Arrowhead Discoveries in All the Right Places at Watoga

Have you ever seen an arrowhead at Watoga State Park?

Recently, I spoke to two gentleman (both named Ken) who found arrowheads at the park.

Finding an Arrowhead with your Dad — Priceless

Ken Caplinger, former Watoga Assistant Superintendent (1979-1984), later served as West Virginia State Parks Chief and is now a board member of the West Virginia State Parks Foundation.

“One was by an employee when we were building the Allegheny Trail connector from the Beaver Creek Campground over toward Honeymoon Trail.

“The other was when my Dad was visiting me and he accompanied me on a work task to the picnic area over across from Pine Run cabin area. We were walking along the little creek that comes down from the picnic shelter and he spotted an arrowhead in the edge of the creek.”

Finding an 11,000-Year-Old Arrowhead

Ken Springer, Vice-President of The Watoga Foundation, relayed the following:

“I found the arrowhead approximately three years ago on the Monongaseneka Trail. See more of Ken’s find including the history of arrowheads here.

Ken stated that the “design indicates it may be Archaic, a group of Native Americans who lived in settlements in our area in the period from 9000 BC to 4500 BC. “

Arrowhead found at Watoga on the Monongaseneka Trail, 2018. Photo by Ken Springer.
Arrowhead found at Watoga on the Monongaseneka Trail, 2018. 📸: Ken Springer.
1-5/8 inch arrowhead found at Watoga State Park. Ken Springer is illustrating the length of the point. Photo by Ken Springer, 2018.
1-5/8 inch arrowhead found at Watoga with this image illustrating the length of the point. 📸: Ken Springer, 2018.

“If it were a projectile point, it would have been used with a spear and atlatl [a spear-throwing lever], not a bow and arrow as they were yet to be invented in North America.”

Ken Springer’s arrowhead is on display at the Watoga Nature Center. Please note that it is illegal to remove any object, such as an arrowhead, from any park in West Virginia.

Finding Your First Arrowhead With Your Brother

I was with my older brother, Ronnie, when I discovered my first arrowhead, but I was not allowed to keep it. Our dad, a park ranger at Watoga, taught us at a young age not to keep what nature left for us and others to admire and enjoy.

However, it was always an adventure searching for these flint-like creations. The expansiveness of Watoga and nearby Calvin Price State Forest provided Ronnie and I ample opportunities to search for arrowheads. And, getting to see one up close and personal proved to be exhilarating for an 8-year-old.

The Airstrip and Calvin Price State Forest

There were a couple of spots where Ronnie and I found those treasured items.
Specifically, we had the most success on our exploration missions at the expansive airstrip near the Beaver Creek Campground.

At least once a week, Ronnie and I would venture into the secluded wilderness that surrounded us. Notably, the first time that I ever spotted an arrowhead was along the path leading into the forest, close to a small mountain stream oftentimes reduced to a trickle during the heat of the summer. Just seeing one and not even having picked it up yet caused my heart to beat faster.

Excitedly, I jumped up and down with joy.

“Ronnie, Ronnie, look what I found! Come over here. I think it’s an arrowhead.”

Of course, Ronnie was wiser about these matters than me, and upon closer inspection, he said: “You sure did, Johnny. Wow, that’s a nice one too!”

Remembering What Dad Taught Us

Before crossing that small creek to head home, Ronnie stopped. He showed me what Dad had taught us about not removing or keeping historic artifacts that we may discover at the park. Ronnie slowly bent down and carefully placed the tan-colored arrowhead neatly under a nearby rock.

“There,” Ronnie said, “I wonder who will discover this next?”

During your stay at Watoga, explore and take in the wilderness surrounding you. You may even see the arrowhead that Ronnie and I returned to its rightful place more than 50 years ago. In the meantime, please give any discoveries to personnel at the park office for display at the nature center or simply leave it where you found it. The next park visitor will be glad that you did.

About the Author

John C. Dean lived at Watoga from for 16 years until his father, Vernon, retired after 43 years of service with the Division of Natural Resources. On John’s “bucket list” is returning to the airstrip and seeing an arrowhead one last time. You can reach John at

Growing Up at Watoga State Park — The Paved Road Not Taken

A few of the roads Various points of interest at Watoga State Park, including a path "less traveled." Photos include views of TM Cheek Memorial, the airstrip near the Beaver Creek Campground, the wooded Allegheny Trail, Watoga Lake, the swimming pool and a rhodendrom bloom. Photo collage by John C. Dean.
Various points of interest at Watoga State Park, including a path “less traveled.” Photo collage by John C. Dean.

