State

An 1881 Traveler Sees the Nantahala **!\«fhing о I so liko it in flic ЛИс- ghanieft." was bemused visitor's comment. NOTE ; Many descriptions of tlte Nantahala Gorge have been written. Here is one by a traveler of I -SSI, seeing the gorge for the first time, and seeing it under primitive travel con¬ ditions. It is taken from " Heart of the Alleghenies" b\ Zeigler & Gross- cup, published by Edwards & Brough¬ ton. Let us pursue the river from the Cheowah mountain to the Little Ten¬ nessee. It is a distance of twelve miles, and not once do the road and stream part company. At Widow Nelson's it is a white winding-sheet of rapids, as far as the eye can reach. A hundred yards by the house, and the mountains draw themselves together again. The road straggles around the foot of a cliff. The waters roar and splash be¬ side it. Overhead, the foliage is of a brilliant green, and the sky usually a transparent blue. By the dilapidated dwelling of Widow Jarett you soon pass. There is a cleared tract of land here. Across the river, with its foot in the water, one of the Nantahala range towers 2,000 feet above the val¬ ley. You must lean back to look up¬ ward along its green face and see the edge of the summit. Up one steep ravine is a trail leading to Brier Town. It is termed the Cat’s Stairs. Your mule must be dragged by the bridle if you attempt the ascent. Three miles down the stream, as you issue from the forest on the brow of a gentle declivity, a wild picture lies spread before the eyes. You are look¬ ing across a long pent-in vale. On one side the Anderson Roughs, lofty and impending, with steep ridges, one be¬ hind the other, descending to the river, reach away to where the blue sky dips in between them and the last visible perpendicular wall that frowns along the valley’s opposite border. The wild¬ ness of the scene is heightened instead of softened by the vision of Campbell's lowly cabin in the center of the narrow THE STATE. JULY 31. 1954 corn-fields. You sec the smoke above its blackened roof; several uncombed children tumbling in the sunshine; the rail fence close by its frail porch; and, beyond it. the limpid Nantahala. smooth and turbulent alternately, and filling the ears with its loud monotone. "Buck" Campbell is a whole-souled fellow; his wife, a pleasant woman. If you have time, stop here. Excepting the good-natured bearing of the moun¬ taineer and his wife, you will sec noth¬ ing inviting about the place, until the table is set for supper, out in the open air, at one end of the cabin. The meal will be an appetizing one. Between each bite you take of a smoking piece of corn-dodger, you can look up at the shadowed front of the Anderson Roughs (for long since the western wall has intercepted the sunlight from pouring on it), and watch how the shadows thicken, while still the sky is bright and clear above. The significa¬ tion of noon-day sun. as applied to the river, will strike you forcibly. Late in the morning and early in the evening the valley is in shade. There is but one room in the cabin, consequently you will all sleep together, and awake in the morning feeling that there is something in the humblest path of life to keep a man happy. Every morning, except in winter, a heavy fog fills the valley. This is un¬ favorable for the cultivation of small grain, consequently corn is the only profitable production on the Nanta¬ hala. Issuing from the cabin, you jump the fence and go to the river to per¬ form your ablutions. A tin basin is not one of Campbell’s possessions. You arc sure of clean water, however; and. leaning over the river's bosom, you have something to act as a mirror, while you comb your hair with your fingers. If you yell for it. a towel will be brought by one of a pair of black- eyed youngsters, fondly called "Dutch" and "Curly" by their father. Campbell says he believes in nicknaming his children; for he does not sec why they should go by their proper names any more than people should call him “Buck,” instead of Alexander. By 9 o’clock the mist has rolled it¬ self in clouds and drifted up the heights, a belt of sunshine is half way down the mountain on the west, and day has fairly dawned. If it is in the early fall, the drum of the pheasant may be heard from the near woods. The quail has ceased his piping for the season, but he has by no means migrated, as one might infer from his silence; for if you stroll through the fields, great bevies will frequently rise from your feet and start in all direc¬ tions with such a whirr of wings that you will jump in spite of yourself. I have started wood-cock in the wet tan¬ gles of the mountain streams, but they arc rare birds. Only two houses arc between Camp¬ bell’s and the mouth of the river, ten miles below. This sort of a solitude is not infrequent on a highway across a mountain range, but the like is seldom seen along a river. Rich forests arc entered just below Campbell's. The trees grow to an unusual height. With underbrush they cover all the land¬ scape. except the few cliffs on the sum¬ mits of the peaks, and at the water’s edge. The variety is something remark¬ able. I counted twenty-three distinct species of timber in one woodland. The road, at times, winds around the mountain 100 yards above the river It sparkles directly below through the trees. Across the gorge the Nantahalas lift their shaggy heads, at some points, like that of the Devil's chin, exposing bare rocks above the clambering for¬ ests. Storms through this section are fierce, but of short duration. With the wind bearing down the river, a flash »5