Record high temperatures have blanketed the Carolinas. We find ourselves apologizing for bringing a sweltering inferno with us from Alabama. But we’ll cool down soon. Our railway car on the Great Smoky Mountain Railroad is air-conditioned. And they serve cold beverages too.
We stop by Bryson City’s Dolce Vita coffee and pastries shop for a latte and cinnamon roll. (They make excellent decaf lattes.) I take a seat beside a lady and a little girl. I ask if they’re locals. “We are. I’ve lived here my whole life. I own the business next door—Rita’s Hallmark. Where are you folks from?” she asks me. I explain we’re from the Montgomery, Alabama area. “Did you bring the heat wave with you?” I admit we did. The thermometer in the River Region was pushing 107 degrees when we left—one of the reasons we were craving North Carolina’s mountains.
“Could you take it back? This is very unusual for us.” I told her about our fly-fishing adventure the day before, how we had gotten down in the cold mountain rapids under the shade of the tall trees, how great it felt. “Did you fish the Nantahala?”
“No, we crossed Lake Fontana in a speedboat with our hair on fire. Then hiked up a tributary called Forney Creek,” I explained. It was quite exhilarating. “Seth, our dauntless young guide from Fly Fishing the Smokies, took us.” Seth was the most patient and amazing guide.
He went out of his way to show us old geezers a good time. We would probably have been seriously injured or killed attempting to fly-fish the Smokies on our own! It’s worth the effort, but if you’re over 65, you need to read the Liability Waiver carefully and BELIEVE it. I’ll tell you more about our intrepid fishing “date” in a future issue. You don’t want to miss it.
Cindy told Rita that she had seen her Hallmark sign and speculated that Hallmark had probably filmed a million movies around here. “And they should,” Rita agreed. And we concur. Bryson City is not only picturesque; its people are special. The town’s folk make a significant contribution toward explaining why this Western North Carolina town is such a desirable vacation destination. The people here have servant hearts. And, with much grace, they serve hundreds of thousands of visitors each year. This can’t be easy, I think.
In the vast parking lot for our train excursion, we met the friendly Scroggins family from Arkansas. They have travelled eleven and a half hours to experience the Smokies and, especially, to ride the Great Smoky Mountain Railroad from Bryson City through the Nantahala Gorge. In fact, we keep meeting folks from literally all over the country, if not the world. As we all walk toward the train, I hear a number of foreign languages being spoken—Connecticut, Massachusetts, Maine. But they all seem to comprehend Southern pretty well. All wonderful people. I think I even overhear one saying, “y’all.”
We board and take our seats. Enter our coach-car attendant, Connie. She spent 30 years working for the airlines and is super proficient at dealing with the public amiably and professionally. She establishes an instant rapport with her sojourners. “I’ve done it all (with the airlines),” she says. “This is not like work to me. I love this job.”
Connie serves, and simultaneously entertains, us passengers with great aplomb as the train floats away from the station. Soon, we’re cruising along at fifteen miles per hour, crossing a trestle over the Nantahala. This railroad bridge has been in service for over a hundred years. There’s just a little bit of kudzu along the route, but the scenery also includes stunning views of towering mountains and sparkling water. By-standers and river rafters’ wave to us from below. Connie warns us, “It’s strictly against the law not to wave back.” So, we do.
Farther along, Connie points out the oldest house in North Carolina. (I think I have that right.) It looks lonely, sitting down in a placid green valley all by itself. A young soldier who survived the Civil War built it for his mother back in the 1860’s. Cindy wishes to renovate it. I wish to move into it. Neither of our wishes will come true. But this is what a scenic train ride precipitates in our minds and hearts—dreaming—as we gaze from our large window, navigating time.
At breakfast on our last day we meet Mike Shaker, owner of Everett Street Diner. He goes out of his way to create a family atmosphere in his restaurant. For example, he believes in steering young minds away from the distraction of gazing into iPhone screens. (Doesn’t work with adult wives.) I’m enjoying the colored pictures taped all over the wall to my left when Mike steps over to speak with us. “These pictures on the wall, the only reason we do these is that they keep the cell phones out of kids’ hands. That’s just a terrible pet peeve of mine.
So, now, there are kids who come in and they make it a point to tell me that they left their electronics in the car.” We all laugh, and Mike steps away to lead the singing of Happy Birthday to a young lady who just turned twenty-one.
I have to say: I love Bryson City. I love its beauty. I love its people. And their attitude. I kind of think it’s a city of heroes. It takes heroes to serve others so well. This they do. Go see for yourself. More on Western North Carolina later. Many blessings.
Jeff Barganier is a novelist, travel writer and speaker. He travels far and wide upon the slightest excuse for something interesting to write about. His novels include Lawson’s Bluff (2021); The Slash Brokers (1998). He also manages Cindy Barganier Interiors LLC (www.cindybarganier.com) at The Waters in Pike Road, Alabama. Contact Jeff at Jeffbarganier@knology.net. You may print out his features at www.jeffbarganier.com and take them with you when you travel!