No Speed Limit Signs?

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Caroline Zybala – 2014

After a long day of traveling, all anyone ever wants to do is go home. Our group had spent all day exploring the exciting downtown of Raleigh, and by the time four o’clock rolled around, we were ready to hit the road. But we didn’t actually leave the city until four due to our apparent inability to find our parked car.

Entering what we believed was our parking garage, we were slightly perplexed when we entered the second level and the vehicle was nowhere in sight. Assuming that we had the location wrong, the four of us wound our way up the next few levels, searching for missing car. When our searches proved fruitless, we stood in the middle of the road, staring at each other, and trying to backtrack in our minds.

Finally, Jenna remembered that before entering the parking garage, we had not passed the blow up dancing man that was flailing around in front of the convention center where the International Festival was being held. Laughing at our stupidity, we descended the stairs (well, took the elevator if we are being honest), and trekked over to the second parking garage on the opposite side of the building.

Sure enough, the car was sitting right there on the second level, where we knew it was parked. Thankful to finally get off our feet and start the drive home, we piled into the car and turned on the GPS to get directions home. Keep in mind; it is now 4:30 as we exit the garage. The drive to Raleigh took us approximately one hour, so we were anticipating it taking roughly the same amount of time to drive back. I had a meeting at six pm that evening, but at that point, I was not concerned about making it back to campus in time.

So, we are driving along, chatting about the things we saw and the people we met in Raleigh, when we turn a corner on the road and were greeted by a sea of brake lights. The four of us let out an audible groan as we slow to a complete stop on the highway. None of us had accounted for any type of traffic, given that it was a Sunday. Glancing at the GPS, we watched as the minutes until arrival crept upwards as we slowly inched down the road.

After many groans and rolled eyes, the traffic began to move again. Trying not to freak out, I tried not to look at the GPS, knowing that our arrival time had to be past six. Naturally, I had to look to know how bad it was. Due to the traffic we had encountered, we were now supposed to arrive at 6:15 pm. Since I was the one driving, and I was the one who had to be somewhere at six, I made the executive decision to take matters into my own hands and get us back to campus before six.

After looking around for a speed limit sign, we couldn’t find a limit that was posted. I promptly accelerated and began the race against the clock. A large portion of this drive was on an empty, one lane road, which allows us to fly towards Elon. But of course, there was the occasional car out on a Sunday drive, which would force us to slow down until it was safe to pass them. Generally speaking, I am not a very aggressive driver, and I had never passed anyone on a one-lane road before. But we were on a mission, and no one car was going to be the reason we would fail. I proceeded to pass car after car, with a few of these times potentially being questionable decisions. The adrenaline and the fear brought on by taking our lives into my own hands several choice words to be used throughout the drive home.

Naturally, since we were in a hurry, someone needed to go to the bathroom. It’s just one of those life things that is required to happen. So, we pulled into a random gravel parking lot of a Mexican restaurant, and Jenna and Miranda raced inside while Kelley and I impatiently waited for them to emerge. When they popped back out, they were out of breath and laughing at what happened inside. Explaining how they didn’t say a word to anyone inside, but simply darted to the back of the place to find the restroom. And naturally, it was a strange bathroom and the light switch was located outside the one-person bathroom, which presented a struggle for the two of them.

We pressed onwards, racing against time, until we were forced to slow to 35 mph behind an old, beat up pick up truck. With the road winding through a small town, we were unable to pass this truck due to the oncoming traffic. My knuckles grew white and I nervously began to rock in my seat as we crept through the town. Eyes searching for a quicker route, we decided it would be the most efficient to just stay on the road until we reached the main highway. When our turn finally appeared, the engine whined as I pushed the gas pedal to the ground.

The final few miles literally flew by and we sped off the highway, racing towards campus. With ten minutes to go, I quickly dropped off the rest of the group members and raced to change for my meeting. After all the drama and law breaking, I ended up being two minutes early. But hey, I got to experience living on the edge for a change.

