An Essay Review of Wild by Cheryl Strayed

By Dani Halliday, 2016

Cheryl Strayed’s life was thrown for a loop when her mother died. She could not deal with the pain of being alone, that she seemed to be the only one in her family at all distraught, and sought out some unsavory ways to cope with her pain. She cheated on her husband, leading to a divorce (a very amicable one though). She got a new boyfriend, Joe, who got her into using heroine as another escape from reality. Finally, after getting away from Joe, Cheryl found a book on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), and so began her journey to walk the entire thing.

Cheryl was lost in her life and the PCT gave her some direction. Her worries and stresses had a reason and she met others who were going through the same physical journey as her. She was able to do what many thought was impossible for her, yet she proved them wrong. She completed the PCT and found peace with her mother’s death through her journey.


The hike itself was probably my favorite part of the book. It was funny, full of energy, and you could feel her healing throughout her journey. As a woman, I was very interested in her solo hike and her ability to struggle through it alone. Granted, she wasn’t alone. The hikers had her back and she always found people to help her, whether it was giving her a meal, a new book to read, or a ride to the next leg of the trail. All of the hikers had a reason to be on the trail; no one just hikes it just because they can. Cheryl notices immediately that Doug has been through something difficult, but we don’t learn what. Albert, who was hiking with his son, wanted to hike it before he died as a lifelong dream. Having a reason, whether a dream or as an escape, is a main aspect of hiker culture on the PCT.

The hiker culture in this book shows the amount of comradery you can feel with someone whom you’ve never met before. Cheryl felt so much pride when Greg passed her on the trail and already knew her name. It validated her as a true PCT hiker. I loved the aspect of trail names: the Preppies for Doug and Tom, the Statistician for Greg, Matt and Albert were the Eagle Scouts, and Cheryl herself was the Hapless Hiker, due to her lack of experience. She even named her backpack, Monster. The hikers knew it as Monster as well.

One aspect of the hiker culture I was fascinated by was the women on the trail. Stacy and Trina were two women that Cheryl traveled with for a while. There were other women who she met, but they traveled with their husbands/boyfriends. Stacy and Trina hiked together for a while and split up, leaving Stacy to finish by herself. Stacy and Cheryl were very different, and I think that Stacy was more of the “real PCT hiker.” Cheryl was more concerned with how the others viewed her the entire time, while Stacy was focused on the hike. After my first trip abroad, to the Andes Mountains in Peru, I have wanted to hike the whole Inca Trail. I did two days-worth, but the whole thing is something I feel I must do. I don’t know if I could be like Cheryl and do it alone, but I would like to think I would be more like Stacy in how I cared more about the trail and the hike, rather than how I look to the world around me. There is not too much out there about solo female travelers on a rigorous hike. I feel as if the best way to research it is to do it yourself. Maybe I will join their ranks one day.

Cheryl Strayed is not her real name. Yes, she changed her name after her divorce, but Strayed is one that she chose. There is so much symbolism in her name. She had strayed away from her old life and was looking for a new path. The irony of people reading the necklace her friend gave her as “starved” instead of her last name gave it a little humor, but the relevance of her name is significant. Names are of great importance in this book. Cheryl needed to change her name to become a new person after everything she had been through in her pre-PCT life. She had strayed away from who she really was after the death of her mother and needed to find herself once again, and the PCT helped her do that.

Cheryl needed to travel alone so she could really reflect and figure herself out. Being alone does that to you. Being alone in a forest or barren desert must be even more difficult. There is no hiding from yourself when you are alone and Cheryl recognized this. This was a personal journey to prove that she was still capable of accomplishing things and that she could be without her family. She needed to be alone to prove it to, not only the people around her, but more so to prove it to herself.

The overall point of the book is to show how the journey on the PCT healed Cheryl of all of her woes and problems, but this was not the case. Yes, she came to terms with the death of her mother and that she and Paul would remain friends, but nothing else, but Cheryl did not change nearly as much as I had expected. Throughout her journey, she always had to be seen as pretty and desirable to the men she met. She wanted to be one of the PCT hikers, but then she also wanted them to want her sexually. She mentioned her minor sex addiction at the beginning of the book, but she did not grow out of this while on the trail. I expected more from her. At the music festival in Ashland, she immediately got dressed up and found a man to have sex with, whom she would never see again. She brought an entire roll of condoms on the trail with her. Even though the other hikers took them from her, there was no way anybody would have used an entire roll while hiking. At the end of the trail, of course a man came up to her to give her his number, and she never called him. Cheryl had to be desirable all the time, she had to fit in all the time, and she had to have people thinking about her all the time. She did not grow up nearly as much as I had hoped for throughout her journey, which is one huge criticism I have for the book and the author in general.

Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail showed the personal journey and the physical journey that Cheryl Strayed went through on her hike. Four months alone exposed the inner strength that she was unaware that she had. Even though she destroyed her feet, lost almost every one of her toenails, and came out of it flat broke, Cheryl accomplished what many thought was an impossible feat for her. I strive to have this inner strength and the emotional and physical journey that she went through made this a good piece of travel writing worth reading, especially for a young women who feels she may be straying away from who she is.


Chery Strayed, Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, Vintage Books 2012, 315 pages, $15.95

So, You Want to be an Explorer: An Essay Review of Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time by Mark Adams

So, You Want to be an Explorer: An Essay Review of Mark Adams’
Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time

By Molly Spero, 2016

Title: Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time

Author: Mark Adams

Publisher/Date: Dutton, 2012

Length: 1-292

Price: $16 

The Basics: Synopsis

Praised by National Geographic as “a serious (and seriously funny) travelogue,” Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time, Mark Adams ingeniously weaves together three narrative threads – his own travel, Bingham’s parallel journeys, and Spanish colonialism during the Inca Conquest – to answer the question, just what was Machu Picchu? Adams, a magazine editor at a traveling publication follows the path forged by Hiram Bingham III, who is famed for “discovering” Machu Picchu during an expedition into the Andes Mountains of Peru in 1911. A century later, Bingham is recast as a villainous huaqueros, or grave robber, who stole priceless artifacts and claimed undeserved credit for finding the archaeological site. Aware that he had never even slept in a tent, let alone trekked hundreds of miles through the Peruvian forest, Adams entrusted “hard-as-nails” Australian adventurer, John Leivers, to guide him. Adams hikes, climbs, and slogs through the Vilcabama region of Peru to his ultimate destination of Machu Picchu. Armed with a guide, a group of muleteers, Bingham’s journals, and indigenous local farmers (among many others), Adams quests to illuminate the mythology of Machu Picchu.

La Hora Peruana: Peruvian Time

Adams quickly discovers that Peruvian standard time is synonymous for tardiness. La Hora Peruana, Peruvian Time, is “the code, indecipherable to North Americans, by which Peruvians determine the latest possible moment that is acceptable to arrive for an appointment” (42). Hiram III, a man who was so astute about time management that he had designated hours for “reading for fun,” found this to be a particularly annoying cultural phenomenon (223). However, unlike Bingham, I am accustomed to this practice, as my stepmother is from Bolivia. She and my dad sent their wedding invitations with a time 3 hours before the actual ceremony to just her relatives, knowing that stragglers were still expected. All of South America seems to treat time similarly.

The theme of time is ever present throughout the book. While South Americans refuse to be slaves to the clock, North American culture values expediency, always striving to accomplish more in the least amount of time. Hiram Bingham III’s ambitious drive came from his grandfather and father who were missionaries with little to show for their dedication. Bingham learned the importance of self-promotion. Adams summarizes the motivation behind Bingham’s relentless need to explore: “If a man was going to work that hard, the world ought to know about it” (17). Hiram III certainly earned his celebrity by managing his time to the fullest. Between 1911 and 1915, he led three expeditions, finding Machu Picchu and many other major Incan sites. However, this rush to make his mark on the world may have been his undoing.

History is Written by the Victors

Adams asserts, “…Bingham has been accused of exaggerating the details of his expeditions…” (55). Evidence for this is provided in Bingham’s 1948 travelogue, Lost City of the Incas (now a misnomer). This book, the most famous version of the story, romanticized Machu Picchu, creating a classic adventure tale and editing out the boring sections such as catalogs on canned goods. He editorialized the “discovery” narrative by sanitizing the part that gave credit to Lizarraga, a local farmer whose name and the year 1902 were etched into the wall of the Temple of the Three Windows. In addition, he lied about the University of Cusco professor having information about the ruins.