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Robert Frost – 1874-1963

The Farm on Chicken House Run Road

While growing up at Watoga State Park, there were many roads to take or not to take. Sometimes the road not taken might be the quickest route to the swimming pool.

My grandfather, Alfred G. Dean (1890-1973), known as “Pap,” and my grandmother, Ina C. Smith Dean (1894-1990), known as “Ma,” owned a farm that bordered Watoga in scenic Pocahontas County. Moreover, Pap was a superintendent of the Civilian Conservation Corps that helped build the park’s cabins, the swimming pool, and other infrastructure projects in the 1930s.

Ma and Pap’s 211-acre farm was at the end of Chicken House Run Road. The visual of that picturesque road comes to mind whenever I hear John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads.”

Gardens, Animals, Hay, Kate the Horse, and the 1800s

In the late 1960s and the early 1970s, my older brother, Ronnie, and I spent several summers working and playing at the farm where we learned how to harvest the bounty of large gardens, how to raise cattle, chickens, and hogs, and how to hoist bales of hay into the barn’s loft. Pap also taught us how to ride Kate, the farm’s workhorse.

Alfred and Ina Dean's home on Chicken House Road near Watoga State Park, circa 1930s. Photographer unknown.
Alfred and Ina Dean’s home on Chicken House Road near Watoga State Park, circa 1930s. Photographer unknown.

Every evening, Ronnie and I brushed Kate’s glistening brown hair. Afterwards, we sat near Ma’s well-tended dahlias and peonies in the front yard shaded by the 60-year-old sugar maple tree. We were mesmerized as Pap and Ma told stories about the 19th Century (yeah, that would be in the 1800s) and the early 1900s.

The Road Not Taken to the Swimming Pool

In particular, in the mid-afternoons of one hot summer of 1972 (after the Big Boy tomatoes or the Kennebec potatoes were hoed), Ronnie and I were rewarded by being allowed to go to the park’s swimming pool about three miles away.

So, how did we get there? As a matter of fact, it wasn’t on Kate’s back.

Imagine this: We walked. However, most of the time, we ran more than we walked. And this is where the “road not taken” came into play.

When the dirt road a couple of miles from Ma and Pap’s home intersected with the park’s asphalt pavement not far from the north entrance to the park close to Beaver Creek Road, Ronnie and I had a decision to make: Continue to walk on the asphalt surface or venture along Laurel Trail, a narrow path veering off to the right. This trail was lined with elderberry bushes, thickets of briars, fallen trees, and mountain laurel (thus the trail’s name).

We could have chosen the easy way and avoided several leg scratches caused by thorns and further irritated by the pool’s chlorinated water. Yet, we chose a different road.

Laurel Trail’s Intoxicating Allure

Laurel Trail beckoned Ronnie and I to walk where the terrain, flora and fauna were more interesting. We sampled wild blackberries and elderberries, and oftentimes stopped to catch our breath, watching deer playing freely in the lush forest. The sounds of birds chirping and twigs snapping filled the air.

At the end of that road “less traveled” was our reward—the crystal-clear invigorating water of the swimming pool. Importantly, not once during that unforgettable summer did we ever say that the pool’s water felt cold!

Laurel Trail is a small part of 40 miles of trails nestled in the pristine wilderness of Watoga. What’s your trail adventure or “Road Not Taken” story during your visit to the park? Feel free to share those by emailing me at

About the Author

For 16 years, John C. Dean lived on-site at Watoga until his dad, Vernon, retired after 43 years of service with the Division of Natural Resources. In 1976, the Deans moved to Ma and Pap’s farm on Chicken House Run Road.

A Fourth of July Uncola Adventure at Watoga State Park

A West Virginia 7 Up cA West Virginia 7 Up can released in advance of the Fourth of July, 1976. Photo courtesy of ebay.comPhoto courtesy of ebay's Image Majick. The name West Virginia is comprised of a square pattern that contains white circular dots blanded over a solid red border. United We Stand is highlighted at the bottom of the square (in white letters) over a red color. The colors are the standard red, white and blue overlaying 7 Up's standard green color.
A West Virginia 7 Up can released in advance of the Fourth of July, 1976. Photo courtesy of

A Fourth of July Uncola Pyramid?

