Canaan Birthdays

“Hey honey, I have a great idea about how to celebrate your 50^th birthday. How about we spend the weekend in West Virginia with a bunch of my friends whom you barely know? We’ll leave you behind at the house while we go out and do a bunch of outdoor activities you don’t enjoy. And by the way, would you cook us dinner the night of your birthday?”

These are not the words of a sane man. Fortunately, Valerie’s back has been bothering her recently, leaving her unable to swing a baseball bat or a meat cleaver to any great effect, and so I’m alive today to recount the story of our weekend.

First, though, I must correct a slight distortion on my part. I did not actually ask Valerie to cook dinner (the rest of the first paragraph is true). Rather, I mentioned that I had signed up to bring a vegetarian main course and Valerie, knowing that I’d opt for something along the lines of a quinoa-crusted, kale-wrapped tempeh infested habanero tofu lentil curry, acted in her own self-interest and preempted my Moosewood-on-meth style of cooking with the more mainstream choice of her excellent vegetable lasagna.

So, Friday after lunch we headed west loaded up with lasagna, birthday cake and winter sports gear. It was a quick trip out the lovely and uncrowded Corridor H road (WV 55/48) followed by a chance to gawk at the giant wind turbines as we traversed the twisty Mt. Storm road over into Davis. We arrived at the house to find Bela, Jen and Yvonne already there. The rest of the crew trickled in fairly soon thereafter – Suzanne, Susan, Peter* and Gina. Friday night was devoted to catching up and pre-loading on calories in preparation for the weekend’s activities. Our dinner featured the lasagna, Jen’s wonderful chicken marbella, salad and green beans, brussel sprouts, an assortment of fresh breads – and of course birthday cake and champagne! (I’m sure I’m forgetting some things). 

Relaxing after dinner at Doc's Guest House

Saturday dawned cold and snowy, with temperatures barely into the double digits. A steady light snow overnight had covered the area with a fresh layer of powder. After slowly rolling through breakfast and mustering the group (Suzanne and Susan were staying at a nearby B&B) we headed over to Whitegrass to do some cross-country skiing. In my haste to pack the car on Friday I had forgotten my ski boots. Whitegrass didn’t have any boots to rent that matched my old-school three pin bindings and so I had to rent the whole kit and caboodle – which gave me a chance to try some more modern equipment. Unfortunately, I don’t get to ski very often and so I’m a perpetual beginner. As a result Suzanne and I stuck to the lower, easier trails – Springer Orchard, Gandolf’s Glade, and Timberline. Jen, who is a more proficient skier, and Yvonne, who is just fearless and unstoppable, split off from us after Springer Orchard and headed to the more challenging upper trails. Bela and Susan went off to snow shoe, and Gina and Peter headed off on their own, as is their wont. We really only skied for half a day, as we got a slightly late start and I didn’t want to leave Valerie alone for too long (though she was well equipped with needlecrafts, books and movies). Also, it was pretty cold - the drinking tube of my Camelback froze right up, leaving me no with drinkable water in addition to ice cold hands. Along the trail I got a little extra amusement and distraction from my cold digits: thanks to her new extra-svelteness, Suzanne's ski pants were loose on her and she had to stop periodically and do a rather unorthodox XC ski shimmy to pull them up as they started to sink down towards her knees. 

Back at the Whitegrass lodge, conditions were packed like a Tokyo subway car at rush hour thanks to the good conditions and holiday weekend, but even so maintained its scruffily pleasant vibe. One cannot leave Whitegrass without soup and so I fought my way through the crowd and got a bowl of spinach barley. Overall, it was a good day, enhanced by an ongoing light snow.

Saturday night most of us ate leftovers from Friday’s dinner. Valerie had hit the leftovers for lunch and so I ran across the street to Hellbender’s and got her a burrito. While I waited for her food I got into a conversation with a couple of Whitegrass employees who were hanging out at the bar. They clued me into some snow shoe trails at Whitegrass. While we didn’t wind up making use of them on this trip, I’ll file away the knowledge for the future. Our dinner included birthday cake, of course! And champagne! This time it was for Bela’s birthday, which fell on Saturday.

