Davis, West Virginia
“Don’t worry about it,” said Steve.
“Well, I’m just concerned about fuckin’ up someone’s vehicle,” I said as we walked along the pothole filled dirt road. We’d turned off of Route 32 just outside of Davis, WV and on to the Canaan Loop Road. The sign said the loop was 15 miles. I’d remembered seeing the loop on the map and the West Virginia Atlas and Gazetteer indicated it was a passable road. After 8 or 9 miles the road got real bad. Sheer drop offs on one side and 18 inch chocolate milk colored, minivan eating craters and ruts existed where there probably at one time existed a road. I stepped in one puddle and it nearly went to my kneecap. You want adventure? Right here, baby!
The day started off with heavy rain. After waking, making coffee and tea and swallowing a bagel, we retreated to our tents. It was easily the hardest rainstorm I’d ever experienced from the inside of a tent. I read a magazine and my 5 year old son sat next to me and looked at a book. It was rather pleasant considering the weather crashing down outside.
I thought back 15 years. I’d been camping a few times prior to my first trip to Blackwater Falls State Park back in 1994, but I’d never been in charge. I was with my wife Kathy and it was our maiden camping excursion as newlyweds. She had never slept in a tent before and naturally she looked at me to know what the hell I was doing. I chose the area because of the 24 Hours of Canaan bike race and even though I wasn’t racing, I wanted to at least see what it was all about.
We pulled in to the campground around 10 or 11 pm. My tent was nearly new at the time and it went up quickly. We were both tired after the drive from Pittsburgh and nearly running out of gas just outside of Grafton, WV. I swear when the old man came out to fill up our gas tanks he busted cobwebs off of the pumps. It was a rather spooky experience to say the least and to this day remains the most anxious moment I’ve ever felt about running out of gas in the middle of nowhere.
I remember strutting around the campsite with my new REI underwater headlamp that she had purchased for me as a wedding fit. I set up the camp and we went to bed. It was probably an hour after that when I heard what appeared to be someone tearing through our cooler. WTF??!!! I sat up, pulled back the zipper and was about to jump on the guy who dared to mess with my cooler when I realized I was face to face with a huge monster of a black bear.
I crawled back in to my sleeping bag and my wife looked at me.
“It’s a bear,” I said as I looked up at the ceiling of the tent.
And with that began one of the longest nights of my life. The bear munched on raw eggs, cheese, pasta salad and I think at one point I heard him crack open a beer. I could hear him breathing just a few short inches away from the tent. And then the wind and rain came. And I could still hear him breathing and chewing. And more rain. And suddenly I was back in a different tent sitting with my son, just thinking of that crazy night 15 years prior. I’ll never forget the sight of the crow perched in the tree just up from our campsite with a piece of yellow cheese stuck in his beak.
Blackwater Falls, West Virginia. Ahhh (Deep sigh). In case you have never visited there, let me just say right here and now that the general area of the Canaan Valley is easily one of my favorite places I’ve ever visited. There is just a kind of vibe that accompanies the area that catapults it in my mind to the top of the adventure world. I’ve met some really great folks from these parts and to hear them talk and tell a story you can just hear how happy they are. It isn’t an accident that they call the Canaan Valley their home.
And why wouldn’t then be happy? Davis, West Virginia is the highest elevated incorporated town in the state. There isn’t much there but what else do you need? I challenge the notion that unless you have a McDonalds or a Friday’s or a Lowes then the place can’t possibly be worthy. That is just plain garbage. For the mountain biker, or the skier, or the birdwatcher, or the writer, or the fisherman, or the hiker, or the kayaker, or the photographer, or quite frankly the person who just wants to slow things down a bit…the place has a lifetime of opportunities at their fingertips. After a fantastic ride or an awesome day on the river grab a meal and a brew at Hellbenders and that is really all you need.
My daydream turned back to reality and the lightening, thunder and heavy rain falling on the tent unnerved me a bit. There were 22 people in our party. That’s a pretty big crowd to get moving in one direction. But since I was the one who came up with the idea of having our multi family camping trip at Blackwater Falls, I felt it was my obligation to come up with a plan even though I couldn’t control the weather.
“Let’s take a drive around,” I said. “Maybe by afternoon the rain will stop.”