With the Fourth of July just a few days away, I was thinking about our country’s 200th birthday in 1976. What was I doing as a teenager growing up at Watoga State Park? Sure, there were picnics, hot dogs, baseball, firecrackers, and the swimming pool. But just why was a pyramid being built at the pool?

Obviously, we were not building a pyramid like the one the Egyptians constructed. Our mission and adventure during that bicentennial celebration was to find and then stack 7 Up (also known as the Uncola) cans into a triangular shape. End result? Read on.

United We Stand

Just what was it about those cans? Well, 7 Up’s clever advertising team designed them to have a wide appeal across the U.S. For that matter, the strategy also worked at the state’s largest park.

Known as the “United We Stand” collection, 7 Up debuted its 50-can set in 1976. As shown in the photo above, West Virginia’s can revealed more specific details (for example, 1863 as the year admitted to the Union; 35th state; capital of Charleston; and nickname of The Mountain State). The other 49 states followed the same pattern.

In anticipation of the Fourth of July for America's BicentenniaThese 50 7 Up cans featured state-specific information. Photo courtesy of Photo courtesy of ebay's Image Majick. Each state name is comprised of a square pattern that contains specific state information like year admitted, its capital and state motto. White circular dots blanded over a solid red border. United We Stand is highlighted at the bottom of the square (in white letters) over a red color. The predominant color on the cans is the standard red, white and blue overlaying 7 Up's standard green color.
These 50 7 Up cans featured state-specific information. Photo courtesy of

So how did these cans go together? Each was numbered 1-50. On the back of Can No. 1 were instructions how to build the display. Can No. 50 had the words “United We Stand.” Once completed, the other side portrayed an image of Uncle Sam (remember those iconic Uncle Sam “I Want You” recruitment posters?)

Obsessed with the Uncola

Before, during and after the Fourth of July, finding 7 Up cans became a months-long adventure and obsession.

While catchy tunes like Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” often blared on an 8-track tape player at swimming pool, we sometimes found a missing can park guests had left behind. Our stack of red, white, blue, and 7 Up’s signature green cans began forming something unique.

After all, myself, my sister, Vicki and our cousins, Deb and Kim, and even the lifeguards were on a mission find those cans — at the pool, at the grocery store in Marlinton or at empty campsites at the Beaver Creek Campground. And when we found a can, we learned interesting details about that specific state.

Did We Succeed on that Fourth of July?

In 1976, my family’s Fourth of July celebration at Watoga featured the standard picnic food, but also some of that lemon-lime-flavored refreshment. Rest assured that no cans were harmed or dented during consumption. In case you were wondering about our success or failure: Yes, by summer’s end, we had found all 50 cans.

Known as 7 Up's "United We Stand" collectKnown as 7 Up's "United We Stand" collection, the 50 state cans (photo courtesy of, reveals a depiction of the iconic Uncle Sam's "I Want You" recruitment poster.Shades of red, white and blue reveal the image of Uncle Sam's face pointing as if to say "I Want You."
Known as 7 Up’s “United We Stand” collection, the 50 state cans (photo courtesy of, reveal a depiction of the iconic Uncle Sam’s “I Want You” recruitment poster.

Feel free to share your Fourth of July memories at Watoga by e-mailing me at

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.

One Family’s Love Affair with Watoga, the Swimming Pool and Cabin 20

Watoga Sate Park. Nestled in the background is Cabin 20. | 📸: @john.c.dean
Side view of the swimming pool at Watoga Sate Park. Nestled in the background is Cabin 20. | 📸: @john.c.dean

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

“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.

Flora Jane Bott and her dad, Leonard, spent hours together at the swimming pool. This is Flora and her dad in Morgantown, West Virginia in 1969. | 📸: Barbara Bott Joseph.
Flora Jane Bott and her dad, Leonard, spent hours together at the swimming pool. This is Flora and her dad in Morgantown, West Virginia in 1969. | 📸: Barbara Bott Joseph.

“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.”

The Swimming Pool at Watoga — The Day It Snowed!

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!

Watoga Sate Park. Nestled in the background is Cabin 20. | 📸: @john.c.dean
Side view of the swimming pool at Watoga Sate Park. Nestled in the background is Cabin 20. | 📸: @john.c.dean

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 Near Labor Day, I will be publishing a blog(s) to commemorate readers’ memories at the swimming pool.

