April 10-12
No shortage of colorful characters and good beer on this run.
I’ve developed a fondness, for instance, for an IPA named Devil Anse.
It happened this way.
I walked from the Clarion Morgan to the Apothecary Ale House & Cafe. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast around 8 in the morning and this was nearly 7 p.m.
The cafe part of the business must be an afterthought, because all the menu offered were a few sandwiches, and the bartender told me the place had run out of most of them.
So after an OK pale ale called Ready Steady Go made by a West Virginia brewer called Short Story, I headed to High Street, past the Don Knotts statue and went back to Gibbie’s. I had stopped there on my last visit to Morgantown a couple of years ago.
Devil Anse was on tap, and I asked the bartender about the name. I couldn’t make sense of it. It’s a person, she said, and wrote it down for me: Devil Anse Hatfield.
Surprise, surprise. I had actually seen that name before, years ago. I had heard it in movies, too. It’s the nickname of William Anderson Hatfield, who led his family in the blood feud against the McCoys.
Why, it’s one of the most famous families in America. They fought a war for almost 40 years.
The IPA is made by a West Virginia brewery called Greenbrier Valley Brewing.
I’m writing this in Kentucky and am keeping my eyes open for a local McCoy ale. There are a couple of brews called Real McCoy, but they’re not from Kentucky and not related to the feud, as far as I can tell.
I had a lot of other ales, too, at Gibbie’s. Among the best were Stumptown Ales’ Lefty Lucy amber, very malty, but even so not too sweet, close but not quite an English bitter; and Greenbrier’s black IPA, which tastes like a heavily hopped stout with a burnt-chocolate flavor at the end that was a lot of fun.
Devil Anse wins, though. It’s fragrant, bitter, and sharp.
I left Morgantown in the morning to cross West Virginia to Huntington. I got another big surprise about 60 or 70 miles on my way. There was a road sign telling me to take the next exit if I wanted to go to the Stonewall Jackson Lake State Park.
I suppressed my excitement and followed directions. Before you get to the park, though, you pass through the Stonewall Jackson Wildlife Management Area. There’s a Stonewall Jackson Dam, too.
I couldn’t believe it. West Virginia was created because it didn’t want to side with Stonewall Jackson and his associates. What does Jack T call it? West By God Virginia. This isn’t Rebel Virginia.
Turns out, Gen. Jackson was born in a town called Clarksburg, in the present state of West Virginia, which didn’t exist when he was born. Charleston, the capital, has a Middle School named for him too.
The park contains an entire golf course, a marina, campground, resort, conference center, and who knows what all.
I was checked into the Pullman Plaza Hotel in Huntington by 3 in the afternoon. I had gotten out of bed too late to have breakfast and hadn’t had anything to eat all day.
The hotel is right next to a mall called Pullman Square. It looks like a repurposed transportation terminal. It’s a few hundred yards from the Ohio River. Maybe it was originally a boat landing and a rail station.
I wound up at a place called Black Sheep. I had a huge burrito with a fiery sauce and a few beers for breakfast. The brews were all from an outfit called Bad Shepherd.
One was called Drowning the Dearg. “Dearg” means “red” in Irish, and this was a fine Irish-style red ale. The Loud was an IPA. Butcher’s Knob was a wild ale, slightly sour, so I had it for dessert.
Later, in the evening, I walked to the Huntington Ale House. Since I wasn’t driving, I had a couple of ales. Mountain State Brewing’s Almost Heaven amber, like the Bob Denver song, was a little sweet, but OK.
The bar had another Greenbrier Valley Brewing number on tap, Wild Trail American pale ale. As the name suggested, it had a touch of sour, which went well with the bitter of the hops.
Next day, the 12th, I took off for Kentucky. I was headed for a place that has been a goal since childhood: to visit the site of Boonesborough.
But on the way, I couldn’t pass up the Museum of Kentucky Folk Art at the Morehead University Campus.
It’s a small gallery showing art by untrained sculptors, painters, and furniture makers. Lots of fanciful animals in wild colors, and many realistic ones too.
Favorite subjects seemed to be genre pieces—carvings, paintings, collages, etc.—depicting Adam and Eve with the serpent, visions of heaven and hell (more often hell), and Noah’s ark.
The collection of canes is spectacular, bright, shining, with lots of snakes.
There’s more, and I’ll send that later. I’m running out of steam and I’m enjoying a buzz.
Everybody be well. Love to all.
Harry
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