EXPLORE NORTH CAROLINA

T R AV E L I N G

EAST

“The spirit of resistance to governmen that I wish it to be

Thomas Jefferson, letter to Ab

nt is so valuable on certain occasions, always kept alive.”

bigail Adams, February 22, 1787

Tryon Palace

Tryon Palace makes North Carolina come alive. The colorful people, the action, the beauty, and the lifestyle lived in the mid 1700's are all captured in New Bern.

The following article barely touches the surface of the funTryon has to offer.

From re-enacted duels to gardening, cooking, and dressmaking, there is something for everyone.

I hope this will becon you to explore.

TP

History is filled with scoundrels, intrigue, betrayals, and passion. NC history is no exception. Our state is full of rich stories, ripe for novelists like Diana Gabaldon. This slice of North Carolina history comes to life where the Trent and the Neuse rivers converge. By 1700, the Tuscarora Indians had lived on this fertile land for hundreds of years. Their village was named Chattoka, which in the Tuscaroran language means, "where the fish are taken out."

It was a comfortable site replete with wildlife, food was in abundance, and the climate was mild. John Lawson, an Englishman, was assured by a friend in London that "Carolina was the best country." Taking his friend's advice, Lawson sailed for Charleston and arrived on August 15, 1700. From Charleston, Lawson joined an expedition into the interior of the Carolina Colony. Much of the way, their group was guided by American Indians. They travelled

nearly 600 miles into the wilderness. Lawson took careful notes about the vegetation, the wildlife, and the many Indian tribes he encountered. After his exploration, Lawson settled near the Pamlico River, where he became a very successful land surveyor. Lawson was still enamored with his travels into the wilderness. A New Voyage to Carolina was a book written by Lawson in which he shared his vision with the world. In 1709 he returned to London to oversee the publication of his book. Lawson's book was an instant success, and translations were published in German and French. The resulting publicity attracted many settlers to the colony of North Carolina.

Among those attracted were the Ritter Company, which purchased 19,000 acres of land on the Neuse and Trent rivers. Christoph von Graffenried from Bern, Switzerland organized a colony of Swiss and Palatine immigrants to settle on the purchased land. Among the passengers on their ship across the Atlantic was John Lawson, who promised to show the settlers the way to their new home. While at sea the band of colonists were attacked by French pirates, who stole many of the colonist's needed supplies. The settlers arrived in 1710 and named their new colony New Bern in honor of von Graffenried's home city.

Needless to say, the Tuscarora Indians were not pleased by the influx of Europeans to their native land. In 1711 John Lawson and Christoph von Graffenried travelled north on the Neuse River and were captured by the Tuscarora Indians. Lawson was subjected to ritual tribal torture and killed. Von Graffenried was released. This sparked the bloody Tuscarora War that lasted until 1715. Colonel John Barwell of South Carolina led a small army of soldiers and friendly Indians to assist the new colony. The devastation from multiple Indian attacks forced von Graffenried into financial disaster, and he was forced to sell most of his land.

Settlers started to move back into town.

New Bern was located between other coastal regions and became a meeting place for the colonial assembly in 1737. In 1754 the colonial governor Edward Dobbs established his residence in New Bern. He did not stay, choosing to move back closer to shore in Brunswick Town.

Christoph von Graffenried

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In 1751 William Tryon entered the militia as a lieutenant, and was promoted to captain later that year. As was customary in the times, money, not merit, bought and brought rank. Tryon had a daughter by Mary Stanton, of whom little is known. He did not marry Mary but instead married Margaret Wake. Margaret was an heiress with an impressive dowry of $30,000 pounds. After his marriage, Tryon was promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel in the British Army. Moving forward through family connections, he became the lieutenant governor of North Carolina. Tryon arrived in North Carolina in 1764 with his wife, his daughter, and his architect John Hawks. He also brought with him grand expectations.

Margaret Wake (Tryon's wife) was a remarkable woman; she avoided the company of women and studied military strategy and religion. She insisted on being addressed as "Your Excellency," just like her husband. It was Margaret Wake who inspired the name of Wake County.

Soon after the Tryon's arrival, Arthur Dobbs, the current governor of North Carolina, died, and William Tryon was appointed by King George III to be the royal governor.

William Tryon moved the colonial residence and government back to New Bern, which was then the largest city in North Carolina and a center of trade and wealth.

The government allocated 5,000 pounds for the construction of the governor's residence and governmental offices within the grounds. But the allocated amount was not sufficient to meet Tryon's lofty expectations.

TP When William Tryon became the royal governor, there was strong opposition in North Carolina to the Stamp Act of 1765. When the Stamp Act Congress was held, Tryon absolved the North Carolina Colonial Assembly. His actions prevented North Carolina delegates from attending.

In addition, Governor Tryon refused to allow meetings of the NC Assembly from May 1765 until November 1766 to prevent them from passing a resolution in opposition to the Stamp Act. Governor Tryon stated publicly that he was opposed to the Stamp Act and offered to personally pay the taxes on all stamped paper.

Then Tryon changed his tactics and requested English troops to enforce the act. Fortunately, the Stamp Act was repealed before any military action was taken.

Meanwhile, John Hawks was designing a royal governmental residence and seat suitable to Governor Tryon and his specifications. Tryon wanted the structure to be opulent and grand, to reflect not only his position, but also the rise of North Carolina's recognition in the colonial sphere.

The cost of construction rose from 5,000 pounds to 10,000 pounds. To meet the shortage, new taxes were levied. The unpopularity of those taxes is said

to have spawned the name "Tryon's Palace." To be fair, other royal governor's residences were also called the "Governor's Palace," but they didn't include the governor's name. Artisans for construction were brought in from Boston and Philadelphia. Governor Tryon did not believe that North Carolina craftsmen would know how to execute a building of this substance, intricacy, and scale. For its time, Tryon Palace was the epitome of opulence and elegance. It was

designed to give respect to the colony and to the And then came the egulators. royal governor.

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In the mid-1700s, residents of North Carolina’s inland “backcountry” came to believe that royal officials were exploiting them—charging unfair fees, falsifying records, and enriching themselves at the expense of ordinary farmers. In response, a grassroots reform movement emerged. Its members called themselves the Regulators, reflecting their desire to regulate their own local affairs. Among their chief grievances was taxation: poorer, lessproductive western land was taxed at the same per-acre rate as the far richer coastal farmland. The movement’s leader, Herman Husband, was a Quaker who opposed violence, and most Regulators remained loyal to the British Crown. Their demands were not revolutionary—they wanted to keep their land, provide for their families, and survive.

Tensions escalated around Edmund Fanning, a powerful Orange County official widely viewed as corrupt. In 1770, public anger boiled over when a mob seized Fanning, dragged him down the stairs of his home by his heels, and battered his head on each step. Another official saw his possessions hurled from his windows. Outraged, Governor Tryon convened a special court in Hillsborough. Fearing retaliation, the judges requested protection, and Tryon responded by sending more than 1,100 armed troops. The Regulators countered by gathering some 3,700 volunteers,determined, but not trained militia. The volunteers surrendered quickly to the British, asking only for a chance to meet with government officials to explain the abuses they had suffered, account for recent events, and seek fair treatment. The Regulators petitioned for compensation for their losses and permission to return home. Their appeals were dismissed without consideration.

Conditions in the backcountry continued to deteriorate.

Most Regulators were farmers, and a period of dry weather led to failed crops, leaving families struggling to survive.

When taxes went unpaid, lawyers appointed by the governor seized Regulator lands and transferred them to friends of the Crown. Resentment deepened, tensions mounted, and Governor Tryon came to expect open retaliation.

In 1771, a second military expedition was launched. About 1,000 British soldiers and officers marched to confront the Regulators, meeting nearly twice their number at Alamance. After roughly two hours of fighting, the exhausted Regulators,out of ammunition and untrained for sustained combat, were defeated.

Tryon ordered the execution of seven Regulators, charging them under the Riot Act, a law temporarily elevated to a capital offense to serve as a stark warning to others. He then raised taxes once again to cover the cost of the militia’s campaign against the backcountry farmers. Not long after the Regulator uprising was crushed, William Tryon was rewarded with appointment as royal governor of New York.

As a striking historical aside, Tryon later conspired with New York City mayor David Mathews to kidnap George Washington and assassinate his senior officers.

The plot unraveled because of an unexpected flaw. One of Washington’s own bodyguards, Thomas Hickey, boasted about the plan to a fellow prisoner while jailed for counterfeiting. His loose tongue exposed the conspiracy and likely saved Washington’s life. During the Revolutionary War, Tryon was promoted to major general in the British army and pushed for attacks on civilian targets, believing terror would weaken resistance.

General Clinton rejected these ideas and was outraged when Tryon defied orders, leading to condemnation for making war on “women and children.”

Tryon’s actions were widely viewed as brutally extreme, deepening resentment and hardening attitudes on both sides of the conflict.

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Tryon Palace stands as an exquisite example of Georgian architecture, defined by balance and symmetry in every detail. In its time, it was praised as “a monument of opulence and elegance extraordinary in the American Colonies.” The palace showcases the finest construction techniques, materials, and architectural design of the era.

Even a first glance at the brickwork reveals its craftsmanship. The main buildings and surrounding garden walls were constructed in the intricate Flemish bond pattern, a hallmark of skilled masonry and refined design.

This style follows a precise pattern in which a brick laid vertically, known as a header, alternates with a brick laid horizontally, called a stretcher. The process is more time-consuming, but the result is both visually refined and structurally strong. Exterior walls of the period were typically fourteen inches thick, and the walls of Tryon Palace were even more substantial. Additional details include brick jack arches above the windows, a soldier course separating the first and second floors, and rowlock brickwork used on curved features such as the sentry stations at the front.

All of the bricks were hand-molded and cured locally, adding to the craftsmanship and durability of the structure.

Governmental Assemblies would have met in this lavishly appointed room. It is where Richard Caswell, the first governor of North Carolina was sworn into office.

The portraits of King George III and Queen Charlotte are displayed.

They were the English monarchs when the palace was built.

Tryon staged a grand gala to celebrate the official opening of the palace on December 5, 1770. Finally, after moving from site to site, the North Carolina Colonys' seat of government was established in an impressive setting.

In 1771 Governor Tryon and his wife, Margaret Wake Tryon, moved to New York. Margaret Wake was said to continue inserting herself in the politics of the day.

Josiah Martin was the second royal governor to reside in the mansion and is credited with acquiring many exquisite furnishings for the palace. Most of these items were later sold at auction to raise funds for the colonial government. As the Revolutionary War intensified, Martin sent his wife and children by ship to his uncle’s estate, Rockhall, on Long Island, for safety. On May 29, 1775, Martin and his associate Archibald Neilson left in the governor’s coach, traveling through open countryside to Cross Creek before sailing down the Cape Fear River to Fort Johnston near Wilmington. From there, they safely boarded a ship bound for New York.

After Martin’s departure, Tryon Palace fell into neglect. Nearly two years later, in 1777, Richard Caswell was sworn in as governor and began efforts to restore the buildings and grounds of the state’s first capitol. Those plans were threatened in 1780, when General Cornwallis’s troops moved toward North Carolina.

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Eight tons of lead taken from the palace were removed and melted down to make musket balls. In a time of war, securing the freedom of the colonies mattered far more than preserving a building so closely tied to the authority and actions of the Crown.

Photos here show the carved, cantilevered staircase. Cantilevered stairs have independent steps that are anchored to a bearing wall with the help of pins or bolts. The purpose is to give the impression of floating stairs.

Each step supports the weight of the stair above.

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rooms The stables are the only original buildings in existence today. On the evening of February 27, 1798, a torch accidentally ignited dry hay. No one knows exactly how it happened, but the central wing of Tryon Palace burst in flames. Only the stables survived. They are a living legacy to the past. Note that the interior brick walls were constructed in an English bond pattern (a row of headers and a row of stretchers), while the outside walls were Flemish bond. This tells that the exterior walls were probably twenty-four inches deep. It is impressive that when a hurricane struck New Bern in September 1769, two-thirds of the buildings in the city and nearby were destroyed, but the palace, not complete but well under roof, survived the storm.

For a building, a person, or an idea to survive, it needs need sustenance. And much of that sustenance depends on food. Here you see a working kitchen, a scullery kitchen, and a kitchen garden. Each is mesmerizing. The dovecote pictured on the cover of this magazine was built because Governor Tryon's favorite meat was dove.

It is hard to step back and see these as pleasures only the wealthy would enjoy. But even the palace servants had a more secure life than many of their contemporaries.

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Rooms for relaxation and refreshing were found upstairs. An oculus (or what we would call a skylight today) lights the staircase and illuminates its detailed moldings and embellishments. The ceiling height on the first floor is fifteen feet and the ceilings are twelve feet high on the upper level. By visually comparing the distance from the top of the door to the ceiling in the first floor drawing room (pictured at the top right) to that of the second floor master bedroom (pictured above), you can see the disparity in the height from public to private areas. Bedrooms were large enough for owners and guests to have their breakfast and supper in their rooms, as was typical of the time. Dinner was served midday in the dining room.

Above is the master bedroom as it would have been in Governor Tryon's day. Wide-plank heart pine floors are found throughout. They are from the North Carolina long leaf pine.

Above right is the ladies drawing room located on the main floor.

