Day 3 at Little Beaver: Coal Mines, Waze, and Another Challenge to the RV Gods

Day 3 at Little Beaver started the way most mornings do at Camp Weeble—with Sophie acting as the official alarm clock.

Her alarm tone is a very dainty little whine.

This, of course, wakes up Buster and Pennie. We try to ignore the Sophie alarm, but unfortunately, Sophie was not equipped with a snooze button.

Eventually, Mrs. Weeble gives in and starts the morning routine. She hooks up the dogs, then goes back inside to get the girls’ pills ready and fill the food bowls. By this point, she usually has six little eyes staring through the Weeblemobile door, closely monitoring her progress.

Once breakfast has been served to the canine residents of Camp Weeble, Mrs. Weeble moves on to the most important part of her morning—a cup of coffee.

She puts a K-Cup in the coffee maker, fills the water reservoir, pushes the button, and waits for her morning elixir of calm to appear. Then she settles into a chair with her iPad and enjoys the morning.

Eventually, I get up.

Now, you would think that being on a camping trip, I would immediately fire up the Blackstone.

You would be wrong.

I fired up the microwave.

Having electricity is wonderful.

I made us breakfast burritos.

I know what you’re thinking.

Breakfast burritos from the microwave while camping?

They’re getting soft.

Well…maybe.

But I had cooked sausage and eggs on the Blackstone the morning before, so we haven’t gone completely soft yet.

While we were eating, we decided to head into Beckley, West Virginia, and take a tour of the Exhibition Coal Mine. I had taken a coal mine tour many years ago with my kids and thought Mrs. Weeble might enjoy it.

Unlike our trip to Blackwater Falls, we didn’t bring a car with us this time, which meant the Weeblemobile itself was going sightseeing.

That also meant we had to get Camp Weeble ready to move.

The good news is that we’re getting faster at this.

We don’t completely tear down the campsite anymore. We just disconnect the things that would cause serious problems if we tried to drive away with them still attached.

Electric is easy.

Water is another story.

I use one of those collapsible water hoses with quick-connect fittings. The problem is that even after you turn the water off, the hose somehow retains enough pressure to soak whoever disconnects it.

I’ve tried having Mrs. Weeble run water inside the Weeblemobile for a minute or so to relieve the pressure.

In theory, this should work.

In practice, the hose apparently laughs at theory.

Even collapsed, it still seems to have just enough pressure left inside to fire a small burst of water directly at you.

I have discovered the secret.

When you release the quick-connect fitting, stand slightly off to the side.

If you do that, you won’t get wet.

Don’t ask how I learned this.

Experience is a wonderful teacher.

After that, we grabbed the Starlink, removed the windshield bra—which covers the windshield so we don’t need a curtain—and slid the table holding the Blackstone away from the Weeblemobile.

We were ready to roll.

We stopped at the dump station on the way out and dumped the tanks.

Sorry. No story there.

We’ve actually gotten pretty good at it.

And I realize that by typing those words, I have probably just challenged the RV gods.

The road leaving Little Beaver State Park is pretty good.

Then you hit the main road.

The speed limit says 40 mph.

That is adorable.

I’m not sure a perfectly tuned Formula One car could do 40 on parts of that road without losing a mirror, a fender, or its will to live.

The Weeblemobile climbed along at about 15 mph, turning left, right, left, right, and occasionally giving me the impression that we were driving through a giant slalom course.

I’m sure the cars behind us were enjoying the scenic tour.

Eventually, a second lane appeared.

I could almost hear the celebration behind us.

Cars started going around, and I imagined at least one driver waving goodbye with tears of joy in their eyes.

Once we got onto the interstate, things settled down.

We put the Exhibition Coal Mine into Waze, and the route looked simple enough.

Mostly interstate.

A couple of turns.

What could possibly go wrong?

Yes, I know.

I should know better than to even think that.

One thing I’ve learned from driving the Weeblemobile is that GPS directions are more like suggestions.

Waze doesn’t know we’re driving something 11 feet 9 inches tall.

Waze doesn’t care.

Waze sees a road and thinks, “Sure, that’ll work.”

Captain Weeble sees the same road and thinks, “Not today.”

We drove about 20 miles down the interstate and got off onto the main road in Beckley.

So far, so good.

Then Waze told us to turn.

There was even a sign pointing toward the Exhibition Coal Mine.

Excellent.

For one brief, shining moment, I thought this might actually be easy.

Then we reached the top of a hill.

Waze said, “Turn right.”

I looked right.

The road looked a little narrow.

Actually, let me correct that.

The road looked like someplace you’d take a Subaru.

Not the Weeblemobile.

I looked at Mrs. Weeble.

