Uncivilization: A Million Fiery Diamonds

I didn't start the day looking for anything spectacular. When Horace Lee Long is around though, spectacular is usually close by. Horace is a traveling artist in his fifties whom I met last spring. We became instant "old friends" and already have a few adventures under our belt.

This particular Wednesday, I had promised to take Horace around to talk to A few people about buying his art. He was also interested in finding an old mill or covered bridge suitable for his next painting. We got up early and left before breakfast.
Horace is one of those people who follows feelings like an eagle follows the wind, and you can never tell when he might change his mind. Before I knew it we were on interstate 26 heading west. "Something tells me we should go this way," he said prophetically. There's not much I enjoy more than a day of rambling in the mountains towards an unknown destination, so I gladly tagged along.

We stopped at a small cafe outside of Hendersonville, NC called Dixie's Diner and had breakfast. Horace asked the waitress about covered bridges and soon they were discussing his art. He had recently finished a painting of a bridge, and I told him he should bring in to show her. Before we left everyone in the restaurant stopped by our table to see the stunning piece.

I had not paid attention to the temperature earlier, but we stepped out of Dixie's into a frigid huff of air. Covering my ears with my toboggan, I looked up at the grey sky with a moment of mistrust in the weather man who forecast a cold front to arrive the next day along with a few flurries.

Horace asked where we should go. I told him if I had only one day to spend in the area, I would head through the Pisgah Forest up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. "Let's go," he said and we went. We stopped at Looking Glass Falls and Horace began to sketch.

Looking Glass Falls is right on the side of the road, so a bit of the wildness is lost but it still is a uniquely exotic spot. The Davidson River cuts left into a massive rock then turns at a slight angle back to the right as it falls about eighty feet into a dark pool. On the other side of the pool the river cuts back to the left again as mist from the cascade blasts up to thirty feet downstream. Lush, green moss drapes the wet, black rocks adding a fantastical effect. Looking closely at Horace's sketch, I noticed something about the falls I had never seen before. He was shading the water as if it were falling in a spiral. I glanced back at the falls and sure enough, the odd angle of the rock was causing to giant streams of water to twist. The artists keen eye saw through the white water illusion.

I snapped out of my amazement as saw Horace's hands trembling. It was freezing. We both marveled at the ten degree drop in temperature over the last half hour. Horace packed up his sketch pad and vowed to buy a postcard to finish his picture of the falls. We headed up the mountain.


Looking Glass Falls

When we reached the Parkway, I had lost all faith in the weather man. Big black clouds hovered over the mountain tops with the sun battling to shine through them. Neither one of us expected what we saw as we drove north towards Graveyard Fields. If we had one of us would have brought a camera.

The clouds rubbed across the trees of the high mountains, leaving frozen droplets on the tips of every limb. As we came around a curve, a patch of the glazed frasiers stood between us and the resurgent Sun. The result was a view of a lifetime. A million fiery diamonds beckoned us onwards. I was instantly happier.

A few minutes later it began to snow. Tiny, powdery flakes swirled across the road onto the rocks and into the rhododendron. We walked, no actually we ran down to the lower falls at Graveyard Fields. Out of breath from the high altitude romp Horace flopped down on a soft bed of moss. "It's amazing what this can do to rejuvenate you," he exclaimed as he leapt to his feet and tore off down the trail again.

By the time we got back to Horace's car the ground was white. On the way home the snow was heavy. Driving was treacherous, but we were in high spirits as we watched the quarter sized flakes zooming in front of the headlights towards the windshield. We were warping through the stars.

Horace left for his home in Texas the next morning and he gave me a print of one of his latest paintings "Eagle Harbor Lighthouse." He was supposed to stay longer and I was sad to see him go as usual, but like an eagle, Horace soars wherever the wind takes him, and you can never tell when he might change his mind.

Uncivilization

The following essay is the introduction article from a column I wrote in my college newspaper titled Uncivilization. I will post some of my favorites from this collection and then revive the column for Carolina Wild.

Uncivilization

I wish I could have seen the mist settle in the laurels of the Blue Ridge Mountains before the settlers came. For those who were there to bear witness, the sight must have been glorious, mysterious, amazing, ancient and epic all rolled into one emotion I like to call uncivilization. Now you can shell a flea easier than you can direct a gaze that fails to fall upon a sign of humans.

