W&M mysteries: What is that weird brick pile?

It was an average day: average clouds, average birdsong, average Williamsburg humidity (which, is to say, approximately 110%).

There I was, beating my way through the wild underbrush that is the College Woods. It was while I was on one shore of Matoaka that I saw it: on the other side of the lake were ruins of a brick structure and something that looked like a dock.

Despite an impending rainstorm, I started the trek of a lifetime around the perimeter of Lake Matoaka to find some answers.

The partial perimeter parade was longer than I expected. Around a finger of Matoaka, I came across the original Natural Bridge. A huge tree had fallen across that section, which would have cut off a couple minutes of walking through swampy lake-land. I almost climbed across it, but wasn’t gutsy enough. Ah well. Another day, Natural Bridge, another day.

I finally arrived on the site, and started exploring (and taking pictures!)

The crumbling bricks used to house an old pumping station. Looking at one of the rusty slabs of metal makes everything instantly clear: it is a suction centrifugal! The pumps were from some company called Nash Engineering. After a grand total of about 2.43 minutes on Google, I’ve concluded that this was a sewage pumping station for Williamsburg back in the day.

The Nash Engineering Company emerged on the market in 1905 as the leader in liquid ring vacuum pumps. I tried to date the system by searching the patent numbers (apparently Google Patents is a thing, and it is remarkably more interesting than I ever thought possible. Maybe patent law isn’t boring.) Irving C. Jennings and Nash Engineering have a staggering amount of patents. The latest date associated with this system was 1929, a couple years after The College of William and Mary acquired Lake Matoaka and the lake was made public.

Lake Matoaka was closed for high fecal coliform bacteria levels in the late 1980s due to a sewage spill. Matoaka is still closed to the public, even though toxicity levels have dramatically declined. There was no information on when or why this pumping station fell into disuse, but even without any scientific basis or literature to back me up, I have the sneaking suspicion that this pumping system did not majorly contribute to the closing. It probably was out of use and on its way to urban decay.

Since its heyday, the pumps have deteriorated into a small piece of local history no one knows or cares about. The romantic would call it beautiful how nature is slowly reclaiming the site. The nostalgic would smile in memory of the past. The pessimistic would call it an eyesore and litter.

The station is still cool though. I found two frogs and neither of them peed on me. The pipes have been left unattended for so long trees are growing around them as their trunks expand. There is graffiti and ashes from fires, so clearly some rebellious, YA novel type shenanigans have gone down by the old pumping station. It is hidden from view from the road and most of the lake, so it is a nice, quiet, reflective spot to have a fire or use some spray paint or contract tetanus.

There were a lot of bricks. One would think us poor college students could escape the perils of hardened clay in the woods, but no. The powers that be would not be so merciful. TWAMPs are destined to go tripping on bricks in the forests as well.

Marilyn, is that you?

You learn something every day, friends. Let this be today’s lesson: lurking in the College Woods on the shores of Matoka is a crucial piece of Williamsburg history. Suction Centrifugal-ing is not a trivial matter, it is very important. Take the time to go beat your way through the thickets of the shores of Matoka. Aerate your lungs, stretch your legs, and go find this half crumbled brick wall and soak up the ghosts of the past.