ScoutShady Rest RV Park
Left early — we did not feel safe
Shady Rest RV Park — one night, Nov 7–8, 2026
We stayed one night in our 31.5-ft Class C and left early the next morning because we didn't feel safe — and we couldn't sleep.
Getting in was the first warning. The road in narrows to one lane for a long stretch, and it's muddy — I nearly got stuck, and the rig coming the other way nearly went over the drop-off. There's no office and no signs telling you where to check in. I called first and got voicemail; I emailed and it bounced. (The website even says the GPS coordinates are wrong, though our RV-safe navigation brought us right in.)
A kind older woman came out of the trailer at the top of the hill, calling for 'John.' John is the property manager — he's in the blue trailer at the front of the row, landscaping equipment by the porch. The woman is the owner; her husband recently passed away, and he was the one who ran everything. That's clearly why nothing gets answered. I feel for her — truly. But the place is in chaos.
The owner and John argue constantly, in public, and it turned physical more than once while we were there. She told us John would take care of us, then whispered that she's his foster mother and that he has an intellectual disability. She couldn't tell us the rates. Later John knocked on our door with a handwritten note: $50/night, $175/week. We considered the week — we didn't take it, and I'm glad.
This isn't an RV park anymore; it's a run-down trailer park with long-term residents, only about half the trailers occupied. Sites aren't marked — a man just waved us to a spot, and we had to move because it was 50-amp and we need 30-amp. The gravel sites are unlevel and ungroomed. The electric will make you glad you have a surge protector. The water is cold, the sewer is just a hole in the ground, and the 'bathrooms' are glorified outhouses. There's a horde of cats and kittens across the road, and the whole park is their litter box — our dog found every spot. Three trailers I walked past were empty and falling apart. The one next to us had been sitting so long the grass had grown over its sewer hose.
We left at 9 AM after spending half an hour looking for someone to pay. When we finally found John and handed him the $50, the owner stormed out of her trailer demanding to know if we'd paid him, how much, and why — she's the owner, after all. Then she tackled him to get the $50 from him. It was awful to watch.
I have nothing against mom-and-pop campgrounds. But this place is disorganized, unkempt, and — with the constant public fighting — we did not feel safe there, not leaving our dog, and not leaving our whole life in the rig while we went to see the New River Gorge. (Yes, it pained me to skip the Gorge.) The whole time, I swear I could hear the Deliverance banjo.
I don't recommend it. The value just isn't there at $50 a night. It's an old park in a great location that is way past its heyday — and until someone is actually running it, it's not a resting place for RVers.
