Raise your hand if you’ve heard of the Hatfields and McCoys.  That’s about what I figured.  Yes, I’m sure most of you are familiar with the famous mountain feud of the late 19^th century.  A few weeks ago my son Carl and I had the chance to travel along a few of the roads leading through feud territory.  I was particularly intrigued by a spot on the DeLorme Atlas marked “Hatfield Cemetery” and I could sense a road trip was in the making.  (A disclaimer:  Carl and I made this journey in the car.  The weather was nice, so we traveled most of the way with the top down.  That has to count for something, eh?)

 

When you travel through the hills where the key events of the feud took place, you’ll find an area with much the same feel as it had one hundred fifty years ago.  From any high vantage point, the scattered settlements below look like flotsam on a storm-tossed sea.  Sure, there are a few modern highways like US 119 that will whisk you across the region if you choose, but the minute you hop off the main route and begin treading the back roads of Pike County, Kentucky and Mingo County, West Virginia, the sky is swallowed by the trees and the shoulders of the road close in.  You can interpret this feeling one of two ways: a closeness that feels like the surrounding hills are embracing you or a threat -- as if the trees are leaning in to snatch you off your bike.  I chose to go with the happy feeling.

 

The facts of the feud are well documented in many books that attempt to explain the social and economic undercurrents that drove the conflict.  I’ll leave those explanations to the experts.  Besides, I’m not sure how sophisticated an analysis you need when you mix fiercely independent mountaineers, alcohol, firearms, bad attitudes and a stolen pig.  Douse a forest floor with kerosene.  Light a match.  See what happens.

 

Lurid newspaper accounts of a bloody war of attrition between isolated mountain families stirred the passions of a citizenry already consumed with a national civil struggle.  Some thought war between Kentucky and West Virginia would surely break out.  In reality, the feud ran off and on for thirty years, with key events occurring years apart. 

 

The feud was set in motion by the Hatfield side in the early 1860’s, when Anderson “Devil Anse” Hatfield on the north side of Tug Creek organized the first actions of thievery against the McCoy family on the southern banks.  Occasional clashes occurred over the next decade, but the feud gained momentum with the theft of a McCoy pig by a Hatfield in 1878.  Hatfield was acquitted of the crime by testimony of a neighbor, Bill Stanton.  Two years later in 1880, Stanton took a ration of lead in the gut for his troubles and died, allegedly at the hands of a McCoy, who also was acquitted.

 

Oh, let’s mix in a love story, too.  About that same time, Roseanna McCoy and Johnse Hatfield met and fell in love.  She moved in with him only to return to the McCoy compound the next year in 1881.  McCoys subsequently kidnapped Johnse Hatfield.  Roseanna then made a famous ride to save the life of her lover.  For her efforts, she contracted measles and miscarried her baby.  As for the grateful Johnse, he married another McCoy in May of the same year.  Roseanna died a few years later at just thirty years of age.

 

There’s more to the story, those are just the opening highlights.  Here’s a link with a brief timeline of the full scope of events.  It’s a good overview that just sticks to the facts:

 

http://www.matewan.com/History/timeline.htm

 

Two towns played a recurring role in the feud, Pikeville, Kentucky and Matewan, West Virginia.  Pikeville is better known today as the hometown of Dwight Yoakam and Patty Loveless.  I like this gallery of pictures that capture a portion of the area’s expansive beauty.

 

http://gallery.kyhometown.com/pikeville

 

Carl and I began our journey to the Hatfield Cemetery by passing through the Pikeville Cut Through.  In the Western Hemisphere, it’s a project bested only by the Panama Canal for its size and scale.  You’ve probably never heard of it..  Before the cut through was created, Pikeville was plagued by frequent floods of the Big Sandy river that passed through the town.  This is a phenomenon many other Appalachian towns are familiar with.  The project, just completed in 1987, re-routed the river away from town and included new alignments for US 119 and US 23, the “Country Music Highway.”  We followed US 119 for a while, satisfied with the long, open vistas of the improved road.  This road would be a fun ride on a Sunday morning as it was when we traveled it.  I can imagine it carries much more traffic during the week.

 

Shortly on arriving in WV, we made a right onto US 52 in Williamson and followed the rail yards out of town toward Matewan.  US 52 is a curvy roller coaster ride and WV 49 over the hill and into Matewan is a treat, especially the last few turns into town.  As we cruised through the small downtown area, it became immediately apparent that one of the key economic drivers of this area is tourism, specifically, folks trucking in their dirt bikes and ATVs to master the extensive Hatfield-McCoy Trail System.   As I turned off the engine, we could hear the streets of Matewan buzzing with ATVs.  Here’s a link that describes the trail system.

 

http://www.trailsheaven.com/ 

 

I thought I’d have to stop somewhere to find a towel for Carl as he drooled at the prospect of renting a dirt bike in this off-roader’s paradise.  I countered this desire with an observation that the preferred method of travel on the trails seemed to be by ATV, no dirt bike rentals were to be found.  After a brief consideration of 1.25 seconds, Carl decided an ATV offered just as much ground-pounding, neck-snapping pleasure as a dirt bike and he would be happy to make the sacrifice.  However, even that was not on our itinerary for this day.  Dad did note the names of a few rental establishments for future research.  Methinks an off-road edition of Appalachian Journeys is in the offing.

