Exploring History on a Spring Hike to McCown’s Mill

by Mark Miles

History pervades everything. If you’ve ever gone on a hike in the woods and unexpectedly discovered the remains of a crumbling barn, the shards of a glass bottle, or the fading traces of an abandoned path, you’ve seen this for yourself. So often, however, this fact is overlooked by our culture in its persistent race toward novelty, which is frequently presented as an unqualified good but should more accurately be considered a drug to distract us from what is truly important in life. Regardless of whether it functions as a sedative or stimulant, novelty is frequently nothing more than a relic of the past redecorated for modern consumption.

The irony of this situation is that confronting the complexity of the past in all its historical depth can provide a greater sense of novelty than any prefabricated commodity on the market. By going into the world, seeing for ourselves the impact of the past on the present, and extrapolating from the present to the future, we can begin to appreciate where we as a species have been and where we are rapidly heading. We can also begin to appreciate how much our own lives are deeply and inextricably interwoven with the lives of people whose last footstep came to rest on this planet centuries ago.

Not for the first time, I found myself in this position on the first weekend of May, when I took a hike on an unfamiliar stretch of trail at Eno River State Park. I’ve hiked portions of the Laurel Bluffs Trail in the past (click here to view story), but the trail is so long and hilly that I’ve only ever been able to traverse a small portion of it at a time. In this instance, I started from the Pump Station Access on Rivermont Road in Durham and made my way northwest to the southern bank of the Eno River, where I then followed Laurel Bluffs Trail on its southwest trajectory toward the ruins of McCown’s Mill.

Laurel Bluffs Trail is one of the less frequented and consequently less well maintained trails in Eno River State Park. As such it can be somewhat treacherous in parts, especially when the trail suddenly veers up a steep incline or skirts the edge of an actual bluff. Nonetheless it’s also deeply peaceful by virtue of its seclusion and at times hypnotically beautiful in its serpentine dance along the banks of the Eno River. On this occasion in early May, as I navigated through the woods on Laurel Bluffs Trail, I was keenly aware of this.

I was also aware of the presence of the ruins of an old mill – which was originally called McCown’s Mill and later called Cole’s Mill – on this stretch of the Laurel Bluffs Trail. In fact there’s a nearby road in Durham named Cole Mill Road, which to this day passes within a quarter mile of McCown’s Mill and was presumably named for its close proximity to the mill after it underwent a change of ownership in 1874. Though most people have no idea of the origin of the name of the road, it’s one small but pervasive way in which history has left its mark on the land.

The mark would never have been made, however, without the work of many people who lived in this area and ensured the construction of McCown’s Mill over two centuries ago. Foremost among these people was John Cabe, the owner of another mill a couple miles upstream, whose family was one of the most powerful and influential in Durham during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Fulfilling his responsibilities as patriarch, John Cabe oversaw the construction of McCown’s Mill in 1813 as a kind of dowry for his daughter Rachel Cabe upon her marriage to Moses McCown.

The reason for this was simple. John Cabe had nine daughters and no sons, and during this period in US history women were prohibited from owning or inheriting land in their own name. If they were in a position to own or inherit land, it transferred to their husbands by default. This situation did not change in North Carolina until 1868, when married women were finally allowed to own property in their own name in the event that their husbands were irresponsible, imprisoned, or incapacitated. Therefore, if John Cabe wanted to continue to exercise power and influence over the region, he had to find some way to ingratiate himself to the man who would become Rachel Cabe’s husband and the legal owner of his lands. This John Cabe did by financing the construction of a mill and naming it after his son-in-law, Moses McCown.

This marked the beginning of McCown’s Mill, one of the more substantial mills in the region as indicated by the presence of a tilt hammer. A tilt hammer is a very large and powerful blunt instrument used primarily in smithing to refine ore and temper steel; this made it very handy in the time before steel mills were common in the United States. Below is a short video demonstrating a tilt hammer (also called a trip hammer) in action.

It represented a significant input of capital on the part of the mill owner and allowed the mill to perform a much wider range of operations than it would otherwise have been able to. In a sense, it was John Cabe’s way of making sure that Moses McCown fully appreciated how much he owed the older man.