Below right is the ladies dressing room.

In the 1930s a movement began to restore North Carolina's first capitol. Volunteers located two of John Hawks's original architectural drawings, one in New York and the other in London. Maude Latham grew up playing on the palace grounds and created a foundation to restore Tryon Palace. She established a living trust giving the restoration project $250,000, Maude Latham provided an additional $125,000 for furnishings and bequeathed an additional $1.25 million for the restoration.

Thanks to her efforts, Tryon Palace opened to the public in its original splendor in April 1959. The restoration of the buildings is accurate in every detail, and the furnishings are English and similar to those in the detailed inventories of the royal governors.

Pictured here are the formal parterres of the Latham Garden. Statues of the four seasons survey the seasonal displays of spring bulbs, summer annuals, and fall chrysanthemums.

There are more than sixteen acres of gardens surrounding Tryon Palace today.

To the left is a pleached allee.

Pleaching is a term for intertwining branches to form a hedge. Here, yaupon holly, ilex vomitoria, has been pleached across the top of the walkway to create a shady path and a vista of the Trent River.

The kitchen garden offers a variety of produce almost year round.

Depending on the season, you will find a wide variety of heirloom vegetables, herbs, and fruits.

The picture on page two of this magazine shows the edible hibiscus, and vegetables on the counter in the kitchen (pictured on page 67) were grown here on the grounds.

In addition to those photographed here there is another parterre garden, a wildlife garden that features plants native to North Carolina when the first explorers arrived, a Victorian garden that features exotic plants, a walled garden, and many more.

The Pepsi Family Center is a virtual time machine that carries visitors back to a river village in North Carolina’s central coastal region in the year 1835. Hands-on interactive activities create an opportunity to step back in time and sail a ship, distill turpentine and produce other naval stores, piece an electronic quilt, and help the shopkeeper find merchandise for customers in the dry goods store.

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New Bern was an important coastal river port into the 19th century. Visit the wharf and join the crew of the Snapdragon as she sets sail on a trade voyage. Every crew member has a unique role, and crew members must work together to help the ship reach its destination safely.

In 1835, the naval stores industry was also a large part of the local economy. Turpentine comes from the pinesap that was plentiful in North Carolina’s extensive pine forests. It was one of the region’s most important products because it was used in the production and waterproofing of wooden ships.

At the Turpentine Still in the Family Center Forest, each person has a special job to do, with the goal of producing high-quality turpentine.

And the forest isn’t the only place where work needs to be done. At home in the kitchen, visitors help the cook find ingredients for her recipes, then they watch as food is prepared as it was in 1835. Join a quilting bee in the parlor, and design patterns from squares that will be pieced together to create a beautiful quilt.

Finally, step onto Main Street and help two local merchants who are looking for some extra hands. In the Dry Goods Store, help the shopkeeper as he finds items to fill his customers’ shopping lists. Over in the Print Shop, the printer’s devil is looking for someone to help him finish writing the town newspaper. Then rest on a nearby feather bed.

Come ready to have fun!

“Lighthouses are endlessly sugg

Isolation and our ultimate con

Virginia

gestive signifiers of both human

nnectedness to one another.”

a Woolf

Lighthouses of North Carolina: Beacons of Hope & Bravery History & Endless Adventure North Carolina’s seven lighthouses have stood as guardians of the coast for generations, guiding sailors safely through some of the most treacherous waters on Earth. But these iconic beacons are more than towers of brick and steel — they’re storytellers.

Each lighthouse has witnessed epic storms, tragic shipwrecks, heroic rescues, and the occasional ghostly encounter.

And thanks to the vision of one Founding Father (hint: Thomas Jefferson), these lighthouses were part of a nationwide plan to keep America’s maritime economy afloat.

So, grab your sense of adventure, a love for history, and maybe a flashlight in case you run into a ghost, because we’re about to dive into the incredible stories behind the seven lighthouses of North Carolina.

Rising like a steadfast sentinel from the sands of the Outer Banks, the Currituck Beach Lighthouse has guarded North Carolina’s treacherous waters since 1875. More than a navigational aid, it is a living time capsule, bearing witness to maritime danger, human resolve, and even lingering whispers of legend. Unlike its boldly painted counterparts, Currituck wears its natural brick exterior with quiet confidence, a rugged tower built from nearly one million bricks, standing as if to declare, “I am the guardian of this coast.”

Its purpose was born of necessity. Mariners, vulnerable to sudden storms and deceptive shoals, desperately needed a reliable guide. The lighthouse answered that call by illuminating a deadly forty-mile “dark stretch” of coastline. With its powerful first-order Fresnel lens, the tower cast light far into the Atlantic. At 162 feet tall, its beam cut through darkness, offering reassurance and survival to sailors navigating perilous seas.

Yet the story extends far beyond the glow of its lantern. Life at the lighthouse was anything but romantic. Keepers and their families lived in near isolation, enduring storms that shook the brick walls and hurricanes that flooded the surrounding land. Picture the climb up 214 iron steps, repeated day after day, lantern oil sloshing as keepers cleaned the lens and ensured the light never failed. Through blistering heat, icy gales, and relentless winds, these unsung guardians protected lives they would never meet.

Like all enduring stories, this one carries a turning point. By the mid-1900s, automation made lighthouse keepers obsolete. Neglected and weather-worn, Currituck slipped into decline, standing silent and forgotten, a shadow of its former purpose. That silence lasted until the 1980s, when dedicated preservationists intervened. Thanks to the nonprofit Outer Banks Conservationists, the lighthouse was restored, and its light once again shone as it had for generations.

Today, climbing the spiral staircase feels like stepping into history. From the top, sweeping views of the Atlantic Ocean and Currituck Sound unfold, but it is the deeper legacy of storms endured, lives saved, and secrets whispered on the wind that truly animates the Currituck Beach Lighthouse. It is not merely a structure. It is a storyteller, and its voice is as enduring as the waves below.

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Yet, the Currituck Lighthouse has one more layer of mystery. Locals whisper of ghostly keepers who never left. Some claim to hear footsteps on the iron stairs at night, or catch glimpses of shadowy figures near the lens. Are they echoes of the past? Or is the lighthouse, so steeped in history, simply refusing to be forgotten?

Perhaps the most chilling accounts come from the lighthouse’s restoration period in the 1980s. Workers claimed to hear voices murmuring in empty rooms and tools mysteriously moving from one spot to another. One worker even swore he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, only to turn and find no one there.

Skeptics might dismiss these tales as tricks of the mind, spurred by the lighthouse’s isolation and history. But for those who have experienced the unexplainable, the Currituck Beach Lighthouse is more than just a historical landmark—it’s a place where the past and present intertwine, where echoes of lives long gone linger in the salt-tinged air.

Whether you believe in ghosts or not, the lighthouse’s haunting beauty and spectral stories make it a place that stirs the imagination. After all, it has stood watch over a perilous stretch of sea for nearly 150 years—perhaps it’s only fitting that some of its most loyal keepers have chosen to stay forever.

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Perched on the windswept shores of North Carolina’s Outer Banks, the Bodie Island Lighthouse is more than a guiding light for mariners—it’s a symbol of survival, reinvention, and eerie legend.

Rising 156 feet into the sky, its bold black-and-white stripes are an iconic sight along the Atlantic shores where shipwrecks and storms have claimed countless lives.

But the path to its lasting brilliance wasn’t easy. The first Bodie Island Lighthouse, built in 1847, was a disaster. Poor construction on unstable ground caused the tower to lean, making it unusable within a few short years. A second lighthouse, completed in 1859, seemed to solve the problem— until the Civil War intervened. In 1861, Confederate soldiers destroyed it to prevent Union forces from using it as a strategic outpost. Finally, in 1872, the third and current lighthouse was completed, this time built to last, with a powerful first-order Fresnel lens that still beams light 19 nautical miles out to sea.

The name “Bodie” (pronounced "Body") itself carries an ominous edge. Local legend claims it refers to the many bodies washed ashore from shipwrecks in the area, though historians suggest it may have originated from a family name. Whatever its roots, the name adds a haunting layer to the lighthouse’s mystique.

Ghostly tales linger around the lighthouse like a salty sea mist.

While Blackbeard’s infamous name looms large over the Outer Banks, his connection to Bodie Island is more folklore than fact. That said, tales of ghostly ships and strange lights on the horizon have fueled speculation that the pirate’s spirit still lingers in the region. Some locals swear they’ve seen phantom sails on foggy nights, drifting across the waters near the lighthouse—a nod to the pirate-infused history of the Outer Banks.

For all its ghostly intrigue, the Bodie Island Lighthouse remains a triumph of human ingenuity and perseverance. Fully restored in 2013, it now welcomes visitors who climb its steps to experience breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean and surrounding marshes. Standing at the top, with the wind in your hair and the endless horizon stretching before you, it’s easy to imagine the countless lives this light has touched—both those it saved and those it couldn’t.

The Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, towering at 198 feet, is the tallest brick lighthouse in North America.

Perched on the windswept shores of Hatteras Island in North Carolina’s Outer Banks, it has guided mariners through the Graveyard of the Atlantic for over two centuries. Its storied history is filled with engineering feats, heroic rescues, and the steadfast dedication of its keepers.

The waters off Cape Hatteras are among the most treacherous in the world, earning the ominous nickname "The Graveyard of the Atlantic." Stretching along the Outer Banks of North Carolina, this region has claimed thousands of ships and countless lives over the centuries. The combination of shifting underwater sandbars, violent storms, and a meeting of powerful ocean currents creates a perfect storm of danger for mariners, making this stretch of coastline infamous for shipwrecks.

Several natural factors contribute to the lethal reputation of the Graveyard of the Atlantic: Diamond Shoals: Extending up to 14 miles offshore from Cape Hatteras, the Diamond Shoals are a series of constantly shifting sandbars. These shoals are underwater deathtraps that can rip the hulls of ships apart or strand vessels, leaving them vulnerable to high winds and waves. Because the shoals change with tides and storms, they were nearly impossible to chart accurately for much of history.

Colliding Currents: Cape Hatteras is where the warm waters of the Gulf Stream collide with the cold waters of the Labrador Current. This confluence creates unpredictable seas, strong rip currents, and a phenomenon known as "rogue waves"—massive, sudden waves capable of capsizing ships.

Hurricanes and Nor’easters: The Outer Banks lie directly in the path of many Atlantic hurricanes and winter storms known as nor’easters. These powerful systems bring high winds, massive waves, and near-zero visibility, often catching ships off guard and driving them onto the shoals or into each other.

Historians estimate that over 5,000 shipwrecks lie scattered along the Graveyard of the Atlantic, making it one of the largest collections of shipwrecks in the world. These wrecks range from wooden sailing ships of the colonial era to Civil War ironclads, World War II submarines, and modern steel-hulled freighters.

The USS Monitor: The famous Union ironclad from the Civil War sank off Cape Hatteras in 1862 during a violent storm. Its wreck was discovered in 1973 and is now a protected marine sanctuary.

The Carroll A. Deering: This mysterious five-masted schooner ran aground near Hatteras in 1921, with its crew completely missing. Its disappearance is one of the most enduring maritime mysteries in U.S. history, with theories ranging from piracy to paranormal activity.

World War II Shipwrecks: During World War II, German U-boats prowled the waters off the Outer Banks, sinking hundreds of Allied ships in what became known as the "Battle of the Atlantic." Cape Hatteras became a front line in the war, with oil tankers, cargo ships, and military vessels falling prey to U-boat attacks. The U-701, a German U-boat sunk by U.S. aircraft in 1942, remains one of the many wartime wrecks in the area.

While the Graveyard of the Atlantic is infamous for its shipwrecks, it is also a place of incredible heroism.

The U.S. Lifesaving Service (the precursor to the Coast Guard) stationed crews along the Outer Banks to respond to emergencies. These lifesavers, often working in brutal conditions, became renowned for their courage.

One of the most dramatic rescues occurred during the wreck of the SS Mirlo in 1918. After the ship was torpedoed by a German U-boat, lifesavers braved flaming seas to pull survivors from the water. Their heroic efforts earned them the Gold Lifesaving Medal.

However, not all ships were so lucky. Many wrecks ended in tragedy, with entire crews lost to the sea. Survivors of these wrecks sometimes washed ashore on the Outer Banks, telling harrowing tales of storms, collisions, and desperate struggles against the ocean.

Today, the Graveyard of the Atlantic serves as both a historical treasure trove and a popular destination for divers and researchers. The shifting sands have preserved many of the shipwrecks, making them accessible for underwater exploration. The area is also home to the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum in Hatteras, which showcases artifacts from shipwrecks, maritime history, and exhibits about the daring rescues performed by the U.S. Lifesaving Service.

For all its danger and mystery, the Graveyard of the Atlantic is a testament to the power of nature and the resilience of those who dared to face it.

Whether through shipwrecks, ghostly legends, or heroic tales of survival, it continues to captivate and awe all who learn about it.

Nestled on the tranquil shores of Ocracoke Island in North Carolina, the Ocracoke Lighthouse was built in 1823, it is the second-oldest operating lighthouse in the United States and the oldest in North Carolina. Its unassuming whitewashed brick tower, only 75 feet tall, may lack the dramatic height of others like Cape Hatteras, but it has a charm all its own.

