CAMP SKY TOP

 

CAMP SKY TOP

Back in the sixties there was a place called Camp Sky Top. It consisted of a Boy’s camp and a Girls Camp. Separated by about a mile, the boys and girls got together for cookouts and canoeing on the small lake at the boy’s camp.

The buildings were rudimentary, with bunk beds and outdoor toilets. Nestled off the beaten path right up against a forest known to house panthers, bears and other critters, the boy’s and girls explored around the camps gingerly and never alone. Stay in pairs said the Camp Counselors who trained the campers in basic woodsmanship.  Campfires and sing-alongs were some of the most enjoyable times for the residents who mostly came from city life.

My sister, Thelma, was a caretaker for the boy’s camp at one time. Later, a great friend from Georgia, Norris Free was the caretaker. We played guitars together and occasionally had a sip or two or three of a mountain drink called moonshine or as some liked to call it, white lightning.  Norris paid me once in a while to mow the grass around the boy’s camp so the kids could see the snakes a coming.

My brother Howard had a whiskey still up the road about two miles away up a holler with a small mountain branch running through the holler. I remember one time distinctly. Gerald told me to pick him up on Frozen Creek Road that run past the camps at about 7:30 in the evening. I parked at a small pull-out by the holler and opened the trunk. Both Gerald and I loaded the trunk down with gallon jugs of whiskey. Some of the jugs still had the Coca Cola emblems on the labels. Since we were driving by  Camp Sky Top. We decided to stop and give Norris Free a taste of our moonshine.

We drove around the small lake and parked in front of the main section of the camp which housed a large kitchen area and living quarters for Norris and his wife Merle.  Our Daddy had taught us how to temper the whiskey down to 100 proof but Gerald was reluctant to get it down that weak so most of his jugs ranged from 110 to 120 proof. This was mostly corn whiskey and it had quite a bite going down.

Well, we took a jug at random and knocked on the door by the kitchen. Norris was sitting inside plucking away on his old Kay guitar. He was always glad to see us, and he always had a smile. He invited us in, and we sat by the large kitchen gas range and drank a little.

It was getting into the fall, and the weather had cooled so Norris decided to start a fire in the gas range to warm up the room. He turned the gas on and went looking for some matches. Well, he was moving kind of slow, and I could hear the hissing of the gas. He finally found the matches and came over to light the burners. I was positioned right in front of the large range.

Norris struck a match and started to light a burner. He got about two feet away and all of a sudden both Norris and I landed backwards  about 10 feet head over heels. The loud boom echoed through the kitchen. Gerald was sitting back and to the left of the range and he  was just shocked, and he figured Norris, and I were done for. The flame went all over me and I’m glad I did not have a glass of moonshine in my hand, or it would have blown my hand off. Both Norris and I got to our feet and seemed to be OK. In from the bedroom came Norris’s wife Merle running to beat the band. She grabbed Norris and screamed at him, “Are you OK? Norris was about three sheets in the wind, and he just nodded with kind of a goofy grin. Once Merle found out he was OK, she hauled off and knocked him on his butt. Don’t you ever scare me like that again, she muttered and whirled around and was gone. She was as mad as a wet hen.

I helped Norris up off the floor and he looked at me and laughed. Gerald came over and looked at me, and he laughed too. What the hell says I. Gerald told me that my eyebrows were gone, and I had had some bushy ones. Norris offered to get some of Merle’s Maybelline and paint me some eyebrows, but I declined.

Well since everyone survived the explosion, we went back to the jug of moonshine and drank some more. Norris and I took turns picking his old guitar and singing. Gerald just kept on chuckling. Norris took a ham out of the big industrial freezer, and we made ham and cheese sandwiches and drank a little more. Well maybe a little more than a little more.

Eventually, my eyebrows grew back. Merle calmed down some and Gerald enjoyed telling the story to just about everyone. Just another Frozen Creek adventure. We got back into my 1953 Chevy Bel Air and Gerald insisted on driving. I told him I was sober enough to drive but he said if the revenuers caught us, they would charge me for driving without eyebrows. And he laughed and laughed some more as he maneuvered the dirt road curves of Frozen Creek road.

 

For those not from those parts, Frozen Creek Road was a rough section of Transylvania County about 13 miles from Brevard. For those who are not familiar with Brevard , it is about 9 miles from Rosman on highway 64. If that don’t help, it is about 47 miles from Ashville. They have an airport there.

Sidenote:  Camp Sky Top changed hands over the years and at one time, a bunch of hippies bought the place. They smoked wacky tobacco and dressed in colorful clothing. But, they had some wonderful music sessions and dances on the weekend. I learned the song “Little Band of Gold” from one of the Hippies. I still play it on my guitar, and I often think of Norris Free and his goofy grin. He had to be a nice guy because my Mama liked him. 

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