But the marriage between Moses McCown and Rachel Cabe was not to last. In 1830, Moses McCown died, leaving Rachel the implicit but unrecognized owner of McCown’s Mill. To ensure that her children would inherit the mill uncontested, Rachel married another mill owner named Herbert Sims in 1831. Rachel’s family subsequently held the mill until 1874, when Rachel’s children sold the mill to John Anderson Cole. It was at this time that McCown’s Mill became Cole’s Mill. In 1908, however, the mill was destroyed in a devastating flood, after which time McCown’s Mill became little more than a footnote in history.

Aware of the presence of the old mill, I was keen to find as many traces of it as I could on my hike. After crossing under the overpass for Cole Mill Road, which is still functional to this day, I passed through the surrounding forest of beech and sycamore, noticed the leveling out of the trail on the flood plain, and finally caught sight of something ahead. There was a footbridge over a small creek, and I hurried to cross it.

After the footbridge, I noticed a side trail branching to the left away from Laurel Bluffs Trail. Peering into the distance, I caught sight of something that appeared to be an old stone hut. Intrigued by the thought of what it might be, I approached through the thicket of undergrowth, which wasn’t as well cleared now that I was off the main trail. When I came within ten feet of it, I stopped in my tracks and admired the handiwork which graced the old springhouse. This was the location where meat, dairy, and perishables would have been kept cool in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, before the advent of icehouses or refrigeration.

Returning to Laurel Bluffs Trail, I resumed my search for the ruins of the old mill. Before long, I noticed a cylindrical depression in the ground to my left, about twelve feet wide by five feet deep with sloping edges. Then something, actually two somethings, caught my eye. They were sitting on the southest side of the depression, opposite where I was standing. They were about four feet in diameter and were draped in undergrowth. They were undoubtedly millstones.

The first millstone I saw was the runner stone, which sits on top and rotates in a traditional gristmill. In this position it provides the necessary force to create friction to grind the grains which are fed into it from above. The circular hole in the middle facilitates the motion of the stone spindle, an axle which attaches to the runner stone and causes it to rotate.

The second millstone I saw was the bed stone, which sits on the bottom of a traditional gristmill. In this position it remains stationary while providing the counterforce necessary to create friction to grind the grains which fall between it and the runner stone. If you look closely, you can see the fissures where separate stones were plastered together to form the bed stone.

Continuing down Laurel Bluffs Trail, I came to a hill where another side trail branched to my left. Taking this trail, I ascended the hill by the side of a creek bed and came to an old abandoned cabin, surrounded by foliage and adjacent to a field. There was no clear indication of what purpose this cabin served, but it may have been associated with one of the ancillary businesses frequently attached to a mill: forge, general store, cotton gin, or distillery.

Turning west, I continued to explore the hillside. Before long I came to a clearing, after which I was able to discern the unmistakable traces of an old road stretching into the distance. To the south of this road, there was a primitive stone wall that stood about two feet high, though it may have been much taller when the mill was still operational. Positioned on the edge of the road that passed by the mill, the wall may have formed an enclosure for a loading dock where materials from McCown’s Mill were transferred onto awaiting vehicles for transport to distant markets.

Backtracking to the cabin and descending the hill, I started hiking Laurel Bluffs Trail back to the Pump Station and my car. The trail was mostly deserted, but the views were pleasant and gave a distinct impression of what must have attracted so many early European settlers to this area in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Certainly the beauty of the area must have been one of many reasons why John Cabe and his daughter Rachel chose to make a home for themselves on the banks of the Eno.

For my part, the beauty of the Eno Valley has been a great benefit to me over the past two years since I started hiking regularly. But there’s so much more than mere beauty to be found here and in any other wilderness. There’s a haven of peace and tranquility, a hotspot for health and fitness, and a great place for outdoor recreation. Beyond that, there’s a vital connection to the past in the form of historic sites such as McCown’s Mill, without which future generations will have no way to fully appreciate the importance of a crucial chapter in local history.

There are other additional reasons for the preservation of historic sites. For a start, they prompt us to reconsider what is truly important in life: freedom, nature, beauty, peace, health, and belonging. They beg the question of why our culture is so obsessed with and addicted to novelty for its own sake. They allow people to develop a real relationship with the land, without which our lives would not be possible. They reveal that history and the land are one, so deeply intertwined that it takes only the smallest scratching at the surface to uncover a wealth of knowledge about both. Finally they show that if our species is to survive on this planet, we must protect both history and the land. Without them not only will we starve, but we will even forget who we are.