Asheboro Fall Festival

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Caroline Zybala – 2014

On a brisk October Saturday, with the sun offering a warm glow, our group traveled to Asheboro for their annual Fall Festival. After having to turn around because we passed the main part of town where the fair was being held, we were able to park in the local court parking lot. Entering the fair from the side, we were immediately inundated with a mass of people and various tents that lined the street.We attempted to approach the fair in the most logical manner, wanting to see everything there in an efficient

manner. Staying to the right and filtering through the tents, seemed to be the most logical option, so we began our journey into the mass of people. Immediately, we were inundated with the sights and scents of the festival. Tents of all types, representing different organizations, had people calling out to the patrons of the festival, advertising their delectable treats or handmade crafts. With the

upcoming election, there were various tents with political parties handing out flyers of information for their respective candidates and issues. After winding through the many tents, nobody purchased any of the many deep fried treats, so we headed to grab some frozen yogurt to save ourselves from some grease.

Cow 3 — Cows were dressed up by their owners and paraded for a contest

Dining and Donating

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Kelley Dodge – 2014

At Di’lishi Frozen Yogurt, the options were endless. With 10 flavors and more than 60 toppings, it took multiple tastings to figure out what combination was best. While I opted for dark chocolate frozen yogurt topped with brownie bits, cookie dough, and hot fudge, Miranda chose a healthier dish, selecting lemon frozen yogurt topped with fresh fruit like kiwi, mangos, raspberries, blueberries, and strawberries. Full from the scrumptious froyo, on our way out Di’lishi encouraged us to drop our spoons in one of three panels for a charitable cause. The three current causes were the local library, the county pageant, and the humane society. Di’lishi explained that each month a portion of the profits go to the winning cause, and at the end of the month the causes change, bringing exposure to new organizations in need. Being English lovers, we all dropped our spoons in the library panel, feeling satisfied with both the frozen yogurt and the community involvement.

Toys of Appalachia

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

After being told by a Brasstown local that we could see a gorgeous panorama of the town from the hill above the shop-lined main street on Highway 64, we could not resist. As we turned up Emily Lane and drove the short, but steep incline to the top, we realized that we were on someone’s personal property. Parking our car in what seemed to be a small parking lot, we got out and looked around to see if we were truly in the outlook spot promised to us by the townsperson. Before we had much time to figure anything out, we were greeted by Carol–a spunky, sweet-voiced, middle-aged Southern woman.

Carol is the owner of Hill Gallery & Working Studios, the place that we had apparently stumbled upon. After learning that we were visitors, she eagerly invited us onto the porch to explain a bit of Brasstown history before launching into her family’s role in the town. Because of the deeply rooted Appalachian culture, she explained that there are some unique items that can be found in the mountains, especially toys. Taking us inside, Carol gave us a rundown of some of the most famous toys of Appalachia, including the Whimmy Diddle—a toy which her husband is a worldwide champion for playing.

A Whimmy Diddle is a ribbed stick that you rub together with a smooth one to produce a sound along the lines of “Gee-Haw.” This Appalachian toy has been used by the Hill Gallery & Working Studios owners for competitions and personal entertainment, in addition to being sold in their store. It has been the focus of many different types of benefit competitions that they put on for various charities last October, November, and December. Carol excitedly explained that the winner of these competitions gets a moon pie, an RC Cola, and a certificate of participation.

To play the Whimmy Diddle, it requires that you to hold the top stick with one hand like a pencil, with your thumb on one side of the top stick and your pointer finger on the top. The other hand holds the bottom stick in place. You then must drop your pointer finger slightly to the opposite side while letting your thumb hit the stationary bottom stick, rubbing it back and forth across the stick to produce the intended sound. Katie tried it out, making slight alterations to her hand placement per Carol’s suggestions until she got a sound that more closely resembled the one coming from Carol’s sticks. Much to our excitement, we even got a special demonstration from the Whimmy Diddle champion himself, a man to which Carol endearingly referred to as “my mountain man.”