Sunday’s forecast was for continued cold, with 20-30 MPH winds and more snow. Gina had told us Saturday night that any temperature below ten degrees should be modified with the adjectival phrase “fun-loving”, and so I report that we arose Sunday to gusty winds and a temperature reading of eight fun-loving degrees. No one was eager to get outside – except for Yvonne, who would give the Energizer Bunny a coronary if he tried to keep up with her (as an aside, I’m sure Yvonne is good friends with the Energizer Bunny and has had him over for dinner). Eventually, a few brave souls wandered over to see the B&B where Suzanne and Susan were staying, then we all regrouped at the house and set out. Bela, Jen, Suzanne and I headed over to Blackwater Falls State Park where we snow-shoed some beautiful trails. Despite the temps, I kept warmer than I had the day before – my hands had been a real problem while I had been skiing on Saturday. Still, our outing was a somewhat short one as we could keep warm for only so long. As we walked we enjoyed the odd wavy pattern that Bela’s old-school beavertail snowshoes left in the snow. We occasionally stopped to take pictures, but we really had to keep moving to stay warm. 

Jesse, Bela, Jen & Suzanne at Blackwater Falls

 After we were done we headed over to Tip Top in Thomas for coffee. It turned out that they had a light menu available as well and so we got a little lunch. I had a bowl of rather tasty spicy Thai curry soup with tofu (of course). We ducked into the antique tchotchke store next door so they could show me an accordion but we didn’t linger. Instead we headed back to the house where we found Valerie – who was hungry, having been left out of lunch.

Blackwater Falls State Park

Sunday night we ate dinner at Whitegrass, which is an interesting experience (made more interesting by a drive through a near whiteout to get there). For dinner they convert the lodge into a restaurant, with live Irish music and a semi-buffet menu. It’s funky and loud. I can’t say it was a dining experience I’d like to repeat again and again, but it was fun enough.

Dinner at Whitegrass

Our original plan had been to head out to The Purple Fiddle in Thomas after dinner, but given the challenging driving conditions and our general sloth we decided to just head home, where we ate leftover cake and Suzanne’s delicious drunken pears for dessert. However, the true highlight of the evening was a fitful sing-along lead by the resident out-of-practice accordionist. Gina and Peter left for home but soon returned – driving conditions had gotten pretty bad and they thought better of trying to make the trip.

Sunday was actually the nicest weather day – somewhat warmer and sunny. Some folks stuck around and enjoyed it with some more skiing, but about half the group packed up and hit the road. As always, the micro-climate of Canaan is particularly strange as you head out of it. While Davis had about two feet of snow on the ground, twenty minutes into the trip home all signs of snow were gone – we had an easy cruise on dry roads back home.

All in all, a successful weekend, and Valerie’s birthday celebration continues …

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*There was only one Peter H on this trip and so I don't have to use my usual nomenclature. If you're keeping score, this was Peter H2.

The Virginian Canaan, 2012

Canaan Valley is a place of mixed signals. On the one hand, it gives off a feeling that its best times, the boom times of coal extraction and timber harvesting, are behind it. Driving along one sees tumbledown shacks and dilapidated mobile homes, and many of the storefronts in the towns of Thomas and Davis stand empty. The area’s amazing natural beauty has, however, given it a second wind as a mountain resort town, though when bad luck hits – like this year’s snowless winter – that wind dies down to an asthmatic breeze. Still, the towns offer an enticing mix of mountain bike shops, art galleries, small inns, antiques, and funky restaurants. The proprietors tend to be outdoorsy types themselves, more friendly to visitors than mountain-folk stereotypes would lead you to expect. It was this post-coal mountain paradise that served, as usual, as the destination for my kayaking friends’ annual ski trip.

Except this year the ski trip wasn’t a ski trip. It’s been an almost snowless winter up in Canaan, and so the days leading up to the trip were filled with a flurry of emails about alternate activities – all involving the outdoors, food, alcohol, and relaxation. No one was concerned that the lack of snow would hinder our good time.


Thursday night: I arrive after the long drive out from Tysons Corner, including a few death-defying moments on the twisties of the West Virginia roads. We’ve rented a bunch of rooms at the Bright Morning Inn, plus Doc’s Guest House behind it. I drop off my bags in my room and head across to Doc’s. Nelson & Caroline, Dave & Cyndi, Rob and Peter 1 are already there. They give me grief because I’m still dressed for work (hey, I took off the tie). I retreat to my room to change, pick up a veggie burrito from Hellbender Burritos across the street, then return to hang out.

