Coming off the Mountain

 You can't be twenty on Sugar Mountain
Though you're thinking that
you're leaving there too soon 
--Sugar Mountain, Neil Young

Oh I'm bound to go
Where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall
The winds don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
--Big Rock Candy Mountain, 
Harry McClintock

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We are bidding adieu to Avery County tomorrow, the cool air has provided welcome respite.  Some sundry observations:

--The pool at our lodge played reggae at the pool Tiki bar on an almost continuous loop.  The Tiki bar was somewhat dissonant in the heart of dulcimer and mando folk music, until I looked up into the mountains and thought of Jamaica. Save for the entire milieu and demographics, I might have been in the Blue Mountains; just close your eyes and imagine.

--The local Sugar Mountain featured another odd music festival last weekend featuring dub and crunk, and the aficionados were young mostly white people sporting dreads and pjs, nuevo-Deadheads, we guess.  Ranger sang "Sugar Mountain", Neil Young's song about the need for young people to grow up.  These dub-heads did not appear to be leaving the "mountain" anytime soon, an interesting and somewhat ubiquitous phenomenon of arrested development amongst a contingent of today's youth, supported by entitled Baby Boom parents.

Lastly, dinner tonight at the lovely farm-to-table the Frog and Monkey.  Ranger unfortunately informed the gentle waiter what the crude term "RCH" meant, and asked him if he had been in the service. "No, sir, they wouldn't want me," which met with the retort, "They took me!"

Finally, come dessert time, the chap tried to entice with, among other properties, a cupcake.  Mind you, it is not an adult food, and Sex and the City is probably to fault for the ubiquity of this piffle.  Came Ranger's vociferous reply, "You couldn't PAY me to eat a cupcake!"

"No, sir -- I wouldn't think of it," and the sun began to set on old Appalachian mountains.

On the Road

 --Workmen on precarious improvised foam-ladder support,

somewhere in Asheville

And it seems like it goes on like this forever

You must forgive me

If I'm up and goin' to Carolina in my mind   

--Carolina on My Mind, James Taylor

_________________

[Sorry ... we have been laggards; no excuses.  We will begin some posts of substance after THIS weekend, promise.  This is just to update you, 

--the amaneunsis.]

RAW has made it through N. Georgia none the worse for wear.  All hopes of non-fried veggies, and ANY veggies besides overcooked greens beans, mashed potatoes and okra cast aside long ago.  We bade Bogger Hollow and its "fried pork fat" breakfasts goodbye (fried pork fat being "bacon + 1", we imagine.)

 

Current stop: Asheville, if only for the farm-to-table ethos and microbreweries.  Think of it as a very mini Portland -- the only one in the Southeast, really.  {Above is the board at Early Girl -- it is so gratifying to see grain and seed pancakes with real maple syrup -- no more Martha White wallpaper paste.}  For us coming from The Swamp, it is a relief to enjoy creative breakfasts that veer from eggs + meat.  The dress is retro-Haight-Ahbury-meets-hillbilly: dresses (ladies and some men), leg tats and boots, Frye And otherwise.

Here is Jim enjoying breakfast at Early Girl, and a typical look, which is to say, staring at the waitresses, um, garb, while being spoken to.  There is another photo which is more typical and may be posted later.  Below is the daily food board at "Homegrown", a local favorite.

 --Lisa on Wall Street, N.C.-style

 These are the small happenings of a day in Asheville: Jim engages the next table, from Ireland, in a discussion of the Irish Republican Army (IRA), saying he likes the group.  Startled, the young man says, "Ah, you must like their tactics."  After engaging them for 10 minutes at 8 a.m. on the topic of terrorism, Lisa suggests we let the lovely people enjoy their vittles.

Stopping at a thrift store benefiting breast cancer research, Jim asks the women if they will discount a jock strap as he has only one testicle.  They fail to find any humor and charge him full price.  Lisa enjoys an apple strudel at the "European Bakery", a hole in the wall which is surprisingly good.

We are off to Jack in the Woods Pub for some bluegrass (when in Rome ...).  There's a Doc Watson retrospective this weekend.  Saturday is annual "Wood Day" featuring, well, people who work with wood. Banner Elk next, then West Virginia to experience some hollers.  Like I say, real thinking coming up ...