By Marlene Adkins Thames

I am a Mud River West Virginia Girl! More specifically, I am a Conley Branch Girl. Although not born on Conley, most of my childhood was spent there, leaving me with many wonderful memories of that area alive within me. There was so much to love. I loved the open fields that my great-grandfather, Lorenza Adkins, and my grandfather, Alfred, plus his siblings, cleared when they settled down on Conley. Being small at the time, I thought the mountains were the biggest in the whole world.

I loved the mountains that surrounded our little three room house and Grandpa and Grandma Adkins’ four room house. It was as if the mountains were there to protect us.

The mountain to the east of our house was my absolute favorite. Amongst all of the trees that are indigenous to the area stood a huge pine tree. It jutted out far beyond the top of the forest as if to say, “I am here. I will protect and shelter you from harm”. I made several trips a week up the mountain to that tree. Underneath the tree’s canopy was a solid bed of moss. Mountain Tea, with sweet, red berries, provided substance. This was my refuge; this was my solace.

One day, Daddy broke his back as he and I hauled coal down from the little abandoned mine on our property. I ran screaming to find my Mother, who sent me running to the only neighbor that had a vehicle. After the neighbor came with his truck and lifted Daddy onto the bed on a makeshift stretcher, I ran up the hill to my tree, my solace. I was so scared. I found comfort there.

There were other sad times when I sought out the comfort of the mountain. I ran to my tree when my grandmother died. I ran there when I got into trouble with my parents. I ran there when my cat disappeared and when my grandma’s dog died. That tree and that mountain shared some of my darkest moments, but I always felt better because they provided me a place where I could grieve alone, be scared of what was happening, or to simply be happy on “my” mountain.

I wish I could run there today, but the mining companies came after I left. Neither Conley nor Mud River will ever be the same. In my heart, I know “my” mountain is gone.

Conley is now blocked off with a “No Trespassing” sign at what used to be the turn off to enter the hollow. I can no longer go up the hollow to enjoy the scenes from my childhood. The mining company won’t let me. The mountain at the turn into Conley is even gone. No trees. No wild flowers. No squirrels. Like a lot of places in the Appalachians, nothing is left except what the mining company did not want.

Even the oldest mountains in the world could not stand up to the power of money.

I pray that those of us who love this land are strong enough to stand up for the mountains that remain. They have provided strength, solace, protection, and even life, to us. It is now our turn to return the favor.

Penny Loeb is a distinguished author and the web designer for http://www.wvcoalfield.com , who has generously allowed her articles to be reprinted here.

Big Ugly is one of those place names newspaper columnists grab on a slow news day. Add that to Odd and numerous other unusual town names, and it’s an easy story. William Weld, former Governor of Massachusetts and budding novelist titled his second book Big Ugly because he liked the name. A political satire with a touch of the current TV show “Mister Sterling,” the book tells how an honorable senior senator from Big Ugly, W.V., helps a novice senator maneuver the halls of Congress.

In reality, Big Ugly is a meandering creek stretching nearly 20 miles from Route 119 northeast of Chapmanville in Boone County to where it meets the Guyandotte River in Gill, north of Harts in Lincoln County.

As you drive along the creek, what strikes you first may be the abundance of tall pine trees, their branches swaying above the broad Big Ugly Creek. Hills rise steeply on both sides of the creek, but occasionally enough flat land spreads out for a small farm.

Big Ugly Creek was where Michael Tierney and his wife chose to settle after Michael was drawn to the coalfields to help out after the floods of 1977 that nearly wiped out Williamson in Mingo County. Over the years, the Tierneys and other local residents transformed a vacant elementary school into a community center with a library and computer lab. It houses West Virginia Dreamers, which is sponsored by Step by Step, which Tierney directs. Dreamers provides families who sign up a rich array of field trips and artistic endeavors for their children. One summer they wrote and presented a full evening of short plays about life in their communities. In 2002, Dreamers was one of 19 programs nationwide honored by the Pew Partnership for Civic Change as “Solutions for America.” (see article under links)

The Community Center

Big Ugly Creek is also at the southern end of the state’s largest mountaintop removal mine, Arch Coal’s Hobet 21. The mine stretches nearly 15 miles from near Julian, north of Madison in Boone County to right above the end of Fawn Hollow (see photo in gallery), which joins Big Ugly, not far from the community center.

