A couple of summer ago, my friend Twyford and I undertook our annual trip to Asheville. We traveled with our friend Dragongirl who was nursing a broken heart and in serious need of the refreshing mountain atmosphere. Lo! and behold, our close friend (and my housemate during those days) Hedgepig was giving a concert in the nearby mountain hamlet of Hot Springs. We decided to make an evening of dinner and music.

The drive from Asheville to Hot Springs is accomplished via either of two roads, US 25 or NC 209–both marked as major highways, although we quickly discovered otherwise on state highway 209. This road follows possibly the most convoluted route possible between Asheville and Hot Springs, temporarily masquerading as the relatively straight “Leicester Highway” before become a snaking asphault monstrosity. Still, NC 209 winds through some beautiful country across Buncombe and Madison Counties, and those untroubled by motion sickness may enjoy the drive. The more direct (and by far straighter) route is US 25 North, which leaves Asheville bound for Newport, Tennessee. This road offers dramatic grades littered with runaway-truck ramps and signs warning “watch for falling rocks” (the subject of a tale once concocted by my mother to entertain a bored 5-year-old son). Those driving too fast through this area frequently “catch air” and occasionally touch down with spectacular results.

Hot mineral springs near the present town have been attracting visitors to the area for hundreds, if not thousands of years. These spring are among the largest and most consistent of a small number of such formation in Eastern North America. Cherokee Indian tradition records that these springs were regarded as beneficial to human circulatory and respiration systems since immediate pre-colombian times, and perhaps even during the golden age of Mississippian culture. European settlers arriving in Western North Carolina were also drawn to the waters and their alleged medicinal properties. The burgeoning town was thus already a popular tourist destination during Revolutionary times and especially during the early republic. The springs continued to draw visitors from across the Eastern seaboard well into the Twentieth Century.

Geological formations may have launched the town financially, but local transport improvements secured its future. Located beneath the towering Unaka Mountains, Hot Springs was a popular launching point for native trade and European migration between North Carolina and territories of the Old Northwest. In colonial times, the Appalachian Mountains presented a formidible challenge to settlement in Tennessee and Kentucky. Travelers prefered forging across rugged territory where mountain obstacles were suddenly broken by relatively low and easily-reached gaps. Such a gap exists near hot springs, and this geological thoroughfare proved extraordinarly popular among idealistic settlers and hardened mountain-men alike.

The construction of Buncombe Turnpike through the area in 1828 brought increased farm and stock traffic (also witnessed by modern street names in nearby towns, such as Weaverville’s Stock Road). This early Federal works project was constructed along the older native and colonial route known as “Old Drover’s Road”. The partially-macadamized thoroughfare linked “Warm Srpings” (now Hot Springs) to directly to Moriston (now Asheville), and beyond to Charlotte and the Atlantic Ocean. Increased traffic of all sorts soon drove the construction of several nationally-recognized hotels, including James Patton’s 350-room Warm Springs Hotel–then the largest structure in Western North Carolina, capable of simultaneously seating 600 dinner guests.

During the American Civil War, the town repeatedly hosted Union cavalry companies acting to disrupting vital Confederate food and supply transport across the Appalachians. These raids were generally well-received by northern-sympathizing citizens of Western North Carolina, with whom confederate goals had little currency. A thriving black market in strategic and contraband goods soon emerged around Warm Springs, where devious merchants took advantage of tariffs and trade irregularities between North Carolina and Tennessee–particularly regarding gunpowder, magnesium, and gold.

Railroad service arrived at Warm Springs in the 1880’s, bringing another surge of visitors–typically wealthy northern industrialists seeking the restorative properties of the warm mineral waters–guests in town were frequently identified as Rockefellers, Vanderbilts, and Carnegies. The discovery of high-temperature springs soon prompted local leaders to change the town name to Hot Springs. Another series of hotels were constructed to accommodate high-profile newcomers drawn to the geological riches, including the Mountain Park Hotel, which boasted heated indoor swimming pools, an 18-hole golf course, access to springs, and a massive ballroom.

