How to Find Haines Chapel & South Mountain CemeteryBuilt in 1914, the Chapel still hosts a (somewhat) annual reunion and an Easter sunrise service
Haines Chapel is the sort of place you wouldn’t know about unless you attended the potluck picnic and reunion service on this past September 13th, have ancestors buried in the graveyard, or tend to wander up mountain roads driven by a curiosity to know what is hidden in the dens and valleys between the trees.
Photo: Mike Pulice, 2011 The chapel itself is up a rocky gravel road many times washed out by mud and rain. The ground is so eroded that there is more rock than dirt, more deeply cloven potholes and crevices in the earth than any semblance of smoothness. The chapel is poised at the intersection of Nelson and Rockbridge Counties and, though concealed from the road by plenty of trees, offers a lovely view of the surrounding countryside once you reach it. No wonder there is an Easter sunrise service there, where a cacophony of voices transforms the empty space into a buzz of reverence and all eyes are on the rise of the piercing sunlight. Getting ThereTo find the chapel, you find the mouth of the gravel road where it intersects with Route 56. You turn off the pavement onto gravel. As you drive toward the tree line, the road is rapidly ensconced with trees. Pine and birch trees predominantly, their thick foliage blocking out the sun, hiding the road from any overhead inquiry, and casting a thick darkness over the road and the surrounding forest. It seems you are stuck there in a constant forward motion, the chasse of your vehicle straining against the weight of your decision to undertake this venture and pushing against gravity as the road steepens. You have faith in your car. You drive the kind of car that holds together against all odds. An old beater perhaps or a solid vehicle that has had plenty of work done on it but always endures. Certainly not a new car as it would surely fall to bits and insurance would refuse to pay up. You did this, they would say, you inflicted this damage yourself. Or perhaps they would pay whilst warning you not to do it again. Now you are here driving with both hands on the wheel praying. The speedometer is barely touching 10 mph, but it feels like you are going too fast, that the car is racing over the jutting rocks and that the rocks and crevices are guiding the tires instead of you. It is fitting you are praying because you are on holy ground where communities before you have set loose their hopes and dreams. There is nowhere to turn around. The road is narrow, steep, and curvaceous. To reverse downwards would be akin to suicide. Forward and upwards is the only direction to go. The engine is pointing into that lingering dusk and slowly but surely, you are making your way. Upon ArrivalAs suddenly as you entered the darkness, you are in sunshine. You break free from the tree line into exposing, unfiltered sunlight. You are in a sort of hollow, a clearing surrounded by trees. There is nothing but grass on either side of the faded dirt road that winds up to the chapel. Looking into the rearview mirror, it looks as though the trees have consumed the road. There is no obvious break in the tree line pointing to where the road leads back down to the safety of Route 56. You bookmark the spot you just emerged from. It exists. Now you can see the chapel. It is starkly white in the blinding sunshine and seemingly rises out of the ground as you drive around the small hill partially obscuring it. First, you see the grey shingled roof and rapidly the rest of the building follows. It is remarkably clean.
Photo: C Long, 2008 You are forced to a stop by a gate. A long strip of wooden fencing runs between the road and the graveyard adjoining the churchyard. The chapel and graveyard are behind the fence and the road you are on ends promptly at a gate. It was all for nothing, that long drive that shook the bones inside your flesh and almost dislodged your soul.
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