Appalachian State University - Rhododendron Yearbook (Boone, NC)

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On The HIGH COUNTRY Road WITH WALLY BAINE My destination was clear, but my assignment was ambiguous. As an aspir- ing yet humble journalist, I was to be sent packing from the warm confines of my Manhatten apartment to the rugged wilderness of America as part of a project to assess the state of the American university circa 1984. The word came that I was to go on a 6 month sabbatical to Appalachian State University in Boone, North Carolina, enroll as a transfer student and re- port back on my findings in the sum- mer. At first, I was mortified. My experience with the South was limited and my experience with mountainous terrain nonexistent. North Carolina may as well have been Mars, but with the dedication of a young reporter and the fear of raising the ire of my editor, I dove into the Boone exper- ience feet first. Research on my new alma mater and the surrounding area yielded some intriguing facts. Boone is the former home of the world ' s largest windmill. It was funded by the government space program, and I thought that if those folks could chase NASA out, of town, they might eat me for lunch. The road trip down on that cold January day was uneventful, and when I finally reached US 421 to Boone, I half expected the road to turn to dirt and be forced to make the last few miles by pack mule. But, lo and behold, I soon found myself staring at the Last Stop for Beverages and the Watauga County line. I pulled into the mountain package store feeling like ' John Boy ' on a trip to Charlottesville. The region, I found out, was dry - which simply meant no booze - the purchase of, that is, not the consumption of. The near- est wet town was 8 miles away, in something called The Blowing Rock . But the old proprietor of the store told me that prohibition in Watauga County would soon be coming to an end. These cocaine cowboys and jet-set skiers are buying condos up here left and right, he said bitterly. They ' ll see it Boone gets booze. Too much money for them fellas to ignore. After the alcohol talk was ex- hausted, he suggested some scenic

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On The HIGH COUNTRY Road sites of the mountains, and I, with map in hand, set off. The Blue Ridge can tease you into a Httle amateur exploring, but just as easily, it can turn a cold shoulder on you at the drop of a snow fall. Schizophrenic terrain and weather to be sure, but nevertheless, a boy scout ' s heaven. A little way up the road, I pulled off and went for a hike. I soon found myself stumbling through the dead grass of a hillside like some demented Julie Andrews in a perverse production of The Sound of Music . When I fi- nally got back to my car, I was ill. Blood ran through my body like hot paint thinner. And by the time I reached Boone, I began to un- derstand why alcohol is forbidden here. Beer and mountain climbing is a bad marriage. I rolled into Boone like a greased fireball expecting to find a pocket of cultural stagnation in the wasteland of the rural South. Instead, I found a curiously two-faced town. Half of Boone resembled a convention for gluttonous fast food maniacs, while the other side contained a sleepy charm with its small town facades and lean-times student atmosphere. This was the Boone I wanted to find. Predictably, the police station, the court house, and the small town news- paper were to be found on the same block. The ancient street-like busi- nesses stood stoically on King Street in silent battle with the modern con- dos and apartment buildings springing up here and there. The faces I saw that day on the streets were serene and regal, resembling big fish in a small pond. But dotted among the bar- ons of King Street were students in various guises of day-to-day exis- tence. A majority of them seemed more unorthodox in dress and manner than other students around the country. They walked with a cool serenity as if traipsing through their own far-away back yards. I ducked into a hip-looking deli at the corner of King and Depot hoping to catch Boone ' s creatures in their nat- ural surroundings. I knew I had hit paydirt as soon as I walked in. All the hairy Boone sophisticates were gathered there discussing the issues of the day over a meal of tofu and herbal