 

We decided to follow WV 49 back out to US 52, then turned north on WV 44 to find the Hatfield Cemetery.  Just a few miles up the road near Sarah Ann, a roadside historical sign marks the entrance to the cemetery.  We parked on the wide shoulder and walked across the bridge, following a dirt road that rose abruptly, scaling the side of a small hill.  A dilapidated sign posted at the cemetery entrance invited us to meet today’s Hatfield descendants and visit the family museum, a quarter mile down the road, but today our time and interest were limited to finding the cemetery.

 

After a short hike, we found a few dozen marked gravesites of Hatfield kith and kin.  An ornate Italian marble monument raised to honor the Hatfield family patriarch, Anderson “Devil Anse” Hatfield, towers over his final resting place, keeping watch over the cemetery’s other residents.  No doubt the bright sunlight filtering through colorful autumn leaves softened his image somewhat, but I still got the clear feeling that you would never have wanted to find yourself on the short end of Anderson Hatfield’s temper.  I used a zoom lens to snap a few pics.  No need to get too close, you know.  Standing there, in the shadow of this commanding figure, I got the notion it was Hatfield’s presence we felt closing in on us earlier, not the trees.

 

We used the trip home to continue scouting roads for new stories and journeys.  After passing through Logan, we rejoined US 119 for a brief spell, then turned east onto WV 3 near Danville.  This section of road is just as pleasant and more challenging than that portion I included in routes out of Summersville, WV.  I would like to have followed Route 3 all the way across the state, but time was becoming a factor.  At Racine, we made the left on WV 94 to arrive at Marmet, WV, just east of Charleston.

 

At our lunch break I plotted routes on the GPS and compared its suggestions with the map.  Something didn’t add up.  According to “Barb” (the voice navigator of our GPS sounds like a Barb to us), the fastest route home was to hop on I-79 all the way to I-68 and come back though Maryland.  I’ve returned home to Virginia from West Virginia a dozen ways but never through Maryland.  However, according to Barb, every alternate route I plotted would be at least thirty minutes longer than her plan.  What the hell, I decided.  I’d driven enough curves for the past day and a half.  I was ready for something less of a challenge.  I’d never been up I-79 and thought it would be good to try out.  We didn’t get there the direct way, of course.  First, we followed US 60 east, then at Gauley Bridge, we turned north on WV 16, following the Gauley River for a short period, later tracing the Elk River.  This is another enticing stretch of road worth seeking out.

 

Out on I-79, we found ourselves in open country.  As with any other interstate, the driving wasn’t all that engaging, but the rippling Alleghenies were stunning in bright oranges and yellows.  By now you could not only see the difference in terrain, you could feel it, too.  Along this highway with long views of unending ridges, we knew nothing could reach out and grab us.  Not even a Hatfield.

 

 

An Epilogue, Of Sorts

 

Most folks have filed away their memory of the feud as an entertaining account of an untamed, wild America. Few realize the portrayal of the skirmishes between these mountain families was an early example of the mass media’s power to create enduring stereotypes.  Whenever we think of “hillbillies” today, we often draw on the images of two rough and tumble clans from the heart of the Appalachians; the Hatfields and McCoys.

 

There is an interesting parallel to be found here for motorcyclists. Fast forward nearly one hundred years later and you’ll find another example of media hysteria that gave birth to a cultural legacy we riders are intimately familiar with today.  Remember Hollister, California?

 

http://www.hollisterrally.com/

 

 

November 2005

Greetings From Appalachian Highways,

 

I hope you’re enjoying this Thanksgiving holiday.  Hard to believe that just a few weeks ago I was out riding with Dan Bard, co-author of Great Roads, Great Rides (www.greatroadsgreatrides.com) a companion to Motorcycle Journeys.  And now it’s snowing…  Ah well,  I guess that’s the signal to start laying plans for next year.  I’ll definitely get out for a few miles to keep the battery charged, and I finally got the right fitting electric jacket, so that should make it easier to ride in chilly weather.

 

This month’s feature is about a journey Carl and I made on our way back from Kentucky at the end of October.  This piece got a bit longer than I expected, but hope you enjoy it nonetheless.  If you’ve never been to this area of the country, I advise you to put it on your riding agenda for 2006.  Despite what you hear and read about this area, it is still largely beautiful, sparsely settled, and laced with roads that are as untamed as the countryside.

 

Many Happy Journeys!

Foliage was dazzling throughout eastern KY and WV despite predictions of less-than-brilliant colors.  Both pics are from the Red River Gorge area of eastern KY.

Carl and I found the entrance to the Hatfield cemetery along WV 44 near Sarah Ann.  The cemetery is a short walk up the hill.

Capt. Anderson “Devil Anse” Hatfield keeps watch over the hillside.  You get the idea this is one fella you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark hollow.

I know you can’t really follow our route on this map, this is just a rough overview of the route we took.  I don’t think you can take a much longer way across WV than we did.  Here’s a summary of the roads included in the route:

 

US 119 from  Pikesville, KY

Right on US 52

Right on US 49 to Matewan

Return to US 52 and turn right

Left on WV 44 to Sarah Ann

Continue on WV 44 to Logan

Rejoin US 119

Right on WV 3 at Danville

Left on WV 94 at Racine

WV 94 to WV 61

WV 61 to US 60 East

US 60 to WV 16

WV 16 to I-79

I-79 to I-68

 

West Virginia — The Long Way Thru

— If you enjoy this edition of Appalachian Highways, forward it to a friend! —

 

Running With the Devil

100% USA made.  Content may contain peanuts.  We certify that no children or animals were harmed in the making of this newsletter.  Well, there was that one squirrel that ran in front of us.  But other than that…

 

Unless noted, all text and images on this page are Copyright 2005 by Dale Coyner.

Source:  DeLorme Street Atlas 2006

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