Asheville, N.C.- St. Augustine, Fl.

Asheville, North Carolina- St. Augustine,Florida-
Tues. Nov. 7- Amherst. NY.

We were up early at 6 A.M. We finished packing, stowed our bags in the car and made ready for the day. The Polls had opened at 6 A.M., so we drove over and voted for our candidates at Amherst E.D. #89. Congressman Tom Reynolds was in the fire fight of his life. We delayed heading South until we could vote for him. After voting, we stopped by Panera Breads for coffee, omelets and the paper. It was chilly and damp out, a continuation of the awful weather we were having this fall.

We closed up the castle, drained the water lines and locked the doors. We would not see home again for another six months. We picked up the NY State Thruway and headed South and West towards the Pa. state line. The skies were clear and the roads dry. Four hours later, we had arrived in Waynesburg, Pa on the border of West Virginia. Gas was $2.19 a gallon for regular.

The mountains and valleys of West Virginia are beautiful in nice weather. We enjoyed the colorful vistas and sailed through this rugged state for four hours. A light mist was falling and rain was looming in the clouds. We had thought to stop at Beckley, about 475 miles from Buffalo, but opted to drive another 50 miles to Bluefield. It wasn’t a good decision. The heavens opened and a torrent of rain made driving the mountain highways an exercise in motoring through an elevated car wash. Finally, the exit for Bluefield hove into view. We had called ahead and gotten a room at the Holiday Inn($89). It was old and creaky, but clean and serviceable. We were tired from the day’s 8 & 1/2 hour drive. A gray goose martini chased away the immediate fatigue. We had dinner at the Inn. Salmon and chicken, with a plate load of vegetables, were palatable and made us forget the drive. By now, it was raining cats and dogs out. We were glad we had stopped for the night. We settled in with our books and watched CNN news for a time, until the sand man claimed us for the night.

Wed. Nov.8-Bluefield, West Virginia

We were up early, and had coffee in the room, while watching the National Election Results on CNN. Democrats had taken control of the U.S. House and Senate, in a stunning reversal, not seen since the 1994 elections, when Conservative House Republicans upset the apple cart. President Bush will be in for a rough ride come January first. Vox Populi , the people had spoken and they wanted change. Our own Congressman, Rep. Tom Reynolds, had narrowly survived the challenge in a bitterly contested race where both sides had spent almost $5 million dollars. What price Glory?

It was damp and chilly out, in the 40’s, with a slight rain falling. We drove Rte.#52 South and picked up Interstate # 79 South again, into Fancy Gap, Virginia. There, we stopped for gas and coffee. We were about to traverse much of the famed “Blue Ridge Parkway.” It is an incomparable feat of engineering. A two lane highway, that hugs the mountain crests, at the the 3700 foot level, and runs from Charlottesville, in Central Virginia Westwards to Tennessee. It had been built in the early 1900’s. The effort and labor involved must have been considerable.

The first few hours, we drove at a leisurely pace, enjoying the leafy orange remnants of what must have been a glorious autumn showing. There were few other cars on the Parkway. We drove up, down and around the Monte Carlo style raceway. You had to drive with one foot on the brake to accommodate the rising and falling curves of the roadway that hugged the mountain crests. It got much more interesting as I cranked up the speed, from a legal and sedate 40 mph, to an interesting and trooper baiting 60 mph. The curves were dizzying. You would round a slalom and come out onto a vista of valleys and hills stretching far beyond. It was impressive and visually attractive by any standard.

About 3 hours into the slalom run, we exited into the quaint tourist town of Blowing Rock, NC. We had been here with friends some 24 years before. It is upscale and loaded with B & B’s, tourist curio shops and restaurants. It was windy and cool here, in the Carolina mountains. We walked though town for a bit and then stopped at “Tijuana Fats” for a pleasant, if filling, lunch of burritos, rice and beans.

