A Living Magazine - Day 246 - Homecoming - Lexington to High Point

I just wasn't sure at all about the rain. I had another twelve miles to walk if I wanted to get to High Point by early afternoon. I packed up in the dreary bog, putting the tarp/fly away wet again. I knew this wasn't good, but I had no choice. I was saving up for a room the next day and night and figured I could dry everything then. I was walking at about 7:30 a.m...

Not much of a shoulder, but better than I'd had for a while.

To give some perspective: As far down the road as you can see is equal to one mile.

I had twelve times that far to walk.

Usually I see a needle or two around the edges of towns, as I've shown many times. But this walk would astound me...

High Point - in metaphor.

My intuition told me that these were due to only a few people driving this way each day. I hadn't read up much on High Point, but it definitely seemed an apt name for a junk user to settle in. I would learn from a Facebook friend that there was a particularly bad problem in the so-called Piedmont Triad region (Greensboro, Winston-Salem, and High Point). Every town has its problems. People banging heroin didn't intimidate me at all. I was sad for them, but they are really harmless folks. I am much more concerned about the prejudice I would or would not face with my backpack, along with my growing irritation over the car culture.

Some towns and cities have a lot more to see besides box stores and fast food restaurants. But, often--very often, the downtown area is just a place to pass through on the way to Kohl's or the Outback Steakhouse. Instead of a mall located in an area of the town, it is now half the town that has become a mall itself. Four malls will be situated together in one place. People will shop at one, then get into their cars and drive a thousand feet to the next, and then repeat the process until they have suitably bought everything they need, and even more that they don't need. Then, they eat at one of the socially approved restaurant chains and head home. As I've mentioned many times, there is no need for civil engineers to add sideways in these mall areas, as only unfortunate non-drivers would ever use them. What would High Point be like in this regard?

Had to take a picture of the first non-muddy stream I'd seen.

I hadn't realised - until Fay mentioned it - that High Point was a furniture mecca.

Finally, I passed three exits, saw the "Downtown" sign and took it. It was so nice to get of of that highway. I ended up on Main Street. The first thing I saw was this...

This photo above is not a Modern Nomad. He does have a tent, but he seems to have been there for a long time and let his trash pile up all around it. The true Nomad would never camp in public view and always takes care of his/her trash each day, respecting nature and his fellow citizens. This guy just didn't care about showing everyone his homelessness and through indifference or revenge let his personal surrounding get trashy. Frankly, I was surprised that he had not been moved along yet.

A growing list of parameters for responsible Nomadism was crystallizing in my mind. This lifestyle should be light, trashless, invisible, at one with nature and one's fellow citizens who choose to live in houses and apartments. The Modern Nomad should show respect for every thing, every animal, and every person he/she encounters. He/she has the extra responsibility to defeat the stereotype of homelessness, as dirty and socially unacceptable. The Nomad is not homeless.

I continued down Main Street looking for anywhere I could charge the laptop and get online and find the night's sleep spot...

Atrium Inn. Perfect representation of me! Ha!

That's right!

This reminded me of my friend's little girl. After two terms as president of the US

and a term as Chief Executive of the coming world government,

she can get right into the tire business!

It was due to rain anytime now. When I'd gotten about halfway up Main, I saw a Pizza Hut advertising a lunch buffet for $6.99. I went in past a sign showing Wi-Fi. The server showed me to a booth with an AC outlet. I was set up!

I worked there for about two hours. I also located a Starbucks further up the street and headed to it after filling up on salad and pizza. Once there, I settled into a table and found an area nearby that might work as a  sleep spot. They were open until 11:00 p.m. By about 7:00 it was pouring out. I studied Intellicast.com's radar intensely and found that there would be a break in the rain around 9:00. Setting my watch alarm, I was able to get quite a bit done that evening. When the beeping alarm sounded I packed up quickly. Right on cue the rain stopped. I had about a half hour's window to get to the spot and set up the tent.

I was not in a good frame of mind. The overcast, the rain, the needles, the racing traffic was doing its thing to me. By that, I mean that these things build up. It isn't so much that I stew on them as it is how frequently I am reminded of them throughout these gray days. I had no need of stewing to still reach a rather depressive state. I was growing tired of it all. Though I only had four months to go, the last eight months seemed to be more full of light than these last few weeks. I could only hope that things would get brighter.

I walked the short distance up Main then took a left onto Paris Avenue, practically jogging to the end of it where I found a muddy road leading by a large house and into the woods. It was not ideal in any sense, except for being hidden. After clopping through the mud and searching some of the nearby hills for level spots, I found an unlikely one beneath a tangled stand of dead trees. It was far enough up the hill that I would not be inundated with water.

Everything was set up, including the blue tarp I use to reinforce the tent's tarp/fly. The tent staked down nicely, because the earth was soft and I was in a trough-like depression (often on flat ground the stakes won't hold). And just then, the sky opened up and a heavy rain began again. I had been dreading this night and figured everything would be soaked. But, because I'd set up in between showers, the tent was dry, I was relatively dry, and even Saggy stayed dry...

My one and only goal at that point was to simply make it through another night. I had used the last money on my card to reserve a room at the Motel 6 for the next night. All I needed to do in the morning was check in with Joyce to make sure that the ID thing was not going to be a problem. It didn't take long to fall asleep after plugging Starbucks paper towels into the corners of the tent floor just incase.

High Point Sleep Spot.