These few instances of many exaggerated half-truths by Bingham should not completely color your opinion of him. Adams points out the difficulty in separating fact from fiction. For example, “virtually all the sources available are Spanish accounts of stories that had already been vetted by the Inca emperors to highlight their own heroic roles. Imagine a history of modern Iraq written by Dick Cheney and based on authorized biographies of Saddam Hussein published in Arabic, and you’ll get some idea of the problem historians face” (47). History involves many narratives – many of which are never recorded – but often a dominant narrative becomes embedded in the culture and society. Bingham’s narrative just happened to emerge as the dominant history, largely due to the romantic embellishments that embodied The Explorer.

Of course, readers realize through Adams’ dry humor that history is about perspective. He understates, “The arrival of Europeans in the New World was not a major cause for celebration in the Andes” (105). We feel embarrassment as we are confronted by the genocide of ancient Incans by Spanish conquistadors. Although discredited as the Lost City of the Incas, Machu Picchu gained its fame from being mythologized like Atlantis, the fantasy underwater kingdom. As an outsider Bingham painted Incan descendants as “savages.” Adams recognizes this cultural clash writing, “The Peruvians crossed barefoot, Bingham later recalled, ‘using their somewhat prehensile toes to keep from slipping,’ a description that managed to compliment their bravery while not-so-subtly comparing them to monkeys” (177). White explorers have historically been known for depicting natives as primitive, wild creatures and Bingham was no exception.

He also fell prey, like many other explorers, to confirmation bias. Adams overtly explains Bingham’s incessant desire to prove his Grand Unified Theory: Machu Picchu was both Tampu Tocco, the location of Incas’ creation myth, and Vilcabama, the Lost City of the Incas. His determination to prove his theory led him to only confirm new evidence that reinforced his theory and reject or ignore evidence that contradicted it. I admit I’ve also fallen into this trap, and I cannot deny that it is convenient. The trouble for Bingham was that proving his theory required exporting artifacts back to the U.S, and there was no way he was leaving them behind.

Claim to Fame: The Controversy of Peru vs. Yale

Bingham led a total of three expeditions to Peru sponsored by Yale University, and later the National Geographic Society. The head of the National Geographic Society, Gilbert Grosvenor, instructed him to bring Incan artifacts back to the U.S. in order to be displayed in the Yale’s museum. However, in response to Bingham’s 1911 exploration, Peru solidified its stance toward its national heritage and prohibited the exportation of artifacts from its country without official consent (204). A compromise was reached, allowing Bingham to export all the artifacts he found back to Yale upon the condition that Peru could demand them back whenever it wanted.

According to Adams, “Anticipating the legal trouble that would arise a century later, Lima’s newspapers portrayed Bingham as a Yankee imperialist looking to steal the country’s treasures and dispatch them to Yale” (208). This negative image would be wielded by former first lady of Peru, Eliane Karp-Toledo, whom Adams interviewed in a Barnes and Noble in suburban Washington, D.C. Controversy stirred when Peru brought Yale to court in 2007 over Yale’s refusal to honor the agreement to return the artifacts to Peru when requested. In Februrary 2008, Karp-Toledo denounced Bingham’s inheritance in an Op-Ed column for The New York Times, claiming the agreement between Peru and Yale reflected Yale’s “colonial way of thinking” (211).

Adams seems to perhaps sympathize a bit with Bingham, writing, “I asked as diplomatically as possible if perhaps Bingham was being used as the whipping boy for other interests” (213). In my mind, Bingham is a victim – albeit not an innocent one – but worthy of sympathy. Yes, I believe it is incorrect and unjust to suggest he “discovered” Machu Picchu since there were three families who were living at the site when he arrived – even he admitted this fact. But, I think the controversy that politicized the hostility between Yale and Peru fifty years after Bingham’s death earns the explorer the benefit of the doubt. Yale declined to honor the agreement, while National Geographic sided with Peru. I’d speculate that Bingham, with his obsession-like desire to be memorialized in history, would have also sided with Peru if it meant his reputation, as a hero, remained intact.

Karp-Toledo responds, “I think the politician in [Bingham] ate the adventurer in him. That’s too bad” (213). After reading her Op-Ed, I agree with her assertion that Yale demonstrated colonialist values by ignoring the request of Peru. Although it does not excuse Bingham and Yale and National Geographic Society for their past actions of exporting Incan artifacts, the early-to- mid 20th century courtesies and political relations were not framed with the same understanding we have today of oppression. Today in the U.S., especially in academia, we are (supposed to be) more sensitive to the colonial/imperialist narrative and are more vocal about recognizing the injustice. For me, I am confused about why Yale resisted returning the artifacts to its rightful country – even if there was not an agreement – when academia espouses cultural literacy and cognizant of types of privilege. Many more sources arose in the aftermath of the controversy and painted Bingham as a villainous scoundrel who walked – no stomped – all over the Peruvian government without a care and focused only his own career ambitions.