Beyond its humble design, the lighthouse is steeped in history, maritime lore, and one of the Outer Banks' most intriguing legends: the story of Theodosia Burr Alston.

The Ocracoke Lighthouse was constructed to address the treacherous shoals and sandbars of Ocracoke Inlet, a critical passage for ships traveling to and from the busy ports of North Carolina in the early 19th century. The inlet was a key trade route, but shifting sands and shallow waters posed constant dangers to mariners. Completed in 1823, the lighthouse was constructed using bricks made from shell lime, and its walls are an impressive five feet thick at the base.

Its light, originally powered by whale oil lamps, was visible up to 14 miles out to sea. Today, the Ocracoke Lighthouse is fully automated, and though it is not open for climbing, visitors flock to admire its serene beauty.

No story tied to the Ocracoke Lighthouse is more haunting than that of Theodosia Burr Alston, the daughter of Aaron Burr, the infamous U.S. Vice President who dueled Alexander Hamilton. Her life, like her father’s, was marked by scandal and tragedy, and her mysterious disappearance in 1813 remains one of the great unsolved mysteries of American history.

Theodosia was a brilliant and accomplished woman, known for her intelligence and charm. She married Joseph Alston, who became the governor of South Carolina, and the couple had a son. However, her life took a dark turn when her son died of malaria in 1812, leaving Theodosia grief-stricken. Shortly after, her father, Aaron Burr, was exiled from the United States following his trial for treason. Seeking solace, Theodosia planned a voyage to New York to reunite with him.

On December 31, 1812, Theodosia boarded the schooner Patriot in Charleston, South Carolina, bound for New York.

The ship never arrived, and Theodosia was never seen again. Theories about her fate range from piracy to shipwreck, with many believing the Patriot fell victim to the treacherous waters of the Graveyard of the Atlantic near Ocracoke.

Legend has it that Theodosia’s spirit lingers near Ocracoke Island, searching for answers—or perhaps peace. One popular tale recounts the discovery of an elegant portrait of a woman in fine clothing found in a fisherman’s shack on Ocracoke Island in the mid-19th century. The portrait, believed by some to be of Theodosia, was said to have been recovered from a shipwreck near the island.

According to the story, the fisherman claimed the portrait washed ashore after a violent storm. When the portrait was shown to those who had known Theodosia, they reportedly identified it as her likeness. The painting eventually disappeared, leaving behind only the ghostly whispers of its existence.

Visitors to Ocracoke Island have also reported sightings of a woman in a flowing gown, believed to be Theodosia, wandering the beaches near the lighthouse on moonlit nights. Some say she calls out for her father or her lost child, her voice carried by the wind over the waves. The lighthouse, standing steadfast on the island, serves as a silent witness to these tales, its light a constant amidst the shifting sands of history and legend.

While Theodosia’s ghost remains a source of intrigue, the Ocracoke Lighthouse endures as a beloved landmark. It stands as a reminder of the island’s maritime heritage and the lives shaped by the sea. Visitors to the lighthouse often marvel at its simplicity and timeless beauty, capturing photos beneath its towering presence and imagining the countless ships it has guided safely to shore.

The Cape Lookout Lighthouse, located on the remote Core Banks of North Carolina’s Crystal Coast, has stood tall since 1859. This elegant black-and-white diamond-patterned tower, 163 feet high, is one of the few lighthouses in the United States with a unique daymark pattern—making it easily identifiable by mariners even during daylight hours. Beyond its role as a navigational aid, Cape Lookout is steeped in fascinating history, from the stories of its heroic keepers, like William Gaskill, to the enduring legend of the wild horses that roam its shores. Together, these tales weave a vivid tapestry of life, resilience, and natural beauty on the Core Banks. The lighthouse’s position marks the location of the unpredictable Lookout Shoals that extend over 12 miles into the sea. The original Cape Lookout Lighthouse, built in 1812, was deemed inadequate due to its short height and limited visibility. Its successor, the current lighthouse, was completed in 1859 with a first-order Fresnel lens capable of casting light nearly 20 miles out to sea. With this new beacon, the number of shipwrecks in the area began to decrease, though the lighthouse keepers remained ever vigilant.

One of the most celebrated keepers of the Cape Lookout Lighthouse was William Gaskill, whose unwavering dedication to his duty became legendary. Serving as keeper in the late 19th century, Gaskill’s life revolved around maintaining the light, even during the most challenging conditions. Cape Lookout's remote location made the keeper’s job incredibly demanding. Supplies were scarce, storms were frequent, and isolation was a constant companion. But Gaskill faced these challenges with remarkable resolve. He would climb the 216 steps to the top of the lighthouse multiple times a day, ensuring the light remained bright and the lens clean.

Gaskill is remembered for his role during a deadly hurricane in the 1890s. As the storm battered the Core Banks, Gaskill stayed at his post, keeping the light burning while waves pounded the shore and fierce winds rattled the lighthouse. His efforts saved the lives of countless sailors navigating the treacherous waters during the storm. His bravery epitomized the lighthouse keeper's motto: "You have to go out, but you don’t have to come back."

Just a short boat ride from Cape Lookout lies Shackleford Banks, home to one of the most fascinating features of the Cape Lookout area: the wild horses. These feral horses, known as the “Banker ponies,” have roamed the islands for centuries.

Their origins are shrouded in mystery, but the most popular theory is that they are descendants of Spanish mustangs that survived shipwrecks off the coast during the 16th century. Some legends even tie their arrival to the explorations of Sir Walter Raleigh.

The horses have adapted remarkably to the harsh environment of the islands. They graze on sea oats, salt meadow cordgrass, and other vegetation, and they even drink fresh water from shallow pools formed by rain. Despite the challenges of their habitat, the herd thrives and has become a symbol of the untamed beauty of Cape Lookout.

Keeper William Gaskill, who was known for his deep connection to the natural world, reportedly admired the horses and marveled at their resilience. He would watch them from the lighthouse tower as they wandered the sandy dunes and salt marshes. Local lore even claims that Gaskill once helped free a horse that had become stuck in the thick mud of the marshlands during a storm, further cementing his reputation as a caretaker of both people and the environment.

1.

87

The Cape Lookout Lighthouse and its surroundings offer a glimpse into a world where human determination and the forces of nature collide. From the heroic efforts of Keeper William Gaskill during raging storms to the untamed spirit of the wild horses that gallop across the sands, the lighthouse is a beacon not only of safety but of the enduring connection between people and their environment.

For those who visit Cape Lookout, it’s impossible not to feel a sense of awe.

Whether gazing up at the towering lighthouse, watching the wild horses roam freely, or imagining the solitary figure of William Gaskill tending the light, this corner of the Outer Banks holds stories that continue to inspire and captivate all who experience its magic..

1.

The Oak Island Lighthouse, standing tall on the coast of North Carolina, has always been a marvel of engineering and history. Built in 1958, its striking design and functionality have made it a beloved landmark for locals and visitors alike. However, in recent years, the lighthouse has been at the center of an unexpected twist—a collaboration with NASA and a project involving towering ladders that could revolutionize how we think about space exploration.

Unlike traditional lighthouses with spiral staircases, the Oak Island Lighthouse features ship-like ladders to access its upper levels. These vertical ladders, reminiscent of those on tall sailing vessels, make the structure distinct. Climbing the 131 steps to the top is not for the faint of heart, but it offers breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean and the surrounding coastline.

The lighthouse's innovative design was intentional—it was built to withstand the harsh conditions of the Cape Fear region while also serving as a symbol of modern engineering. Over the decades, it has guided countless ships safely to shore and stood resilient against hurricanes and storms.

But what makes this lighthouse even more intriguing is its recent partnership with NASA. In 2022, NASA announced a ground-breaking initiative called the "Lunar Ladder Project." The concept involved creating a space elevator—a tethered structure that could transport materials and astronauts between Earth and the Moon with unprecedented efficiency. While the idea of a space elevator had long been a topic of science fiction, advancements in materials science made the concept more plausible.

NASA identified several locations around the world as potential anchor points for the project. To everyone's surprise, the Oak Island Lighthouse was chosen as one of the sites for testing. Its sturdy foundation, remote location, and iconic ladders made it a prime candidate.

Under the cover of secrecy, engineers and scientists began retrofitting the lighthouse in early 2024.

The iconic ladders were equipped with sensors and testing equipment to simulate the conditions of a space elevator. The lighthouse's light, which had once guided ships, was upgraded with highintensity lasers capable of communicating with orbiting satellites.

Locals were both fascinated and perplexed as the lighthouse took on a new role. Speculation ran wild—was Oak Island about to become the launchpad for humanity's next great leap?

In late 2024, NASA conducted its first test at Oak Island. A specially designed tether was anchored to the lighthouse, extending into the sky. A small robotic climber, resembling a cross between a spacecraft and a drone, ascended the tether, carrying scientific instruments. The test was a success, proving that the lighthouse could serve as a temporary anchor for larger-scale experiments.

a highlighted

This achievement drew international attention, turning the Oak Island Lighthouse into a symbol of innovation. The partnership between NASA and the local community the blending of history and the future, with a lighthouse that had once guided sailors now guiding humanity's quest to explore the stars.

While the Lunar Ladder Project is still in its experimental stages, the Oak Island Lighthouse has already cemented its place in history. It stands as a testament to human ingenuity and adaptability, evolving from a maritime beacon to a cornerstone of space exploration.

For visitors, the lighthouse offers more than just a glimpse into the past—it provides a vision of the future. The ladders, once a functional necessity, now symbolize the literal and metaphorical steps humanity is taking toward the unknown.

As the sun sets over the Atlantic, the Oak Island Lighthouse continues to shine, its beam reaching far beyond the horizon. But for those who know its story, the light also points toward the stars, reminding us that even the most grounded structures can play a role in reaching for the heavens.

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On the serene and secluded Bald Head Island stands one of the state’s most iconic landmarks—Bald Head Lighthouse. Known affectionately as "Old Baldy," it is North Carolina’s oldest standing lighthouse and a treasured symbol of maritime history. With its rich past, unique architecture, and breathtaking surroundings, Bald Head Lighthouse continues to captivate visitors and historians alike.

Built in 1817, Bald Head Lighthouse replaced an earlier wooden lighthouse that had been erected in 1794 but fell into disrepair. Constructed from bricks and covered with stucco, Old Baldy was designed to withstand the test of time and the harsh coastal elements. Its octagonal shape and mottled, weathered surface give it a rustic charm that stands in contrast to the sleek, modern lighthouses of today. Standing at 110 feet tall, the lighthouse was a critical guide for ships navigating the treacherous waters of the Cape Fear River and Frying Pan Shoals. The light's location at the confluence of the river and the Atlantic Ocean made it an essential aid to commerce and trade in the region.

Unlike many lighthouses that have been modernized or rebuilt, Old Baldy retains much of its original character.

Its stuccoed exterior, now aged and cracked, gives the lighthouse a patchwork appearance that tells a story of resilience. The light itself, which once ran on whale oil and later kerosene, was decommissioned in 1935 and replaced by a more modern navigational system. Today, Old Baldy no longer serves as a working lighthouse, but its historical significance and visual appeal make it a beloved landmark. Visitors can climb the 108 wooden steps to the top for panoramic views of Bald Head Island, the Cape Fear River, and the surrounding marshlands.

Bald Head Lighthouse has witnessed nearly every chapter of North Carolina's coastal history. During the Civil War, Bald Head Island was fortified by Confederate troops, who used the lighthouse as a lookout point. Later, in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the island became a haven for wealthy vacationers and a hub for shipping activity.

In the 20th century, the advent of modern navigational aids and changing shipping routes reduced the need for lighthouses like Old Baldy. However, the lighthouse remained a poignant reminder of the region’s maritime heritage and was preserved as a historic site.

The lighthouse keepers were the heart and soul of Old Baldy. These men and their families lived in isolation on Bald Head Island, maintaining the light and ensuring it burned brightly through the darkest nights and fiercest storms.

Their dedication was unwavering, even in the face of loneliness, harsh weather, and the challenges of frontier living.

One of the earliest keepers, Henry Long, served during the 1820s. Long was known for his meticulous care of the lighthouse, ensuring the whale oil lamps were always filled and the lenses polished. His wife, Sarah, often assisted him, and their children grew up playing on the sandy shores and helping with daily chores. During the Civil War, keeper Oren D. Randolph witnessed dramatic changes. Bald Head Island was fortified by Confederate troops, and the lighthouse became a strategic lookout point. Randolph's role shifted from guiding sailors to aiding in wartime efforts. He and his family endured the upheaval, with the light extinguished for years to prevent Union ships from navigating the coast. Later keepers, like Captain Charlie Swan, became local legends. Swan, who served in the early 20th century, was a retired sailor who brought his love of the sea to his role as keeper. He often regaled visitors with tales of shipwrecks and rescues, embodying the spirit of the island's maritime history.

The Bald Head Lighthouse with its weathered exterior and rich history stand as a tribute to the men, women, and children who cared for it over the centuries. Visitors can climb the lighthouse steps, walk the sandy trails once traversed by keepers’ children, and imagine life on the island during a time when the light was a lifeline.

T R AV E L I N G

EAST

“What you do makes a difference

of difference yo

Jane G

e, and you have to decide what kind

ou want to make.”