After lunch, we saddled up and reentered the parkway. Sections of the road periodically wash out like PCH #1 at Big Sur, in Ca. We traversed a few detours, enjoying the local scenery. We had stayed with friends in Crossnor, near Linville, for a week and enjoyed again seeing the sign names and the long distant remembered vistas of Grandfather Mountain and Linville Falls. We had to detour onto Rte. #226 South, because of a section of road was washed out. We followed it through the rural areas. Some times we were looking onto communities little changed since the 1950’s. “Deliverance” was filmed in the area and still could be today.

We picked up newly constructed and four lane Rte. #40. It would take us South & West into Asheville,N.C. The last ten miles felt like we were driving straight up into the mountains. It was misty and 59 degrees out as we finally sailed into Asheville,N.C. We exited onto Rte. #240 and followed it into exit # 5A., heading North on Merrimount. A right turn onto E.Chestnut and a Left onto Liberty Street brought us to the delightful B& B “Beaufort House.” It is a charming, three-story, gabled-roofed Victorian from another era. We met Robert Glasgow, the proprietor, on entering. He is a Canadian and had grown up about 10 miles from us in Chippewa, along the Niagara River. Small World.

For $170 per night, we had booked the “Ivy Terrace” room at the Inn. It is a former servants quarters on the first floor of the dwelling. Though small in size, it has the most enormous jacuzzi that I had ever seen. Eight people could sit in it and still have room. We unpacked our gear and settled in. The B& B has a huge formal dining room, a separate parlor, complete with bay window, and features hard wood floors and paneling throughout. Robert’s wife is a local art teacher. Prints of James Tissot’s and Renoir’s paintings graced the walls. New Age music,from Enya , floated ethereally through the comfortable rooms and 14’ ceilings. Breakfast is served every day at 8:30 A.M. sharp. We were to find it both gourmet and delicious.

We were tired rom the 270 mile slalom ride through the Blue Ridge, but determined to see the town. We walked along busy Merrimount, to Asheville’s business section. We strolled along colorful Lexington St., enjoying the eclectic array of artful boutiques and college-type rental shops. We had decent coffee in “Izzie’s” and scoped the area out. On the way back, we stopped at “ Greenlife.” It is a 60's style, organic foods store. We watched an array of aging 1960’s types buy natural foods and chat about all the ethereal stuff that was a product of that crazy era. They say if you can remember the 60’s, you didn’t experience them. I can agree with that . I am always amazed to see pockets of such anachronistic remnants,like Asheville, popping up in the far, back country. Like Taos,N.M, and other mystical settlements, Asheville attracts an element of the “New Age” Crowd who seem to thrive in these remote areas.

We settled into our room to read, with a glass of cabernet, some cheese, apples and nuts. It had been a long day since Bluefield, W.Va.

Thurs. Dec 9- Asheville, North Carolina

We were up early. at 7:00 A.M. We prepped for the day and watched the news on CNN. We were early for the 8:30 A.M. breakfast, so we had coffee in the Victorian parlor and talked with couples from St. Augustine, Atlanta and North Carolina. Then, we all sat down to a gourmet breakfast of orange juice, yogurt and fruit parfait and an egg soufflé, with coffee. It was wonderful. After breakfast, we set out at 9:30 A.M. for the most famous attraction in the area, the Biltmore Estate. Driving Rte. #25 South for about five miles, brought us into the Biltmore Estate area. Motels, shops and other commercial attractions all cluster around the gates to this 8,000 acre estate. We stopped at the ticket kiosk area. For $65 each, we purchased tickets that would enable us to get into the grounds and the mansion today, this evening and tomorrow morning.

The grounds are lush with trees and small creeks. Frederick Law Olmstead had been employed by the Vanderbilts to scupt the entire original 100,000 acres of the estate. The result is a free standing arboretum of trees and other flora that are eye soothing and peaceful. We drove the the short distance to the Mansion and parked in an adjoining area that would hold several hundred cars. In peak season, the estate handles thousands of visitors daily.

