Mast General Store

On Monday morning, after my trek to the lobby at 8:00 AM to check emails… I couldn’t pick up the WIFI in my room… and the pool for a “limber up” swim at 9:00, I headed out to find the Mast General Store and all its profoundness. (The map indicated more than one place of interest connected to the store.)

Side note – Don’t believe the map–It lies. I went through Seven Devils just fine and turned at the next light onto Broadstone Road as the road sign said… from there, you are on your own.

Several winding miles later, the first building of the complex… the annex… appeared on the right with its own parking lot and candy store. Outside was mostly wooden Rocking Chairs, inside was mostly clothing… golf, hunting, hiking.

An inside door led to the candy store. I had no trouble by-passing the rows and rows of barrels of penny candies, but ran into a snag at the shelves and shelves of homemade jams. I bought a jar of Apricot Butter… my kind of candy… and rationalized that it was going to last me a lifetime.

Another sign indicated that the original general store was 2/10 of a mile ahead on the right. As I drove in that direction, I did not see the sign that said so… I did see a sign that said, “Parking in rear” with a large arrow… indicating readiness for abundant traffic… I obeyed, hoping I was going into the correct turn off and drove the one way entrance to the rear of the ancient building where I found another world.

With its one gas pump and fading tobacco signs out front, its P.O Boxes next to the toys and canned goods inside, this was, indeed, an authentic, still functioning general store. The sign said it was built circa 1883.

During my childhood, in the 1940s and 50s, there had been one very similar in the town of East Otis in the Massachusetts Berkshire Mountains… its owner was Ida Hall. It was not necessary to explain that one was going to “the store”. One simply said they were going to Ida’s… and that could mean anything from picking up the mail, to filling the car with gas, to getting a 5 cent fudgicle from the big red box freezer with the sliding top.

An even smaller general store on Granite Lake in Munsonville, N.H. was owned by former Red Sox baseball player, Joe Dobson, and not only housed the P.O, but also the fire department. But, that was 60 years ago.

This one still services its village of Valle Crucis as well as most of the tourists that take the time to seek it out.

The first section has the P.O., the canned goods, the toys, and the check-out counter. Here you can find the stone ground corn meal and grits, the wildflower honey, the oil lamps, and yes, Cloverine and Bag Balm salves.

The center section is filled with work boots and shoes… oh yes, and indoor restrooms.

The last section is dedicated to coveralls and such.

In between are bonnets (yup, poke bonnets) and dry goods and assorted items that would be hard pressed to be best sellers. And, of course the pot belly stove…right next to the cracker barrel.

Upstairs is where you may order a coffin. A 1920s ad proclaimed that W.W. Mast… whose policy was honesty and service… was a dealer in GENERAL MERCHANDISE… carried Goods for the living; Coffins and Caskets for the dead.

When you have found all the useful and not so useful items in the store, go out back and tour the 1821 Red School House. Education was a treasured commodity.

Banner Elk

On Sunday, I returned to Banner Elk. A large arts and crafts fair was being held on the school grounds… And you know how I love art… and crafts. Had a very nice lunch at the Banner Elk Café… Meatball sliders and Caesar salad. One thing to note – Sunday is a VERY busy time in Banner Elk. I think every person living or visiting goes out for breakfast. Waiting lines are very long… even though there are numerous eating rooms… some inside, many more outside.

Lunch is served at 12 noon… not a minute before… that is breakfast menu only. So, I had to wait just a bit before ordering my sliders.

After lunch, it was a short walk across the field to the start of the fair. There were wonderful items to be admired and purchased. People take such pride in their skills, be it fine art or photography or wood-carving or basket weaving or home-made jams and baked goods. It is a joy to see such fine work and to talk with those who are so talented… and proud of their product.

I tried to walk away… I did…I really did… but there was a water color of sea grasses at the beach that kept tugging at my soul. (It is now in my seashore guest room.) So, my goal of walking away empty handed was a miserable failure.

Did I mention that the scenery here is beautiful?  It has so many textures and shades of green. Although it was mid July, the colorful, abundant Rhododendrons were still blooming… and the white, pearly Yucca blossoms offered a sweet and stately contrast.

Several times I passed signs that proudly announced Lees-McRae College. So, of course I had to inquire.

You remember that Martin Banner came to these highlands circa 1848 and the area rapidly grew in population. By the end of the century, the Presbyterian Church was forming in the area. In the summer of 1895 Concord Presbytery sent a young student from Union Theological Seminary in Virginia to organize an established congregation at Banner Elk. In 1897, the newly ordained, Rev. Edgar Tufts returned to become pastor of the church.

In the winter of 1899, concerned with the limited offerings of the district school, Tufts took some of the young people of the neighborhood under his tutelage for further instruction. This small group, called the Class of 1900, marked the beginning of Lees-McRae College.

Tufts saw that this effort, although successful, was not enough and that there was a need for a boarding school, especially for the girls of the mountain region. A small amount of money was raised and in 1900 the promise of lumber and labor made possible the opening of a modest frame dormitory for 14 girls and one teacher.

