Maeburl Tincher
The Smokies are ancient, full of mystery and suspense.
Graham County itself is uniquely ambiguous. Rugged and remote, its boundaries lie within the realms of both the Great Smoky Mountains and the Nantahala National Forest.
It’s virtually a forest within a forest. The lands are primal and dark. Laurel thickets and old-growth hickory stands still crowd the nether regions of the back woods.
For this reason, many believe the legendary tales of extraordinary creatures roaming the high mountain gaps and deep dark coves.
The most famous of these is none other than Bigfoot himself. However, a lesser-known species is that of the Moon-Eyed People.
Old Cherokee chiefs told of an indigenous nocturnal race that was here before they arrived.
They were described as being albino – shorter in stature – with excessive white facial hair and pale blue eyes. They were said to be sensitive to light which necessitated their venturing out in the evening.
We had never heard of such a thing growing up. We were however cautioned about snakes, bears and bobcats. In fact, no one ever ventured further up Jutts Creek without a gun in tote.
One evening, Daddy came home brokenhearted over the loss of his favorite horse and highly perplexed by an encounter he had deep in Holloway Cove – near Jutts Creek Gap – while trying to locate the animal.
This horse came from a wild herd in Colorado. Whoever gentled him did an exceptional job. He was kind, smart and willing. He commanded our respect in the quietest ways.
Scott was solid black head-to-toe, with one unique feature: he had a mound of whiskers that fell from his front lip. This made it look as if he was sporting a mustache.
I was about 12 when Scott went missing. I remember Daddy being very hurt over his horse. He explained that he had found Scott and had to put him down. The horse had gotten trapped in great vines and had somehow broken its leg in the process of trying to break free.
He continued to say that he didn’t want us up in those fields, because he had seen something that looked like a white, hairy ape.
That day, myth and mystery passed into reality for us – no matter how strange. Whatever Daddy saw was real to him and he never changed his story or denied his experience.
For those of us who grew up deep in the recesses of the Nantahala, no convincing is really necessary.
We know the woods have eyes. Even when you can’t see it, you can feel it.
Without knowing it, Daddy saw what his Cherokee ancestors described centuries before his arrival.
The mountains were his ancestral heritage and the mysteries revealed themselves to him in ways most will never know.
Maeburl Tincher writes a monthly column for The Graham Star. She is a Graham County native.