Mouth of Fawn Hollow

The Cochrans live at the top of Fawn Hollow. During the summer, the Community Center is the nerve center for a number of volunteer groups, including Americorps, who work with the kids and help renovate homes. When volunteeers want to see a surface mine, Tierney sends them up the Cochrans where they had been able to look out over Hobet 21. In fact, the Cochrans lease rights to mine the surface of more than 100 acres.

For the Cohrans, Hobet 21 has been the best of neighbors. When the blasts began about five years ago, their well water did get smelly and discolored. But Hobet 21 officials provided drinking water and fixed the well. “They were awfully nice about helping us,” Cochran said. “The mine comes up here and checks the water all the time.” Now when the mine is about to blast, Cochran gets a phone call so nobody is in range of falling rocks.

Cochran is critical of some of his neighbors who have complained about the blasting. “A lot of people complain and shouldn’t,” he said. “There were people plumb down creek about five miles complaining about their well. They want something done for nothing.”

Mining is essential, Cochran believes. “They have to get the coal out to keep the lights on,” he said. “Some of those men just work day to day to make a living.”

Nonetheless, several of his neighbors seem to have legitimate complaints about the blasting. None of them want the mining to end. But they haven’t had the same satisfactory resolution of their problems.

Gail Workman lives within sight of the mouth of Fawn Hollow. The blasting has eased up in the past couple of years. But before that, their house used to shake with regularity, often about the time her son came home from school. “The first time they blasted, they blasted the bathroom window out,” Workman said. “I didn’t know what it was. We were like, holy cow.”

Since their house is nearly 50 years old, the windows are made of cut glass and the frames must be hand built. They just finished repairing the dry wall. There were gaps at the tops of all the walls. Every time there is a blast, she rushed out and checked the clips on the large front window to be sure it wouldn’t fall out.

In the beginning, Workman wrote down the times and dates of the blasts. But this was no help when she finally called Hobet 21. Since she had no pre-blast survey to show the previous condition of her house, the mine would not do any repairs.

Her husband’s parents, Lacy and Brenda Workman, live nearby, and they had considerable blasting damage as well. They have spent $4,200 on a purification system for their well water because of what they believe is damage from the blasting. They didn’t get any help from Hobet 21, and only called the Department of Environmental Protection once. They were told that they live 10 miles from the mine. “I can go on a four-wheeler and take anyone to the job; it’s three miles,” Lacy Workman said.

In early March, he and neighbors met at the community center about trying to get public water up Big Ugly. There was another concern, though. Brenda Workman’s cousin had recently been paid $100 by someone who did core drilling on his property for Massey Energy. He was told that Massey would be mining on Big Ugly within a year. Workman wondered whether public water would be a futile effort. Would Massey just buy (or force) residents out?

A preacher, Workman is strongly in support of mining. “I have parishioners who work on mines,” he said. “I’ve never been against it; I just wish they would stop shaking the houses.” He’s lived on the creek for nearly 57 years. But the day may be coming, he said, when the mines will force him to leave.

The extent of the blasting problems do seem to be supported by numerous complaints to DEP over several years. Hobet 21 tends to have some of the largest blasts in the state, sometimes 800,000 to more than 1 million pounds of explosives. In fact, DEP twice came close to shutting the mine down over blasting violations. (see story) DEP cited the mine four times between October 1998 and June 1999. Instead of shutting Hobet down, DEP negotiated a settlement whereby the mine would reduce the blasts. That didn’t seem to work for long. After more complaints and violations, another threat of shut down was issued in February 2001. Another settlement was negotiated in April 2001, and Hobet agreed to reduce the blasts. If not, DEP said it would immediately shut the mine down.

During the discussions with Hobet, DEP noted at times that it hadn’t received any new complaints. This may not accurately show the extent of the blasting problems. A number of the people on Big Ugly, like Gail Workman, did not know they should complain to DEP

In fact, the only way the Billy Baldwins found out about DEP was when he happened to be talking about blasting to someone at the gas station where he works in Chapmanville. They live about three miles east of Fawn Hollow. Yet in May 2002, they finally called DEP about their well that had gone dry.

