When I last published our story, I was gettinhg ready to go to bed. I did, and got a good nights sleep. I am staying in a motel, and was writing last night's diary when the Boone County Sheriff's Deputies evicted those encamped at the camp ground. For the most part the influential people of Boone County don't support this cause. As a matter of fact, there is great animosity towards those of us participating. And last night was just another example of that.
There is an axiom, "No battle plan survives the first contact with the enemy." The organizers of this march have do a great job preparing the field, but Big Coal wields almost god like control here. The campground for last night is a good example. The State Police and the organizers had agreed that the John Slack Park, where there was no closing time and could hold us would be a good place for the camp.
When we got there, a new sign had appeared at the road into the Park. It read "Park closed at 10:00 pm." We set up, because the State Troopers told us they felt that was still the best spot for us. However, the Boone County's Sheriff's Office had a different opinion. At 10:00, the "Get out of Dodge" edict was given. This was difficult order to follow, but the organizers did a great job of moving all the equipment and people back to our start point before the Deputies lost patience with the withdrawal And there I found them this morning, after I found the camp I left them in last night abandoned.
Today's plan was to take the marchers back to the march route, and pick up there to marched on to the next camp. However, as we were on route, we were told that all the campgrounds we had arranged for tonight's stop had been pulled out from under the group. So the plan became to march on to the campground and then shuttle back. Mother Nature vetoed that plan with dangerous wind and hail. We had to stop early and shuttle back again.
Then we came to a major stoppage on the road, a telephone pole and power lines down across the road. We were told that the lines should be cleared in a couple of hours. A couple of hours later, the rumor among all those stopped was that it would be two more. Those in the shuttle crew decided to turn around and head back the way we came. We were a mile from the edge of Marmet, but the power crew would no let anyone even walk past the downed line.
However, none of them were also towing a trailer. And turning a trailer and Jeep around was out of the question. I found my West Virginia Atlas and Gazetteer and looked for other options. Ahead of us, before the power line down across the street was a back road to a one lane dirt road that lead into Kanawa State Park and through to Rt 61. I went for a walk to judge the situation. That's when I found out that the alternate route had a tree down across it.
So here I am, with a Jeep Liberty stuffed like a clown car with seven of us, and a load in the back forcing five of those to squeeze into the back seat. With a port a potty trailer loaded down with banners and signs advertsing our alligience to killing the practise of mountain top removal. Me, the 52 yo former West Virginian, and 6 college kids, in the middle of about 15 or more coal trucks and many miners on their way to work. Que the deliverance music, at least to those with me.
Instead of Deliverance's Dueling Banjos, I pulled out the Allman Brothers, cranked up the volume, and started introducing myself and my passengers as those "Dirty Fucking Hippies" that they heard were coming to protest MTR. We ended up with a new understanding of the miners and truckers, and they also were enlightened. That four or five hours we sat and waited went from a horror for my passengers to understanding and compassion for the locals by those same passengers. And the miners and drivers better understood us and our cause.
And I was able to get many to agree we could be right, but they felt trapped by circumstance. The "youngsters" with me did a great job of PR too. And once I told a number of the locals we were stuck there with that now would be a great time to fire up a doobie, but I did not bring any for fear of polluting the face of the cause with something to dilute the message they started boasting of West Virginia's Finest Kind Bud and joking about "you fucking tree huggers and hippies." The youngsters were amazed with the number of hillbillies that smoke, smoked, grow, or grew. I do not consider hillbilly to be a derogatory term, I refer to myself as a hillbilly regularly.
Eventually, the tree across the dirt road was cleared by some good ole boy with a chainsaw in the back of his truck. When we saw traffic coming out of the woods on the road leading to the dirt road leading into the Park, we offered all the truckers and miners a last chance to use the porta-potties before I left with them. They thanked us, and off we went into the woods to the dirt road. My passengers were in awe of the lush forest and mountains around them. And even more in awe of their new found ability to relate to those that oppose them.
I was impressed with the way they handled themselves, and made a point of congratulating them on their great PR actions. And I let them know that a very important lesson was just taught to them. That lesson is that if you can't end up having a good time even when broken down in the middle of nowhere, then you just don't know how to enjoy life and need to rethink your values. I was honored to guide them to that realization and honored to get them talking to those that they had feared, but made human instead.
Tomorrow comes, and I need to get to bed. Thank you for reading, and please, if you can, go here and here this effort out with a couple of dollars to cover some of the costs.