The Yellow Brick Road

I saw on the news recently that The Land of Oz, an old 70’s amusement park located in the Mountains of NC was going to open some during the day this summer. It really took me back…I have a little history with this old place.

I have been thinking about my childhood a lot. Elizabeth and I took a quick ride up to the mountains the other week and this was one of the topics we discussed. ‘Why does the past come back often and how it is that it always gets played out to be the ‘good ole days’? We think it is ‘bleed- through’… what does that mean? The older we get, the more attuned we are to ‘who we are’ and ‘how we got here’. Almost like a marker from the past to help forward.

But hearing this news about the park really took me back.  

It was Thanksgiving 1983/84, somewhere in that time frame. I was 18 or so and knew NOTHING about life. 🙂 That time of year there is nothing going on because Beech Mountain is a major ski resort for NC. No snow, no people. (At least back then). However, the temps were down and it was chilly. The little Swiss looking resort had a ice rink in the middle between buildings. My family went to spend time with aunts and uncles who had a place in one of the time-shares. It wasn’t a ‘kid’ trip.

No rides,

No beach,

No… nothing!

It seemed to me the goal of the trip was to literally watch every football from sunup to sundown… and fill it all with adult talk.

NOT FOR ME! So I walked.

I didn’t know really where I was going but I would walk the mountains and explore. It was cool, and a little creepy because I would walk my way up to the ski lifts, which were totally abandoned like an old ghost town… the souls were still around, but the physicality was missing. It felt as if I were being watched all of the time, but I was totally alone. Standing atop of these majestic peaks was actually a wonderful experience. I loved exploring and had the body for it back in the day. No excess weight and a strong back.

During my daily jaunts I would walk to the ski village. One day, I saw from a distance, what I thought was an angel on the ice rink. She was the most graceful girl I had ever seen up to that time in my life. She had a pink top, scarf, white pants and pink leggings scrunched up around her calves as she pirouetted over ice. I was young and instantly fell in love. That day’s walk left me hiding behind the treeline watching her. I was way too shy to walk up and talk. But I have never forgotten that feeling. It was that kind of spark that I found when I met Elizabeth that blossomed into true love.

But the next day she was gone like a vapor. So I walked… back up the ski slopes covered in thick grass. There were small patches of snow from an early storm but most of it had melted away except for places in the extreme shade. There was a fog/mist hanging around which made it even more mysterious . I decided on this day to deviate and not just go to the top but go left into the tree line off the slopes. I worked my way through the thick woods for a good 15 minutes. The mist hung heavy in the air and it put a shroud around everything. The woods were buried themselves in the moisture which lent them a veil of thickness and vapor insulation. I don’t know how to put it in words, but there is something magical and mysterious about exploration. It is one of the many things I love about flying. However, it gets jacked up 10 times when there is a misty fog around as you enter into the woods.  As I preceded, the thickness got heavier and I couldn’t see any more than 20 feet up ahead. Then out of the gloom appeared, what looked like a large face up above me.

I had a internal freak out and did the rabbit thing… no not run… FROZE in place. I couldn’t make out through the mist, what I was looking at. I also had that ‘sorta paranoid’ thing going on that we all get, or should get,

• When alone,
• In the woods,
• On a mountain,
• Covered in mist,
• Not sure where you are
• With a big face staring at you

…Understand? 🙂

I stood there trying to grasp what Native American burial site I had come upon and how they were going to jump out and ‘get me’ or ‘curse me’ for stepping on Grandmother’s grave that hadn’t been discovered for 150 years. Yea, my mind was working over time in the crazy gear! Being the incredibly brave individual that I am, (yea right) I crept forward to see if ‘said’ face was going to move or what. Is’t it odd how curiosity at times can ‘talk you into things’ that you would NEVER do when there is a after-thought about it? Yes, if it had moved I would have been the first man (Child) to fly without wings because I would have cut a swath ‘deep and wide’ as I broke the sound barrier tearing through those trees screaming for my mother.

However the face didn’t move and as I got closer I could see it was something added onto the tree. I looked down and could make out what appeared to be ‘yellow bricks’. I was thinking, what in the world is this when it hit me… THE LAND OF OZ.

Now as an 18 year old this was taking me back because this place hadn’t been open for a long time. With trees hanging down, the Yellow Brick Road was cluttered with leaves from many a season back. Beech, maple and oak leaves covered everything and it all had a texture of moisture about it due to the mist. The strong odor of decay permeated the air and everything was still as a graveyard. I decided to explore more and walked as quietly as I could, so as not to disturb the ‘Native American burial site’ any further.

I followed the path for a good while. The bricks were uneven from the years of mountain tree roots growing under them. Nature was taking back over and pushing aside anything man made. The natural order was replacing man’s order, a year at a time. I found myself, literally walking ‘the Yellow Brick Road’ alone, in the mountains surrounded by mist seeing something that hadn’t been seen for years. As I worked my way ‘up’ further I stopped and turned around to see the ‘peak’ of something sticking up over the tree line.

I walked back down to find the ‘witch’s castle’…which, no pun intended, I decided to avoid. The peak of it sticking through the forest was intimidating enough but the mist and ‘feel’ of everything just made me think someone or ‘something’ was watching me from the dark openings. The shroud of wet mist was enough for me to keep right on walking!

To my shock and surprise what I had stumbled into was a treasure of a time gone by for North Carolina. Built in late 60’s the park, The land of Oz, opened in 1970. On it’s opening day, 20,000 people visited the park. For North Carolina, it was a major hit. However, that ‘hit’ had finally struck out and was now long forgotten. Time and people had moved on to something more interesting. Everything had a ‘feel’ of despair and much repair was needed. Parts of the park had been removed or burned. Bricks were missing in places and it was clear that gloom had replaced the magic. I don’t remember how long I spent exploring and I wasn’t sure how to get back, I finally decided to just go the way I had come in and hopefully find my way out. When I made my way back down to the ‘Face with a tree’, I cut to the left and headed back into the dense woods. I will admit there was a level of relief when the trees thinned and I found myself on the grassy ski slope walking back down to the little village.

Though I finally understood where I had been, it felt as if it was truly a place time had forgotten.

When I saw the park was reopened and people are walking down the Yellow Brick Road again, it brought a little sadness and joy. The quiet is gone, the solitude and mystery are erased, but the old park lives again.

Is our childhood really like this? Something we look back on and wish for the moment again?  If so, what ‘is’ that moment we are missing or looking for? Or… as we age, is that mystery and feeling in the ‘moment’ something we are destined for and it’s calling us forward, by having us look back?

Peace on your Journey this week