South Florida Sun-Sentinel (Sunday)
Meet the new national park
New River Gorge in West Virginia a destination for adventure sports
As Americans continue to weather the pandemic, the $2.3 trillion coronavirus relief and spending bill passed by the federal government in December brought an unexpected and lasting gift: a new national park.
The 5,593-page spending package included a raft of provisions authorizing little-known projects — the construction of the Teddy Roosevelt Presidential Library in North Dakota, for one — and giving lawmakers a chance to advance a variety of long-delayed initiatives. Among them was the elevation of the New River Gorge, in southern West Virginia, to the status of Yellowstone, Yosemite and the country’s other most renowned outdoor spaces. The designation of the area — roughly 72,000 acres of land flanking 53 miles of the gorge — as a national park and preserve creates the 63rd national park in the United States and completes a multigenerational effort, started in the mid-20th century, to transform a tired industrial area into a national landmark.
The gorge and its surroundings have been prized for decades as one of southern West Virginia’s more spectacular natural places.
In 1963, the West Virginia House of Delegates passed a resolution seeking to designate the New River Gorge as a “national playground,” preparing to send the proposal to President John F. Kennedy, whose primary campaign was lifted substantially through support from West Virginia voters. But momentum to create a national recreation area stalled after Kennedy’s assassination later that year.
Although the gorge remained a curiosity among rafters and outdoor enthusiasts, the area only received federal protection from the Interior Department in 1978, when it was designated a national river.
Now, the outdoor offerings in the gorge have come to define the area as a premier destination for adventure sports in the East.
The New River plunges 750 feet over 66 miles, resulting in long stretches of violent rapids that can reach a class five level, generally considered the most difficult that can be navigated by white-water boaters. (Licensed outfitters operate in several towns near the river, providing rentals and tours for rafting and kayaking.)
The canyon walls, which soar as high as 1,600 feet, offer miles of cliffs that rank among the best in the East Coast for rock climbing. Sheer faces in the gorge made of robust Nuttall sandstone provide both traditional and sport-climbing routes across the difficulty spectrum.
Bike routes are scattered throughout the park on both sides of the river, with options for both technical mountain biking and more casual pedaling along former railroad beds.
According to the National Park Service, geologists believe the New River — its name a misnomer used by early American explorers who often assigned the same name to any river they came upon for the first time — was a segment of the preglacial Teays River. This larger river, which traversed much of the current Ohio River watershed, was later diverted and broken up by glaciers. The age of the Teays is uncertain, but fossil evidence suggests it could be as much as 320 million years old, leaving its remnant, the New River, as quite possibly the second-oldest river in the world.
Beyond the millions of years of geological history on display, the gorge is also filled with signs of the region’s heritage as a major coal production hub.
Miners once capitalized on the easy access to rich deposits of high-quality bituminous coal in the canyon, where the river had already shorn through hundreds of feet of rock. Especially after the Chesapeake and Ohio Railway linked the New River coal fields to markets in 1873, dozens of boom towns popped up along the river’s edge.
The park contains the remnants of communities such as Nuttallburg and Kaymoor, which still stand near the riverbank and are accessible from points higher up. Seams of exposed coal are visible along some trails leading into the gorge and its towns, where abandoned mine portals remain.
Despite the environmental degradation and pollution that industry unleashed, some unique
ecological features make the gorge well-suited to a diverse combination of wildlife, which has slowly reappeared as time has passed.
The river lies at the center of a migration corridor where plants and animals that typically range farther north or south come together, including several federally endangered and threatened species, such as the Virginia big-eared bat and the Allegheny wood rat.
According to Lizzie Watts, the park’s superintendent, the river itself is also notably warmer than surrounding areas, making it a popular warm-water fishing destination with more than a dozen public access points. The river is one of the premier spots for smallmouth bass fishing on the East Coast, and muskellunge and walleye are common in the park today.
“The next generation will have the opportunity to see what, in the last 150 years, it looks like when an area goes from being logged and mined to left alone,” Watts said. “The ecosystem has come back to full trees and mature forests.”
The New River Gorge does not match the scale of many national parks in the western United States, where Death Valley, the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone sprawl over more than 1 million acres each.
Nevertheless, officials expect the new designation to bring a substantial influx of travelers, boosted in part by a dedicated set of enthusiasts who strive to visit every national park.
In typical years, around
1.3 million travelers visit the gorge, according to the Park Service’s tourism data.
