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Stuart Revercomb

Stuart Revercomb is a marketing consultant and joyously married father of four children. He seems to remember someone once telling him he ought to be a writer. "The Unseen Here and Now" -- Thursdays.

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"Thursday's Fare"

Get Out In It

When is the last time you got "out in it?"

I mean really "Out In It."

Like so far "out in it" you were actually a little worried that a bear might be lurking just around a bend in the trail. If you're like me it's been a while. . . a very long while.

But this past week I took the family deep into the heart of West Virginia to a private mountain lodge known as the Cheat Mountain Club. The CMC is over 130 years old and sits in the middle of one million acres of National Forest. If you live on the East Coast, it's about as far out in it as you can get.

The lodge itself is a large two story building constructed of indigenous red spruce timbers, some of which are almost four feet in diameter. The lower level is composed of a dining room and bar on one side, and a "great- room" on the other that rivals those of the famed Forest Service Lodges of the American West. On the long wall of the "great-room" is a massive stone fireplace, around which sit several groupings of gloriously smooth antique maple furniture. The floor beneath is polished oak plank, and the rugs at the center of each seating area are made of cotton in the early American oval style that invite you to pull off your shoes and stay a while. There is a handsome mural of the nearby Shavers Fork River above the fireplace itself, and to the right is a picture of the naturalist, John Burroughs who has been joined by Harvey Firestone, Henry Ford and Thomas Edison for a trip they took to the lodge in 1918. You can flip open a copy of "guest register number two" and see where they signed out on August 22. (That's 84 years ago this Thursday as Luck would have it.)

In the center of the lodge there are massive steps with polished timber hand rails that lead to ten bedrooms above that can accommodate twenty-three people comfortably. Each room has the same deep honey maple furniture with the incredible glass like finish. The walls are pine and the quilts are all hand made. There is the occasional black and white picture of men and women mostly standing formally as people were want to do in that day and age. They begin to look like family if you revisit them a few times. Somehow, you want them to be.

Just out the back of the lodge, the Shavers Fork River passes by the huge green lawn that becomes woods on the left and open meadows of wildflowers and grasses on the right. 200 year old trees rise here and there. A set of twelve Adirondack chairs sit in an arc on a slate terrace just five feet above the gently sloping riverbank. There is a stone fire-pit before them. Even in summer the temperature regularly dips into the fifties and fires are built most every night. It is a good place to sit with a Bourbon or Scotch drink if you are predisposed to such things. It is a good place to sit if you are not.

When everyone else has retired for the night, and you are by yourself next to that fire beneath the brightest star-filled sky you have ever seen, and a wildcat lets out its strained call somewhere in the distance, you realize that you are alive in some way that you were not aware of before. So alive, in fact, that like the Milky Way that radiates so vibrant above, the rest of your life shines more clearly too, and your priorities have a way of realigning themselves. That tends to happen when you're way "out in it."

But on arrival it took the children an hour or two to discover the possibilities. After their initial exploration into every nook and cranny of the lodge including the attic, the large commercial kitchen and even the adjoining caretakers residence, Gussie returned with the announcement that, "they were bored."

I wasn't biting.

"Head outside and see what you can find," I said, hoping beyond hope that this wouldn't be something I was going to hear all week.

"Don't they have a TV?" she questioned exasperated.

"Thank Goodness - No, " I responded.

"I don't know why we should be thankful for that," she replied.

Somehow the comment irritated me - probably because it demonstrated the control TV has over most of us. I turned and lowered myself on one knee. I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Gussie, you can either watch life or live it. What would you rather do? You decide."

It sounded hopelessly parental, and therefore I waited for her response with an internal cringe. She surprised me.

"Gee Dad - hadn't thought about that..." She paused a moment, and then raising one finger in the air for exclamation, shouted, "I think I'd rather live it!" She bounded out the door, in search of her brothers and sister who had made their way out to the expansive green lawn. Within the hour they were all in the river with crawdad nets, fishing poles, scuba masks and snorkels. Even five year old Jane, our "powderpuff", had ventured into the river and was swimming fully submerged with her snorkel in search of the illusive "Cheat Mountain Darter."

"DAD, LOOK AT THIS FISH I CAUGHT IN MY NET!" Jane shouted as she came up with her first one. It was a tiny little minnow, but the pride on that face said world-record Marlin.

Moments later daughter Gussie produced a beautiful native trout with her fishing rod. She made sure her hands were wet before handling the fish and then deftly released it back into the river. I was amazed at both her prowess and nonchalance. She had the family fishing gene that had bypassed me. I was in heaven just watching her. Meanwhile son George could be seen kayaking upriver, searching the rocky shallows for crawdads and "perfect rocks," and 3 year old Rob romped on the expansive lawn with our dog, "Goose." The wife and I just smiled. We could tell the upcoming week was going to be a very, very good one.

And it was.

That evening I opened guest register number one and turned to the very first entry. It had been written one cold winters night in 1887 by an unidentified founder of the Club. It read :

"Our party had a royal time and enjoyed every minute of their stay - both at clubhouse and ‘14 mile camp.' Killed 8 deer - 3 turkeys - 6 pheasant and a cab - Stayed and had Sunday Dinner in Club House sitting room - We had for guests the family of Colonel Hutton and Mike Butcher. After dinner we sang "America", "Old Hundred" etc. etc... until our guests departed for home with three cheers and laughter from members of the club."

"Signed : One who was in it"

What would you like to do? You can either watch life or live it.

Make sure you take the time to get out in it.

If you're interested in more information on The Mongahela National Forest and Private Rental of the Cheat Mountain Club please click on my email link at the top of this page and I'll be happy to connect you with the right folks!