After a little bit over two and a half hours, we had made it into Pomeroy – a town in Meigs County along the Ohio River. It was around 9:30pm, and we had found ourselves at a gas station to get some drinks. Now I’m not superstitious about anything for the most part, but looking back now, it should have been a fairly clear indication that things were about to get strange when my order totaled $6.66.

“Triple 6’s,” the cashier said as he rang up my total. My instant reaction was to respond by saying “oh, nice.” But when I looked back up to see everyone else around staring at me as if I had just burst into flames, I realized that it might not have been the best choice of response. I didn’t mean it in any way that they might have thought, but good luck explaining that. Thankfully we weren’t about to hang around for too long, as we had just been checking a few things out in town before we headed over to the nearby village of Cheshire. I’ll get back into the strange string of events that followed a bit later in this story.

After finding what we needed to find, we were on our way to Cheshire – a village in Gallia County, also along the Ohio River. The village was named after Cheshire, England, and according to a recent estimate, the population currently sits right around 128. Cheshire was a very necessary stop at this point, not only because it was about a 13 minute drive away, but also because it remains one of the darker parts of American history.

Cheshire is a village located in southeastern Cheshire Township, founded in 1811 from Kyger Township.

The town encountered quite a string of bad luck over earlier years, but it wasn’t that way from the beginning. In fact, during the earlier days, the pure, fertile land and clean spring water provided an excellent area to grow crops. Farms popped up all over the town, and many of them would ship grain and other crops as far south as New Orleans. After some time, coal was discovered in the Cheshire, which led to the construction of the town’s very own train station on the Hocking Valley Railway. Cheshire thrived for many years, but would soon start to see things take a drastic turn.

In 1863, over 2,000 confederates invaded the town, raiding and looting supplies, and taking many militiamen prisoner. This invasion was known as Morgan’s Raid, and Cheshire just so happened to be one unlucky town in its path. Morgan’s Raid is also known as the Indiana-Ohio Raid, the Great Raid, or the Ohio Raid. It was the only major attack by Confederate forces on the state of Ohio during the American Civil War.

The second bout of bad luck came when the town was hit by major flood damage on March 23-26 during the Great Flood of 1913. Cheshire was one of many towns to be hit by the flood, which spread across Alabama, Arkansas, Connecticut, Illinois, Indiana, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maryland, Massachusetts, Mississippi, Missouri, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tennessee, Vermont and Virginia. It’s estimated that around 650 people died during this flood, with over 400 deaths in Ohio. The water had eventually cleared, and people in Cheshire began to rebuild the town.

Unfortunately 24 years later, Cheshire once again fell in the path of destruction when another flood would put the town under water. The Ohio River Flood of 1937 swept through the town, destroying it almost entirely. During this flood, 385 people died, and over one million were left homeless.

As if Morgan’s Raid and two floods weren’t enough, it wouldn’t be long before the town saw yet another bit of bad luck; only this time, they wouldn’t rebuild like they had before.

Cheshire sits on an S-bend in the Ohio River where Ohio, West Virginia and Kentucky meet. Being right there, nearly in the heart of the coal industry made it the perfect location for AEP to build the Kyger Creek Power Plant, and the Gen. James M. Gavin Power Plant. The Kyger Creek plant was launched into service in 1955, and the Gavin plant was built in the early 1970s, and its two units were put into service in 1974 and 1975. When Kyger Creek was constructed, they had built three 538-foot-tall smokestacks in order to disperse emissions of soot and gases from polluting the surrounding area. Amendments were made to the Clean Air Act in 1970, and regulators pushed Kyger Creek to modernize their old, out of date smokestacks. In response, a 1,001-foot-tall smokestack was constructed in the late 1970s at the Kyger Creek plant, and was one of the tallest chimneys in the world. It currently sits at number 40 on a list of tallest chimneys in the world. In 2001, another addition was made when pollution control systems were installed at the Kyger Creek plant to reduce nitrogen oxide emissions by 80%. In 2011, they had added two jet bubbling reactor flue-gas desulfurization systems, which reduced 98% of sulfur dioxide emissions.