Friday: The day’s plan is to hike the Canyon Rim trail. But first there’s a kind of leisurely breakfast at the inn. I remember the waitress from last year. She’s a college student who works there on the weekends. She’s majoring in nutrition – a funny major for someone who spends her weekends serving huge plates of bacon and eggs, French toast, and breakfast burritos.

By morning our group had grown by two people: we added Mike & Allison. I had met Allison at kayaking rolling sessions but hadn’t met Mike before. The group did the Canyon Rim Trail as a loop hike, covering maybe eight miles on a mix of trails and forest roads. The weather was amazing for February – crisp, but warm enough that we all had our jackets off. The trail was squishy and muddy in spots with melted precipitation, but not too bad. As we hiked the edges of the trail I passed along Teddy’s admonition about Leave No Trace Hiking – that you really should stick to the trail, no matter how gloppy, to avoid mucking up and widening the edges (thereby leaving a trace, or not leaving no trace - whatever). In response I got a lot of shrugs.



Lunch along the Canyon Rim Trail

The trail had some nice features: a tall observation tower to climb, a couple of nice canyon views. We paused for a lunch break at one of the canyon views. At my instigation we paused to try and find a geocache, but despite climbing up higher on the rocks than I really felt comfortable with, we were not successful in finding it. At the end of our hike we stopped off to gawk up close at the gigantic wind turbines of a local wind farm.

Friday night brought the arrival of the rest of the group: Jen and Suzanne, Leslie and Mark (kayak racer friends of Cyndi’s), Peter 2 and Gina. Friday also brought our great group feast. First, at Cyndi’s direction, lots of people had brought cheese for a cheese tasting. We had so, so much cheese: gouda, goat, buffalo mozzarella, manchego, cheddar, and more. The quantity of cheese became something of a running joke for the rest of the weekend. After a more than ample wine and cheese course we moved onto the main dinner – Gina’s much anticipated quinoa loaf, with chicken for the carnivores. And more wine. And salad. And cheese. Desserts included a hazelnut torte I had brought from the Heidelberg bakery, cookies, and pie. Sated, we all just hung out. Conversation turned, as always, to trips taken, trips planned, and outdoor gear. I’m generally a little bit on the sidelines of these conversations; I simply don’t take as many trips as many of these childless or empty nester folks. However, the array of scotches on hand, both single malt and blends, gave me an opportunity to describe Teddy & my Scotland trip from this past summer.



I was the only one without a roommate (this was by choice) and as the evening wound down I was happy to retire to the warmth and privacy of my little inn room.
 

Jen, Suzanne, Peter and me at Lindy Point



Saturday: Saturday we split up into sub-groups; you just can't get 15 people to agree on any one activity, and no one really expected that we would. Frankly, the amorphous splitting and re-joining of subsets of people over the weekend is part of the fun. Some folks wanted to downhill ski (possible, barely, at Timberline, where they make snow). Some wanted to go to Timberline to use its gym and pool. Others, including me, wanted to do more hiking. Those of us staying on the inn side started the day with another generous breakfast served to us by our nutritionist waitress. Peter 1, as always, had a fully worked out nutritional plan – he was ordering a breakfast with a mix of proteins and carbs to give him sustained energy, but planned to go for the French Toast the following day when he wouldn’t need as deep an energy store. As we all set out there was a vague plan for everyone to meet up at the Timberline ice skating rink at 2 PM, subject to whatever else was going on. My sub-group did not make it to the rink.





Along the Dobbin House Trail



As is their wont, Peter 2 and Gina and Allison and Mike went their separate ways. The weather forecast threatened cold rain and snow, so Suzanne, Jen, the well-nourished Peter 1 and I headed for Blackwater Falls State Park – a place where we could get in a good hike, but which wasn;t very remote and so was an easy place from which to retreat if the weather turned bad. We set out to hike the Dobbin House Trail and wound up taking some side trails which took us out of the park into the national forest land. A very pretty area, with wild rhododendrons and mountain laurels, and the characteristic high meadows. A lot of this land was clear cut a century ago; the amazing beauty we see today is actually relatively new forest. We hiked down to some small falls along the Blackwater River. After we finished our Dobbin House loop we also did the short Gentle Trail, and walked to Lindy Point to see the awesome view of Blackwater Canyon there. The Lindy Point trail is 0.4 miles each way. The bushes on either side of the trail are thick enough that it would be pretty much impossible to wander off the trail. Still, it was incredibly heavily blazed – Peter counted fifty two blazes along the trail. That’s a blaze every forty two feet, perhaps little bit of overkill. Finally, we drove back to the lodge with the intention of walking down to Blackwater Falls overlook but it had started snowing and the park rangers had closed the long wooden stairway which leads down to the falls. Peter went down anyway while the more law-abiding members of the group checked out the falls from up top and read about how a 19th century travel writer, under the pseudonym Porte Crayon, had been the first to write about this area as a “Virginian Canaan”.