References:

Anderson, Jean, “A Community of Men and Mills,” Eno Journal (via Eno River Association), Vol. 7 Special Issue, July 1978, accessed April 30th, 2018.

Anderson, Jean, “Cabe, John,” Dictionary of North Carolina Biography (via NCpedia), (University of North Carolina Press, 1976), accessed May 3rd, 2018.

Anderson, Jean and Margaret Nygard, “The Story of West Point on the Eno,” Eno Journal (via Eno River Association), Vol. 3:1, 1975, accessed May 2nd, 2018.

Bender, Nancy, “Spring Houses, Important Buildings in the Past,” Mercersburg Historical Society, accessed May 1st, 2018.

Cabe, John Family Cemetery,” Durham-Orange Genealogical Society (via Cemetery Census), accessed May 3rd, 2018.

February – McCown-Cole Mill,” Eno River Association, accessed April 30th, 2018.

Heron, Duncan, “Mill Sites on the Eno River; A Geological Viewpoint,” Eno Journal (via Eno River Association), Vol. 7 Special Issue, July 1978, accessed April 30th, 2018.

Khan, B. Zorina, The Democratization of Invention: Patents and Copyrights in American Economic Development, 1790-1920 (New York, NY, USA: Cambridge University Press, 2005) pp. 166-8.

Kueber, Gary, “McCown-Cole-Sparger-Nygard House,” Open Durham, accessed May 2nd, 2018.

Nygard, Margaret, “the Coles,” January 1986 Calendar, Eno River Association, accessed May 10th 2018.

Spring Houses,” Good Things by David, accessed May 1st, 2018,

Trip Hammer,” Wikipedia, accessed April 30th, 2018.

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Inching toward a Paleo Diet: My Ongoing Effort to Eat in Balance with Nature

by Mark Miles

This blog post may seem to be a departure from my usual stories, but it nonetheless relates to nature through that most intimate and personal relationship which all of us have: our relationship with food. When you realize that everything on your plate originates from the natural world either directly or indirectly–plants grow directly from soil; animals feed indirectly on soil through the plants and animals they eat–it’s easier to understand how the food on your plate changes the way you perceive and engage with the natural world. Additionally it’s important to maintain some degree of health and fitness if you plan to do any amount of serious hiking, making the topic of food and diet relevant in that way as well.

With that said, I should explain that I haven’t always been fit and healthy. On the contrary, I’ve struggled with obesity, binge-eating disorder, and prediabetes more than once in my life, especially in my early twenties. Thankfully I have few photos to show of my obese former self, but if you could have seen me at twenty years of age weighing 250 lbs. with a 40” waist and the jowls of an old man, you’d realize where I’m coming from. Nonetheless, I did manage to become fit and healthy around twenty-four due to a complete reconfiguration of my diet and exercise regimen, and I remained fit and healthy from twenty-four until thirty-two years of age, during which time I adopted a gluten-free, low-sugar diet that drew a great deal of inspiration from the paleo diet.

Then in 2016 I went through a terrible breakup–which I’ve written about at length in a previous blog post–and found my self-esteem absolutely shattered. After Bobby disappeared, I questioned whether anything I was doing in my life was right, and in the process I ended up undoing a great deal of the progress I’d made in my physical fitness. Above and beyond anything else, I started eating refined sugar, which I had avoided almost entirely for eight solid years. At the time when I started eating refined sugar again, I rationalized my decision by telling myself that I needed a break, that I needed something different in my life, that I needed a change. Unfortunately the change I made was unquestionably for the worst.

From March of 2016 until May of 2017, I indulged in basically every sugar-laden sweet treat which I had avoided for nearly a decade. I started baking and eating pineapple-right-side-up-cake, brownies with chocolate frosting, and my favorite of all: chocolate-peanut-butter-oatmeal cookies. For fourteen solid months, I allowed myself to go downhill. And it wasn’t long before I started noticing that my pants didn’t fit as well as they used to, that there was the beginning of a gut hanging out where my abs used to be, and that even my face was starting to look positively plump.

Finally I woke up one morning in May of 2017, got out of bed, looked at myself in the mirror, and didn’t recognize my own face. It may sound like an exaggeration, but the fat which I was accumulating was easily visible everywhere, including my face, and altered my appearance so much that I considered applying for the job of Pillsbury doughboy. At that point I knew I had to do something, or the changes I was experiencing would have soon become frightening and irreversible.

