Devotion in a Forsaken Land

Today I biked from Allentown, Pa. to Byrnesville, Pa., a distance of about 55 miles. Normally, that wouldn’t be a big deal, and would take me about six hours. I gave myself eight, expecting to bike for seven and have an hour break. Big mistake.

The hills were insane. It took me nine hours to get to Byrnesville, which made me two hours late to see Mike Reilley, who I’d promised to meet. I felt terrible about it. But Mike had work to do, so my being late forced him to finish it, so it wasn’t so bad.

You see, Mike and his brother Jim are all that’s left of the town, which was demolished in the 1990s due to the dangerous conditions caused by an underground coal mine fire which started in nearby Centralia in 1962. While there still remain a few houses in Centralia, almost nothing is left of Byrnesville, which was a coal mining village of about 28 homes. This is an old postcard of the town supplied by Mike:

And this is the town now:

The only thing that remains is a shrine to the Virgin Mary that Mike’s father dreamt up. The whole family built it when Mike was 15 (he’s now 72). If you’ll notice, the sides are made of old bathtubs, which I thought was a cute touch:

About twice a week, Mike and his brother come to take care of the shrine, trimming the shrubs, mowing the lawn, and worshipping. It has become the outlet for his Catholic faith, as he rarely goes to church anymore. In town lore, a lot of people said they received favors from God by praying at this shrine, and Mike says the fact his father lived to the age of 90 with “miner’s asthma” might be an example of this.

Mike lived in Byrnesville for almost 50 years before he evacuated due to loss of electricity, water, and the danger of carbon monoxide from the fires. He misses it deeply, and maintains a site to remind people of the town’s history. But he comes back to remind himself of a town where his whole family lived, his parents, brothers, sisters, and all their children. Now, many of them have spread out.

“There were blueberries all over the place, blackberries, huckleberries, and we’d go out in the woods all the time,” he says. “The coal mines were actually a nuisance, they’d be digging for coal, with big shovels, dirt, and lots of noise. But it was also entertainment. We’d be sitting there, watching the trucks go by, with all the lights on at night.”

I can’t imagine going back to my hometown and having it gone. Sure, places change all the time, but they’re always still there. But Byrnesville is just abandoned fields and cemeteries, which must be very disheartening. And the shrine, which used to be a local religious pilgrimage site, is now a stopping point for a different type of pilgrim: the tourist of destruction.

Thousands of tourists come through Centralia every year to see smoke shooting up from the ground, the torn-up land, and the abandoned plots. And, says Mike, they take everything they can get their hand on as a souvenir, to the point where the last few residents have had to make their own street signs to replace ones that were lifted.

Tourists coming through often see and stop at the shrine, as well, and some pray, but some desecrate it. Mike says that he’s had three statues stolen in the last few years, which is quite unfortunate. Here’s a picture of Mike telling a tourist from Washington State about Byrnesville:

Anyhow, after I finished at the shrine, I toured Centralia and its environs. I have to admit, it was pretty cool. The coal fires have enough fuel to burn for another 250 years, and it shows. The ground is warm to the touch and it smells like being in a steam room filled with burning sneakers. Here’s a tourist walking through smoke pouring out of the ground:

And here’s old Route 61, which was abandoned because the fires subsided the road, which now undulates crazily:

I’m now in Ashland, another nearby town which was far enough away not be damaged. It has to be one of the nicest towns I’ve been in. Every single person I’ve passed has said hello and wished me well. I’m assuming they don’t get a lot of bicyclists around here, and you can see why. This is the hill that Ashland sits on, which is mild compared to the rest of the area: