote: easy to come back home to visit and check on the house, familiar, cousins there, good program. For West Virginia University, he wrote: Close but not too close, cousins there, familiar, good program. For Boston College: New, exciting, adventure, no reminders of sad things in my life, good program. Under “Nothing,” he wrote: ?

The cons came easier. For “Marshall,” he wrote: Too close to everyone and everything, will be reminded of family, afraid I will stay sad or worse if I am near home. Can’t feel empty like that again. Under “WVU,” he wrote: same as Marshall. For, “BC,” he put: lots of change. Under “Nothing,” he wrote: I may feel worse than feeling empty. I can’t do nothing.

He stared at the two pages.

He could go to WVU or Marshall. His cousins at either university could show him the ropes. Both schools had decent biology programs. Marshall was the closest, so he could come home whenever he wanted. Did he want to keep the home? He could move to wherever he was going to school. He’d still be able to visit with relatives over the holidays. But, did he want to visit?

Or, he could go to Boston College. It had a decent biology program. He wouldn’t know anyone. He’d probably have to sell the house. Coming back often enough to check would be too hard and he didn’t want to leave it to someone else. Did any of that bother him? No.

Daniel was proud of the bonds between him and his family. But how close was he now, really? Nothing was thicker than blood. If he really needed someone or something, he knew they’d help. When he was with them he felt comfortable, but he didn’t long for their company.

Daniel was feeling better than he had in ages. It wasn’t that he was happy; it was that he was “feeling” again. Morning for his family last night, being able to appreciate the beauty around him on the hike. He wanted to keep building on this momentum. He wanted to look forward. Staying here, he was afraid the memories would bring him down again.

Going to Boston College would be a tremendous change. He’d never been north of Pennsylvania before. Everything would be new to him. It sounded….exciting.

And that was it.

He would sell the house and get a storage unit for the heirlooms he wasn’t giving to other family members. The rest of the stuff he would sell or give to charity. He’d go to Boston before school started and try to get a job so he could meet people before the start of the academic year.

Aunt Judy and Aunt Leah would be sad if he left, maybe Uncle Job and Uncle Ronan. But Daniel also thought his being here made them unhappy. Perhaps his absence would help them heal, too.

Daniel saw two hawks playing above the gorge in the mid-day sun. Letting his gaze continue downstream, he thought about the water leaving the gorge. Flowing to the lowest point, joining with the next river and then the next until it made its way to an ocean or gulf, he wasn’t sure which. The thought of a long journey, new places, and people warmed his heart. He was leaving Charleston and going to Boston College.

The idea of going to college had taken him out of his depression, and the decision to leave for Boston filled him with joy. He felt giddy even and without a tinge of guilt. This was the best decision.

Daniel finished his sandwich, keeping the apple for later, and started packing up his belongings. As he bent over, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a small pool set off from the little rapids. He hadn’t really noticed much of anything these last months, let alone what he looked like, but he couldn’t help but note the reflection in the pool was one he didn’t recognize. He was no longer the boy or the young man Daniel. He was the man Daniel.

With his bag on his back, Daniel started up the path he used to come down to the river. He thought he should make it back well before dark and might even be able to get some bait to go fishing. Bass sounded good for dinner.

Daniel stayed the night at Chestnut Creek Campground. He sat by the fire waiting for the bass to cook and recalled the stories and songs he sang with his family the last time he had been there. He fell asleep in the tent listening to the peepers peep and the owls hoot. He thought about how April would jump anytime an owl hooted and how his mom would always light up when she heard the peepers because it meant that spring was here.

When Daniel woke up, he grabbed some coffee from the camp office and sat eating an apple in front of the fire. Would he camp near Boston? Maybe, maybe not. If this was his last time, he would be content.

After dousing the dying fire with water, Daniel packed up his belongings. He thanked the folks at the camp office and drove to the bridge overlook. He pulled out his camera and took a whole roll’s worth of pictures. There weren’t remarkable colors in the sky and the bridge wasn’t lit up in fancy lights. It was only a spring day with a few leaves sprouting from trees. But, every time Daniel would look at the pictures from today, he would remember his family and how it was the beginning of the next chapter in his life.