The difficulty of achieving the right sound far surpassed what would have been expected. Carol explained, “You know, it’s just like riding a bike or anything. You just have to practice, and it becomes a piece of cake.” However, after learning that it is created using a mathematical formula and a consideration of not only the type but also the condition of wood that is used, the “simplicity” of the toy was quickly wiped away.

The reason for promoting the Whimmy Diddle and the other types of Appalachian toys in their store represents a desire to keep the Appalachian culture alive. Carol explains that they are trying to teach children that they don’t need a computer or other forms of technology to have fun—the expertise of the Appalachian toy creators makes simple toys largely entertaining.

Turn a Corner, Discover Bridal Veil Falls

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

When you’re driving along the winding roads of Highway 64, nestled between the lush trees of the mountains, it is easy to expect beauty around every corner. From breathtaking panoramas of treetops so vast that they seem to be never-ending broccoli crowns, to narrow canopied roads that only emit stripes of sunshine intermittently, the scenery never disappoints. It would seem easy to become blind to the beauty a couple hours into a trip, but the mountain region of Highway 64 never gets old. Every so often, however, you round the corner and are struck by a site so majestic that it momentarily makes the rest of the scenery seem (somewhat) more ordinary.

You’ll experience one of these unbelievable moments when you’re driving between Franklin and Highlands. The cascading waterfall of Bridal Veil Falls reveals itself to the passerby around a corner much like any other. Spouting out a large stream of water that falls over an arched section of the road, this approximately 50-foot-high waterfall provides a respite for drivers from the windy turns down the mountain. You just have to pull off to one side of the arch, park your car, and step out into the sprinkling beauty. You can walk all the way around the arch, behind the fall, and let yourself be misted and refreshed.

The walking path you’ll enjoy behind the waterfall used to be part of Highway 64 itself. This route required drivers to slow down before hitting the falls and cautiously drive behind them. The difficulty and danger that ensued diminished the outlook of the falls as a beautiful piece of scenery. During the winters, the snow and ice caused the falls to freeze over, which you could imagine would be a huge safety hazard. In Franklin, the Gem & Mineral Shop workers won’t hesitate to warn you that a lot of people have unfortunately fallen off the cliff around that area before the highway was reconstructed.

Bridal Veil Falls is one of the few places that you feel as if you’re among tourists in this mountain region of North Carolina, but not in a bad way. Cars are constantly pulling over, spilling out individuals, couples, families, and groups of friends with cameras at the ready. From newlyweds taking a pit stop along a honeymoon mountain trip, to vacationing families stopping off to let their kids traipse through the water, Bridal Veil Falls is an enjoyable attraction for everyone.

If this part of Highway 64 is not on your itinerary, it is worth taking a detour just to see Bridal Veil Falls. And while you’re at it, stop for half a day in Franklin to wander around the shops and eat some of the delicious food the downtown has to offer. Or, stop in Highlands for a nice meal at one of the local restaurants or inns. The vistas in this part of the mountain region will certainly make the drive to Bridal Veil Falls almost as enjoyable as the destination.

Mountaintop Wine Shoppe

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Alexa Dysch & Rachel Fishman

When Highlands’s locals and visitors alike finds themselves wondering, “Where’s my wine destination?” they need not look further than the Mountaintop Wine Shoppe.

Whether you plan to grab one of their many, and unique, bottles being sold at the front of the store, or prefer to sit in the back with friends and sample wine, you’re in luck! Mountaintop Wineshoppe in Highlands has everything to offer.

Inside, the atmosphere is warm and welcoming, while also being a bit swanky and cool. The wooden floors add to the class of the establishment, but also to the inviting feeling. About forty people can comfortably sit in the back room, either at tables of two, four, or eight, or on one of their plush leather chairs. Although cozy and not necessarily very large, you do not feel like you’re sitting on top of others. The owners, Mike and Christine Murphy, are incredibly easy to strike up a conversation with. They manage to maintain this friendly persona without intruding on customers’ time to wind down and relax.

