2017 Life Logs, Day 175: Family Gathering, Day Two
Date: Saturday, June 25, 2017
Weather: Beautiful Day, Sunny with High in the 80’s
Location: Creekside Resort and Spa, Greenville, WV
Fantastic day!!! Our focus for today was my father’s side of the family. His mother was a Goodwin and his father was a Martin. Both were born in Giles County, Virginia, on one side or another of Salt Pond Mountain. Mountain Lake Lodge, where a good portion of the movie Dirty Dancing was filmed, is at the top of the mountain. What the evidence shows at this point is that my grandmother, Fannie Elizabeth Catherine ‘Kate’ Goodwin, grew up in Clover Hollow on the east side of the mountain, and that my grandfather, Fred Burton Martin, grew up on the north side of the mountain. My father, Hayes Winfred Martin, was also born in this area. We all met at Creekside and started our travel eastward across the mountains.
I was in the van with Heather and family leading the caravan and we immediately encountered a black bear in the middle of the road. We came around a curve and scared him so badly that he scurried up a steep hill on the side of the road and tried to jump a fence. I was sure he was stuck at the top of the fence, but he managed to wriggle free. Whew! I sure am glad he didn’t get caught up in the fence. After that adventure, we continued on and next encountered an unbelievably narrow, twisty country road going up over Peters Mountain. That was an adventure all in its own right. Once across the mountain, we followed Potts Creek to a dirt road that leads to a small cemetery where my grandmother and the first two children of my mother and father are buried.
It is now called Arthur’s Cemetery and my grandmother and my two brothers are the only Martins buried there. It is possible that the cemetery is on land that was once owned by grandfather and that the Arthur’s were buried there in later years once the land was sold. I should have checked the dates on the tombstones, but didn’t think of that until now.
The first time I went to that cemetery was when I was a little girl. I was with my mother and we got there by walking through the woods from my grandfather’s house. The area around the gravestones was all grown over and I would never have found them if my mother hadn’t been with me. I don’t remember that there were other graves nearby. I went back sometime in the 1970’s or early 80’s with one of my nieces, and again, I don’t remember all the other graves. My grandmother was buried there in 1910 and my brothers were buried there in 1924 and 1928. So next time, I’ll check the dates on the other gravestones. But while we were there, in typical Martin fashion, we had another adventure. We certainly don’t want too many hours to go by without some excitement. The dirt road that leads to the now fenced and well-kept graveyard turns to grass and gets very narrow close to the cemetery. And by the way, there is a sign that says you’ll be shot if you trespass, but I convinced everyone that trespassing to get to a family cemetery is okay—just no promises that you won’t get shot.
The ‘road’ has a little dip in it at one point. The SUV owned by one of my nephews needed to back up in the low spot and in doing so one rear wheel went over the edge of the path. There was no way to push it out as it was sitting on the edge quite precariously, so I went with one of my nieces to find help. We drove back to the paved road and headed toward the home once owned by my grandfather. We saw someone sitting outside and we pulled into the driveway. It was gated, but they let us in, and lucky, lucky for us, the couple owned a tractor and have had to pull others out of that spot before. Whew! It took a bit, but the gentleman was successful in pulling out the SUV.
He wouldn’t take any money for helping, so we thanked him, all gathered in the cemetery for the required family photo,
and then continued on. We had sent the niece that took me to find help with my sister and brother-in-law on to the nearby farmhouse where my father grew up. We were very late in our timing and I had arranged to meet our new-found cousin there at 11 am. But it was now after noon. I had no way to call him as there was absolutely no cell service. He had driven four hours from Richmond, Virginia, just to meet us and it would have been terrible if our paths had not crossed. But they did find him there, so all was well. The farmhouse sits on 170 acres and is now owned by a retired couple from New Jersey. I had called them to warn that we would be coming, but they were going to out of town. Otherwise, they might have felt like they were being invaded! But back to the farmhouse and the barn where my parents fell in love.