Goodall

Set on more than 2,600 acres in the heart of the state, the North Carolina Zoo reflects that philosophy in every landscape and habitat. Designed to mirror the world’s great ecosystems, the zoo invites visitors to slow down, observe, and understand the intricate connections between people, wildlife, and place.

Here, conservation is not an abstract ideal but a daily practice, rooted in education, research, and a deep respect for the natural world that North Carolina calls its own.

History How did North Carolina come to have the largest zoo in the world and one of only two state zoos in the United States?

In North Carolina there is always a story to tell. Ours starts with Mary Ester's article in "Visit North Carolina."

Dan K. Moore was elected to be the 66th governor of North Carolina in 1964.

As the story goes, in a family gathering in the Executive Mansion after the innaugration there was a strategy session to decide on a legacy for Governor Moore, something for which he would always be remembered.

Former governors had the motto of being the "good roads governor", or the "education governor", or the "industry governor." Bob Leak suggested establishing a North Carolina State Zoo, and Governor Moore liked the idea.

As always, the big problem that surfaced was money. The cost of a study to determine a good location was $50,000. The Raleigh Jaycees hosted the first NFL exhibition game in North Carolina with proceeds to be donated "to a worthy cause." Carter-Finley Stadium was host to a game between the Washington Redskins and the New York Giants. Over than anticipated profits funded the cost of the zoo location study.

from Mountain to Shore a search for Hobo An initial bond referendum of $2 million was proposed to the voters.

The adorable cub was taken from Wthe mountains of North Carolina to the shore and photographed in iconic locations.

He appeared in 28 programs on 16 television stations which endeared

To promote the zoo referrendum legendary photographer Hugh Morton took a 10 week old bear on a road trip.

Critically Endangered

the cub and his cause to the public.

Bear cub advertising worked.

A contest to name the cub followed, with the winning name being "Hobo." After his celebrity status, Hobo was reintroduced into the wild where he lived for 17 years near Grandfather Mountain.

How fitting for Hobo to live in his natural habitat after helping to establish a zoo dedicated to giving each animal and each endangered species its best life.

Thanks to a determined group of civic-minded North Carolinians the Zoo found a home in the center of the state.

The citizens of Ashboro and Randolph County donated 500 acres (known as the Purgatory Mountain property) to create a venue. The location is 75 miles west of Raleigh, 25 miles south of Greensboro, and 75 miles northeast of Charlotte.

The zoo has now grown to 2600 acres making it the largest zoo in the world. So far 500 acres and two continents are represented. The zoo is home to 1,800 animals and more than 200 species.

A ground breaking ceremony was held in August of this year for a new 10 acre Asia continent exhibit.

It is scheduled to open in 2026 with Australia to follow.

What does it mean when a zoo is called

"ALIVE"?

"Alive" zoos are arranged in "zoo georgraphic clusters".

The enclosed territories feature topography and plants that replicate the natural environment where an animal would survive in the wild.

Barriers are as invisible as possible so that visitors can feel that they are inside the animals' habitat. The created habitat is designed to comfort the animals and to transport visitors to a magical realm few will ever see.

An "Alive" zoo cares as much for the animal's welfare as for the visitor's pleasure. It means that animals who want to seclude from people or each other have a native landscape with the appropriate caves, trees, shrubs, land, and rocks to create nooks and cranies for privacy.

Keepers hide food so that the animals can search for it as they would in the wild.

It keeps the animals mentally stimulated and physically active. Feeding times are posted so that everyone can enjoy the hunt.

There is an honest concern for ecological integrity.

Ronan is a new resident, he is a 9 year old 740 pound grizzly bear. Ronan came to the zoo from Reid Park Zoo in Arizona. As all animals, he spent the first 30 days in quarantine before being released into his habitat.

Ronan's favorite spot is in the den area is behind the waterfall. His favorite foods include trout, herring, meat, pears, beear chow, and HONEY!

Welcome to North Carolina, Ronan!

56

entering

Africa Enrichment is a tool that handlers use with all of the animals every day.

It refers to providing a novelty.

The presentation may range from introducing new toys, to new hiding places for food, or to a change in habitat.

Enrichment prevents boredom

There are 4 giraffes at the North Carolina Zoo. They cohabitate with the zebra's and the ostraches. In the wild giraffe's congregate in groups. There is a fishsion-fusion social structure, which means that individual animals vary who they might want to hang out with from day to day.

Because giraffes are natural grazers,

and adds the thrill of exploration. For giraffes it may be a paradax feeder.

Leia's personal

FAVORITE Think of a paradax as a dangling green

their enrichment is provided by

sphere with holes where

specialized feeders that require time

handlers can place food.

manipulating objects with their head, mouth, and tongue.

The paradax can bounce in every direction like air bobbing for apples.

Turbo at 13 is the oldest of the giraffes.

You can spot him by his teddy bear face.

Meet

Jack (the only northern giraffe) is easy to identify by his irregular dark brown spots. He is definitely the tallest.

Leia

Leia (like Turbo and Amelia) is a reticular giraffe. She is 11 years old.

Amelia is the newest member of the group and the smallest. She is 2 and a half years old and though naturally small in

Amelia

statue big in personality.

At the Acacia Station you can climb a platform and feed a giraffe lettuce. Their eyes are mesmerlizing, and be prepared their black tongues are 18" to 20" long.

ADVENTURE S

Jack

Turbo

Lion Love

Reilly and Mekita are a celebrity couple at the zoo. They follow each other around, sniff each other, and cuddle at naptime. But it wasn't always that way.

When Mekita arived at the zoo Reilly was looking for a mate after the loss of Sala (his first love). Mekita was a little over a year old, so she was young and the only male lion she knew was her father. Mekita was known to be shy and timid. After a quarantine period and her introduction to the habit it was time for Reilly and Mekita to say "howdy", that is what the caretakers call a first introduction. The animals can see each other and interact but are separated by a door for protection. Caretakers hope that the animals will sniff each other, roll to show submission, or be playful. Reilly and Mekita were totally indifferent to each other for a long time. So to encourage interaction the door was opened. Mekita came charging into the room and smacked Reilly across the face. They tussled and Reilly pinned Mekita down to show his dominance. Mekita sprung up and smacked him again. The introduction was traumatic for Mekita. Back to "howdy" time. After many months the caretakers held their breath and opened the door again. Success!

Reilly did not display his dominance, and actually let Mekita push him around, even steal his bone. But there was no interest in procreating. Hoping that a little competition would up Reilly's libido, the caretakers had another zoo ship the poop of another male lion and placed it in the hallway of their night quarters. Reilly and Mekita were soon the proud parents of four cubs - two girls and two boys.

Reilly became a doting mate. He always leaves a few crumbs from his dinner for Mekita and waits for her to eat them so they can go back to their hillside together.

Sadly, Reilly passed away in August 2022, but Reilly & Mekita gave the world 9 offspring.

C'sar is the oldest African Elephant in the United States. He is 48 years old and weighs about 12,000 lbs.

C'sar does yoga to help him stay strong, maintain balance, and for range of motion.

Go C'sar!

There are 7 elephants at the North Carolina Zoo, 3 bulls, 4 cows, and 6 elephant keepers. The elephant keepers know how crucial it is to know andrespect the personality of each elephant. In the herd the Matriarchs are a mother/daughter pair, Tonga & Batir. Batir is higher ranking than her mother because she has a strong personality and formed a bond with Rafiki another female. They enjoy a 7 acre pachyderm habitat that includes an immersion walkway. The elephants are trained for husbandry. They are taught to present different parts of their body, such as an ear or foot. One of the trainer's favorite behaviors is 'big ears'. The elephants are asked to stick their ears straight out. It allows blood draws and ear inspections but also looks "super adorable."

Look for the Elephants along with the white rhinos, antelope & gazelles in the

Mosuba Mosuba, lovingly known as "Mo", is a Western Lowland Gorilla. A species that is critically endangered. Don't be surprized if you see a young gorilla nearby. It is very rare for gorillas to adopt or surrogate abandoned youth who need a parental figure. Mo is the exception. He has accepted and nurtured young gorillas who had been rejected several times in other zoos. Mo has artifically insiminated offspring of his own.

He is a gentle giant with a big heart. Like all gorillas he is very subtle and quiet. Mo's favorite foods are pineapple, oranges, kiwi, and grapes.

He also loves a good nap.

Watani Grasslands

entering

North America

Come meet new friends each has a story to tell

River Otters: Bono & Hannah Black Bears: Nova & Luna Sand Cats: Cosmo & Najama Vampire Bats: Johnny Cash has a black band Prince has a purple band & Janice Joplin bites! and so many more individual species from the rocky coast to the desert

Kendall It is very easy to fall in love with a chimpanzee, after all we share 99% of our DNA. They are our closest relative in the animal kingdom. Chimps are highly social and spend a large amount of time interacting with each other, cultivating friendships and alliances, and exhibiting behavious that we can relate to as humans.

Kendall was once more comfortable with humans than chimpanzees.

He was seen on TV advertisements with Drew Carey and has met Opra Winfrey. Kendall was born at a facility that breeds chimpanzees for the entertainment industry. But what happens to a chimp raised by humans who becomes unsuitable to use for performance?

Kendall found a home at the North Carolina Zoo. Kendall's care team worked for months to find a chimp in the in the social heirachy of the Zoo family who would accept Kendall. After all, Kendall didn't know how to be a chimp. There were many failures before his care team found a Kendall a friend. Her name was Tammy. Tammy was older and a low ranking female, but she knew how to be patient with Kendall's abnormal chimpanzee behaviours and social interactions.

Slowly Kendall began to learn Chimpanzee.

He was never fully successful, Kendall never fully integrated into the original chimpanzee habitat, but he has made more friends. In fact, He is the leader of his own troop of females. Kendall’s group plays an important role in the management of chimpanzees at the North Carolina Zoo. Because this group is much calmer than Jonathan’s group, made up of more socially appropriate chimpanzees, it is a “safer” place for individuals who are less socially savvy, who have medical concerns, or are geriatric.

Langley, Ryoshi & Kira The zoo houses 3 types of sea birds: horned puffins, thick-billed murres, and parakeet auklets. In the wild, they breed on the rocky coast of the North American Continent but spend the winter on the frigid ocean water far out of sight of land making scientific observation almost impossible. Much is being done at the North Carolina Zoo to better understand these magnificent water birds and to promote their survival.

An adorable trio of horned puffins were born recently to new parents who did not know how to properly provide for them. Caretakers fed them and taught them to swim before introducing them into their habitat.

Give these beauties & their caretakers a high five.

Payton Peyton is a recent addition to the North Carolina Zoo. he was born at the Brookfield Zoo in Chicago and named after, Chicago Bears running back Walter Payton.

Payton's keepers describe his personality as "goofy." He is easily excited and his big ears perk up and his head starts bobbing up and down. He like to play with his enrichment items which include a plastic garbage can. He will put the an on his head and fold it into tiny pieces. It is natural instinctive "crushing" behavior.

Payton's sense of smell is very strong, even for a polar bear.

The NC Zoo pool is deeper than most and Peyton has enjoyed deep swims.

Heath & Olive Heath and Olive are two of three kittens who were ofphaned in the wild. A hunter killed their mother before he knew that she had kittens. He did the right thing and followed her footprints back to the den, then advised the wildlife authorites so that these tiny kittens could be saved. Only a few days old they needed to be reared by humans. When the three were weaned they were shipped to North Carolina where wathing them wrestle, play and chase each other brought great joy. After each active play the three would pile up together for a nap.

As the three grew space for them all became an issue. It was discovered than another zoo had a male cougar, Syd, who was also abandoned, a few months yourger, and needed a buddy. Willow was the was the most outgoing and the boldest of the three. She went to live with Syd and they are purrfect together.

"I can still remember my first aligator feeding saying we just walk in there with them?"

Alligators are one of the dangerous animals that keepers routinely are in close contact with. They feed Gaterboy and Liv at two separate stations. They also train themfor medical examinations.

Those exams include weight measurement, collecting blood samples and doing radiographs if needed.Alligators only eat twice a week and then only in the months from April until October. Gatorboy is the largest of the two at 470 lbs. and10 ft. in length.

He was a rescue.

Gatorboy

entering

Asia

The North Carolina Zoo is thrilled to announce

the new 10-acre Asia Continent is now in construction and planning to open in 2026. Asia will highlight iconic species such as tigers, Komodo dragons, Visayan warty pigs, Asian small-clawed otters, red-crowned cranes, wrinkled hornbills, king cobras, white-cheeked gibbons, and many more exciting additions!

Fun fact: It will include a 300-seat indoor Café overlooking the tiger's habitat and have an overhead tiger walk.

Austraila

&

the Congo to follow

o

I highly recommend watching the National Geographic eight episode series on the North Carolina Zoo. https://www.nczoo.org/secrets-zoo-north-carolina-national-geographic Seeing the dedication, love, and care given to each animal will enrich your on-sight experience. It is gives a new perspective to know that every animal has a name and keepers who know their individual personality, who feed them, create experiences and training for them, and constantly monitor their health.

More than keepers these men and women are true

GUARDIANS The North Carolina Zoo's mission is to protect wildlife and wild places and to inspire people to join in conserving the natural world.

Outdoor Recreation Attractions The Zoo offers outdoor recreation activities for people of all ages. Kids can enjoy a ride in the Endangered Species Carousel, explore the Butterfly Garden, and have fun at the Treehouse Trek. Additionally, you can get close and personal with giraffes at the Giraffe Deck where you can participate in giraffe feeding, and take some amazing shots.

