BOONE NORTH CAROLINA

Before leaving Greenville, we decided to go out for breakfast. It was Mother's Day and I had been hankering for pecan waffles with pecan syrup, a fave years back when Shoneys Restaurants could be found on every highway throughout the South.
I've seen  two Shoneys on the road.  Since the Waffle House chain is dominant-my thought was it must have replaced the Shoneys.
A Shoneys it ain't. Pecan waffles? Yes, but no pecan syrup, that wonderful warm concoction with real butter that sent your taste buds to heaven.

It was a cramped place, efficiently run. Jim noted he hadn't been in a "holler" restaurant in years. Holler as in shouting the order in waitress lingo across the floor fifty feet away to the cook. Saves steps. You could see every bit of the operation from the coffee crew, egg man, the dish washing cycle, and carry outs. The plastic menu is limited. Their bragging coffee has a ground bean toughness to it, but the waffle wasn't short on pecans. Its what you call a "cover the basics" kind of place. Get 'em in and get 'em out. What it lacked in atmosphere, we concluded, it made up in cut-to-the-bone economy. You don't leave hungry or broke, but you can't say you really enjoyed the experience.
From Greenville, we drove to Boone, N.C. Good historical records prove Daniel Boone actually hunted in this area named for him. Its a hilly town and it took us several try's before we found a suitably level parking spot for the night. One of the "famous" Mast General Stores, made notable by Charles Kuralt in his Backroads television program, proclaimed a Mast Store to be a "destination."

They specialize in folksy goods, along with the usual general store fare. The wide plank wooden floors are to envy.  I could have taken every one of these chickens back home to replace those the hawk ate way back in 1989.

I couldn't believe the old fashioned coke machine where you open up the lid and reach in for a bottle. The inside machinery that scooted the bottles along was missing, but it gave me a sweep of nostalgia. Don't we all just love things that are quaint?

It had two floors with everything from toys to shoes but my favorite item, (oh that it could have fit in the motor home), was this comfortable, beautiful rocking chair.

Log cabins also fill me with nostalgia because I lived in one until I was nine years old.  This is supposed to be a picture of my brother but the cabin shows pretty well in the background.
 Boone Ridge had a slew of log cabins from different eras. All are authentic domiciles from the area moved to this one spot to be saved from the inevitable forces of nature.

 

I never had to chop wood, but I remember all too clearly the old outdoor toilets, my dad butchering chickens and pigs, hauling water from the well . My job was picking up chips around the chopping block to be used for kindling. Reliving the past is fun occasionally as long as I don't ever have to actually live it.

THE BEST LAID PLANS

Traveling as much as my partner and I do is an art. Finding a dump station precisely when needed, getting your vehicle needs attended to, planning events during hours and on days facilities are actually open. Finding recycling centers is particularly challenging. Then, you assume the weather man is correct and that Google Earth maps are accurate...Yes, its much like being a detailed travel agent, except its done on the fly day by day.

  For instance, Friday night we sat at the table above, in the Great Smokies National Park, sweltering in the heat, with a cool wash cloth across our shoulders and a beer wrapped in a foam holder wishing it would cool down. Our plan was to hike the Roaring Fork nature trail Saturday with a cooler weather prediction and only a 20% chance of rain. Except, it poured during the night, our campsite was lush and wet, the grasses and bushes as high as our chest. Neighbors hung out their ground cloths and tent to dry.

 We decided to move on and get the oil changed in the motor home in nearby Newport before getting up on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

We never did figure out what went wrong and why the route set by Google led us astray from 321 to 70, or maybe it was the highway department. But, the rolling hills of the Tennessee countryside were green and peaceful with little traffic on a Saturday, and I just took pictures of old barns as Jim trustfully kept driving and driving and driving.

It was definitely the long way around. But, we reached green, green, Greenville. Its also Green County, TN. It was late and we didn't get to see the Andrew Johnson home or museum. He was President after Lincoln, a southerner who didn't exactly settle things after the Civil War as equally as Lincoln had planned to.
The barns ARE lovely. I couldn't always get them in passing, but they were numerous and different.

