On Saturday, October 7, 2023, we left our campground in Fancy Gap, VA heading south on the Blue Ridge Parkway through the Appalachian Mountains destined for Stone Mountain State Park just across the state line in North Carolina. We anticipated an approximate 45-minute drive followed by some fun hiking. We noted the expansive vista at Piedmont Overlook and commented on the numerous residences and rolling hills of perfectly aligned rows of very green bushes. Only later did we surmise that they were Christmas trees! We questioned the origins of flawless green meadows, aka balds, along the ridgeline some dotted with brown rolls of hay. Were the balds natural or had they been cleared? Perhaps a combination of both. 

These sights were different from our earlier drives along the southern parkway near Asheville, NC where there were no residences in sight nor open meadows as we drove through densely forested slopes rising high on one side and plunging steeply on the other. 

We were making good progress, and all was going well until we saw the sign, “Road Closed Ahead,” an ample warning for the upcoming barricade and huge “Detour” sign both decked out in bold highway orange. We followed the detour signs even as we sensed they were taking us back north instead of our intended south. Initially, the signs were clearly marked “Blue Ridge Detour South.” We entered a small town and passed a sign that simply read “Detour.” We began to doubt that decision, turned around and followed the sign driving into a residential area which seemed odd for a highway detour.

Shortly, we saw one of those portable, flashing, marque highway signs declaring “Blue Ridge Detour, No Thru Traffic” which seemed contrary to the nature of a detour. We passed it, doubted our decision because I had  seen an orange sign just beyond the directed turn. We turned around, made the right as indicated and within a block saw the orange sign detouring us back to the left. At that point we encountered an open gate – “Detour” sign on one side, “Local Use Only” on the other — and drove into a pumpkin patch. Hummm??

The road through the huge pumpkin field appeared to be relatively new white shale and gravel. We surmised that the highway department must have made this improvement for the detour as the other roads weaving through the pumpkin path were rutted dirt. We also saw a gray car moving ahead and below us through the terraced pumpkins which buoyed our optimism that we were on the right road. We were in awe of the pumpkin patch. As far as we could see were green vines dotted with various sizes of orange and occasionally green pumpkins. I must confess that I secretly desired to stop and pick a pumpkin but ultimately decided that would not be a wise thing to do. Ominously, the road narrowed, and we met the gray car coming back out. Not a good sign!! Momentarily, we too encountered the machinery and barricade, “Road Closed.” 

Back we went through the pumpkins to the flashing detour sign to discover that it read, “Blue Ridge Detour Ahead.” Sure enough, a couple of miles farther was yet another detour sign, again not indicating “Blue Ridge,” that took us down a winding country road. The next sign of note was “Pavement Ends Ahead” which indeed it did, leaving us driving on a narrow gravel road at times passing through trees just wide enough for the car and boasting a steep drop off to the left and a densely forested mountain side to the right. Just a bit spooky!

Already weary of the detours and the doubting, I had entered Stone Mountain into our GPS. We reached an intersection with a paved road where the GPS indicated a right turn. In the middle of the intersection turning around was the little gray car of the pumpkin patch. A barricade blocked the right turn! We spoke to the car’s lone occupant, and she, like us, was baffled and frustrated. Her comment, “Would you believe I just drove through a pumpkin patch.” We all chuckled as we shared that we had done the same. She was from Belgium and was trying to get to Asheville. The country roads and directions were foreign and confusing to us, we could only imagine her experience of them. We wished her well as she decided to turn around and go back. We chose to turn left and let the GPS recalculate a route to Stone Mountain. 

A 45-minute drive became two hours. Ultimately, Stone Mountain was well worth the extended trip. Stone Mountain itself was majestic and naturally beautiful. Unmarred by any elaborate carvings as seen on the perhaps better known Stone Mountain outside of Atlanta, GA. The hiking trails offered solace and some solitude. The water music, tumbling and gurgling over the creek bed rocks or gushing as it rushed over the various falls at heights of two to twelve to 200 feet, was soothing and calming in its sparkling clarity and consistency. A special delight was hearing the trees sing as they swayed and hummed in the wind. All thoughts of the detours and doubts vanished under the serene canopy of the forest.

Stone Mountain Falls Trail. Stone Mountain Falls. Widow Creek Falls.