#10, Blowing Rock, and Environs

 February 17 - 21, 2022

When I planned this trip, I knew that the closest train station to Blowing Rock would be Charlotte, NC.  However, that train would have arrived at 3:00.  When Alyssa and I took our trip around the US seven years ago, we did just that, and slept on the wooden benches in the station.  That was an experience that I would not want to repeat, for both safety and comfort.  Thus, I picked a station where I would get in at a reasonable hour, even though it would require a longer drive to Blowing Rock. 

I really do not mind driving, especially after being on the train for so many days.  And I would be listening to my beloved Mitford books as I drove.  It was very windy as I pulled out of Charlottesville, VA with my GPS set for Blowing Rock, NC.  All went well for the first few hours, and I stopped early in the afternoon at a Cracker Barrel for lunch.  And of course, I bought some candy in the gift shop.  Life is short, after all.

Quintessentially Cracker Barrel

Filling the gas tank, I continued in a southwesterly route into North Carolina.  Trucks seemed to make up the majority of the traffic, and often used both lanes.  They tailgated me no matter which lane I was in.  Sometimes I had to pull into the fast lane, just to get them off my tail.  The sky darkened and it began to sprinkle.  Night fell as the pressure in my ears rose, as I began the climb up into the mountains.  The last 15 or so miles remain a black blur in my spirit.  The fog hung like a shroud and the wind and rain beat mercilessly against my car.  Curves were often very sharp, and my headlights were inadequate for any weather.  My shoulders ached from wrestling the steering wheel, and my head, from squinting through the dark.  When my GPS finally stated that I had arrived, I could see nothing, so I just kept driving until I found a place to turn around.  Again, I missed it, but turned into the parking lot of a sister property.  This was actually where I would pick up the key for my motel, as they didn’t have an after-hours office.  The desk clerk here commiserated with me as she said that she had never seen such terrible visibility. 

Finally, I got to my little motel room at The Mountainair Inn.  It reminded me much of some of the places we used to stay when I was a kid.  A few rooms in a low building, with a real metal key to carry in my pocket.  This particular room could use a bit of fixing, but I won’t go into that. 

Mountainair Inn, Taken on a Sunnier Day

Realizing that I couldn’t possibly go out again, I knew that I was out of luck on supper.  I ate peanuts and candy and, after making myself sick, brushed my teeth and cried myself to sleep in the saggy bed.

Eats and Sweets of Blowing Rock

By morning, the rain had turned to a swirling snow, but being lighter, I could easily drive in it.  I found a promising breakfast place online and headed straight there.  Sunny Rock is a breakfast and lunch place, less than a mile from the downtown, and clearly a favorite of locals and tourists.  In order to get right in, I accepted a seat at their expansive granite bar.  As I had been craving a salad the night before, the meal in front of the guest beside me caught my eye.  When my server brought my hot chocolate, I simply pointed to her meal and said, “I’ll have whatever she’s having”.  I was called a “Cobblette”, a cross between a Cobb salad and an omelette. 

The Finest of Comfort Food

The Cobblette, and Best-Ever Grits

I liked the place so well that the next morning I went back and had eggs and bacon.  And grits, because their grits are seriously the best I’ve ever had.  At home my end table sits to the left of my recliner where I always have my morning coffee.  Thus, I like mugs that are printed on both sides.  Sunny Rock’s mugs were printed like “lefty” mugs, so I bought mine to remember this cheerful breakfast.  I may have to throw a shoe out to fit it in my luggage!

When I booked this trip, it never occurred to me that I’d be in Blowing Rock on a holiday weekend.  The town is really full of tourists.  Mitford fans will understand when I say that Esther Cunningham will be glad when it’s all over and they go home.  Restaurants are packed.  A couple of nights ago I was able to get into The Mellow Mushroom for some amazing pizza, by going really early, and accepting a table awkwardly placed in the middle of everything by the waiter’s station. 

The "Great White" at The Mellow Mushroom

Another notable food place is Kilwins fudge and ice cream shop.  Serving sweets for 75 years, Father Tim would have steered clear of this shop unless he had Sissy and Sassy in tow.  The red-headed twins would have stood transfixed as they watched the fudge being worked on the marble slabs.  Father Tim would have sufficed with the delectable smells that wafted out the door, to spare his “blasted diabetes”.

This morning I got going early to try and beat the crowds to Famous Toastery, on the outskirts of town.  Hoards of people were waiting for tables.  As everywhere in the country, they were short staffed.  I was able to get seated right away at their massive, live-edge bar.  My strawberry-cream cheese stuffed French toast was delicious, and the three girls running the place served me well. 

Strawberry Cream Cheese Stuffed French Toast at Famous Toastery

Today is my last full day here in Blowing Rock.  I’d love to eat at the restaurant across the street from my motel, The Speckled Trout, but so far it has been too busy to even make me take-out food.  I may end up reheating some leftovers that have been kept in the motel's shared fridge.  And that's okay.