Hot Springs suffered a major decline beginning in the early Twentieth Century. Automobiles had begun to capture the American imagination following Horatio Nelson Jackson’s cross-country motoring adventure in 1903. Many towns without adequate improved roads were beyond the range or interest of travelers enamoured with the new technology, and Hot Springs was no exception. Forced to compete with more easily-reached destinations, the town began fading away. The illustrious Mountain Park Hotel suffered several poorly-attended seasons, then proved most useful as housing for German prisoners of war during the First World War. An accidental fire burned the hotel to its foundations in 1920 and the structure was never rebuilt. The town seemed practically doomed.

Curiously, the town which had previously benefitted so much from tourism and increasingly modern transport was now revived through the oldest form of human movement–foot traffic. The Appalachian National Scenic Trail (often called simply the “Appalachian Trail”) opened its first route through New York in 1923. Over the next half-century, the trail extended southward, eventually establishing Hot Springs as a popular trailhead. The unique location on the North Carolina-Tennessee border and astride a large mountain gap encouraged hikers traveling the Appalachian Trail to linger and recover some strength. Although the precise route of the trail was contested for decades, the National Park Service designated a final version in 1971, guaranteeing Hot Springs trailhead status.

Today foot- and automobile-based visitors can enjoy tubing on the French Broad River, moutain biking along special scenic paths, hiking the Appalachian Trail and several other local routes, excellent mountain cuisine, beautiful scenery… and, of course, relaxing among the warm mineral springs. Our trip featured free-range buffalo hamburgers with Russet potato french fries and fresh apple pie, plus enjoyable solo-guitar tunes performed by Hedgepig. Great food, great music, great scenery… excellent town.

I stepped outside this morning–my birthday, nonetheless–and discovered that springtime has apparently arrived a month early. My birthday, 22 February, is shared by George Washington and (allegedly) Frederic Chopin, both of whom were confessed melancholiacs. During their lifetimes, the much-cooler eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, warm temperatures rarely arrived before the spring equinox observed on 20/21 March, and occasionally weeks later. Perhaps the chilly shadows of wintertime drove them both to retreat into their own gloomy thoughts.

Call the modern condition global warming or simply a spike between ice ages, but decidely May-like temperatures in February have become more frequent in recent years. The pleasant consequences of this development are immediately obvious–my daffodils are already blooming, the little green leaf-buds are waking from their snowy slumber, and birds are nesting for another year of fledglings. The mountains will soon be bustling with the renewal of nature. No wonder Westerners are considered strange for recognizing dreary old 1 January as the new year. Cheers to you, and may the warmth of the sun brighten your winter-weary spirits!

One of the most iconic geological formations in North Carolina is Chimney Rock. Destination for 250,000 urban refugees each year, the Chimney Rock Park has offered a convenient location to hike, picnic, and enjoy the scenery since 1902. This 105-year period of operations was the brainchild of the Morse family, whose guiding spirit oversaw the growth of this spectacular natural monument to become a major regional attraction. Certainly, Chimney Rock could be described as a jewel in North Carolina’s Crown. Nevertheless, market forces and travel trends have been wearing on the family and their scenic property for years, and the Morse family was considering various options with hopes of finding “the best result for the land, the community, our associates, and our family.”

On 29 January 2007, Chimney Rock Company President Todd Morse announced in a press conference that “we have reached an agreement with the Division of State Parks to sell Chimney Rock Park to the people of the State of North Carolina.” Together with the neighboring World’s End property acquired in August 2005, Chimney Rock represents the majority of lands intended to form the future Hickory Nut Gorge State Park.

The transaction sees North Carolina purchase 996 acres of parkland for $24 million, following the World’s End acquisition of 1,568 acres at $16 million. The total $40 million investment is clearly a bargain for North Carolina, which is essentially paying $4.52 per capita to preserve this unique territory against development. Much credit is due the Nature Conservancy for orchestrating the groundbreaking public-private partnerships which resulted in this marvelous gesture toward the public interest.

Hickory Nut Gorge was formed as the Rocky Broad River carved its way through billions-year old rock along a ten-mile path, beginning along a high crest west of Gerton village and terminating eastward where Lake Lure spreads across the valley floor. These are truly ancient mountains, old African rock masquerading as American terrane. These mountain were formed when exotic pieces of foreign territory collided with the primeval North American craton during the Late Ordovecian Period, permanently closing the long-forgotten Iapetus Ocean.

Scenic Hickory Nut Falls enjoys a 404-foot vertical drop, one of the highest east of the Mississippi River. This location was chosen to host the climatic final scenes of Michael Mann’s Academy Award-winning The Last of the Mohicans (1992). From this point, the Rocky Broad River rambles past Gerton, a pastoral community centered around a post office and Nita’s Grocery, one of several mountain general stores that still sells Orange Crush.