Roadside perspective of the Watoga State Park Swimming Pool before trees were thinned to allow more sunlight. | Watoga Sate Park. | 📸: @john.c.dean
Roadside perspective of the Watoga State Park Swimming Pool before trees were thinned to allow more sunlight. | Watoga Sate Park. | 📸: @john.c.dean

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.

The Swimming Pool at Watoga — A Continuing Series

Visitors enjoying a summer afternoon in the Watoga State Park Swimming Pool. | Photographer unknown
Visitors enjoying a summer afternoon in the Watoga State Park Swimming Pool. | Photographer unknown

My Favorite Swimming Pool in the Whole Wide World

For 80 years at the Watoga State Park Swimming Pool, countless sunbathers and swimmers have graced its water and tread on its time-worn concrete decks.

Tentatively, this will be the last summer for the pool as we now know it. Plans are underway for the construction of a “new and improved” facility for future generations. As more details become available, I will provide timely updates. And, in that vein, I also look forward to telling you the differences between life at the pool — then and now.

But, today’s musing focuses more on a personal thrill at the pool at West Virginia’s largest state park. Since this is a continuing blog, we will talk to others about their days at the pool, and we will also get the inside scoop from behind-the-scenes personnel for continuing updates.

The swimming pool is legendary for its ice-cold, frigid, Siberia-like water temperatures. Just pick a winter-like adjective and it fits nicely when talking about going for a dip. I too vividly recall those arctic waters while growing up at Watoga. No matter how cold the water, this pool is and always will be my favorite swimming pool in the whole wide world!

Current Swimming Pool Opening Day Plans

Detailed plans for opening dates at state park swimming pools have not been released. For the most up-to-date information, please utilize the following resources:

West Virginia-specific information: Call the toll-free hotline 1-800-887-4304 or visit:
West Virginia Department of Health & Human Resources:
Centers for Disease Control & Prevention –
World Health Organization –

The Swimming Pool and the Thrill of Victory

When you learn how to swim at a young age, oftentimes you are called “a fish.” As a result of days, weeks, months and years of “living” at the pool, I dream of being the next Mark Spitz and winning multiple Olympic gold medals. Imagine a mentor instructing you how to perfect a dive from the pool’s springboard.

Remember “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat,” from ABC’s Wide World of Sports? And, it is nice to say that those memories at Watoga’s pool are dominated more by the “thrills” than they are the “defeats.”

Likewise, it is still a thrill to know that where I learned to swim is part of the majestic expanse of natural beauty and wonders nestled in the expanse of 10,000-plus acres. Certainly, I didn’t give it much thought when I was younger, but the foresight and planning to build the pool where it is amazes me.

Learning How to Dive

In 1973, “Coach” Tom Sanders is one of the lifeguards at the swimming pool. I am 12 and can swim well, but I have not conquered the art of diving yet.

“Ok, John, remember to tuck your chin,” Coach says. “Feet together. Bend your knees a little. Lean forward. Don’t look up. I am going to help you fall in. Ok, you ready?”

“Yeah, I’m ready, Coach.”

“You sure? Get set? Here we go!”

And with that, Coach ever so slowly nudges me forward into the deep end of the pool. I do not keep my chin tucked and subsequently complete what is commonly known as a “belly smacker.” Ouch!

At this instant, I think that this process may take longer than the time it took to walk the few miles to the pool from our home near Beaver Creek Campground at the north entrance to the park.

“All right, John, let’s try it again. It is going to take some practice just like those corner shots you like to take at the gym. Remember why we practice basketball for two hours after school, right?”

As a matter of fact, I did practice that dive for several days. I would arrive at the pool early each day before park guests had arrived for the day. The pool opens at 11 a.m. and closes at 6 p.m. When Coach had time or the pool wasn’t crowded, he would provide much needed guidance.

“Remember to keep your head down when you go in the water. Toes together. Don’t look up.”

After the third day, I have the technique down, thanks to Coach’s encouragement, cheers, hand claps and positive reinforcement techniques.

Coach, This Dive’s for You!

In conclusion, Thomas “Coach” Sanders was a teacher for a decade and a principal for 31 years in Pocahontas County.

