It started in 1988, the summer after Jim graduated. A few friends, one trip, and a promise nobody actually said out loud but everybody kept. The rest of us were still in high school then; we didn’t graduate until 1990.
Jobs came. Weddings came. Babies came. And when the babies came, the trip skipped a few years. Then it came roaring back, and in 2016 it became something bigger: the wives and kids came along, and what had been five guys in the woods turned into the whole family. It was better for it.
Nearly four decades in, the Chuckwagon Gang still rides. The
“camping” got considerably more comfortable, the crew got considerably
bigger, and the stories got… well, let’s say refined with age.
What started with a few teenagers is now eighteen people strong: the five founders,
the families, and nine kids who think this is just what everyone does.
They’re right. It is. It’s what we do.
The whole crew, on the deck.
The Founders
The Original Five
Three started it in 1988. George talked his way in by 1993, Brian by 1997. Nobody has left since. The names on the shirts are not negotiable.
FOUNDING
Heath Lockard
on the trip since 1988
HeathL the Diesel
FOUNDING
Shawn Nardella
on the trip since 1988
Poppin’ Fresh
FOUNDING
Jim McGregor
on the trip since 1988
Jagged B
JOINED 1993
George McElwee
on the trip since 1993
Notorious B.I.G
JOINED 1997
Brian Zarallo
on the trip since 1997
Huggy Z
The Original Five, 30+ years in.
Every founder had a bowling shirt with his rap name stitched on the chest and THE CHUCKWAGON GANG across the back. Heath, Shawn and Jim still have theirs.
The Next Generation
Born Into the Gang
Nine kids who’ve grown up on this trip and figure every family
spends a week in a cabin with the same crew. Membership was automatic.
ClaireRyanOwenVivianSamBrookColtonAsherMason
Safety glasses on. The next generation, out at the range.
For its first stretch this was five guys getting away from it all. The
families didn’t start coming until 2016, and then it became eighteen
people bringing it all with them. The kids don’t vote on the destination
yet. Yet.
This Year’s Camp
Seven Springs
This year the wagons rolled to Seven Springs, Pennsylvania:
Laurel Highlands mountain air, eighteen people under one (large, very nice) roof,
and the annual reminder that nobody in this group has ever once agreed on a
thermostat setting.
Same crew. Same trip. Bigger cabin.
2026
SEVEN SPRINGS
Laurel Highlands, Pennsylvania
The Trail So Far
Somewhere New, Most Years
Reconstructed one argument at a time around a fire on County Line Road, with five guys holding five slightly different versions of history. The tent years are on the record now. The cabin years still need somebody to say them out loud.
The Tent Years · 1988–1997
1988
Gerald R. Freeman · Sutton Lake, WV
Year one, the summer after high school. Heath drove the
1963 Pontiac Catalina, light blue, low miles, out of a garage where it had
sat for years. They called it the Love Yacht. Frozen pizza and ramen
noodles.
1989
Bulltown · Braxton County, WV
The only year here, and Memorial Day weekend. Bulltown
charges by the head, so Jim got in the trunk of the Love Yacht. He is six
foot two, and while Heath and Shawn were at the guard window he started
rocking back and forth on purpose, swaying the whole car in front of the
attendant. The attendant never said a word. Camping fuel lit up the whole
campground. The site was next to the playground, and after a late night the
kids out there had the last word: “Hey, they’re finally getting
up.”
1990–1992
Gerald R. Freeman · up on the hill, then the point
The pontoon boat years, on Jim’s grandpa’s boat.
It quit running and had to be towed in. One genuinely terrible sunburn.
1993
Gerald R. Freeman · site 99
George’s first year. The doll with the knife through
its head, the snake, and the tinfoil hat.
1994
Gerald R. Freeman
Jim mailed his gear home instead of carrying it. George
mailed it back to his office while he was traveling, and his boss left a
voicemail: “you got a package from the Acme Inflatable Sheep and Doll
Company.”