With that we all loaded up our cars and took off for some site seeing. As we headed caravan style down Rt. 32 I noticed a small sign off to our right. It was for the Cannan Valley Loop Road. According to the Gazetteer it looped in a bit and went past some nice natural landmarks and points of interest and then bounced back on to the highway. I figured we could cover the 15 miles in an hour give or take and that would be perfect. By then the rains would be gone and we could head back to camp for lunch or whatever.
As we drove we passed several pickups off to the side of the road. In the bed of each truck was some sort of elaborate dog kennel. The owners looked like every stereotype you can possibly imagine regarding guys who drive pickup trucks and run their hunting dogs in the woods of West Virginia. Stubble. Baseball hats. Camo shirts. Big guts. These guys were right out of central casting. We should have noticed though the odd looks they gave us as we continued further on down the road.
It wasn’t until I had to first jump out of the Honda Pilot, and move a tree branch that was across the road, did I realize that going forward could be a bit challenging. The potholes were the size of small cars. They were deep and filled with muddy water. The sides of the dirt road were lined with healthy mountain laurel. We were a little late for the blooms but some still had flowers on them. Had I seen them on a hike I would have totally enjoyed them, but on this little driving excursion all I saw were millions of little branches just dying to scratch the paint of our vehicles.
I was first with the Pilot and then behind me was Chris with a Cherokee, Doug with a Toyota minivan, Traci with a Montana minivan and Steve with a 4×4 GMC pickup. This road was most certainly not made with a minivan in mind. The idea of getting stuck was a very real possibility. As we bounced back and forth down the road we got to a point where we had to decide if it was better to turn around or continue. The road was getting worse if that was possible. When we stopped to better situate rocks in the road or to move branches to the side I could see some of the kids crying. They were scared. With no cell coverage and with minivans pointed one way down a road where only one car could pass I must say I was a bit scared as well.
“What the hell were you kids doing driving these minivans down this road?” was all I could picture some ranger saying to me.
We sent two vehicles up ahead. The Pilot was being driven by my wife and the pickup was being driven by Steve. I had at this point taken over the driving of the one minivan as Traci was in no frame of mind to drive. I left the Montana and went ahead on foot. I caught up to the wife and took over the driving. We had to be getting close I thought. The notion of turning around and backtracking compared to just continuing on ahead was not something I really wanted to think about. We couldn’t have been more than a mile from blacktop.
Suddenly the road up ahead seemed to disappear. I stopped the Pilot and jumped out. I ran up to the edge and whatever sort of road we had been on transformed into nothing more than a series of boulders, ledges and ruts. And it was steep. No way could our vehicles make it down this hill. It didn’t matter if we were only a hundred yards from the blacktop, this last stretch would eat all of our vehicles.
I jumped back in to the Pilot, did a 29 point turn, and headed back to the group. We all turned our cars around and started the retreat. As we bounced along the road our undercarriages hit here and there. And to think that I paid $50 for a Hummer tour one time in Arizona. That thing had nothing on this little excursion.
After things calmed down a bit everyone seemed to be in a pretty good frame of mind. I kept telling myself that the scratch on a vehicle will only last as long as you own that vehicle, but the memory of that afternoon drive will last a lifetime.
That evening I took a nice mountain bike ride with the guys. I’d read and heard about a trail called Dobbin House. We rode from our campsites at Blackwater Falls State Park. The directions I’d had were a bit cryptic and we quickly found ourselves wondering if we were on the right trail. Then we found a trail sign sitting on the ground with some color coded markings. Dobbin House was marked as the blue trail and we kept following the arrows. At one point we came to where we had to guess the direction and we rode through what looked like an area that had either been strip mined or had been hit by a fire. The ground was almost black in parts and it was almost like charcoal. The few trees were small and sparse. Suddenly we found ourselves barreling down a nice decent. It was only later did we realize that we blew right by where we should have turned. We continued on though and found ourselves right in the middle of a beautiful meadow. We crossed the meadow and headed in to the trees and went downhill again. We saw a sign and it looked like it was the edge of the state park. Any further and we would be on private property. The woods looked dark. They looked like the wrong direction. We turned around and went back the way we’d come.