By the time we left the falls it was snowing fairly heavily and so we decided it was time to head back to town. We figured we’d stop in Thomas to get a warm drink. Along Thomas’ single thriving block we detoured into a couple of stores before finally making into the Purple Fiddle for our beverages. First, an accordion in the window of an antique store caught my eye. I went in and played it. There was lots of other cool stuff in the store too – Jen wound up buying a decorative glass window. Then we went into the Mountain Crafts gallery. Finally, made it to the Purple Fiddle, a local live music venue and hangout joint. At 3:30 in the afternoon it had a mellow vibe, though things almost immediately picked up with the arrival of a wedding party – a couple was getting married at the Fiddle! Bride and Groom, guests, cake, minister, musicians (the opening act for the evening’s performance). We decided to finish our drinks and high-tail it out before the ceremony got under way, since we figured it would be rude to walk out during the wedding and we didn’t want to get trapped there. We got back to Doc’s to find Gina and Peter 2 had already gotten home and laid out the day’s cheese supply. More cheese consumption and hanging out ensued while the various sub-groups gradually trickled back home.

Dinner Saturday night led to another splintering into sub-groups. Some folks ate in, buying groceries at the nearby “Stop and Shave” (really the “Shop and Save”) market. Jen, Peter 1, Suzanne, Allison, Mike and I went to the Italian place up the street. Having had my fill of cheese, I skipped the pizza and went instead for the pasta putanesca. According to the menu, the recipe was graciously provided by Manganaro’s in New York City, a place I know well, as it was one near my father’s office and was among his favorite lunch spots.

After dinner we regrouped again. Some people went to the Purple Fiddle to catch the show. Others caught some different music: I had brought my accordion, and the Bright Morning Inn had a piano (in tune!) in the common room. Jen had brought her guitar and some music books. The two of us proceeded to make earnest attempts to play a number of songs, sounding good on some while completely butchering the rest. Fortunately someone had thought to bring over one of the bottles of scotch from Doc’s, which improved the audience’s enjoyment of our quasi-music-making.

Sunday: We awoke to a change in seasons: overnight the snowfall hadn’t been heavy, but a couple of inches and a drop of temperature had taken us from fall into winter. After an early breakfast at the inn (Peter 1 indeed ordered the banana French toast; still full from the previous day, I downshifted to yogurt parfait and wheat toast) the day’s hiking sub-group (Nelson & Caroline, Peter 1, Jen, Suzanne, Leslie and me) headed for a trail just outside of town (past the Stop and Shave) which had been recommended by our innkeeper Susan and which had been hiked by Gina and Peter 2 the previous day. We had originally planned to do a short out-and-back hike but we enjoyed being in the woods in the snow so much we carried on and made a loop out of it for a total of about five miles. By the time we made it back it was the tail end of lunchtime and we were hungry!

Trees and snow

In addition, some of us were missing Whitegrass – the local cross-country ski area and home of an endearingly shabby ski lodge, an endearingly shabby staff, and some of the world’s greatest soup, so after loading up our stuff we said some goodbyes (some people were staying into Monday, others of us were getting on the road) and headed over there to eat lunch and browse the ski shop. Whitegrass looked strange in its almost snowless state; like a recently shorn sheep. The parking lot was nearly empty and more of their business was coming from the restaurant than from skiers. They weren’t serving their mind-boggling curried lentil soup, but the Mediterranean chickpea was a happy substitute.

Finally, a cup of coffee in hand, I hit the road, taking the southern route through Seneca rocks and heading home. Yes, there had been very little snow, but that didn’t detract one bit from a marvelous weekend.

More pictures here