We walked through a small woods to come upon an elongated park area that frames the front of the Mansion. Even in the distance, the building is impressive. Built in a French Gothic style, It has three main wings and a smaller service wing. Four stories high, it features the sharp peaks and buttresses of a notre dame style construction. Even at this distance we could see the leaded windows and spiral staircase outline in the central wing. This place had been built to impress. The Vanderbilts had built this mountain retreat in 1889-1895. Thousands of local workmen had been employed for years to craft the grounds and estate structures. The family had kept no records of the cost, perhaps to avoid the tackiness involved when reporters mentioned cost of the regal opulence of the place.

The Mansion has 35 guest bed rooms, several parlors, libraries, game rooms and sitting areas, all circling around a huge main reception area with a circular, marble, winter garden that sits in a rotunda. The grand staircase, rises three floors in a marble and hard wood spiral dominating the front of the house. In the basement area, a huge indoor pool, the first of its kind in America, is still magnificent. A small bowling lanes and many kitchen facilities and servants quarters take up much of that floor. We wandered along the directed tour enjoying the visual feast that is here before you. Constructed of native hardwoods and paneling, many tapestries, animal heads and bric a brac line the carpeted hallways. Two Renoirs in the master bedroom and a few John Singer Sargent portraits give color and life to the Victorian Museum. Baronial is the only adjective that fits the place. It reminded me of the Hearst Castle in San Simeon, Ca, These palaces were built in the era before Income Taxes. We will never see their like again unless Bill Gates gets a hankering for recreating the splendor of 19th century, European royalty.

After two hours of wandering the mansion, we returned to our car and drove three miles to the estate’s winery. We toured the vats and production areas of the winery and then sampled several varietals in the tasting room. Biltmore’s Lion Crest Cabernet is appealing to me. The other wines, though good, have a distinctive after taste of vanilla that comes from their oaken barrels. It is an acquired taste. A small bistro sits next to the winery and attracts lunchers. The farm museum also shares the grounds. We would visit it tomorrow.

We drove a mile or so to the nearby Biltmore Inn. The Inn is eight stories in height and features a grand balcony facing the mountains and forests. We walked through the Inn, admiring the spacy opulence. Rooms start here at $350 a night. We sat on the terrace and sipped a glass of Lion Crest Cabernet, while basking in the warm 69 degree sunshine. The view and the Inn are inviting if you can afford the tab.

From the Inn, we drove over to the Deer Park Restaurant and Lioncrest Banquet Hall to admire the grounds. Both are large. The restaurant comes well recommended, though it is pricey. Behind the complex sits a stables where you can rent horses for riding the trails of the estate.
It was sunny and nice out. The grounds are bucolic and restful. BY 2:30 P.M., we were tiring. We drove back to the B & B for a short nap. We were to return to the estate this evening to see the house dressed in all of its Christmas decorations.

At 5:30 P.M. we drove back to the estate. Shuttle busses ferried everyone from the parking areas to the fully lit mansion. We were early, so we had coffee in the Mansion’s former stable and carriage house. It now houses a small bakery, restaurant and two gift stores. The mountain air was cooling as we lined up for our 7:00 P.M. admission. Unfortunately, all tour bus cargoes get priority entrance. Several hordes of them entered the mansion before us. The grand oaken doors swung open for us promptly at 7:00 P.M. and we walked into the well lighted entrance foyer. The Winter Garden was filled with bright red Poinsettias and other colorful flowers. A choral group was singing Christmas Carols. It was warm and cozy, as the Vanderbilts had intended it to be.

