Last week having some business in Asheville, I started from Oxford at 1:30 p.m., spent the night at Salisbury on account of delayed trains, and went on through the mountains the next day, grand and beautiful as they were. We passed Statesville, Hickory, Morganton, Marion, Ridge Crest, Black Mountain, and Biltmore. Just after passing Old Fort we passed the Andrew Geyser, a small stream flowing into a pipe on the mountain side, flows out the end of the pipe in the valley about 50 feet from the ground, making a spray, or water-fall, beautiful to behold in summer, while the falling water freezes in winter, making a small mountain of ice; this Geyser was named the Andrews Geyser out of compliment to Colonel A.B. Andrews, a native of Granville County, and for many years prior to his death, First Vice President of the Southern Railway. This Geyser may be seen from the tops of many of the mountains.
Tuesday afternoon our party drove over the Biltmore estate, three miles east of Asheville; this estate consists of about 17,000 acres of land, bought up by George W. Vanderbilt, who beautified the estate by planting flowering shrubs along the 14 miles of perfect hard surface road, which he built on the estate, which drive goes by many lakes and waterfalls and goes twice in sight of his magnificent stone castle on one of the smaller mountains, which castle is of French design, and is apparently large enough, looking upward from the valley, where the road passes, to entertain Mr. Vanderbilt’s family, and the balance of the 400 at New Port, should they visit the Vanderbilt House.
On Wednesday, with a good chauffeur and touring car, we went by way of Black mountain and over many other mountains to the top of Mount Mitchell.
Some lumber men, a few years ago, bought the standing timber on it and several other mountains, and by blasting the rocks on the mountain side, made a road bed for a tram road from Black Mountain to within 500 feet of the top of Mount Mitchell, which is 6,722 feet above sea-level, and 11 feet higher than any other mountain in the United States, east of the Rockies, and after cutting the lumber and hauling it on this railroad, these men took up the rails and converted the tracks into an automobile toll road, to be used by tourists and people who might wish to spend a day in the mountains.
The distance up from Black Mountain is 18 ½ miles, and is made by driving from one to five miles in one direction, then making a loop on the side of the mountain and going back the same way you came, but higher up, and repeating this until the top of the mountain is reached, then going on to some higher mountain, and scaling this in the same way. We crossed the Blue Ridge three times, looking down many time son the beautiful mountains below us until our road finally gave out, in plain view, but 500 feet below the top of Mount Mitchell. The timber had been cut from the mountain side, and then the fires had burnt over the sides of the mountain, killing every living thing on that side, up to within 200 feet of the top It looked, where the dirt had washed off the roots of trees, like the antlers of many huge deer and elk, the naked stumps and roots being exposed. We immediately began to climb this 500 feet, which was accomplished by zig-zagging up the side of the mountains, and climbing up a steep hill, passing many panting for breath, some babies less than two years old, some with small children who desired to be carried, for one of these I suggested the cutting of a stick horse which enabled him to forget all of his fatigue, and ride up the mountain like a veteran horseman, much to the delight of his parents. There, after resting a while, we saw on the topmost point of Mount Mitchell, the grave of Professor Elijah Mitchell, for whom the mountain was named. It was carefully covered with small stones, picked up on top of the mountain, with a large stone for the headstone with no inscription.
It was about a mile and a half, north of that point, that he lost his life, by falling down a precipice, into a deep pool of clear water at the foot, he had gone from the University of North Carolina, in vacation, to measure the height and explore this mountain, which he claimed was the highest mountain east of the Mississippi River, and spent the night before his death with “Big Tom Wilson,” the great friend of Governor Vance, a mountaineer, woodsman, and bear-hunter, Wilson did not expect him to return that day, and after about 10 days, from friends having failed to hear from him, instituted a search, led by Wilson, when his body was found, as above stated. His body was carried to, and interred on the topmost peak of the mountain, which has ever since been known as Mount Mitchell.
We found it much easier to go down the mountain than to climb up, and at 3 o’clock, got dinner at a tourist hotel or dining house at the end of the automobile road. The water served at this hotel was especially fine, coming from a spring near the hotel, and as cold as ice water. This is a one track road, and tourists are permitted to enter at the lower end, u until 12:30, and no one is allowed to start back until 3:30 at which time all who have started up are supposed to have arrived at the top.
The descent of the mountain was easier than going up, the scenery, in the language of a Virginian, who was in the party, was gorgeous. We arrived at the bottom in time to take our several trails home. Delighted with the trip we had had and the scenery which we were informed, and were inclined to believe, could not be excelled, in this world.
A.A. Hicks From the front page of The Oxford Public Ledger, Oxford, N.C., Friday, July 21, 1922
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