Introduction

 

 

 

There’s a sleepy town tucked deep into the valley in the heart of West Virginia, surrounded by green hills stretching to the sky and a tale that haunts it like a beautiful dream.

 

If you’ve spent any amount of time there—whether on a Woodchoppers weekend or a quick day of sightseeing—you can feel it: the air whispers with the past as much as it overflows with the delicious scent of the Elk River. And the sepia stories woven into the very mountains merge with glistening rhododendrons and ancient trees into a present that’s truly a gift: Webster Springs.

 

As for me, some of the most beautiful memories of my childhood took place near Back Fork of Elk River: at Baker’s Island for Woodchoppers and at my great-great grandmother’s house just a walk away for birthdays and regular unofficial reunions. 

 

Then, it was just fun—I could count on a treasure or two from Woodchoppers and probably one from the five and dime store, and the food was, as expected at big family gatherings, quite plenteous. But as a teenager, when Grandma’s house changed hands and we lost one family member after another, the visits came to all but a halt with one last visit just before the house sold.

 

But with that last visit appeared a passion I’d never noticed before: an unignorable vibration in my bones, my genes, my soul that a deep part of me very much belongs right there among those towering green mountains and the U-turn-esque curvy roads and that inescapable river air. 

 

And though two decades have gone since then and time has changed me more than I ever imagined it could, this one thing has remained: for definite lack of a better word, my love for Webster Springs.

 

And now I’m here to thoroughly enjoy myself in sharing every angle of it that my heart has carried around forever. I hope you’ll follow along, revel in its beauty, and celebrate its history along with me.

 

__________

Back Fork of Elk River, 2014 | by Kacie Fleming