by Sue Hibbetts

Created on: October 26, 2007

Driving the Magical Blue Ridge Parkway

The first time I drove into Asheville, North Carolina, I was filled with wonder, for there, stretched out before me, was the beautiful, magical Blue Ridge Mountains. I was lucky enough to have started my journey to my new home during the month of November; when the trees still had their fall colors. Everywhere I looked; my eyes were met with brilliant colors of orange, red, yellow and brown. At times, the colors were so intense they almost looked as though they had been painted by a master artist, for how could nature have created such vivid colors?

As I drove through the mountains, mist laid gently over the hills and valleys, giving the landscape an ethereal quality; something not of this world, but of the spiritual hereafter. As a believer in the existence of faeries, those magical, little winged creatures of folklore; I was convinced the wee people were playing in the mist, sprinkling the leaves of the trees with magical faery dust.

I grew up in a family of nomads, traveling from place-to-place; my father always seeking his elusive dream. By the time I was 18 years old, I had lived in Ohio, Michigan, Kentucky, California, and had driven through 32 different states. Although all the moving created havoc in my emotional life, in other ways, I was privileged to have seen much of the beauty that the United States has to offer.

After living in several mid-western states, my family finally settled down in Los Angles and we spent the rest of my childhood exploring the deserts and mountains of California. In those years I thought there was no other place in the USA that could rival the grandeur of the jagged and intense Rocky Mountains.

Even though I had, long ago, left my beloved California behind, and journeyed to other states to live, I still kept the opinion that the Rockies beauty was unrivaled and no other place could compare in its sheer wonder. But the first time I drove into Asheville, I had to let go of my previous opinions, as I marveled at the majestic Blue Ridge Mountains. For the first time since leaving my childhood home, I had found a place that not only rivaled the majesty of the Rockies, but maybe even surpassed those young mountains in utter splendor.

Now living in Asheville, I'm lucky enough to live within five miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Parkway is mostly a two lane road that meanders through the Appalachian Mountain range; one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world. The Parkway covers 469 miles

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