“Martini Explorer”

Unlike Bingham, Adams’ goal in exploring Machu Picchu was to follow a path already trekked and to prove to himself that a city man could turn into a “serious traveler” (13). According to John, the hard-as-nails Australian guide, Bingham was a “bit of a martini explorer,” which was “a euphemism for a traveler who fancies himself tough but who really expects a certain level of comfort” (5). Adams considered himself a different type of explorer, “Mr. Travel Guy,” who is dressed in a cheesy safari outfit and forgets the “Wear Two Pairs of Socks Rule” (55).

Adams critiques the commercialized tourism industry through the voice of John, the embodiment of the serious traveler and explorer. John complains to Adams saying, “Travel today is ticking things off: ‘Whew, I’ve done Machu Picchu, now I can get drunk…It’s a real problem now—people don’t know how to enjoy life. They want hedonism, short-term thrills’” (145). Through the trip, Adams realizes that time should be appreciated and as cliché as it is, slow down to smell the roses. I think that is were Bingham went astray. He was in such a hurry to make a name for himself that he got caught up in the tourism need for grand, romantic adventures that accomplish a goal. Perhaps Bingham needed to embrace Peruvian Time.


Just what was Machu Picchu? That is the driving question of the entire book. Adams presents so many theories and speculations of Bingham and other scholars posed to solve the mystery of Machu Picchu that I have a hard time keeping up. Some evidence points to the city’s purpose as either a hideout in the jungle, a religious site, or the emperor’s royal estate. For Adams, he sees Machu Picchu as interconnected with the ancient Inca Trail, dotted with Incan ruins that create the sublime. Johan Reinhard, National Geographic Society Explorer-in-Residence, succinctly places the Inca Trail in its proper context, “You can’t finish the Inca Trail and NOT know that this was the end point of a pilgrimage” (198).

Despite the verdict on Bingham, I agree with Karp-Toledo when she admits, “If I were to give Bingham credit for one thing, it was that he brought knowledge of Machu Picchu to the world” (213). Regardless on which theory is right or what the purpose of Machu Picchu was, we must acknowledge Bingham’s contribution as not the “discoverer” of Machu Picchu, but perhaps its illuminator.


Adams, Mark. Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time.

Dutton, 2012.

The John C. Campbell Folk School

By Samantha Lubliner, 2016

unspecified-2Past a gas station screenshot from the ‘60s was the town of Brasstown. Composed of a mail center, library, and gas station, the surrounding hill was a collection of homes bordered with signs encouraging the election of Trump/Pence.

The John C. Campbell Folk school lays just beyond the town with an old fashioned white sign marking its emergence beyond the trees. We parked in a full parking lot and walked toward what looked like a visitor center.

Branded with Danish vowels and values, the trip to the Folk School was grabbing onto the threads of Danish education systems. We started in the history center and were able to speak with Matthew Brose, a folklorist who specialized in Anthropology.

unspecifiedEmbedded between conversations of life and relationships, he spoke about the history of the Folk School in milestones. Between the dedicated commitment to working the land and building a new system of education was a history of community. His work focuses on documenting the stories of the people who populate the folk school. He mentioned that his interviews from the past few years have been especially interesting since he is recording and telling the story of the grandchildren he originally spoke to in the formation of the folk school in the 1920s. The motto of the folk school, as seen by the countless signs and embossing is “I sing behind the plough.”

We asked the vendor in the craft store about the meaning. As he pulled out an old piece of paper, a poem written in the ____, he offered to make a copy for us. The line of the poem reads “I sing when the impulse comes to fly light and free. I sing behind the plough and to the sound of mowing.”  The man told us that the motto serves as a constant reminder to find joy in the land and within daily tasks.

screen-shot-2016-12-07-at-9-35-50-pmThe crafts of the folk school were varying in discipline and medium. Kaleidoscopes, mosaics, and pottery sprinkled the wooden show room with color. Their craft store was composed of aisles of colorful art crafted throughout North Carolina. Each stand of work had the name of the artist and the home of the craft on a small paper in front of the pieces.

Scenic barnhouses and gardens escalated the beauty of the grounds from a North Carolina town into a community.

