The Road to Boone Part I

It was to be a warm, sunny Saturday in Charlotte and we decided to take a road trip to Boone, a cute college town in the Appalachian Mountains where we could take a hike.

It should have taken two hours but it took us five. That might have been all the antique shops, furniture warehouse, country store and flea market where we were compelled to stop along the way.

About 45 minutes in, we stopped in the town of Lincolnton where a search for “antiques” on Google Map yielded a couple of hits. On Main Street, most of the shops were closed and we were among only a handful of people in sight. Like many other towns we’ve visited, an antique shop or two were among the only ones open. We couldn’t be sure whether the others were typically closed on Saturdays or that they were out of business altogether.

Which was too bad. Had it been open, we would have loved to see what R&W Carp Juice was all about. The decal on the window claimed that it was “a legend”, “a flavoring company that offered a full line of carp suppliers.” Well that cleared it up.

On the other side of the highway, flanked by tall weeds and boarded up buildings, was an exuberant structure painted head-to-toe with a waterfall, whales, dolphins, sea turtles and other ocean life. We thought it was an aquarium, situated in the middle of nowhere. Then we saw that it was the Lamp Shades & Lamps store.

That was Lincolnton.

Back on the highway, another 45 minutes and a furniture outlet warehouse later, we reached Hudson, NC. Scott spotted the rows of wooden stalls that advertised a flea market and we made a quick u-turn. Rinky-dink flea markets are where you can find the best deals, assured Scott.

Most of the stalls had already been packed up and emptied except a couple of tables that displayed muddy jars, mismatched dishes, rusty nails and tarnished rifles. The open air stalls were rimmed by ramshackle shacks that said “Come on in.” We thought the invitation was nice but something told us to stay away.

In the back of the compound there was a grimy storefront that advertised baked goods where we thought we could get a snack. It turned out to be a junk shop with a back room that sold used clothes by the pound. A few bags of popcorn were on offer but I shook my head when Scott asked if he should buy one. “Cayome baeck aind sayee us agayin,” said the shop lady sweetly when we walked out, even as I eyed the long haired man next to her with suspicion. It was a relief when we finally got back into the car. We drove a little further and Scott noted a wire fence strung with old junk and an adjoining shack he wanted to investigate. As he was about to walk in, a man stepped out and spewed a wad of spit on the ground before returning inside. Once inside, Scott heard a woman hiss at the man “if yewr gonna smoke yew do it awtside” then turned to Scott pleasantly and said “let me know if you nyeed anythang.” Scott came out a minute later, not having found anything of interest among the tables full of ceramic figurines. I was glad I stayed in the car for this one.
We stopped for lunch across the highway at a hangar shaped hot pink building that was The BBQ Man, which goes by the motto “if we can’t smoke it, we grill it.” After the flea market, I was simply relieved that the restaurant was clean. We both liked the kitschy, country décor that showcased hundreds of photos and figurines of pigs, never mind that pigs would not looked so happy if they knew they were a staple on the menu.

We’re quite the BBQ experts by now and rated the brisket, pulled pork, and collard greens just so so, the BBQ slaw sour, but the free and freshly deep fried hush puppies awesome if a bit dangerous. We also liked the Brunswick stew made of vegetables, beans and meat – a pot of whatever’s unsold at the end of the day with a touch of tomato sauce.

Another ten minutes on the road brought us to Lenoir, NC where we stopped at the Black Bear General Store. They had firewood, apples, a dozen different ciders, jellies, pickled vegetables, moccasins, fudge, boiled peanuts, handmade baskets, pork skins, old fashioned candies and more. With several dozen sauces and jams we already had at home, we restricted ourselves to buying only two gallons of cider and a small jar of apple butter (which I insisted I needed but later excavated another new jar deep in our pantry.)

Half an hour later, we found ourselves in Blowing Rock where the main attraction was the rock itself, which jutted out from cliffs 4,000 feet high. The name came to be because the spot was so windy that if you threw small objects down the cliff, the wind would blow them right back to you. The Native Indian legend had it that a man leapt off the rock in distress, only to be blown back into his lover’s arms a couple of days later. I can imagine a Stephen King story in which people jump off the cliff and get blown back half alive and in pieces.

Another fifteen minutes and a full five hours after we left Charlotte, we rolled into Boone, finding ourselves covered by a cold drizzle.

Stay tuned for our next installment, The Road to Boone Part II.