Point Pleasant, West Virginia

For those who do not know me, I will say that I am a rational person. I see no convincing evidence of the supernatural, not of any sort. I know there are things that are not understood - yet. And I do not mean to say that those who have had paranormal experiences are lying or mistaken; only that one need not invoke nonexistent things like magic and spirits to explain what they actually encountered. To these people, something happened, but no one is sure what.

Hence the mystery of Mothman. John Keel's book, The Mothman Prophecies, details high strangeness occurring in the area in the latter half of the 1960s. All kinds of paranormal episodes were reported. UFOs, poltergeist incidents, prophetic dreams, the appearance of strange "men in black", mysterious buildings that appeared one day and gone the next, and even a flying craft that tried to raid a bloodmobile are some of these things. The book's titular character, Mothman, was reportedly able to fly at incredible speeds without even using its wings, and it possibly interfered with and manipulated radio and telephone communication, and most bizarre of all, seemed to have possessed detailed knowledge of future events, supposedly predicting the collapse of the Silver Bridge. After the bridge collapse, Mothman was never seen again.

One could ask why I would believe this but discount other things. I say it is not a question of belief. I do not believe anything in particular regarding these events, except that the dozens of witnesses to various phenomena reported their experiences as they understood them. So what then, if just one of them was accurate? Then something amazing that is currently unexplained was happening. The absolute strangeness of the reported events is what keeps me fascinated in this place and its lore.

The sculpture here actually looks unlike Mothman as reported, but it certainly stimulates the imagination. I have included a depiction of Mothman as reported by some of the witnesses. Other than all this, Point Pleasant is a small river town with little else. I took just a peek into the area where I believe many of the sightings had been before I moved on.

I planned to return once I was back on the road in a car of my own. There was so much more to see, not just here, but everywhere. At this point I knew I was not finished, and I would be back at it no matter what it took. On that sunny, cool August morning, I resolved that I would complete the journey as planned after this little disruption. Though autumn was coming, and just a taste of it was on the wind, I saw nothing but new opportunities. I turned my little car west and made for Illinois, not stopping but for fuel until I finally crossed through my front door, ready to tell these wondrous stories of what I had seen and done.

Travel Notes: Elizabeth City, NC » West Virginia

Later that day, I went to nearby Elizabeth City. I was going to wait one more day for the adjuster's decision. I decided I'd stay indoors somewhere, based on the terribly itching welts all over my body. Using my phone to find an appropriate establishment, I was quite disappointed with what I found, as even the best of them could not be recommended. As I drove through this decrepit and crime heavy city, I was able to see why.

I was stopped at a red light. Two men came sprinting through the door of a gas station to my right. Then they ran across my lane, right to left, and crossed the street diagonally, running through moving traffic. And there, they got into a waiting vehicle and left quickly. Not thirty seconds later, the police came. I knew I could not stay here, considering this happened in the afternoon, on a busy main street. I resolved to drive as far as I could, as long as I could, along whatever roads my GPS device recommended, with the condition that I go through West Virginia. I'd been defeated but I was not about to quit permanently. I had a large allotment of miles on my rental car and was intending to use all I could.

There was a total shift in my mindset. I packed away my camera, applied some medicine to the bites, had an energy-rich lunch, set my course, and was off with no stopping except as necessary. Thus I traveled north to Virginia, and passed through Norfolk, Hampton, Newport News, and Richmond. The shipyards at Newport News were quite a sight, due to their sheer scale. The Hampton Roads Bridge-Tunnel was also quite interesting considering its age. It was built in 1957. Darkness had come about the time I reached George Washington National Forest. It sounded like a great place to explore but I had to ignore it.

I made it to West Virginia and began to get very tired. The land became very hilly and mists filled the valleys and sometimes hung over the roadway. I stopped just across the border and rested for a bit, and thought I was ready to go further. I didn't make it very far, however, before becoming tired again. I made my way to a truck stop, something I had not yet done, and did not want to do, but I could not safely go on. Sleeping was very unpleasant; I slept upright in the back seat. But, I was closer to a place I found most intriguing: Point Pleasant, West Virginia, a place of high strangeness in the later 1960s.

Merchants Millpond State Park, NC

2009-08-26: The adjuster had inspected my vehicle but had not indicated if it was to be determined a total loss. I went to collect my things because I was tired of waiting. I picked up my rental car and moved everything into it. Then I went to remove some audio equipment and the tow truck owner told me I couldn't do that, as they'd hold him responsible for its absence. I was absolutely sick of the entire process so took my stuff and got away from all of it.