“I don’t think so.”

So we went straight.

Waze did not appreciate this.

It immediately went into rerouting mode and apparently decided its new mission was to see if it could squeeze the Weeblemobile through every residential street in Beckley.

Turn right.

Nope.

Turn left.

Nope.

Take the next—

Absolutely not.

After a while, I found a road that looked wide enough to have been built for actual vehicles.

I turned onto it.

Waze seemed pleased.

We had apparently repaired our relationship.

A few minutes later, we came around a curve and I saw a railroad bridge ahead.

It looked low.

Now, when you’re driving an RV that’s 11 feet 9 inches tall, “it looks low” gets your attention pretty quickly.

I couldn’t see a height sign yet, but I wasn’t interested in getting close enough to read one through the new skylight we’d create in the Weeblemobile.

Waze wanted us to turn left somewhere near the bridge.

The only problem was that I couldn’t tell whether that meant before the bridge or after it.

I decided not to participate in that particular game.

We took the next road that headed in roughly the right direction and started climbing another hill.

At the top, Waze announced that we had arrived.

We pulled into a park.

A nice park.

A perfectly lovely park.

It just had one small problem.

There was no coal mine.

We drove through the parking lot looking for some clue as to where Waze had actually brought us.

Near a pavilion, a group of people stood in a circle.

Mrs. Weeble looked over and said, “I wonder what they’re doing?”

I said, “Hopefully they’re praying we get out of here and find the coal mine.”

Apparently, they were very good at it.

One block later, we finally spotted a sign:

TURN HERE FOR THE COAL MINE.

At last.

We parked the Weeblemobile and headed inside.

Waze had gotten us there.

Eventually.

Which, in the world of Captain Weeble, counts as successful navigation.

At the admissions desk, the lady asked if I had ever served in the military.

I told her no, but that we were seniors.

We bought our tickets and walked toward the mine, where there was a small display of mining artifacts.

Mrs. Weeble looked everything over and started talking with the guide who would be taking us underground.

Before long, a little electric mine train came rolling up, and the passengers from the previous tour climbed out.

Then we were told to climb aboard.

Let me describe this train car.

It was maybe 15 feet long, about four feet wide, rather low, with a seat running down the middle.

I started lowering myself onto the seat.

About halfway down, my body reminded me that I have two artificial knees.

By the time I reached the seat, both knees had reached approximately 100 percent of their available folding capability.

I immediately shifted sideways to take some of the pressure off.

Apparently, coal mine transportation was not designed with replacement knees in mind.

Our guide started the train and took us underground.

As we traveled through the mine, he explained what life had been like for the miners.

In the early days, miners worked with pickaxes and were expected to dig out around ten tons of coal a day.

For those ten tons, they were paid just 29 cents.

And if they didn’t produce enough coal, they didn’t get paid.

The guide also told us something that really showed just how hard life could be for mining families.

If a miner was killed in a mine accident, his family was given a choice.

If they had a child who was 12 years old or older, that child could go down into the mine and take his father’s place working.

If there wasn’t a child old enough to work, the family had three days to move out of their company house.

That one was hard to imagine.

He showed us places where miners had to work on their knees because the coal seam was so low.

Suddenly, my little struggle getting onto the train didn’t seem quite so bad.

He also showed us the different kinds of lights miners used over the years.

He explained that every miner carried two lights.

Then he asked us why.

A moment later, he demonstrated.

He turned off the mine lights.

It was dark.

Not nighttime dark.

Not campground-at-midnight dark.

Dark.

I can honestly say you could not see your hand in front of your face.

About that time, I felt Mrs. Weeble grab my arm.

“I don’t like it this dark.”

Can’t say I blamed her.

The guide turned the lights back on and continued explaining how mining machinery and techniques changed through the years.

All in all, the tour was very interesting, and we were glad we went.

Thankfully, the trip back to Camp Weeble was much easier than the trip to the mine.

Apparently, Waze had gotten whatever nonsense it had planned for us out of its system.

We got back to the campsite, fixed dinner, and settled in for the evening.

I had the firewood stacked and ready to light.

Naturally, that’s when it started raining.

And once it started, it rained for the rest of the night.

So much for the campfire.

The next morning, we packed everything up and got ready to head home.

Since the rain had ruined our fire plans, I left two bundles of firewood behind.

Hopefully, the next camper who pulled into our site appreciated the unexpected donation to their campfire fund.

The drive home was completely uneventful.

Which, considering this was a Captain Weeble trip, might have been the biggest surprise of the whole weekend.

Of course, we did make one important stop.

Buc-ee’s.

Or, as we like to call it…

Disneyland.

We love that place.