We picked up headsets for the slow-moving, self-guided tour and joined the line of fellow visitors. It was a slow go. We were glad that we had come earlier in the day. We lasted through two floors of the slow, cattle moving, herd of a line, before we bailed out. We returned to the Winter Garden and listened to the choral group sing Christmas Carols. It was enjoyable. The 125,000 square foot mansion is adorned with 35 fully decorated Christmas trees, with garlands and lights aplenty. It really does give you a feel for Christmas. In the Mansion forecourt, we boarded a shuttle for the ride back to our car. The staff is both organized and efficient in their people moving here. We then drove several miles across the estate. Everything was dark as ink in the mountain night. Finally we emerged from the estate entrance gate and drove back to our B & B. It had been a long and interesting day viewing a slice of life from an era long past. We settled in, with a glass of cabernet, read our books and awaited the arms of Morpheus.

Friday, Nov. 10- Asheville, N.C.

We were up early at 7 A.M., showered and prepped for the day. We sat down to breakfast with several couples rom Pa. and the Carolinas. A Willard Scott look-alike was interesting conversationally. The Belgian waffles were delicious. After breakfast, we set off again for the Biltmore Estate. We stopped first outside the gate, at an upscale shopping area called the “Biltmore Shops.” We browsed for a time an then entered the estate, heading for the “outdoor experience,” next to the working farm. It was a Veteran’s day holiday and the grounds were already starting to fill up. For $40, we rented two space age, hi tech bicycles, with 1100 forward speeds.

The bike trail up the hill was rough but manageable. A sole mare stood in her paddock, munching grass contentedly. We then veered off into narrow forest paths that are as wide as a goat track and laden with roots and other life threatening objects to bike riders. We traversed the heavily wooded paths for an hour until good sense prevailed. We headed back down the hill for the relative ease of a paved bike path. It took us along the rapidly flowing French Broad River. Hay fields stretched along the River,completing the rural visage. We peddled our space age bikes along the river, enjoying the sunshine and the warm day. A string or horses with their gaudily clad, mounted tourists cantered along one of the nearby paths. The grounds of the estate are both restful and beautiful.

After a few hours, and ten or so miles, we were tiring. We peddled up to the farm area. A blacksmith was hammering out angle iron. A small store dispensed sandwiches and other tourist fodder. We opted for ice cream cones and ate them while the smithy hammered at his forge. Around us were old horse drawn plows, harrows, discs and other implements that had been used on the estates self-sustaining farm. We returned our jet bikes and saddled up the automotive chariot.

From the Biltmore Estate, we drove along Charlotte Ave. to the Grove Park Inn. It is both elegant and pricey. It features an eye appealing golf course on its grounds. It also was the first day of a Gingerbread House exhibit. The parking areas were full, wall to wall. We drove through the surrounding area admiring the pricey homes. This is Asheville when you have arrived. A nearby starbucks beckoned us in for coffee afterwards. The afternoon was getting long and we were tiring.

At the Beaufort B & B, we sat in rocking chairs, on the large verandah in the warm sunshine, and read our books, enjoying the leafy ambiance of the mountain air. ( “Upsetting the Balance”- Henry Turtledove)
4:00 P.M. drifted by while we read. The Inn set out some decent Chardonnay with cheese and crackers. We sat sipping wine, with couples from Northport, Fl and Atlanta Ga. It really is a civilized way to meet and chat with folks from all over.

For dinner, we drove 7 blocks (lazy, yes) over to a small restaurant named “Catterina Trattoria.” The owner is a Sicilian import. We made small talk in Italian with him, while we enjoyed a glass of Montepulciano.
The Fruti Di mare for me, and sausage with white beans and pasta for Mary, were both benissimo. We returned to the B & B, watched the T.V. news for a time and then surrendered to the sandman. It was time to leave this idyllic mountain retreat and head South for Florida.

Sat. Nov.6- Asheville, N.C.

We were up early at 6:45 A.M. It was chilly and damp out, at 45 degrees. We packed our gear, prepped for the day and then made ready to leave. I stopped by the kitchen, to tell the cook that we would not be joining them for breakfast. The sky was lightening as we made a stop at a Starbucks, on Charlotte Ave. for coffee, before setting out for the day.