For adventurous people, the Zoo also offers hiking trails and an Air Hike Ropes course. And for people of all ages, the Zoofari is one of the most exciting animal experiences at the Zoo. Bring friends and family to experience memorable and fun attractions.

Animal Feeding Times Make plans to attend a scheduled animal feeding and talk with the amazing zookeepers! At the North Carolina Zoo, visitors can observe a range of activities, from feeding to training sessions. Some of the animals you can watch during “Meet the Keeper” encounters include the Harbor Seals in the North American region and Chimpanzees in the African region.

Zoo Tours: Family Activities for All Select from many unique behind-the-scenes tours of animal habitats with the North Carolina Zoo Society!

Choose a tour of up to 4 hours where you can have close animal encounters with species from all over the world. Discover a wide range of animal habitats or learn of horticulture with our zoo tours. Furthermore, you can even partake in an exclusive animal experience through our VIP tours where you can get up close and personal with some of our most popular animals.

“The past is never de

William

ead. It’s not even past.”

m Faulkner

Old Salem whether yours is a

Day

Trip

or a

Virtual Trip every expectation will be exceeded.

the voices of

the voice of

Old Salem

Persecution

Old Salem’s origins are rooted in defiance—born from a quiet but radical act of conscience that predated Martin Luther’s Reformation by more than sixty years. In 1415, John Hus of Bohemia was condemned and burned at the stake for challenging the authority of the Catholic Church. His crime was belief: that ordinary people should be able to read the Bible in their own language, and that communion should be shared fully, with both bread and wine, among all worshippers.

Hus’s execution did not silence his ideas. Instead, his followers organized into a faith community known as Unitas Fratrum, or the United Brethren. For generations, they endured waves of persecution that forced them to move again and again in search of religious freedom.

That refuge briefly appeared in Saxony, Germany, where Count Nicolaus Zinzendorf offered them land on his estate and protection for their beliefs.

Under Zinzendorf’s patronage, the United Brethren built a thriving, disciplined, and deeply spiritual community.

Yet peace proved temporary. By the 1730s, pressure and hostility from other Protestant denominations reignited old patterns of intolerance. In 1750, the brotherhood was ultimately expelled from Zinzendorf’s property—once again displaced, but not defeated, and prepared to carry their faith and communal ideals to a new world.

the voice of

Freedom

An unexpected opportunity arrived from across the Atlantic. The Earl of Granville offered the United Brethren—now known to the English as the Moravians—the chance to purchase one hundred acres in the untamed wilderness of North Carolina. It was an audacious proposal. Few among the Brethren had any experience surviving beyond settled towns, and the forests of the Carolina backcountry were vast, isolated, and largely unknown.

Doubt weighed heavily on the decision. Yet faith had carried them through exile before, and once again it prevailed. In 1753, fifteen men left the relative safety of Pennsylvania and set their course southward, guided not by maps or certainty, but by conviction. They believed that somewhere beyond the wilderness lay not just land, but destiny—a place where their community could finally take root.

Four of the original fifteen would return north to guide others, but eleven men were chosen to remain and establish the Moravian foothold in Wachovia. They were not adventurers by trade, but builders of civilization: a physician, carpenter, cooper, shoemaker, farmer, tailor, baker, miller, minister, surveyor, and town manager—an entire community distilled into eleven lives.

Aeri

Their journey covered 520 miles on foot in just forty days. When they reached the edge of their grant, they cut a new road through the forest for two and a half miles, marking their arrival not with ceremony, but with labor. As night fell on a bitter November evening, they discovered an abandoned hunter’s cabin, once used by a man named Hans Wagner. The shelter was a gift; the cold was unforgiving.

The next day was spent hunting for food. On the day after that, the real work began. Trees were felled, ground cleared, corn planted, and a brick baking oven constructed—small but essential signs of permanence in a vast wilderness. These men did not merely survive; they organized, built, and planned. Industry was not simply their strength—it was their creed.

Hans Wagner cabin Hans Wagner Cabin The first Moravian settlement in North Carolina was called Bethabara. It was not intended to be a final destination but a "house of passage" for the future central town of Salem. Bethabara's sole purpose was to be a center of commerce and trade, and to make money for the Moravian Church.

the voice of

War

Trade became a lifeline when the French and Indian War brought construction at Salem to a halt. Though the Moravians escaped direct attack, neighboring settlements did not, and waves of frightened families fled to Bethabara for safety. What had once been an isolated community suddenly stood at the center of a threatened frontier.

Tension sharpened as rumors spread that the once-friendly Cherokee might side with the French. If the rumors were true, the Brethren believed Bethabara would be the first to fall. Surrounded by fear and uncertainty, the Moravians relied on cooperation, vigilance, and trade—not merely to survive, but to hold the settlement together as danger closed in.

Gemhe

ial View

einhaus

The construction of a defensive fortification quickly became the town’s highest priority as refugees poured into Bethabara. With danger looming, the settlement turned inward, encircling itself with a wooden palisade meant to offer protection and reassurance.

By modern standards, the palisade appears modest—almost unimpressive. To contemporary eyes, it resembles little more than a rough-hewn backyard fence. Yet in the 1750s, it stood as a vital line of defense and a powerful symbol of resolve, marking the boundary between a fragile refuge and the uncertainty of the wilderness beyond.

Palisades

the voice of

Pacifists

In 1775, the American Revolution reached Wachovia, dragging war into the lives of a people sworn to peace. The Moravian Brethren, steadfast pacifists, were fined for refusing militia service until finally exempted by law—an exemption that offered little protection. American and British troops alike descended on their settlement, demanding food, supplies, and shelter, seldom paying for what they took. In 1780, Bethabara’s entire population—just sixty-nine men, women, and children—stood by as more than two thousand soldiers from opposing armies flooded their village, stripping it of provisions and testing the limits of their endurance and faith.

the voice of

Salem

The first tree for Salem fell in 1766, marking the beginning of a town shaped as much by faith as by foresight. The site itself had been chosen by casting lots, seeking God’s approval before a single axe was raised. Christian Gottlieb Reuter—royal surveyor to Frederick the Great—was entrusted with transforming wilderness into order. He laid out Salem’s streets with careful attention to access and drainage, then engineered an ambitious water system that carried fresh spring water through the town in hollowed-out log conduits.

From the start, Salem was conceived as a working community. Workshops, mills, and homes rose in harmony with the land, each placed with purpose. Trade and industry quickly flourished, not by chance, but by design—creating a town where daily life, labor, and landscape were woven into a remarkably efficient whole.

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the voice of

Equality

In Salem, as in Bethabara, equality was not an ideal—it was the organizing principle of daily life. The Moravian Church owned all the land, set wages, assigned housing, determined each person’s trade, and in many cases even guided whom they would marry. Private landownership was forbidden; instead, residents built their homes on lots leased from the Church, contributing financially to a shared pool that supported the entire community. Prices were regulated, wages controlled, and only Church members were permitted to operate shops. For the Moravians, this structure was not restrictive but reassuring—a system designed to remove status, competition, and want.

That same devotion to equality shaped how the Moravians worshiped, lived, and died. Community life was organized into “choirs,” groups defined by shared stages of life rather than wealth or rank: Single Brothers, Single Sisters, Widows, and others. Each choir lived together in its own house, worshiped together, and ultimately was laid to rest together. In death, they were buried in chronological order, as each soul was “called home to be with the Lord.”

The burial ground was known as God’s Acre. Here, flat stones lie evenly upon the earth, with no monuments to wealth or status. In life and in death, the Moravians affirmed a simple, enduring belief: all stand equal in the sight of God.

the Baker

the Tailor

No visit to Old Salem is complete without a stop at Winkler’s

Drew Neil is a present-day interpreter in the Single Brothers’

Bakery, where the aroma alone feels like an invitation across

House, where his craft is tailoring and his stage is the 18th

centuries. The baker rises before dawn, lights candles, and

century. Standing about 5'6", he favors striped fabric—a period

prepares pastries using many of the same methods practiced

trick meant to lend the illusion of height. Every shirt he wears

in the 18th century. Wood is fed into the domed, beehive oven

is one he has made himself. It is people like Drew who make

until it roars to life, reaching nearly 500 degrees. For today’s

the 1700s feel immediate and alive. Each piece of his clothing,

specialty—sugar cake—the oven must cool by about one

right down to his undergarments, is hand-sewn according to

hundred degrees, while the soft dough is left to proof slowly.

meticulous records from the period.

Potatoes, once a common starter, encourage natural

Neil does not simply portray history—he lives it. A history

yeast to bloom. The dough is then layered with butter

major by training, he knew early on that reenactment was his

and finished with a generous covering of brown sugar

calling, and his passion lies in authentic period dress. Day after

and cinnamon. Along with technique, tradition is baked

day, Drew measures fellow interpreters and hand-stitches their

in as well. Local lore claims that Moravian suitors once

garments—shirts, trousers, and headwear—using historical

judged a woman’s suitability for marriage by the size of her

techniques and materials. At Old Salem, every staff member

thumbs, used to press the signature indentations into the

wears clothing made by hand, just as it would have been 240

sugar cake—the bigger the thumb, the better the baker.

years ago.

Winkler’s Bakery takes its name from Christian Winkler,

Drew is one of dozens who earn their living in Salem by

whose family operated the shop from 1807 well into the 20th

inhabiting the past. Shoemakers, gunsmiths, gardeners, and

century, preserving flavors—and stories—that still linger

women working over hearth fires prepare meals from Moravian

today.

recipes of the 1700s, creating a community where history is not displayed—it is lived.

the voice of the

Craftsmen

the Brewer From their earliest days, Moravian communities were known for producing distilled beverages in remarkable quantities, blending practicality with tradition. By 1764, their stores included ninety gallons of beer, two hundred seventy gallons of brandy, and forty gallons of rye whiskey.

Whiskey was sold to non-Moravians at the tavern, while beer—rich in calories—served as daily sustenance for laborers enduring long, physically demanding days.

Brandy, often made from peaches, blackberries, or apples, was widely consumed and believed to offer healing benefits, especially when infused with medicinal herbs.

Bethabara holds the distinction of being the earliest known brewer’s house in North Carolina, and alcohol played a significant role in the Moravians’ economic success. Yet prosperity came with strict moral oversight. The Moravians watched closely for alcohol’s corrupting influence within their congregation, and discipline could be severe. Heinrich Feldman, Wachovia’s first official brewer, was ultimately expelled for yielding to carnal desires—an enduring reminder that in Moravian life, industry and discipline were inseparable.

the Potter “People gathered from fifty and sixty miles away to buy pottery, but many came in vain, as the supply was exhausted by noon.

We greatly regretted not being able to supply their needs.”

— Bethabara Diary, June 15, 1761 Demand like this was no accident. Built in 1782, the Potter’s House stands today as the oldest brick house in Forsyth County, a testament to Bethabara’s early role as a center of skilled craft. It was here that North Carolina’s first European pottery kiln took shape. In 1755, Gottfried Aust arrived in Wachovia carrying with him a craft essential to daily life— pottery-making—and a level of expertise rare on the frontier.

The land itself cooperated. Rich local clay allowed Brother Aust to produce sturdy, lead-glazed earthenware that quickly became indispensable to settlers across the region.

His work was so influential that when Aust later moved to Salem, the tradition followed. His apprentice went on to introduce Queensware, or “fine pottery,” elevating local production from frontier necessity to refined craft.

the voice of the

Ghosts

From the earliest days of Old Salem, stories of the unexplained have lingered in its shadows—apparitions glimpsed at dusk, sudden chills in places where deaths occurred, and objects that seem to move without cause. Ghosts of Old Salem by G. T. Montgomery recounts many of these encounters, but none is told more often than the tale of the “Little Red Man.” The story begins during an expansion of the Single Brothers’ House. One Saturday evening, a group of young men decided to dig the cellar for the new addition, working late by the dim glow of lantern light. Among them was Andreas Kresmer, just thirty-four years old. Shorter than his companions, Kresmer worked closer to the ground, kneeling to keep pace with the others. Without warning, a ledge collapsed beneath him. Though the men frantically dug him free, the injuries were fatal.

As the earth was cleared away, the first thing revealed was Kresmer’s distinctive red hat. Since that night, there have been numerous well-documented sightings of a small figure in red—known simply as the Little Red Man—said to still wander Old Salem, a silent reminder of tragedy that refuses to fade.

Education has always been central to Moravian life. The earliest settlers in Bethabara opened a school for both boys and girls—an uncommon commitment for the time—later expanding their efforts in Bethania and then Salem. Shaped by their Germanic heritage and deep-rooted industriousness, the Moravians believed education was essential for every child. Even the iconic Moravian star traces its origins to a lesson in geometry and symmetry, where faith and learning intersected.

That dedication took lasting form in 1772 with the founding of Salem Academy and College, established just six years after Salem itself. Beginning as a school for young girls, it stands today as the oldest educational institution for girls and women in the United States.

Meticulous record keeping has made Old Salem one of the most authentic and historically accurate recreations of an 18th-century community. Many buildings are original, while others have been carefully restored using detailed Moravian records. Interpreters wear handmade clothing crafted with period methods and perform daily tasks ranging from gardening and cooking to gunsmithing and tanning. Old Salem showcases sustainable living as it was practiced two centuries ago—a place where time-tested ways feel surprisingly modern.

