The last 4 years have been a bit volatile for most of humanity. Covid, rising cost of goods, political propaganda literally every hour of every day at least on this continent. I have been very public about how Covid reshaped my brain and thinking. If anything it’s prepare me mentally for this regional emergency and somewhat physically with my emergency prepping. I’m not that deep into it but I may be after this. My wife is very grateful for my outdoor hobbies.

We are temporarily indisposed from this hurricane. This is my longest power outage I’ve ever been through. I’ve been longer without power at my disposal when I’ve done some cross country camping but there have always been stocked gas stations, supermarkets or hell if I want to swing into town and catch a movie it’s an option. In the grand sense of things we aren’t dealing with shit. When I say we I mean my household. We have running water, we have food, a small generator, both cars filled with gas. Fridge broke but since I used to do charcuterie from my home in the summers I have three mini fridges in my garage and patio. We’ve spent the last three days sitting outside under an awning from my trailer cooking out three meals a day. You won’t hear a peep from me about our circumstances. We are better off than most right now.

There are people currently dealing with the worst week of their lives.

Asheville

For me Asheville is the gateway into my haven. When I refer to spending time in Asheville it usually means all the surrounding areas. Black Mountain, Mills River, Montreat, Chimney Rock, Hendersonville, Saluda, Blue Ridge Parkway, Burnsville, Mount Mitchell. Even as far north as Nebo, Morganton, Linville.

I call all of this the Asheville area out of brevity. If I’m not up there weekly then it’s definitely bi-weekly. It’s literally my second home.

I probably camp 80- 100 nights out of the year. Between my quick overnighters, weekends, three day excursions and before I opened this deli I was up to three week long trips a year. Of those times 75% of those trips center around “Asheville”. When I was building the deli and didn’t have the time to spend two hours driving I’d go an hour uphill to Chimney Rock. I’d go up to Hickory Nut campground, set up my little zen and rest my feet in the Rocky Broad. Summers are often too hot to camp but I found some relief camping by the river. I’d fall asleep with the river running through my mind. I would walk into town, have a burger at Burntshirt Winery and would occasionally sip on a beer just to feel normal again. I’d pay $7 just to sip on 1/4 of a Sierra Nevada pale ale. I’ve been very transparent about my drinking. I allow myself to have one beer if I want one. Still much better than 6 vodkas, 2 fireballs and Jameson.

I’d leave and walk back into camp and sit in my chair with my feet in the river and read.

I closed a lot of chapters sitting in my little chair in that river.

It canceled my stress properly. Next morning I’d brew some coffee, shove my head in the cold river and go for a walk in the village before 7am. All the shops would be closed, only vehicle on the street was a PFG truck making his deliveries. After a few stays we began to wave and say “good morning!”

I have no doubt by fall we’d know each other’s names.

I’d walk along the little neighborhood street that paralleled the village. The peaceful bungalows sitting at the in the shadows of the Rock. I’d turn off my earbuds and listen to the river while I walked down the quiet street. I text my wife “when life slows down this is where I want to rest.” This little street. I wanted to put my old feet in the river everyday, rain or shine. Let me sit on one of those wraparound porches, write and sip coffee until it’s time to get my day going if there was a need.

Simple simplicity

Chimney was one of my happy spots. It soothed my soul. When you find these places they become a part of you and vice versa.

I hate that I typed “was”

Everyone has their happy spots or at least I’d like to think so. If you don’t then come along with me for a ride and we’ll find you one. These have saved my mental health 1000 times over.

They are paramount to my functioning.

And they are gone.

My jaw dropped when I saw videos and pics of Chimney Rock. I didn’t believe it. I thought/hoped that it wasn’t a real pic. It was so goddamn empty that you couldn’t tell where it was. Until I saw the same exact mountain hump in the background of one of the photos replicated in a photo I had taken and then I knew exactly where the feet were planted for that pic of devastation. And i cried.

“Chimney Rock is gone y’all” – the voice in the video

Lake Lure is blanketed with the remnants of Chimney Rock. You can’t even see the lake. Just imagine had that damn burst..

The nice host at the campground. She lived there. Two spots down from the office. Couldn’t be more than 20 years of age. I grieve for her and her dog. I hope she left that campground. You have to cross a small bridge over the river to get back on that road. The other side is a mountain you can’t climb. That bridge rests in Lake Lure now. As does much of that campground. No one wants a storm this level when you live in a small cabin or even worse an RV. It bothers me that when I watch over head videos I can no longer pinpoint where the campground used to be. It’s completely gone. And so is a part of me

Asheville for the last several years has been my gateway to my happy spots. It was where I’d pick up my last minute needs going up the mountain. Sometimes I’d stop up on the way and grab a farm burger and walk around downtown. I do a lot of Christmas shopping when I up here for the holidays. I’m still of the generation that has to see and touch things before purchasing. If this makes me old then I embrace it.

I like to bring home things made by local people’s hands. It brings more soul to your home.

Biltmore Village

Arts district

I’ve walked a 100 miles in those places. Sometimes I’d sit by the French Broad in my truck with a coffee in my hand and watch it roll.

The road to Linville I-40 is gone. It’ll be 2025 before they even reckon with it. 221 will be a hwy now. That road was already congested. Imagine I-85 being washed away up near Pelham Rd.

I can’t. Can you?

I-40 rolled through the mountains.

I have no idea what my camping zone looks like up there. I have no idea if there’s a road left up there.

It was just a skinny gravel road to begin with. My camping spots might’ve slid down to Linville River or they’ll have to cut through hundreds of widow makers to open that road back up. If they need help give me a chainsaw.

I feel extremely selfish even thinking about how this has inconvenienced my camping trips when hundreds have just died. It’s not my intention. I’m only trying to get it out.

I went to Boone for the first time just last week..

In my head I’m having to tell my mind over and over “your resets have been temporarily closed. Don’t ponder on what you can’t control. Find another path. Your reset isn’t physical it’s mental”

Covid took away my resets too. It didn’t go well for me the first time. I’m thankful for working on a new perspective in life the last few years. It prepared me to handle big things as they should be handled.

Covid I give you credit for that. That’s all you get you crusty bitch.

When I’m finishing my work week my head is in the mountains. “Once I lock this deli up and heading to the hills”. That won’t be in my head for a long time now.

But

If this is the worst to be thrown at me I’ll be ok. My family is safe and healthy. So am I.

Remember how we used to say when the shit hits the fan you should run for the hills? Shit ran downhill this time. No amount of preparation would’ve helped Asheville. Mother Nature wins every time.

I hope to sit on this little bench in chimney again one day.