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December 27, 2000

The Edge of Appalachia

Part One

Serpent Mound
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Ohio is better known for its electoral votes than its natural resources. An ill-defined, amorphous shape clinging to the lower shores of Lake Erie, Ohio evokes vacant cities and industrial might of a bygone era. Ohio is as progressive as rust.

In truth, this unflattering portrait of Ohio is as accurate as the Texas depicted in the television series "Dallas." A demure state, Ohio is shy about revealing her beauty. Ohio is a state that must be explored...scrutinized...uncovered...revealed.

In late December, at the invitation of Adams County, PACT, Inc. and The Nature Conservancy, Fermata visited the southeastern corner of Ohio in a region known as the "Little Smokies" or "The Edge of Appalachia." The county seat — West Union — is about an hour’s drive east of Cincinnati. The southern boundary of the county is the Ohio River, and the eastern edge marks the beginning (or end) of the Appalachian range.

Diverting from Adams County for a moment, we are interested in how the United States is almost completely oriented from east to west. The western edge of the Appalachians is known as the "Toe Hills." The eastern border of the Rockies is known as the "Front Range" (why not the "back" range?). European settlement in much of the southwest originated in Mexico, yet we still ascribe to Horace Greely’s adage: Do not lounge in the cities! There is room and health in the country, away from the crowds of idlers and imbeciles. Go west, before you are fitted for no life but that of the factory.

Ohio testifies to the power of Greely’s sentiment. Following settlement of the Atlantic coast, and the initial push across the Appalachians into Kentucky, Ohio represented the "West." The Ohio River is formed in Pittsburgh by the junction of the Allegheny and Monongahela rivers and travels about 980 miles to Cairo, Illinois, and the Mississippi River (compliantly flowing from east to west). Therefore the Ohio offered a thoroughfare for Greely’s men eager to escape the "crowds of idlers and imbeciles." Adams County is a product of this movement, and its history is inextricably linked to the westward migration of settlers from the Atlantic states. Adams County, we soon learned, cannot be understood without first understanding the River.

So too must one understand the Native Americans that once populated this region. Nothing could serve as a more fitting (or powerful) monument to their presence than Serpent Mound State Memorial. This quarter-mile long effigy looks like an immense uncoiling snake. Archeologists continue to argue about who may have constructed the viper, but the consensus appears to be that the Fort Ancient Indians, who lived in Ohio between 900 and 1550 AD, should be credited with the work.

Virtually nowhere can you travel in Adams County without being confronted by its pre-European past. Burial mounds pock the landscape, and farmers continue to uncover shards and arrowheads when they plow their fields in the spring. Many Adams County residents have gathered sizable collections of artifacts, yet few are accessible to the public. Adams County keeps its secrets well.

In fact, the interpretation at Serpent Mound State Memorial is a sad example of this minimalist approach. One (as in ONE) interpretive sign attempts to explain this world-renowned site, and on the day of our visit the small museum, shuttered and locked tight, offered no answers to our many questions. For example, we wondered just who is Serpent Mound a memorial to? For an archeological site depicted in textbooks throughout the world, one would expect more than just a token effort at explaining its significance.

Yet we found the same to be true a few days later when we visited Fort Hill, another product of a mound building culture situated a few miles to the north in bordering Highland County. According to the Ohio Historical Society (OHS) web site, "Fort Hill State Memorial is a nature preserve containing one of the best preserved Indian hilltop enclosures in North America. The Hopewell Indians (100 B.C.- A.D. 500) constructed the 1 1/2 mile long earthwork hilltop enclosure as well as at least two ceremonial buildings and probably a village in the Brush creek Valley." Yet without access to a computer and the Internet, we were left with a closed museum (not reopening until Memorial Day), one interpretive sign that attempted a cursory description of the site and one hand-painted sign, mounted askew, that announced the "Fort Wall." Interestingly, according to the one interpretive sign at the beginning of the trail, the structure, once thought to be a fort, is now believed to have served a social, religious or ceremonial purpose.

As we wandered the Edge of Appalachia, we were continuously confronted with an exasperating absence of a story to fill the space between the covers (even though on one day we were accompanied by local historian Dr. Stan Brown). The human history of Adams County (the natural history will follow) is a curious (and sumptuous) potage of Serpent Mound, Zane’s Trace, tobacco farmers, riverboats, stone farmhouses, covered bridges, the Amish, Shaker baskets and a resilience that has kept humankind on this land for uncountable generations. Yet history by its very nature (the past) is static, and demands a raconteur to come alive. The dead do not speak for themselves. The Edge of Appalachia, on this score, is silent.

Fortunately, we prefer a clean slate for developing our tourism strategies than one marred by failed attempts. The Edge of Appalachia represents potential unrealized. Manchester awaits restoration. Serpent Mound awaits interpretation. Zane’s Trace awaits demarcation. The artists and artisans in the region await discovery.

More importantly, the world of travel awaits the Edge of Appalachia. Cincinnati, Dayton and Columbus are urban centers teeming with Ohioans eager to reconnect with the elements of humanity that are sacrificed in the city. The Edge of Appalachia offers refuge to these travelers eager to escape the sharp edges of the city.

The two (the traveler and the destination) must first be introduced. Adams County and the Edge of Appalachia must send invitations to their guests. Tidy up around the house, and turn on the porch light. The basics of tourism do not differ so greatly from the basics of neighborliness. In fact, the word that comes to mind is "hospitality." The Edge of Appalachia does not suffer from a lack of resources (historical, cultural or natural). The Edge of Appalachia lacks a plan for letting the world know it exists.

We will explore this further in our next installment of The Edge of Appalachia.

 

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Trip du Jour, 28 December 2000
The Edge of Appalachia, Part One
by Ted Eubanks


 


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