Until now, I never conveyed to Coach how instrumental he was in not only my aquatic development, but also in my educational and career choices. Undoubtedly, absent Coach’s guidance, I would not have been able to do what some consider a simple maneuver. Above all, Coach Sanders instilled in me to always try my best in life no matter what the task. So, it pays dividends to never give up, to give it your all, and as the proverb states “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try, try again.”

Without a doubt, Coach, this dive’s for you!

Editor’s Note:

Throughout the next few months, John will be compiling stories, memories, facts, and tidbits about readers’ experiences at the swimming pool. Near Labor Day, he will publish that collection for posterity’s sake. Please share your swimming pool experiences with John at or post on his Facebook writing page by clicking this link to go to John C. Dean, Writer.

Entrance to bathhouse and swimming pool at Watoga State Park. | Photographer unknown
Entrance to bathhouse and swimming pool at Watoga State Park. | Photographer unknown

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.

The Copperheads — Fight or Flight? Maybe Fright?

“We are the Copperheads — the mighty, mighty Copperheads. Everywhere we go, people wanna know, so we tell them.”

This chant is still the battle cry for Marlinton Middle School today as it was at my ole stompin’ grounds in the 1970s. Regardless, I am not a fan of snakes! Without a doubt, those copperheads are “mighty,” but the chants remind me of a not so pleasant day at Watoga State Park.

Copperheads mostly lie still, oftentimes in a curled or twisted position. The northern copperhead is a venomous pit viper subspecies in the eastern U.S. | 📸: U.S. Centers for Disease Control
Copperheads mostly lie still, oftentimes in a curled or twisted position. The northern copperhead is a venomous pit viper subspecies in the eastern U.S. | 📸: U.S. Centers for Disease Control

Nonetheless, it did not help my fear of snakes that my junior high school’s logo and cheers revolved around the copperhead snake. During this era, everyone is proud (except me and maybe a few others who wouldn’t admit it) that “we are the Copperheads.”

“The fight or flight response, or stress response, is triggered by a release of hormones either prompting us to stay and fight or run away and flee.”

Freeze! It’s the Mighty, Mighty Copperheads

Just a quick note about the copperhead snake and I’ll get right back to that scary encounter with one at West Virginia’s largest state park.

Found in the eastern U.S., the northern copperhead (Agkistrodon contortrix mokasen) is a venomous pit viper subspecies. The copperhead’s average length is between two and three feet, and its diet consists of rodents, insects, small birds, and amphibians. In the Mountain State, the copperhead’s home is in wooded and rocky areas, and it does not actively seek human contact. Copperheads often lie still (like “freezing”), but will strike if people unknowingly step near them or on them (like I almost did).

The Trouble Writing About Copperheads

Since some experts suggest that writing about your fears helps allay them, this is my feeble attempt at accomplishing that. However, my previous attempt writing about black snakes didn’t cure me. I double-checked; yep, still scared.

In particular, I think that almost being stricken at such a young age by a copperhead may have been the traumatizing event that triggered this deep-seated lifelong fear. And, I am not so sure that I would be writing this story if not for my mom.

Until now, I have never written about this topic. I could blame writer’s block (such an easy excuse to avoid the real reason), but that’s not really the case. So, in essence, here’s my best recollection about that twisted copperhead.

The Jumpman Pose Before Michael Jordan

Ronnie and I are tossing a baseball in the front yard of the conservation officer’s residence, near the north entrance to the park. This cabin is nestled next to a narrow mountain stream where we often caught tad poles, minnows and frogs. Specifically, we are enjoying the chance to run carefree and relieve some of that winter’s cabin fever.

In the meantime, mom is sitting in the brown wooden rocker on the front porch. All of a sudden, mom instinctively spots a copperhead and issues a warning cry that a viper is about to strike me!

“Johnny, watch out. There’s a copperhead! Run!”

Rather than doing what mom instructs, I instead look down and see what lurks below. And, somehow, someway, I leap up and outward.

When I first saw the Michael Jordan Jumpman logo for Nike decades later, it conjured up images of me leaping skyward over the dreaded copperhead. All right, maybe that was more related to my basketball days as a Marlinton Copperhead!

Photo Courtesy of @AFT-West Virginia
This is where the Copperheads live. Marlinton Middle School students gather in the gym below the viper logo. | 📸: @AFT-West Virginia

On the other hand, mom’s well-timed alert about the copperhead snake may have not only saved my life, but it also taught me to pay closer attention to my surroundings – beneath, above, beside, in front of, and behind, and above.

