What would your answer be if someone asked, where is the coldest, most miserable place on earth? Would it be Antarctica? Siberia? Alaska? If you would ask me that same question I would answer without a doubt, Mt. Storm, WVA! Mt. Storm is well named; I spent several years there one winter. Some of the most miserable days of my life.
I was introduced to that part of the Alleghenies “back in the day” when I worked construction. The project was building two large metal buildings at the coal fired power plant near Mt. Storm. All I did was grunt work. Wheelbarrowing and shoveling gravel and concrete; and laying out and tying steel for the concrete floor. Anything that required muscle and not much thinking.
The weather was bitter cold, with strong winds that always blew over the nearby partially frozen lake. It only snows sideways there! Even in early fall and late spring we would leave Broadway in clear comfortable weather conditions only to find blowing snow and freezing temperatures on the mountain. A different world all together.
As I mentioned, this was a coal fired power plant. Everything was covered in coal dust, from the huge twin smokestacks to the mud and snow on the ground. And that included all the people that worked there. I cannot think of a bleaker scene than driving up to the entry gate in front of the two large stacks on a cold, dark, cloudy morning, with everything covered in coal dust, including the workers in the middle of a shift change. The only thing bright was the whites of their eyes.
And then there is the mud. Heavy, sticky mud. I don’t know which was worse, the bitter cold conditions when the ground was frozen or the mud when it wasn’t. The stuff would stick to your boots until the heavy weight forced you to clean them off. Which was often. It literally got so heavy you could not move your feet. You worked in the mud getting ready for the gravel, then after the gravel was in place, every time you got off the gravel to get something you had to clean off your boots again. The gravel would stick to the mud making it even worse. Unfortunately, we had to work in the mud and gravel until a section of the concrete was poured, and then it was back into the mud to prepare the next section.
The drive to the work site wasn’t exactly unicorns and rainbows either. I think it was about a two and a half hour drive each way. This was a long time before Corridor H was constructed. Level ground back to Baker, and then Rt. 55 over several mountains, with their snakelike, winding roads to Moorefield. Level ground on Rt. 220 to Petersburg and then more mountains through Maysville and on to the final grade to Mt. Storm. The trip was even more inviting since there were six husky men crammed into a crew cab pickup truck. For the most part we switched off who rode shotgun or sat in the middle. At least the heater worked and you got paid travel time (not overtime) one way.
When I first started working at Mt. Storm, I was woefully unprepared for the conditions. Cotton long johns just didn’t cut it. A pair of coveralls and decent gloves helped a bit but only made life bearable. You couldn’t half work bundled up with the coveralls and gloves on, but you couldn’t survive without them. The only short-lived bright spots of the day were breaktimes and the card games at lunch.
As you can likely tell, getting up at 4:00am for a 2-½ hour cramped ride, freezing in the coal dust and mud, and arriving back home at 7:00pm, only to do it again the next day, for weeks on end, was not the high point of my working career. Sitting here, in retirement, by my warm woodstove, makes me glad those days are over.
R.D. Cullers
Graduate of Bergton Elementary (Class of ’65)