We followed Rte. #240 West to Route #26 South. Traffic was surprisingly heavy for a Saturday morning in the mountains. The mist and vapor, of a mountain morning, still hung in the air. You can readily see why they call these hills “ The Smokies.” Columbia ,S.C. hove into view as the air warmed. We sailed through it, on our way to picking up Rte.#95 South, the main North South arterial for the East Coast. The traffic there was heavy as it usually is. We sailed along effortlessly through the pine forrest of Georgia. I thought then of my Father. He had worked, as a teenager, doing Forestry work in the Pine Forests of Georgia for the WPA programs, during the great depression,alone and far from home. Then, the welcome green and palm-lined visage of Florida arose on the horizon. I am always happy to cross into this sun kissed state. The traffic around Jacksonville was messy, as it always is. We didn’t know until later that a several car accident happened just behind us, with two deaths. Traffic was tied up, and the interstate closed, for hours. Timing is everything in life.

Seven and one half hours, and 500 miles later, we got off onto exit #305, at St. Augustine. We followed signs for Rte. A1A. It led us to the beach area of St. Augustine. We found a small Best Western, where we had made reservations from the road. ($79)We checked in and unloaded our gear. I wasn’t feeling well, a vestige of bronchitis that had plagued me for the last few weeks. The condition had been exacerbated by the damp of the mountain air. We walked over a few blocks to a nearby drug store and bought some over the counter cold remedies.

On the walk back, we stopped into a nearby restaurant for dinner. “Zaharias” is a small, family-owned place. We enjoyed salads, blackened salmon and chicken and vegetables in this agreeable eatery. After dinner, we walked back to the hotel, enjoying the warmth of the early evening sea side air. A glass of Merlot was enjoyable, as we read our books and settled in for the night. Rooms nearby held Jacksonville Jaguar fans in town for the football game tomorow. They talked till the wee hours. Good drugs had made me oblivious to their chatter.

Sunday Nov.- St.Augustine, Fl.

We were up at 6:30 A.M. A cold snap, for Florida, had dragged the temps down to a chilly 50 degrees. We showered and prepped for the day, then enjoyed some breakfast at the Inn, in the lobby area. Rte. A1A led us to Rte. #1 and took us about 25 miles to the nearby Golf Hall of Fame complex. A good sized central lake is surrounded by commercial shops, a large I-Max Theater, a hotel and the actual Golf Hall of Fame building. Two championship, 18 hole golf courses are here. They already had foursomes lined up to play, even on this chilly morning.

We walked around the Lake, enjoying the evenly spaced banners of Golf Champions already admitted to the Hall. Nicklaus, Palmer, Trevino, Singh and a cavalcade of others had named pennants flapping in the morning breeze. Tiger Woods isn’t eligible until he is forty years old. Any assemblage of Golf Champions without him seems incomplete. The LPGA has no age limits, so 35 year old Annika Sorenstam, Babe Zaharias and a host of other LPGA greats already had their names enshrined. The complex didn’t open till after 1 P.M., on a Sunday, so we enjoyed the chilly peace of the area for a time, then set off for St. Augustine. We would come back later this afternoon.

Twenty miles south of the PGA complex, is storied St. Augustine, the oldest city in North America. Its central hub is touristy, filled with historic attractions and motels. We had been here before and enjoyed the Spanish style ambiance of the historic city. We parked in the lot, of the old stone fortress, that had guarded the City's harbor since the 1700’s. It is impressive and militarily imposing, like the El Moro complex in San Juan P.R. In our early history, there had been a deadly rivalry between Catholic Spain, the European discoverers and owners of Florida, and the English Protestants to the North in Georgia and Carolina. Both sides had committed documented massacres on each other’s citizens for religious reasons. Time has little changed events since then.

We walked through the small alleys of the central city. It is laden with tourist shops, geared to families. It looks and is tacky to the max. We walked over towards Flagler University. The red tile roofs and stuccoed sides, of the attractive, Spanish style college buildings are architecturally interesting. We had some good coffee on the terrace of the pricey Casa Monica and enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the tourist traffic. It was a holiday weekend and the hotels were SRO.