Of course, its Jim who finds us a safe place to stay at the end of the day and unhooks the Bronco and sets us up on  level ground. He knows where to shop and what stations he can get into and out of for petrol.  He researches the way before us and  gets us ready for the next destination or activities if there are interesting things to do and see on the way.  He never moves without checking his tires and considering our safety. Its an art. So, I salute Jimmy the Artist, and my three daughters on Mother's Day.
(I know he'll laugh loudly when he learns I consider him and artist.)

GREAT SMOKY MOUNTAINS NATIONAL PARK And APPALACHIAN TRAIL

The Great Smoky Mountains is an old place of rounded, worn peaks. The slow moving glaciers that flattened and scraped the areas of North America above this range, forced wildlife, plants and seeds south where they settled and adapted into this temperate climate. I recognized  trees, bushes, and wild flowers from my native Michigan, considered a cold climate, next to magnolias, tulip trees, spice bush, (below) and orchids typical of southern climes. 

 The Last of The Mohicans was filmed in the Great Smoky Mountains. Grandfather rock formations, giant waterfalls, rippling streams, miles of hovering smoky vistas, the stunning scenery from that movie hung in my dreams for many years. The Great Smoky Mountains National Park was NOT that place, however.  It was filmed in these mountains far south of where we are parked. Rent the movie if you can't go. We are going to watch it again.

You can have one foot in North Carolina and the the other in Tennessee at the New Found Gap Dedication Center at the summit.
A surprise for me was that the Appalachian Trail goes right through the park. I have a friend who is walking the trail in segments, a little bit each year, and she is in her 80's.  What a legacy we have in this park. Jim and I walked the trail into each state for a short distance and happened upon John Reingold from Georgia hiking up from Fontana Dam, about halfway through the park.

Young and strong, he carries his pack with everything to eat, sleep, and drink. It took him four days to get this far. On this morning, he had already walked for over 4 hours.

The trail is rough and tumble, steep and narrow in places, trees fall on the trail. Its closed in two spots during the winter. We were pleased to find it alive with wildflowers as we wandered deeper and deeper into the canyon.

This park happened because people with foresight were alarmed at the fast disappearing landscape as commercial loggers stripped millions of miles clean of everything in sight. Congress authorized the park in 1926 and established it in 1934 after donations,  private groups, and the States of Tennessee and North Carolina raised enough funds to buy the lands needed to make it possible.

The wonder of science... In 1983 the Great Smoky National Park was recognized as a World Heritage Site and an International Biosphere Reserve because of its amazing diversity. The park visitors center museum  at the Sugarland entrance has stunning portraits of insects, butterflies, and flowers. The diverse animal life, birds and plants are showcased as "live" specimens in dioramas.

 To see all 45 pictures you can see my album at the link below:

CHEROKEE NATION

Pyramids were part of Cherokee Indian culture, here in North America. A part of history that somehow passed me by. I'm always gratified to learn something and the Museum of the Cherokee Indian, in the town of Cherokee, North Carolina, has preserved the past of a glorious people. In one part of the museum, a voice, next to a map, reads out a long list of the tribes that were totally obliterated by measles, small pox, with help from yellow fever and malaria.
Why a Cherokee Museum in North Carolina? This is where the Trail of Tears started. And, in these same hills, those brave people who escaped forced exile from their lands hid, multiplied, and eventually fought in the white man's courts to retain reasonable rights to some of their lands.

 All cultures have pottery and basketry of some kind. This huge pot stood two feet tall.The openhearted, welcoming Cherokee supplied settlers with needed goods, pots, baskets, meat and corn. The Brits sold them inferior guns for deer hides and corn because they feared the robust Cherokee could over power them. They took so many hides, 79,000 the first year, 125,000 in subsequent years, that the deer population declined and the trade came to an end. Eventually the Cherokee became dependent on white people as their culture adapted to guns, sophisticated clothing, and white man's ways.

Their leaders agreed to adapt. They gave up their language, attended white man's schools, adopted their religion and signed numerous peace treaties. Nothing helped. They were gathered up like cattle and exiled anyway. Chief Yonagusta commented thus: "The bible seems to be a good book. Surprising that the white man, who have had it so long, are not better."

 This Cherokee man, who was taken to England to meet the King along with two companions commented after a long, tiring, repetitive sermon by Minister Martin. "We understand that good is up and bad is down we don't need to hear anymore."

