A Little Bit of Everything: Western NC, Part 3

Stealing the title for this post from one of my favorite Dawes' song of the same name. Unlike that song though, I don't expect this post to be a tearjerker (unless you're cutting onions while reading it). Since it'd be boring to share my big update at the beginning, I'm going to save it till the end of the post, like one of those annoying clickbait articles. 

Since the half marathon, I've been up to a lot in western NC: white water canoeing, hiking, more mountain biking, rock climbing, reading, lifting, pickleball, more running, job training (we'll get to that later), rediscovering my jump shot (still haven't quite found it), watching academy award winning movies, winning (B-League) volleyball championships, going to concerts, battling intense pollen allergies, and doing A LOT of dishes (gotta earn my keep somehow).

I won't subject you to all of that, but below are some quick hitters on the highlights (and lowlights).

Whitewater Kayaking

I've canoed twice since I've been down here. The first was on the Catawba River; the second was on the French Broad. Both times, I canoed with Justin while Miles, another camp director kayaked along side us. Miles and Justin met at a different western North Carolina summer camp as campers when they were kids. Both of them met their future wives at that camp. Both love whitewater kayaking. Both are soon to be fathers for the first time. And both now work as directors at the same summer camp. Talk about having a lot in common. For all their similarities though, they have quite different personalities.

Miles' staff photo is rather misleading - I don't know that I've ever seen him without a mustache and a hat. He also typically has on colorful 90's sunglasses and a graphic tee that is older than him. 

Alas, I don't have any pictures from on the water as it's not exactly a good idea to bring your phone on the river. I do have some photos from the drive over though:

The drive to the Catawba. As you can see in the top left, we opted for the regular canoe on the gentler Catawba. On the French Broad, we went with the whitewater canoe, which can flip much more easily, but is also much more agile and less likely to sink when flipped. 

The whitewater canoe on top of Miles' truck. Fun fact: One of the roads we drove on the way to the boat launch was the road where NASCAR first began - moonshiners would try to outrun cops on their way to Johnson City, TN during prohibition. 

We didn't flip the boat on either river, but I did fall into the river 3 times while trying to get out of the boat on the French Broad.

The Catawba is a smaller, less utilized river that had so much dense greenery growth on its banks that it felt like paddling through an Amazonian jungle wilderness. Unlike the Amazon (at least I assume unlike the Amazon), there were randomly table tops, signs, and other storm debris in the uppermost branches of the trees lining river about 10-15 feet about the current high water level. 

The French Broad is a much larger and older river. Miles shared that the French Broad is generally considered the second oldest river in North America (the New River is considered the oldest in North America and one of the three oldest on the planet). The French Broad had much bigger rapids and much more storm debris: 20 ft long metal storage tanks crushed like aluminium foil, floating coolers, clothes in trees, down power lines, and railroad rebar jutting out of the river. Despite all the debris though, Justin and Miles commented that the river still rode much the same as it did before Helene - it had the same rapids, indicating that the river bed was largely unchanged, unlike the Green River (mentioned in western NC post 1) and most other rivers in the area. Miles chalked that up to the age of the river. Most experts believe the French Broad is somewhere between 260 and 325 million years old - older than the Appalachian Mountains it cuts through. With Helene generally being considered a 38,000-year flood, Miles speculated that the French Broad has probably seen dozens, if not hundreds or even thousands of floods akin to Helene. With that in mind, it makes sense that a storm that so devasted the rest of the area would have fairly little permanent impact on this river. Put in those terms, I find it easier to conceptualize and appreciate just how ancient and fixed this river is. 

An Academy Award Winning Movie Filmed Locally

You could be forgiven for thinking the Academy Award Winning Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri was filmed in Ebbing, Missouri, save for the fact that Ebbing, Missouri does not exist. The movie was actually filmed in Black Mountain, NC, which is what prompted Liz, Justin, and I to watch it the other night. Liz pointed out that the site of the 3 billboards is on their typical run club route, and she got a kick out of people in the movie continually driving down this dead end road as if it actually went somewhere. Multiple scenes from the movie were filmed at the Town Pump, a dive bar in downtown Black Mountain, on the condition that an exclusive pre-release of the film be shown there before it came to theaters. 

The Town Pump. Site of many key scenes in Three Billboards Outside of Ebbing, Missouri. I estimate there are over 400 dollar bills pinned to the ceiling. 

Frances McDormand won the Oscar for Best Actress in a Leading Role, and while she did put in quite a performance, the film is not something I can in good faith recommend watching. Justin, Liz, and I were in agreement that this movie was a 3/10. The local landmarks were cool, but the laughably poor accents, unfinished story line, unrealistic timelines/character development, and plot holes left us scratching our heads. 

Keep Asheville Weird

I made my first foray into downtown Asheville for a concert featuring Holler Choir and Susto at The Orange Peel (a famous concert venue in Asheville). The theme of the concert was Black Tie-Dye Ball, so we all wore some pretty ghastly tie-dye outfits that somehow fit right in in downtown Asheville. 

A poor quality recording of Holler Choir

A poor quality recording of Holler Choir + Susto

A poor quality recording of Susto

Holler Choir - The lead singer is the brother of one of Justin & Theo's close friends

After we arrived at the concert, Theo (same Theo from the half marathon) handed each of us 4-5 stickers with motivational phrases on them. 

