Home (or what is still "home" via mortgage) after a weekend in the mountains followed by a day at the beach...I seem to have traveled a lot in the last four days. Actually, there's no seeming about it. I've been in the car far longer than I'd like to be...but there are costs and benefits in everything, yes.
Friday found me driving to Hot Springs, NC to meet my WV comrade Rob at 'Hound Heaven,' a pet (and pocket) friendly cabin along the "dramatic climb" up Spring Mountain. Some of my few good friends and hiking buddies know how I feel about Hot Springs...so even after I had begrudgingly decided that a winter retreat with Rob before his hectic ski season began was just a little too impossible, he somehow managed to unknowingly find a place that no life crisis or rock slide could deter me from getting to.
There may be nothing blatantly special about Hot Springs. Certainly there's special stuff there, but there are countless camp sites along the French Broad River, I can soak in a natural hot spring right here in Georgia and there's plenty of teeny mountain towns that are within close(r) proximity to a grocery store or cell tower. What makes this place so compelling is difficult to explain but to me it just is. From the moment I first tumbled (quite literally, I might add) into this quaint little town almost 10 years ago I began to love it as if it held some magical hidden portal to another dimension where feeling and dreaming and living are impossible concepts to avoid...and maybe that's the best descriptive--or maybe it's just me--though Southern Living gave it a glowing nod in this November's issue.
Saturday morning we woke up to the stillness that comes with new snow. To my glee it flurried and peppered through our mid-morning breakfast and continued while we ventured down and about in town, dipping in and out of the less-than-a-handful of shops, finding super sale items in tucked away bins of the cozy outfitter store, trying to get the perfect picture from the bridge over the river and exploring nooks and crannies of the eversohumble neighborhood (which took about 45 seconds). We found new insoles for my shoes, strange voodoo dolls (craftily disguised as Christmas ornaments), uncommon wines and a favorite little cabin we both chattered about building for the duration of the drive back up into the mountainside...only interrupted by a discussion of how I would furnish a rocky crevice home if I were a small Faeiry creature and how to effectively heat it in the winter months... musings of mine that Rob always kindly humors and often graciously joins in on. We made a quick obligatory stop at a lookout for a few photos then hauled it up to the cabin, fully intent on taking the dogs for a long and rigorous hike--a hike that ended up being a not-so long or rigorous trek between the warm innards of our cabin and the warm innards of the hot tub on the deck...champagne and WV Melomel honey wine in tow.
That night we descended back into town for dinner at the bed and breakfast and post- dinner brews at Rock Bottom pub. This is a favorite activity of mine, not only because I enjoy drinking good beer (btw the Highland Gaelic Holiday Ale is superb), but because late night encounters in Hot Springs are one of the most entertaining parts of a visit there. After finding a few seats at the bar, Robbie's attention was snatched by Hank, a small old leprechaun-like man with frizzy reddish hair and beard, half a mouth of snaggle-teeth and lots of talk about life and hard labor. I caught up on the last few years of town happenings with our bartender, Brenda, who also shared with me her own family history, her two childrens accomplishments, and exactly what "stocking up" means when you live in a valley-town 20miles, 40mins and a hundred hair-pin turns from the closest grocery store. Rob and I sneakily loaded up the excessively modern electronic jukebox with Waylon, Merle and a choice few others and then were invited to a doubles game of pool with an older local who I called 'Chief' and a much younger 'Davis' who was in town staying with his uncle (and who was a little too into Widespread Panic). We left with full bellies, a night of laughter and the knowledge that we would most likely never see this selection of people again, regardless of when we returned.
Sunday morning we slept in and then began the task of packing up and leaving what had been an irreplaceable weekend getaway. We loaded up the cars just as the bells were ringing from the church across the meadow from our cabin. Missed breakfast-time in town and conceded to lunch at the diner where we laughed about our weekend, eyeballed my road atlas and the miles btw us, got the scoop from the locals on what time the Christmas parade was starting (aka, when to git while the git'n was good) and talked about the next time we might meet...when the waitress took our plates I assumed the frowny "don't wanna leave" face and Rob followed with "oh lord I know, we go through this every time"...and shortly thereafter we parted ways. He began the climb into hill country and I began the long swoop down through Blue Ridge, Saluda and Green River Gorge, stopping briefly for soup and conversation with the brother before heading home to Georgia.
Yesterday morning bright and early mom and I drove 5 hours southeast to St. Simon's Island where I had an interview. Along the way we completed two Sunday crosswords and discussed our favorite items in the L.L.Bean Christmas catalog. After my interview we grabbed a fireside dinner at Crabdaddy's (highly recommend it) and hit I-95 North to again head homeward. The ride back we were too tired for crosswords so we discussed school, family, how glad we were to have left SC when we did, relationships, flannel-lined corduroys, good books and the meaning of life.
I climbed in bed, appropriately delirious, around 1:30am only to toss and turn with strange and disruptive dreams of floods and annoying neighbors (though i live no where near a flood zone and my real-life neighbors are fabulous). Woke up this morning long before I wanted to and have been plodding around the house ever since... unpacking, shuffling things around without really putting them away, wondering if I should call my real estate agent and postpone our meeting until tomorrow, coddling my socially anxious cat, Stella...and, well, blogging.
And once again here I close my (apparently) monthly blog to cyberspace. Until next time.
