My first thoughts when I wake up each morning are remembering and calling out what I am grateful for.  Shortly thereafter, I’ve made coffee and head out for my walk, very often on the Cone carriage trails, part of the Blue Ridge Parkway, National Park Service, at mp 294.

The nature of Moses Cone’s character gives me — and you — the Cone trails.  So, at my first footstep on the Cone trails, I say hello to Mr. Cone and I thank him for his gift.  I’m grateful for him – a visionary, a person who made his dreams come true, a person who thought about and planned for the well-being of others. 

A marvelous person who created outstanding results, Moses Cone is the perfect beginning for this section of my blog.

Mr. Cone is a gigantic subject and I’ll divide his story into quite a few sections.  I’m going to start at a twist in the road.

Which road? You park at the Manor house parking area and set off hiking toward the Cone grave, pass the open fields in front of the grave, and head into the woods leading up toward the Fire Tower.

Thick Appalachian hardwoods drape each side of the trail.  This time of year, the forest canopy is fully green above, concealing the sky.  Rhodos fill any space between the forest floor and the first tree branches.  You walk along one length of the trail to a curve that takes you up to another, and another, becoming lost in a hazy undefined dream of space hemmed in by the forest, pausing here and there when brilliant spots of wildflower color draw your eye.  In early morning, you hear birdsongs though it takes a trained eye and binoculars to see the birds well. You climb some more, more curves in the trail, slowing losing track somewhat of time and orientation.  Then, the trail makes a very sharp switchback to your right.  And then…

First, let me take you back in time. If you were one of Mr. Cone’s guests, his preferred method of taking you around the estate was in a carriage drawn by fast-trotting horses.  He covered his trails with an exceedingly fine crush of gravel, raked even.  The result was a smooth ride in the carriage, a contented lulling of trot and gentle rocking that might induce such a restful state that your thoughts drift from the here and now.  Don’t we do the same today – put restless babies in their car seats and drive down gravel roads to quiet them into sleep?

Drifting from the here and now of the Appalachian environment was NOT Mr. Cone’s intention.  He came to our mountains in the late 1800’s as others did then, and as many do now, to get away from the rushed hustle-bustle of the commercial life and from the fumes and congestion of cities.  He came to the mountains to restore his spirit.  Some might write ‘soul.’ The quiet and peace, the clean air, the slow pace, the cool summers, restored him.  He treasured the trees and native wildflowers, the glorious vistas.
Never content to create value solely for himself, Mr. Cone desired that others should experience these marvels, to become restored, as did he.  So he set about creating an estate with the same foresight and determination that enabled his success with Cone Mills [a future subject].  It was part of his plan that he and his wife Bertha and their families and friends would enjoy his estate but he had in mind that the estate would one day be a “public pleasuring ground.”  He looked to the future, to what we now call, and what it now is, a “park.”

He was thinking of us.  Of today.  Of you and me.

How do we know this?  From more than one source, but for now I want to get back to the twist in the road.

Once Mr. Cone acquired the land for the estate, he set about laying out the carriage trails.  He utilized some extant farm roads.  The existing roads, however, were not sufficient to fulfill his vision.  To create the others, he tramped through the steep woods, a retinue of his workers following behind carrying wooden stakes.  Where he wanted his trails to go, he directed the workers to plant the stakes.  [An aside I can’t resist:  in the movie Mr. Johnson, Nigeria 1923, a British engineer creates roads assisted by his African employee, Mr. Johnson, who follows behind him, carrying armfuls of wooden stakes, planting them where the engineer directs. This seems to have been the technology of the times. It’s a great movie, by the way.]

Mr. Cone’s vision for the trails was to lay them out so that his guests – we park visitors today — would become aware of, would experience, would draw into our hearts and so be restored, the wonder of the Southern Appalachian environment.  Mr. Cone plotted routes by what he wanted people to see.  To open our eyes and force us to see, he created twists in the trails.  He awoke his guests from quiet wandering thoughts induced by the trotting lull because the horses must slow down to maneuver the extremely sharp switchbacks.  Like our babies in car seats who tend to wake up when the car engine stops, the guests would awake and see a new reality: a lovely so-pale-pink-it’s-white rosebay rhodo blooming in June, an uplifted, uplifting mountain range, red rays of sunset behind Grandfather, a sunrise over the eastern escarpment.

At our twist in the road on the way to the Fire Tower, we notice low stone walls where there were none, underlining to emphasize a change. 

Suddenly, dramatically, we’ve left the green forest enveloping veil

to find ourselves at a huge open vista, big sky wide above, big sky wide ahead and big sky wide to the left and big sky wide to the right, looking out forever to the east, over and past Blowing Rock, out to the endless beginning of sunrise.  A point to stop, to pause, to go inside oneself, to be filled with the grandeur of creation.
 

The vista, a most lovely spot to catch a sunrise:

Whenever you are walking [or horseback riding] the Cone trails and come to a sharp switchback, pause, look around, and try to figure out what Mr. Cone wanted you to see.  It will enrich your life.

A hint:  today when you go looking for what Mr. Cone wanted us to see, you may be looking through leaves and young trees not there around 1900 when he was building the estate.  The forest, untethered by the NPS, is trying to create its climax state and so is growing up.  Look for the older trees and try to see beyond what’s new.  It’s a bit easier in winter.

Thanks to you, Mr. Cone, for your vision and for the carriage trails that so enrich our lives today; to Gene Redmon, formerly District Ranger, for many insights into Mr. Cone and his trails; and to Ian Firth, author, Moses H. Cone Memorial Park, A Cultural Landscape Report, for enabling me and the National Park Service to comprehend the greatest importance of Mr. Cone’s estate.

May, 2008

Adapted from LR, an unpublished manuscript by Helen Phillips, copyright 2008
 Mr. Cone’s design for this switchback:

Local Area Homes Sales, Watauga Market, June 2005 through May 2006
 

Local Area Home Sales, Watauga Market, June 2006 through May 2007
 

Local Area Home Sales, Watauga Market, June 2007 through May 2008