I went instead to Merchants Millpond State Park. I had the entire park to myself from the time I arrived. The solitude was quite enjoyable. Apparently the park is little used, and I wondered if it was still considered open. I discovered this when the ranger came to collect the camping fee sometime in the dark of night. Usually this is done in the morning. He was surprised to see anyone here, especially myself as I stumbled from my tent in my underwear and dug out the cash. The insects were waiting here too, though exhaustion finally allowed sleep. The next morning, I had no idea what I'd be doing next, but being that I'd lost my car, there was little more to do until I was able to purchase a new vehicle, or, if it was repairable, wait for that to be done. Either way I was done here. I had the drive back to Illinois remaining, and I thought, this could be the beginning of the end. I took a walk to clear my mind of frustration as much as I could, and I encountered this interesting amphibian.

Cape Hatteras National Seashore, NC

2009-08-24: Onward, ever onward, I thought, after this incident. Eventually the hotel was getting too expensive and there was little I cared to do while waiting for the adjuster to do his job. So I decided to return to camping, despite the stormy weather that kept ripping through the area. I knew Cape Hatteras was nearby and I found a campground near the town of Buxton. Conveniently, the lighthouse was nearby. I was disappointed that visitors were not allowed to climb to the top. I went back to set up my tent among the sand dunes and hoped I'd soon get the call from the adjuster. It did not happen, but I was comfortable spending a few days here. Then night came, and some sort of tiny insects with ferocious bites found a way into my tent. I was up much of the night fighting them. In the morning I was greeted with a cold shower. When things go poorly for me, they come in surges! I knew I couldn't spend another night like that so I packed up and headed toward the Great Dismal Swamp, as if it would be an improvement.

Outer Banks, NC

2009-08-21: The barrier island of North Carolina seemed to have much to offer, from shipwreck museums and sandy beaches to rivers and swampland. The area certainly catered to the stereotypical tourist, but there was plenty to do if that is not what you like, as myself. I could travel in any direction but which I came. I decided to investigate the area near the town of Kill Devil Hills.

I found a public beach and decided this would be the time I'd finally brave the ocean. Hurricane Bill, or whatever was left of it, was out at sea still causing some enormous waves. I thought I could watch and learn as other swimmers made their way through the steadily incoming currents. I waded out into the invigoratingly cold water, and waited as one of these waves approached. I jumped up, attempting to ride up with it...and was promptly slammed with a wall of water. I tried so many different methods, but whether I tried to slice through the wave or stand firm or alter my timing, I was battered and losing ground, being forced back toward the shore. Finally, a monstrous wave came roaring in, and I looked up as it swept me up with twice the force of anything previous. I lost my balance and was carried back to shallow water; I skidded along the sandy bottom and was deposited face first. I got up, rinsed off, and the stares from other beach-goers made me realize I really did it all wrong. No matter though. I tried. So I changed back into dry clothes and took a walk. Much of the day was ahead of me and the weather was warm and breezy.

In 2011, I saw reports that Hurricane Irene had destroyed many of the roads and homes in this area.

Charleston, SC » North Carolina

2009-08-20: Before I left Charleston, I took some photos of the Arthur Ravenel Junior Bridge, certainly elegant enough to match is native city. I also glimpsed Ft. Sumter out on its island, a place of historic events that changed the world.

There was, uncharacteristically, little to say about the stretch of road on my way to North Carolina. I simply drove through the Carolinas, and that was that. That held until I reached Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune, in North Carolina. I had been travelling along the highway as directed by GPS, and saw no suspicious turns or anything of the sort along the route. Eventually, however, I came upon a gated checkpoint on the highway. There, armed guards inquired as to what exactly I was doing, and where exactly I was headed. I explained that my destination was the outer banks, and that GPS had recommended this route. It was implied that I had not been the first to be in this situation. The guards convened to decide if I'd be let through. Eventually I was told that I would be allowed to go, as long as I obeyed the speed limit. Simple enough, I said, and proceeded through. I felt privileged as it was also implied that they were not necessarily supposed to let people do what I was doing.

Many interesting signs lined the road - tank crossing, watch for smoke, and other more cryptic numbers and acronyms. Fences and gates and buildings of unknown purpose were sometimes visible among the woodland that sometimes lined the roadway. I kept my promise and controlled my speed with precision. I emerged on the far side of the camp as dusk was beginning, and as I had become used to not making plans, searched until I found a comfortable rest stop at which to spend the night.

Charleston, SC

2009-08-19: A quiet Wednesday evening provided just the right circumstances to showcase the elegance of Charleston. The people of the city were calm, cheerful, and polite, even to myself, an obvious outsider who had just crawled out of a muddy swamp. The city was clean and not at all crowded. Historical buildings were abundant. I strolled randomly around the Radcliffeborough area and its adjacent neighborhoods. Quite serendipitously, I walked through a wrought iron gate down a narrow, foliage lined sidewalk, and came into a cemetery behind a Unitarian church. At first it seemed overgrown, and it was obviously very old (as tombstones showed dates of death in the mid-19th century), but then I realized that its particular look had been intentionally maintained. All that said, it was quite beautiful, and such a great surprise to stumble upon.

