A couple of weekends ago, I had some friends from Pennsylvania visiting, and I was excited to take them to my beloved Iron and Oak for a BBQ lunch on Saturday. Since we were going on a 1:30 PM LaZoom Fender Bender tour, I wanted to arrive right at noon, to give enough time to eat, have a drink, grab a Lyft from Riverside Rhapsody to LaZoom, and not have to rush. On our way there, I thought to myself that I might’ve inadvertently made us rush getting ready that morning since there’s never a line at Iron and Oak, especially this early.
That might’ve been true once upon a time. It’s not anymore.
We arrived at Riverside Rhapsody 1 minute behind schedule—1:01, courtesy of a Lyft driver more interested in conversing than listening to his Google Map—and I was shocked to find a line of at least 30 people that stretched from the BBQ ordering area down to the brewery’s front door. While my friends waited in line and perused the menu—I already knew I’d be getting the brisket queso (guac on the side), pulled pork sandwich (pickles on the side), and a side of dill-mac salad—I went inside to get us a round of drinks. I asked the bartender if there was a special event going on.
“No,” he told me. “This line’s like that for a while now.”
I tried not to get annoyed at all the people in line ahead of me, but couldn’t help feeling a little…entitled. My friends and I had discovered Riverside Rhapsody years ago and have been coming to Iron and Oak since they were a much smaller operation, one that we hoped would survive both the pandemic and the Helene-related closures. For years it’s been something of our off-the-beaten-path-secret, even to Asheville locals, and I have always to remind myself that this exposure and business is good for Iron and Oak, which like many small businesses, started as a passion project, especially in the current Asheville climate where small businesses are closing their doors left and right because of Helene-related tourism declines. Lines mean that Iron and Oak will stick around, and I’ll be guaranteed a steady influx of briskey queso and dill-mac salad for the foreseeable future. I’ve reminded myself that when some of my friends try to gatekeep our favorite BBQ spot, I always chide them, saying that as fans of the business, we should want them to succeed.
I had a similar conversation with a friend post 4th of July. I was telling them how myself and some other friends went up to Hot Springs to start our festivities at Big Pillow Brewing—which is becoming something of an annual pilgrimage— and they bemoaned how crowded Hot Springs has been lately. “I kind of hate that people are finding out about it,” they said, and I pointed out that Hot Springs is still very much feeling the effects of the storm—there are QR-code posters asking for funds for the town on almost every light pole—and though the crowds might be slightly inconvenient for us, it’s a net positive for Hot Springs and the businesses we like patronizing.
If I’m sounding a little holier than thou, I can cop to that. Maybe it’s just my somewhat (very?) contrarian nature, but I get annoyed when Ashevillians gatekeep businesses and places from the dreaded tourists or new folks, maybe because not that long ago I was one of those new folks, and perhaps because I’ve not been here long enough to get terribly jaded and realize that the city needs those tourists to survive.
That said, there’s somewhere I’ve decided I’d like to gatekeep—not that I think it’s ripe for overcrowding per se—which is my very favorite WNC waterfall to hike and relax at.
My favorite waterfall is located adjacent to the Shining Rock Wilderness, which alone makes it somewhat safe from most people, located at an undisclosed point off of one of the two trails that make up my favorite WNC hike. As far as I’m aware, the waterfall is unnamed, and to be honest, I’m not sure if it’s technically considered one long, meandering waterfall or a series of waterfalls and pools that I’m fairly certain eventually finds their way to Lake Logan.
While parts of the waterfall are visible from the trail I hike near it, you do have to climb down a bit to actually find yourself right on or near the water and really appreciate the breadth and beauty of it, and to find my favorite rock to post up on for a couple of hours with a lunch, some music, and ideally a book or magazine, one has to carefully pick their way down the side of the waterfall, and do a couple of water crossings. It’s not entirely hidden as I’ve run into other people at the top of the falls where you climb down the initial side trail, but I’ve never run into anyone at my favorite rock, and in fact, even if people are further up, to my knowledge, you’re still not visible.
The reason I’m deciding to gatekeep this particular little slice of WNC paradise is because, despite being way off the beaten path, the trek down is a little treacherous. You have to be careful. You have to have the proper footwear. You could easily fall and hurt yourself, and what I’d hate to happen is for it to go the route of somewhere like Catawba Falls, where so many people fall and injure and or kill themselves (inadvertently, obviously), that a boardwalk and massive staircase are erected. I don’t think that’s going to happen, but still, I can’t chance it, especially because it survived the flood perfectly.
On the aforementioned 4th of July, after frolicking in Marshall and Hot Springs, my friends and I were trying to figure out where in town we wanted to end our day. We’d had such a nice time on lively little outposts on the river that we decided we wanted that theme to continue. Unfortunately, the only two in-Asheville venues that fit those requirements were the Getaway and Zillicoach, two places that Helene caused to rest in peace (though Zillicoach is—fingers crossed—allegedly coming back). I hadn’t returned to my favorite fall spot since the storm, as reports indicated that the road leading up to it was damaged. I feel confident in saying that these reports were accurate, given the new retaining walls I passed and the fresh pavement I drove over. There are several waterfalls on the side of 215 on the drive up, and they didn’t look the way they used to. And the trail up to my favorite waterfall wasn’t entirely the same.
But my favorite waterfall and rock? Pristinely preserved. It’s like no storm passed through, and my first time back there a few weekends back felt exactly how it felt getting the summit of Sam’s Knob all to myself just a few days before…restorative.
A few years back, I saw a picture of my favorite waterfall on a flyer hanging in the Hi-Wire RAD Beer Garden on a flyer for guided hiking expeditions to waterfalls that “only locals know about.” I was very tempted to rip it down and throw it away, though I knew that was a moot point. Then, I saw the description of the hiking expedition. The woman guiding the hikes listed four waterfalls they’d be visiting, then noted that a fifth, “located near the Shining Rock Wilderness,” is “unnamed” and that she’d prefer it to stay that way.
AshevilleExplorer 
