Post #3: The Mountains are Calling...

Montreat Gate

"The mountains are calling and I must go." -John Muir

Muir knew the mountains, particularly the Sierra Nevadas, better than anyone else in American history and it is due in large part to his own efforts that many of our natural wonders are preserved today (see Yosemite). There's just something special about the higher elevations that I enjoy, especially during a summer in the South.

Winter is turning into spring here in South Carolina, and before long our temps and humidity will be reaching unbearable levels. In an effort to escape the heat and humidity, South Carolinians used to keep homes in the Upstate or in places like Flat Rock, North Carolina. Our family, being the Presbyterians that we are, have enjoyed our trips to Montreat for (now) four generations.

Montreat is known as the home of Billy Graham, but it's home to many more Presbyterians seeking relaxation and fellowship than it is to famous Baptist preachers! I've often called it the most relaxing place in the Carolinas and I haven't found a place that proves me wrong yet.

Each year for the Fourth of July during my childhood we would rent Kirkhaven from the Allen family, a tradition my aunt and uncle started. Prior to this, my grandparents rented the Bobwhite Cottage for their family. We would go up and spend a week with our Brown cousins, and take part in "clubs" with the other Montreat summer kids. It was fun for us, and it allowed the older folks in our family time to catch up, relax or run into Black Mountain on errands.

Kirkhaven, the house we rented, was built in 1900 and sits on the corner of Calvin and Greybeard Trails. It is uniquely sided and fronted by two creeks, so at night when the temps dip down into the 50s and 60s we sleep with the windows open to catch the sounds. It doesn't take long to fall asleep and you forget it is July in the South.

Anyway, this year we begin a new generation within my family of Montreat for the Fourth. It's Americana at its finest: parade, fireworks show, barbecue, ice cream, watermelon, etc. It's a rite of passage within our family and it brings us all back to our roots... roots that favor family, devotion, relaxation and fellowship.

Montreat is a state of mind, and when I've gotten burned out from work or politics, I've made the trek up Highway 9 to the Presbyterian Mecca and have found why they named it Montreat-- "mountain retreat." It's a retreat from the rat race and the hectic nature that we're constantly in down here on the flatlands.

"The mountains are calling..." and I can't wait to go.