Later, on a whim, I decided that I would find a local restaurant for dinner. And on another whim, I looked for, and found, a French restaurant. I knew I'd be out of place (it was probably the muddy clothes) but I was undeterred, as my mannerisms would make up for my shabby attire, I hoped. I enjoyed Coquille St. Jacques, and a bit of beer and wine as well. The place was called La Fourchette, and I definitely recommend it. I stayed at a local hostel that night, and while it looked like it had been nice at one point, it seems to have deteriorated somewhat. Still, it was inexpensive so I tolerated it.

Congaree National Park, SC

2009-08-19: Swampland was what I wanted to see more of, and the South had plenty of it. I was bound for Charleston, as I had heard it was a very pleasant city. But on the way, I wanted to stop at Congaree National Park. As I got near the park, there was the unusual sight of many businesses advertising bail loans, plentiful enough for me to take notice, and the number of buildings bearing window bars steadily increased. But once I left the main highway, I was returning to a primitive, simplistic, and wild land, and I was glad for it.

As before, greenery was everywhere and everything. A new sight was the small lizards scurrying about or sunning themselves in the places where sunlight made down to the soil. Hundreds of kinds of insects crawled and flitted about as they pleased, and the mosquito nuisance was subdued. This swamp looked like its water levels varied considerably, and at the time it was drying up. Since this was an old growth forest, it was quite shady, which was welcome on such a hot and humid day.

Most of the trail was along a low wooden boardwalk, occasionally elevated above the low places. Most of the time it allowed the hiker to closely examine the many plants, animals, soils, and waters present. I made certain to move at a leisurely pace, just like everything else that lived here.

Oconee County, South Carolina

2009-08-17~19: My hosts, in addition to providing much needed rest, showed me a great deal of the local history and geography, such as the Stumphouse Mountain Tunnel, an incomplete railroad tunnel and the nearby Isaqueena Falls. There were Confederate cemeteries and monuments, as well as the ugly aftermath of the defeat, such as bits of local lore regarding lynchings. We also toured the nearby hills and the lakes that had filled in the the lowlands between them. Some places were extremely rural, and in South Carolina that means some people lived with no electricity, despite being only a few miles up into the hills. I also got to know Southern culture a bit more. We stopped at a "cash and carry" place with a tiny restaurant in the middle of the merchandise. Everyone knew each other, and while they may have been suspicious of outsiders joining them for lunch, I realized that it could be overcome by association with someone they knew, and that was the only requirement. It was very strange. I stayed for three days before once again setting off, eastbound.

Travel Notes: Cloundland Canyon State Park » Salem, SC

It was ironic that on this day, when I'd carefully planned to meet my friend at a specific time and place, chaos ruled. To start, since speed was my priority, I had let my GPS do the routing and I did not double check it as usual. I entered the address of my destination and away I went. This route took me through Atlanta. Traffic was extremely heavy when I got there, and the drivers were the worst I had seen outside of the Chicago area. Due to these factors, I missed my exit and had to literally drive completely around the city of Atlanta, the long way. Eventually I made it out of that metropolitan disaster and continued to Salem with little else happening. When I arrived, late of course, my friend was waiting with cold drinks and a ride to the swimming pool. I knew I'd be able to relax for a few days and got started without delay.

Cloudland Canyon State Park, GA

2009-08-16: Though Alabama was not grand in any particular way, I had an afternoon in Georgia to explore the Cumberland Plateau a bit more. I carefully gathered my things and prepared to descend into the canyon itself, uncertain about its specifications or conditions, but ready for adventure, as always. The weather was cooler than it had been, and that made everything more easy. Most exciting was the fact that there were a number of waterfalls in the area. I selected a trail and began the climb downward.

As with the other trails I had hiked here in the south, these too were empty. The canyon became more quiet and shady the deeper I went. Eventually, I found the falls, or rather, where the falls would have been. They had slowed to a thin trickle of water. Still, the stillness of this particular spot made it a special place. When our ancestors told stories of magical places, the abodes of spirits and faeries, this would indeed be the sort of place to inspire them.

The descent had been somewhat tiring, which therefore made the ascent considerably difficult. I climbed stones and stairs at a steady pace and climbed my way out, in time for the early evening. I planned my next day, where I would be traveling to South Carolina's northwest corner to meet a family friend who'd been staying with his parents. After all that had been arranged, it was quite nice to get back to tent camping.