Blowing Rock

Just took a trip out to Blowing Rock, North Cack.  It's a small town in the Appalachian Mountains, about 3 hours due west of Raleightown.  Been meaning to get out here for a while now, especially since it's an easy drive and a beautiful place.

The first day there we checked out the old town, which spans for about a quarter mile. 

On Saturday, our plan was to head to Grandfather Mountain, about 15 miles southwest of us, but upon arriving we learned that those dirtbags wanted like 20 bucks just to drive up to the ledge, so out of spite we carried on down highway 221.  The drive up there is pretty wild.  You are winding up a mountain at ridiculous angles.  I couldn't take my car out of third gear or I'd lose ground.  The bends are so sharp that you just sort of hope that there aren't any cars in the opposite lane, and if they are, you just hope they know what the hell they're doing--there isn't a guardrail-- just air, and a steep drop.  This kind of thing doesn't bother me much, but Jensen made a few comments about it, and that was all I needed to jerk the wheel toward the edge every few minutes to keep her on her toes.

Then we hit the Blue Ridge parkway.  This was the first time I'd ever been on it.  It's known for being the place to ride if you've got a motorcycle, but being that I sold mine 5 years ago, the Sube would have to do.  The Blue Ridge parkway isn't some big highway; it's a small, narrow two lane road, with a max speed limit of 45, and it winds up and down through mountain passes.  Perfect for enjoying the view.

We stopped a few places to check things out, and found hiking trails that led to some pretty cool views.  Here's one that looked out over miles of trees and hills:

  Down the road another 15 miles or so we found some trails that led out to a big waterfall.  It's a shame it wasn't warmer out- the water was crystal clear.

 




The Cherokees called these mountains "The Great Blue Hills of God." 

At night the moon just hung right out over the sky, like it was dangling from a string, just above my head.  When it came out the second night, I planned on taking a pic of it, but forgot.  In retrospect, I'm glad I forgot:  camera phones weren't meant to capture this, and it would never do it justice.  Now I don't know about what goes on in others' minds when they look up and see this, but if conditions are clear and quiet, I always think back to what things must have been like before "modern" civilization and science--before we knew what we know now.  I can see how people conjured up ideas of inanimate objects having life.  In fact, sometimes it's easy for me to convince myself that the moon is not just a rock, but a living thing, coming out to watch over everything each night.

This trip, I also discovered the Mountain Limp - it's the often subtle, slight limp or dragging of just one's leg, while everything else looks completely normal.  Ever see some hilljack yocal walk with a slight gimp?  Well that's it.  I saw a few of them, but the best example was the one lugging himself into Food Lion in town with his larger-than-life son, and let me tell you, his son may have had the most graceful Mountain Limp on this side of the Carolinas. I didn't think to take a picture of it, but I guess that would be rude.  Then again, so is talking about it.

Once in a while, it's great to get outta town and not have it be a big weekend of partying and debauchery.  When this Sunday came around, I was actually recharged, instead of vise versa.

On a side note I just ordered my hop rhizomes; I'll be growing my own hops for my craft brews this year.

Catching Up

It's been a busy few months to say the least.  I'm a creature of habit, and I got out of the habit of jotting things down, so there's been a long gap here.
I had some photos laying around from when I disappeared from society to the Outer Banks in November.  I didn't get a full two weeks in like I wanted, but I've making up for it now in February.

Floating back to November~~~

Whenever I get the idea that I want to head to Nags Head, I have to go immediately.  I was coming off of a weekend of total debauchery, the most of any wedding on the circuit the last few years, then had to run a local seminar for work, drive to Atlanta for another meeting, then drive back the following day.  I arrived back in Raleigh around 9PM, and almost left for Nags Head at 10.  I decided to have patience, and bumped it back a few hours to 4:30AM.

Leaving early in the morning is practically a ritual for me.  It's only a three hour drive through eastern North Cackalack.  By the time daylight breaks, I only have an hour to go.  That way I get to see the very first light onward, and I'm heading due east the whole time, right into it.  Ever been to Eastern NC?  Well the whole damn place looks like this:

Pretty much nothing but soybean fields and factory farms.














Nags Head never disappoints in the off-season; chilly, windswept, and grey.

Having the Jack Dog along is a must.  Mattafack, I don't even know if I'd want to come out here for these trips if he couldn't.  He goes everywhere with me here.  At night he's on full guard and if he hears a bump or loud rattle from the wind, I hear a low-pitched, deep growl, or warning bark.  Here's the large guy doing his thing by the water.

That's his expression for being really happy...the same expression he uses for every other emotion, including frustration, anger, contentment, deep thought, exhaustion, and that one where you know there's absolutely nothing going on in his head.

Each sunrise is a fresh start.  Everything is quiet and calm--not even the wind is up yet.  It's the time when all in the world seems innocent, as if it hasn't yet been corrupted by the chaos of everyday life. 

 
Anyway I paddled out and caught a few waves.  I'm usually out with others, which I love doing, but being alone is fine as well.  Sometimes it's eerie being out in the middle of winter, without even another soul on the beach- the water is cold, often rough, and foamy.  If anything it makes me appreciate the warmer months, where I'm not confined to a wetsuit, and I don't get ice cream headaches every time I duck a wave.
I always tell my coworkers that if I'm paddling out early in the day and not on the 4PM conference call, that mother nature has won.

At night, I let Jack out and while he roams around, looking for the perfect place to take care of his business, I stare up at the sky.  If you look up here on a clear night, you forget about how cold it is.  I had no idea there were even that many visible stars.  It's like stepping out into a theater.  You can see the milky way streak across the sky.  There's something very humbling about the night sky without light pollution.  I'm not kidding when I say it nearly knocks the wind out of me.  I could sit out there and watch it every night for the rest of my life.

I've been trying to figure out the feeling I get when I'm here, and I think I'm finally onto it.  My family has had this place since I was 13 years old, which is over half of my life.  Homes, aside from being shelters, store memories.  Each time I'm here, I can practically see a film reel of the last 14 years of my life.  Not so much in terms of vacations or time spent here, but more so the chapters of my life that they represent.  As strange as it sounds, I was talking about this same concept before with my friend Rollen, who also plays guitar.  We were talking about how difficult it is to sell old guitars, even if you don't play them much.  They all represent different time periods of my life.  I've only sold one of them, and it was to my best friend's dad.  Even that was difficult.  I've got acoustics laying around everywhere at home.  As your boy Bill Shakespeare might say, "though this be madness, yet there is method in it."


I found this picture from home over Christmas.  I had to put it up somewhere, but figured it would be trashy to post on facebook.  As you can see, it's ok for a man to wear an apron, as long as it's a badass apron that gets your point across.