When I first saw Valle Crucis in 2015, I was speechless, but it had nothing to do with not knowing how to read the name. As my wife and I and a friend headed down winding Highway 194 from Banner Elk, North Carolina, we saw a field of greenery below us. “This is the most beautiful place in the High Country,'' said our friend.
I read the signs as I passed.
“bail Crucis? ”
“It's called 'valley'. I don't know why it's spelled that way.”
I later learned that the name means “Valley of the Crosses” in Latin, and legend has it that it was created almost 200 years ago by North Carolina bishop Levi Silliman Ives, evoking the Cross of St. Andrew. , named after the three streams that meet. My friends didn't know it at the time, but they were right that Valle Crucis was the most beautiful place in the High Country, so by the time Highway 194 crossed Broadstone Road, I I was completely hooked.
An unincorporated community of fewer than 500 people, Valle Crucis stretches out on a shelf of rolling bottomland fed by the rapids of the Watauga River. It's like a postcard from another era, but what it lacks in population it makes up for in character. Here you'll find the original Mast General Store, the elegant Mast Farm Inn, and Chef Andy Long's stunning Ober Yonder Restaurant. It is also, and this is very important to us, the home of the Valle Crucis Community Park.
My wife and I grew up in the mountains of South Carolina, but have moved around for the past 20 years. We lived in Charleston and Connecticut and were also stationed in Europe and Mexico. We were living in Florida at the time and longed to be closer to family, white pines, and mountains. The way the slopes looked velvety in the hazy distance, we were hungry for it and bought a house in Sugar Grove, two ridges down from Valle His Crucis. As soon as we settled in, we took the kids to the park and instantly fell in love.
This community park consists of 28 acres of playgrounds, trails, and open space along the Watauga River, supported mostly by donations and the generous support of the Friends of the Park. During the summer, kids squeal on swings or float by in inner tubes, and people fly-fish or power-walk by in teal windsuits.
On Wednesday mornings, the High Country Audubon Society will host a bird walk there. Our son was and still is an avid birdwatcher, so we've been taking him since he was 7 years old for what I think of as “birding with seniors.” . I followed him into the pack and jogged along the paved course, each time encountering a group staring at the tree tops, barely making any progress since the last lap. Occasionally, courtesy of a generous older birder, I would see my son with $2,000 binoculars slung around his neck, but running always got my heart racing. He was catching birds while his daughter rode the bike, my hand hovering near the seat. We went almost every day and I didn't think I could love this park any more.
Then I heard about Music in the Valle. My friend and local musician Jimmy Davidson told me that every Friday from late May to early September, the park holds concerts from 6pm until dusk. It's free and no ticket is required. (Donations are welcome but not required.) The music ranges from bluegrass to reggae, and it attracts most people.
We went that first May evening and never stopped, seeing with our own eyes the beauty of spring turning into summer in the mountains. The sky starts out an eggy blue, then the sun softens and turns golden in the late afternoon. In the evening, the light fades and the fireflies begin to wink and tremble. Not in the woolly humidity of much of the South, but in the airiness of the altitude, the lazy certainty of a climate that proves nothing.
This Friday has quickly become my favorite time of the summer. At first, I thought it was because Music in the Valle is what you would call an “activity.” Appalachian State University students in sandals and bathing suits stand barefoot on the green grass at Empire West next to women dressed for a mountain cocktail party. Dogs everywhere. Children everywhere were riding bicycles, wearing helmets, laughing and waving as they passed by. People unfold quilts, wrestle with complicated folding tables, and arrange cheese, prosciutto, and wine in stainless steel water bottles. I like to bring a small cooler and visit the food trucks near the stage while the music is playing. Things like Cardinal's double burger and Doggin' It's hot dogs.
Nevertheless, it took me a while to realize that there is a deeper reason why I love Valle Crucis. My wife and I measured our lives that Friday in that park. His 7-year-old son, who kept nervously watching me while I was glassing bluebirds, is now leading the birding walks himself. The girl who needed me to support her on the back of her bike pedaled away long ago.
One night not long ago in September, I was sitting next to a friend as V, the Canada goose, hooted overhead and flew south. It was the last concert of the season, so he gave me a nudge.
“Our summer is over,” he said.
I looked for my children to point it out to me. When I noticed that they were out with friends, it hit me that it wasn't just summer that was passing by. But God, how lucky I am to be able to sit in such a beautiful place and spend time on a blanket in the cool darkness of the evening, surrounded by my loved ones.