Sounds from the Mellowdrome
In March of 2021, I had just relocated to Asheville, NC. Living in the Southeast for most of my adult life, I had been to Asheville many times and fallen in love with its beauty, its history, and the access to abundant nature. The move was somewhat unexpected after some personal upheaval during the tumultuous year that was 2020 and I was so excited to finally call this place home.
Words for recovery
In March of 2021, I had just relocated to Asheville, NC. Living in the Southeast for most of my adult life, I had been to Asheville many times and fallen in love with its beauty, its history, and the access to abundant nature. The move was somewhat unexpected after some personal upheaval during the tumultuous year that was 2020 and I was so excited to finally call this place home.
I’ve moved quite a few times in my adult years and I’ve developed a pattern to learning my new surroundings that is much like how I travel. Frequently, it’s as simple as just getting out and exploring—turning down a street I’ve never been down before and seeing what’s next. I discovered the Mellowdrome much like this.
Carrier Park is one of Asheville’s few city parks and is situated along the French Broad River at the base of the city. Inside the park, the Mellowdrome sits just up from the river’s edge. When I first visited the park and saw this enclosed rink, I had no idea what I was seeing, I’d never encountered a mellowdrome before.
The Mellowdrome was full of cyclists logging laps on the track, roller skaters making their way around the edge, families languidly walking with strollers, and people crossing the foot bridge with sporting equipment in tow to access the playground, hockey rinks, and volleyball courts in the rink’s center.
I was charmed by the busy park and by how much the community seemed to love the Mellowdrome’s activities. I eventually joined the community and spent much time in the park during my tenure in Asheville. I spent many afternoons walking along the river banks, cycling the trails, and spreading a blanket to grab some sunshine in the hot summer months. But after a two-year stay, I have since moved away. And although I no longer call Asheville home, it will always leave an impression on my heart.
For those not aware, Asheville and many other places in Western North Carolina and Southeastern Tennessee experienced devastating flooding from Hurricane Helene in September 2024. Carrier Park and The Mellowdrome were some of the countless places that unfortunately suffered major damage from the flooding. To my knowledge, they are both still closed awaiting cleanup and repairs.
I have yet to return to the Asheville area since the storm, but I do have plans to visit later this spring. I have mixed emotions about returning. I have a deep desire to return to a place I called home for two years, and to help the community heal and rebuild in any way that I can. But I don’t want to be mistaken for a “disaster tourist,” or someone showing up to gawk at the damage.
Recovery is a difficult balance. While many of the Western North Carolina cities and surrounding areas are open and ready for seasonal tourism to start up again, there is still a lot of destruction and pain in the region. It is a challenge to support the places I know and love by traveling there, yet also be respectful for all the life-changing damage that has been done.
Below is my first impression of The Mellowdrome in March of 2021. At a time when the world was collectively coming out of unprecedented disaster, I find my words to be fitting for the current recovery that Asheville and much of Western North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee are still working towards.
Mellowdrome, Asheville, NC | 2021
I’m walking along the edge of recreational buzz — basketball, volleyball, a roller hockey game, rollerbladers, cyclists, families kicking soccer balls.
It’s the end of the day, the kids are walking off the rink, carrying skates and sticks, talking with their mom about dropping 6th period, listening to music streaming through a Bluetooth speaker.
It’s dusk, the streetlights aren’t on yet. The air is full of energy, that buzz that exists at the turning of a season, this one, winter into spring. It’s that energy that makes you feel like there is so much more to come, like there is so much good up ahead.
I observe all this in a few dense moments and suddenly I’m overwhelmed with gratitude, hope, and a renewed love for where I find myself. This is just another stop on my journey. It may be for longer than my last few stops, but that’s ok. I need some stability. And this place seems like a good place to spend some time.
The air is ripe with energy, there is so much good up ahead.
Lindsey A Miller | 2021
Thanks for reading along. If you’re interested in travel that’s a little less polished, a little less planned, and a lot more focused on the feeling of being in a place, subscribe to Waypoints. Paid subscribers receive an exclusive discount on all prints and products in the shop.
Let's wander a little slower, and see what we find.
Lindsey A. Miller
Anatomy of a Roadtrip
Many of my photographs are the result of my travels. What photographer doesn’t love travel or began their photography obsession with travel photography? I certainly fit the trope of a young American kid backpacking through Europe with a film camera in tow. I fell in love with architecture and markets, street vendors and gardens, esplanades and town squares. My love for documentary style photography is a throughline in my work.
A winter roadtrip down the Delmarva Peninsula
Many of my photographs are the result of my travels. What photographer doesn’t love travel or began their photography obsession with travel photography? I certainly fit the trope of a young American kid backpacking through Europe with a film camera in tow. I fell in love with architecture and markets, street vendors and gardens, esplanades and town squares. My love for documentary style photography is a throughline in my work.
Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge | 2021
International travel is a passion of mine, but hopping a flight and crossing the pond or other massive body of water to collect stamps in my passport is not something I have the privilege of doing frequently. So back here in the states, I feed my insatiable need for exploration and discovery by taking road trips.
