Day 4 - The Hawthornes Visit Grandfather Mountain.

It's Saturday morning and the Hawthornes have left Mabry Mill
and are cheerfully driving along the Blue Ridge Parkway, again.
Please enjoy the views.

And I apologize to those in advance whose fingers are getting tired from scrolling and wonder why I didn't just pick out 3 or 4 of my favorite pictures, but that's like asking me to pick out my favorite child.

Action shot!

Ahh. Devil's Overlook.
The site of the automatic window/cooler/ice water/Alinea cookbook/crossword puzzle incident.
And that's for another post.

Homes on the hillside.
Boy, I'd love to see their view.

Christmas tree farms everywhere.

We arrive in Boone, NC, just in time for lunch.

After a third crappy continental breakfast this morning,
we're hungry and ready for a late lunch.

Quote of the week:

One cannot change the past
but one can ruin the present
by worrying over the future.

Ain't that the truth?

These were the best hush puppies I've ever had.
I asked our waitress if they gave out the recipe for the puppies and she said no.
Only about 2 or 3 people knew the recipes for the puppies and the cole slaw and they weren't saying. Plus, the recipes date back 21 years.
I'd love to have the hush puppy recipe, but they can keep the recipe for the coleslaw.
Coleslaw was not good. I doctored it by adding salt (which I never add to restaurant food, since it's usually already too salty for me).
The coleslaw could have benefited from some cider vinegar too.

My plate:
fried oysters, broiled scallops, and over-stir-fried veggies.

Mr. H.'s plate:
Calabash shrimp, baked potato, and fried oysters.

My take:

The oysters were good, but the batter was too heavy and there wasn't enough oyster flavor.
Shrimp were OK.
My veggies were overcooked.


We leave Boone, NC, and head for .....
GRANDFATHER MOUNTAIN.

Here's Grandfather Mountain, near Linville, NC, from the road off in the distance.

Early pioneers named the mountain "Grandfather" because it's ridgeline resembles an old man with a beard looking up to the sky.
Or maybe the early pioneers had been drinking.

From the entrance, we started on a 2 1/2 mile winding road to the top.

Once, the rock mass which now makes up Grandfather Mountain quietly rested beneath the rivers of a valley. A collision of the North American and African continents thrust older, Precambrian rock mass over the top of the younger rock, forming a mountain as high as today's Himalayas.
Millions and millions of years later, after the older rock masses had weathered and worn down, the tougher, younger rock came back into view. So, when you look up at Grandfather Mountain's rugged cliffs, you are actually seeing the extraordinary sight of younger rock emerging from older rock.

The name, "Grandfather," also reveals its age.
Some of the rocks here have been estimated to be more than a billion years old.

ETA: We're on our way up here, but later, on our way down the mountain, we passed the place where a small part of Forrest Gump was shot. Apparently, Forrest was running on a mountain hillside curve. I would have taken a picture - there was a sign. But we came up on it all of a sudden and cars were behind us.

We're about 30 minutes from the peak.
Check out the solid line of cars.

Here's Rosie at the mile-high swinging bridge.
I didn't notice anyone counting.

Enjoy the views from the bridge.

There's Mr. Hawthorne briskly coming over to the other side.

I did not venture to this outcropping.
I am not a mountain goat.

Rosie, on top of the world.

We left Grandfather Mountain and stopped here to shoot pictures
so you can get an idea of where we were.

Check out the bridge on the right.

I turned to the opposite side and saw this
on the mountain top.

Yet another raping of the landscape.

All of these were taken from the moving car.

I bid you adieu, Grandfather Mountain.