So I cut the refined sugar along with processed foods in general, increased my consumption of natural protein and fat, and added a whole host of fruits to compensate for the loss of sweets. I had done it for eight years previously, so I knew I could do it again. But it was still frightening when I considered giving up so many of my favorite foods all over again. Fortunately some awareness of the paleo diet lingered in the back of my mind, and even though I had never fully implemented it I decided that I would use it as an inspiration for my attempt to regain balance in my relationship with food.

Amazingly the act of cutting refined sugar/processed foods, increasing protein and fat, and adding fruit was much easier than I thought it would be. It was also a huge relief. Within a week of my dietary reconfiguration, I was feeling more energetic, focused, enthusiastic, and positive about my life. I started losing weight around my gut noticeably within a month, and within two months my face was once again recognizable in the mirror. I knew I was on a good track, and I’ve persisted with that track to this day.

But I realized recently that I still have further to go. What instigated this was my reading of The Paleo Solution by Robb Wolf. I had the vague recollection of hearing about the book when the paleo diet started to become popular several years ago, but I never took the time to read it until recently. To my surprise, within the first hundred pages I found the motivation to finally eliminate three food groups that have remained in my diet despite the changes I mentioned earlier. These are dairy, legumes, and grains.

Dairy:

I’ve always loved milk. From my earliest childhood, I can remember pouring a plastic jug of watered-down skim over my prefabricated imitation of breakfast known as cereal. Despite having the nutritional value of a cardboard box and the addictiveness of a mild opiate, I loved that milk. Even after I gave up processed food, I still loved and adored whole milk as well as butter. I still love butter in fact. Until a matter of days ago, I used it to fry my eggs in the morning and make stir-fries on the weekend.

But the sad fact is that milk contains lactose, which is a significant allergen that can contribute to the development of irritable bowel syndrome, ulcerative colitis, and Crohn’s disease. Additionally most milk is derived from cows who’ve been progressively poisoned with antibiotics, hormones, and grains which they were never intended to eat. This invariably affects the quality of the milk and its impact on anyone who consumes it. Consequently I will now be eliminating milk and dairy in favor of coconut oil, which is incredibly tasty and stable at high temperatures, making it ideal for cooking.

Legumes:

A very close second in terms of difficulty will be the elimination of legumes, specifically peanut butter. I’ve loved peanut butter for as long as I can remember, but over the past ten years it’s really become a staple for me. The simple reason for this is that I adopted vegetarianism for a few years in my early twenties and needed to find a good source of protein from a vegetable source. But it turns out that peanuts–which are legumes–are rich in phytic acid, an antinutrient that inhibits the absorption of micronutrients in the gut. Peanuts also frequently contain aflatoxin, a carcinogen which has deleterious effects on the liver and can be particularly harmful to children. In place of peanuts, I’ll be consuming almonds and walnuts, the latter of which is rich in omega-3 fatty acids.

Grains:

Though I do love a slice of fried toast in the morning with my eggs, grains in general and wheat in particular will probably be the least difficult to eliminate of the three food groups listed above. I’ve already substantially reduced my intake of wheat over the past ten months, and there’s no meal in the course of my day that depends on it to a disproportionate extent.

The reason for eliminating wheat and grains is that they can contribute to the development of serious digestive complaints, including irritable bowel syndrome and celiac. Grains also have a tendency to accumulate in the lining of the gut, where they interfere with nutrient absorption and increase the likelihood of unhealthy weight-gain.

So those are the big three that I will be eliminating for at least the next month. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll try reintroducing any of them after a month; that depends largely on how successful I am with cooking and meal preparation using the paleo staples of meat, fish, eggs, fruit, and vegetables. I’m not a huge carnivore, so there will certainly be a degree of transition for me, but I’m excited about the prospect of finding a way to eat that’s consonant with human prehistory, physical fitness, and the health of the gut.

Hopefully this will also be an inspiration to you to attempt something similar with your own diet. If I could make a recommendation from personal experience, I would start by eliminating refined sugar entirely and replacing it with fresh, dried, frozen, or pureed fruit. Just make sure whatever fruit you get is free of additives, since sugar is commonly used to enhance the flavor of fruit, defeating any beneficial qualities it would otherwise possess.

