The Founding of Mushroom Mountain Cellars

Nestled among the steep stone teeth of the old world is a subalpine forest of pine and broadleaf: a misty verdant oasis largely untouched by man since before memory. In that lush wood, smaller mountains ripple the landscape like a crumpled velvet curtain of frosted emerald. A quick river twists between the mountains carrying clear cold water from the surrounding gray peaks.

The river, nearly as devoid of humans as the forest, meandered save for the occasional intrepid explorer or hunter of gold. It was on the latter business they say that Aldous Erwyn first entered the valley. They say he in a snooze overshot his camp and drifted on the river into the seemingly never-ending range.  Desperation drove him to ford his canoe and seek respite on foot. Old Red – as they called him not for his age or complexion but for his bloodshot eyes from excessive reading, or so he said – faced with a long meandering journey upstream, and downstream being quite unknown, and having more than a fair measure of confidence in his navigation skills, decided to cut a path due North and crossing the river where necessary.

After two days trekking in those thick woods and surviving on later Summer berries (that the bears had not gotten to) Erwyn was lost, hungry, and disheartened. The third night, Red set up a makeshift camp on the riverbed under a brilliant full moon. Across the river, near the summit of a dome-shaped mountain, the miner saw a glow like a pale campfire or white candlelight. Thinking it could be a friendly party or cabin to take him in, Aldous made his way towards the dim beacon.

He reached its source and it was no fire, but the glowing mouth of a cave two thirds up the mountainside. Old Red scrambled towards it and entered the cave, which to his surprise was vast. Its main cavern and numerous passageways were illuminated by moonlight reflecting off the smooth rock that seemed polished by some unknown force. Erwyn was drawn deeper by a strange, alluring fragrance that wafted in tendrils through the air. Deeper in the cave he discovered mushrooms so intoxicating in scent and form that, bolstered by his hunger he devoured.  

Old Red claims he spent a year on that mountain, exploring the cave’s recesses, foraging the land, and eating the delectable and inexhaustible mushrooms unlike any known to man. The following Summer, he left, vowing to return to his “Mushroom Mountain Cellar”, named after its shape and the life-saving natural treasure therein.

And he did return, several years later with his recent bride, Elizabeth Goldberry, a librarian and naturalist. Arriving on a long riverboat laden with life’s essentials (salt, seeds, tools, linens, medicines, books, their cats, and the like) they re-round Red’s Respite again with the guidance of a full moon. There, they made their new home where they’d start a family, a vineyard, and create the venerable, historic, and somewhat mysterious place that is The Moonlit Library at Mushroom Mountain Cellars. That, and create more stories – real and not-so-real – than we can tell here. Suffice to say that Old Red and Elizabeth poured their lives and souls into that mountain.

We, and our lovely but infrequent guests from whom we’ve always accepted payment in the form of rare books, beautiful photographs, or even clever riddles, are left with much: A simple log home build on the mountain, a modest appellation of grape vines, an expansive cellar for aging wines and cheese and growing mushrooms, and a network of tunnels some of which we do not enter.

Most importantly, they left us the Moonlit Library: a monument to knowledge for its own sake, to old books stacked high alongside long wooden tables, to endless cool night by a low fire, to drink, camaraderie, solace, and sobriety in equal measure, and to a library that never closes and is best under the pale light of a full moon.
—
Nate
Curator, Proprietor, Descendant of A. Goldberry