At least, that is how I like to recall that warm spring day in the late 1960s. Years later, Ronnie would still tease me by comparing my screams that day to the wheel screech of a Shay No. 5 making a sharp turn on the downward descent from Bald Knob at Cass Scenic Railroad State Park.

On the positive side and fortunately for me, I did not feel the viper’s sting that day and, needless to say, I avoid ALL snakes at ALL costs. Oh, I said that already, didn’t I?

It’s Your Choice — Fight or Flight the Coopperheads?

What do you do when you see a copperhead snake? Run like the wind? Stand your ground and fight?

While trying to write about this fear of snakes (Ophidiophobia or ophiophobia), I came across what happens to your body during a stressful situation — be it your memorable encounter with a coiled and ready-to-strike copperhead snake at Watoga, a road rage incident about to intensify during your morning rush hour commute or a vicious dog ready to pounce during your peaceful morning stroll.

Regardless of the specifics of each encounter, you now must decide: fight or flight.

“The fight or flight response, or stress response, is triggered by a release of hormones either prompting us to stay and fight or run away and flee,” explains psychologist Carolyn Fisher, PhD. “During the response, all bodily systems are working to keep us alive in what we’ve perceived as a dangerous situation.”

What Happens to You Physically?

According to The Cleveland Clinic, during the stress response, the following may occur:

  • Your heart beats faster and your blood pressure goes up.
  • Your pupils dilate.
  • You have a muted response to pain.
  • Your skin is flushed or pale.
  • You may lose control of your bladder.
  • You are more observant of your surrounding and your senses kick into high gear.
  • Stress hormones flow throughout your body, causing trembling or twitching.
  • Your memories can be affected – not recalling details accurately or even blacking out vivid memories.

And If You Smell Cucumbers . . .

While some of my vivid copperhead snake memories may be difficult to remember in 2020, I do recall with specificity the sage advice my mom repeatedly imparted upon me when venturing into the expanse of Watoga’s 10,000 acres of pristine beauty.

“Johnny, if  you smell cucumbers, it means there is a copperhead nearby, and you need to run!” And run I do – even to this day!

P.S. While I do have an intense fear of all snakes, it never has and never will stop me from enjoying my favorite place in the World — Watoga State Park!

"We are the Copperheads -- the mighty, mighty Copperheads" This copperhead twists its way around and around a basketball. | 📸: @Marlinton Middle School Facebook Page, 01.27.2019
“We are the Copperheads — the mighty, mighty Copperheads.” This copperhead twists its way around and around a basketball. | 📸: @Marlinton Middle School Facebook Page, 01.27.2019

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.

Opening a Can of Black Snakes at Watoga — Hiss!

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

Profile of the head of a black snake, Durham County, North Carolina. | 📸: Patrick Coin
Profile of the head of a black snake, Durham County, North Carolina. | 📸: Patrick Coin

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.


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

A curling black snake on a fall day at Cacapon State Park, Berkeley Springs, West Viriginia. | 📸: @clark.stan
A curling black snake on a fall day at Cacapon State Park, Berkeley Springs, West Viriginia. | 📸: @clark.stan

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

The Black Bear Story at Watoga — Creative Endings

Large black bear turns the corner of Cabin 12 at Watoga State Park near Marlinton, West Virginia in June 2014. The black bear is West Virginia's state animal. Photo by Stanley Clark.
Black bear meandering the corner near Cabin 12 at Watoga. | 📸: @clark.stan

Ever eat a peanut butter sandwich right before coming face-to-face with a black bear? And how about seeing a bear with Paul McCartney eyes? With this in mind, the following are readers’ creative endings to earlier posts (Part 1 and Part 2) about the black bear at Watoga State Park.

Peanut Butter Sammie, Anyone?

The black bear lifts his head, moving his snout inches from my face. Now, I feel his breath as he sniffs and snorts. Lastly, I did not consider the peanut butter sandwich I had recently eaten.

— David Bott

The Bear with Paul McCartney Eyes

There I stood with my feet frozen to the ground like I was standing in water and Lake Watoga froze right around them. Of course, I didn’t try to break free and run; instead, I relax to go with the flow.