Shadow of the Bear

By Samantha Lubliner, 2016

Shadow of the Bear is cast by the mountain.
Shadow of the Bear is cast by the mountain.

A few weeks every year there is a mountain off of Highway 64 in Cashiers, NC that casts the shadow of a bear onto the surrounding hills. Obviously, it is called Shadow of the Bear and found off of Bear Shadow drive.

After discovering the existence of such a shadow and learning that September is the time of the year the shadow hits correctly; we were on a mission.

Would we miss it? Would it be there? Would we see it? Is it on the right or the left? “A few miles” out—how far is that? But there’s no cell service out in the mountains so how can we find it…? Is it dangerous to stand on the side of highway?

Our endless questions were put to an end by the mass of 100-200 people standing on the edge of a highway all looking into the valley. We were quick to join in and do the same.


Professional tripod photographers and children alike enjoyed the view of the Shadow of the Bear. The shadow stood starkly against the foliage. Unfortunately, if you miss the shadow or do not see it at precisely the right time, the shape begins to stretch. The shadow is only in its best bear form for around 5 minutes.

To us, it resembled a mouse. But a highway called Mouse Shadow drive doesn’t sound nearly as impressive. Once the shadow began to stretch, the crowd dispersed in minutes and the highway became a mish mosh of people dodging cars in the dark.

The moment was fleeting but the feeling of being crowded along others to see a rare natural occurrence was so special. It was beary to say the least.

Befriending a Stranger in Buck’s Coffee

By Samantha Lubliner, 2016

Located in Highlands, NC, Buck’s coffee sat isolated from other buildings. Across the street from the welcome sign, the coffee shop was a staple of the town and a buzzing place filled with people of all ages. The decor was trendy with a country finish, and the people were from all walks of life. The room in the back was for “stuff” and antiques ranging from lamp fixtures to deer horns.

The armchairs were big and looked comfortable next to the fireplace. The windows gave excellent natural lighting to the whole room, and the attention to detail and design lent to an ambiance of __. People sat both alone and in groups to enjoy their coffee or treat.

Inside Buck's Cafe.
Inside Buck’s Cafe.

I ordered a Chai Tea Latte with a shot of espresso. Distracted by the delicate jewelry on display, I missed when my name was called. I traipsed over to the biggest, comfy leather chair I could find unoccupied. The five chairs surrounding a coffee table were inviting, and I asked the one man sitting in the circle if he minded if I sat.

Before long my three group members joined me—and there we were, having a group meeting with a stranger. He was curious in our conversation of town hopping and pumpkin rolling and asked what we were up to. I explained to Matt the mission of our trip and the inquiry we were practicing. He showed interest and mentioned that he’s been to all the towns we had mentioned. When prompted he then discussed how he’s been to the many towns ranging North Carolina–all to capture the beauty of waterfalls.

Sam sits in her comfy arm chair, talking with Matt.
Sam sits in her comfy arm chair, talking with Matt.

Matt began to tell all about his passion of photography and his strong convictions toward travel for a bigger global understanding. He explained that materialism and big homes don’t make happiness but travel and making a bigger world are more important. He spoke about his plans to travel to Japan to visit his college roommate and his plans for travel and photography fitting in with his day job of IT. He showed us his Facebook page, his pictures of the Amsterdam canal and wished us well on the remainder of our journey through North Carolina.

Originally from Charlotte, Matt has big dreams and wishes to continue pursuing photography and travel. He gave us his Facebook page and advised us about the seasonal shadow of the bear that he had traveled to capture. Since the shadow bear was only visible for a few minutes during dust, we said good-bye to Matt and hurried out of Buck’s Coffee to catch the sight.

The Pumpkin Roll: The Best Underrated Sport in Franklin


By Samantha Lubliner, 2016

Contestants roll their pumpkins down the hill at the annual Franklin Festival.
Contestants roll their pumpkins down the hill at the annual Franklin Festival.

The town of Franklin was bustling but the life of the party was on the outskirts. Hoards of people, young and old alike, crowded around downtown Franklin.

A steep paved hill ran through the center of town toward the more residential and on this specific Saturday, it was near impossible to find an opening amidst the gathering. Caution tape and balloons guarded the road as onlookers peaked over and leaned with their full body weight to watch the spectacle.

There was a booth atop the hill advertising the sale of pumpkins for the competition. Participants were given a number which was then called for the next-up to get into position and get ready to begin.

