Watoga Trails Blog

For more than seven decades, the Botts have fished, swam, hiked, and oftentimes stayed at Cabin 20 at Watoga State Park. This is Flora Jane Bott’s memories about the swimming pool, that cabin next door and the park.

Cabin 20

“It was next to impossible to contain our excitement as we drove closer to park boundaries. With the windows down, the fresh smell of the forest wafted into our car. Driving to the park office to get the cabin key seemed to take forever. Once there, it became a challenge for my sister and I as we would navigate the wall and steps that went up two sides to the building like the letter “U.” We would finish off the step challenge with a drink of fresh cold water from the water fountain at the bottom.

“Alas, finally, we see the sign identifying Cabin 20. Most amenities were provided for us in the cabin, but that still meant unloading our suitcases, groceries, and other items my mother deemed as necessities for our week-long stay. Opening both doors to the cabin, running around, laying on the beds, and digging out our swimsuits and towels were all part of the initiation process.

“My family visited Watoga every summer long before I came into the scene. While we enjoyed Cabins 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, and 14, my mom and dad preferred Cabin 20 when we were young because of its proximity to the swimming pool and the recreation center.”

Fish, Deer and Raccoons

“Each cabin is unique for different reasons, but Cabin 20 watched three generations of the Bott family grow up and grow old. In that respect, Watoga helped form my endless love for our state.

“Cabin 20 was a short trail’s walk to the lake and an added bonus for my older brother, David. I’ll always remember the slightly smokey smell in the cabin. Then there was the banging noise of the wooden screen door hitting the door frame when it closed. We loved going fishing at the lake or the low water bridge crossing the Greenbrier River into Seebert. My mother amazed us by making fishing poles out of safety pins and long sticks. She was clever that way.

“In the evenings, we always went for a drive looking for wildlife – seeing the deer that came out to feed and the raccoon families scampering across the road.”

The Swimming Pool Next Door to Cabin 20

“Upon arrival, I was always in a hurry and impatient to get to the pool which was right next door. Its water was sparkling and refreshing. Swimming was my thing. And taking us swimming was my dad’s job. From June to August, the water was quite chilly, but we would get used to it.

“As a young child the baby pool as I called it was my hangout. It was the perfect place to practice my skills of learning how to swim. I would kick my feet while holding on to the concrete edge with my hands, and finally the bravery of practicing going under water. My mom would sit by the edge of the pool as I played. My mom was terrified of water because of a traumatic childhood memory. That’s why swimming was my dad’s job. As we got older, my mom would come over from Cabin 20 and sit on the wooden fence surrounding the pool and watch us swim. In spite of her fear, we all learned how to swim and loved the water.

“Swimming always gave us ferocious appetites. Dinner usually consisted of grilled chicken or steak, baked potatoes, and fresh local corn and sliced tomatoes. The pool closed at 6 p.m. so dinner was always close to that time. Bathing suits and towels hung on the line to dry. Time for a relaxing evening or a drive to look for deer.”

The Swimming Pool Called My Name

“The next day, we would go fishing at the lake or rent a paddle boat. But, at some point during the day, the pool always beckoned me back. As my sister and I got older, our aquatic skills improved, and we got braver. Being able to successfully swim around someone and grab the edge at the other side was a true testament of an improving swimming technique.

“To a small child, the diving board at Watoga was ginormous. The ultimate test of bravery was jumping off the diving board into my father’s arms. Then, he would give me a push to propel me to swim to the side. Swimming has been a lifelong passion of mine and I’m sure my memories and good times at Watoga are partially responsible for that passion.”

Watoga’s Magic

“What made Watoga so special? We would swim, fish, paddle boat, horseback ride, and play pool or ping pong. There were arranged hikes and a weekly softball game with cabin guests and staff at the airstrip near Beaver Creek Campground. If we didn’t feel like cooking, we could go to the restaurant and enjoy a meal.

“At Watoga, the possibilities were endless and for that idyllic week, the swimming pool and Cabin 20 became our home and the magic of the woods was our playground.”

Seventy-Two Years at Watoga

Four generations of the Bott family have stayed at Cabin 20, nestled in the pines next to the swimming pool at Watoga State Park.

For 72 years, the Botts have fished, swam, hiked, and along the way have made countless memories at the state’s largest recreation area. Specifically, from 1957-1967, these kinfolks called this particular cabin their home away from home.

And this is David Bott’s story about the swimming pool, the cabin next door and the park.

