This must be the place: 'Don't it make you feel bad, when you're tryin' to find your way home'
(Editor’s Note: Amid the chaos of the recent floods from Hurricane Helene, this column wasn’t able to run in the Oct. 2 issue of The Smoky Mountain News due to space issues in the midst of crisis.)
Hello from Room 13 at the Seabirds Motel in Kure Beach, North Carolina. Saturday morning.
This must be the place: The long road home
Putting the truck into park, my girlfriend, Sarah, and I finally returned to our quaint apartment in downtown Waynesville Monday evening. After a long journey from the North Carolina coast back to Haywood County this weekend, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions.
This must be the place: 'Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, he sounds too blue to fly'
Hello from Room 510 at the Delta Hotel. The nonstop hustle and bustle of Interstate 81 just outside the window in Bristol, Virginia. For the last few days, I’ve been up here covering the Bristol Rhythm & Roots Reunion, one of the largest and most beloved festivals within Americana, bluegrass and country music circles.
This must be the place: ‘Could have been the Willie Nelson, could have been the wine’
Hello from Room 12106 at the Fairmont Royal York in the heart of downtown Toronto, Ontario. For late summer above the Canadian Border, it’s quite warm and pleasant on this Thursday morning. Bright sunshine peeking through the window drapes of this luxury hotel in the midst of the hustle and bustle of Canada’s largest city.
This must be the place: ‘There’s an eagle and he keeps on flying, over the mountains capped in white snow’
Hello from Cabin 156 at Tryon International, the massive equestrian center and event facility along U.S. 74, just down the mountain from Saluda. The mountains in the distance remind me of the beauty of my home that is Western North Carolina.
This must be the place: 'It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet'
Hello from Room 204 at The Pendry hotel in the Canyons Village of the Park City Mountain Resort in Utah. After a weekend of mostly sunny skies and lush high desert mountains surrounding this bucolic property, it’s currently 65 degrees with a vicious thunderstorm on this otherwise lazy Sunday evening.
This must be the place: ‘We were feeling very fine, the air was clear and slightly damp’
Hello from the passenger seat of my Toyota Tacoma. Seeing as my deadline for this week’s column was nearing midnight on Sunday, I decided to pull over at the nearest exit and let my girlfriend, Sarah, take over driving duties. Pop open the laptop and off we go, eh?
Reminders of humanity in Mexico
One of the greatest advantages of traveling the world is being reminded how similar we all are, regardless of culture, race, language or religion.
‘We ride these waters dark and dusty, so ride my people ride’
Hello from Room 26 at the Thunderbird Lodge within earshot of Interstate 90 on the outskirts of the small city of Mitchell, South Dakota. Most notably the hometown of the late politician George McGovern, the 1972 Democratic nominee for president.
This must be the place: ‘Lost man singing for his soul, I saw it on Rio Bravo’
Hello from Room 205 of the Dude Rancher Lodge on North 29th Street in the heart of Billings, Montana. It’s 10:29 a.m. Already 82 degrees with a hot sun. Expected to top out ‘round 100 degrees when all is said and done on this Wednesday.
