Column: Pump the brakes on unbridled growth

Sep. 10—She heard about a place, people were smiling.

They spoke about the red man's way

And how they loved the land.

And they came from everywhere to the Great Divide

Seeking a place to stand, or a place to hide.

— "The Last Resort," The Eagles

I was driving down the road, trying to loosen my load on a recent trip from Jackson County back home to Waynesville, the classic album "Hotel California" blaring from the stereo.

The sun was well into its descent behind the high peaks of the Balsams, its low rays bouncing from the rearview mirror, forcing me to squint beneath my sunglasses as I motored toward Waynesville. I began to sing along with Don Henley on "The Last Resort," the album's final cut, when it hit me how accurately the words of the 46-year-old tune depict what is happening in Western North Carolina.

The song describes a journey from Providence (the one in Rhode Island) westward to California, a once-beautiful land ravaged in the name of greed disguised as progress. "They called it paradise, I don't know why," Henley and I sang in unison, he in key, me not even close. "Somebody laid the mountains down, while the town got high."

While I'm not suggesting local and state leaders are too busy living life in the fast lane, circa '70s SoCal, to take steps to slow the "Californication" of WNC, all it takes is a drive through our mountains to provide proof that it's past time to pay closer attention to our environment.

Some rich men came and bought the land.

Nobody caught them.

Put up a bunch of ugly boxes,

And, Jesus, people bought them.

They called it paradise, the place to be.

They watched the hazy sun

Sinking into the sea.

At several sites during a drive through the mountains, you can't help but notice where enterprising landowners have carved huge chunks of steep terrain in an effort to make their property more appealing to potential buyers. Trees have been slashed to the ground and entire hillsides have been bulldozed, revealing large gashes of topsoil, roots, red clay and stone.

On top of being an eyesore to those passing the gaping wounds in the earth, this speculative excavation can do nothing but add sedimentation to mountain waterways already suffering from the impact of erosion and runoff.

Depending upon the route you take, you may pass by one of the many housing developments coming soon to Haywood County. While it is true that our mountain region is suffering from a lack of affordable housing, it is equally true that many of the places where these apartment complexes, subdivisions and second-home McMansions are being built are simply not suitable for large developments.

In addition to the inevitable environmental impacts on land, waterways and air, many of these multifamily developments are being shoehorned into tight, existing neighborhoods that lack adequate roads, sidewalks and other infrastructure. Simply trying to make a left turn onto a busy Russ Avenue from our neighborhood on the outskirts of town can be an exercise in futility.

A few paragraphs back, I referred to fears of the "Californication" of WNC. Waynesville residents have taken it one step further and are warning against their quiet, quaint little town becoming another Asheville. Would that be Ashi-fornication? Ashe-vilifying? Ashe-villainy?

Look, I get it. Growth and development are unavoidable. People move to WNC because it offers a quality of life matched by few other locales in the world. And that fact has become even more apparent today than the first time I tackled this subject in this newspaper more than 21 years ago.

The global COVID-19 pandemic has driven hordes of former big-city residents seeking refuge from crowded urban conditions in the slower pace offered by mountain living — especially now that many people have discovered they can work effectively and efficiently from home. Why not have that home located here in the little slice of paradise known as the Southern Appalachian Mountains, with a burgeoning culinary, craft beer, arts and music scene?

While growth and development may be unavoidable, unchecked growth and development are not. Ironically, we are risking the very things that make WNC such a wonderful place — clear air, pure water, undisturbed mountain views, nature — if we permit development to continue without reasonable checks and balances.

Without action toward some sort of regulated plan for growth, I fear one day not too far away we'll all be singing the sad final refrain of The Eagles' "The Last Resort":

They call it paradise.

I don't know why.

You call someplace paradise,

Kiss it goodbye.

Bill Studenc, who began his career in journalism and communications at The Mountaineer in 1983, retired in January 2021 as chief communications officer at Western Carolina University. He now writes about life in the mountains of Western North Carolina.