Sequoyah is probably the most famous Cherokee for his invention of a written syllabary, alphabet and language of the Cherokee people.
The museum has the world best collection of artifacts. It publishes a journal and has educational outreach programs. More information can be found at:  www.cherokeemuseum.org

GOOD ENOUGH FOR THE VANDERBUILTS

If I were looking for a perfect place to live, a medium sized town with great cultural amenities, good restaurants, home crafted beer, an active arts population, sitting at the entrance to the Great Smokey Mountains and the Appalachian Trail?  I'd choose Asheville, North Carolina.

The Montford district, part of a hillside, beautiful homes, fabulous church, the St. Lawrence Basilica, sort of reminds one of the Montmartre district of Paris. Here you can play speed chess in the park and lose your money quickly.

It has a Wall Street, a Flat Iron building like San Francisco, an old timey Woolworths and Kresge Store, and a Do It Yourself Doggie Wash? Yup!

Old fashioned phosphates and banana splits can still be purchased here at the counter in Woolworths.

This sculpture points the way to the Flat Iron Building, just so you won't miss it. But the River Arts District really blew me away.

 Marston Blow makes singing bowls. A former light tech and tent worker for Cirque du soliel, pottery isn't as lucrative, but money isn't everything.

A painter of steel. If its rusty its better and the music must play or the paint won't flow.

The Iron Handmaidens worked a piece of jewelry with an arc welder on a wooden anvil, next to a real anvil.

Wonderful, innovative potters abound, here, Above is the work of Matt Jacobs. It was the iron work that blew me away.

Even Jim was impressed with this fence that continued on for another 20 feet.
Now, none of this was here when George Vanderbuilt came to town. He loved the area so much he bought 125,000 acres of privacy for himself and settled in. In an unheard of policy of the times, George Vanderbuilt paid black workers the same wages as white workers. He built a church and a school for blacks in town without a social movement to do so. What a guy, huh? A great town and great people.
Carl Sandburg lived nearby. It became the home of the writer O'Henry, William Jennings Bryan, Thomas Wolf, who tragically died at age 38, and other notables. Hey, if its good enough for the Vanderbuilts?
This is a seriously lovely place to visit and live. 
Websites for some of the artists I met and talked too:
 www.dyedinthewooldesigns.com , Naomi Diamond Rogers, who learned to mesh wool with silk and makes shimmering scarves and other fabric art.
 Eric Knoche, forms huge architectural type pottery pieces in a wood fired kiln. No web site but watch for this young man to become famous. Very different work.
www.mattcjacobs.com does many raw, unglazed pieces like the hut with houses on top above.
Iron Maiden Studios no web site. Here is where the iron fencing and many, many other exciting pieces are made by a consortium of artists. Look for Tres Martin and Rheta Grimsley Johnson at frederickarts.homestead.com. And potter Julie Covington

I intend to blog more of this wonderful iron work another day.

ON THE ROAD AGAIN.

I'm on the road again and couldn't resist a last picture of wildflowers as I left Murphys. This rock pile along the new by-pass sprouted natives and may never be as prolific again. Some people don't realize that Cal-Trans actually seeds these natives when they disturb the native soil. A nice idea.

Got to taste a new beer at my daughter's before she took me to the airport. Yeah, good stuff. Black Toad. Love the fun names of all the new wines and beers.

Its nice to be back in my motor home "office" and reunited with my partner. He picked me up in beautiful Asheville, N.C. A change of planes at Houston put me in a B127 express jet without enough room for all of the carry-ons. Thus my camera ended up in the belly of the plane. The view from the small jet window over the mountains and lakes and fields was picturesque...but no camera. By the way, Continental Airlines served us a meal, unexpected but welcome. Just thought you should know.
The Great Smokey Mountains, a long time goal of mine, is next on our itinerary. 

A FOX IN THE COMPOST

This little fox had a partner and they both decided to visit my compost bin about 7:00 a.m. this morning. They are quick as shadows and blitzed out of sight whenever they detected a slight movement from the window. I did manage to get this little one before she dashed for the brush, ears alert, listening for danger. I guess I'll never get beyond the thrill of seeing something wild and beautiful in my yard.

Of course, that includes flowers. These tulips are just opening and stepping into their rightful beauty. Since I have only days left in Murphys before I hit the road again, I can enjoy these lovelies. Along with the bleeding hearts and columbine in the garden.

I've had several iris bloom and hopefully I'll get to see my favorites come out before I leave.