I can’t say exactly when the dream began, but I can say where. Throughout the 70’s, my family of 6 would all pile into our 1966 Ford Galaxy 500 and head west to a remote corner of North Carolina for our annual summer vacation. On the appointed morning, we would rise before the sun and load all manner of really rigid suitcases into the enormous trunk of the big black car. Some summers we would even pack the big green window fan that normally occupied a window in my parent’s bedroom. Back then there was no air conditioning in our home, and there was no air conditioning in the cabin where we would be staying.
After a long a winding journey that took us out of Raleigh by way of highway 70 west, through the foothills, right down the middle of the Cherokee Indian reservation, and then up a long and very curvy mountain road, we would arrive at Fontana Village Resort. Some years, we would arrive before dark, and I can remember the feeling of excitement seeing all of the families sitting on the front porches of the many cabins. Back in the 70s, cabins lined every street of the small village, and every cabin was full. Arriving at the check in was like coming home again.
The Fontana Village obsession began with my parents when they enjoyed their honeymoon in the resort in June 1960. Well, enjoy might be a little of an overstatement. They stayed in a small one-bedroom cabin on Shuckstack Road, and every night when the sun went down, the scratching in the walls began. Mice have always loved the cabins at Fontana, and I could tell lots of stories about how they have shown up throughout the years, but even the mice cannot ruin the beauty and the feeling of peace that I have found through the years in that remote village. This summer will mark 61 years of sometime sporadic, sometimes regular trips to Fontana for the Council family. What started as two people on a honeymoon is now those two plus their four kids with their spouses, ten grandkids, a couple of step-grandkids, some spouses of grandkids, special friends, grand-dogs, and one precious great-grandchild.
Looking back, it was in those early years that my dream started to take shape, even though I may not have realized it at the time. Throughout all of the changes in the world, summer trips to Fontana became a constant. A place where we could all just go and “be.”
I think that it really hit me about 5 years ago when leaving that special place each summer would leave me in tears. And when an opportunity presented itself for my husband George and me to go to Fontana, the dream really took hold. He and I both knew that we wanted to live in the mountains someday. We didn’t know how, and we weren’t sure where, but we wanted the beauty and peace of the mountains year-round.
