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Volume 33
This is an article on Yancey County by Mrs. Charles
Lyle of Celo. It appeared in the New York Times' May
25th issue. The Yancey Record would like to express
our appreciation to Mrs. Lyle for annotations on our coun
ty, and we are sure the whole County echoes our
It is a welcome change from the criticism we received
some months back in the Cosmopolitan magazine. Mri
Lyles' article should go a long way toward altering the
"Outsider's" opinion of the "Hillbilly".
URNSVILLE, N. C. ln Yancey County, North
Carolina, there is a mountain range named the
Black Mountains, but known locally as The Black.
B
And black it is! At times, it also is pink, white,
blue or maybe just not there at all! But, always, there
is somehow the black undertone, a somber, dull founda
tion to substantiate its name.
The Black Range is often referred to by visitors as
Mount Mitchell because that one peak, the highest land
point east of the Mississippi River, is so well known
by name. Lesser-known peaks of the Black Range are
Cllngman’s Peak (not to be confused with Clingman’s
Dome in the Smoky Mountains), Big Tom and Mount
Craig (earlier called The Black Brothers), Balsam Cone,
Cattail Peak, Potato Hill. Deer Foot Mountain, Winter
Star Mountain, Gibbs Mountain, Horse Rock and Celo
Knob. These, with lesser prominences, gaps between and
craggy ridges extending down both sides, make up this
mighty mountain range.
This magnificent panorama of lofty, craggy pinnacles,
ss seen from the Blue Ridge, where runs the parkway,
or from Seven Mile Ridge, our vantage point, is awe
inspiring indeed. To observe this magnificence in its
many moods daily, even hourly, is a great privilege.
Weather conditions govern its moods and the various
shadings that bathe the whole with glory but, always,
there H the undertone of basic black.
Folds of Mourning Crepe
The heavy growth of balsam and Frazier fir gave the
range its name. It is blacker still when storm clouds
gather and descend the sides like folds of mourning
crepe. This can be an eerie time, a time of apprehension
but beautiful nonetheless.
Then there is the velvety black of clear-cut silhouette
against a starry winter sky when the world is still, a
hushed and gentle time. It is in winter, too, that the
leafless deciduous trees stand out bristly black against
a background or freshly fallen snow, like a stubby
growth of beard on the pale face of a wrinkled old man.
This is not the case when a sudden drop in tempera
ture. together with moisture in the air, brings hoarfrost
to the trees. Rime—frozen fog—then clings to every
twig, and The Black is clear, dazzling white far down
its sides As the weather clears and grows colder, the
fog lifts until only «t great roll of white cloud hovers
along the full length oi' the top. :
This billowy fluff hangs there for hours as though j
loath to depart, then slowly dissipates. The air is crisp j
and the mountain sparkles with reflected sunlight from ’
this mantle of white. Now the mountain is a white- I
shawled lady with black skirt.
There are, too, the days when the fog does not lift,
nor does the day or night grow colder. It is then one j
lives in a solid gray world. The Black is hidden entirely i
and one wonders if the mountain is still there.
This grayness can last for days, to the point of
becoming depressing, and this, is the time for cozy,
homey activities. Wood is heaped on the smoldering
hearth knitting m brought out, sewing is done and even
a cake is popped into the oven without begrudging
the time taken to do so.
We miss Ihe Black. We miss the beauty of a distant
view. Finally, the desire for out-of-doors becomes too
strong. A walk in the woods of Seven Mile Ridge brings
the realization that lesser heights than The Black have
tlu ir charm, too.
A Ramble in the Fog
A ramhie in hyavv fog ,an he a delight. Sounds are
hushed, the world is close and quiet. Fallen leaves are
damp and soft underfoot, small creatures are surprised
at their busy work.
The Black is temporarily forgotten, and joy is had '
from the beauty of nearby forest. But finally the gray
ness leaves, and The Black again stands out in all, its
magnif.cence Again we can drink our fill of its splendid
beauty.
All the fogs that envelop The Black are not the heavy
winter types. Spring and summer bring their own
delightful kind Warm weather showers, or even quick
thunderstorms, usually are followed by light-gray fluffy
fog* that drift up from the warm earth tfnd float around :
like gay little clouds at play. They cross the intervening I
valley to Seven Mile R'dge. drfting in. drifting out, then i
ir and out a»;un. 'ik" a efu! danrer swirling her
firm* veil
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CAPRICIOUS Weather conditions govern the many moods of North Carolina’s B.S
Neither are all the rains that descend on The Black
the stormy types. There is the blue of slowly gathering
bad weather, when haze develops over a period of several
days. The haze is blue-gray, growing heavier and heavier,
gradually dimming the view of the black sides of the
mountain. Finally, the humps of the slopes are gone and
the rain descends in gray sheets.
There are many and varying types of storms, but the
mountain knows how to smile, too. There is the deep
blue of a light haze covering the entire range, seen as
the sun sets on a clear day. The last rays of the sun
cast a rosy glow just before if dips behind the peaks,
and one stands and wonders whether to say blue, rose
or purple.
Purple Wins
The purple wins, for the combination of blue haze and
rosy glow give a distinct purple overtone for several v
minutes. Slowly, the rose tone fades and* only a true
deep blue is seen. Then all daylight fades and the range
is a huge mass silhouetted against the darkening sky. w
On clear evenings, the light never leaves entirely. All
through the night, the massive mountain range stands
like a black-attired sentinel against the lighter sky.
Stars gleam overhead, then slowly drop, one by one,
behind the massive uplift of land as the earth turns
on its axis.
Now we realize how Winter Star Mountain acquued
its name. During early winter, the Dog Star. Sir us.
—— •
gleams above this peak in the early flours before day
break. It twinkles and glows until the pink of coming
day fades it from view.
Clear mornings often bring an' even brighter pink, as
the sun rises from behind the Blue Ridges, than the pink
that comes with its setting. As day breaks, light from
the rising sun casts a pink glow over the whole world
and the mountainside reflects the tint.
Clear in the Brightness
The sun climbs higher, the direct rays finally touch
the mountaintop and, as this clear light descends the
mountainside, every tree and rocky prominence stands
out clearly in the brightness. Sometimes it is so clear
you feel you have only to reach out to be able to touch
the mountainside.
Seven Mile Ridge lies between the Blue Ridge and
the Black Range, and when the sun rises from behind
the Blue Ridge on these dear mornings, the shadow of
Seven Mile Ridge is clearly outlined against the side of
the larger, higher Black. As the sun slowly climbs higher
in. the sky, this shadow descends the side of The Black
4 The somber black of this formidable range of moun
tains is present even when the green of creeping spring
lightens the mood. Beginning on the lower slopes, where
South Toe River meanders, the warmth of spring works
its way up the sides each week until the whole mountain
has a fan greenish cast. But the basic black is still
tb-rr aV* t s The mountain is well named
Numbar Thirty- Niaa