One summer school teacher was Mrs. Elizabeth A. McRae. Knowing the devoted character of her work, Mr. Tufts, named the school for her. After a boys’ department was opened at Plumtree, Tufts added the name of Mrs. Suzanna P. Lees, who had been a generous benefactor. The Lees-McRae Institute was chartered by the state in 1907 and Tufts remained involved until his death in 1923.

When, in 1927, a fire consumed the Plumtree buildings, the boys school was moved to Banner Elk to merge with the girls school.

Lees-McRae Institute became Lees-McRae College in 1931, gradually eliminating the high school department to form an accredited, coeducational junior college.

In June of 1990, Lees-McRae was granted status as a senior (four-year) college.

Its motto—in the mountains, of the mountains, and for the mountains—defined educational opportunities and service to diverse populations.

Lees-McRae is now a four-year, coeducational, residential college offering 16 diverse baccalaureate degrees, as well as strong athletic programs.

The college offers degrees in business admin… Sports admin… The arts and sciences, education, humanities, nursing, and social sciences. It has an extensive sports program which includes volleyball, soccer, cycling, tennis, Lacrosse, and someone told me they had a quidditch club.

Certainly not the cookie cutter college with which we are more familiar.

Grandfather Mountain

Grandfather Mountain

As a McEwan, I love to attend the Highland Games whenever possible. This year I was able to go to Grandfather Mountain in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina… AND I was able to go for an entire week prior to the games… something I had not been able to do before. It is a beautiful area and I was looking forward to getting to know it better.

Previously, I had travelled from Ohio down I-77 to 40, then west past Wilkesboro to Boone. It is a good road, but rather monotonous. This time I opted to travel I-77 to Wythville, VA (there is no other sane way south from Marietta, OH) but, from Wythville I turned west on I-81 to Bristol. From Bristol, I turned south to cross the mountains on 19E and 194. This was good road, surprisingly, 4-lane for much of it, and well maintained for all of it. It also shortened the trip by about an hour. The scenery was beautiful and the slower pace was refreshing.

The area is called the Carolina High Country. It is nestled into the Blue Ridge Mountains at the western edge of N.C.. Highways bring you almost all the way… well maintained 4 and 2 lane roads bring you into the heart.

It is full of botanic beauty, colorful history, and rugged terrain. Its largest town is Boone, but Blowing Rock and Banner Elk offer their own stories.

After passing through the village of Elk Park, route 194 goes right into the engaging town of Banner Elk. Always interested in the origin of a name, I researched Banner Elk. It seems a man named Martin Banner settled here on the Elk River in 1848. Eventually, the Banner family grew to 55 members and the area where they lived became known as Banner’s Elk. This name was later shortened to Banner Elk when the town was incorporated in 1911.

Banner Elk is a delightful surprise. This sweet mountain village is planted on the broad, flat meadow that separates two strings of mountains. Standing at the base of the stalwart bronze statue of Banner’s Elk in the visual center of town. A strong arm could throw a stone and hit… from right to left… the school, the Chamber of Commerce, three art galleries, three real estate offices, the chiropractor, the post office, the Presbyterian Church, two gas stations and 17 restaurants… About the right amount of amenities to service the ski areas of Sugar Mountain and Beech Mountain during the winter and many planned cultural events during the summer as well as throngs of hikers, river rafters, Mt. bikers and golfers.

Lees – McCrae College is here and nearby is the formidable Grandfather Mountain. The topography is picturesque, the weather is delightful … sunny… mid- to- high 70s with a cool mountain breeze… and in the summer it stays light until 9:00 PM… a great time to spend the evening on  the veranda in a big old wooden rocker talking with the folks who have come north to beat the southern summer heat.

The one thousand plus residents live comfortably in homes tucked away from sight on side roads amongst the lush green folds of the forests.

My accommodations were, shall we say, retro. Oh, they were comfortable, sufficient, (albeit cozy) and centrally located. The décor was knotty pine with touches of Formica, wooden window blinds, and faded foliage wallpaper… with a meager wall of counters and minimal kitchen appliances for what was called “an efficiency”.

The lobby sported exposed polished tree trunk beams, a huge stone fireplace graced with an antlered Elk head, and, everywhere, switch plates of pressed tin black bears. I call it rustic revival.

I am sure it was once an upscale mountain lodge brought reluctantly into the modern travel world of condos with kitchens.

But, it was to be my home for the week, so I settled in… put my breakfast food in the mini-fridge and my clothing into the blond birch lowboy drawers. Then, I climbed into my one piece with the hole in the knee and headed for the pool to work out the kinks from the all-day drive in the car.

The registration desk had provided wonderful, informative, easy to read road maps of the area, so, after my swim and hiatus in the hot tub, I studied the literature to get an idea of how I would spend my week.

It was easy to rule out the zipline, rock climbing and river rafting…
I would save them for another time… I made note of the vineyards, the museums, the arts and crafts studios and galleries, and the multitude of other attractions that my less than buff body would enjoy.

(Photos from this trip can be seen on “The Untethered Tourist” facebook page. Click on Photos, then click on Albums.)