Originally I had intended to keep heading North from Charleston, following the coast.
However, word of mouth and local recommendation again directed me in a different direction, towardsAsheville, NC
It’s one of the longer treks Charlotte and I have made – over 7 hours if you avoid the interstates, so I plotted a short stop in Augusta, home of the Masters, to see if I could catch a glimpse of the fabled course. Unfortunately when we arrive, the gates are all locked, green screens are up around the course from the tournament, and I can;t even get close to a glimpse of the fabled land.
Augusta itself is a small town, pretty enough in a ok, happy to have driven thrugh it, but not worth stopping for long in way. It seems an incongruous place to have the most elitist, white guy golf course in the world, but there you go.
One of the joys of driving long distance is the National Public Radio Station (NPR) which delivers high quality news, analysis, entertainment and comedy programs. I’ve listened to FOX news and Glenn back and all the other right wing zealots, just to see what they are like, but even I can only do that for so long before I have to bring myself back to a balanced informative reality.
North Carolina is in the news this week, having recently passed legislation in a sneaky manner that prevents people from using public bathrooms that match their gender identity, as well as making it illegal for cities in the state to pass their own anti discrimination laws to protect gay and transgender people.
It has caused a huge uproar nationally, with companies like PayPal withdrawing from moving their HQ there, to artists like Bruce Springsteen cancelling concerts in the state. A full list of boycotting parties can be found here
With this backdrop I’m wondering what Asheville will be like – will anone be talking about this in the city (ummmm, no)
does anyone really care other than the politicians (ummm no), was I told to use a ladies toilet in a bar when the men’s was busy because “everyone does it” (Sure was).
It’s a gentle reminder, not that I really need it, that political issues of the day rarely are the concern of the average resident. That’s not to say that there are not those that are heavily interested and involved, just that in small towns, much of that State and Federal arguing is a little removed from daily life.
Asheville is a mountain town, located in the Blue Ridge mountains. It certainly has that mountain, clean air vibe to it. It’s home to any number of craft breweries, which I wend my way through in the next few days, and is a well used convention centre.
The day I arrive the great comedian Louise CK is doing an unscheduled show, presumably to test out new material, but no matter how I try I can’t get hold of a ticket – when I first drove into town, I saw a ridiculously long queue outside what looked like a club, and when I finally worked out why, it was sold out.
Bummer.
Asheville is also home to one of America’s greatest old houses, The Biltmore Estate, home of the famous Vanderbilts.
Now I’ve had the pleasure of seeing some of the great properties in America from the Hearst Estate, to Houmas House, but the Biltmore is on another level.
The main house is ridiculous, 4 floors of sheer extravagance, and surely ranks with the great British manor homes.
Gardens and manicured lawns set out in all directions, and on a sunny day it is breathtaking.
The tour winds through room after room, from a plant filled Atrium that takes up most of the ground floor to endless sitting rooms, bed rooms, guest rooms, studies and lounges.
They’ve linked each room with a movie that was shot on the premises – most are period pieces like Pride and Prejudice etc, and they show the original costumes used in the filming as highlights in each of the rooms.
The library is ridiculous, thousands of tomes in a room any bibliophile would die for. Oh the humanity.
All up the house tour takes an hour or so – my fascination is more with the kitchen and older labour saving devices such as washing machines and clothes presses, which by modern standards are archaic, but would have been an improvement on doing everything by hand.
After the house there are acres of gardens to walk around, but the other main attraction here is the separate Village and Winery they have set up on the property (to give you a sense of the scale of the Estate lands it’s about a 5 mile drive from the house).
Also intertwined here are hotels, where visitors who want to explore via horse, bike or other means of locomotion can stay for a few nights.
It’s grandeur on a scale I’ve never seen
Once there, I check out the winery, including trying my hand at crushing grapes with my feet (not that unpleasant to be honest) and a free tasting of anywhere up to 10 wines. Not that I try them all of course.
At the winery’s main room which serves their premium labels by the glass or tasting for a small fee, I hear the gloriously broad twang of an Australian accent from the next seat – it’s Samantha (an Aussie girl living in Chicago) and her friend Noelle. They are on a bit of a road trip, and have stopped for the day at the Biltmore.
It’s nice to talk about home for a while, and swap stories about how America is a little different, but the girls have a ways to go tonight before they stop, so we part ways after too short a time reminiscing.
Heading back outside, I wander over to the hobby farm they have set up (most likely to distract the kids) before settling down on the village green. It’s about an hour before dusk and the weather is perfect – blue skies, sunny and Goldilocks warm, which is seamlessly replaced by the warmth of a glass of wine or two as the sun goes down.
It’s been a wonderful day.