1995–1996
Gerald R. Freeman · site 111, then down to the left
The Bud Man years: the guy in the next site who wore
the hat, talked to everybody, never once complained about the noise, and was
honestly part of the ruckus. Also the pentagram burned into the ground, and
the night Shawn and Jim ran the campground naked. Somebody yelled out of the
dark, “bring your girlfriends next time.”
1997
Gerald R. Freeman · site 99
Brian’s first year, and the last one in tents. The beer
bottle went in the fire and everybody ate glass. They fished through a
lightning storm as a hurricane came in because Heath worked out the clearing
had no trees to fall on them. George gigged a fish with a Lucky 13. The
neighbors ran Jeff Foxworthy at full volume straight through the storm and
were still at it the next day, after nearly everyone else had cleared out.
The Cabin Years · 1998–today
1998
The switch
Jim moved to Michigan that October. The tents went in the
garage and the cabins started. Nobody has slept on the ground since.
1999–2008
The cabin years, still being written down
Snowshoe, West Virginia was one of them. The rest of the
locations live in the founders’ heads and nowhere else yet.
~2009–2012
The gap
The one stretch the wagons didn’t roll. Nobody is
certain of the exact years.
2016
Canaan Valley, West Virginia
The year the families started coming, and the first one we
have photos of. A day up at the gorge overlook, a pond behind the cabin, sticks
turned into swords, and the hot tub going strong past midnight. See the 11 photos ↓
~2013–2025
Canaan Valley, then Snowshoe, then south to the Gorge
Canaan Valley for 2016 and 2017. A long stretch at Snowshoe
after that: 2018, 2019, 2021, 2022, 2023. In 2025 the wagons went south to
Oak Hill. 2020 was two families and a great many masks. The front half of
this stretch is still being pieced together, so if you know where we were,
tell Shawn and it goes up here. See the albums ↓
2026
Seven Springs, PA
Eighteen strong, and the first year in Pennsylvania. The
current chapter. See the photos ↓
The Legend
Gary, Caught on Tape
He shows up almost every single year. Is he a myth? Is he real? Nobody
knows for sure. What we have is the footage. Judge for yourself.
Snowshoe · The Village
Strolling the village like he owns the place.
Snowshoe · July 5, 2019
The kids saw him coming up the stairs. Brian filmed the whole
thing, which he says proves it wasn’t him.
Snowshoe · 2023
Shot from a distance, through the trees, behind a fence, ducking
down among the rocks. Which is exactly how this sort of footage always looks.
The Album
Proof It Happened
Three decades of evidence, recovered one shoebox at a time. Every
year we dig up its photos, it gets its own page here. Tap any picture to blow it up.
1988
Year one
1 photo
Where it all started. The summer after Jim's senior year: Heath drove the Catalina, dinner was frozen pizza and ramen noodles, and a bottle got passed around in the woods. Tents, a fire ring, a cooler parked within reach. This is the oldest photograph on the site.
Year one. Three of them hunched over the fire, arms around each other, with the cooler close by.
?
The early years
3 photos · one of them dated
Three photographs with nothing written on the back. A flash going off at night with most of the crew still upright behind it, somebody up on skis down a green corridor of water, and a swim on a rocky bank. They are from the camping era, before there was a cabin to go to. The night one is now named all the way across, and it dates itself: George had joined by then and Brian had not started coming yet, which puts it between 1993 and 1996. The other two, nobody has dated.
Left to right: Shawn with Jim behind him, Kelly James in the red, Stacy Morris in the hat, Heath, and George on the end.Up on the skis, with the hills closing in on both sides.Out of the water and back up the bank.
1999
Location unrecorded
1 photo · more wanted
The first dated photograph from the cabins era. Five of them lined up against the stone, one absurd hat each: a bush hat, a feathered headdress, a hard hat, a pink sombrero, and something furry. Nobody has said whose idea the hats were.
Five of them against the stone, one ridiculous hat each.
2000
Location unrecorded
1 photo
The cabins era, a couple of years in. Four of them in front of a stone fireplace, a rifle and a couple of knives brought out for the portrait, everybody grinning like it was their idea. The year was written right on the album page.
Four of them against the stone, posed for the frontier portrait.
?