Discovering Watoga, Cabin 20 and the Swimming Pool

“My parents began traveling to Pocahontas County in 1948, staying at Graham’s Motel in Buckeye, fishing the Greenbrier River. Discovering Watoga, they soon began staying in the cabins. I began my love affair with Watoga at two-years-old.

“We stayed at Cabin 20 for at least ten years when my sisters [Barbara and Jane] were young. Before they were born, we generally stayed in the Pine Run area. Later we stayed in Cabin 1 and 2 down by the Greenbrier River. After I got married and had children, we stayed in Cabin 3 until it burned down.

“When Barbara and Jane were young, it was a logical choice for kids with a lot of energy and a need for activities. Mom liked the convenience of everything plus it allowed us to be entertained most of the time.

“Swimming during the day, exploring Island Lick Creek in the evenings, and catching crawdads to fish the lake. My parents almost always stayed the last week of August because they wanted to give us one last summer hurrah before school started.”

The Majesty of Cabin 20

“I think the layout was one of the features my mother enjoyed the most. The front door was almost center of the cabin. Walk into the living room/dining area. On either side of the fireplace were single beds. Mom and dad slept here. It was a magnificent fireplace. To the right was a hallway, first on the left, the kitchen, across the way, a bedroom. Down the hall on the right the other bedroom and bathroom across the hall. Backdoor to the woodshed and the little back porch was the raccoon dining area.”

Swimming Pool Humor

“I was in grade school; Barbara was in preschool and Jane was a toddler. My mother would require us to take a break from swimming in the afternoon. Barbara had to nap, but I got to run around. Instead, I jumped the fence and went back to the pool. Well, my mother went to the front desk and spoke with the lifeguards. They promptly came out and made me get out of the pool. They made a big show of it and banned me from swimming the rest of the day. Of course, all of this was contrived by my mother.”

Still Making Cabin 20 Memories Decades Later

“One of my favorite memories is a more recent one. My daughter, son-in-law and granddaughters stayed with us at Cabin 20 in 2007, the year of the extreme drought. We saw black bears venturing into the park. I spent a lot of time enjoying my granddaughters, helping them learn how to swim, teaching them how to dive. They had to do numerous trivial things for me that week because they lost a bet that I could not swim the length of the pool underwater.”

More to Come

In the next installment, Jane Bott, David’s sister, tells us about her days at the swimming pool, Cabin 20 and Watoga. Stay tuned.

What are your memories of the pool and Cabin 20? Please e-mail those to John at .

For more information on Cabin 20 or any other cabins at Watoga available for reservations, please click here.

A Continuing Series

Ahh, Memorial Day weekend is here! And, while growing up at Watoga State Park, the swimming pool is the place to be!

This is the last year for the pool (a new one is in the works), but not the last year for memories about this legendary swimming spot. In particular, many readers, visitors and park guests have relayed stories of how cold that water was. This is mine.

Recently, I spoke with my cousin, Debra Dean Murphy, to ask how she remembers the pool. As a matter of fact, Deb was a lifeguard at the pool from 1979-1984. Likewise, I was a lifeguard from 1977-1979. It’s a long-standing Dean tradition to always get in the pool on this holiday weekend no matter the weather.

“The water in the Watoga pool was so cold it would literally take your breath away and make your lips turn blue,” Deb said. “But it was the pool and we loved it and we couldn’t imagine not swimming and diving and playing games in it. There were also those rare occasions when, during or after a rain, the water would feel surprisingly warm.”

Furthermore, Coach Tom Sanders: lifeguard at Watoga (1973-1975) recalls: “I think the water was from a spring. It was really cold, cold water. When the air temperature was cold, swimmers could not stay in the pool awfully long after taking a swim. The pool was always known to be cooler than the nearby swimming holes in the local rivers.”

A Frosty Morning at the Pool

So, on that memorable Memorial Day weekend, here’s what happens next:

Date: Sunday, May 28, 1972

Morning temperature: 30 degrees. Afternoon high: 76 degrees. Weather data courtesy of the National Centers for Environmental Information – National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration.

Brrr, to say the least, right?

As can be seen from that subfreezing temp, this opening day weekend is not what you would call ideal swimming conditions (not that any weekend until mid-August at the pool ever is).

However, in the 1970s, solar power meant the actual sun. On hot days, the cluster of pine trees above the pool would provide welcome shade, but on this frosty morning, they keep any glimpse of the sun away. Moreover, even on a warm summer day, the water is chilly. In reality, the water is freezing cold!