The home of the Billy Baldwins

The Baldwins live at the mouth of a narrow hollow that backs up the edge of the mountain, probably a couple of miles from the mine. The geology of an area has been found to magnify blasts. However, DEP told the Baldwins they were too far away to have any damage from Hobet 21. “I think it’s because we live in this cubby hole,” Mrs. Baldwin said. And it wasn’t just the Balwdin’s well that was damaged. A few years earlier, Mrs. Baldwin’s mother’s home at Poplar Fork was damaged. They had to hire people to replace the sheet rock. “My mom couldn’t find the numbers of anyone to do anything,” she said.

Penny Loeb is a distinguished author and the web designer for http://www.wvcoalfield.com , who has generously allowed her articles to be reprinted here.

Mud River hasn’t been much of a community for more than two decades. The Post Office and the school have been gone for a long time. But for the past 30 or so years it has been home to about 60 families.

The residents had two churches and a ballfield. The flat land along the river was dark and fertile. Corn and vegetables grew well on the few acres. Some families had a few horses and cattle pastured on the flat land.

No longer. Where there were once some 60 families, only five remained at the beginning of 1998. Arch Coal Inc.’s Hobet21 mine is expanding across the Boone County line into Lincoln. As in Blair, the land company offered to buy the houses. In Mud River, many people were given houses in other areas. After the people moved out, the houses in Mud River were left vacant. A few were burned. But more often they are partially stripped by vandals and left with broken windows and ragged holes. “It’s depressing,” says Lorene Caudill, one of the few remaining residents.

In early 1997, Big John, the mine’s 20-story dragline, had to walk from the old mining area to the new one above Mud River. The easiest route was across the road-about 40 feet up. Giant machines dumped enough earth to create a high bridge for Big John. Round midnight on one of the coldest nights of the year it crept across. It took another week to clear the dirt from the road. Meanwhile the residents of Mud River had to travel several extra miles to reach the four-lane highway, Corridor G.

West Virginia’s then longest valley fill was approved at Connelly Branch, less than half a mile from the start of Mud River. The fill will come two miles from the mine to the river. Already a large sedimentation pond has been built at the end of the valley. A rock-lined channel leads from the pond towards the river. But on a rainy day in mid-January 1998, the pond was full and unable to trap all the sediment. A light colored ribbon of mud ran from the valley fill into Mud River, further worsening the sedimentation problems of waterways in the area.

When Therman and Lorene Caudill moved to their present home Mud River in 1966, they planned to stay the rest of their lives. In the early years there was a moratorium on strip mining in Lincoln County. So they had few concerns about mines. With little notice, the moratorium expired when the federal law was passed in 1977. The community was peaceful until Hobet21 moved in a couple of years ago. The Caudills were told the mine would be directly behind them by the Spring of 1998.

Though the blasting is still more than a mile away, (more…)

by Anita Miller, OVEC member

They are beginning to rape another hill side. The cutters have come in and clear cut everything that stands….

This is very distressing……….I grew up in those hills, climbed those trees that now lay on the ground ready to be burned up. It was just a few years ago that my Dad and I went ginsenging up those hills. When I was just a kid PawPaw Caudill and I would walk up on the old strip mine road and look for chunks of coal. He was blind so I would find the coal and he could feel it and tell if it was good or not. We then would roll the chunks down the hill to be picked up later.
Every October my family gets together for a camping trip. This has been going on since I was born. For years we camped in the same spot, then the mines moved in and took over. Then we moved to Berry’s Branch, the mines have taken that area. Then, three years ago we moved up behind the home place at Mud River, the mines have now cut all the trees above the camp site and plan on putting in a sludge pond. My grandchildren love to camp, but this tradition of camping may end soon, the mines are taking all the mountains.
Strip mining is a horrible thing. When we drive in that area my granddaugher can’t even look at the destruction. At eleven years old she can understand how much we need the mountains. She asked me one day “MawMaw, don’t they know we need the trees”. I hate the fact she won’t experience the same enjoyment out of the mountains that I did.

Courtesy of upcoming documentary: Coal Fired

www.fireflypix.com