The first room in the store boasts not only bottles for sale, but also self-service tasting machines. You can buy a “Pour Card” and be able to freely sample the wines of your choosing. At all times, you can choose from 8 reds and 8 whites. If you like the taste, you can try a full glass or even buy the bottle. Mike and Christine make themselves available in case you need a little advice in this decision.

The pairing menu is pretty extensive, with about 20-30 different types of cheeses and meats, both local and global. The wine is listed under the categories of red, white, and reserves, and then further divided by grape variety.

For a change of scenery, customers can take a seat outside and be treated to gorgeous Appalachian views around a blazing fire, while having a glass from a selection of over 500 bottles of wine.

In their first year of business, Mike and Christine Murphy find themselves discovering what works and enjoying the fruits of their labor. They strike the ideal balance between having an upscale business without excluding anyone, including those who are new to wine. Their knowledge of wine is extensive, coupled with a friendly and warm atmosphere. While the Murphys had no previous wine involvement, their business partner brought his previous distribution experience alongside.

From Western North Carolina to Western Florida, visitors from major cities and small towns stop by for great wine and wonderful company. Their varied customer base is a true testament to the population of Highlands. A primary destination for weekend getaways in the fall due to all the “ooh’s-and-ahh’s” of the color-changing trees, Highlands pulls in a large seasonal tourist population. In fact, as we were trying to enjoy the last couple drops of wine in our glasses, Mike explained to us that Highlands has only 2,500 full time residents, yet enough occupancy space for 25,000. And on the 4th of July, Highlands is visited by up to 35,000 people.

The inns in the area cater to this touristy population, providing a prime destination for weddings as well. From outdoor weddings to cozy indoor ceremonies and receptions, the facilities are well-equipped to host a good number of weddings. The Old Edwards Inn hosts 7-12 weddings per weekend! But what about the nights before the wedding day? Mike wanted the Mountaintop Wine Shoppe to be a destination for the wedding goers who travel to the area.

It’s no surprise that since their March opening, they’ve gathered a good local following as well. After a previous wine shop closed down years ago, there was an open void that the Murphys felt they could fill. The reasonable prices and the relaxing atmosphere allow for Highlands’ residents to gather at the shop, without having to treat it only as a “special occasion” event.

The trek through the windy roads along Highway 64 is a worthy adventure to reach this charming town and its wonderful wine destination. The stunning views of Bridal Falls on your way hint at the beauty of what’s to come.

A bottle at Total Wine will cost you the same, but a visit to this local gem is an experience worth more than a bottle of Dom Pérignon.

WineShoppe2 — Owners Mike and Christine Murphy

WineShoppe — The outside of this quaint shop

Not Just Another Days Inn

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

What could have easily been just another Days Inn chain became a valuable source of information, culture, and hospitality for our journey in Murphy. The concierge of the Days Inn along Highway 64 enthusiastically welcomed our group and, despite our 11:00pm arrival time, began to engage us in a lively conversation about our plans for Murphy. She taught us that the Trail of Tears was just down the road and explained the impact of the Cherokee tribes on the culture of Murphy. It would be impossible to stay here without getting suggestions of activities to do and restaurants to try, in addition to a comforting feeling of being welcomed into this lovely small town. These unexpected benefits were amplified by the fact that the hotel was just a 5-10 minute drive away from everywhere you would want to go in Murphy, from the Cherokee History Museum to the Cherokee Cellars Winery.

Our Days Inn Hotel, as pictured on the website

Coffee, Conversation, and Community

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

There’s something in the aroma of fresh roasted coffee that calms the soul and opens up conversation. Sure, the caffeine helps too. But the atmosphere of coffee shops with the smell percolating through the air has an energy all of its own. As the barista expertly creates the perfect consistency of foam on top of a cappuccino and swirls a leaf or heart into the top, everything seems to move at the perfect pace. Frantic, calm, organized chaos. Along with the chatter and commotion, the serenity and the relaxation, comes an air of friendliness (most of the time, at least).