The Swimming Pool Bone-Chilling Plunge

You may be wondering if anyone went swimming that day, right?

At 10 a.m.? Absolutely not!

The lifeguards have on jeans, sweat shirts, winter headgear and coats. Undeniably, it is so cold that you can see your breath. I have on my swimming trunks under my jeans. Deb is bundled inside a heavy blanket covering her black Speedo suit. In particular, no other brave souls have ventured to the pool. Meanwhile, we gather inside the bathhouse, near the front entrance, hoping for a sudden tropical warmup.

All of a sudden it begins snowing. It’s like a whiteout – gusty, swirling winds with arctic blasts bringing a steady stream of snowflakes onto the crystal-clear waters of the swimming pool.

However, Deb and I are not going to let a little snow halt a family ritual at the swimming pool. The lifeguards look on in astonishment as Deb and I jump into deep end of the pool, even though it is only for about 30 seconds.

Quickly swimming to the edge faster than an Olympic freestyle gold medalist, Deb and I get out before we are frozen in time. We are shaking and shivering uncontrollably, teeth chattering loudly. We hurriedly grab our nearby towels as hot showers await us.

That is my bone-chilling snow day at the pool. What is yours? Please email your pool memories to " target="_blank">. Near Labor Day, I will be publishing a blog(s) to commemorate readers’ memories at the swimming pool.

About the Author

John C. Dean lived at Watoga for 16 years from 1960-1976, until his dad, Vernon C., retired after 43 years of service with the West Virginia Division of Natural Resources.

You may be familiar with the idiom “opening a can of worms,” but what about “opening a can of black snakes”?

In fact, this is the story about a can of black snakes rearing their heads and hissing!

For reptile lovers, copperheads, rattlesnakes and black snakes can be found at Watoga State Park. However, this post concentrates on just one species: the seemingly harmless black snake — the Northern black racer: (Coluber c. constrictor).

“This snake is slender, glossy black in color and may attain a length of six feet. The dorsal scales are smooth and the chin and throat are white. Black Racers occur throughout the state in moist woodlands and fields, where they feed on birds and mammals, as well as amphibians and reptiles. Approximately 25 off-white, elliptical eggs are deposited in loose soil or sawdust piles. Hatchlings have 30 or more reddish brown blotches on a gray background. The banded juvenile pattern slowly disappears as the snake grows larger, and the snake is completely black by the time it reaches 30 inches in length.”

“Snakes of West Virginia,” published by the West Virginia Division of Natural Resources, Wildlife Resources Section.

Ophidiophobia

So, do snakes scare you too?

Before opening that can of black snakes, let me confess that snakes scare me! All snakes. This phobia is known as Ophidiophobia, or ophiophobia. Furthermore, I don’t care if they are venomous or not. For example, just researching and reading a blog post about snakes at West Virginia‘s largest state park creeps me out. Maybe you have nightmares about these reptilians too. In that regard, a future blog will delve into the vivid details of how I became so terrified of snakes.

Let’s Talk About This Can of Black Snakes

Now that you know one of my greatest fears in life, let’s begin to open (ever so carefully) that can of black snakes.

The year: 1963. The place: Near Beaver Creek Campground. The participants: My brother, Gilbert, my sister, Della, and my mom. Gilbert is 9. Della is almost a teenager. Mom is pregnant with my youngest sister, Vicki Lynn.

However, I am just a toddler in the early 60s, Freckles, our pet deer has yet to be rescued by my dad, and the black bear with Paul McCartney eyes has yet to be seen near Calvin Price State Forest.

To begin with, my brother Gilbert is behind the adventurous and daring display that leads to those snakes becoming the topic of Dean conversations for decades to come. When snowstorms knock out our electricity for days on end at the park, we sometimes tell ghost stories and, of course, this snake story too, as we sit huddled together with kerosene lanterns casting an eerie glow about the living room at Watoga.

I recall mom (1921-1998) telling us about Gilbert’s antics, but I wanted to hear Gilbert’s and Della’s versions of those events once more.

The Black Snakes are Hissing

“C’mon mom, I wanna show you something,” Gilbert says.

Even though mom is tired after a day of working in the fields at my grandparents’ 211-acre farm that borders Watoga, she follows Gib that hot summer day at the park. Della, 12, walks beside mom.

