For nearly thirty-five years, the Friday after Thanksgiving has brought a special tradition to Lake Toxaway, North Carolina. Summer may be the season most often associated with the lake, but Thanksgiving brings a different kind of beauty to the mountains. The crowds of summer are gone, the air has turned crisp, and fires begin to glow against the backdrop of the Blue Ridge.
And down in the South Carolina Lowcountry, Thanksgiving arrives just as oyster season is getting underway.
Inspired individuals with roots in both worlds, brought these worlds together at Lake Toxaway. Fresh oysters from the Lowcountry made their way up the mountain, and a gathering of friends around a fire became a tradition.
On that Friday evening, oysters are piled over the heat and covered to steam. When they're ready, friends gather around the tables to pry open the hot shells and enjoy the salty oysters inside. Steam rises into the cold mountain air while fires crackle nearby, homemade Brunswick stew warms everyone from the inside, and old friends reconnect as another Thanksgiving weekend unfolds.
There is something wonderfully unlikely about it all—the flavors and traditions of the Carolina coast being celebrated high in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Yet after more than three decades, it all seems perfectly matched with the gratitude of the season.
"Low Country in the High Country" was inspired by that night: good food, warm fires, cold mountain air, lasting friendships, and a tradition that brings a little bit of the Carolina Lowcountry to Lake Toxaway each Thanksgiving.
LYRICS
Grabbed his oyster knife at dawn
Pulled those old blue flannels on
Headed up to Toxaway
Where mountain winds can wash away
All the noise… all the grind
Leave the heavy world behind
Waitin' on old but good friends
Hopin' this weekend never ends
Talkin' 'bout Bluffton oysters so sweet
Other beds try, but can't compete
Low Country in the High Country
Comes once a year
Smoke and laughter fill the cold night air
Life just feels so crystal clear
Low Country in the High Country
Lord, it sets my spirit free
For a few good times lovin' old friends
That's all I'll ever need
Burlap sacks over fire pits aglow
Cold creek water runnin' oh so slow
All you need is a flame
Beer and tunes we can all name
Brunswick stew from the Golden Isles
Keeps us satisfied through the night
Dusk skies and winter air
Beauty and love no longer rare
Ol' Chip smiles and it's easy to see
No wonder his name is Freeman — "Free Man" to me
Low Country in the High Country
It comes once a year
Smoke and laughter in the cold night air
And life gets crystal clear
Low Country in the High Country
Lord, it sets my spirit free
For special times with good old friends
That's all I'll ever need
Cold wet gloves and a hickory fire
Sweet smoke keeps climbin' higher
Spillin' beer and tellin' lies
Under Carolina skies
Friends makin' friends while oysters steam
Funny how simple life can seem
Where we're goin' don't matter much
Long as we vow to keep in touch
Low Country… High Country
Once a year rolls 'round
And memories linger longer
Smoke driftin' all around
Low Country… High Country
Lord, my cup fills complete
Autumn colors on the ground
With mountain air and Low Country fare
Souls soar high when they meet
Low Country in the High Country
Yeah… life is true, life is sweet