“Well, I'll never be a stranger and I'll never be alone
Wherever we're together, that's my home”
-Billy Joel
“Because that’s what gay hosts do!”
- Rusty Cole-Davis
We were traveling again! It wasn’t very far; about a seven hour car drive. Still, we were packing bags, thinking about what we would need, shutting down the house, and arranging for the chickens to be fed. After the long pandemic, the idea of going anywhere was thrilling.
We are not alone. The Memorial day weekend would be the busiest day at the nation’s airports in years. The vaccination campaign was working. People were climbing out of their closed shelters, squinting at the sun, and started to move again.
Is it too early? I don’t know; probably. But I didn’t care. We both were vaccinated and felt invincible. So we packed our many medication bottles, my sore shoulder, and one aging Coon Hound and hit the road.
Our destination was Appalachia - North Carolina. Colleen’s brother Curtis, and his husband Rusty, have a cabin in the woods of the Natahala National Forest. Chris and Emily were going to join us as well and we spend the holiday together.
There was going to be tall pine trees, clear streams, and near by broken down cabins filled with armed Trump supporters.
Sounded perfect.
I had been before. The last time didn’t go well. I was hoping this trip would be different.
We both decided we would avoid MacDonalds at all costs.
I had the doors open to the SUV while packing that morning. I came out about an hour before we were scheduled to leave to find that Charlie, our Coon Hound, had already jumped into the car. He couldn’t have known that we already planned to bring him. He was nervously pacing as we packed, like he always did. I couldn’t get him back out. With Flash gone, he didn’t want to be alone.
We hit the road, listening to 70’s music, and enjoying the conversation. After forty years, Colleen is still the most interesting person I know and the best travel companion.
We entered Kentucky and drove through the Bluegrass region near Lexington. The rolling green hills dotted with beautiful horse farms were stunning.
It made us both realize a central fact known to most travelers. Indiana is remarkably devoid of attractive geography. There are uglier states. A drive through West Texas or Oklahoma will demonstrate this fact. No, that is not it. Indiana is like the plain girl at the dance. Not too pretty and not that ugly. Just plain. And it is filled with endless miles of corn and soy beans that are mostly destined for animal feed.
It was interesting traveling. As we would stop for gas, you noticed there was a communal spirit with people around you. Masks were increasingly intermittent. The stores seemed to like being busier. Travelers smiled at each other. The world was opening for business again and it felt like you were at the front door just as the employee was unlocking it.
I know the pandemic isn’t over, but it sure felt like it.
We took a side trip to the Woodford Bourbon Distillery. Neither of us know anything about whiskey. The few times I tried it I always thought it tasted vaguely of gasoline. It was Colleen’s idea to go. She thought it might be fun to take a bottle to the cabin to enjoy with the family, even though I knew she would partake very little of it. I have two friends that know a great deal about this spirit and I was always envious of their expertise. There was a culture here and a long history. I wanted to know more.
The Distillery is over 100 years old and Woodford is apparently a high end product. It must be. They sold souvenir polo shirts in the gift shop for ninety dollars!. The place is surrounded by thoroughbred horse farms with cupola topped barns that must cost millions of dollars.
I was determined to learn to like bourbon. Even though I was not completely sure of the difference between it and Scotch.
We drove on into Tennessee passing Godzilla sized church crosses and billboards advertising a hotel with an amusing alliteration - “We have Waffles and Wifi!” There were fast food shops I did not recognize and endless gun stores with signs that invited you to “Bring the kids! and Jesus is coming”
This country is filled with lunatics. It is perhaps the best thing about it.
We finally made it to the turn off and entered the forest. Emerald sunlight dappled through the tall trees as we drove the winding road deeper into the woods. The whole scene took on a Tolkien quality.
The spell was broken by occasional dilapidated wood buildings engulfed in weeds and draped with confederate and Trump flags. Hardened young men were sitting on a porch with a banner declaring guns are liberty.
When did a machine gun become the symbol of liberty? Did I miss a memo?
Moving on.
I managed to get Colleen lost. We finally found the correct turn off and descended to the cabin deep in the Nantahala Forest. Everywhere in the world felt a long way away.
Curtis and Rusty were waiting.
The cabin lies in a depression by the road and lines a stream which runs the length of the property. The stream is lined with Tulip, Hemlock , Magnolias, Paw paws, and Black Walnut trees. The water flows continuously and you are treated to the melody of clear, cold water as it falls over rocks and logs.
Curtis and Rusty maintain the lawn here in the forest composed mostly of moss and grass. It travels beside the creek like a long green carpet. It is soft and spongy to walk on as you step over moss covered logs that dip into the water.
The landscaping is exquisite. Curtis and Rusty have created a space that has a Japanese Garden serenity feel to it, yet at the same time staying true to the surrounding forest. Flowers and trees are planted in strategic locations that give the eye a pleasant focus among the towering Pine trees.
Curtis shares Colleen’s talents for gardening and landscaping. He built an extraordinary Asian themed rock garden along a hill side.
He will never admit it, but he is a real artist.
The cabin is ordinary, built in the 90’s, but solid and secure. It is painted a faded brown and ringed by a porch newly painted by Rusty in a redwood orange. Rusty is a handyman of professorial levels. There is almost nothing he doesn’t know about how to build and maintain. He can also really cook. He and Curtis are a good match.
The porch is the most popular area to sit. The mornings are cool. You can enjoy with a cup of coffee and watch the morning sun slowly paint the lawn as it breaches the tree line.
I did not pack well. I only brought light shirts thinking that was all I would need. I was cold one morning. I asked Rusty for a coat that I might borrow. He took off his own fleece and handed it to me.
“I can’t take the shirt off your back!”
“You will,” he replied, “because that’s what Gay hosts do!”
We laughed. It became the running joke for the remainder of the trip.
After a couple of days, Chris and Emily arrived and the cabin was infused with youthful energy. There were day trips to white water rapids locations and waterfalls. Adventure followed as we watched people dare the wild water.
And we took flight -
The evenings were the best. We would gather around the table as Rusty and Curtis set a meal before us. It was dusk with good wine, conversation, and laughter.
Perfection.
(Bocce ball - The sport of Kings)
There is no internet and no cell service - only tall green trees that reached upwards to a star filled sky.
Episode X was short. But it didn't matter. It had everything you would want in an adventure.
The beauty of nature.
Old jokes.
Good food.
Rest
Love.
Peace.
Family.
My family.
"Remember when the music Brought the night across the valley as the day went down And as we'd hum the melody, we'd be safe inside the sound, And so we'd sleep, we had dreams to keep."
- Harry Chapin
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