The Gavin plant is currently the largest coal plant in the state of Ohio, and one of the largest in the United States. It was named in honor of James Maurice “Jumpin, Jim” Gavin, the third Commanding General of the 82nd Airborne Division during World War II. The plant consumes about 35,000 tons of coal per day, every day of the week, and generates enough energy to power two million homes. In February of 2017, the plant provided more than 11% of the total electric generation capacity in Ohio. The plant accounts for $6 million per year in property taxes, which support the Gallia County school system and government. They remain the county’s largest taxpayer, and in addition they continue to make annual contributions to local charities and non-profits. 

When AEP constructed this plant however, residents weren’t happy with the problems it had caused for them as years went on. By 2000, toxic sulfurous gas clouds were constantly hovering over the village, and acid rain would fall due to poor pollution control. This same year, the EPA declared Gavin in violation of the Clean Air Act.

It has been said that residents decided to hire lawyers to request a buyout, claiming illnesses arising from the fumes and chemicals spilled into the ground. Other sources say that the company had made the decision to propose a buyout of the town to avoid possible lawsuits after complaints, but information has been lost over the years. Residents complained of everything from headaches and scratchy eyes to sore throats and more. The Center for Disease Control had later found the air in Cheshire was so full of sulfur compounds, it was more than five times the level needed to trigger asthma attacks. Even today, you can still see dirty clouds hovering over the town.

However, when AEP investigated claims by residents, they found no connection between the plant and the long term injuries and illnesses reported. The company however decided that they would be able to use the land for future development, and by 2002 had reached a settlement with residents for a $20 million buyout. Almost all residents had accepted the buyout, but a small handful refused to leave.

Each homeowner that did leave received three-and-a-half times what their home was valued at. In return, each person signed an agreement to give up their rights to sue AEP for any connection to illness or injury. Once AEP took control over the entire town, they demolished all vacant homes, and planted new grass where they once stood. In 2016 AEP sold Gavin and three other plants to Blackstone and ArcLight as part of a $2.17 billion deal.

After some time in Cheshire, we decided to make our way around the area and see what else we could find. What’s an adventure without a bunch of aimless driving, yeah? 

Four and a half miles up the road northwest of Cheshire, we stumbled into Kyger Village. The village was laid out in 1842 – 32 years before Cheshire – and was named after Kyger Creek, which runs along the Ohio River. It was around 11:30 at night when we entered. The town was quiet and empty, aside from many bats fluttering in and out of the rooftop of a crumbling, abandoned school house. One lone light stood at the end of the road illuminating what was once the town hall.

We stood silently in the warm glow of street lamps, taking photos of the old schoolhouse. As we gazed off into the darkness behind the dilapidated building, a loud sound, almost like an animal screaming came from a dark patch of foliage in the distance. This happened not just once, but twice. It was quite strange and slightly unnerving, but we still didn’t think too much of it. After all, it may have just caught us off guard more so because we were in an eerie, unfamiliar place at night, staring at an abandoned schoolhouse full of bats. That makes sense, right? We decided to pack up and move onward up the road to see what else we could find in the area.

The road leading north took us down desolate roads, past a cemetery and numerous farms, though we could hardly see any of it now being 12:30 at night. The entire drive up this road had us feeling uneasy for some reason, but neither of us could tell quite exactly why. It wasn’t long before we had come across an old rustic wood barn with a single warm light shining down from the top. The light silhouetted what had at first appeared to be a carved wooden bear statue, but as we got closer, we realized we were both far off. Realizing now that the statue had wings, we both came to the conclusion it must be an angel statue. We were kind of right, but what we noticed next had us both feeling even more off about the entire area, or what might happen next.

So what makes an angel statue beamed in a warm, eerie light, situated in front of an old barn in the middle of nowhere even better? Well, when it’s the angel of death of course! Give Death a creepy face and make sure he’s standing on some skulls and you get even more points. Weird placement for such a sculpture, right? You know we 100% had to stop and take some photos and video. If this wasn’t strange enough, the animal eyes glowing in the barn didn’t help. I actually wonder if those even were animals at this point.

