The first you thing you notice driving through Buckhannon are the signs at area businesses, asking for prayers for the trapped miners. It's a little ominous and the town, though might small, is really quiet.

We went to the McDonalds for breakfast with a photographer from the AP out of Pittsburgh this morning. We really stuck out, not in a weird way, but a "we can tell you aren't from around here way." They're friendly, though, but they didn't recognize us and you could tell.

Everyone in the McDonalds was talking about the mine, sharing rumors they'd heard, stories of people they know in the mine and thoughts about the fate of those trapped. Despite the massive media presence, they really weren't passing much accurate information to each other. Don't know whose fault that is, because as I listen to the reports and read the wires, they're really accurately reporting what the Gov. and the coal company is telling us.

The state police have cordoned off the entire area, open only to family and friends and media. Sago Road, where the mine is, follows the Buckhannon River and a set of railroad tracks. When you arrive just outside the Sago Baptist church, where relatives and friends of the miners have gathered, you see cars. Everywhere, lining the roads, in people's yards, there are cars as far as you can see. Then, you see satellite trucks and TV crews and reporters and photographers. They're also everywhere and you can tell our presence, just under 24 hours at the time, is taking a toll on the small town and the little area we've taken over.

We've mostly been kept away from the families. State police blocked the road that led directly to the church (though they weren't really checking who drove up there). Some reporters have attempted to sneak into the church, through the woods and they haven't been met with happy people. An AP photographer managed to get in last night, as the Gov. was visiting with the families.

Still, you see family (the ones brave enough to leave the church and wade through the mud and reporters) walking around and you don't really know what to do. Interview them, offer them words of comfort? Both? You can tell some don't want anything to do with you, they just want to be left alone. You can tell others are depserate to talk, to tell someone about the people they love who are trapped underground.

I have the most difficult time interviewing people affected by tragedy. I find it hard to keep my composure. You've probably seen Nick Helms on CNN. He's 25 and his father, Terry, is one of the men trapped. He's one of the mine's fire bosses and based on the scant information we have right now, I feel he may be the one we know was killed.

Nick told me he just wanted to see his father again to tell him how much he loved him. He almost started crying and I thought I was going to, too. All I could say was, I'm sure he knows how much you love him. I desperately want his dad to be alive.

CNN is a dominating force at the mine site. Their producers, reporters and photographers are everywhere, moreso than any other outlet from what I can tell.

Coming back down Sago road from a trip up to the ridge to talk to the men drilling holes through the mountainside, I saw Anderson Cooper walking around, gathering footage for his "reporter's notebook" that he told me was going to air tonight sometime on 360. He keeps saying "We're in Sago, West Virginia" out of every break as he anchors from the scene, which isn't exactly correct. Someone should tell him Sago is really just the name of the road and the mine and the few houses surrounding it.

Everyone's now reporting about these safety violations that I brought up yesterday morning. Officials are way testy about talking about that particular aspect, and I don't blame them. This particular company has actually improved the mine's safety record in the short time they've owned it and the questions will be answered at some point. The company President is doing an amazing job handling reporters during the briefings. I challenged him on a report of "confirmation" that the fire boss' duties were carried out (how do you know, when you've had no contact with the miners). He answered matter of factly and I was satisfied.

It's all very draining. I'm exhausted physically and emotionally. Each press conference, where they jam about a thousand of us into a too-small, make-shift conference room near the coal preperation plant brings little good news. Very little.

What the national media are missing is that this kind of thing strikes a lot of West Virginian's very close to home. This is a tiny state with a large coal industry and it's difficult to find someone who's not in some way connected to the mines, even if there are a few degrees of seperation. I can't tell you how many people I've interviewed in the past year who've said to me "I used to work in the mines," or "my (insert relative here) work(s)(ed) in the mines."

I think this will shake the state and the industry to its core. I take that back. I think it already has shaken the state.

Now, it's time for more sleeping.

(note: I've moved this to the bottom, where it deserves to be. Looking at it now makes my stomach sick)
UPDATE: I just heard, after e-mailing this post: Twelve alive. The church bells are ringing.