William Mills, a survivor of the Revolutionary Battle of Kings Mountain, was among the first permanent (European-stock) settlers to behold the Hickory Nut Gorge. Mills proclaimed himself a Tory–a loyal supporter of the British forces crushed at Kings Mountain in 1780. After the battle he took refuge among the caves of Sugarloaf Mountain for months. Eventually he entered the Cherokee lands forbidden to White settlers by Crown law. Perhaps sensing that Washington’s Continental Army might win the war, Mills took the serious risk of settling uninvited within native territory. Mills found himself in a completely different situation seven years later, when the government of the early republic began issuing land grants to citizens of the young nation. Mills received a grant in 1787 which entitled him to settle and farm large areas of modern-day Henderson County. The view looking west toward Hickory Nut Falls still resembles the inviting valley that Mills must have beheld. His obituary in 1834 lauded him as the first White settler in Henderson Country, although many other records attest that he was merely among the first. Nevertheless, his impact on the area cannot be underestimated–He explored the many peaks and valleys, named Bear Wallow Mountain (which looms over Gerton) and Mills Gap, among other locations, and made his home among the fertile lands of Fruitland. The William Mills gravesite is located off Highway 64 and Mills Gap Road.

The Rocky Broad River passes through the towns of Bat Cave (sans Batmobile) and Chimney Rock before arriving at Lake Lure. The Lake and eponymous town were the brainchild of Dr. Lucius Morse, who financed the mountain resort personally on the original Chimney Rock property. He ordered a hydroelectric dam constructed across the Broad River in 1927, which created the crystal-blue lake. First powering the town, the dam eventually began selling excess wattage to Blue Ridge Power Company, a precursor of Duke Energy. The town of Lake Lure had just over 1,000 inhabitants in 2000, and is also known for the “bottomless Pools” attraction. It also furnished the setting for Hollowood productions Firestarter (1884) and Dirty Dancing (1987). Lake Lure and the other local towns are expected to benefit dramatically from the consolidation of new State Park lands.

The World’s Edge parcel extends south of Chimney Rock across the Blue Ridge Escarpment, a geological formation which forms the boundary between Mountains and foothills. Here, piedmont terrain, with an average altitude of about 700 feet, rises suddenly to heights exceeding 4,000 feet. The World’s Edge thus offers stunning overlooks of the North and South Carolina piedmont rolling away toward the coastal plain. Another feature of this region is the incredible biodiversity which will come under permanent protection by the State Park. The microenvironment is teeming with various migratory birds, endangered animals, indigenous invertebrates, rare plants, regional trees, and stunning waterfalls. But visitors will have to wait–the World’s Edge is currently closed pending State Park operations plans.

Governor Mike Easley recently explained that the new State Park was “a conservation success story for all North Carolinians.” Hickory Nut Gorge State Park is expected to open in 2008.

Elizabeth Anne is one of the coolest people I know in Asheville. Members of the community recognize her and enjoy her presence wherever she goes—she has a big heart and a great political acumen. I recently had the opportunity for a lengthy conversation with Elizabeth Anne over dinner at a local Indian restaurant. It began with a discussion of mountain geology, which is a favorite topic of mine. Several months back, a guest called the office and commented on the artesian well at Cozy Creek Cabin. We passed the word along, and wondered. Over dinner, I asked Elizabeth Anne to explain exactly what the artesian well is and how it functions. She replied with the following tale, which I have embellished with my own research:

Having constructed the Cozy Creek Cabin some years ago, Elizabeth Anne discovered that acquiring water service in rural Alexander, NC would be difficult and expensive. Searching for other options, she considered digging a wellshaft and pumping water upward to the cabin. Eventually she hired a dowser to visit and practice his art. Dowsers typically use either L-shaped copper “divining rods”, pendulums, or their hands to located subterranean sources of water. This ability is commonly attributed to the practitioner’s ability to perceive disturbances of telluric currents, magnetic channels naturally created by the earth’s iron core. While the existence of telluric currents is not disputed, the ability of dowsers to locate water cannot be scientifically substantiated. Experiments conducted in Germany demonstrated that dowsers located buried pipes with frequency only marginally better than random chance.