Along with preservatives, artificial colors, flavor enhancers, and the above-mentioned toxic food groups, the presence of sugar in the industrial food supply demonstrates the degree to which agribusiness is intent on keeping all of us addicted to harmful products which do nothing but enrich the wealthy at the expense of health and life for millions. This situation is sick, deranged, suicidal, and downright evil, and it’s also ubiquitous in modern, industrialized societies where food is no longer an embodiment of our relationship with the natural world but merely a commodity for sale to the highest bidder. But this situation–as sick and twisted as it is–is also the greatest possible motivation to get off your couch, get angry as hell, and make a change in the world that your future self will be proud of.

References:

Aflatoxin,” Wikipedia, accessed February 8th, 2018.

What’s Wrong with Beans and Legumes?”, Paleo Leap, accessed February 8th, 2018.

Wolf, Robb, The Paleo Solution: The Original Human Diet (Las Vegas, NV, USA: Victory Belt, 2010)

Hiking through the Ruins of an Old Dam on the Pump Station Trail

by Mark Miles

At the beginning of October, I took my first hike around one of the most remarkable and historic locations in Durham, North Carolina. I had no idea before visiting exactly what I would find, and I very nearly missed my hike because of the virtually nonexistent parking–which consists of a few spots on the side of a gravel road running through what appears to be the middle of nowhere. Despite the abysmal parking, the land surrounding the Pump Station Trail at Eno River State Park–which crisscrosses the old dam for the City of Durham–is a testament to the power of water and its crucial role in society. It’s also the perfect place for an adventure you’ll never forget.

After parking along the side of the road, I got out and started looking for the trail itself. It wasn’t readily apparent, but after a little searching I found the trailhead and started my adventure. The first quarter-mile of the Pump Station Trail was fairly nondescript, passing through a forest of oak, pine, and maple in every direction. To my left there was a steep embankment that led to the edge of a small creek, but otherwise there was no indication of what lay ahead.

After traipsing along the trail for ten minutes or so, taking photos whenever the opportunity presented itself, I started getting the idea that the Pump Station Trail might be something remarkable. The first indication of this was a crumbling brick-and-mortar structure to my right that appeared out of nowhere. It was about ten feet tall and stood fifteen feet or so from the trail. I took a couple quick photos and continued on my way, soon finding a sign that warned of “dangers associated with falls.” I duly took note and proceeded with caution.

The next indication of the remarkable nature of the Pump Station Trail shortly revealed itself. Following a side-trail that veered to the north, I saw the ruins of an old building–which I would later find out was the pump house for the dam–looming in front of me. The land rose on the left and descended to the right, allowing two clear entries to the decaying building. I took the left branch of the trail first and found myself gaping over the edge of a wall from a height of fifteen feet. There were weird and indecipherable mechanical structures inside it that simply begged for closer inspection, which led me to take a closer look.

Backtracking from the high place where I found myself, I walked through the doorway to the pump house. The air was cool and musty, and there was the definite impression that this building had held a great deal of water at some point in the past. The bluish stone that made up the majority of the structure was quite beautiful in its own way and gave the place a faintly otherworldly mystique.

The first weird mechanical structure in the pump house to catch my attention was a giant screw standing three feet out of the ground. I’m not an engineer, so I’m not in a position to say what this was, but it was quite fascinating and invited a host of questions about how the pump house worked when it was still in operation.

The second weird mechanical structure to catch my attention was a very large pipe, a foot and a half in diameter, that stood not far from the giant screw. There was an accumulation of dirt, leaves, and other debris that clogged its mouth, but it was clear to see that at one point it had been a major conduit for the transfer of water from the dam.

Coming out of the pump house, I caught a glimpse of it from another angle which gives a better idea of the size of the structure. The height is roughly fifteen feet and gives pause for thought when you realize that the part of the pump house that still survives is merely the foundation of the original structure. The building itself, which stood on top of what you see here, extended another ten or fifteen feet upwards to make for an imposing edifice.

