Carol reminded me that we hadn't been out in the Airstream since last summer. And we found a campground within 4 miles of Biltmore. And we hadn't been to Maggie Valley or Cherokee either. AND we had an open week before our next trip to the beach.
So, off we went.
An easy drive to Asheville was ended with an infuriating loop around the town while trying to find the campground. We actually drove past the exit, got off and back on three times before we finally found it. But we finally arrived safely and picked a quiet spot overlooking the river.
The next day we took the ten minute drive to the Biltmore.
No picture taking was allowed inside the house, so go back to the top of this page and click on the Biltmore link. It really is amazing what you can do when money is no object. A friend of a friend said that the outrageous, excessive opulence actually made him sick to his stomach and he had to leave before finishing the tour. But as people whose mantra is "Too much is never enough", we LOVED IT ALL. Emily wants to buy the place and move in. I told her we could sell the doublewide and maybe pay for a couple of days maintenance on the house and the remaining 8000 acres.
Emily has discovered the joys of photography. She took many, many wonderful pictures of the vast array of flowers in the gardens. Here are a few -
After touring the house, we went to the "farm". The kids had a good time, but Emily, especially was in heaven visiting with the two retired carriage horses.
There was lots of cool stuff for Andrew to explore, too. Most of the equipment was labeled "antique" this or "antique" that. I'd really prefer "vintage" or just "used" since I remember almost all of this stuff being used back in Delaware County, NY on my cousins' farms.
The world's largest Chia pet
Doc Cudd, a blacksmith who really is an artist. Not only does he make art out of the steel, he plays the anvil as a musical instrument.
Carol had wanted to come to the NC side of the Smokies for Biltmore. But I'd been disappointed in our two trips to the TN side that we hadn't made it to Cherokee and Maggie Valley. Two of my parents best friends lived in Maggie Valley and I had such wonderful memories of Frances and Clayton Alexander, their beautiful home, their hospitality and friendliness to a little boy AND Clayton's trout pond.And many, many trips to Cherokee, LONG before it had a casino !
The Alexanders had traveled with my parents before I was born. Clayton and my Dad were both heavy equipment operators and went wherever the work, living in their trailers. So I guess the Airstream, even the doublewide were already bred into me.
When they stopped traveling in the late 1940's, Frances and Clayton returned to where they were raised near Waynesville, NC. Calyton really didn't want to stop playing with his giant boy toys, so he started a sand and gravel business. It was successful, so he started buying "bottom land" for access to the sand and gravel. A lot of land, pretty cheap because it was just a mountain "holler" miles away from the nearest town. When the area later became known as Maggie Valley, they were sitting on a mountain of money. They sold a lot of it, but kept the mountain behind their house. In the 1960's, the mountains were already completely covered with houses. At night the sparkled like stars. Except for a completely dark section behind their house. Clayton wouldn't sell it because he loved his mountain AND there was his trout pond. Not for fishing, just for enjoying. When we walked up to the pond, he would stop real hard on the bank and the big, beautiful rainbows would come to get fed.
The whole area holds so many wonderful memories for me that I wanted to share them with my new family. Clayton died 20 years or so ago and Frances died a few years ago. I found the road but the house was gone. The heirs had sold everything to a developer. We stopped at the sales office and were told that the house had been razed but the pond was still there.
This is where the house was
After a few minutes of "you can't go back", we drove on to Cherokee. Which had also changed greatly in 40 years. MUCH bigger, noisier, touristy with a casino and big hotels. But there were also new museums that we all really enjoyed.
I especially wanted Carol and the kids to see "Onto These Hills". IT had not changed. Still a truly moving experience. It's an outdoor amphitheater. We heard lots of thunder and saw lots of lightning. But the rains held off.
But it was only early afternoon, VERY hot, and Onto These Hills wasn't until evening. Something else that hadn't changed was the Oconaluftee River. Because many years ago some VERY smart Cherokees decided this river, flowing right through the town was a treasure that had to be saved. So Oconaluftee Islands Park was formed. Many childhood memories again, of my many summer days spent in the Beaverkill River in NY.
We had to be home Friday afternoon because it was their Dad's visitation weekend. I didn't want to worry about truck or trailer problems making us late. So we talked about leaving Asheville Thursday and spending the night someplace closer to Salem. During my travels as a single guy, I had met Garvey Hayes, another single guy in Florida. He wintered there but had a farm in VA where he had put in a few camp sites on Cripple Creek. I dug out his card and called him to see if any spots were available. There were, we went and FELL IN LOVE with the place. Quiet, right on the creek, miles of trails, HORSES, and Garvey and his new bride treated us like long lost friends for life.
The back of Airstream is almost hanging over the creek.
The campground doesn't have insurance for riding, but Emily was happy just to make friends with a new bunch of horses. Garvey said, "Don't let her go inside the fence. The horses would probably stomp her. NOT because they're mean, but because they're so spoiled they act like they're big dogs and they'd knock her down trying to be THE ONE getting all her attention.
And they really did follow her up and down the fence like puppies.
Andrew even enjoyed "visiting" with them
By Thursday evening, Carol and I were saying, "Instead of going home with the Airstream tomorrow, let's just take the kids to their Dad's and come straight back here for a weekend alone together."
So that's what we did. And by the time we were headed home Sunday night, we had decided to leave the Airstream at Cripple Creek for at least a couple of months and go there every chance we got. Weekends with the kids and weekends without the kids.
More wonderful friends and good times, all because I was paranoid about getting home on time.
And did I mention? REALLY GREAT motorcycle riding in every direction!
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