“Banner Elk”

Banner Elk, North Carolina, was a favorite vacation spot for my grandparents during the hot months of August each summer.  Banner Elk was often 15 or more degrees cooler than our home in South Carolina, particularly at night.  Grandfather Mott Quinn Petty, a retired mail carrier and his wife, Johnsie Dulin Petty, a retired elementary school teacher, would invite my sister Jane and I to accompany them on their vacation each summer.  We were the eldest of the grandchildren and were considered old enough to travel, so we were invited to join them on their vacation.  They only had one daughter, Laura Catherine, and she was generous to allow us to travel with them.

The bed and breakfast inn (I never knew its name) was situated in a spot close to Lees McRae College in Banner Elk, and had a glorious view of the mountains towards the west. The sunset colors were especially vibrant and beautiful in the evenings.  The only activity I remember at the bed and breakfast run by Miss Fannie is sitting for the longest time on her porch and rocking to pass the time of the day.  Miss Fannie served a breakfast famous across the mountain. Both the breakfast and the evening meal were her specialty, but only her guests were invited.  I still remember her biscuits with butter and jam and the applesauce served only in the evening made from local mountain apples.  She served real sugar cured ham and sometimes even made gravy to go with breakfast!  We were allowed to read and wander around the inn, as long as we did so quietly. (This home is now remodeled and called the Perry House Bed and Breakfast, near downtown Banner Elk, NC).

During the middle part of the day, our grandparents would take us for a walk to the town center of Banner Elk, which was down the hill to get there.  Later, to get back to the bed and breakfast meant walking up the hill for a good long way.  My grandfather said, “This helps to develop your mountain legs.”  So Jane and I developed strong “mountain legs” over the three weeks we stayed at Banner Elk each August. We ate lunch at a small diner in the down town area. I never realized until I became an adult that three week vacations were not the norm for most persons.  I realize now how many things in my own life I have missed not adding a third week to my vacation.  Now, in the busyness of our modern lives, a vacation of more than 10 days is almost unheard of! I wonder if we even know how much we could have discovered if we had taken three weeks for every summer vacation.  But by the third week, however, even a young boy begins to miss the August heat of his home.  I think I now know why our grandparents lived for such a long time.  It had to be the three weeks of vacation at the end of the each summer!  Psychologically, three weeks of vacation helps a person to get ready to go back to school, or to teach in school, with a fully relaxed body and mind.  Only our church minister took a longer vacation than my grandparents.  He took the whole month of August and disappeared!  To my recollection, no one ever died in our community in August, otherwise, it might be weeks before they could be buried!

Occasionally, “Papa” and “Granny” as we affectionately called our grandparents would have an adventurous day and would take us to Tweetsie Railroad to see cowboy Fred Kirby fight off the Indians as they tried to board the train.  I never will forget being scalped by an Indian warrior who boarded the train when I was five.  I was sure I was going to die, but Fred Kirby made short work of him and I survived to finally make it to the end of the train ride.  The old coal fired engine billowed white smoke all the way around the mountain.  I even got a tomahawk of my own, with red and yellow feathers, just to be ready if the Indian warrior tried to get at me again!

Another day, we went to the top of Grandfather Mountain, which has the most glorious view.  Some say on a clear day a person can see at least seven states from its peak, but I was never sure if this is possible or not.  One time, much later, when I went with my grandfather alone to the mountain, we rode up through the clouds and just as we arrived at the top, we found we were above the top of the clouds.  Above the clouds, the sun shone brightly and clear.  The sky was a crispy blue color.  The white clouds stretched out as far as anyone could see.  They were so flat it looked safe enough to walk on them for miles and miles.  The only truly frightening thing at Grandfather Mountain is the swinging bridge.  I don’t know if this is still there or not, having not been in many years.  The “swinging bridge” did just that; the wind made the bridge swing between the two highest peaks of the mountain.  My “Papa” walked across this bridge like it was nothing!  I held to him terrified that I might lose my life!  Had he not crossed the “swinging bridge” with me, I am quite sure I would still be stuck on the thing to this very day!

The last time I went with my grandfather Petty to see Grandfather Mountain was the day after I obtained my restricted driving license.  He asked me to drive him to the top of the mountain and we spent the whole day together.  It was a beautiful early summer’s day.  He had a relatively new Chevrolet Impala which he let me drive all 113 miles from our home to the mountain top.  It was glorious and the longest trip till that time I had ever driven.  SC Hwy 321 turns into NC Hwy 321 and goes right up near Grandfather Mountain, so it is an easy drive.  On the way back we stopped to eat a late lunch and “Papa” got apple pie with vanilla ice cream and iced water to drink.   I had sweet tea to wash down my blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream on top.  I did not know at the time, but this would be the last time we ever went together to Banner Elk and Grandfather Mountain.

When we got home around 5:30PM or so, my mother asked, “Where have you boys been?”  I told her, “We went to Grandfather Mountain all in one day and drove back home the same day!”  She looked at me kind of oddly and said, “You know your restricted license in South Carolina is not valid in North Carolina.”  I was 15, but North Carolina required a person to be sixteen to drive in their state on a restricted license.  I did not know what to say.  I was really glad I did not know I was driving illegally at the time.  I remembered thinking, “I am so glad I sat up tall in the front seat!  At least I looked like I belonged there while driving in North Carolina.”

Tonight, I spoke with my sister Jane about the good times we had on a Banner Elk vacation with our grandparents.  I would like to dedicate this story to her, in memory of all the good times we had together rocking on Miss Fannie’s porch and dreaming about the way life ought always to be, with lots of shared love, together with our family, enjoying a long three week vacation!

Bill Wilson