Having lived in Florida for most of my life, mountains are really exciting. The drive from Savannah to Asheville was mostly long and boring. My eyes were a little heavy from about 300 miles of just road and trees. But right before I drove into North Carolina, I started seeing them in the distance, and yelled “ohmygodmountains!” to whoever might be listening.

I headed to downtown Asheville, where a drum circle was picking up and calling me. I sat and listened for a little while. Someone just came up to me and asked if I was okay. I was rummaging through my backpack so maybe I looked stressed. I said, “yeah!” He said, “oh, good, you just looked a little upset or something.”  I took it as an example of the friendliness of the community, and I was right. Everyone else I encountered was extremely nice, asking me how my day was going as if we were long-time friends.

After I had a great dinner at a local-favorite cafe, I followed the music picking up outside. I felt giddy as more street performers started to come out, even in the rain. There was everything from bluegrass, a spoons player, an electric violinist, a woman sitting naked in the lotus position painted entirely blue, and another woman who took off her boots and danced in the rain in the middle of traffic. (Not sure she was exactly a performer, but it was still entertaining…)

In the morning, the air smelled fresh, like pine and the country. I had breakfast with my friend Paul from Sarasota, who happened to be visiting also, then I had the rest of the day to do whatever I felt drawn to. I decided that I wanted to drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway. But just before I was about to get on, my tire pressure warning light came on, so I stopped at a gas station and pulled up the the air machine. I started at it for a long time. I  rushed to put the valve on one tire. I had no idea what I was doing. Nothing seemed to be happening. My confusion must have showed, because someone came up to help me. Finally my tires were filled up and I headed to the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The road was really winding and narrow, and I had no idea what was around the corner. Sometimes a beautiful view of the mountains, sometimes a car speeding past in the opposite direction, a tunnel, oh, and a BEAR. I saw my first wild bear ever, a black bear. I turned a corner and it was hopping across the road like a rabbit. It startled me at first, but after a split second it was back in the woods. The ride was exhilarating, especially because it was a little bit scary and unknown. After all, that’s what this whole trip is about!

After a lovely hike with a 360 degree panoramic view of the mountains, I headed north again to my digs for the night, Snaggy Mountain Music Farm. I realized that I didn’t have any cell reception and didn’t have the directions to Snaggy. I had a map, though, with which I successfully followed to the nearest junction to take me to Burnsville, a very small mountain town – barely a town, actually, just a few scattered general stores, and ice cream shop and maybe some gas stations. I got slightly lost on the way and almost gave up, but finally found it.

There was a girl sitting on the porch talking on the phone. I hesitantly walked up empty handed just in case I was in the wrong place and asked, “Is this…Sna..ggy…moun…tain…?” She said yes and went to get Jared, the host. He welcomed me and showed me to an adorable little room with trees and animals painted on the wall. I found it very charming. There were chalk writings all over the living room walls, all positive quotes about life and music, a piano, and various guitars, banjos, and mandolins strewn all over. I felt right at home. I went to get my stuff from my car and when I walked back in, one guy offered to help me with my load. Then he looked more closely at me and asked,” Are you from Sarasota?” I said, “yes…” and then I realized who he was and said, “Oh my god!! Hi!” I remembered him as a teacher at a school where I worked with youth groups. He told me three of the other guys here were also from Sarasota. I couldn’t believe we all ended up here at the same time. There is always music playing here – we jammed all night. We played together in the barn while others danced.

In the morning, while it was still cool, I took my guitar to the hammock outside the house right over a babbling brook and plucked and it lazily while I gently swung back and forth. Andrew, my fellow Sarasotian, asked if I wanted to go over to Mountain Gardens, another farm. I said, “sure!” I was wearing a long dress and flip flops. Andrew said, “Oh, it’s actually a work party, so I don’t know if you want to change or if you want to work in that.” I said, “Oh…okay, yeah…I probably should change.” I figured work meant farm work, which I was excited about because it’s something I’ve been interested in, something else that’s totally different from anything I’ve done (I’ve killed many plants in failed attempts at “urban gardening”) and out of my comfort zone.

There were a bunch of other young, wanderer-types at Mountain Gardens. Joe, the founder and owner of the farm, was explaining what we were going to do. Everyone started picking up tools so I picked up a shovel. It was a lot heavier than I expected. I wasn’t sure how I was going to repeatedly pick it up and shove it in the ground. I still didn’t really know what I was supposed to do, so I just started moving dirt around, pretending I was an expert farmer. After a little while, I saw it coming together. We were basically digging up the earth on a hill to make beds to plant trees and flowers. We evened out the ground and I started developing a nasty blister on the inside of my thumb about 10 minutes in. About 3 hours later, we saw the finished product, which was incredible considering how we transformed the hill into a garden. We enjoyed some homemade pizza for lunch and drove back to Snaggy, where I felt like I had arrived at home, and immediately sank onto the couch from total exhaustion. 

Now I’m sitting here on my bed held by a hand-made wooden bed frame. I wish I could stay longer, but as much as I’ve enjoyed being in the majestic mountains of North Carolina, I am feeling the pull to keep pressing on westward.