When legislation was first introduced to designate the area as a national park, pushback came from some locals. Hunters have long enjoyed access to secluded sections of woods around the gorge, and with hunting prohibited in federal parks, some protested the potential loss of hunting grounds.
In a compromise, more than 65,000 acres of the total area were designated as a nature preserve where hunting can continue as before, and only roughly
7,000 acres directly within the canyon are officially off limits as national parkland. A provision was included to empower the park to acquire more than
3,000 acres of private land around its current boundaries as well, to expand the size of the preserve and add public hunting grounds.
As we’ve had to postpone our travels because of the pandemic, I believe a weekly dose of travel dreaming can be good medicine. Here’s one of my favorite European memories from Milan — a reminder of the fun that awaits us at the other end of this crisis.
They say that for every church in Rome, there’s a bank in Milan. Indeed, the economic success of postwar Italy can be attributed, at least in part, to this second city of bankers, publicists and pasta power-lunchers. While overshadowed by Venice, Florence and Rome in the minds of travelers, Milan still has plenty to offer anyone who visits.
The importance of Milan is nothing new. Ancient Romans called this place Mediolanum, or “the central place.” By the fourth century A.D., it was the capital of the western half of the Roman Empire. After struggling through the early Middle Ages, Milan rose to prominence under the powerful Visconti and Sforza families. By the time the Renaissance hit, Leonardo had moved here and the city was called “the New Athens.”
Milan’s cathedral, the city’s centerpiece, is the third-largest church in Europe. It’s massive: 480 feet long and 280 feet wide, forested with 52 sequoiasized pillars and populated by 2,000 statues. The place can seat 10,000 worshippers. Climbing the tight spiral stairs designed for the laborers who built the church, I emerge onto the rooftop in a forest of stony spires. Crowds pack the rooftop for great views of the
city, the square and, on clear days, the Italian Alps. But it’s the architectural details of the church that grab my attention. Marveling at countless ornaments carved more than five centuries ago in marble — each flower, each gargoyle, each saint’s face different — I realize the public was never intended to see this art. An expensive labor of love, it was meant for God’s eyes only.
The cathedral sits on Piazza del Duomo, Milan’s main square. It’s a classic European scene. Professionals scurry, fashionista kids loiter and young thieves peruse.
The grand glass-domed arcade on the square marks the late 19th-century mall, Galleria Vittorio Emanuele. Built around 1870, during the heady days of
Italian unification, it was the first building in town with electric lighting. Its art is joyful propaganda, celebrating the establishment of Italy as an independent country. Its stylish boutiques, restaurants and cafes reflect Milan’s status as Italy’s fashion capital.
I make the scene under those glassy domes, slowly sipping a glass of the traditional Italian liqueur, Campari, first served in the late 1800s at a bar in this very gallery. Some of Europe’s hottest people-watching turns my pricey drink into a good value. While enjoying the parade, I notice some fun-loving commotion around the bull in the floor’s zodiac mosaic. For good luck, locals step on the testicles of Taurus. Two
girls tell me that it’s even better if you twirl.
It’s evening, and I see people in formal wear twirling on that poor bull. They’re on their way to what is quite possibly the world’s most prestigious opera house: La Scala. Like other great opera houses in Europe, La Scala makes sure that impoverished music lovers can get standing-room tickets or nosebleed seats that go on sale the day of the performance. And the La Scala Museum has an extensive collection of items that are practically objects of worship for opera devotees: original scores, busts, portraits and death masks of great composers and musicians. Imagine: Verdi’s top hat, Rossini’s eyeglasses, Toscanini’s baton ... even
Fettucini’s pesto.
The next morning is the highlight of many Milan visits: Leonardo’s ill-fated “The Last Supper,” painted right onto the refectory wall of the Church of Santa Maria delle Grazie. Leonardo was hired to decorate the monks’ dining room, and this was an appropriate scene.
Suffering from Leonardo’s experimental use of oil, the masterpiece began deteriorating within six years of its completion. The church was bombed in World War II, but — miraculously, it seems — the wall holding “The Last Supper” remained standing.
Today, to preserve it as much as possible, the humidity in the room is carefully regulated — only 30 people are allowed in every 15 minutes. When it’s my turn to enter, I look right, and there it is. In the big, whitewashed room, the colors are faded, but the composition is dreamy. Leonardo captures the psychological drama as the Lord says, “One of you will betray me,” and the apostles huddle in stressed-out groups of three, wondering, “Lord, is it I?”
When my 15 minutes of viewing are up, I emerge into the vibrant, modern city with renewed appreciation for Milan.