Thursday, February 26, 2015

A Corner Of Lake Lure

There are quite a few places that sent me to writing my first book, but Lake Lure really got me wondering. Actually, it was coming back from Lake Lure on one of our trips there that got me curious, and kept me curious for years. One summer, all hot and sticky like summer in North Carolina can only be, we are driving back from our stay at the lake. Outside of Lake Lure is a very rural area, neat little pull offs and old places, just an interesting juxtaposition to the quiet luxury of the lake. But what really got me were the low spots and little valleys on the side of the road. In the heat, the kudzu vine grew like it was a petri dish, a giant green weedy salad that covered everything in its path. And I just wondered what could be hidden under all those leaves.
I found out later that there really is something hidden under there. Not the kudzu, but the lake itself.
When the river was impounded with the dam, the area was mostly farmland, but there was a small community still on the land. The story I heard was that the town of Buffalo was bought up, lock stock and barrel, by Lucius Morse when he decided to create Lake Lure. The few people that were there were told to get out with what they could carry. Thus the town, the houses and some of the other bits of life of a farm community were left behind.
My favorite part of the legend was that the church was located at the dead center of the lake. The cold deep water preserved the church, its stained glass still whole in the windows, offering a service to only the fish that swim that deep.
And maybe to the spirits that were laid to rest in now watery graves.
The legend goes that if you take a boat out to dead center in the lake at midnight, you can hear the watery chiming of the church bell, still in the steeple, calling the souls to their pews.


Over the years I discovered so many other legends and tales to the place. Chimney Rock, attached at one end, is noted for its ghostly visitors, and two hotels are said to be haunted.
But that's for another story.


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