It was the hub of the saw mill business owned by my grandfather. There was a company store on one end of the house and rooms that could be rented on the second floor. At one time, a railroad ran right in front of the house where the road is now. The railroad is how the timber and iron-ore mined near-by Paint Bank got out of the mountains. My grandfather once owned hundreds of acres adjoining the current property, but when the timber had been taken off it, the land was sold. The purpose of visiting the property was just so the younger members of the family who have never been there will now have a visual memory of part of their family history. This property is in an area that is referred to as Laurel Branch which is in Monroe Country, West Virginia. But as you drive the six miles from my Grandpa Martin’s place following Potts Creek to the tiny little town of Paint Bank, you find yourself in Virginia. The only place I could find for us to have lunch was in Paint Bank, so we all headed there. Stopping for lunch gave me and my sister Patsy
a chance to talk Aaron, the long, lost cousin. Our relationship is a very long and complicated story, but basically he is the great grandson of my father’s half-brother. Aaron’s great grandmother ‘Kate’ Goodwin Martin, is my paternal grandmother. And he found me by searching online for his great grandmother’s full name. I mentioned it in one of my logs in 2015, and through the magic of the internet, we met.
After lunch, we all headed to Mountain Lake Lodge on the top of Salt Pond Mountain, still in Giles County in Virginia. The purpose of this trip was to explore the area where my father and his mother and father were born. Aaron and I went in his truck and headed over the mountain on an unknown road to try and find Clover Hollow where we know ‘Kate’ was born. We are not sure where Aaron’s great grandfather, my Uncle Emmett, was born, but we know that my father’s birth certificate says he was born in Interior, Giles County, Virginia. There is no such place. I have searched and searched to no avail. But low and behold, because we sent the rest of the gang on a safer road to Mountain Lake, along the way, Heather spotted a sign. It was at a tourist attraction, a train stop along the railroad that no longer exists, that says, “Interior.” Success! Something I have searched for on the internet and in court houses for years does exist. It was an area, not an established community, and in the right spot. I find it now, but only when I search for train stops. Aaron and I did find Clover Hollow, but it will take a lot more research to find the exact spot where ‘Kate’ was born. But I know one thing. Neither Aaron nor I will ever drive there the way we did today. We were basically on a fire road that went straight up and down a mountain that was in our path. And there were no road signs and lots of turns that just were not on the Google map I had printed out. Thankfully we were in a truck. I had originally planned for everyone to take this road and that would have been a disaster. Cars could not have made it. But we did all make it to Mountain Lake at about the same time. I said farewell to Aaron
who was going on to meet another family member in search of a place called Goodwin’s Ferry. And he found it! Even though it much later in the afternoon than we had planned, the rest of us went for a hike to the top of the mountain where we had been promised there was a beautiful view of the New River Valley. And there was. It was beautiful.
We had left behind my sister Patsy with nephew Tommy and his wife. They decided to go into the Mountain Lake Lodge to wait for us and the people inside invited Patsy to have special “dirty dancing” lessons in Mary’s Barn. It was “Dirty Dancing” weekend and the dance lessons are a feature of the weekend. She declined, but went in to watch the dancing and had a wonderful time.
We drove home along the New River and drove back into Monroe County, West Virginia, from the west side of the county making a complete circle. On the drive back to Creekside, Heather, Justin, and I stopped in Wikel to say hello to Betty Mom. Betty Comer provided child care to our children when we lived in Wikel (1979 to 1984). We moved to West Virginia in November and the following fall, Heather was in kindergarten which met three days a week one semester and two days the other. She was at Betty Mom’s on the non-school days that year. Justin was with Betty Mom full-time for two years and both Heather and Justin will always have a special place in their hearts for this wonderful woman. Thank you, Betty.
And thanks to our wonderful caterer, dinner was waiting for us. After dinner the little ones chased fireflies outside and then there was piano playing, chess games, and just general enjoyment of family. I planned this day to honor my father, and I could never have imagined that it would turn out so perfectly. Hayes Winfred Martin, you started this, and every living member of the Martin clan salutes you.