The cabin years
1 photo · year unknown
No date on this one. Five of them lined up down the hearth, each with a hand on the shoulder of the one in front, under a pair of crossed canoe paddles. A stone fireplace means it is from the cabin years, after the tents. Which year, and which cabin, nobody has worked out yet.
Five of them in a line down the hearth. If you know the year, say so.
2016
Canaan Valley, West Virginia
40 photos
The first year the families came along, and the whole shape of the trip changed. Canaan Valley: paper plates spelling out the year on the mantel, a day at Blackwater Falls with the whole crew on the boardwalk, a cavern tour that came with hard hats, the kids turning the cabin yard into a battlefield, and the hot tub still running long after the fire died. This is the year the Chuckwagon Gang stopped being five guys in the woods.
Everybody, and every one of them now named. Under a mantel that says 2016 in paper plates, with CHUCKWAGON! propped in the middle of it. Standing, left to right: Mandy Lockard, Heath Lockard, George McElwee behind them, Brian Zarallo, Lanay Zarallo, Shawn Nardella, Kelly Nardella with Owen on her hip, Jim McGregor, and Jone McGregor. Seated, left to right: Colton, Brook, Vivian, Claire, Sam, Mason, Ryan, and Asher. Eighteen people in one frame, the year the families came.The five founders under the same mantel, left to right: Heath, Brian, Shawn, Jim, George. Ten years before anybody thought to build them a website.The kids take the overlook rock, and every adult present reaches for a phone at the same moment.Blackwater Falls, the whole crew stopped on the footbridge, and for once almost everybody is looking at the same camera.Four of them at the falls rail, left to right: Ryan, Colton, Brook, and Vivian. Brook’s shirt handles the introductions from behind.The overlook deck, and everybody finding a gap in the rail.Seconds later: Brook up on the rail for a better angle, and Ryan turning around to see who is taking the picture.Blackwater Falls itself: two drops, tannin-dark water, and the amber pool underneath.Rocking chairs on the store porch: Jone with Asher gone limp in her lap, Jim on the bench, and one more entirely out of gas.Mason in the gift shop, pointing out a shelf of bear figurines labeled BEAR ARMS.Jim’s arm gets long enough to fit all four McGregors in: Jim, Mason, Asher, and Jone.Brook, summited, and posing for the record.The overlook rock again, this time claimed outright by the next generation. Brook in the purple. One holdout took his own corner of it.Brook and Colton, hard hats issued, waiting on the cavern tour.The cavern tour proper, stopped on the walkway under the stalactites. Every hard hat a different color and not one of them straight.Two rods, one pond, a whole green hillside to themselves.The whole next generation under the 2016 mantel, left to right: Brook, Colton, Asher, Vivian, Claire, Sam, Owen, Ryan, Mason.Past midnight in the hot tub, steam and cold ones.The McGregors at the same rail: Jim and Jone, with Mason in the Beatles shirt and Asher in the neon yellow.And the Zarallos: Lanay and Brian, with Vivian in the BRAVE shirt and Sam up on Brian’s arm.The Nardellas at the overlook rail, left to right: Ryan, Kelly, Shawn, Owen, and Claire.The Lockards: Heath, Mandy, Brook, and Colton.Brook at the overlook, straight down the lens, with the drop behind her and no interest in it whatsoever.Shawn and Owen, and something across the gorge worth pointing at.Brook and Colton, straight up the nearest tree. The cabin yard was repurposed as a jungle gym inside the hour.Owen and Sam, and a stick considerably longer than either of them. It is a sword now.Brook and Vivian, holding down the picnic table. Brook still has the feather headdress from the group photo.Jim and Mason at the reel, hands over hands. Cabin pond out back.The way in, with the weather already making its position clear.The cabin, two decks deep into the hillside, and somebody already surveying from the top one.The kids' table, running at full capacity. The carved bear is watching from the corner; he turns up again next year wearing George's Carhartt.George reading out loud on the leather couch, audience of two, neither of them looking at the book.Somebody made hot dog chili from scratch, decanted it, and labeled it in marker: WEST “BY GOD” VIRGINIA HOT DOG CHILI. The bottle earned that label the hard way.Nine kids, one floor, and the nightly business of getting all of them horizontal.The hot tub, claimed by the shortest members of the party.Negotiations at the rim.And then at night it belongs to the grown-ups. Fire going off to the left.Standing room, drink in hand, in no hurry at all.Downstairs in the cabin: wood panelling, a Coca-Cola sign, a wood stove nobody needed in August, and Jim and Lanay settled in for the night. Lanay is still in the purple from the group photo, which puts this the same evening.Along the futon under the pennants, feet up, nothing whatsoever on the schedule.
