America's most popular national park is in trouble.
Evergreen trees that crown the mountains through which the Blue Ridge Parkway passes are dying, leaving behind an eerie forest of whitened, leafless trunks.
At lower elevations, oaks, maples and other deciduous trees are under attack from a moth introduced from Europe.
A lethal sickness also has struck the dogwood that brightens the forests every spring with cheery bursts of bloom, and some scientists say that in 10 to 15 years, not a single dogwood will remain.
Adding to the park's misery, last winter's ice storms felled hundreds of trees. The park, which stretches southwest from Waynesboro, Va., through North Carolina and almost to Tennessee, had to close half its 470-mile length.
But the roadway should be cleared fully by summer, according to park Superintendent Gary Everhardt.
What cannot be remedied as easily is what Mr. Everhardt calls the slow creep of development, the advance of civilization onto lands close to the parkway, destroying the very views that inspired man to build this highway in the sky.
"That is the biggest threat to the park, greater than the acid rain, the woolly aphid, the gypsy moth, the dogwood anthracnose and the winter storms," says Vera Guise, executive director of the Friends of the Blue Ridge Parkway.
"Everybody wants a room with a view," Ms. Guise says, "so they back [their homes] up to the parkway. What happens is that little by little, the scenic value declines. Nobody wants to look at barbecue grills and trash cans in somebody's back yard."
None of this means that the Blue Ridge has suddenly become a wasteland. Far from it. Despite its problems, it is still a splendid scenic highway, bordered for the most part by the southern forests and dotted with overlooks that offer breathtaking vistas of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
In the spring, magic touches the parkway. First come the wildflowers, coloring the roadsides. Then the redbud and dogwood peep out from the forest thickets, and in May and June the glorious rhododendrons burst into pink and purple blooms, producing a magnificent show.
Here and there, where the land flattens out, visitors may come upon a weathered old farm, defined by its split-rail fence, totally at home with its environment. Hiking trails lead to pretty waterfalls and secluded glades. Spur roads take visitors to craft centers, historic sites and mountain museums.
From high overlooks, the mountains themselves produce a spectacular backdrop -- a panorama of ridge after ridge, each a little deeper blue, ripples of land fading into the distance.
Last year, vistas like these prompted more than 22.9 million visits to the parkway -- the most recorded by any national park.
That popularity, however, may dim if developers have their way, particularly in the lands adjacent to the Virginia section. "The lay of the land there is rolling," explains Ms. Guise, "whereas in North Carolina the terrain is steeper, so developments aren't necessarily visible from the roadway."
Two recent Virginia cases have heightened concern for the park.
One was a proposal to build a power plant near the parkway at Buena Vista -- a threat that was averted when the plan was withdrawn after protests, according to Mr. Everhardt, the park superintendent.
The other case occurred in Roanoke, Ms. Guise says, when a developer persuaded the zoning board to reverse its own land-use plan and rezone a 300-acre parcel abutting the parkway. It went from agricultural use to allowing six buildings per acre.
After protests erupted from community leaders, the park service and environmentalists, a compromise was reached that still permits development of the parcel, but with less density and a clear area adjacent to the parkway.
"This [case] has galvanized a lot of people," Ms. Guise says. "We have formed a coalition with senators, congressmen, local planning councils, nonprofit organizations, universities -- about 75 people from every avenue of government and business, from every county in the parkway corridor . . . to meet threats to natural scenic areas."
But combating the parkway's ills isn't an easy matter.
"The parkway [administration] itself can't do much," Mr. Everhardt notes. "Most of the problems -- the affected trees, the housing developments -- lie beyond the park boundary."
As in most linear parks, the Blue Ridge Parkway owns only a narrow strip of land on each side of the roadway. Controlling adjacent development has to be a function of the communities bordering it.
As for the diseases attacking the trees, solutions so far have eluded those attacking the problem. "The dogwood problem has shocked us all," Mr. Everhardt says. "The dogwood anthracnose has been around for some years, but it's only come to the forefront in the past three to five years. A lot of forest service people are working on it."
The gypsy moth, which was brought into the country a hundred years ago with the silk business, now has moved down the parkway almost to the James River in Virginia, Mr. Everhardt says.
"It's a devastating pest. We are doing some things in the first 23 to 25 miles of the parkway -- using aerial sprays and bacterial agents -- and that has helped protect against defoliation. But a lot of forests are not in the best of shape."
