Publication: THE SUNDAY GAZETTE
Published: 05/29/2005
Page: 1B
Headline: YOUTH SUMMIT HIKING, CAMPING AT THE MOUNTAIN INSTITUTE TEACHES CHILDREN ABOUT HOME-STATE WONDERS
Byline: TARA TUCKWILLER

tara@wvgazette.com

SPRUCE KNOB - If the dawn light streaming through the smoke hole in the top of your yurt doesn't get you, the melody of abundant songbirds will. There's no sleeping late at The Mountain Institute.

But for the Elkins fifth-graders who camped at TMI during a recent school week, sleeping late wasn't an option. In this wilderness, an 11-year-old never knows when a chance might pop up to test his or her physical abilities, connect quietly with nature, or bond with classmates - all before breakfast.

"Salamander eggs," one boy announced proudly, his cupped hands full of lumpy, translucent goo. "I found them down there in that little creek." He showed off his prize to one of the female chaperones as his classmates, who had been waiting for their breakfast at long outdoor tables, forgot about food and raced down the pasture hill toward the pond.

"Ew, Cody," she wrinkled her nose. "You guys are gross."

Cody just grinned. "Well," he replied, "your daughter's down there picking 'em up, too."

Brent Bailey, director of TMI's Appalachian Program, was in one of the yurts (round Mongolian-style structures) flipping pancakes. He explained why The Mountain Institute, an organization with facilities in the Andes and Himalayas, is interested in hosting field trips for West Virginia youngsters.

"It's a way to get kids interested in the outdoors," he said simply. "Kids used to get an appreciation for the mountains by hunting and fishing with their parents, but even hunting and fishing are on the decline."

TMI, founded 33 years ago here on Spruce Knob, has always sought to preserve mountain environments and promote mountain cultures. In Appalachia, part of that is teaching children about their own home.

"We live in the mountains," said Bob Jones, the Elkins group's teacher, "but the kids don't go to the mountains. I think because we live in them, we take them for granted. For a fun time, they want to go to the beach."

Jones has been bringing his North Elementary classes here for five years. The students put on fundraisers to pay their way.

His isn't the only school to participate, but often, groups come from Philadelphia or Washington, D.C. - not West Virginia.

"I don't think a lot of teachers realize what goes on up here," Jones said.

Sneaking lessons in with the fun

The "breakfast bell" - an old-fashioned dinner bell - clanged at 7:30 a.m. sharp.

"Not yet," one of the kids exclaimed. "We've got to do circle."

Hurriedly, the campers joined hands in a circle at the kitchen door. One of their counselors, a young woman dressed in hiking clothes, led them in a discussion of what they'd learned the day before.

That day, they'd hiked up Spruce Knob, recognized as the highest point in West Virginia (TMI is located on the upper slope of the mountain).

"They teach the kids how to use a compass," Jones explained. The class broke into small groups, each with a grownup, to orienteer their way to the summit. "The kids lead the way," Jones said, "and if you're a mile off when you get to the top of the mountain, you're a mile off."

Counselors at TMI sneak lessons in amongst the fun - a little science here, a little social studies there. "At the top of Spruce Knob, we told them that the runoff from here flows into Chesapeake Bay," Bailey said. "They thought that was cool."

So, how was the hike?

"Uh, cold," said Jacob Johnston.

"Muddy," added Lukas Letan.

"Awesome," said Matthew Hewitt.

After gobbling plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon, the campers lined up to wash dishes. TMI is about preserving the mountains, after all, so "no paper plates here," Bailey said with a smile.

Each kid washed his or her own plate in a bin of hot water - made sudsy by plant-based dish liquid - with no complaints. But only after scraping leftovers into the compost bin, of course. What can't be reused at TMI is recycled. And what can't be recycled ...

"Eight o'clock," one of the counselors announced. "Time to feed the pig."

Bootleggers and bank robbers

Finally, it was time to pile into cars. Today's lesson: A spelunking expedition to the Sinks of Gandy.

Few people visit the Sinks - even these kids, who grew up not 20 miles away as the crow flies - simply because they are remote and difficult to find. The Sinks are a unique geological phenomenon, in which picturesque Gandy Creek disappears suddenly into the earth. It slips into a cave, formed over millions of years by water dissolving limestone.

The carpool zigzagged over miles of gravel forest-service roads.

"We've got staff in Kathmandu, Nepal, and the mountains of Peru," Bailey said. "But Dave and Matt" - two TMI program coordinators who live on Spruce Knob year-round - "are probably some of the most isolated staff we have."

At the roadside, before hiking down the mountain to Gandy Creek, counselor Katie Maloney explained a little bit about caves: why they stay a constant temperature, why one shouldn't shine one's flashlight directly on a sleeping bat, why everybody had to put on a helmet.

"This area of the brain right here" - she tapped her forehead - "is what controls your personality. Now, there can be some really low places in caves. So if you hit your head, which part are you going to hit?"

"We look like coal miners," one boy observed.

On the way down the hill, the students walked near Maloney to hear about the caves so characteristic of their mountains.

"You know," she said, "in Prohibition, people used to make moonshine in caves all the time. There was a bootlegger, a man named Warren. When the police came after him, he escaped into the caves, because he knew them so well. His still was on TMI property.

"There's an area in this cave we're going to called Robber's Roost, because bank robbers would hide there."

The students had to duck to slip through the dripping cave entrance, but soon they found themselves in a big underground room. Counselor Amy Voiland had them turn off their flashlights, explaining that this would help their eyes adjust to the darkness.

During the Civil War, both sides used the caves at the Sinks of Gandy as a hospital, she said. "Germs aren't spread here very easily because it's pretty cold," she explained. "Like your refrigerator." Everybody climbed over a little rise and into a smaller room. "This," Voiland whispered spookily, "is what used to be the morgue of the hospital."

Soon, flashlights on, the kids were exploring every cranny of the cave, following Voiland's instructions not to touch the delicate ceiling or climb on the rock formations. For the grand finale, Voiland pointed out a "wormhole" - a 20-foot tunnel carved through solid rock, again by millions of years of dissolving water.

Although the tunnel's entrance appeared to be about the size of a house cat, Voiland explained to the kids that they could wiggle themselves through if they did it calmly and patiently. Maddie Basil was the first one through.

"It's really hard, Megan," she told one of her friends as she emerged from the tiny crevice, "but you can do it."

Soon, the entire class was cheering each other on, chanting each other's names and exclaiming "good job!" - hushed, of course, so as not to disturb the bats.

Team unity is one of the lessons students tend to learn at The Mountain Institute. For example, Jones said, take the strenuous climb to the summit of Spruce Knob.

"It was tough," Jones said. "There were times when you'd think a kid wasn't going to make it, but everybody would just encourage them on.

"I had one kid come up to me and say, 'I almost cried when I got to the top,'" Jones said. "I asked him why. He said, 'Cause I made it. I'm proud of myself.'"

To contact staff writer Tara Tuckwiller, use e-mail or call 348-5189.