THERE'S A SPECIFIC spot
AS I CRUISE up U.S. 421 that lets me know I'm nearly there. The road that ribbons through the foothills rises and twists like the tail of a cat. My car shifts into a lower gear, what my daddy would call "granny gear," to dig into the climb. As the elevation increases, the temperature drops about 5 degrees for every 1,000 feet. The sweeping skyline narrows and then gives way to the Blue Ridge Mountains-I'm almost home.
I grew up in Boone, North Carolina. Both sides of my family have lived in the high mountains and deep hollers of Watauga County for over 150 years. I moved away decades ago, but it will always be the homeplace that beckons and recalibrates me. When I visit my parents, I rarely venture beyond their serene backyard, where I'm content to hang out in a metal-framed lawn chair under the sprawling maples and listen to the creek burble. Not long ago, whenever anyone asked me what to see and do in Boone, I had to sheepishly confess that I didn't know. Their questions implied I was missing out, so I figured it was high time for me to reacquaint myself with my hometown, a place that I was once so familiar with but hardly knew at all anymore.
People have vacationed in Boone for decades, returning time and again due to what some call the "Boonerang Effect." Tourists come in droves to enjoy the scenery and embrace the four distinct seasons. I love taking in the fall color, playing in the snow, and marveling at the spring blooms, but nothing beats the summer. So I planned my vacation for when Boone's cooler temps feel like mercy from the shimmering heat that broils most of the South.
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