Across the street, from the Casa Monica, is a small and attractive city park. Behind it, sits another architectural curiosity, the Lightner Museum. Spanish styled and three stories in height, it had been a public baths and spa during the early 1900’s when Flagler had almost single handedly developed the Florida transportation infrastructure. It now houses a fascinating collection of porcelain, crystal, pricey statuary and other detritus of society that had been collected by Felix Lightner, a Chicago Publisher. During the early years of the great depression, when many had been forced, by the collapse of wall street, to sell off their family’s accumulated wealth, Lightner had bought up valuable household furnishings for a song. Porcelain, from Meissen Germany, crystal from everywhere and all manner of pricey bric a brac, now sit in a studied portrait of another era in time. We wandered through the collection, enjoying the fragile mementos of a society in turmoil, captured in sold-off heirlooms, family heartache etched forever in each of them.

From the Lightner Museum, we walked back to the Columbia Restaurant, a favorite of ours. They have other branches in Tampa, Sarasota and Miami. It is open-courted, airy in the Spanish style, and has great food. The black bean soup and caesar salads, with iced tea, were wonderful. ($28)

It was 63 degrees out, sunny and warming as we walked through the historic streets. The many tours were already crammed with outlanders admiring the buildings in the historic district. The Atlantic Ocean was a royal blue off shore. The rising sea breeze ruffled the various ensigns on the many boats moored in the city’s marina. We retrieved the chariot, from the Fortress parking lot, and drove back along Rte. # 1 North, for the Golf Hall of Fame complex.

There, we entered the spacy Hall of Fame. ($16 each) It had just been completed a few years before. A short film introduced us to the history of the game. We wandered the many exhibits, of players and equipment, from the sport over the last three hundred years. It is a little short on exhibits right now. Maybe in the future it will fill up. Gary Player must have been an early and enthusiastic supporter. The South African has much equipment and considerable space devoted to his career. The most interesting exhibit is a simulated locker room. The cherry wood lockers all have brass nameplates on the doors of the various inductees. Inside each locker are clubs, articles of clothing and other mementos of the inductees. In time, it will become a fascinating repository of the sport’s most famous players.

As part of our admission, we were entitled to play 18 holes of “putting golf.” We got putters and a ball, from the starter, and dutifully played 18 holes of putting golf, on actual putting surfaces. It was fun and more of a challenge than you remember from the old “miniature golf” days. We missed just as many putts as well.

From the Golf Hall of Fame Complex, we drove South along U.S. #1. It was sunny an warm out. We stopped by the St.John’s County pier for a brief “Chevy Chase” view of the Atlantic Ocean before driving back towards the hotel. We discovered a Starbucks near a Publix Store. We bought the Sunday New York Times and two Venti sized coffees, to enjoy back in our room. We were almost ready for the last six hour dash to Ft. Myers, our winter destination.

Monday November - St. Augustine, Fl.

We were up early at 6:30 A.M. We showered and prepped for the day. We checked out of the Best Western and then stopped by the nearby Starbucks for more of that delicious ambrosia. Rte.#95 South led us to Rte. #4 West, which took us through the Orlando bypass. Everything in the area seems to have a Disney connection. Traffic was heavy. We picked up Rte. #75 South at Tampa and sailed down Florida’s Southwest coast to exit #131, Daniel’s Rd. in Ft. Myers. We had spent four months here last year, so the sights are familiar and welcome to us. We pulled into the Cross Creek Golf complex and soon found 12675 Coldstream Dr, where we would spend the next six months of our lives.

The rest of the day is a blur of food shopping, unpacking and settling in. I sipped from a large vodka martini, on the airy lanai, overlooking the attractive pond on 16th green of the golf course. It erased much of the day’s hectic pace. We were glad to be here and looked forward to our stay.

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Joseph Xavier Martin