I’ve known about the flowing well in tiny Blountsville for years. It’s hard to miss! Just off US-35, the site is marked by a big metal sign that shouts “Warning: Do Not Drink Water!” Still, it wasn’t until 2020 that I finally got curious enough to stop and explore. It took a couple of visits to dig up the well itself, but I swung by again on my way home from Richmond last weekend. With all the recent rain, I couldn’t help but wonder: was the old artesian well still flowing the same, or had the downpour changed it?
Over the years, I’ve heard that the area surrounding Blountsville’s flowing well was once home to a rest stop- one of those places that sprung up in the days before the interstate that featured a place to pull off, some picnic tables, and maybe a charcoal grill. These days, the area is a far cry from inviting. The well itself is the main culprit- I wouldn’t dream of drinking from it! It’s hidden beneath thick brush, dead grass, and plenty of muck. Both times I’ve managed to find it, it’s taken some serious digging by hand and by stick.
Flowing wells like Blountsville’s tend to flunk board of health inspections once their casings break. Without a proper pipe to direct the water, they turn into open pools easily contaminated as they bubble up from the ground. What’s the point of tracking a place down and digging into its story if I don’t live long enough to write about it?
At any rate, my Mom and I pulled off the highway near the warning sign and traipsed back towards the well. Any curiosity I had about how the recent rain had affected it was answered the moment my shoes sank into the soggy grass. I scanned the area for that telltale rust-colored water that’s a sure sign a flowing well is nearby, but all we found were scattered pools hidden in the overgrowth, each one quietly bubbling with natural gas.
I gingerly picked my way around the edge of the mess, hoping to spot the well casing. Unfortunately, I didn’t. With no other option, I eventually gave in and started digging through the watery muck with my hands. I checked near the rusty red gunk, tried a pool just to the northeast, and circled back to where I’d started but found nothing but more bubbles. I knew the well was close, but I just couldn’t see it.
Sensing my frustration, Mom grabbed a stick to help. It was more of a reed, really, and it snapped almost immediately when I tried to tried to play the saxophone dig with it. Undeterred, my ever-resourceful mother disappeared into the woods and came back with a sturdier branch. I got back to work, sinking deeper into the muck with every scoop.
I’ve never minded getting muddy and messy in the pursuit of history. I certainly did at Blountsville, but it wasn’t long before I finally unearthed the well. To my surprise, the stick revealed that it had been hiding in plain sight all along, camouflaged beneath just a couple of inches of overgrowth! The well is still flowing just like last time, but most of its above-ground casing is gone. The water just sort of trickles out into one of many pools nearby.
I’m not sure how far it originally extended above the ground when the area was maintained, but I can’t say I blame the state for slapping it with a contamination warning. The flow is so slow, you can actually watch gas bubbles rising through the pipe! If I were dying of thirst, I think I’d take my chances driving five more minutes to Mt. Pleasant Grocery to grab a 32 oz. Diet Mountain Dew and a Hunt Brothers pizza instead. At least that way I’d go out happy.
As it turns out, the recent rain didn’t do much to change the flow of Blountsville’s old artesian well other than turning its surrounds into a soggy mess. Despite the big, no-nonsense sign, finding the well itself is still surprisingly tricky! If you’re thinking about tracking it down yourself, take this as your official heads-up: the well sits uncomfortably close to the US-35 right-of-way, and the water is definitely not safe to dunk a dippin’ cup in. Contaminants like chloroform would be a real buzzkill if you’re hoping for a refreshing roadside sip!