The Pumpkin Roll: 

Participants were instructed to pick a pumpkin (pro tip: a round pumpkin rolls differently than a cylindrical pumpkin.)

Two men clad in neon vests stood at the bottom of the hill next to the mark indicating the farthest rolling pumpkin record.

The challenge was simple: how far can you get your pumpkin to roll? The trick was in the direction, similar to bowling. Cones were not satisfactory in their job of protecting the audience of run-away pumpkins. If the pumpkin rolled into the viewing audience, it was encouraged to kick the pumpkin back into bounds. More often than not, the tough ground will be too much for the pumpkin resulting in an explosion of seeds and gooey orange insides.

Cheers erupt as the pumpkin rolled down the hill, and you heard shouts with such emotion you never thought you would:

“Roll, pumpkin, roll!”

“Yes, I knew that pumpkin was a winner”


Although repetitive, the crowd was unwavering in enthusiasm. After a long while and many rounds as spectators, we said good-bye to perhaps one of the best and underrated sports.

Samantha Lubliner

Samantha Lubliner is a Sociology major with minors in Communications and Professional Writing & Rhetoric. On Elon’s campus Sam works for Campus Recreation in administration and special event planning. She also holds roles in the Sociology department as an administrative assistant and is a member of the Periclean Scholars Class of 2017. Born and raised in NYC, she’s well read in New York pizza, hidden coffee shops, winding subways, and long-lasting candles.

Samantha’s a part of the group traveling to the mountain region—she’s excited for some farmer’s markets and general stores!

Review of Willy’s Diner: Franklin’s Most Popular BBQ Joint

By Christian Kowalski, 2016

Christian shows off the Willy's BBQ t-shirt.
Christian shows off the the logo t-shirt of Willy’s Diner

Willy’s Diner is a small, family-style BBQ restaurant in Franklin, North Carolina. Located a few minutes outside Franklin’s downtown area, Willy’s is home to a variety of Southern style cuisine. Our concierge at the hotel recommended the restaurant, commenting that their fried catfish “melts in your mouth” and that the ribs have “meat that just smoothly falls off the bone.” With these glowing reviews in mind, we made our way toward Franklin’s most popular BBQ joint.

Upon entering the restaurant, which is situated upon a hill overlooking the town landscape, one is welcomed to a traditional scene for many Southern, family style restaurants. Glossed over wood covers the building end to end with a variety of pictures and signs covering the walls that seem fitting on shows like American Pickers. Once finished, customers pay up front where they can view the strung-up t-shirts and merchandise with the Willy’s logo. Our party of four had a waiting time of about ten minutes, and at first glance, the restaurant seemed to be a popular family dinner spot. We were eventually seated in at corner wooden table with an assortment of sauces to choose from.

Willy’s BBQ diner prides its on the being “Franklins Best Bar-B-Que Restaurant.”

The menu was organized in much the same way as traditional BBQ joints: you had your platters and the bevy of sides to choose from. Some of these were classic side staples like fried okra, coleslaw, and baked beans. Others were refreshing spins on traditional sides like squash bites, which were a blend of fried cornmeal and squash that had a moist texture most cornmeal based dishes lack.

The platters were also classic features of southern style cooking: catfish, barbeque and ribs were the centerpieces of their menu. I ordered a fried catfish platter with sides of potato salad, coleslaw and fried okra. I was forewarned by our waitress of the magnitude of this platter that many people don’t finish it do to the sheer amount of fried catfish they serve on the plate. Not phased by such gestures, I reaffirmed my position to order the catfish that “melts in your mouth.”

Platters served full with a catfish sandwich, fried okra, and yellow squash hush puppies.

There weren’t any exaggerations on our waitress’s part; the platters were tall orders stacked with meat. Served on trays, the dishes were all of ample size, allowing the opportunity to mix and match with sauces and sides to my heart’s desire. And our concierge’s glowing review of the catfish wasn’t an exaggeration either; the catfish at Willy’s was the best dish I tasted on the Highway 64 trip. The pieces broke off easily and quite literally felt like they were melting in my mouth. There was no overpowering fishy taste nor an overwhelming fried feeling. It was succulent fish that was also mild enough to be completed by any of the sauces provided. My favorite was their BBQ sauce that had a perfect blend of tangy and sweet that brought out much flavor with the dish. The sides all were excellent; the coleslaw, potato salad and fried okra all exceeded expectations. The coleslaw especially complemented the catfish very well. But the side that stood out were the squash bites, which provided a unique perspective on cornmeal that benefited from the squash flavor.

