Fair warning: I am not going to try to strap any Larger Policy Significance onto this report. It was just one of the more interesting things we've seen on our travel, and we wanted to let others know about it.
Our story starts some 600 million years ago, when a body of water now known as the Iapetus Ocean lay beneath what is now the eastern coast of North America. That's about as much geology as you're getting from me. For more, you can start here, but I will tell you where the ocean's name comes from:
The modern Atlantic Ocean was named after the mythological Greek god Atlantis.... In Greek mythology, Iapetus was the father of Atlantis, so the older ocean is named after the older mythological figure. (The Iapetus Ocean disappeared as continental plates shifted around and recombined as Pangea. After Pangea broke up, a younger ocean - the Atlantic - formed between Africa and North America.)
Now we zoom ahead in time to about 250 years ago, in the late 1700s, when (according to local histories) a white settler named Mary Draper Ingles was captured by Indians in the Kanawha Valley of what is now West Virginia. While captive, she became proficient at making salt from the brine that bubbled up in a nearby salt lick. To connect the themes here, that brine was in fact from underground remnants of the Iapetus Ocean forcing their way upward.
By 200 years ago, around 1815, the Kanawha Valley was full of "salt furnaces," where people boiled down the bubbling-up brine to make salt, and then shipped that salt largely to the emerging meat-packing center of Cincinnati. The locals' main competition was from salt makers in Syracuse, New York. By 1850, the Charleston/Kanawha area was the salt-making center of the country.
And then ... well, we're getting ahead of ourselves, but the name "Great Salt Lake" might give one clue to where the trouble lay. For reasons we don't need to get into, the salt industry that had been so important to this part of the country through the mid-19th century was by the mid-20th century all but gone. The Dickinson's Kanawha Salt that had won a medal as world's best salt at the London World's Fair in the 1850s was by the 1950s shuttered and out of business.
A few years ago, the story changed. Lewis Payne and Nancy Bruns, a brother and sister who were seventh-generation descendants of the original salt-making family (which still has extensive land holdings in the area), decided to re-start the salt business as an artisanal operation. "The brine was still there!" Payne told us at the factory in the small town of Malden last month, where we'd been guided by Bob Coffield of Charleston.
The family's forebears had felled trees and, when the trees were gone, used coal to stoke fires and boil off the brine. Payne and Bruns instead went all-solar, building big greenhouse-like evaporation rooms in which the brine could go through the various stages of its conversion into pure salt.
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