2017
Canaan Valley, West Virginia
7 photos · family trip
The year the trip doubled: the whole gang came for the big family week, and the guys ran a second trip of their own. This is the family week: the kids-under-the-mantel class photo now a full-blown tradition, and the carved bear on the hearth wearing George's forgotten Carhartt like one more member of the crew. The whole gang finally has its 2017 portrait too, year written straight on the photo, plus the one taken a second later where nobody is behaving.
The 2017 lineup, back row L to R: Sam, Ryan, Colton, Brook, Claire, Vivian, Mason, Asher; Owen up front by the bear.And the version four seconds later, when the posing gave out.Lining up the annual class photo, two phones up, and the bear planted front and center in George’s forgotten Carhartt.The rug gets a fire station: two builders, one playset.The whole gang against the stone, with 2017 stamped into the corner of the picture afterwards.And the version where everybody stopped behaving.The next generation up on the hearth, the bear in George's forgotten Carhartt keeping the front.
2017
Canaan Valley, West Virginia
2 photos · guys trip
The other half of 2017: the guys ran their own trip, no families along. Golden-hour bass off the pond, a football game on in the cabin, and Brian committing fully to a Flash costume that nobody requested and nobody could talk him out of.
Brian turned up as the Flash. No one asked. No one objected.Heath and a good pond bass, golden hour off the bank.
2018
Snowshoe, West Virginia
17 photos
The year the pool table became the chuck wagon. A whole week of food spread across the felt in open defiance of the framed house rule sitting right on top of it, a drink bar the kids raided down to the last Capri Sun, and the afternoon Gary the Gorilla came out of the treeline and, as always, the kids went after him. Cards Against Humanity ran late. The rest of the week is here too now: the grown-ups lined up against the stone with the year written on the photo, all nine kids on the hearth in pajamas, a creek worked end to end, and a sunset off the overlook worth stopping for.
Gary the Gorilla makes his appearance, and the kids close in. You never let Gary get too near; they'll come after him with whatever they've got, Super Soaker included.The pool table becomes the chuck wagon: a week of food spread across the felt.The house rule, framed and propped right on the table it was losing to.Raiding the drink bar: Capri Suns, Yoo-hoos, and a run on the water bottles.Chin in hands over a wall of Doritos, waiting on whatever comes next.Hi-C through a tiny straw, dead serious about it.Heath and Shawn. And yes, that’s teenage Shawn printed on Heath’s shirt: jams, a cut-off tee, and a mullet in full bloom. Cards Against Humanity ran late.The five founders against the stone, left to right: Jim, Heath, George, Brian, and Shawn. 2018 stamped into the corner.All nine kids on the hearth, and George sitting in the middle of them.The same nine, same hearth, George no longer among them.The stag on the wall, watching the whole week.A blood-alcohol chart held to the wall with two magnets, as West Virginia code requires. Nobody has admitted to consulting it.Eight of them out on the rocks, working the creek end to end.The overlook at the end of the day, with the ridges going soft.Flat green, big sky, and the mountains a long way off.Jone and Mason, wet hair and two grins, somewhere between the water and dinner.Mason, a plate of cherries, a blanket, and absolutely no further plans.
2019
Snowshoe, West Virginia
21 photos
Fourth of July week back at Snowshoe. The whole crew lined up at the trail junction with the weather coming in hard behind them, a day trip down the mountain to stand under the Green Bank telescope, and a movie on a screen in the village square with the bunting still up. Back at the cabin: snails by the fistful out of the wet woods, a blowdown big enough to climb inside, and a loft landing that filled up with kids and screens every time the weather turned. And on the fifth, Gary turned up. There is tape.