In response to periods when in-person learning is challenging, Old Salem has developed engaging classes in science, math, social studies, and language arts for students from kindergarten through eighth grade. Taught by interpreters, lessons come alive: geometry with the furniture maker, statistics through brick-oven baking. Learning here is immersive, memorable, and fun. For more information, visit www.oldsalem.org under the Teacher category.

Enjoy

the voice of the

Education

“Nothing happens twice i

makes every

Carl S

in the same way, for the river

y moment new.”

Sandburg

Yadkin Valley

Where Quiet Roads, Deep Roots & Wine Country Welcome You In Just over an hour from the Research Triangle, the Yadkin Valley offers foothill beauty, celebrated wines, outdoor adventure, and a slower rhythm that feels worlds away from city life.

T

HE “PLACE OF BIG TREES” TREES”

“ History settles into the soil here the way mist settles into the foothills.” foothills. ”

Long before tasting rooms, hiking trails, or river access points appeared on maps, the Yadkin Valley was home to Indigenous peoples who lived, hunted, farmed, and fished along the winding river. Siouan-speaking tribes — including the Tutelo, Cheraw, Saponi, Saura, Catawba, and Cherokee — named the waterway Yattkin, meaning “place of big trees.” Trader Abraham Wood recorded the word in 1674, offering the earliest written glimpse into the region’s identity.

By the mid-1700s, Europeans began arriving in steady numbers. Fertile soil and abundant water drew German, Scotch-Irish, and English families westward from the coast and Piedmont. Among these early settlers were the Bryans, whose granddaughter Rebecca would marry Daniel Boone. The young Boone spent his formative years in the Yadkin Valley, where he learned frontier skills, raised a family, and developed the self-reliance that later made him a legend. He left the region in 1769 to explore the lands beyond the mountains, but the valley shaped the man who shaped the myth.

Following the Revolutionary War, the Yadkin Valley became one of the most populated areas in North Carolina. Communities clustered around the river, powering iron forges, grist mills, and burgeoning textile operations. When attempts to make the river navigable proved impractical, railroads arrived in the late 1800s, linking rural towns and spurring commercial growth. The region stepped into the modern era with the construction of Idol’s Dam in 1898 — the state’s first hydroelectric power plant — which energized Winston-Salem’s expansion and propelled new industries forward.

As the twentieth century progressed, the valley adapted again. When tobacco declined, the land itself offered a new direction. Sharing climate similarities with Bordeaux and soils akin to northern Italy, the Yadkin Valley revealed its potential for growing European-style grapes. Farmers and entrepreneurs planted the first modern vineyards in the late 20th century, and by the early 2000s, the region became North Carolina’s first federally recognized American Viticultural Area.

Today, the Yadkin Valley’s story remains one of resilience, reinvention, and a deep connection to the land — qualities that shape everything visitors experience here.

As the Yadkin Valley moved into the late twentieth century, another chapter began to unfold—one that would reshape the region’s identity and draw visitors from across the country. Long after mills quieted and railroad whistles faded, farmers looked again to the earth beneath their feet for possibility. They knew its strengths intimately: soil that had nourished families for generations, foothill slopes warmed by sunlight and cooled by mountain breezes, and a river that had sustained life for thousands of years.

What they didn’t yet know was that this land could also grow some of the most promising grapes on the East Coast.

When the Shelton brothers bought a foreclosed dairy farm at auction, their vision was bold, almost improbable. But they sensed that the same landscape once relied upon for tobacco, grain, and cattle held the potential for something new. With a climate echoing Bordeaux and soils reminiscent of northern Italy, the Yadkin Valley proved not just suitable for European-style grapes—it excelled at them.

That single decision rippled across the region. Vine by vine, ridge by ridge, the valley transformed. Today, more than 45 wineries rise from former fields, their tasting rooms overlooking hillsides where sunrise catches the silver-green shimmer of leaves after early morning dew.

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Visitors see the quiet beauty—rosebushes marking each row, willow trees bowing toward reflective ponds, oak barrels stacked in cool cellars. But the reality is far more demanding, and far more interesting. At the Shelton-Badgett NC Center for Viticulture & Enology, students train in everything from microscopic vine diseases to the chemistry of fermentation. They learn that grape growing here is equal parts art and endurance: fending off Japanese beetles, managing humidity, preventing erosion, and pruning with the precision of a sculptor.

Inside the teaching winery, beakers clink, stainless-steel tanks hum, and young winemakers sharpen their craft. Their Surry Cellars label represents the valley’s forward momentum—a place where tradition and experimentation work hand in hand.

Sip a Chambourcin, and you taste warm foothill nights.

Enjoy a Traminette, and you catch the crisp edge of mountain air.

Savor a Viognier, and you sense the same sunlight that once fell on ancient forests.

The valley didn’t try to replicate Napa or France. Instead, it let the land speak. And they listened.

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With wine shaping one of the valley’s most vibrant modern chapters, visitors soon discover that its beauty doesn’t end at the vineyard fence.

Just beyond the tasting rooms lie trails that climb granite domes, rivers that curl past orchards and farms, and small towns where history is never more than a short walk away.

The Yadkin Valley invites travelers to savor its wines, but also to wander, climb, taste, hike, and discover the many stories waiting beyond the glass.

You see Pilot Mountain before anything else—an unmistakable quartzite knob rising above the patchwork of farms and forests.

Indigenous peoples once used it as a landmark, a guidepost on seasonal journeys. Early settlers knew it as a beacon when crossing the foothills.

Today, hikers approach it with the same sense of recognition.

Trails wind around its flanks, each turn revealing a sweeping view of the valley floor.

Peregrine falcons circle the cliffs; breezes carry the scent of pine and sun-warmed rock. From its overlooks, the vastness of the Yadkin Valley spreads out like an open book—every ridge and river a line of its story.

Step onto the Mountains-toSea Trail here, and you’re literally walking across North Carolina, one step at a time.

Pilot Mountain is not just a destination; it’s a beginning. beginning.

If Pilot Mountain is the valley’s exclamation point, Hanging Rock State Park is its poetry. The moment you enter, the air feels different—cooler, greener, alive with the sound of falling water. More than 20 miles of trails twist through shaded forests and rocky ledges, leading explorers to five waterfalls whose names alone—Lower Cascades, Indian Creek, Tory’s Den—sound like chapters in a mountain tale.

The summit trail rewards you with a panorama that stretches for miles: layers of blue ridges fading into the horizon, with stone outcrops jutting into the sky like ancient sentinels. At sunset, the rock glows rose-gold, and the valley below softens into shadow.

Families wander the easier paths. Solo hikers seek out solitude. Adventurers push toward the cliffs. There’s a place in this park for everyone—and always one more hidden corner to discover.

Then there is Stone Mountain, a giant granite dome that rises unexpectedly from the forest, as if the earth itself decided to surface for a better view. Approaching it feels almost cinematic—the trees suddenly part, and there it is, vast and silver, catching light in a way no photograph ever fully captures.

The loop trail takes you up, around, and beside this monolith. Along the way you’ll hear the rush of trout streams, clear and cold even in summer. Experienced anglers wade into the East Prong of the Roaring River, their lines flicking through the air, the forest muffling all sound except the water.

Here, a person can disappear into the quiet for hours. The granite dome watches over everything, patient and unchanging.

The Yadkin River curls through the valley like a long, winding sentence—shaping farms, carving banks, and gathering stories from every community it touches. On the 125-mile Yadkin River State Trail, paddlers drift past steep bluffs, waving grasses, and quiet coves where turtles slip off logs into the water.

Some stretches feel timeless, as if the river remembers the feet that once walked its banks long before kayaks and canoes. Early morning brings mist that hovers just above the surface; afternoons sparkle as sunlight glints off the water. It is peace in motion.

The Yadkin Valley is a haven for anglers. This is not by accident, but because its waters are as varied as its landscapes. The Yadkin River holds bass, catfish, and sunfish in its calm pools. High Rock Lake, a favorite among tournament anglers, reliably produces trophy-sized largemouth bass.

Cold, clear creeks like the Mitchell, Ararat, and Big Elkin slice through the foothills, ideal for trout who thrive in untouched, oxygen-rich waters.

In the Yadkin Valley, every trail, river bend, and mountain edge carries a story. Some stories are centuries old, some just beginning, many waiting to be discovered by the next traveler who steps off the highway and follows curiosity into the foothills.

This is a landscape that invites exploration.

A place where the wild and the peaceful live side by side.

A valley that never stops revealing itself, no matter how many times you return.

While hikers and paddlers follow the valley’s more dramatic landscapes, cyclists experience its heartbeat.

Rolling roads dip into hollows and rise to gentle ridgelines. Farmland stretches out in quilt-like patches.

Old barns lean gracefully with age. Wind moves through meadow grasses. And the quiet—interrupted only by the rhythmic hum of tires, reminds riders why the Yadkin Valley feels like home even on a first visit.

Yadkin Valley

may be known for its vineyards and mountain views, but

its soul lives in its small towns, in the places where sidewalks still feel like gathering spots, porches double as welcome mats, and traditions are carried forward with quiet pride.

Whether you wander through Elkin, Dobson, or Mount Airy, each town offers its own rhythm, shaped by generations who learned to live from the land and from one another.

Mount Airy Strolling along Mount Airy’s main street feels like stepping into a story you already know. It is lined with references to Andy Griffith. It is a city filled with friendly waves, familiar architecture, and a pace that invites you to linger. Murals brighten tucked-away alleys, and the sound of conversation drifts out of doorways as though the town itself is happy to see you.

Dobson Dobson moves to a steadier, agricultural rhythms. The sounds of farms, vineyards, and open fields marking the landscape. In home kitchens, the stories run deep. Sonker recipes are passed down like heirlooms, each with its own subtle variations: more fruit here, a thinner batter there, the occasional swirl of spice known only to one family.

Elkin Elkin is a trail town at heart. It is a place where river, footpaths, and historic streets all meet. It’s impossible to miss the sense of welcome here. The tradition of sonker feels especially alive, woven into gatherings, celebrations, and moments that call for something warm on the table.

Each region and city boasts its own Sonker ... A Sonker is the dessert that defies strict definition. It is part cobbler, part baked pudding, wholly its own. Some believe the fruit “sinks” into the batter, giving rise to the name. Others point to the region’s Scots-Irish roots. Truthfully, no one knows for sure, and no one minds.

A sonker is always shared. It’s a dish that carries stories with it.

Stories of family tables, seasonal fruit, and the simple pleasure of warm dessert on a cool evening.

A Simple Surry County Sonker Recipe Ingredients 4 cups sliced peaches, berries, or thinly sliced sweet potatoes 1 cup sugar (adjust to taste) 1 cup all-purpose flour 1 cup milk ½ cup melted butter 1 tsp vanilla extract Pinch of salt For the Dip 1 cup whole milk ½ cup sugar 1 tsp vanilla Instructions Preheat oven to 350°F. Toss fruit with half the sugar.

Whisk flour, remaining sugar, milk, butter, vanilla, and salt until smooth.

Pour batter into a deep baking dish; spoon fruit over top (don’t stir).

Bake 50–60 minutes until golden and bubbling.

Warm the dip ingredients on the stove until sugar dissolves.

Serve warm sonker with a spoonful of dip.

Rustic. Homey. Impossible to resist.

Here, history lingers in river bends and in the shadow of ancient trees. Artists and vintners continue traditions of craft. Bakers pass down recipes that connect generations. And visitors from the Triangle find themselves returning again and again, each drawn by the valley’s peaceful rhythm and the way it makes the world feel a little lighter.

Whether you come for an afternoon or for a weekend, the Yadkin Valley welcomes you with stories as deep as its river and beauty that stays with you long after the drive home.

“The mountains are

Joh

calling and I must go.”

hn Muir

tales of the

Blue Ridge Parkway The most visited park in the United States is on our door step. It is the Blue Ridge Parkway, averaging five times more visitors a year than Yellowstone or the Grand Canyon.

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Tales of the Blue Ridge Parkway

"There in the highlands, clear weather held for much of the time. The air lacked its usual haze, and the view stretched on and on across rows of blue mountains, each paler than the last until the final ranks were indistinguishable from the sky. It was as if all the world might be composed of nothing but valley and ridge.”

Charles Frazier

In the late 1800s, a bold idea began to take shape: an eastern national park set among misty blue and purple mountains of remarkable beauty. Visitors from Washington endured a seven-hour train journey and the spare comforts of tents, cots, and simple water pitchers, all for the privilege of soaking in sweeping views, a “salubrious” climate, and the reputedly “healing springs” of the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the mid to late nineteenth century, this kind of travel was not for everyone. Tourism was an experience reserved almost exclusively for the wealthy.

