AppaLATCHa: An outsiders introduction to West Virginia
I first met Luke in October while he was on lunch break at the Arizona dude ranch we both worked at. We quickly became friends, and as we got to know each other the all-American love story ensued. Since then, we’ve gone on countless adventures including driving from California to visit my family in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia. Having grown up in New England, Luke’s perception of the mountain state was very limited, but after his visit, he wrote this beautiful reflection which encompasses the effect that West Virginia and her people have on outsiders.
AppaLATCHa
By: Luke Prescott
I had never given much thought to West Virginia. I knew WVU from sports and was familiar with Harper’s Ferry as the halfway point on the Appalachian Trail. I didn’t have much of an opinion on the place. Most people have the stereotypical view of it being somewhat of a backward place. A place that is full of hillbillies in the mountains that loved their guns and lacked the educations of us Yankees to the north. That perception could not be further from the truth.
When I arrived in West Virginia I never felt any of that. The very first moments crossing through the East River Mountain Tunnel to the sounds of John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Road” set the mood for what I would experience for the next three weeks. I looked in awe at the mountains around me. I had grown up in New England and seen the Appalachian Mountains before but not like this. These mountains were ancient and they told stories with no words. I looked down in the valleys and saw communities tucked in the crevasses of the mountain, and would later learn that they were “down in the holler”. I didn’t have many expectations for the mountain state but West Virginia exceeded all of it and more.
We explored the splendor that West Virginia had to offer. Jessie took me to the state parks she grew up going to. We saw countless waterfalls and rhododendron filled the forest around us. I’d never seen anything like it before. On one of our first days there we went and visited America’s newest national park: The New River Gorge Bridge. I had seen pictures and the engraving on the back of West Virginia’s state quarter, but nothing can prepare you for the grandeur of that bridge when you see it in person. We drove over it, under it, and went on a hike to a rocky outcropping that gave you a magnificent view of it. From every angle, I stared in amazement and awe.
I could write that about everything I did in West Virginia, “I went to X and stared in awe or amazement.” But I quickly started to understand the pride of West Virginia’s people. When they spoke of their home state, they would nearly shed a tear. Always willing to tell you of its beauty even with the caveats that are shown in most national media outlets. And sure I noticed the poverty and the struggle, it would be impossible not to. But I saw a drive in West Virginia’s people, even through that struggle, an ingenuity that you don’t always see anymore. “Oh, that’s broken? Well, I can fix that!” “That needs improving? Well, I think I could manage.” Most importantly the people of West Virginia showed me unmatched kindness. Always making sure I was enjoying my time in their home state. They took me in right away without questions, offered me their homes, and fed me like I was one of their own.
On one of my last days there, I visited McDowell County, one of the poorest counties in the country. My first perception of it was noticing all the trash that was in the river and all the dilapidated houses. All the signs that point to the poverty of this area that I had been warned about. Seeing these things is easy. To see the true beauty of this area you have to dig deeper and listen. Listen to the people. Listen to old homes. Listen to the mountains.
We visited Jessie’s nanny and this was my first view into its true beauty. This home told those same silent stories the mountains told when I first arrived in the state. I listened as it regaled stories of the past both distant and recent. About what was used to be there and the pride of the past. And you could feel the potential of this place. It would never be what it once was but it was not doomed. It would rise again. It already was rising. On our way out Jessie’s nanny gave me a parting gift of a lump of coal. It was a symbol of what built this area and I was happy to have it. It was probably no big deal to her. She’d seen coal her whole life but it was one of the kindest gifts I’d ever received and emphasized the kindness of the people there.
I left West Virginia with pride like I had lived there my whole life. They took me in. Adopted me as one of their own. Now I find myself looking for more reasons to be proud of it. I’ll never be a true West Virginian but the people there made it feel like home. Jessie and I have had a few playful arguments about the proper pronunciation of Appalachia. In the north it’s AppaLAYSHA and in the south in AppaLATCHA. I’d never tell her this but I’m a convert. It’ll always be AppaLATCHa to me from here on out. And when I return to that mountain state I’ll feel the burning sensation it gives its people, if only a little, and know that I’m back home in the West Virginia AppaLATCHan Mountains.