Most of the crew at the trail junction, under the signs for Crosscut and Grabhammer, with the weather coming in fast behind them.The Green Bank telescope: 485 feet, 8,500 tons, sitting in a valley that has to stay radio-quiet for it.The sign does the bragging: a dish surface big enough for two football fields.Movie night in the village square, bunting still up from the Fourth.Then the whole valley filled with cloud, and the sky did this.The whole gang out on the cabin deck, with 2019 stamped into the corner.The grown-ups, on the deck, at the hour the deck is for grown-ups.The kids, same deck, armed.Four men, one railing, the whole valley behind them, and every one of them looking at a phone.The other end of the deck, six of them mid-conversation, and a door that would not stay shut.Two at once. The woods were full of them.One walking the length of a hand.Held out for inspection, whether you asked or not.The hunt, and what the hunt actually produced: three heads down over one snail.Five of them in the spruce, holding up a fallen trunk that did not need holding up.A blowdown big enough to climb inside, which is all the invitation anybody needed.The loft landing, from below. Everything on the cabin funnels through here.Stairs, screens, weather outside. A working system.Upstairs, the landing turns into a floor everybody lives on.Same landing, one second later.Two of them down on the floor with tablets, a Nerf gun within reach of the nearest hand.
2020
The year everything closed
22 photos · the COVID year
Two families went. The Zarallos and the Lockards drove down anyway and everybody else stayed home. For a long time the year was filed as the one nobody photographed, and then twenty-two pictures turned up. The first is eight people in surgical masks lined up behind the fire pit. The second is the same eight, in the same spot, on the same afternoon, with the masks off. After that it is a week like any other: a birthday cake, air hockey, a hot tub somebody put far too much soap into, and a gravel road with nothing coming the other way. The trip didn't break. It just got very small for a while.
Masks on. Four adults, four kids, one fire pit: the only year the picture needed explaining.Masks off. Same eight, same deck, same afternoon.The cabin that took them: green roof, three gables, a long yard down to the road.Same cabin, end of the day, every window going.Inside: a red dining room, a long table, and somebody already moving through it.The kitchen island doing what a kitchen island does.Eggs, at whatever hour eggs happen on a trip like this.The grill on the deck, and the drop-off right behind it.Three of them at the picnic table under the porch roof, a pizza each and a beer each.Four grown-ups, four drinks, and the ridge doing the rest.Jim’s cake, with Jim on it. Jagged B is the rap name stitched on his bowling shirt, and the icing carries an old photograph of him standing over a campfire at night, arms out, from back in the camping years.And Colton, fork already up, going in on a slice with Jim’s face on it.The games room: air hockey at one end, shuffleboard at the other.Air hockey, contested.And a ping pong table in the garage, because the weather doesn't always cooperate.At some point two inflatable tyrannosaurs squared off in the living room. This is not explained either.Somebody put soap in the hot tub. The hot tub had opinions.It kept going for a while.The gravel road, walked most days.Nothing coming the other way, which was rather the point that year.It looks like Lanay is climbing out that window. That can’t be true. Can it?And a fire, every night, with the mountains going dark behind it.
Rode out
The Zarallos
The Lockards
Sat it out
The McElwee
The Nardellas
The McGregors
2021
Snowshoe, West Virginia
54 photos
After a year that barely happened, everybody came back. The whole crew squeezed onto one deck rail for the group shot, and the class photo went outside: the same lineup that started under the 2016 mantel, five years on and a foot taller apiece. Then they took the mountain apart. A full day in the saddle, from the mounting block to the muddy climb and back down the gravel road; the chairlift up and over the valley, where Gary was found riding down alone, on a chair of his own; the climbing tower; and an afternoon at the pool that was really just the blue slide, over and over, until the grown-ups gave in and had a go themselves.