The first thing I notice are this bear’s eyes. While he’s standing on his hind legs and looking right at me, I am so close to him that my nose is hardly a foot from his. I can smell his hot bear-breath. Up this close, his eyes seem larger than normal, and there is a distant light behind the brown color. Keep in mind that these aren’t the vacuous eyes of a wild animal. And this mammal’s eyes are windows to something I cannot put a word on. Simultaneous love and sadness? Something like that.

Meanwhile, there the four of us stood — for how long I don’t know. Be that as it may, you may think that the woods are a quiet place where you can hear a pin drop. News flash! What’s more, the Watoga woods are not as quiet as you’d expect if you’re from the city. In short, birds are tweeting, insects are chirping, flies are buzzing, woodpeckers are pecking, and there are a thousand other members of the forest’s orchestra.

A September afternoon in the woods is anything but quiet. And that’s something else I remember very clearly about this moment. Not only are we mesmerized by this bear with Paul McCartney eyes, but we also cannot hear any of the noises we have come to expect.

Nothing. In fact, if you’ve heard the expression “deafening silence,” this was it.

That is up until the bear says, “Follow me.”

— Ernie Zore

And the Moral of the Story is . . .

I notice the biggest black bear I have ever seen climb up and into the bed of Henry Burr’s maintenance truck.

Moreover, this huge animal is having himself a big ole feast, ripping into a number of trash bags that Henry had thrown into the park vehicle earlier from the campsites at Beaver Creek Campground.

After discovering this mess later that same day, Vernon says: “Ok, Johnny and Ronnie. The lesson in this is to never put off ’til tomorrow what you could’ve done today. Particularly, Mr. Burr is gonna have a mess to clean up in the mornin’.

— Brenda Waugh

All You Need is a Little Love

Nestling with the sow bear and her cub is a fawn. Apparently, the fawn has lost its mother. This gentle giant has adopted the fawn as her own.

Many times, through the years, I would see a black bear playing in the woods with a deer. Surprisingly, they were not fighting; just playing, chasing and enjoying the special bond they developed as babies.

I will never forget their special friendship. Undoubtedly, it taught me to always be understanding of individuals no matter their background.

With this in mind, don’t we all need a little love?

— Donna Dilley

Drawing of black bear killed near Watoga, circa 1970; L-R: Ronnie, Johnny and Vernon Dean. Artistic impression by Debra Lynn Kimball.
Drawing of black bear killed near Watoga, circa 1970; L-R: Ronnie, Johnny and Vernon Dean. Artistic impression by Debra Lynn Kimball.


In conclusion, while researching the untold aspects of the black bear, I came across an interesting paragraph in The Pocahontas Times. Significantly, was this the animal killed at Watoga almost 50 years ago? Maybe it was.

Fifty Years Ago … The Pocahontas Times

Thursday, January 8, 1970


George Schoolcraft saw a large bear track on Pyles Mountain. He reported it to A. G. Dean. The bear traveled to Beaver Creek – from Beaver Creek into Burr Valley, bedded down on Briery Knob. The next day Eldridge McComb heard his dog barking and went to investigate. The dog had the bear in a large fallen tree. They returned to W. S. Smith’s for information about shooting bears. When they returned, the bear and dog were gone – heading for Anthonys Creek.

Mister Good Wrench of Watoga

Mechanical Milieu

Probably the best advice that was ever given to me by an uncle who freely dispensed advice, much of it unsolicited, was to be good to your mechanic. He was spot on; if you are fortunate enough to find a competent and trustworthy person to entrust the health of your car to, it pays to show your appreciation. We appreciate Mister Good Wrench of Watoga.

Even more so because, like many professions, this one is fraught with unscrupulous operators – but not here in Pocahontas County of course.

Car Talk was a radio show about auto repairs that ran for 35 years on National Public Radio. It was hosted by brothers, Tom and Ray Magliozzi also called “Click and Clack, the Tappet Brothers.” The two actually ran an auto repair shop in Boston’s Harvard Square.

People would call into the show with their car troubles and Click and Clack would diagnose the problem with a great deal of hilarity. I never missed a show in all those years for two reasons; yes, they were funny, very funny. But the show explored every possible problem you might encounter with a vehicle – so it was also very practical.

Gone are the days when you could pick up a distributor cap, a set of points and spark plugs at the NAPA store and do your own tune-up. Today’s auto mechanic must be skilled in technical diagnostics and computerized systems, in addition to being handy with a torque wrench.

Car Talk made me realize that a good mechanic has to have a lot of smarts and must think like a detective. A problem with a vehicle may be caused by a multitude of things and the right questions must be asked to pinpoint the actual cause of the problem. Computerized diagnostics also help, but you have to have the skills to operate this technology.

Meet Mister Good Wrench of Watoga

Watoga State Park got a good deal when they hired Arthur Sharp to maintain the fleet of trucks, backhoes, grader, mowers, and chainsaws necessary to keep the park running smoothly.

Arthur Sharp, Mr Goodwrench of Watoga State Park

Arthur, a native of Pocahontas County, came to the job with skills learned as a diesel mechanic for the West Virginia National Guard.

He attended the twelve-week school at Fort Jackson, South Carolina where he graduated an “all wheels” mechanic.

In fact, Arthur wears a lot of hats. In addition to being a full-time mechanic at the park, he is active in the West Virginia National Guard, operates a farm

and is the fire chief at Cass. It tired me out just writing that paragraph.

Where does a guy that busy find time to marry his wife Kristine and produce three great kids; Noah, Evan, and 8-month old Hope? Arthur manages it by taking care of the farm work in the evening when he can also be there with his family.

When visitors return to Watoga State Park this season they will find the Riverside Campground boasting many improvements. Backhoes and graders have been in the campground all winter pulling ditches, putting in new drainage systems, and resurfacing many of the campsites.

In other areas of the park, employees have been preemptively cutting down trees that pose a falling hazard to nearby buildings. The half-dozen mowers required to keep the grass down throughout the park, have been repaired and are awaiting use this spring.

It is Arthur who keeps all of this equipment running.

Part of the goal of the Watoga Trail Report is to make the public aware of how their park is being maintained and cared for. In doing so it is necessary to point out the many dedicated park employees, like Arthur Sharp, Mr Good Wrench of Watoga, who strive each day to make your visit a memorable one.

Other Park News

In a previous dispatch, we talked about the restoration and upgrades being made to many of the cabins. It was mentioned that the money for this project comes from the sale of government bonds and Watoga State Park was the recipient of this windfall.

Work on the cabins has been going on for about two years now, resulting in new decks, remodeled kitchens and bathrooms, and new furniture.

I have been stopping in from time to time to observe the progress, taking photographs and talking with the many skilled workers involved.

One thing became instantly clear to me; this influx of money for the cabins not only benefits the visitors to the park but, for the most part, those dollars are staying right here in Pocahontas County.

As much of the building material as possible is purchased locally. Additionally, the project is also bringing work to local contractors like Stuart Horner of JB Builders and David Smith of Marlinton-based Dream Builders. They, in turn, hire labor so the overall benefits extend well outside the park.

Stuart Horner, JB Builders and David Smith, Dream Builders

Pine Run Cabin Renovations

A recent visit to a couple of the cabins in the Pine Run Cabin Area, found employees refinishing the chestnut floors. It was a great opportunity to see side by side cabins in different stages of removal of the old floor finish.

Keeping in mind that these particular cabins were built over 80 years ago, to get to the original wood surface required sanding through many layers of polyurethane or varnish. How many? No one really knows but it looked to me like the workers were going through a lot of sandpaper.

Arthur showed me a cabin in which the finishing was completed. There was yellow tape across the door like you would see at a crime scene. We only peeked through the open door but the finished floor was dazzling.

Interior of rehabbed cabin on Pine Run, Watoga State Park

Imagine all of the park visitors who strode those floors for over eight decades. Also, imagine what it cost to rent that cabin back in 1937? It turns out that it was $30 per week for a six-person cabin.

It may sound inexpensive, but keep in mind that in 1937, during the Great Depression, the average annual wage was only $1780. The cost of a gallon of gasoline was 10 cents and a loaf of bread was 9 cents.

The average annual wage in the U.S. today is approximately $48,672 and the rate for that same six-person cabin today is $953 per week.

A quick calculation reveals that in 1937 it required 1.6% of your annual wages to rent a cabin at Watoga for you and your family and friends for a week. Today renting that same cabin accounts for 1.9% of your annual wages, not that much difference. So in truth, you are paying just about the same today as you would have in 1937.

Watoga State Park has only raised the cost of renting its cabins attendant with rising salaries throughout the years. It is still a good bargain to rent a cabin and enjoy all of the other amenities and activities found within the park and around Pocahontas County.

From the mountain trails of Watoga,