Review of Bistro on Main Street

By Christian Kowalski, 2016

Menu of Bistro on Main Street.
Menu of Bistro on Main Street.

Highlands’ downtown area was by far the most charming collection of shops and stores we had visited thus far on our trip. The streets were lined with boutiques, seasonal shops, gourmet food places and so on. Each little block had a store that piqued our interest. Based on the amount of great local shops in Highlands, our group knew we had to find a nice restaurant in this part of the town.

While walking around we spotted the Bistro on Main Street, which was an old-fashioned white Inn resting on top of a hill. It looked like a dream destination for lovers of bed and breakfast type places. Upon entering the Inn, it was warm and cozy, the feeling you want when choosing a small, local inn. The furniture was old-fashioned but clear, the spaces on the floor were small and intimate—it was an ideal setting to have a nice lunch and unwind. Other aesthetic points that stood out were the restaurant’s chandelier which was a collage on intertwined branches wrapped in lights. It had a seasonal, wreath like shape that really embraced the fall weather setting. There was also a fireplace tucked away in the back of the room that would breathe warmth into the room during the colder nights in Highlands.

The dining area inside was small but comfortable, and we were seating closer to the main atrium. The menu had more expensive meals than the other restaurants we visited and offered other options beyond southern cuisine. The entrees were all over twenty dollars which included fish, steak and chicken-based dishes. Beyond these more expensive meals were a variety of soup options, chicken pot pie and other warm meals to make you feel good during the cooling months. I ordered shrimp and grits, mainly because I wanted to remain consistent with ordering southern dishes throughout my time on Highway 64.

Lit up under the branches of lights, Dani looks over the menu.
Lit up under the branches of lights, Dani looks over the menu.

The grits I ordered were perfectly creamy. The chef added cheese to the grits to add more flavor on top of them to give the meal a fuller taste. The shrimp was fresh and soft and complimenting the rest of the dish really well. Many combinations were tasting between the shrimp and grits, the grits separately or when I scooped with the freshly baked bread that was provided with our meal.

The shrimp and grits was one of the cheaper dishes offered at the restaurant totally around thirteen dollars. For the price, the portions were decent but could have had more shrimp with the dish. But it was quality over quantity as the entire meal despite it size was incredibly balanced and delicious.

Overall, the Bistro on Main Street had a very warm and home-like feel that fit given its place as a popular Inn at the heart of the town.

Looking Glass Falls

By Christian Kowalski, 2016

A picturesque view of Looking Glass Falls.
A picturesque view of Looking Glass Falls.

Looking Glass Falls is one of the bigger waterfalls we drove by and visited during our trip. Located in Brevard, locally known as the “Land of Waterfalls,”, Looking Glass Falls definitely was situated in an area that attracted more tourists. Part of this stems from how accessible the route to the falls were. There were clearly made steps down to the falls which would make it safer for families to walk down for the better view. There were benches along the path as well, giving people time to rest or take photos of the experience. Even before reaching the base of the path, it was clear those who designed it took into consideration that it would be a popular destination.

When our group arrived at the falls, there were already tons of cars parked alongside the road, forcing us to park where it would be a few minute walk to the falls. Compared to other waterfalls in the area, Looking Glass Falls was definitely more tourist-y due to its quick accessibility and picturesque look. Everyone had their cameras out around the falls. People were hurdling over rocks to change the perspective while others stayed by the benches to stay away from the cold, breezy chill of the water.

Sam, Dani, Christian and I at Looking Glass Falls.
Sam, Dani, Christian and I at Looking Glass Falls.

The falls themselves were gorgeous. Even though the water levels weren’t particularly high, the size of the falls were far bigger than most in the area. They were also tucked away in a small valley alongside the road provided a full 360 view of the beautiful fall trees around us. Giant boulders were all around the falls, which were prime for climbing to get better views of the falls.

Our group walked down the path and proceeded to walk along the accessible parts of the falls. Many pictures were from nearly every possible point we could take them. The falls in Brevard were more visually impressive compared to Silver Run, but the sheer number of people removed the intimacy. There were crying children, arguing parents and just lots of noise when visiting Looking Glass Falls. They were incredibly beautiful and impressive, but it lacked that hidden gem quality that made Silver Run a lot more special.

After we walked around the falls, we took one more group photo up by the benches and continued on our trip.