Two Dams and a Lake

Remember how I said that we gift our children experiences rather than mere things?

That was the inspiration behind a spur-of-the-moment trip we took recently to a place I’d visited over 25 years ago. It was a place I hadn’t revisited since that time, but it made a huge impression on me as a wide-eyed 8-year-old. I figured that if I loved the place so much that I vividly remembered it after so many years, then my children would feel the same way. The place I am talking about is Smith Mountain Dam.

For those who don’t know, Smith Mountain Dam (and Leesville Dam farther downstream) are a set of hydroelectric power stations on a branch of the Roanoke River in Virginia. They were built back in the early 1960s by Appalachian Power (a division of American Electric Power) in order to regulate peak power usage from their coal-fired plants in the region. The resulting reservoir is Smith Mountain Lake, the largest lake within the Commonwealth of Virginia and a gem of a place to visit.

During the day, the electrical grid would reach maximum usage and the coal-fired plants would strain to meet the demand of residents using either their air conditioning or their electric furnaces, depending on the season. So the Smith Mountain Dam releases water from upstream through its giant turbines, generating extra electricity during peak hours. At night, when residents are using the least amount of electricity, Smith Mountain Dam actually pumps water back upstream into Smith Mountain Lake, creating a sort of tidal effect over the course of a day and a night. The lake/reservoir will actually rise and fall by several feet over the course of a 24-hour period, in conjunction with the power output from the coal-fired plants.

In order to accomplish all of this, Appalachian Electric Power leased enormous amounts of land along the Roanoke River and around the dam sites themselves, creating a sort of nature preserve. They also had the foresight to understand that this technological oddity would attract sightseers and other curious visitors to see the enormous wall that holds back Smith Mountain Lake. AEP built a visitors center chronicling the building of the dam, a modernist organic-looking building perched on a hillside directly above the bulk of the dam. The view from the center is awesome, but there is a second, much higher lookout from which one can take in the whole scene, and it is truly spectacular.

As I had hoped, the children loved it.

They raced up the long winding causeway to the top of the huge hill next to the dam, leaving me behind to make my own breathless way up. At the top is a little sitting area with a concrete roof, and across a small lawn from the sitting area are two fences that protect visitors from plunging down a steep rocky slope into water and machinery. From this overlook you can see the rear of the dam, with its huge sluice gates that open to allow water from the lake into the turbines. I know that in the world of dams Smith Mountain Dam is relatively small, but the sheer size of the machinery involved still inspires awe.

From the overlook there is a path that meanders into the pine trees on the side of the mountain, and hidden all the way at the end of the path is another awe-inspiring site. When the construction crews had finished building the dam they removed all the construction equipment except for one piece. It is a giant railroad car that looks like it has fallen on its side. Upon closer inspection, though, one realizes that the rail car and the rails it still rests on were built to be sideways. The reason was that the rail car was part of the old crane system that lifted the dam machinery into place during the construction. It served as a mobile anchor point for a long cable that stretched across the valley, and the anchor had to be braced the opposite way from the other valley wall for strength and stability, kind of like a tug-of-war team leaning backwards as they pull the rope. This rail car dwarfed my children.

Once the top of the mountain had been thoroughly explored, we drove back down to the bottom next to the outflow below the dam, where AEP also had the foresight to create a giant park for people to picnic and play. And picnic and play we did. While we ate and played, we listened to the occasional whine of the dam’s warning alarm letting everyone nearby know that water was about to flow downstream. Then we watched as the water level below the dam began to rise, and water began to rush past the bridge only to be captured by Leesville Lake farther down. This happened at least twice just while we were eating our lunch, and the kids found it mesmerizing. At least the older kids. The younger three just wanted to throw sticks into the river.

After exploring the park and encountering the world’s scariest bathroom, we called it a day. A fantastic day. One that brought back a flood of memories. The biggest thing that struck me was just how unchanged the whole place was, even after 25-odd years. AEP, for all of its faults and failings, knows how to maintain its facilities and the land with which it has been entrusted. I’m counting this as another win.

Oh, and we found a weird tree there too. Here’s a pic to prove it.