Tom Moses’ Trips – West Virginia, 1885
“The eccentric antics of [Henry C.] Tryon seemed to amuse the natives. He very seldom had breakfast with [John H.] Young and me; we would usually be out sketching an hour before he showed up. We found one fine place not more than a quarter of a mile from the store, across the river, which, at this point, was very narrow and awfully swift.
We had a small boat which we used in crossing this turbulent stream, and we had to be very careful to avoid being dashed to pieces against the big rocks. By going upstream some distance we could ford across, and Young, with his long legs could jump across from rock to rock, but he preferred the boat.
On the other side we found all kinds of sketches. At this point a small stream led the way to the good sketching grounds through a forest of immense trees, the finest I had ever seen. Great dark hemlocks, dainty birch, smooth and graceful beech, the wide-spreading, big-leafed chestnut, the sturdy and picturesque old oak, with its wealth of dark brown intermingled with birch and beech coloring, made a riot of color, enough to turn one’s head. I wondered if I had enough color in my paint box even to attempt it; whether I had the ability to do it after I had found the color and the motif.
In exploring the depths of this vast wilderness we saw no sign that would indicate that man had ever passed that way before, lay in gigantic round furrows of deep moss. A mass of fluted lichen, grey and cold, mixed with bronze and purple, made a background for tiny ferns that nodded while we passed. Very few songbirds had found their way into this oppressive solitude.
There was none of the hum of life that is usually heard in the woods near a village. The absolute stillness was very strange and convinced us that we were alone, especially at the noon hour. Nature, alone, dwelt here, and kept silence; there seemed to be something savage in her mood when we came upon her unawares, and we felt that we were not welcome. We could very often feel the ice under our feet when creeping through some thicket where the sun never penetrates the dense foliage; here the moss and leaves are deepest.
Monstrous fungus growths reared themselves on every side. As we pushed on and up the underbrush grew more dense; red and black spiders swung themselves incessantly across our faces from tree to tree. We found traces of bear on newly barked trees – also deer marks, but we did not happen to surprise them nor did they worry us. We broke off several larges specimens of fungus, quite a variety of color and size.
The thicket of laurel and scrub-oak on the banks afforded shelter for all kinds of wild animals. We made several sketches, in tempera color, of this dense forest. The many cascades in the small brook were an endless source of delight, the last always far superior to the preceding one. A bit of luncheon, which we carried, and a cool, refreshing drink from the brook soon put us in shape for another sketch and the laborious trip down the creek to the river and across to Schell.”
To be continued…