Having lived in the coastal Southeast for more than 30 years, I’ve become well acquainted with and quite fond of the barrier islands that guard our eastern shores. These dynamic land masses are in constant flux making them a fascinating study of geology and climatology. They are also archaeologically and historically significant, playing important roles in the history of indigenous people populations as well the early American settlers.
Nowadays, many of these barrier islands have been developed into vacation spots with high end real estate. However there are a significant number of undeveloped and protected islands that still harbor the natural beauty of these sandy sentinels.
A few of the protected islands I’ve had the privilege of visiting and exploring include: Masonboro Island off the coast of North Carolina near Wilmington; Hunting Island in South Carolina south of Charleston; and all the barrier islands of The Outer Banks in North Carolina, many of which have protected land.
There are hundreds of barrier islands on the Atlantic and Gulf coastlines here in the states, many of which are undeveloped and only accessible by boat. I’ve had the idea for years to create a photo project to document all the major barrier islands up the east coast. It’s definitely a long-term bucket list project.
Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge | 2021
How I Got to Delmarva
In January 2021, I was leaving New England and driving back to South Carolina and decided to make a road trip out of the commute. Having recently visited the Outer Banks of North Carolina, I wanted to expand my barrier island exploration further north up the east coast and visit coastal Maryland and the Delmarva Peninsula.
I didn’t know anything about the Delmarva, other than at the southern point was the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. And as an avid road tripper, driving through the tunnel was high on my list. So I made the tunnel a waypoint on the road trip and began to research what I could find in between.
I immediately discovered the barrier islands of Chincoteague and Assateague and the feral horse population that reside in the marshes and forests. I decided to make the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge another waypoint on the trip. Overnighting on the peninsula was necessary and I found a tiny cabin on Airbnb making it another waypoint. My route was mapped out, all that was left was to explore along the way.
Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge | 2021
The Beauty of Unseen Places
The Delmarva is a quiet, sparsely populated flat stretch of land, full of farmland and forests with The Atlantic coastline to the east, and Chesapeake Bay shoreline to the west. The bay was a formidable barrier, a vast yet gentle wash that further isolated the region. I had never seen the bay before and its calmness was a stark contrast to the constant churning of the ocean. Visiting in January and during the tail end of the COVID lockdowns cast an even deeper level of quietude on the area. There wasn’t much to explore other than to witness the bucolic landscapes that stretched on for miles.
In Cambridge, MD, I saw the familiar calling card of hand painted signage on a corrugated metal building that broadcasted, “ANTIQUES.” The building was adorned with the token wagon wheels and rusty antique farm tools that are familiar ephemera for these picker paradises and I knew it would be a good respite after the hours of driving. The front windows housed a rainbow display of colored glass pieces that felt like a portal beckoning me into a magical world. Once in the entryway, I was welcomed with a circle of glass display cases full of antique ephemera – jewelry, trinkets, pocket knives, and other tiny collectibles.
Dark Horse Antiques, Cambridge, MD | 2021
Sitting behind the glass barrier was the old man who ran the Dark Horse Antiques shop - Richard a.k.a. Rick and his wife Barbara. He told me they were from Minnesota originally and they came from a family of farmers. Without my inquiry, he told me a story about a massive snowstorm in the 1970s. The Chesapeake Bay froze over and a man drove a VW Beetle across the ice from down in one of the Waterman towns up to Cambridge because he didn’t want to cross all the bridges. (He called it Waterman Jones, I was unclear if the name was in reference to the town or the man.)
In the shop, my treasure hunt rewarded me with two books to add to my used book collection. The first, “Fisherman’s Luck” by Henry Van Dyke, a stunning antique circa 1899. I fell in love instantly with the pale green fabric and gorgeous gold embossed fish on the cover. Inside was a pasted card outlining “The Saturday Book Club,” a ladies book club which included the handwritten names, addresses, and dates when its members checked out this copy. After some quick sleuthing on a map, I pieced together the addresses and found the club was located in Brooklyn, NY. I felt like I stepped back in time when I opened its cover. I daydreamed about the ladies from the early 20th century and why they might have belonged to a book club and how they discussed the stories inside this copy.
Antique Books
The second book I found was an 1959 publication of a collection of poetry from E. E. Cummings. It was a collectors item, which was my main reason for bringing it home with me. But I also secretly want to exercise my brain by reading some of the most beautiful and challenging poetry I’ve ever encountered. I’ve always aspired to be the type of person who reads poetry for fun, but admittedly, I still struggle with comprehension. I tend to take it too literally. I haven’t finished the book.
After a quiet overnight in the tiny cabin, I made my way east towards the barrier islands and their mythic horses. Passing through the rural towns of the central peninsula, I was shocked to see a collection of enormous satellites at the marsh edge just before the islands. I had come upon NASA's Wallops Flight Facility, an unexpected technological presence along the eastern shore. I was unaware there were any NASA launch facilities outside of Florida and Texas. Surprise encounters like this are why I love road trips so much
Bucket List Barrier Islands
Upon entering Chincoteague Island, the coastal village had distinct echos of New England coastal towns with a small main street area and a few clapboard cottages. The day I visited, it was chilly and overcast with intermittent light rain, adding a slight layer of forlornness. I took the short drive from Chincoteague Island to Assateague Island, and entered the Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge, the protected area where the wild horses roamed.