At 9, Gib is excited to reveal his “surprise” to Mom. As with most Deans, adventures at Watoga oftentimes lead to interesting and mischievous adventures and practical jokes.

The trio walk to the trash cans situated between our home and the brown wooden sided maintenance garage near the campground.

“Look, Mom, look what I found!” Gilbert excitedly says. “Look inside the garbage can.”

Opening the shiny metal lid, Mom sees about 20 black snakes of various sizes and shapes encircling the bottom of the 30-gallon trash container trying to slither their way to the top of the can.

“The black snakes are all curled up. They are trying to climb up the side of the garbage can. Their heads rear, their mouths open, and they hiss loudly.”

— Della Dean Johnson

A New Version of Afternoon Sickness

After peering inside the trash receptacle, Mom lets out a scream that can be heard as far away as Kennison Mountain, about 16 miles from the park.

Obviously, Mom is not a fan of snakes either.

“Git rid of those snakes right now, right away,” she sternly tells Gib. Della remembers that Mom got sick after seeing the snakes, and it is not your typical morning sickness either. So, instead, a new version of afternoon sickness is unleashed that day.

A Few Slithery Details

So, just how do those reptiles get in the trash can?

Gib discovers a nest of the black snakes in a couple piles of saw dust between our home and the nearby maintenance garage about 200 yards from the campground.

“I find quite a number of them,” Gib recalls. “These are not baby snakes either. They range in size from about 2 or 3 feet to about 5 feet. Because I didn’t have a stick or anything to catch them with, I grab them with my hands; I put two fingers at the base of the snake’s neck to where it cannot bite me. I didn’t get bit once. They did climb up my arm and squeeze it though.”

I wanted to know if Vicki also had a fear of snakes. She says emphatically: “I hate them!”

Needless to say, I am leery of opening any garbage can lids.

In conclusion, I like a good laugh or two or enjoy pulling a prank too — just none involving black snakes, copperheads or rattlers. To put it another way, and as my mom screamed that day, “Git rid of those snakes right now, right away!”

About the Author

John C. Dean lived at Watoga for 16 years from 1960-1976, until his dad, Vernon C., retired after 43 years of service with the West Virginia Division of Natural Resources. He can be reached at .

How did West Virginia Become Known as “Wild and Wonderful”?

Have you ever gone fishing for wild rainbow trout? Do you have a “Wild and Wonderful’ rainbow trout fishin’ story to share? Well, I have. And here is my fishing story.

From a pet deer to a black bear, those carefree days in the late 1960s for Ronnie and I were “Wild and Wonderful” action-filled adventures while Growing Up at Watoga State Park. In reality, my mom, my brother and I used those words before then-Gov. Arch A. Moore, Jr. did so at a 1969 speech at The Greenbrier in White Sulphur Springs.

In 1975, the phrase “Wild and Wonderful West Virginia” became part of West Virginia’s welcome signs, marketing materials and license plates, and stayed put until 1991. After a 16-year absence, that slogan was instituted once again in 2007 after it beat out the popular taglines “Almost Heaven” and “The Mountain State.”

Back to 1969, when sometimes mom would refer to Ronnie and me as “wild!” Neither of us knew that “Wild and Wonderful” would become synonymous with our home state. At the same time, we were too occupied with “Wild and Wonderful” activities enveloping us at Watoga State Park and Calvin Price State Forest near Marlinton to pay much attention to such words. With this in mind, here’s one of my “Wild and Wonderful” rainbow trout fishing adventures.

Snakes, Arrowheads, Fortresses, and Freckles, our Pet Deer

On that overcast spring day, Ronnie and I create names for the various cumulus cloud formations. We see dandelions too, but mostly feel them squish between our toes, as we run “wild” discovering “wonderful” treasures like snakes, arrowheads and old fortresses hidden deep within the woods past the airstrip near the state forest.

“Johnny, look at that huge trout way up there!” Ronnie exclaims. “See it?”

“Yeah, but do you see Freckles?” In this case, Freckles was our pet deer in 1968, and now a popular resident at French Creek Game Farm (later renamed the West Virginia State Wildlife Center) near Buckhannon.

Wherever Ronnie ventures this April day, I try to follow. Sometimes I am successful; other times not so much. After all, he’s my big brother, my hero, my teacher. Ronnie is 11. I am three years younger. So, one rainy evening near dusk, at the Beaver Creek Campground, we dig into the damp soil to collect about two dozen night crawlers, and then drop them in a blue, white and orange Maxwell House coffee can.