After inspecting the pump house, I continued to the east and found a series of connected chambers standing about eight feet tall which I would later find out formed the filter room, where the real action took place. To the best of my knowledge, this is where the water would have undergone coagulation, flocculation, and sedimentation. Through this series of interrelated processes, a chemical is introduced into the water which causes debris and organic matter to clump; the water is then allowed to stand for some length of time in order for the debris to form “flocs” or clumps; then a rake-like device is passed through the water to remove those clumps of debris. Presumably all of this would have taken place within the filter room pictured above, though there may have been differences in the process when the old dam was constructed in 1887.

Around the filter room, there were rolling embankments of a clearly man-made origin, which enhanced the sense of otherworldly mystique that I had encountered in the pump house. The sunlight bursting through the branches of the surrounding forest provided the perfect accent to the scene, and it was easy to forget that this site had once been heavily mechanized and much more obtrusive to the surrounding forest. But nature has a way of reclaiming things when left to her own devices.

Circling around the filter room and the pump house, I came back to where I had diverged from the Pump Station Trail. Following the trail again, I shortly came to a dry creekbed which extended to the south for some distance. I got the feeling there was something noteworthy in that direction, but I had no idea just how noteworthy it would be.

Drawing closer to whatever it was as I continued to hike southward down the dry creekbed, I started to get the feeling I was entering a movie set for Lord of the Rings. Ahead of me I could see stone-and-mortar walls of a genuinely colossal scale, through which meandered the creekbed which had somehow regained the water which was missing earlier.

Coming closer to the walls of what turned out to be an old and defunct dam, I started to feel as if I was merely an ant surveying the work of giants. These walls were absolutely immense, reaching skyward for a solid forty feet before cresting in a massive embankment that looked like a steep hill in the surrounding terrain. I stood and marveled at the sight for several minutes, taking photos from every possible angle and wondering for the life of me how people without computers and forklifts could ever have built such a thing.

Deciding that I had to get a view from the top of the embankment, I progressed westward until I found a stretch of ground that wasn’t quite as steep and proceeded to climb it very gingerly. Upon reaching the top, I started following the clearly identifiable line of stone and mortar that ran eastward back toward the walls of the old dam. This was trickier than I expected due to the steep incline of the surrounding terrain, and I began to realize why there was a sign warning of “dangers associated with falls.” Coming as close to the edge of the forty-foot dropoff as I could, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and headed back the way I came.

Rejoining the Pump Station Trail, I resumed my hike in a westward direction and soon found myself in the middle of a lovely fern grove, which could easily have come out of The Hobbit. The sun in the distance illuminated the area with a calming radiance and helped to settle my spirits after the excitement of climbing to the edge of a sheer forty-foot dropoff.

Following the full circuit of the Pump Station Trail, I covered another mile before finding myself back where I started. This was when I realized I hadn’t gotten a good photo of a fascinating structure near the dam which had caught my attention from the moment I saw it.

Retracing my steps back to the walls of the old dam, I found what I was looking for: a stone tower of some sort that rose about twelve feet over the surrounding terrain. It was positioned in proximity to the walls of the old dam and seemed to have been built to overlook the spillway.

Passing to the south of the tower, I found this very interesting crenellation in it. I still don’t know what purpose this tower served, but it seems to have been designed to stand in the middle of the surrounding reservoir and to allow access to the lower levels of the body of water. Perhaps it was a monitoring station or a well or a gigantic vent pipe for allowing air pressure to interact with a subterranean pipeline. Whatever it was, it was endlessly fascinating and gave much food for thought.

Walking back to my car, I found myself reflecting on the beauty and scale of the ruins of the old dam. Beyond that, I found myself thinking how the reason for the construction of such an elaborate and awe-inspiring feat of engineering was something as simple as water. For it’s water that powers our way of life, whether we realize it or not. It’s water that provides nourishment, electricity, cleansing, irrigation, recreation, and beauty to all of our lives. It’s water that provides the basis for human society, without which none of us would be alive at this very moment. And it’s water that deserves our respect, our admiration, and our unceasing effort to protect it at all costs.

References:

Eno River Park Map,” North Carolina State Parks, accessed Aug. 31st, 2017.

January — Pump Station,” Eno River Association, accessed Oct. 24th, 2017.

Kueber, Gary, “Durham Water Company — Eno River Pumping Station,” Open Durham, accessed Oct. 24th, 2017.

Schwantes, Jay P., “Pump Station Area,” Eno Trails, accessed Oct. 24th, 2017.

Water Treatment Process,” Durham, North Carolina, accessed Oct. 24th, 2017.