I was raised below the Stone face of Tryon Peak, an ancient Appalachian knob that over looks the old Cherokee hunting paths in Polk County. As a boy I tramped along on ginseng hunts with my grandfather. We would wade through the hollows and clamor across the rocks and ridges in search of the healing plant. If we were lucky we'd stumble upon an arrowhead. Once I found one, lying uncovered in the woods. I wondered if the arrow found its target. Did it strike a rabbit, a deer, a man? Or did it hum through the forest falling harmlessly to the ground where it lay for two hundred years?

Our fingers worked gently to free the ginseng roots. The mossy scent of the freshly broken soil filled our heads, and the last hint of sunlight glinting off the flakes of mica reminded our stomachs that Granny's biscuits were already rising.

My father was a wood carver, a craftsman, a true mountain man in every sense. He was tough enough to split firewood without gloves because he liked digging out splinters, and he was gentle enough to carry a daddy longlegs outside instead of squashing it. Dad could find an old piece of wood that looked like nothing at all, carve out a cardinal, paint it, put it in a tree; and you would surely glance at it now and then to see had it flown away.

Dad loved the laurel thickets. I cannot begin to imagine how many times the two of us have hopped rocks up a white water stream and crawled through the tangled branches in search of the perfect walking stick. It's still out there. I'm glad we never found it - he knows where it is now.

Waterfalls draw me into the woods. The Native Americans believe that the running water is alive, has a spirit. So maybe it is the shot of Cherokee blood pumping proudly through my veins that gives me the electrified rush of life I catch when stand atop a thundering cascade. Uncivilization.

Uncivilization is what I call the indescribable sense of elation that comes from watching the sun fade behind the mountains in a slow-motion splash of color, unique everyday. Uncivilization can come in the form of a legend passed down by elders, or it may be inhaled with the smoky odor of a wood stove on a crisp winter night. Uncivilization is what I long for when I see a field of red mud where a forest used to be, or condos spoiling a natural view.

Uncivilization cannot be pinned down to a single emotion. Like the shadow of a dry leaf blowing across the road in the glow of headlights, it is a shape- shifter. The old timers understand; and everyone else who has cast a trout line in a cold river, stood in awe of the October leaves or seen a fawn drink from a creek in the snow; they have had at least a twinge of comprehension.

I hope I can capture the essence of Uncivilization with words and pictures, and share with you what the Carolinas have given me. So as the mist settles in the laurels like a ghost, I'll be watching... and writing

Hiking Hobbies

It's hard for me to just hike out into the woods without an agenda. Don't get me wrong I love hiking and I love the woods, but I crave that adventure of looking for something hard to find. My wife and I decided we'd buy some handbooks on trees, fish, mushrooms and even the different types of clouds. (I love clouds) Now, depending on where we decide to hike, we pack one or more of these guides and try to find and identify something we've never seen before.

There are so many different subjects for studying while hiking here in the Carolinas. You may be interested in the stars, birds, rocks and minerals, sea shells; whatever it is pick up a field guide and get started next time you lace up those boots.

How deep you delve into your new hobby is all up to you of course. Most of the time I just prefer to find something unique, then identify it in a guide. My wife, however, goes all out on the trees. When she finds a new leaf, she presses it ( flattening it between the pages of a heavy book) and displays it in a photo album labled with info from her guide. Her tree album and field guide cost just over 20 dollars, so it is not an expensive hobby.


















The National Adubon Society Field Guides are a good place to start. They have a huge index of pictures and info on your subject and where it is located. The only problem I find with the Adubon guides is that the pictures and information are in seperate sections of the book.

That led me to pick up Simon & Shuster's Guide to Mushrooms. I like the way the way this guide has the photos and info blocks right beside one another for quick reference. Mushrooms are tricky enough without having to flip back and forth to identify them. Simon and Schuster's guides are a bit less expensive also.

enature.com is a nice site to jumpstart your hobby if you are having trouble deciding which subject to choose. They offer field guides to just about everything and you can put in your zip code to find out what to look for in your location. I prefer to have a guide on hand while I'm hiking, that's part of the fun; but Enature.com is a wonderful reference tool to add into the mix.

If you have trouble finding a guide try Amazon, you should be able to pick up a used copy easily.