Everybody back, and everybody in the frame.The lineup moved outdoors. Left to right: Colton, Owen, Mason, Claire, Vivian, Brook, Sam, Ryan and Asher.Up the lift, out over the whole valley.Three to a chair, one hand permanently in the air.Coming in over the top station.And three more behind, all talking at once.Something is coming down alone.Closer. Still alone. Still not explaining itself.Gary. Belted in, arms folded, riding it down like he paid for the ticket.All nine along the rail, shuffled. Left to right: Owen, Asher, Claire, Vivian, Brook, Mason, Colton, Ryan and Sam.Same nine, same order, from further back.The climbing tower, three up at once.George, in the West Virginia vs All Y’all shirt, fully committed to it.Fishing the stone edge of the pond, two grown-ups supervising.The far side, where the grass takes over. Still fishing.A whole string of riders came along the far bank while nobody was looking.The barn, and the first one up.Mounting block, purple steps, full concentration.Leading out past the bunkhouse in the straw hat.Up on the palomino, reins sorted.The palomino, moving out.Around the ring, getting the feel of it.And again, on the bay.The paint horse, and a rider who has decided this is fine.The black one, considerably larger than advertised.Sunglasses on, ready before the guide was.One of the grown-ups, also ready.Two horses, one conversation.Helmet on, expectations managed.Waiting her turn on the rail.Out past the lot and onto the track.Into the spruce.The muddy bit, taken slowly.Single file, nobody hurrying.Up the track, from the saddle.The line, strung out along the hillside.Out of the trees and into the open.Across the meadow, small against it.And back in, single file, at the end of it.Poolside, mid-afternoon.The West Virginia shirt made it to the pool as well.In the water, holding on.Still holding on.The blue slide, which took most of the afternoon.Landing, and the next one already climbing.Feet first, arms out.Another one down.The grown-ups had a go too.Out the bottom, into the middle of everybody.And again.The living room at the end of a long day.Kitchen, wine located.Pouring, with a flower behind the ear.Rigging something on the deck, supervised.
2022
Snowshoe, West Virginia
17 photos · 1 clip
Snowshoe again, and the year somebody finally printed the dates on a shirt: 1988 to 2022. The kids got on horses, the lake got a fleet of kayaks and paddleboards, the pool got raided, and the porch did exactly what the porch is for. Somewhere in the middle of it a cake came out with a bow on it.
Morning over the village, ridge behind ridge behind ridge.The whole pack turned loose in a meadow at the top.Selfie at the overlook, arm already around her.Shading the eyes, settling something important.Wind up top, doing what wind does to hair.Rash guard at altitude. No water in sight.Reading the weather from the parking lot.Up on a paint, reins in hand, entirely unbothered.Sunglasses, helmet, burger shirt. Fully equipped.Aboard the blondest horse on the mountain.The lake, one kayak and one paddleboard at a time.Thirty seconds of the lake, boards going out and a kayak coming in.The pool, and the slide, and no intention of leaving.The porch, mid-afternoon, everybody exactly where they want to be.Porch selfie, and a salute from the good chair.Two frozen daiquiris, clinked with total ceremony.The cake comes across the room for Brian, streamers already up.Brian Zarallo, birthday boy. His lands close enough to the trip that the cake comes to the cabin, and the shirt says the rest: 1988 to 2022.
2023
Snowshoe, West Virginia
40 photos · 2 clips
Snowshoe again, and the year the pond gave itself up. Everybody took a rod, the kids out-fished the grown-ups by a mile, and the pool handled whatever daylight was left. Then at dusk the whole crew went up to the top of the mountain, spread blankets on the grass, handed out light-up flower crowns, and waited on the Fourth of July fireworks. Every Snowshoe year ended up on that lawn. One of us went down for a nap out there and got decorated for it. Away from the water it was a creek to wade with red cups issued, a rock overhang big enough to stand under, red efts on the path, a covered bridge that warns you bridges don't talk, and a bunk room somebody sealed off with caution tape.
