Journeys

A month
July 13, 2015

One month ago, we left home to be with Chris' parents. Dad's deteriorating health caused us to defer other anticipated stops along the way in order to get there as quickly as possible. We are so grateful we were able to do that and could spend some quality time with him before his passing.

Last night, we sadly bade Mom farewell, leaving her in the care of her other two children who are staying for a bit longer.

Our time in Polk County, North Carolina passed primarily at Mom & Dad's house, sometimes sleeping there, often driving back and forth between there and our RV in Hendersonville, leaving "home" early and returning for a late bedtime.

After the sibs arrived, we were able to occasionally detour to enjoy a short Sunday drive, as we were prone to call a vehicle wander in the olden days. What a treat that we encountered fun people everywhere we went.

Coon dogs, Saluda grade . . .

On one of those occasions, we left our usual Interstate route and drove through the tiny town of Saluda, pulling in to downtown under "Coon dog day" banners, their annual summer celebration. We were not there during the actual occasion, but spent an hour admiring Thompson's, touted to be the oldest grocery in North Carolina, and having a burger at the adjoining Ward's Grill.

The building and store are quaint - old-worldly - functioning as a grocery with a butcher counter, and added touches to make tourists happy. The most enjoyable part was a long conversation with the owner, Clark Thompson, of the original family that founded the establishment.

He resides in Florida and restores historic buildings, so when he became proprietor of Thompson's, it was logical that he would take on its refurbishment in order, he told us, that it didn't get "boogered up".

Saluda is another in a line of newish towns like Tryon and Landrum that were established when the railroad was built through there in the 1870s. Saluda's additional claim to fame is the Saluda grade, the steepest standard gauge railroad grade in the United States. The line is now out of service.

I read an interesting segment from my hopefully trusty source, Wikipedia: "Because of accidents involving downgrade runaway trains in the late 1880s, the then Southern Railway built two runaway safety spur tracks. These were originally manned junctions, which were always switched to a 60-foot pile of earth, which could stop downgrade runaway trains. Only upon hearing a whistle signal from the downgrade train would the signalman manning the spur junction throw the switch to keep the train on the main line."

This house is on Church Street; I cleverly surmise that it previously was the church.

Tryon's horse . . .

Saluda brags about the steep railroad grade; Tryon's symbol is a toy horse on wheels. No, I can't explain it, either, but there ya go. The first one was crafted in 1916 at Tryon Toy Makers. Besides the large economy size version downtown, toy horses grace all manner of Tryon items. I even have one in my home on a throw given to me by Mom W.

Tryon is something of a horsie area: the town and Polk County in general are sure to experience big changes with the advent of the $100 million Tryon International Equestrian Center and luxury resort now a'building.

More than toy horses, 250 years ago, the area saw American colonists settling the wilderness and interacting with the native peoples. One reminder of those times, the block house is not open to the public. Evidently, nothing remains of the actual building, not overly surprising. I am fascinated to think of the courageous types who ventured here in those long-ago days, and wish I knew who it was who built and lived in that structure.

Quoting: "(The Block House) was built about 1756, as a dog trot log cabin, with two rooms separated by an open passage. In 1942, the blockhouse was moved from South Carolina into North Carolina to its present site, about 300 yards from its original location. Following its move, the building was remodeled, enlarged, and embellished. The blockhouse marked the western end of the original boundary line between North and South Carolina established in 1772. The boundary line was remeasured in 1813, and a marker placed at the site in 1815."

I have ancestors who were in North Carolina during those days. Did they know about the states and borders and developing colonial governments? It would seem likely . . . oh, to travel through time and experience that!

Sidney Lanier . . .

For at least a zillion times, we have driven past a historical marker in the nearly non-existent town of Lynn on our way to Tryon. For a zillion times minus one, I have thought to stop there; this time I insisted on it and now my curiosity is really piqued.

The sign informed us that Sidney Lanier died in the really lovely house there. Lanier was a poet, which I knew, although until I went into the Lanier Library in Tryon, I had no idea how prolific he was, nor did I know anything else about him.

Online I have found a photo of the house he supposedly died in, and it most assuredly is not the one I photographed, so now I wonder which is correct or if the old house was destroyed to be replaced by the charming residence at the site of the sign.

When I began to read about Lanier, I was astounded! He died of tuberculosis at the age of 39, but he accomplished more in those short years, many of them fraught with illness, than most of us do in twice the time. A most interesting gentleman he appears to be; I'm anxious to learn more about him.