My stickers - I was particularly a fan of the one that said "Be brave little one"

The premise of these stickers was simple - we each had to find strangers to hand them out to. Initially, social anxiety got the best of me, and I struggled to work up the nerve to approach a stranger to give them a cheesy sticker. But seeing the ease with which Theo did this helped me overcome my reticence. With each subsequent sticker I handed out, my self consciousness died a bit more, and I soon found that I not only enjoyed the game, but that I had no qualms about dancing like a lunatic. Beyond that, I was surprised to see how much people genuinely appreciated the stickers; many put them on and thanked us for them (one dude threw his on the floor). Some people even came up to us after the concert and told us how cool they thought our stickers, tie dye, and dancing were. Suffice to say I think this social experiment is worth repeating. 

Susto rocks harder live than on his recordings. Small concerts are the best. 

Justin & Liz are going to be the coolest parents.

The concert crew (left to right): Theo (mastermind behind the stickers), Justin (whose shirt isn't actually tie-dye), Yours Truly (in the shortest shorts I've ever worn), Liz (who had to borrow a tie-dye bandana from Lauren), Lauren (the only person I've ever met who has actually been to Burning Man). 

We skipped dinner and worked up quite an appetite at the concert, so the only solution was a stop at Pie.Zaa, famed for their gigantic pizzas. We had to load the pizza box into the car through the trunk, and Liz couldn't get it through the door frame when we got back home. 

Walking through downtown Asheville, we passed one of the regular Friday night drum circles in the center of town. Didn't have time to stop this time, but I vowed to come back for one in the future. 

Windstorms on the Mountain

The winds were whipping the other night, and I woke up to find Harriet on her side. Luckily, there was minimal damage, aside from the windshield, which bore the brunt of the fall. Add another $300 to the motorcycle accessories budget. 

Harriet: Post Fall

Sweet Victory

Justin & Liz play on a volleyball team with couples who work at other camps in the area. As over half the team was engaged in staff training activities, me and 2 other friends were emergency substitutes for their semifinal playoff game last week. We took care of business.

All the camp folks were able to slip out of their meetings in time to make the final, so me and the other scabs supported from the sidelines. The regulars dominated in the final (as they had all season), but I'm claiming a hand in this W as they likely would have had to forfeit the semis without us scabs. Naturally, we celebrated with a round at The Town Pump.

The regulars with the largest amateur sports trophy I've ever seen (left to right): Caleb & Maddy (you don't want to be acros the net from their spikes), Liz (who wore all her winter layers), Adam (who is singlehandedly trying to make visors cool again), Justin (trying to camouflage with the sand), Kat (same one from mountain biking), The Hammer, Elizabeth 2 (all these repeat names are getting confusing). Not pictured: the scabs: myself, Clara (who quit her corporate job a few years ago to lead rock climbing trips and do film editing for midsized nonprofits), Forgot his name (Who drove up from Texas for the game) 

Wilderness Survival Simulation

A week ago, I hiked to Eden Rock, the best vista on camp property with Bridger (Justin & Elizabeth's dog). The way up was clear enough, but we tried to take the back route down, which had not been cleared of storm damage yet. Predictably, it started torrential downpouring and we ended up bushwhacking in circles and climbing through trees in search of a trail. When we did find a viable trail, it led in the opposite direction from where we wanted to go. What was intended to be a 4ish mile hike turned into a 10+ mile hike with multiple off trail forays and many ticks for both Bridger and myself. 

The good news is that Bridger thoroughly enjoyed this unplanned adventure and we've been pretty much best friends since (he's normally a little shy/tentative around new people). 

Bridger - The Ultimate Hiking Companion

Bridger overlooking Black Mountain & Swannanoa - The big warehouse in the distance is over a mile long

Another view from Eden Rock

Yet another view from Eden Rock

You guessed it - another view from Eden Rock

Landslide scars (as seen from Eden Rock)

View OF Eden Rock

Black Mountain (As viewed from Eden Rock)

A Small sample of what we bushwhacked through (pre rain)

These little guys were all over the trail

A red salamander - These little guys are super chill and like to hangout on fallen leaves

My iPhone says this is a Flame Azalea

A view from off trail scrambling

A mountain peering through the clouds

Up close and personal with a landslide

The moment I knew Bridger and I had rediscovered civilization

If you look closely you can see a red tailed hawk in the middle of this tree

The local goat farm

The local women's prison

One of my favorite views in Black Mountain

Felt pretty artsy taking this one

Looked more epic in person

The Update

Kudos to you if you've stuck it out this long. As you've probably concluded by now, my big update is that I'll be staying in Black Mountain longer than initially expected. The camp's blacksmithing instructor quit the second day I was in town and I volunteered to help through the end of June. 

You may be asking yourself: Is Kevin really qualified to teach blacksmithing? No, but I'm probably more qualified than you are. It's been 6 years, but I did do most of this stuff in a metal sculpture class in college. 

In addition to blacksmithing, I'll also be a cabin counselor next week. I've always wanted to be a camp counselor, but the timing had never worked out. I'll be the oldest cabin counselor on staff by almost a decade. Better late than never I guess. 

Wish me luck. I'm gonna need it to keep up with all these teenagers.

Bustin' off the rust - this later became a hook, I believe

Keep stoking the flames,

Kev-man-doo