Wild Pony in Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge | 2021
My first horse sighting was simply joyous! From my car, I could see a small herd of the wild horses grazing in the distant marsh. The tidal waters must have been low enough to enable them to wander out into the grass. The horses were stout, and looked more like ponies (they are referred to as both, although technically, they are horses.) Most had brown and white patterned hair, which I now know is a pinto pattern.
The ponies seemed out of place here. Their presence in the marshy, swampy surroundings evoked a layer of fantasy and I couldn’t help but think of one of my favorite childhood movie characters – Artax, the loyal horse companion of the warrior Atreyu in The Neverending Story. All I could see was Artax and Atreyu wandering through the Swamp of Sadness, and on this dreary, cold day, I felt the loss of that fictional horse.
Great Egret, Chincoteague National Wildlife Refuge | 2021
The Wildlife Refuge was beautiful and despite the cold, wet weather, I went for a nature walk along the trails. I saw many different species of waterfowl floating in the tidal creeks and wading in the marshes. More ponies were grazing in a separate part of the island, distancing themselves from the few tourists who braved the weather. The island was quite peaceful on this cold winter day.
I departed the reserve and made my way to the southern terminus of the peninsula, my exit point, The Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. This modern marvel of engineering did prove to be exciting, and a little bit unnerving. The almost 18-mile long expanse of bridges and two tunnels spans the vast mouth of the great bay. Traveling along the narrow stretches of concrete felt isolating and diving below the surface in the tunnels was shockingly claustrophobic. I was relieved to reach the Virginia shoreline.
Take the Trip – You Won’t Regret It
My trip down The Delmarva was a memorable one, full of welcomed quietude, bucolic landscapes, and unexpected discoveries. The unique circumstances of a slow winter shortly after the COVID lockdowns only added to the distinction of the experience – I knew I’d never get to experience the peninsula in the same way again.
Fishing Wharf near Cambridge, MD | 2021
I’ve come to love solo road trips, I have dozens under my belt now spanning Upstate New York, The Panhandle of Florida, The Appalachians of Western North Carolina and Georgia, multiple barrier islands along the Carolina coasts, and everywhere in between. I hit the road as often as I can, with only a waypoint or two—the rest unfolds naturally. Not only do these trips lead to discoveries of parts unknown, but they have enabled me to experience parts of our country mostly unknown to outsiders. I’ve been able to see deeper into these places and broadened my understanding of the unique, regional cultures. This is a vast and diverse country, and I have so much left to explore.
My love of solo travel and road trips are deeply ingrained in who I am and I truly love sharing my experiences with others. My goal is to shed light on places that might otherwise go unnoticed by most travelers. My hope is to inspire others to take a journey of their own and uncover their own wonderful discoveries.
Thanks for reading along. If you’re interested in travel that’s a little less polished, a little less planned, and a lot more focused on the feeling of being in a place, subscribe to Waypoints. Paid subscribers receive an exclusive discount on all prints and products in the shop.
Let's wander a little slower, and see what we find.
Lindsey A. Miller
36 Hours in Denver, 2018
In 2018, I decided to experiment with dirt-cheap back-to-back ticketing on Frontier Airlines. I was living in Atlanta, I had a friend in Austin, my sister was in Portland, and I could stitch the destinations together with an overnight in Denver. Knowing Denver had rail from the airport to city center, I figured I could make a fun overnight trip out of the layover.
An archives project
In 2018, I decided to experiment with dirt-cheap back-to-back ticketing on Frontier Airlines. I was living in Atlanta, I had a friend in Austin, my sister was in Portland, and I could stitch the destinations together with an overnight in Denver. Knowing Denver had rail from the airport to city center, I figured I could make a fun overnight trip out of the layover.
36 Hours in Denver, 2018 (1 of 3)
This wasn’t my first time in Denver, but it was my first opportunity to explore beyond the hotels and conference centers of professional obligations. I made no plans other than booking an Airbnb in the Highland neighborhood and planning to take public transport (and the odd rideshare.)
36 Hours in Denver, 2018 (2 of 3)
I covered a surprising amount of ground in the sprawling city: Union Station, Highland Cable Bridge, The R.E.I. Flagship Store, The Denver Art Museum, City Park, and I even got myself out to Red Rocks to see the beautiful rock formations with out the crowds.
36 Hours in Denver, 2018 (3 of 3)
This brief layover ended up becoming one of my favorite trips to date and firmly solidified my love of flâneur-style travel and Street Photography. You can view the entire “36 Hours in Denver, 2018” photo series in beautiful, full-size images at my here.
Thanks for coming along for the ride on this spontaneous project delving into the depths of my personal archives. If you’re interested in travel that’s a little less polished, a little less planned, and a lot more focused on the feeling of being in a place, subscribe to Waypoints. Paid subscribers receive an exclusive discount on all prints and products in the shop.
Let's wander a little slower, and see what we find.
Lindsey A. Miller