So here we were, now feeling super uneasy in a place we were completely unfamiliar with. We didn’t know if the people out here were the type to shoot someone for standing on their land, but we weren’t about to hang around long enough to find out. With all of the strange things happening up to this point, we weren’t sure what was next. We got back into the car, and as we turned around, we were greeted with our next strange sight – a lone white horse standing in a pen, staring at us through the darkness as we got back onto the road. If you’re not familiar, Death and the horse have an interesting connection biblically. What a strange coincidence that they would be right  next to each other.

Revelation 6:8 – And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him. And power was given unto them over the fourth part of the earth, to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with death, and with the beasts of the earth.

We almost lost our way through roads as we looked for more stuff to photograph on our way back. We eventually made it out of the town, and back to Cheshire through dark, curving roads. Above the treeline, a blood red moon shone in the night sky. I wasn’t sure how to feel at this point, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we had some kind of energy following us to our hotel.

After a recommended 3 hours of sleep, we were on our way back out at sunrise. Of course, after such an experience we had to revisit the town in the daytime.        

Most everyone in the town is part of a family that has been there since the beginning. The Bradburys are one of the earliest families to live in the area, and we had the chance to speak to three of them during our visit – J.D. Bradbury, and his mother and father.

“Don’t be scared of nobody in Kyger,” he told us as we talked about the history of the town and buildings. He appreciated us visiting to photograph and document the town. Residents of Kyger are nicer, more happy and carefree than anywhere else I’ve visited in Ohio, and everyone is happy to talk about the town’s history. J.D. has lived in Kyger now for 54 years, and his parents have been here even longer. As we spoke, they told us of an older building that was a one room schoolhouse. After they tore it down, they modernized the current brick one you can see today. J.D.’s grandmother’s house was one of the earlier ones in town, and was built from box cars from the railroad. The home had no indoor plumbing, but they had an outhouse on their property. After years of it sitting empty, it got far too deteriorated and was torn down.

J.D. steps inside for a moment to grab a few family photos to show us. He brings out a series of photos from over the years showing his father, mother, grandfather and grandmother.

His father and mother were married in 1962, and moved into their own home in Kyger in 1965. J.D.’s father spoke of the old days he remembers. In town, when the town still had a general store, you could get a gallon of milk for 69 cents. He smiles and laughs as he tells us how upset everyone was the day they raised the price of ice cream sandwiches from a nickel to six cents. J.D.’s parents had moved into a brown house on a curvy road leading out of Kyger. According to J.D.’s father, cars would come up the road at night, shining their light into the upstairs window. His father worked through most of the night, which left his mother home. She recalls hearing noises coming from the attic, and would always tell him about it when he got home. As the cars would pass, shining their lights inside, a bird in the attic would fly around, finally landing on a rocking chair, rocking it back and forth. Some stories had been passed around locally that the house was haunted. Given our experience here, I wouldn’t have doubted it had I been told stories.

The old Kyger Methodist Church was built in 1884, and used into the early 2000s before it was closed in 2003. The inside of the church had a modern update sometime during the 1980s/1990s. Windows have been boarded, and all that remains inside is a calendar from 2003, when it was last in use.

The former town hall building used to provide the community with a place to hold meetings, but has also been abandoned, and now sits quiet and empty. Stepping inside, we noticed many of the plates still stacked on shelves, while a red and white checkered tablecloth remained on the dining area table.    

People living in the area now don’t mind AEP being there; most actually enjoy the company, and many even work for them. Kyger and surrounding areas have the highest cancer rates by population in the state of Ohio, and many believe it’s due to the power plants. Even so, nobody living here is scared. Driving through, you can smell the lime used to clean the coal; a smell we had wondered about when we were driving through the roads at night.  

Kyger surely has some of the nicest people I’ve ever met in a town I had never been to. I’m thankful for them being so welcoming, and taking the time to talk to us.

If you’d like to see more, you can check out my friend’s account of our trip on his blog here