A swing through the south; goodbye to Sue Raley

We took a swing through the south last week. Visited friends on the Rappahannock River in Virginia, drove southwestward to Asheville and Brevard to spend time with family in the Smoky Mountains, then headed southeastward across the heartland of South Carolina to Charleston for more friend time, up the coast to Myrtle Beach for a spiritual visit with Meher Baba, then to Wrightsville Beach for another visit with family.

We finished the loop by recrossing the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay from Norfolk to Cape Charles. At a bar in the little town of Cape Charles, we reflected on our journey. The owner/bartender told us he had moved to Cape Charles from Manhattan 11 years ago. Just a minor adjustment.

"I tell people I went from 9 million people to 900," he said as he pushed thick Reubens and cold, sweaty beers across the polished bar.

"How's business?" I asked.

"It's February, but 11 years and a full restoration of this old bank later, we're still here."

Three hours later we were back in Lewes. On the week-long journey we racked up 1,600 miles, with lots of good visits, and feeling like we always do: happy to be back home.

In between we crossed the great tidal rivers of Virginia and drove through vast pine forests and peanut fields in North Carolina's Piedmont Plateau before entering the hardwoods of the Smoky Mountains.

We glimpsed Mount Mitchell - at nearly 7,000 feet the highest point east of the Mississippi - and stood in wonder at the base of a thunderous waterfall in 10,300-acre DuPont State Recreational Forest near Brevard. The Delaware-based company manufactured X-ray film and other products at the site into the late 1900s but has long since closed up shop.

Between Brevard and Asheville, we visited Dogfish Sam's friends at Sierra Nevada's East Coast Brewery. Beforehand we stopped at a nearby bicycle shop where they also have a rough-hewn bar and several local beers on tap. That's how they roll in that neck of the woods. I had hoped to sample a beer called Wicked Weed that one of Sam's coworkers had recommended, but they were fresh out. I told the bartender/mechanic we were going to Sierra Nevada for lunch.

"You won't be disappointed," he said. "Around here we call that place Malt Disney World."

He was right. We were impressed. Great architecture, gleaming stainless and copper brewing facilities, wonderful outdoor party area with a big amphitheatre where live bands play in decent weather, all mixed in with gardens and bocce. Definitely worth the visit.

On a Sunday morning, I wanted something light in alcohol with my lunch. I smiled when I saw one of the in-house drafts written on the daily board. They called it a Super Session IPA with a super-light 2.5 percent ABV (alcohol by volume). All I can tell you is it went down real good, with lots of the citrusy hoppy flavor that characterizes many IPAs (India Pale Ales).

Lots of initials in the craft brewing business: IPA, ABV and IBU. IBU stands for International Bitterness Unit, which gives a sense of how bitter a brew will taste.

Farewell to Sue Raley

Speaking of bitterness, the one down note in our journey - a very sad note - was news from home that Sue Raley had passed away after a good, long life.

Sue was one half - many say the better half - of the dynamic Bob and Sue Raley team. She could be loud, crusty and gruff, rarely kept her opinions to herself, but she had a great sense of humor to go with her wonderful smile and a heart inside that glittered equally as bright.

Sue's family helped Bob when he moved to town as an enterprising young man. He rented a room in the house where Sue and her mother lived, and eventually married Sue.

After that she meddled little and raised their three children while Bob was working the real estate market, buying and selling farms, owning and operating florist shops, and developing Holly Lake Campground, Boat Hole Marina at Love Creek, Nassau Valley Vineyards with his daughters, and the Vineyards project now blossoming around the grapevines.

"That's all Raley's stuff," she would say.

Sue told stories well, especially about cooking muskrats and growing up in Milton amid her Graves family's deep involvement with the once-thriving hosiery and garment industry.

One day a few years ago we were talking, and I mentioned that I'd never known her to hesitate to speak her mind. As forthrightly as ever, she said: "Dennis, I don't drink, I don't smoke and I don't run around - but I do have a sharp tongue."

I'm going to miss that sharp tongue.