My strange relationship with Boone

The small skiing town of Boone, North Carolina is a haven for adventurers. And we have a history together — a strange, deep-seated backstory that ultimately shifted the course of my life.  

In a short period of time during my early-twenties, I moved to Boone with a gangly pack of snowboarders, then proceeded to shatter my femur at Hawks Nest Mountain. I kissed my future wife for the first time while laid up in a hospital bed drugged up on morphine. 

So when I returned this past spring, 23 years later, I embraced the town I had once called home. Most of the bars I remember on King Street are now hipster apparel stores, sandwich shops or trendier, newer bars. It dawns on me that most of the kids in Boone—students at Appalachian State—weren’t even born yet when I last chugged a beer on that street. I felt old. Really old.

But there's an energy here that remains unchanged, as if bequeathed from one generation to the next, and it's alive and well in the familiar, unseen vibration that flows through its valleys and mountains. It’s embedded in the winding roads that bring a tiny grin to your face, the air that fills your lungs. Yes, the little things remain the same. 

We venture up to Grandfather Mountain at a time when spring is slowly awakening from its slumber. It's a quiet time of year. The summer tourist season is still months away and the last of winter’s snow melted weeks ago. It couldn’t be any more perfect.  

This isn't a long visit by any stretch, just a quick getaway with my wife and some friends. We’re staying at The Inn at Crestwood, located east of downtown across the ridge from Ski Mountain.

It’s a rustic resort with sweeping views of the surrounding mountains and woodlands. By sheer coincidence, we're here during the Banff Film Festival—a decades-long tradition in Boone—and it's being hosted at our resort. 

What can I say, sometimes the travel gods smile on you. 

The Banff party rages through the early evening and eventually dies down around eleven o’clock and the place returns to normal. I happen to like normal, but it often eludes me, so I take every opportunity to enjoy it when it comes.

We eat a meal that impresses, then hang out by the fireplace just off the bar area and sip cocktails. The Blue Ridge Mountains stand as a backdrop to Crestwood and the grounds are peppered with tall pines and walking paths and manicured landscapes.

Whatever Boone lacks in romance and 5-star experiences, it makes up with in character and adventure. Depending on where you venture, it can either be the quietest place on Earth or a fast-paced college town buzzing with inspiration and good vibes. 

I was just happy to escape in one piece this time.