The Almost-Ghost Town of Thurmond, West Virginia

Every year, I drive through West Virginia on my home to visit family in Kentucky for the holidays. I always look forward to the journey, both for the swooping, mist-laden hills that rise around me on I-64 and for the warm comforts of Biscuit World and Chocolate Moose Coffee at my Beckley stopover. West Virginia holds a particular fascination for someone who dwells near a big city, with its rough history of coal mining towns and strikes, the spectral legends of its mountains, and its Appalachian bluegrass musical tradition.

In previous years, I'd toured the Beckley Exhibition Coal Mine, puttered around Hinton, and admired the Grandview Overlook of New River Gorge. This time, I had a few hours to kill before I left Beckley to head back to Alexandria, Virginia. A pamphlet I'd picked up at the highway Welcome Center alluded mysteriously to the "near-ghost town" of Thurmond, about 20 miles north of Beckley. As someone who can't resist the lure of an old and potentially abandoned site, I knew I had my morning itinerary set.

The former railroad boomtown of Thurmond, West Virginia, now has only five residents.

The only trouble was, it was about 15 degrees out. In my old Nissan Sentra, going down what I imagined might be bumpy roads into a very rural area, I was a bit nervous about what I would do if something happened to my car miles from the nearest highway.

Following Thurmond Road along Dunloup Creek to the old railroad town.

Fortunately, Thurmond Road is a well-kept, one-lane highway easily found off Route 19, and it follows Dunloup Creek for much of the way. Ice had formed in irregular halos around the rocks in the creek, and curtains of icicles hung from the cliffs on the other side of the road. It was quite a pretty drive.

A construction warning sign greeted me as I reached Thurmond—I had chosen to visit one day before the bridge was closed for work. As it was, construction was actively being done on the railroad side of the bridge, but cars were still allowed to pass along the road portion. My car was the only one I saw anywhere in the vicinity, besides the trucks belonging to the construction crew. 

I pulled up in front of the Thurmond Depot, a 1904 structure that serves as a visitors center (closed that day, alas) and a functioning rail station for Amtrak passenger trains. There was also signage about the town's history and a brochure and map showing the current and former landmarks of the depot and town. It was bitterly cold, but I would have to walk to view the historic buildings along the railroad tracks. So I bundled up and left the warmth of my car.

Three structures remain of the early 20th century main street: the Mankin-Cox building, the Goodwin-Kincaid building, and the Bank of Thurmond. The Lafayette Hotel burned in 1963. The coaling station and the commissary also remain. In the bright sunlight, nothing seemed spooky, and the buildings were in relatively good condition.

Most of the town of Thurmond, which only has five residents, is now a National Park Service property, and has informational placards for visitor context and is kept tidy. It's not a truly abandoned site. All of those five residents are civically active— and, incidentally, voted in 2015 to ban discrimination against LGBT individuals, making the town the smallest in the nation to pass such an anti-discrimination measure unanimously.) 

A view of the old buildings from across the railroad tracks, near where the engine house once stood.

As Park Service signs convey, the town's quick rise and fall in the 20th century were tied to the growth and decline of the coal and timber industries in the New River Gorge. In 1910, for instance, Thurmond's C&O Railroad operation brought in more freight revenue than Cincinnati and Richmond together—and that's not counting the thousands of passengers going through town.

The biting wind kept me from spending too much time exploring, but picking my way along the still-active railroad tracks to take photos of the area made me want to return in a warmer part of the year for more investigation.

You can also visit the overgrown remains of former coal towns nearby, if you are willing to hike a bit. 

The old coaling station used to service thousands of trains a year.

It's worth it to go off the beaten path in any state, but in West Virginia, you don't have to go far off the interstate to find history, nestled as it is in those trademark mountains. The New River, too feisty that day to form ice, tumbled by below the railroad bridge, reflecting sharp points of sunlight. On a regular day, with no construction, it was easy to believe you'd hear little but the river's rush and the wind coming down the railroad tracks. Maybe even a ghost or two.