On 2 January, my friends and I set out from Charlotte, NC, where we spent the weekend breaking in the New Year, and headed up to the North Carolina Mountains with our sights set on a great weekend of skiing. There were six of us and even though we all had a different skill level, everyone was filled with enthusiasm and excitement as we made the trek up to the mountains. Being an avid skier myself—who hadn’t had the chance to ski in a few years—I was especially excited about getting back out on the slopes. I love having a chance to take in the beauty of the mountains while at the same time flying down the ski slope, feeling the wind in my face.

Shortly after arriving at our cabin, we picked up our skis and headed out to the slopes to try and make use of the remaining daylight, before taking on night skiing later that evening. One of my friends had never skied before, and I must admit when we first got her out on the slopes the scene was pretty comical. We started her off easy on the bunny slope–but eventually she decided for her own safety that she would enroll in a lesson or two at the ski school. Throughout the course of the week she fell more times then we could count, and ended up flying down the mountain backwards on several occasions—but all in all, she managed to pick up the basic skills of skiing within three days. By the end of the week she was having a lot of fun and was very proud to have accomplished the sport.

I myself had a wonderful time as well. I was a little rusty–having not skied for a few years–but after a couple of runs down the mountain I was back to the skier I had been before and challenging myself with new slopes and techniques. I also decided to take some intermediate lessons to learn a few new skills and just to get some feedback on my form and style. I had never taken a lesson before but I was glad I did. The ski instructors were very helpful and it was interesting to learn how to become a better skier.

All in all, our ski trip was a success. Although there was one tiny, little problem—I don’t know if any of you remember, but the week after New Year’s was an unseasonably warm one in North Carolina, even in the mountains. The ski resorts were only able to make snow the first night we were there. Although that snow maintained for a couple of days, by Thursday and Friday of that week we were constantly swerving to avoid various mud puddles and grassy areas on the slopes. I have to say we did not do much skiing towards the end of the week, but that was okay because we used that time to sightsee and to just bond as friends.

One ski resort I would recommend is the Wolf Ridge Ski Resort in Mars Hill, NC. This ski resort is a popular one, located about five miles from I-26 at Exit 3, about 30 miles north of Asheville. The resort holds 82 acres of ski terrain with slopes suiting all levels, from the wary beginner to the seasoned expert. It has 15 slopes, 4 lifts, and offers tubing, an option for the non-skiers in your group. It is a family-oriented resort with plenty of parking and two beautiful ski lodges complete with massive stone fireplaces that accommodate families, walk-ins, and large groups. The Wolf Ridge Ski Resort also boasts of its top-rated snow sports school, which offers group and private lessons which can be useful to both individuals and families. If you are looking for a place to ski near Asheville, Wolf Ridge Ski Resort is a great option.

Another ski resort, located in the Maggie Valley area, is the Cataloochee Ski Area. This resort has 10 slopes, 3 lifts, a rope tow, and a magic carpet lift. It is nestled in the Great Smoky Mountains of North Carolina and is about 40 minutes from Asheville. This resort, like Wolf Ridge, offers slopes for all different skill levels and even has a terrain park complete with ramps, rails, and boxes for the expert skier wanting to practice his tricks. The resort also has a cozy little lodge that is great for warming up and enjoying a nice mug of hot cocoa. If you are in the Maggie Valley area, this ski resort would be a great place for you.

I myself am trying to make it up to the mountains for one more weekend of skiing, before the warmer spring weather sets in, and hopefully I’ll be able to find time in my schedule to plan a trip. To me there is nothing more thrilling then skiing down a freshly coated mountain on a sunny day taking in that fresh mountain air and I know some of you must share my sentiment. Happy skiing!

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!

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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Mughals and Meals

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