The idea of a road traversing the South Appalachians dates back to 1906, when a North Carolina geologist, Joseph Hyde Pratt, proposed a scenic road through southwestern Virginia and western North Carolina. He called the road "the Crest of the Blue Ridge." Pratt had a vision of bringing visitors to the North Carolina mountains to experience views "never to be forgotten". A scenic toll road was proposed to span the crest of the Blue Ridge Mountains from Whitetop Mountain near Marion, Virginia, to Tallulah Falls, Georgia. Pratt acquired funds and even started building the road. Convict labor was suggested to keep the cost down. Camps were built, and construction began in 1912. However, in 1914, all was halted when the United States entered World War I. In 1926, Congress established the first and second national parks east of the Mississippi. The site was to be accessible to the 40 million Americans living in eastern cities, including Washington, DC. The two areas chosen were the Great Smoky Mountains in Tennessee and the Shenandoah Mountains in Virginia and North Carolina. In 1929, President Herbert Hoover built a rustic getaway on a trout stream high in the Shenandoahs. Here, he introduced many influential visitors to the pleasures of the Blue Ridge.

The "greatest single feature" of the proposed park was to be a "sky-line drive along the mountain top, following a continuous ridge and looking down westerly on the Shenandoah Valley…and also commanding a view of the Piedmont Plain stretching easterly to the Washington Monument."

Harry F. Byrd, Governor of Virginia.

Two hundred men went to work building a road to President Hoover's fishing site. It was pointed out that a paved road was needed to quickly and safely carry the president between his camp and the White House. Some Congressmen scoffed at the idea of using taxpayer money to build what they considered a private road for the president.

Others stressed that the road was necessary to publicize the park and to provide work relief for mountain families victimized by a drought that had stricken Virginia in the summer of 1930. This drought had destroyed mountain crops and severely damaged Valley apple orchards, thereby reducing the number of people who could find work in the orchards in the fall. Many families would be in desperate need of assistance. In 1930, a bill was passed that allowed for the use of drought relief funds to build the first segment of Skyline Drive.

"It is a wonder way over which the tourist will ride comfortably in his car while he is stirred by a view as exhilarating as the aviator may see from the plane." U.S. Senator Harry Byrd President Roosevelt visited a Civilian Conservation Corps camp where men were working on the fledgling Skyline Drive in 1933. Roosevelt was smitten with this job-creating project and enamored with Virginia Senator Byrd's suggestion to fund a larger road to connect Shenandoah with the Great Smoky Mountains. The timing was perfect. Thanks to the new "affordable" car, an automobile craze had taken hold of the country, and scenic drives were a newfound pastime. The Great Depression had grasped the country, and its devastating impact had many in need of work, especially in Appalachians.

In 1838, Sallie Coles Stephenson, wife of the American ambassador to the Court of St. James, presented Queen Victoria with apples grown in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. These "Albemarle Pippins" were so favored by the Queen that for decades, they were allowed to enter the British Isles duty-free. The orchard in which they were grown became known as Royal Orchard because of Victoria's favor. In 1903, the Scott family of Richmond purchased the 388-acre Royal Orchard for $3,900. Within a few years, the Scotts expanded their property to 4,000 acres, and in 1911

began construction of a "castle" on their land. Their architect was later commissioned to design the National Archives and the National Gallery of Art. When the Skyline Drive was approved, its path sliced through the Scott's land. The Scotts donated $300,000 for the erection of a stadium at the University of Virginia that still bears their name, and the parkway was diverted to a lower section of land outside of the "castle" view. This sounds like a case of public policy being determined by position and influence, but it also cut the cost. The Scott's richly productive land was too expensive for the Virginia legislature to afford.

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The parkway was a product of the Great Depression and the New Deal programs created by President Franklin Roosevelt to stimulate the economy and put people to work. Initial funding came from the Public Works Administration and later from New Deal agencies: the Resettlement Administration, the Works Progress Administration, and the Civilian Conservation Corps.

“It is the first use of the parkway idea, purely and wholeheartedly for the purposes of tourist recreation distinguished from the purposes of regional travel." Stanley W. Abbott

Two experts were hired to lead the parkway project, Jay Downer (chief engineer) and Gilmore D. Clark (chief landscape architect). Downer and Clark hired Stanley Abbott to work under their direction. Abbott was a 25 year old Cornell graduate with a degree in landscape architecture.

After Downer and Clark were told by Harold Ickes, Interior Secretary under Franklin Roosevelt, that they would have to reduce their salary of $75 a day by two-thirds, they both resigned leaving Stanley Abbott in charge.

San Abbott's vision was to capture the natural beauty, the cultural essence, and the historical value of the native land. In his words, it should “lie easily on the ground, blend harmoniously with the topography, and appear as if it had grown out of the soil."

Stan Abbott proved not only a great idea man but a good communicator, which was vital to the success of the Parkway. Abbott had to deal with two State Highway Departments, the Forest Service, Federal and State agencies, and with the mountain families who were overall suspicious of strangers and resentful of change.

Dealing evenhandedly with local communities and community organizations was crucial. Stan's Blue Ridge Parkway News publication was his way of taking communities and individuals into his confidence by telling them what was going on and what was planned.

He made a point of meeting personally with landowners and groups. Stan Abbott's publication and his personal efforts to provide news of the latest plans and operations helped him earn the reputation of being fair in his dealings with everyone. Being transparent, available, and "hands on" paid off.

“The sweeping view over the low country often holds the center of the stage, but seems to exit gracefully enough when the Parkway leaves the ridge for the more gentle slopes and the deeper forests.”

One of the "big ideas" Abbott promoted was arranging the purchase of parkway land that was then leased back to farmers for agricultural use. Farmers didn't lose their crops or their livelihood.

He also arranged for scenic easements that gave the Park Service development rights without having to pay for the land. Buying the scenery instead of buying the land saved money, time, and political capital.

Using these and other ingenious tactics, Abbott managed to thread the parkway through the mountains with consummate skill.

In an interview taped after Stan Abbott left the parkway project, Stan remarked that he had been fortunate that the Park Service was preoccupied with their new and enlarged responsibilities and left him to do his job almost entirely on his own. However, early in the game, Abbott did enlist the help of Ed Abbuehl, who had been one of his instructors at Cornell and proved an invaluable right hand man and sounding board. A very practical idealist, Ed served as a balance to Stan's sometimes impractical flights of fancy. As the route of the Parkway became apparent, Stan and Ed conceived the idea of acquiring what was referred to as "bulges," widenings of the Parkway. Here, he would create a series of "parks within parks" strung along the roadway in a bead-like fashion. The purpose of these "parks" was to offer a range of recreational choices to include opportunities for hiking, camping, fishing, and views of waterfalls and other sites not visible from the road. At appropriate intervals along the Parkway, there would be visitor centers, interpretive programs, lodges, restaurants, and other visitor services. Stanley Abbott felt the need for a broad strip of parkland surrounding the road to eliminate: “the parasitic and unsightly border development of the hot-dog stand, the gasoline shack, and the billboard.”

Stanley Abbott Abbott believed that the Blue Ridge should function as an outdoor museum of rural life, telling the story of the mountain folk, their struggle to survive, their agricultural pursuits, and the mountain retreats of the wealthy. The parkway would speak to the visitor about life and lifestyles in the mountains. It would celebrate the blending of nature and culture. Structures like the Mabry Mill, Puckett Cabin and Polly Woods Ordinary were restored to preserve the cultural elements vital to the storyline of the region.

"You can't possibly have a more fascinating, creative jog than the Blue Ridge Parkway was, because - you talk about the Pleiades canvas and a comet's tail for a brush - you really were working with terrifically beautiful and vast landscape features ... I get homesick talking about it."

Stanley Abbott At the time of the Blue Ridge Parkway's conception, the land had been settled for over 250 years by the Scotch-Irish and German immigrants. They were virtually cut off from the outside world, living in remote ridges and hollows. The fertile lowlands had been claimed in the late 1700s. Many of these valley farmers also owned timber and mineral land in the mountains and allowed newcomers to homestead there indefinitely. Of course, there were squatters as well.

"By the beginning of the 20th century virtually very piece of land that could produce anything was used. Grazing pastures and subsistence gardens had replaced the forest. The soil eroded rapidly with the loss of proper ground cover, and soil depleted by constant farming produced less each year. Wild game was depleted, and large game such as deer were vanishing." the National Park Service

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By 1900, the mountain population was only half of what it had been in the 1880's. Determined to make do, the remaining families clung to the land. They lived in simple frame houses or log cabins, gardened a few acres, and heated with wood or kerosene.

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The Mabry Mill at milepost 176 is one of the most photographed places in the U.S. It was a blacksmith, a wheelwright shop, and a sawmill before becoming a gristmill in 1905. By 1910, the front part of the mill included a lathe for turning out wheel hubs, a tongue and groove lathe, a planer, and a jigsaw. The gristmill and sawmill have been restored, and the milling process is demonstrated here daily.

More than half the families earned less than $100 a year from intermittent day labor and the sale of produce, timber, and baskets. The chestnut tree was the most valued of the forest species. Its bark contained tannin for curing leather; its wood provided durable fence posts and shingles and railroad ties; its nuts were eaten, sold, fed to hogs, and used to attract squirrels for stewing. But the primitive tanbark business suffered a series of setbacks, first from a devastating chestnut blight that decimated the Blue Ridge forests in 1920s and then from the development of chemical tanning and the relocation of new tanneries closer to railroad lines.

These were hard times indeed.

Passing legislation to create the road proved easier than building it.

The Southern Appalachians were isolated, paved roads were nonexistent, and maps were scarce. The rugged terrain was daunting, but the biggest roadblock to construction was winning the public's trust. People were scared of the strangers who appeared in the mountains: surveyors, commissioners, social workers, and doctors. They talked of evictions, condemnation proceedings, proof of ownership, and resettlement.

Not only were mountain people forced off the land, but most did not qualify for compensation. More than half -- 268 families -- did not own the land they had farmed and lived on for generations. Only 7 percent of the parkland was owned by full-time residents.

With the Great Depression in full swing, real estate values had plummeted across the nation. As elsewhere, it was a buyer's market in the Blue Ridge. Cattle farms with fertile pastures were valued at $10 to $25 an acre, mountain parcels at $1 to $5 an acre.

In Rappahannock County, Robert Burke took $900 for his 98 acres. Gordon Cave sold his church and 16 acres for $775. The largest land owner -- Staunton lawyer John Alexander -held title to 24,000 acres panning four counties -- but he was in prison for forgery and did not receive compensation. Today all of his property is parkland.

The Skyline Drive project promised farmers that they could use the new road to get their produce to market. The promise was kept the first year, there was a toll for roadway use the second and third years, and after that the Skyline Drive was restricted for personal use only. Virginia did not have the financial resources or the federal services that were available later for the Blue Ridge Parkway.

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In 1908, a 17-year-old girl, Rebecca Moxley, was married and expecting a child. Rebecca had a dream that she would die shortly after giving birth. She asked a local farmer, Pack Murphy, if she could be buried beneath her favorite apple tree on his land, Cumberland Knob. Pack Murphy agreed to Rebecca's request, figuring it was just her imagination. As she had foreseen, Rebecca Moxley died three days after giving birth. Her grave is marked in a small cemetery near the Cumberland Knob picnic area. The apple tree is no longer there, but the stone on Rebecca's grave and her story live on to this day.

On September 11, 1935, about 100 workers started clearing and grading land on Pack Murphy's farm, beginning the parkway's initial 12.5 mile segment from Virginia to the North Carolina border at Cumberland Knob. Little of the land was pristine. It had been timbered, farmed, and eroded by overuse and time. So thousands of trees and tons of dirt were moved. Much of the early labor was done by hand. The Public Works Administration's first contract paid men 30 cents an hour for a six-day week.

Ben Caudill, born in Sparta in 1925, had to lie about his age to land a job on the Parkway. Caudill was part of a Civilian Conservation Corps landscaping crew that felled trees by hand with cross-cut saws and axes to make way for the road builders.

After construction, the crew went back to replant the denuded roadsides. In an oral history, Caudill recounted bluntly the fate of a family member employed in a far more dangerous line of work on the Parkway. “My first cousin got blowed up at Ice Rock,” Caudill said. The Parkway often came up against sheer, rock cliffs, like the infamous Ice Rock. Blasting was the only way to chisel out a toehold for the road. “They’d tie you to a rope and tie the dynamite to you and let down the rope, drill your hole and fill it full and bring you back out and then shoot it,” Caudill said. Dynamite crews made more than any other workers, 65 cents an hour from what Raleigh Hollefield remembers.

“Blastin’ and drillin’ is what I done,” said Hollefield, “It was pretty dangerous and a rough job.”

Buren Ballard, born in 1909 in Weaverville, made 45 cents an hour drilling holes for the dynamite — less than the blasters but more than the average laborers. “We’d go way up above on one of them big cliffs and tie a rope to a tree, and then put on a safety belt, and then go down on that cliff. And they’d swing the jackhammer down to us. I would stay on them cliffs for three and four hours,” Ballard said in an oral history interview on file in Parkway archives. When building tunnels, Ballard would stand on scaffolding across its face, drilling away with his 60-pound jackhammer. A man on his crew was killed when he drilled into a hole that was already filled with dynamite that not yet been set off.

Another man was loading dynamite into a hole when lightning struck it and blasted apart the rock, breaking the man’s hip.

Ballard worked on the morning shift, which started at 5 a.m. It was too dark to see yet, so he laid a flashlight across the rock when starting a hole.

