We visited our friend Mary last weekend at her mountain home in Linville, North Carolina. It was a wonderful trip, relaxing and invigorating at the same time. I love the mountains. There is a peace there you will not find anywhere else. The reds, yellows, purple and oranges are an impressionist’s dream. I think we hit the leaves at just about the perfect time. A local gentleman selling firewood told us that due to the unseasonably warm temperatures, the leaves were peaking a little later than usual.
Mary took us into Blowing Rock, a wonderfully funky little art community which I definitely would like to spend some more time exploring. She also took us into Boone, Valle Crucis and Banner Elk. For me, however, the pièce de résistance was a ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway.
I love driving in the mountains. The curves, hills and views are unlike anything else. Of course, a lot of it depends on the vehicle you are driving. You do not want to take a 2000 Lincoln Continental into the mountains. Trust me on that one. Something small and quick, now you’re talking. A mile down the parkway and I was longing for my ’99 Cabrio. We saw plenty of Mini Coopers, Miatas and Porsches, and Mary’s Mercedes Crossover handled the hills and curves beautifully. There were also motorcycles… LOTS of motorcycles. And, all of the bikes appeared to be operated by riders with common sense and courtesy. Not like the Knuckleheads on I-20 and I-285.
I had heard about the Blue Ridge Parkway, but really did not know anything about it. Believe it or not, I have led somewhat of a sheltered life. Now, as soon as the laughter subsides, I will elaborate. In my lifetime, I have not traveled very much. I have lived in Georgia my whole life, and up until I met Jackie I had never been to Savannah. We went to the Indy 500 a few years ago. That was the first time I had been further north than Tennessee. I have been to the U.K. three times, the Bahamas twice. I went to Mexico once, and that was enough. I spent a lot of time in Dallas, Texas growing up, and that is pretty much it. I have never been to our Nation’s Capitol. I have never seen Maine, Alaska or Rock City. These are all things on my Bucket List.
And now added to The List is driving the Blue Ridge Parkway. It runs for over 450 miles across 29 counties in North Carolina and Virginia. The picture here, borrowed from good old Wikipedia, is of Grandfather Mountain and is part of the Parkway we traveled.
There are some parts of the world you simply have to see from the ground level. Route 66 comes to mind, although a lot of it is vanishing. Mt. Rushmore, The Grand Canyon and The Hoover Dam seem to me to be things that you simply cannot fully grasp their majesty unless you are standing right in front of them. Another of my Bucket List items is to take the train to Washington. D.C. I think it has something to do with missing out on the School Patrol Trip when I was twelve. Jackie once asked me, “Were you a Patrol?” I busted out laughing. “Me?? No, I was one of the kids the Patrols were always yelling at,” I replied.
My dream vacation, however, is fairly simple. I would like for us to fly into Boston and catch a Red Sox game at Fenway. Then, rent a car and drive up through New England to Maine. Stay in the B&B’s along the way. Talk with the locals and take in the fare. Really experience the beauty of the country. Take a couple of weeks so nothing is rushed. Follow one route up and another one back. A Southern Boy and Belle in The Green Mountains… Still Cruisin’! –J.
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