Divine encounters

9.03.2017

We pull into the overlook, Richland Balsam, the highest point on the Blue Ridge Parkway at 6053 feet. At this elevation deep, dark green Fraser and Balsam Firs dot the immediate mountainsides. The feel is wilder up here than at lower elevations.

The day is clear and crisp, around 65 degrees Fahrenheit with low humidity

I'll guess there are about 50 people milling about, eyes fixed over the ocean of mountains, miles and miles. I don't how many miles, but it's a far piece. Large. Expansive.

Two people stand out - an elderly couple, both using rolling walkers. Delights my soul it does; they don't let their limited function keep them from adventuring into this beauty. The man stands on the north side in front of the plaque that explains the Balsam woolly adelgid, an enemy insect of the Fir trees. His wife rolls north on the sidewalk toward her husband. Hubby and I stand maybe two feet away from her husband. We move back slightly to the edge of the sidewalk to give her ample room.

"That's okay. I have plenty of space, " she states pleasantly. We acknowledge her with a cordial response.

"I walked all the way down there thinking that was a plaque maybe with a map on it. But it was a trash bin." She is speaking to her husband with a chuckle and hint of disappointment.

I wonder, Do they need some directional help for their drive along the Parkway?

"Are y'all headed north or south?" I ask.

"To Sylva," responds the wife. (I know that's south.)

After a couple seconds she adds, with a look of gratitude and deep connection as she points over the couple-feet high stone wall, "Believe it or not...we hiked up this mountain decades ago."

"Wow," I respond. "Was there a trail or did you blaze one?"

"Indian trails," she answers.

And then their incredible story begins. Hubby and I spend a good thirty minutes listening and asking questions.

In 1959, they camped in a tent for four months right there at Richland Balsam. It was the same time that the Blue Ridge Parkway was being constructed in that area. But they weren't there to help with the construction. The husband was there to collect samples of the trees and foliage and soil for his graduate project in Forestry at Duke University. He had a crew of around 12 people.

The atomic plant at Oak Ridge, TN, needed samples to serve as norms in order to measure the effects of atomic waste on soil and vegetation. Just so happened that Richland Balsam matched the environment in the Oak Ridge atomic waste area. Once a week the husband/wife team would make a trip from their campsite to Cullowhee, NC, and mail the collected samples to Oak Ridge.

As the Parkway was being constructed, trees had to be cut down. The forestry-sample-collectors had to stay ahead of the tree-cutters. Cut trees would not provide accurate samples. The two groups weren't at odds, but rather helped each other. They were also neighbors; the Parkway construction crew's campsite was just below the campsite of the student-scientists.

The Mrs. shares that at that time, in 1959, the mountainside was filled with Firs, and the aroma was heavenly. The forest floor was soft with fallen evergreen needles.

The couple shares their stories. The two adjoining Baker tents that was their home for four months. Making the trek to Franklin (I think it was) to buy "1000 board-feet" woolly-chestnut planks for $2.50 in order to build a platform after experiencing a flooded tent. Dignitaries that visited and for whom the Mrs. cooked and served meals, out there in the woods. The Cherokee "watchman" who hiked seven miles in and out on weekends to watch over the Blue Ridge Parkway construction campsite while the construction crew were away from camp. The Indian trails the couple had walked with the watchman who was tall and took long strides and never tired. The story of the golden arrow shot from Judaculla's bow that landed on the mountainside creating the Judaculla Bald. Blasting of rock and misfired dynamite that caused boulders to fly right over their heads and, thankfully, land without injuring anyone. The pack horse used to bring supplies up the mountain. And more.

Their eyes light up when they learn Hubby grew up in Bryson City and his mom in Sylva. A connection that can only be known by experience.

And another connection flows into the conversation. After Mr. graduated from Duke, he was stationed in Alaska. Mrs. went with him, of course. They know Dillingham, where our son worked this past summer. "Dillingham's remote. There was a fire there that we had to attend to."

Here Hubby and I are in conversation with these two folks, aided by rolling walkers, who were in this place 58 years ago when this was wild forest. Dozens of people mill about hither and yon with no idea that this couple witnessed this majestic land when it had not yet been tainted and altered by human construction. For four freaking months! And that, with canvas tents.

They had made the trek this August-September, 2017, from Delaware which is where they now reside. I think they visit annually to go to a homecoming down in Caney Fork with a gathering of folks whom they came to love and cherish from that summer of 1959. Their love for the land and the people, and the impact it had upon their lives is obvious.

Rich. Real. Humbling. I feel honored to have met them. It's one of those encounters I hope to never forget.

We say our good-byes. As Hubby and I stroll back to our car, Mrs. roller-walks to the driver side of their car. "I'll be glad to drive," she states to Mr. as he roller-walks to the passenger side.

I'm glad I asked which direction they were headed.  But they certainly needed no directional help.

***

In the week prior to the above encounter, it'd been tough disability-wise and emotionally. The week ended with Hubby and I taking a 3-day, 2-night trip to visit his mom and brother in Bryson City. That trip was rough too, same reasons. For our drive home on Sunday, we decided to take the Parkway part way. The encounter with forester and wife helped pull me up and out of my funk, at least temporarily.

I'm continually awed by these serpendipitous meet-ups with strangers. But strangers only in that we hadn't met previously, and probably never will again except in thought and heart. Well, unless there is life beyond this current earthly realm...