I'm wondering if these steps to the Lanier property fell out of use when the automobile usurped the horse & buggy conveyances that would have pulled up in front.

Chick-fil-A . . .

Another wayside stop was precipitated by hunger. Lunchtime was upon us with no food in the truck, so when I spied a Chick-fil-A, we opted to try that fast-food emporium for the first time. One spicy chicken sandwich later, we had swapped stories with the very upbeat manager who viewed us as some sort of anomaly because we had never before passed through the doors of such as that.

A sort of Christmas gift exchange ensued after which we happily departed with coupons galore and our new friend, Joel, had one of Chris' Headwaters Dawning CDs.

Greenway . . .

We managed to fit in very few walks during the four weeks - just a couple around the neighborhood - but enjoyed one jaunt away along Vaughn Creek. I can't help but marvel at the expanses of greenery in these mountains; settlers have had to carve out their homesteads and be ever vigilant to keep the growth at bay.

That vine on the left was only one of many that grow to tree-trunk size in those parts.

I trust that the resident of this make-shift shelter got out before the kudzu took over.

Walking is not possible except where passages are kept open; this one came to an abrupt halt where the creek had been routed through a humongous concrete tunnel, evidently constructed in 1943 for a reason we could not discern.

Knee tree . . .

Along the way, at a place where a tributary stream flowed into Vaughn Creek, we spotted what we think is a knee tree. These were markers made by long-ago Indians to indicate preferred direction of travel or to point out a good campsite, optimum river ford or other important feature.

They were created by tying a sapling down to cause it to remain horizontal before the trunk turned upward again.

Kudzu & goats . . .

When speaking about foliage here, the subject of kudzu, that imported viney menace, is typically introduced. Cousin Will informs me that the plant grows at a rate of three feet per day. When in its vicinity, we agreed that an appropriate conversation should go like this: "Kudzu! Run!!!"

Entrepreneurs have introduced an ecologically friendly method of kudzu eradication - goats. The business owners deliver their herd to the overrun location, install electric fence around the perimeter and leave them for the amount of time required to clear the landscape.

A dog accompanies the goats to protect them, not totally sure from what: I don't think a bear would be impressed by its presence. While I was photographing the herd, the dog completely ignored me when I talked to it; however, when a couple of bicyclists stopped for a look-see, he barked at them non-stop until they left.

Ever the goofballs . . .

Art & moonshine . . .

On numerous trips to the parents' house, we passed a shop with intriguing artwork installed on the outside wall. Finally, I declared we must stop to inspect it, and it developed into a most delightful diversion.

The shop was the Jocelyn Davis Gallery, a marvel of multi-faceted creativity, that lured us in via astonishing pottery tiles artfully crafted to tell a poetic fantasy tale in words and pictures.

Jocelyn pointed out the many small touches to the artwork that were contributed by family & friends, making the installation a collaborative effort and contributing to its charm.

When Jocelyn spotted us admiring the astonishing display, she came out and read aloud the entire poem so that we could follow the story on the picture tiles. A charming woman, Jocelyn is a west-coast transplant married to a local fellow, John, whose family hearkens back to those mountains for a number of generations.

And that leads me to moonshine. Downstairs of the gallery is John's Tryon Back Door Distillery, a fascinating operation as a small-scale crafter of bourbon and moonshine, made as much as possible with locally grown grains and with his own spring water.

Three years in, John has just bottled 26 cases of moonshine and has an equal quantity ready, awaiting only the final iteration of Jocelyn's design for his label. I taste tested the 90-proof product and deemed it worthy.

Either of the enterprises warrants a full feature-length story; with a bit more ambition and available time ample for the task, I would have loved to write it.

Our dear friends, John & Melissa, accommodated our full schedule to join us for lunch and our almost-annual photograph.

Birds . . .

We did no birding whilst we were North Carolina residents; however, we have a trip list in the works containing those we couldn't help but notice. Our next stop will be a whole new ball game. New identifications thus far include: mourning dove, American crow, robin, ruby-throated hummingbird, Carolina wren, red-tailed hawk, white-breasted nuthatch, eastern wood peewee, Carolina chickadee, blue jay, tufted titmouse, American goldfinch, winter wren (a life bird for us), and a startling pileated woodpecker that swooped across in front of us as we were walking down the drive and then showed up back at the house with antics for all to watch.