Still Searching the Hollow

Tom and I have taken several long hikes through Peters Hollow in search of the Peters-McDavid Cemetery, where Francisco Peters and his wife, Margaret Lane, are buried. We haven't found it yet. We've come to the conclusion that we won't find it until we have discovered everything else we're supposed to discover in the hollow. Every time we go there, we find something new....well, actually old, but you know what I mean.

This time we took the low road instead of the high road, and I know that won't mean anything at all to most of you. Suffice to say, instead of heading straight up toward Uncle John Peters' old house at the top, we struck off to our left and headed down toward Copper Creek. We got there eventually, but there was lots to see along the way. The first thing we came across was this enormous barn. Most of the barns we've found are in surprisingly good shape considering their age and lack of maintenance. This one was sided in tin, which was unusual, but has certainly helped to preserve it.

The folks here learned early on, I guess, to work with the land. There is very little flat land and most of the houses and barns are built on slopes. If you enter a barn on the uphill side, it's one story, while the other end of the barn may very well be two stories. The huge rocks embedded in the earth form part of the foundation, and smaller stones are set in for additional support. These rock foundations may also be part of the reason these old barns still stand. This barn in Peters Hollow had some treasures in it, among them this old stove. The legs have been removed, but most of the pieces are still there, and I am trying to figure out how to haul it out. I can just see it blackleaded, with a red geranium in an old pot sitting on it. Can't you?

This sled was in pretty good shape. Barbara and I were told once by Glen Gilliam that his mother's coffin was hauled down to Copper Creek, which was frozen over, and pulled on a sled like this to take it to the church. It was brought back the same way. Might it have been this very sled? Glen Gilliam helped to build this barn, so it's just possible.

Here's Tom standing in the downhill portion of this barn to give you an idea of it's size. It was huge. Lots of tobacco sticks were still stacked inside, waiting for a crop that won't come.

This wagon was not in as good shape as the sled, but it was interesting to see. Though the wheels were gone, Tom was fascinated by the brakes - just blocks of wood activated by the handle you can see on the left.

I'm always fascinated by these old chimneys, still standing where houses are long gone. This one we believe was once the hearth of the Lewis Gilliam home. He was a half brother to Daniel Gilliam who married Lousia Peters, the sister of William Patton Peters, my great-grandfather. Two of Lewis' children married siblings of Polly Pendleton, my great-grandmother, so the folks who once sat by this fireplace are related to me several ways.

This picture shows the marks where the stone was worked before being put into place. Imagine the hours of work this took.

This chimney has a hearth on both sides, so it would have been a central fireplace with rooms on both sides of it. We did find some of the foundation stones where the house or perhaps a porch once stood.

We made this walk in early March. In July you'd never even see this barn or chimney or the little house below, because they would all be covered in kudzu. All of these vines will soon be sprouting the huge, smothering leaves of the kudzu. We're going to have to go back, at least part way, just to see what this place looks like. Even in winter, it's like something from another world. And just a little bit scary.

I talked to Roy Peters and Glen Gilliam about this small three-room house. They both called it the Bayard Pendleton house. I pulled some census records, and I believe it goes back at least one generation further. Cora Gilliam, the daughter of Daniel and Lousia, married James Monroe Pendleton, brother of Polly, and I think they might have been living here in 1920 with Bayard and four other children.

The fireplace is still in pretty good shape, though a few bricks have fallen. A closet is to the left, and a small cupboard was to the right. For some reason, I have it in my mind that they kept their Bible there, near to Father's chair, where he would sit and read to them in the evening.

These old homes are always near a spring so water for the family's use didn't have to be hauled too far. Though on a frigid February day, I'm sure it felt far enough for the child whose job it was.

When Tom and I made this walk, we'd had lots of rain, and the spring joined a branch coming down the mountain and made a series of little waterfalls. It was breathtakingly beautiful, and the only people to see it, we two.

The closer we got to the creek, the steeper the incline, and the more dramatic the waterfalls became.

On this day, we walked in at the gooseneck, and came out on the south side of Copper Creek not far from the swinging bridge. We had a nice long walk along the creek to get back to the new bridge, and I was worn out. Tom, my angel, hiked back to the Jeep, while I sat and took pictures at the dam. The water was flowing lovely and swift, and not nearly as cold as it looks in this picture.

I sat and thought about the hard life our ancestors endured to live in this beautiful place. I'm so grateful they persevered, so that we may be here now.