He got up at 2 a.m. and walked out to the main road by his house, where another worker picked him up. If it was too muddy or icy, they both walked through the woods and over mountains for two hours to get to work. His wife packed him a lunch of biscuits, eggs, ham and jelly — and a thermos of coffee. On the job site, he would cut a limb off a bush and hang his lunch box from the stub. It was cold work given the Parkway’s high elevation. When Ballard was first hired, his job was to walk up and down an air compressor line that fed the jack hammers, lighting small fires along its one-mile run to keep it from freezing.

Until the Parkway came along, there were no prospects for work. “Couldn’t find a job nowhere,” Ballard said. “If it hadn’t been for Roosevelt, I guess I’d have starved to death.” The Parkway was launched under the New Deal, but only a fraction of the labor came from the Civilian Conservation Corps or Works Progress Administration. The bulk was contracted out to construction companies, which in turn hired local men.

“They were proud to be able to have a job,” Jolly said. “The income gave them a better life than they would have had without the Parkway.”

Mary's Rock Tunnel (pictured to the left) took workers three months to drill and blast through the east slopes of Mary's Rock. The two lane tunnel is 670 ft. long and only 12 ft. 8 in high. It is one of 26 tunnels in the Blue Ridge Parkway,.

After funding from New Deal legislation, masterful artistic planning, backbreaking work, and personal sacrifice, the Blue Ridge Parkway reveals its majestic beauty at every turn, both on and off the road.

Stan Abbott's "parks within parks" showcase blue-misted mountains, cascading waterfalls, rolling pastures, and gorges banked with wildflowers to greet hikers of all skill levels.

More than 100 varied and intriguing trails in North Carolina and Virginia lead through a series of unparalleled views to sites that include 59 waterfalls. There are eight official Blue Ridge Parkway campgrounds and one hotel (at Little Switzerland) that opened in 1910. Fourteen picnic areas are located along the parkway. In addition, many overlooks have tables where you may picnic. There are a total of 26

tunnels in the Parkway, all but one of which is in North Carolina. Driving through these old tunnels is an experience.

Entering the tunnel simulates suddenly stepping into a deep black cave. For a moment, there is no corresponding archway in the darkness ahead. The road nestles into the curve along the mountainside and the tunnel curves with it. There is nothing to see except shadows and stone. A small opening appears and grows. At the exit, sunlight is overwhelming, and vistas of the Blue Ridge Parkway appear all the more spectacular for their burst out of the darkness.

Likewise, waterfalls are popular with park visitors, whether they are outdoor explorers or not. The relaxing sounds, the sheer beauty, and the feel of a fresh mist of mountain water against your face is an irresistible draw.

The herbal lore, basketry, music, and even dancing that are so much a part of traditional Appalachian culture have roots in the exchange of culture when Europeans, Africans, and Native Americans met on the Appalachian frontier. The stories of these people tell us of the richness and wealth of this ancient slice of America.

Native Americans first began to gather in the Blue Ridge area about 16,000 years ago. Their traditions have guided and supported the Blue Ridge culture longer than any other settlers. When the Europeans arrived, there were fifty plus Cherokee towns and settlements connected by a system of foot trails, many of which became wagon roads built by Cherokee companies. The growing immigrant's demand for land led to bloody battles and treaties with the Native American tribes that were subsequently broken. The government forced Native Americans to move west on the tragic "Trail of Tears. The remaining Cherokee still steward the delicate mountain landscape that is their ancestral home.

Appalachia was comprised of a complex mix of ethnic groups. Their one common trait was that they were accustomed to working hard and being self reliant. In short, they had the intestinal fortitude it took to rough it out in the back country of the rugged Blue Ridge Mountains.

In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, about ninety percent of the settlers were Scots-Irish, whose ancestors had migrated to northern Ireland from the Scottish lowlands. Many had been supporters of William of Orange, known as "King Billy" among the Scots. When King James II invaded Ireland in 1689, Williams's followers, known as "Billyboys," hid in the forest along the hills for sneak attacks on the enemy. Their American ancestors had no love for English settlers, so the "hillbillies" settled into the wilderness of the Blue Ridge Range. The "hillbillies" were largely poor, humble, and self-reliant, with an innate distrust of the government. They were stereotyped as wile, reclusive mountain men.

Orleana Hawkins was born in 1844 and married John Puckett at the age of sixteen.

John built his new family a two-story small cabin near Groundhog Mountain. Orleana and John had twenty-four children, none of whom survived more than a few days. However, Orleana brought more than 1,000 babies into the world and never lost a mother or a child.

She first served as a midwife in 1889, when there were no doctors in the region. Orleana was famous with the local residents for her passion, skill, and devotion. She traveled up to twenty miles to deliver babies. The Pucketts were forced to move from their cabin for the construction of the Blue Ridge Parkway in 1939. Orleana died soon thereafter. A small cabin with her name was preserved by the National Park Service. Orleana epitomized the

"backbone and spirit of the hillbillies."

German Immigrants were often referred to as Dutch because they came from "Deutschland." They brought with them German foods, such as apple butter and sauerkraut. Their carpentry skills were masterful, and they introduced the chinked-corner cabins. The German cultural identity was strong, and they didn't assimilate into the local community, keeping to their own schools and churches. German settlement had a substantial impact on displacement of Native Americans. The most notable German immigrant was an entrepreneur named Moses Cone.

Moses Cone rose from immigrant roots to become a leading industrialist during America's Gilded Age. The story of the Cone family begins with Moses' father, Herman Kahn, who immigrated to America from Bavaria, Germany in 1846 when he was 17 years old. Herman Americanized his name from Kahn to Cone. After a few years, he relocated to Jonesboro, Tennessee, where he opened a retail grocery store. He married Helen Guggenheimer, who, like he, was of German Jewish heritage. In 1870, Herman Cone moved his family to Baltimore, Maryland, where he opened a wholesale grocery. Moses (the eldest of thirteen children) began his career in his father's business. Moses and his brother Caesar worked as traveling salesmen for their father and eventually became partners in the business H. Cone and Sons. Traveling throughout the South for the family business, Moses and Caesar had developed strong ties with company stores in the region's numerous textile mills. Their knowledge and entrepreneurship inspired the brothers to start their own business, which sold textile products from smaller, independent southern mills to a broader market. They charged a 5 percent commission on these sales transactions. Expanding their textile business further, Moses and Caesar opened a cotton mill, which produced denim fabric. As their business grew, the brothers opened and purchased additional mills, eventually becoming the leading makers of high-quality denim, corduroy, and flannel. During Moses' lifetime, the brothers' mills produced one-third of the world's supply of denim fabric, earning Moses the nickname "Denim King."

Moses Cone married Bertha Lindau on February 15, 1888. Moses sought to build a country refuge where he and Bertha could relax from the stress of their business and reconnect with nature. Their economic success enabled the couple to purchase Flat Top Manor, a country estate located in the cool and healthful air of the mountains in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. Moses’ vision for the estate was influenced by his great regard for the natural landscape. Additional land that Moses acquired added nearly 3,600 acres to his estate. While other Guilded Age Industrialists were busy building French-style chateaus and homes reminiscent of European estates, Moses and Bertha modeled their home on the American past, building a 14,000 square foot home in the Beaux-Arts style. It may have been a conscious expression of the couple’s desire to distance themselves from their German-Jewish immigrant roots and be seen as “American.” Flat Top Manor was designed with 23 rooms, including 11 bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a billiard room, a music room, and a library. Shady porches, leaded glass windows, and 11 fireplaces graced the house. The house had all the modern amenities available in a rural location in America. This included telephones, a servants’ call system, indoor plumbing with cold and hot running water, a central wood-fired heating system, and a state-of-the-art carbide gas lighting system.

Electricity was run to the house in 1927, about 25 years after it was built. Recreational facilities outside the house included a bowling alley, tennis court, and formal croquet lawn. But the crown jewel of the estate was an extensive system of carriage roads that Moses and Bertha designed. These roads totaled 25 miles and were used for both the pleasure of the family and for maintaining the large estate. The Cones also built three lakes on their property, which were stocked with bass or trout. The largest was Bass Lake—which is the centerpiece of the beautiful view from the manor house. Moses Cone considered himself to be a gentleman farmer. He established agricultural enterprises on the estate in hopes that Flat Top Manor would eventually become financially self-sufficient. While many land barons kept their estates private, Moses Cone chose to open the grounds of Flat Top Manor to the local community—opening the gates at 8:00 AM each morning and closing them at 6:00 PM each evening. People were welcome to walk or ride horses on the carriage trails and explore his estate, though restrictions were placed on picking flowers or hunting on the property. The Moses Cone Estate now belongs to the National Park Service. The house and grounds are open to the public and, along with the Biltmore Estate, have become a view into the wealthy side of the Blue Ridge residents.

Scandinavians from Finland and Sweden had an impact on the culture of the Blue Ridge. They brought woodworking skills from Northern Europe, which gave rise to the log cabin prevalent in the area today.

The Scandinavian influence is especially evident in the Little Switzerland recreation area of the Parkway.

African Americans, both free and slave, have inhabited Appalachia for hundreds of years. There was an active Underground Railroad that ran through the Blue Ridge from Chattanooga to Pennsylvania. One African influence that persists today is the banjo, which is essential to mountain music and originated in Africa. Afro-Caribbean people introduced foods such as sorghum cane, sweet potatoes, black-eyed peas, watermelon, and peanuts to the Blue Ridge cuisine.

Many arts and crafts were born on necessity. Tools, bowls, and other instruments were carved from wood. Baskets were woven from straw, and the vibrant colors of quilts and coverlets were all derived from natural dyes and natural materials. Tableware, cooking, and storing vessels were made by potters. These necessities turned into art forms revered today.

Music and dance evolved into an art form indigenous to the region. Blue Grass music comes from a combination of cultural influences. There is the high, lonesome yearning of English and Scottish ballads, the up-tempo rhythms of Scottish and Irish fiddle music, the rhythmic syncopation of the African Banjo, and the minor key melody of the blues. Legendary acts like the Carter Family, Fiddlin' Doc Roberts, Dolly Parton and hundreds of others defined the sound of folk music that resonates stronger than ever today. today.

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The Blue Ridge Music Center at milepost 213 on the Blue Ridge Park celebrates the music and musicians of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Each spring, summer, and fall, it welcomes thousands of visitors to enjoy some of the region’s finest traditional music, including bluegrass, old-time, folk, Americana, country blues, and gospel.

"We invite you to clap along to bluegrass, old-time blues, and Americana concerts in our scenic amphitheater. Sit a spell and enjoy our live music, then go for a walk on one of our hiking trails."

When World War II began, approximately 170 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway were open to the public and another 160 miles were under construction. All construction ceased until the early 1950s.

The decade following World War II was a critical moment in the history of the National Park Service. The end of wartime restrictions and the automobile boom resulted in an unprecedented number of tourists visiting national parks. By 1940, about seventeen million Americans had visited NPS sites, and by 1955, that number had tripled. An ambitious program was enacted by the National Park Service and endorsed by President Eisenhower and his cabinet. They enthusiastically supported a project named Mission 66. Congress approved a budget of $700,000,000.

The allocation was distributed over ten years to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the NPS in1966.

MISSION 66’s operating philosophy was embodied in a new type of tourist facility, the visitor center. While similar in many respects to earlier public service buildings, the concept behind visitor centers was to welcome tourists traveling by car, and to assist them “as they shifted from the automotive realm to a strictly pedestrian environment, where they could conveniently find all services clustered together.”

The Blue Ridge Parkway was complete in 1966 with the exception of an approximately seven-mile section. This section of land belonged to Hugh Morton and is known as Grandfather Mountain.

Hugh Morton inherited the mountain from his grandfather, hence the name "Grandfather Mountain." Hugh Morton never considered himself its owner but rather its legal guardian, and he fiercely protected and preserved the land as a treasure for future generations to enjoy.

His first projects included constructing a road to the summit, a suspension bridge to Linville Peak, and a Mike High Swinging Bridge. Later, environmental habitats for native animals were added. Here, visitors can see black bears, cougars, bald eagles, river otters, and elk in their natural surroundings.

Hugh Morton was a renowned photographer, a dedicated conservationist, and an environmentalist. His photographs were published on many sites, including Time magazine. Hugh Morton took photographs of a bear cub found on Grandfather on iconic sites throughout North Carolina. The cub photographs were used to raise funds for the fledgling North Carolina Zoo. Hugh Morton was one of the few people who ever fought the federal government and won. When engineers wanted to build the Blue Ridge Parkway across Grandfather Mountain at 5,000 feet above sea level with a tunnel at the highest point, Morton forced a compromise that resulted in the building of the Linn Cove Viaduct.

The Linn Cove Viaduct hugs the face of Grandfather Mountain and is a marvelous feat of engineering and environmental protection. Completed in 1983 at a cost of almost $10 million, the Linn Cove Viaduct is 1,243 feet long and contains 153 segments weighing 50 tons each. The American Society of Civil Engineers designated it a National Civil Engineering Landmark. and is recognized internationally as an engineering marvel. Driving across is like being suspended in the air with awe-inspiring views.

“Come enjoy this beautiful Blue Ridge area for recreation and interesting knowledge.

Come and enjoy the tranquillity in the canyons where streams ripple over rocks and waterfalls.

Come, and feel the stimulation of the strong wind on some lofty peaks.

Do these things, and you will not be disappointed; you will carry away a memory of beautiful, interesting places and a little more strength, a little more wisdom, and a little more happiness than you brought with you."