THE STORY
Alright, let’s crank up the heat on this tale of SugarTop Condominiums, where filmmaker Garrick Lane dives headfirst into a whirlwind of scandal, defiance, and a mountain’s revenge. Buckle up for a wild ride through Western North Carolina’s most notorious architectural fiasco!
SugarTop Condos: A Monstrous Dream Born of Greed
Picture this: it’s 1981, and Little Sugar Mountain, a rugged, windswept peak in Avery County, North Carolina, is about to get a makeover nobody asked for. Resort Investment Corp. and U.S. Capital Corp. hatched a plan to slap a condo complex next to the Sugar Mountain Ski Resort. The original pitch? A modest five-story wood-and-steel setup. But somewhere along the line, ambition—or maybe just plain hubris—took over. The plans ballooned into a ten-story concrete behemoth, built to shrug off hurricane-force winds screaming past 160 mph at 5,281 feet. This wasn’t just a building; it was a middle finger to nature itself.
Enter Garrick Lane, our filmmaker protagonist, whose cozy family camping trip got wrecked by icy weather, forcing him to check into the very place he swore he’d never set foot in: the SugarTop Condos, aka “Avery’s Abomination,” “The Eye Sore,” or the “Monolith of Misery.” What started as a weekend of begrudging shelter turned into a three-year obsession to unearth the truth behind this concrete beast. Why here? How did this monstrosity even get built? And who thought this was a good idea?
A Mountain of Corruption and Plot Twists
Lane’s investigation plays like a noir thriller, peeling back layers of corruption, greed, and outright audacity. The developers’ decision to go from three stories to ten wasn’t just a design tweak—it was a financial kamikaze mission. The infrastructure needed to prop up this beast on a wind-battered mountaintop should’ve bankrupted the construction company before the first concrete pour. Roads, utilities, retaining walls—every element screamed “impossible.” Yet, somehow, the project barreled forward, fueled by shady deals and backroom handshakes that Lane uncovers through gritty interviews with locals, activists, and even a few guilt-ridden insiders.
The plot twists come fast and furious. Permits that should’ve been rejected were mysteriously approved. Environmental concerns were swept under the rug. The locals, fiercely protective of their Blue Ridge paradise, fought tooth and nail to stop the project, rallying under the banner of preserving their mountain’s soul. Lane’s footage captures the raw outrage—town hall shouting matches, protest signs dotting the hills, and whispers of bribes that kept the bulldozers rolling.
The Mountain Fights Back
But here’s where it gets juicy: Western North Carolina didn’t just roll over. As SugarTop’s towers rose, so did the region’s resolve. The battle culminated in the Mountain Ridge Protection Act, a legislative gut-punch passed in 1983 to shield North Carolina’s peaks from future desecration. By a twist of fate, the act went into effect just as SugarTop’s first residents were unpacking their boxes, turning the condos into a legal relic—a “grandfathered” abomination that could never be replicated.
Lane’s documentary doesn’t just recount history; it infiltrates the beast itself. He sneaks through SugarTop’s halls, camera in hand, capturing eerie shots of the looming structure against misty peaks. He interviews old-timers who call it a “scar on the mountain” and former developers who dodge his questions like seasoned crooks. The condos, still standing today, remain a lightning rod for scorn, their ten stories a daily reminder of what happens when greed climbs too high.
The Legacy of Avery’s Abomination
SugarTop isn’t just a building—it’s a saga of human folly and nature’s quiet victory. Lane’s film paints it as a cautionary tale, where the mountain, in the end, won by default. The condos may loom over Little Sugar Mountain, but the Ridge Protection Act ensures no one will ever pull this stunt again. It’s a story of defiance, where a community’s rage and a well-timed law clipped the wings of unchecked commerce.
Garrick Lane’s journey into SugarTop’s heart of darkness is more than a documentary—it’s a love letter to a region that fought back and a warning to anyone who dares to mess with a mountain’s majesty. So, next time you drive past that hulking eyesore on Little Sugar Mountain, remember: it’s not just a condo. It’s a battleground where greed lost its footing, and the hills stood tall.