In coffee shops in the mountains of North Carolina, all of this positive energy and friendliness is heightened. When we entered coffee shops for our daily coffee fix and conversation opportunity, we were always greeted with a warm smile. From the ritzier atmosphere in Highlands to the more small-town, mountainous setting of Cashiers, we experienced a wealth of opportunity embedded within the local coffee shops.

Immediately after finding a parking spot along the two-lane, shop-lined main road in Highlands, we headed to Bucks Coffee Cafe. I was determined to get advice from the locals about what not to miss. The cozy rustic atmosphere, heightened with the white walls, comfy leather chairs, and faux taxonomy throughout, provided what I was sure to be the perfect place to get the “insider scoop”. We made our way up to order, apparently already giving off our “outsiderness.” The man behind the counter was in his early 30’s, born and raised in the mountains. Before we had a chance to order our drinks, paying our way into a position where we could pester the employees with questions, he asked us what we were doing in Highlands.

Our explanation of the project proved amusing to him, soliciting a response of Oh, and you expected to find a lot to do here? Well, I guess we should have realized that we would probably not be given the extent of advice we might have been hoping for. Using his sassy comment to segue into asking for things to do, we prodded him for a bit more information. He talked about the shops along the street and the bars in the area. And that was it. The woman who entered in behind us, donning worn combat boots, jeans, and a t-shirt from local bar “The Lost Hiker” reiterated the suggestion of where to go.

In many situations, this would have been enough. But, between the coffee and the mountains, the conversation kept going. The barista called over his friend, who gave almost the same answer, but went into more detail of what to expect drink-wise and clientele-wise in the various bars. Okay, I began to think, we seem to have an accurate picture of the area now. Their eagerness to actually help us find something we were excited to do, coupled with their amusement at our probably unsatisfied expressions, continued the conversation for a few minutes more.

When our cups were empty and our insides warmed, we thanked everyone for their advice and headed out in search of dinner. As we were leaving, the barista hollered towards the door, “We’ll see you all tonight at The Lost Hiker around 11:00!” With a smile and a wave, we all exited, sharing looks insinuating our agreement that we would not, in fact, see them at the bar. We knew that all of our travels would lead us to our beds before then, but we were grateful for the wealth of time and advice.

The next morning we woke up and drove to Cashiers, with even less of an idea of what to do in the three hours we had allotted ourselves. As we entered the town on our beloved Highway 64, we saw antique shop after antique shop lining the road. Unfortunately, they all seemed to be closed since it was a Sunday. Unsure of what to do, we arrived at an intersection in what seemed like the center of the town, and saw it—another Bucks Coffee Cafe.

Hoping we could get the same eagerness to provide information on activities in the town (and get a nice steaming cup of coffee), we decided to go in. This coffee shop boasted the same art from an artist local to North Carolina mountains and had the same white walls and the fake taxidermy, but it was even larger and cozier than the one in Highlands.

Immediately intrigued by both the commotion of people within and the eclectic mix of items scattered around, I paused and surveyed the place. The rustic feel with the wooden tables and central blazing fireplace was enough to warm anyone’s heart and brighten their day. The taxonomy and art added to the cabin-esque atmosphere.

When it was my turn to order, I asked the barista, who seemed to be just a bit older than me, if she had any suggestions of things to do with only a couple hours. Similar to the experience in Highlands, she did not think we would be entertained as tourists, explaining that there’s really not that much going on. The man making my chai latte added in that it would be a shame if we missed the High Hampton Inn Apple Festival. I thanked him for his suggestion, and once again banked on the coffee atmosphere to allow for my continued badgering.

“We actually went to a Bucks Coffee Cafe in Highlands yesterday, I didn’t realize it was a chain,” I shared, hoping for clarification on how many exist. He informed me that these were the only two and that we just happened to get them both back to back, a happy accident. People pass through frequently, but the coffee shop is constantly populated with locals gathering with friends to chat or working on their laptops. Finally, we were directed to the flyer with the details of the apple festival just up the road, and we were off. Once again, we were grateful for the advice and satisfied that our experience in the town would not be lacking of anything that we absolutely needed to see.

