Longmire: Nantahala (Land of the Noon Day Sun)
It was Henry Standing Bear that had come up with the idea. His friend Mary Red Wolf had entered into a bicycle ride known as The Assault on Mt. Mitchell. I had no idea why anyone would want to peddle bike 102 miles from Spartanburg, South Carolina to the top of Mount Mitchell, North Carolina. Especially since eleven thousand feet of the 102.7 mile ride was uphill... Yup. Uphill, one way. Boy Howdy! I'd looked at pictures of the wrinkled landscape of what was called the Upstate part of South Carolina, and the aggregate Piedmont or Foothills of that part of the Carolinas was proof positive of the old saw about walking to and from school, in the snow, uphill both ways was actually true. Even if the ride was self-paced, I had no idea why anyone would want do that. And there were some crazy people that started even further back. And available information said that the leaders usually did it in six hours, and most finished in 12 hours or so. I shook my head again, or at least mentally. Crazy!
I'd looked up the starting point, that place Spartanburg. The city had a population of thirty-seven thousad just on its own. The county, which was tiny compared to Abasaroka had a total population of nearly one-hundred thirty-one thousand. I had no idea how the Sheriff kept rein on all of that. The sad fact was that when the Cheyenne Nation told me about the race, and wanting to go see Mary Red Wolf do her thing, I knew the city. More than once, that what should be insignificant city had been in the national news. The latest was because of a serial killer. And yet, this was the starting point for the race Henry had dragged us here to witness.
Usually I'd ride shotgun, but I enjoyed being in the back seat with Vic. We'd spent a lot of time in the back seat of Henry's '59 Baltic Blue Thunderbird convertible. Henry was usually in front with his on again, off again girlfriend Deana Many-Camps. Right now they were on again… again. He wouldn't let me drive it after that time in Philadelphia. I didn't understand why. The bullet holes and the dent where ... well never mind all of that, Lola was good as new, but the Cheyenne Nation had engaged stubborn gear and Deana and Vic were the only people he'd let spell him.
We'd just reached the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina. We had entered the Nantahala National Forest. Deana rested her head on Henry's shoulder as we drove deeper into the National Forest.
It was different from the mountains of Wyoming. First off, they weren't as high as my mountains, yet… they were imposing. Not in height, but in how close they were. Any one who lived here and had claustrophobia would go crazy on second one!
We'd entered the Nantahala Gorge just before noon. Henry had told me Nantahala was a Cherokee word for "Land of the Noon Day Sun" and riding along the Nantahala River, I understood why. No, the mountains weren't imposing. Nor were they particularly tall. But they were close. Looking up though… they closed in. I wondered deep in my mind what would have happened if the Cherokee had the same weapons as the people who wanted to take their lands. The mountains were rounded, old. The People who'd been here thousands of years before knew their land. If they had muskets instead of being armed with bows and reed arrows?
My mind wandered back to Viet Nam and being "in country". They'd known their terrain. Fought hard to keep the things and ideals they loved. Ultimately, we'd had to withdraw. What if The Cherokee had the same weapons? I wouldn't want to fight them here if they had machine guns and grenade launchers.
The road into the Nantahala Gorge led along the river of the same name. The deeper we got, the closer the mountains got as if to hem us in.
We'd reached a sharp turn to the left. Off to the side there was a picnic area and Henry pulled Lola into the parking lot.
He got out of the car and opened the door for his on-again lover then offered his hand to my deputy, partner, sole reason for living. As he helped her out of the car, I took a deep breath. It was so different from the high plains. It was full of moisture and the smell of the evergreens and decaying leaf matter from last year's fall filled my nostrils.
Vic was hugging herself. I could tell that something was on her mind but I wasn't sure what it was. Deana had her arms raised, reaching for the rays of the noon day sun. Henry was looking around. I could tell he was looking for the possible ambush sites… 'Nam hadn't left me, just like it'd never left me.
"They're judging us.", Vic stated. I looked at her wondering what she meant.
"Yes." Henry replied. Deana looked back at me. I shrugged, she shrugged.
"These mountains are old." Henry said. I understood what he meant. Vic had coerced me into the electronic age. I'd looked up several things along this journey. One of the things I'd found was that the Gneiss, pronounced NICE, that formed the bedrock of these mountains was two hundred and fifty million years old… at a minimum. They could be fifty-plus millions of years older.
I looked around, took a deep breath of the spring air here, looked again at the mountains, and I understood what Vic meant.
These mountains were OLD. They'd seen a lot. But for them, Men were just the latest in a long series of "here today, gone tomorrow". They were old, weathered. Their peaks and ridges were soft and round, unlike my Wyoming mountains. But… this place, here in the Land of the Noon Day Sun had a weight that my home range didn't. They had fought time. They'd been through the lives and deaths of the dinosaurs. They'd been here when the first American's had crossed the Bering Strait. They'd been here when the first Clovis Point was being fashioned to kill a wooly mammoth.
I looked at Henry and his on-again gal Deana. Their eyes were open, mesmerized. I knew they were thinking about how different this was from the Rez.
I turned my head to look at Vic. She had her eyes closed, face uplifted to where the Sun would soon appear. She was big city Philly. The rest of us were high plains Wyoming, yet… in this place… we all felt SOMETHING. For me, it was the age of the world. I'm pretty sure for Henry, and probably Deana, it was the fact that the few Cherokee who'd escaped The Trail of Tears had managed to buy back their land. For Vic, it was being back in the East. Moisture in the air, the smell of evergreens and flowers in May. I stretched out my hand and found hers waiting for mine. I turned to her, not feeling so old any more. I wrapped my arms around her and held her as we stared at the mountains.
Yes, they were judging us, but not as people, but as life that had come and may be gone. They'd seen the thunder lizards, and would probably see whatever came after us. Yes, they'd be more worn down by then, but then who isn't worn down with age. I held Vic and enjoyed NOW. It wasn't even an eyeblink to these mountains, and in my head, I heard people from thousands of years ago singing in a language I didn't understand. But I knew what the message was, deep in my heart. We are here for a blink. But what we do does matter. I looked up and found Henry staring into my eyes. He gave a subtle nod which I returned. Vic turned her head a bit to look at the river and whispered "I love you, you old bastard."
I replied "Uh huh."