The “Wild and Wonderful” Fishin’ Pole

The next day, Ronnie asks “Hey Johnny! Wanna come with me?”

“Yeah, sure. But, what we gonna do?”

Naturally, I am excited to tag along no matter where it is or what we might do. As a matter of fact, it isn’t often that Ronnie invites me to go on one of his journeys throughout the park.

“We’re goin’ fishin’ then! C’mon, let’s go to Laurel Run.” Laurel Run is one of Ronnie’s favorite spots to journey off to by himself and leave me standing at the intersection to either Burr Valley or the park superintendent’s residence.

“Johnny, go git that ole coffee can we had last night. Those are our fishin’ worms. You’re gonna catch a big, ole trout today!” Of course, I ran full steam ahead to our secret hiding place behind the maintenance garage, close to the rustic campground.

To begin this “Wild and Wonderful” rainbow trout fishin’ story, Ronnie and I find two fallen branches from an oak to serve as that day’s fishing poles.

First, Ronnie finds some dirty tennis shoe strings to be our bait lines. Second, he coaxes me into snagging some safety pins from Mom’s sewing box, neatly tucked beside her Singer sewing machine. Third, some aging yellow twine becomes our fishing lines. Fourth, Ronnie ties a knot a few inches from the limb’s base and then winds the string along the four-foot branch to the end of my brand-new fishing apparatus. Finally, he secures a small pebble to the end of the string as a weight. Mom’s safety pins are our hooks.

Learning how to Reel in a “Wild and Wonderful” Rainbow Trout

To begin with, Ronnie shows me how to drop my improvised fishing line into Laurel Run. I hear a subtle splash as the stone and the night crawler enter the sparkling mountain waters. We wait for our lines to sink deeper. Not only does Ronnie help me to move the pole slowly back and forth, but also he teaches me how to bring the rod closer to my body, and then to lift it out of the water.

“Ok, do it again, Johnny. Throw the line back out there in the middle of that hole. You’ll git the hang of it. I know ya will.” And I repeat this several times. After a few minutes, Ronnie asks if there’s been a bite yet.

“No, I don’t think so. How would I know?”

“Oh, you’ll know all right. When a trout that’s bigger than you pulls, you’ll be learnin’ how to swim all the way to the pool and back again!”

So, we wait. And then wait some more. I notice Ronnie looking into the nearby cluster of oak and pine trees. I look too, noticing a few deer cautiously observing us standing in one of their water sources. Naturally, I wonder if Freckles is making new friends at the game farm.

Seeing my First “Wild and Wonderful” Rainbow Trout

Then it happens. I feel a tug at last. Without delay, Ronnie calmly wades over, tells me to firmly hold my pole and to guide it toward me, and finally to lift the catch up and out of the water.

“See it, Johnny? Would ya look at that? Look, it’s beautiful and check out those colors!”

“Oh my gosh, Ronnie. I can’t believe it. I caught a fish! Look, I caught him!”

“Yeah, Johnny, you got one all right. You just caught your very first wild rainbow trout! Way to go! Would you look at that? Talk about a beaut!”

At this point, I continue to admire the “Wild and Wonderful” rainbow trout’s subtle blues and greens. Those hues on its slender body mesmerize me.

“You wanna keep it? It’s up to you.”

To say the least, I am ecstatic to catch my first fish with Ronnie’s help. Even though it isn’t a trophy-sized catch, and most likely a baby, that “Wild and Wonderful” rainbow trout lives to swim another day in the crystal-clear waters of Laurel Run. I never became an expert angler like Ronnie, but whenever I see a rainbow, the array of colors reminds me that fishing for wild rainbow trout is just one of my many colorful “Wild and Wonderful” Watoga adventures.

Where Will Your “Wild and Wonderful” Adventure Take Place?

The West Virginia Department of Natural Resources stocks all four types of trout at Watoga Lake (rainbow, golden rainbow, brook, and brown trout) at some point throughout the year. Trout are not stocked at Laurel Run. Visit the DNR website for to decide where you will catch your next “Wild and Wonderful” trophy-sized fish.

Let’s go fishing for wild rainbow trout! It’s sure to be “Wild and Wonderful.”

John C. Dean lived at Watoga for 16 years from 1960-1976, until his dad, Vernon C., retired after 43 years of service with the West Virginia Division of Natural Resources. He can be reached at " target="_blank">