PATSY CLINE'S STOMPING GROUNDS.

Patsy Cline was a hardworking, gutsy woman. That rich voice stilled makes me ache sometimes when I hear her voice and think what we missed by her untimely death. This painting of her is at the Visitors Center in Winchester. The town just commemorated the 50th year of her death.

This chair was part of a set that she was crazy about and moved it with her from place to place.
Virginia Patterson Hensley was her name by birth. She married Cline and then Charles Dick.

At the cemetery, this huge bell tower memorial is dedicated to her. Bells seem so appropriate to me.

Jim and I then stopped by her house. Jim had been once before, but her popularity has increased to the point where you cannot park right in front of the house. Her mother’s home is just across the street.
The house is now open to tours, but, better than a tour is the docents we met,  two cousins of Jenny’s. Jenny is what the family still calls her, short for Virginia.

We had  such fun visiting with Pat, on the left and her daughter, Pam, on the right. They told us about the house, that it at one time had kerosene lighting. The Hensley’s lived on the “wrong” side of the tracks. And much like Janis Joplin, her hometown didn’t exactly accept her when she first became a famous singer. It boggles my mind how mean-spirited people could be to their fellow-man/woman and still call themselves Christians.

Patsy quit high school to take on three jobs to help support mom and her brother and sister. She worked at a Gaunts Drugstore, she worked the counter at a Newburys, and she swept out buses at the Greyhound station. Newburys was right next door to the theater, and they had amateur nights there. Jenny would take off her apron, run to the theater, sing in the program, and then run back to her job.

Pam pointed out a walnut tree that Jenny planted. She loved her garden and always had herbs and a vegetable garden. She had two children, Julie and Randy Dick.

She loved flowers and this is the side yard of the house.

Cousin Pat lived on a farm and cherished the visits she shared with her cousin Jenny as a child.  Her mother was a sister to Jenny’s mother, Hilda, who would babysit them when Pat’s parents came to town to have their wheat ground, or other errands. Pam was only a year old when her famous cousin died. She tells how the relatives excitedly watched the Arthur Godfrey hour when Jenny received the star award and got her big boost.  They have a tape of that event and she enjoys seeing the film and hearing stories about her famous cousin.  It was so much fun talking with them; warm and caring people. We bought a copy of a new book about Patsy.

I grew up without television and not much radio, either. I’ve never been star struck, but I love it when the famous person can be real to you and that is what Pat and Pam did for us yesterday, and we thank you.

We then spent the afternoon at the Shenandoah Valley Museum. A large complex that also includes a Civil War Battlefield site and the Glen Burnie House and Gardens. The house is closed for renovation. It was beastly hot. We skipped everything but the air-conditioned exhibits, and they were excellent.  I’m having family visit us today, so I’ll have to finish the museum part of my blog tomorrow.

THREE STATES IN FIVE HOURS

Before leaving Tygart Lake State Park yesterday morning, I went for a short walk. Met a pair of ducks.

Couldn't get them in the same photo without missing the head or half the body of one bird.


West Virginia might not spend much on their road maintenance in the mountains, but they are working to protect their wilderness.


Not only the emerald borer that attacks ash trees, but the Asian Long Horned Beetle attacks all hardwood trees. It is very sad. The area we are driving through on Highway 50 is said to be the most remote area left in the East.


Perhaps the bad roads are deliberate, to keep traffic down. You may laugh but I actually encountered that philosophy in a nature area of Costa Rica where the last bastion of certain hummingbirds and butterflies  survive. They don't want the roads to be welcoming.


Here is an identifier for the Emerald Ash Borer. A metallic green sheen to its wings.


We drove back through Grafton with its hilly, narrow roads. This is how you build a garage or car port when you live on the down-hill side of the road. We tried to find the memorial that states that Grafton West Virginia was the first place that celebrated Mother's Day. But we must have whizzed right by it.


Highway 50 down and up through this part of the Appalachian Mountains was a rough drive. We saw many of these signs, counting down how many more miles you have of 9% grade.

There was good signage here to help you identify pull outs. From West Virginia, we drove through eight miles of Maryland, then back into West Virginia. Then on to Winchester, Virginia. The road knows the way to carry our sleigh...


I like adventurous roads like this one, but in my car, not with a motor home. The scenery is beautiful. The driver doesn't get much of a chance to enjoy it.


At one point the speed limit was down to 15 miles per hour. For a comparison, this was like driving the California Grapevine out of Bakersfield before it got "fixed", only longer and with less traffic.


The road only rises to 3,095 feet, but it gets down to 1600 and then takes you back up again. If you decide to travel Highway 50, you need to know what you are in for.


We planned to spend the night in Romney where there was two choices, a Moose and an American Legion. The parking lot at the Legion was miniscule, on a narrow one-way street. They sent us to the Moose with a bigger lot. It was small, steep and uneven.  They directed us to a truck stop on a hilltop on the edge of town. We ate lunch there and debated the suitability of the lot.  About two hours later, feeling rested, Jim said, " let's go to Winchester."