We saw the blue arrow high in the tree and we realized how we missed it. We followed the trail. I was a bit concerned about someone getting hurt. I had been given strict instructions from the wives to not get their husbands in over their heads. So far the trail had been a bit technical but nothing was so bad that you couldn’t get off and walk if you had to. One of the trickier parts of the ride was trying to figure out how to dress. The weather was off and on all day. It had rained. It was cold. It was sunny. It was windy. It had been impossible to dress appropriately for. So after 8 miles of West Virginia off-road riding and after cheating the biking injury gods we decided to call it quits and head back to camp. We only had one steep downhill and then we were back at the lake. I went first and then George and Steve followed. Doug was last. He went over the handlebars. I was a second too late with the camera and missed it. He pushed his Bianchi back up the hill and did it again. This time he cleaned it.
At the bottom of the hill we stopped for a few moments and Steve went and tried to find his water bottle that he’d dropped at the beginning of the ride. It was at this point that we encountered a local rider. I never got his name but he had this big-ass beard. He was riding a silver Caffeine 29er with a Lefty fork. We chatted a bit and he looked at our map and told us some of the things about where we were and what we’d missed.
“Yeah, this is a kooky map. I can see how you guys got turned around,” he said. We described where we tried to get to and he knew just where that meadow was that we rode through. We’d missed the overlook that I wanted to get to but that’ll be for another time. I asked him where he was headed at this time of day (it was pushing 7pm) and he said he was heading to Thomas via the back way. He knew of a route where he would be able to drop down on to the rails to trail system.
We also talked about the Canaan Loop Road. He knew just where we were and he knew just where we stopped and turned around.
“I love my pickup truck, but even I wouldn’t take it down that hill where you were. And then once you get to the bottom there is a stream you have to cross,” he said. His manner of speaking was most enjoyable to listen to. He spoke in a way where you could easily listen to story after story of his experiences in the wilds of West Virginia.
So no one got hurt. The kids had a fantastic time. The guys got to experience some trail riding that they are certainly not used to. The gals took their walk. We had some good food and some good beer and quite a few laughs. Memories. Good ones. In Davis, West Virginia.
Hellbender
Davis, West Virginia
Camping and going out to eat at a restaurant usually aren’t two activities that mesh well together. That being said, the occasional mean at a small, off the beaten path, establishment can be very rewarding. In order for a place to survive in a rural area it needs to be frequented by locals and locals generally won’t tolerate bad food, expensive prices and crappy portions or any combination thereof. So when I heard that a small contingent of our crew was heading to get Mexican food in the town of Davis, I assumed the best case situation. And in this case, I assumed correctly.
Hellbender Burritos is located on William Avenue right smack dab in the middle of downtown Davis. Considering there aren’t many dining options in this great little town, chances are good that if you are in town and looking for a place to eat, you will at least poke your head inside and see what it is all about. What you will find is a dining experience that is completely worthwhile, absolutely affordable and well worth the short wait if there is one.
My first taste of their food came from a doggy bag that the missus brought back to the campground. The four guys in our group took a nice mountain bike ride and when we returned we were all pleasantly surprised with leftovers. Needless to say the hunger we all developed on our ride was satiated most agreeably. So when the missus suggested our entire family visit the place the next afternoon for another meal I was very excited.
We timed it just right for a Sunday afternoon. There were several tables open and we quickly grabbed one. Shortly after we were seated the remaining tables filled up in no time. One particular party was coaxed inside by my wife. They peeked in to look as my wife was running out to the car for a forgotten item and she regaled the small group with tales of huge burritos and tasty salsa and chips.
I had the Gendarme. For $7.50 I got a brick sized burrito filled with grilled steak and cheese as well as peppers, onions, sautéed mushrooms and queso. I’m not really sure what queso is but the whole thing was rather tasty. Some chips and salsa rounded out the feast.
Probably 15 people from our group ate at Hellbenders and I never heard anything but the highest praise. The atmosphere inside is very welcoming and our waitress Kaitlyn was on top of the ball to say the least. She juggled the crowd with amazing swiftness and courtesy. As you are waiting for your meal enjoy a cold draft of Guinness or something from the local Mountain State Brewing Company. They also have bottles of Saranac if that suits you better.
Give these guys a shot. You will more than likely leave the restaurant and be compelled to tell some complete stranger standing outside looking at the menu to go on inside.