So thank you, Bucks Coffee Cafe, for both being an activity and a piece of insight into these mountain towns and a hotbed for ideas of the best activities to do in the area.

A Delicious Chai Latte from the helpful barista

Franklin Altruism

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Rachel Fishman – 2014

From the friendly, conversational shop owners to the business models of many stores, it is clear that Franklin is more than just a small town—it is a community. Most of the antique and consignment stores actually benefit one of the local non-profit organizations, as explained by the woman who volunteered at an antique store attached to the Franklin Historical Museum. This antique store has four separate rooms full of items whose profits go directly to the museum to fund the acquisition of items and the museum’s upkeep. This business model is not abnormal in Franklin, as it is necessary to compensate for the large wealth-gap in the town. Even the vegetables growing on the plant outside the antique store are for the community to share. It is impossible to visit Franklin and not feel that tangible sense of community.

Plants for the public offering “food for free”

An Afternoon in Brasstown

Posted on November 24, 2014 by mreilova

By Katherine Makepeace – 2014

Outdoor art lines the row of shops in Brasstown, NC.

Brasstown – essentially a small strip of local art shops – is a village that is hard to distinguish geographically from the town of Murphy. It is just a short drive from the modern big-box stores and food chains, like Wal-Mart and Starbucks, which are prevalent on the outskirts of Murphy.

After my contemplative walk at the Fields of the Wood Bible Park that morning, peaceful Brasstown carried this serene and reflective momentum through the rest of my afternoon. I quickly grew fond of this place. What initially appeared to be yet another narrow road like all the others along the mountain-stretch of Highway 64 turned out to be a literal splash of local color.

This is because Brasstown, although closely related to Murphy, is distinguishable by its more intimate and pastoral setting – amplified by the vibrant folk art on display in the shop windows, the yard décor lining the sidewalks and garden pathways of the galleries, and the small sitting-nooks enclosed by lush foliage for mid-shopping spree rests. Silva Gallery is painted purple and green, bright works of art peek out from every cranny, and dangling wind chimes and recycled bottles situated on sapling tree branches give this tiny town an ethereal, hippie-like atmosphere.

Without careful observation, one could easily miss the sign that declares the tiny corner gas station the annual site of the New Years Eve Possum Drop. Right up the street from the John C. Campbell Folk School, the shop owners all held workshops and classes, both affiliated with the school and through their own volition to engage the rest of the local community in traditional crafts like bead-making, wool basket-making, alcohol prints, fabric art, pottery, copper plate designs, handmade jewelry, and more.

The lack of pedestrians and shoppers on this day enhanced this intimacy and made it a space where I could engage the artists one-on-one, learn more about their crafts, hear about the artists’ connections to the local Cherokee and Mountaineer histories, and subject myself to further prodding to attend the following day’s Fall Festival across the street. Having grown up in Western North Carolina’s Maggie Valley area, near the state’s other prominent Cherokee reservation, I reveled in the opportunity to pick the brains of those who have passionately maintained the area’s Appalachian traditions, history, and culture without losing sight of the tragic significance of the atrocities experienced by the Natives. One of the storeowners said that an archaeological team discovered that her property is a huge site for Cherokee artifacts and continues to be analyzed today. Another store owner taught my peers and I about Bluebird conservation, inducting us as official Bluebird Rangers, teaching us the art of whimmy-diddling, and informing us about the significance of the land on which her store was built. She took us outside and showed us where soldiers kept watch from this hill, able to easily survey the goings-on of the valley below.

We made many friends that my group members and I would continue to bump into throughout the course of our stay in the Murphy/Brasstown area. I found that it was a lovely place for a relaxing, uncrowded shopping experience, or to transport oneself to a time in which old Appalachian traditions played a more significant role in the daily lives of Murphians.