By four o'clock, we were sitting in the shade of a lovely copse of trees at a huge Moose Club in Winchester, Virginia.

TYGART LAKE STATE PARK, W. VIRGINIA

Instead of giving Clarksburg a second look, we decided to head for Grafton, W.Virginia which is the turnoff point to Tygart Lake State Park. At only 20 miles, it saves the longer drive into the Appalachian Mountains where stops are few and shoulders narrow.  I enjoyed seeing old barns and shooting them from the window,


They are kind of an endangered species.

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Road signs warned that the road was rough. And they were worse than this in many places.


No mention of an extremely narrow one-way to get to the park entrance. One car wasn't quite close enough to the curb and it was almost a choice between, should we hit the car or ruin our mirror on the telephone pole? A three-inch clearance is scary, but we scooted by.


The road into Tygart Lake was rough as well.


And the distance was supposedly 3 miles off the highway. Well, if you count the first sign of human activity it might have been 3 miles.  Navigating hilly, hair-pin turns, with a few  peek-a-boo peeps of the lake and marina through the trees; at least two miles of cabins, then, finally, we find the camp ground. Three miles?  Nope!


The "good" spots, and  few of them, were taken. Not exactly level as you can see this guy has four boards under one wheel and he tried for five under the other.


This is hill country, nothing is level here.


This sign is sort of mystifying since all the garbage cans are open without covers? Raccoons can easily pull over a plastic can and check out our garbage. So far, we've seen a wild turkey, deer, ducks and a chipmunk.


It took an hour to get set-up for the night because the terrain is uneven, narrow, and difficult to maneuver with recent rains adding deep muddy ruts.  But, it is, in the end, wilderness, and beautiful and peaceful.


These older campgrounds were never built for such as we. We have no right to complain. Adversity is what makes you remember, and we won't ever forget our trip to Tygart Lake. Kind of makes me remember how critical we, of Murphys, are of flatlanders moving to the mountains for the clean air, and rural atmosphere, who then complain about lack of shopping and narrow, unmaintained roads.  Same thing. We do have to keep things in perspective and remember you give up certain creature comforts when you are on the road. For me?  Gladly. It is a great lifestyle.

CLARKSBURG WEST VIRGINIA.

We arrived in Clarksburg, W. Virginia, a busy city with lots of hilly areas and one way streets- no streets made for a wide bodied motor home. We had two other options, The Elks and the Eagles. We never did find them but the VFW appeared to have a huge parking area. When Jim pulled between the narrow yellow stanchions to enter their lot, I held my breath. The Commander happened to be sitting on the porch. He told me later he was sure he wouldn't be able to get that rig in.  The VFW parking lot is miniscule.  But, it was Saturday and you can see us parked in a bank's lot that runs right next to the VFW building. The commander assured us we would be okay for the weekend.
This old cannon has an interesting history, as does the post. Here they accept "Guest Members", the first time we'd heard the term.  We had lunch at the VFW, a gulllinos  sandwich for me. I always like to try a local specialty and it was stir fried hot peppers and onion with melted cheese, and a beef patty onTexas toast, which turned out to be the first sour dough bread I've had since I left California. I asked her to substitute a chicken breast for the beef patty and she did. I don't know where they got the name, but the sandwich was excellent.

The forecast was rain. While it was still overcast, we took a walk around a four block area and just took some pictures. This lovely church with the bells, we heard play music at 5:00 while we were reading.

Other lovely churches with stained glass windows. No longer open like the refuges of the 1950's where you could walk into any church. They were always open 24 hours a day.

Would have liked to have a look inside.

Built in 1863. The plaque says, The Lord Is In His Temple.

You can get a sense of the beautiful glass.

And old town;  there was a cemetery that looked interesting as we came into town.  Stopping with the rig is not always an option.

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An old empty theater, a broken window,  looking sadly uncared for.

A beauty of a building that looks worth saving. A woman I spoke to on the street, when I asked her what there is to do in Clarksburg replied, "Walmart went in a few miles down the road and sucked the life out of this city. So many local shops closed, it is not a place you want to live anymore." I was stunned to hear that condemnation for a city of this size.  The population is 16,798 from the 2010 census.

There are some signs of degradation, closed up buildings, for rent signs on storefronts.

Graffiti.

This is not the kind of beauty shop I would choose.

You don't hear or see much about the International Order of Odd Fellows. The historic sign has been retained. The building now houses a couple of shops on the ground level.


Fire escapes up the side of an old building, a rare sight for westerners along with the narrow streets and alleys.

We made it back to the motor home just before the rain started. It cooled off and we spent the rest of the day reading and relaxing.

The City has beautiful buildings, and cities have been known to reinvent themselves. I'm sure Clarksburg will survive to see another economic upturn. I wish we could have spent another day here to look it over, but it was nice to have a day of relaxation, too.