Dina Colada’s van. Say it out loud. The guys went to high school with her when she was Dina Stump, and thirty-some years later she paints faces up at Snowshoe under a name that good. That plate was never going to go unphotographed.The whole bank staked out, rods in the water, one lawn chair fully reclined.First one off the hook, inspected closely.Held up for the record, grinning about it.Two on one line. Nobody topped it all afternoon.Hair everywhere, fish on the line, entirely delighted.Stars and stripes and a bluegill.Back at it, same shirt, same pond, another one on.Rig trouble, solved by committee.Casting lesson, backs to the world.Flat water, long cast, nobody talking.Unhooked and going straight back in.Five, apparently. The count was disputed.The pool, entered all at once and without discussion.Blankets down at the top of the mountain, the village lighting up behind, everybody waiting on the fireworks.Crowns issued. Compliance was total.Two crowns, one blanket, holding court.The grown-ups' corner of the lawn.Snacks out, conversation going, light fading.The kids' blanket, mid-negotiation.Parked beside a snow gun, which in July is just furniture.Last of the light. Everybody settled, everybody facing the same way.He fell asleep on the lawn in a light-up flower crown. The crew documented it rather than waking him.The crew, printed on a mug, keeping an eye on the place.The guys, five across, in front of the stone fireplace.Two of them held the spot after the others cleared out.Sharp's Kissing Bridge, 2005. The sign adds: bridges don't talk.The overhang, with two people under it for scale.Tucked up against the rock face.The creek, worked end to end, red cups issued.From up on the bank: the creek, the culverts, and one kid picking his way across.Downstream, with the rest of the crew working the far bank.Two red efts on the path, going about their business.From the air: the lane, the lawn, and everybody spread out along it.Straight down. Nobody looked up.Rods out at the pond, mid-instruction.The porch, the camp chairs, and a sombrero nobody has explained.On the steps, mid-story.Somebody sealed the bunk room off with caution tape. The investigation is ongoing.The big fireplace, going properly.Outdoor fireplace, one stick, full concentration.Same mountain-top night, deeper into it.
2024
Snowshoe, West Virginia
3 photos · 5 clips · more to come
Back at Snowshoe, and the year that mostly lives on video. Nearly all of it is the range: sign in at the counter, safety glasses on, then take turns at the stand while the thrower kicks clays out over the grass. The kids shot. The grown-ups coached and filmed and gave notes nobody asked for.
Signing in at the counter, gun safety rules on the wall behind.Amber lenses all round. Everybody kitted out under the stand.Under the sign that says DO NOT LOAD GUN UNTIL IN SHOOTING POSITION, which everyone read twice.One at the stand, one coaching over her shoulder.Thrower loaded, clay away, and the whole line watching the arc.Next up, with a gallery forming behind the stand.Filming the filming. Somebody has this from three angles.George doing his best impression of The Thinker. Or we caught him mid-fart. Who knows. The lift chairs behind him sat still all week and offered no comment.
2025
Oak Hill, West Virginia
no photos yet
South to Oak Hill, down by the New River Gorge, and the first summer in a long while the wagons didn't point at Snowshoe. Nobody has turned up photos from this one yet. They exist. They are on somebody's phone.
No 2025 photos on the record yet. If you have some, send them and this page fills in.
2026
Seven Springs, Pennsylvania
4 photos · more to come
North to the Laurel Highlands, and the first year the wagons crossed into Pennsylvania. Eighteen people under one very large roof, and a covered patio that quietly turned into a card room: chips down the middle of the long table, hand rankings written out on a sheet of paper for anybody who needed them, and fourteen players grinding their way down to one. The first annual Chuckwagon Gang Texas Hold ’em tournament has a champion, and a trophy to prove it.
The five founders, left to right: Heath, Shawn, Brian, Jim, George. Brian is the one in the Mothman shirt, which, nine years on from the Flash costume, surprises nobody.Texas Hold ’em on the patio, the whole table in it. Hand rankings written out longhand for anybody who needed them.Owen Nardella, hands up. That pot is his and he would like it noted. His brother Ryan took the whole tournament.Ryan Nardella, champion of the first annual Chuckwagon Gang poker tournament, out of a field of fourteen. The eight and the ten are the cards that did it, and the plate on the trophy says the rest.