Nevertheless, the dowser reported a powerful source of water several hundred feet below the cabin. Taking a leap of faith, Elizabeth Anne decided to find someone who could drill to the proper depth.

Elizabeth Anne explained that the Appalachian Mountains are replete with subterranean rivers and lakes which grow within the mountain roots and feed the aquifer. These underground channels flow downhill just like their surface-bound counterparts, producing enormous pressures—think of Fontana Dam in Graham and Swain Counties, standing Atlas-like astride the river, holding the immense mass of water from crashing down upon the valley. This pressure is a function of simple physics known as Pascal’s Law, which demonstrates that downward pressure upon water originating from a higher elevation can subsequently pump water upwards at a lower elevation. Ancient peoples worldwide used this principle to provide pressure-fed running water to early urban centers, thus vastly improving sanitation and reducing incidence of disease. Romans first used the term aquaduct (from aqua “water” and ducere “to lead”) to describe such artificial channels. In their heyday, these structures carried over 1 million cubic meters (300 million gallons) per day into metropolitan Rome, a feat unmatched until the nineteenth century! These public works, some of which still function today, remain an iconic symbol of Roman engineering.

A local company visited Cozy Creek provide an estimate for drilling. They arrived at the cabin, which is separated from the main road by a bridge over a small rivulet. Elizabeth Anne scheduled the drilling and went traveling out of state. The drilling took place under the supervision of a friend, who reported that the dowser was wrong—the well shaft was already several hundred feet down, and there was no sign of water. Elizabeth Anne authorized the drilling to continue still deeper.

Later she received a telephone call from the friend, now reversing his report—not only was the dowser correct, but massive quantities of water were now gushing geyser-like heavenward with Herculean pressure-driven force. The drilling company explained that this phenomenon is called an artesian well.

The artesian well is a natural phenomenon, but the physics are similar to that of the aquaduct. Backed with incredible pressure, an artesian well virtually explodes when tapped. These were first used with frequency in the medieval French province of Artois, from which the well received its name. There, Carthusian Monks regularly constructed artesian wells to supply each strictly-cloistered member of the order with running water in his cell. Today, this name has been applied to central Australia’s massive, life-sustaining aquifer, the Great Artesian Basin, which is estimated to contain a staggering 64,900 cubic kilometers of fresh water.

When Elizabeth Anne returned, she stopped at Cozy Creek to see the spectacle. The water was still bursting forth with such force that installing a proper pump was both unnecessary and impossible. She called the drilling company and asked whether capping the artesian well was an option. The response was discouraging: “You can’t cap an artesian well.” She then spent days looking for someone who might have a solution. The front yard at Cozy Creek was becoming soggy.

Eventually an ingenious plan was hatched. A second pipe would be laid, diverting the excess water away to the nearby creek. The remaining pressure would be sufficient to supply the cabin with its water needs. This engineering feat accomplished, everything worked exactly as planned. As the property began to slowly dry out, the small creek became a babbling, rushing stream. Elizabeth Anne was satisfied, and guests have enjoyed Cozy Creek ever since.

We woke up to wonderful mountain views from our cabin in Black Mountain. The night before, a local bakery in Asheville caught our eye while out for dinner. We decided to start the morning there, with a fresh cup of tea and muffin from Blue Moon Bakery. Then we headed south on the Blue Ridge Parkway to take a day hike in our usual spot, Graveyard Fields. The minute we pull into the overlook parking area, our Italian Greyhounds begin to scurry around the car with joy. They were unable to control their excitement in the car while we packed our lunches, making sure to bring enough water for both the pups and us.

Packs stuffed, dogs leashed, we were ready for our hike. The hike began at a very fast pace as Ziggy pulled his humans along after every smell on the trial. Bella and Ziggy always enjoy competing for the front spot of the hike. Ziggy usually wins and directs the family on which path to take. Ziggy’s nose led us to the waterfalls—that’s where most of the dog owners hang with their pups. After creek hopping and water splashing, we ate our picnic lunch by the cascading waterfall. Then we headed toward the open meadows where the pups could happily roam. We spent hours in the meadow gazing at the wildflowers and mountain blueberries, enjoying the peace and serenity of nature. By late afternoon, the dogs were spent and we returned to the car. We humans enjoyed the breathtaking views from the Parkway while the hounds slept soundly in the backseat.

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