For many visitors, the stark stands of dead trees at high elevations are the most shocking evidence of trouble on the parkway. At Richland Balsam in North Carolina, the highest point on the road at 6,053 feet, dead trees cover entire hillsides.
And Mount Mitchell in North Carolina, the highest peak in the East at 6,684 feet, virtually is denuded of Fraser fir and red spruce trees. In their place have grown thickets of red raspberry and smooth blackberry bushes, with young new ever-greens starting to rise above the undergrowth. Mount Mitchell is not part of the Blue Ridge Parkway, but is reached from it by a short feeder road.
Park service officials say they believe another European import, the woolly aphid, is to blame for the death of the trees. The aphid does not affect European firs, but American varieties are susceptible.
However, Hugh Morton, the owner of Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina and a longtime environmentalist, maintains the problem is caused by acid rain.
"There is no sign of aphids on many of the dead Fraser firs on Mount Mitchell, and the red spruces, which are also dying, are immune to them," Mr. Morton says. Mr. Morton blames air pollution coming from power plants that use high-sulfur coal, like the nearby TVA plant in Knoxville, Tenn. "Mount Mitchell is receiving 200 pounds of sulfates per acre per year at its summit. That's 10 times as much as nature can accommodate," Mr. Morton says. Even if the trees fight off the pollution, he says, they are weakened and thus become more susceptible to insects.
Every motorist has his favorite spots on the parkway.
Ms. Guise, of the Friends of the Blue Ridge Parkway, has three. "The views at Mount Pisgah are just breathtaking," she says. "I also like the rough terrain at Craggy Gardens -- you get the feeling that you're almost there when God created it. And at Doughton Park, the rolling hills and different kinds of fencing are so aesthetic, so captivating." Several visitor centers along the parkway offer more than views. At the Folk Art Center near Asheville, mountain craftsmen demonstrate their art. Another craft center is at Moses H. Cone Memorial Park near Blowing Rock.
The Museum of North Carolina Minerals displays samples of the state's wealth of ores and precious stones, from tungsten ore and radioactive uranium to emeralds, sapphires and rubies, all mined in North Carolina.
A remarkable feat of engineering can be seen at the Linn Cove Viaduct, a bridge that skirts Grandfather Mountain without scarring it. Built from the top down, it has won a number of design awards.
A glimpse into farm life of yesteryear is afforded at the Brinegar Cabin in Doughton Park.
One of my favorite stops is at Mabry Mill in Virginia, a preserved grist mill where farm life of a hundred years ago is re-created for visitors.
A wooden millrace supplies water from a mountain stream to a large wood wheel that turns the millstone that grinds corn into meal. In a nearby building, you can watch a blacksmith hammer red-hot horseshoes into shape on an anvil. A horsepowered cane mill squeezes juice from sorghum to make molasses.
There's an old moonshine still at Mabry Mill, too, but no demonstrations are given.
Such way-stops make the parkway much more than a high-level highway in the mountains. It is, really, a window into mountain life of a simpler age.
IF YOU GO . . .
Accommodations: Because this mountain country is a resort area, many hotels, motels and inns are situated in communities close to the parkway. On the parkway itself, lodging is found at four locations: Mount Pisgah, Doughton Park, Rocky Knob and Peaks of Otter. Reservations are advisable. Contacts: Pisgah Inn, open May through October, (704) 235-8228; Bluffs Lodge, Doughton Park, May through October, (910) 982-2988; Rocky Knob Cabins, June through Labor Day, (703) 593-3503; Peaks of Otter Lodge, open all year, (703) 586-1081.
Camping: The parkway has nine campgrounds open from May through October.
Trails: Self-guiding trails are found at eight locations. The park also has many miles of hiking trails, which vary in length and difficulty.
Wildlife: You may see small animals at the roadside. Black bears and whitetail deer live in the forest but are seldom seen. More than 100 species of birds can be spotted during the spring migrations.
Visitor centers: There are 11 on the parkway, at Folk Art Center, Craggy Gardens, Museum of North Carolina Minerals, Linville Falls, Linn Cove Viaduct, Moses H. Cone Memorial Park, Cumberland Knob, Rocky Knob, Peaks of Otter, James River and Humpback Rocks.
Regulations: Maximum speed limit on the parkway is 45 miles an hour.
Information: The Blue Ridge National Park, 200 B B & T Building, Asheville, N.C. 28801; (704) 298-0398 or (704) 271-4779.