A Living Magazine - Day 276 - Homecoming - Henderson to Middleburg

What a difference a night in the woods can make. I woke bright eyed and bushy bearded. After packing up, I decided to take a walk around Henderson taking photos of anything that stood out as interesting, until the library opened at 10:00 a.m. As has happened with most of my first impressions about new towns, my negative view of this place from the day before was adjusting to a more objective one... 

A look back at the sleep spot.

There was some really neat traditional architecture here. After all the regions I've been to in this country, I still prefer the house designs of the Atlantic coast. There is something about the old age of the eastern US that ties European styles with the innovative designs that are purely American. The Colonial Period lasted a long time when it comes to architecture. Houses are still being built to reflect Colonial aesthetics, though the newer houses typical of the last forty years have tended toward chintzier construction and missing details that are very important to the way a house looks.

For example, in the next picture, observe the crown molding that underscores the peaks of the gables. It is thick and multi-layered. Also, check out the eyebrow arch molding over the front porch. This house integrates many different styles with its high hipped roof combined with a gambrel (on the left side)...

In this next shot of a traditional American foursquare home note again the detail and thickness of the molding around the large front porch. Here in the Mid Atlantic states porch post are often squared and tapered. They also triple them on the corners--something that adds a great impression of strength. These were a feature I liked about the Conrad's house as well...

The downtown streets were lined with old fashioned storefronts, often with impressively detailed facades and brickwork. We take these things for granted. It is nice to notice them every now and then though. A high degree of effort goes into such construction, as is demonstrated by the white and red buildings closest to my position...

Nearly every town I've been to has wall murals. I've really grown to appreciate them...

There is just something about all the trees in bloom that seems to characterize all of

what it means to be here in North Carolina.

The outside of the library entrance. I love the bird who happened to fly into view.

Again, a marvelous example of thick crown molding. The multi paned windows around the porch

add so much class, and also we see the squared posts between the varied number of windows.

I like the extra long eave returns on the main building.

I kept walking around the area as the library was about to open...

Ha, ha! The Eleventh Commandment.

Nice example of a brick Federal Style, with an unusual six bays on the second floor. 

The following mosiac steps ran along the side of a church. They were practically hidden from view. I had to take a shot of each one...

I noticed that the time was 10:05 a.m. So, I turned around and walked back to the library...

I took some shots of the inside of the library. It really was quite nice...

Working until late afternoon, I was able to publish a post and scout the route to Norlina (the last town in North Carolina) and thence South Hill, across the border in Virginia. The coming trek eventually to conclude in Petersburg would be a massive 100 mile undertaking through a lot of remote areas. I planned two extra days in anticipation of rain. I also knew there would be very few places to get online, and even fewer to charge the laptop. It turned out, however, that there would be nowhere at all to do either, and the rain would come earlier in the week than I had seen online.

I was both nervously anxious and filled with the excitement of the challenge. I had never had such a potentially long amount of time without internet contact in the whole 17 months I've been traveling. This would either make me or break me as a walker.

I set out at around 5:00 p.m. with the intention of getting six miles up Route 1 by nightfall, to the tiny town of Middleburg--located just between (in the middle of) Henderson and Norlina (perhaps the reason for its name?), where I planned to camp in a cloverleaf at the intersection of Route 1 and I-85 (cloverleaf camping is the best if it can be done)...

Neat sight--a lone flowering tree.

As with the day before, seeing that thirty eight miles to South Hill, plus the additional six miles it would take to reach Norlina after my camping on this night was intimidating. That would be nearly 30 miles of walking. I could do it, or get close to South Hill the next day (I've never walked more than 35 miles in a single day), but it would be a slog. One thing at a time though. That is how to take these long distance walks. After my 20 miles the day before, I was definitely pushing myself. It was good to only have the six miles on this day...  

Made it to Middleburg as planned, and watched the sunset.

There was a store located mercifully right at the cloverleaf. I bought a lemonade (Quik Stop has large fountain drinks for $0.78--something I would take advantage of many times in the days to come). I took off Saggy and stood on the lawn beside the parking lot, looking over at the woods where I planned to camp...

When I turned around and faced east, I saw the strangest sight. It looked like a fire in the distance rising far above I-85. Then, it got brighter. It really reminded me of an atom bomb exploding, mushroom-like...

For just a moment, I got a strange feeling, like perhaps Washington DC had been bombed. But my imagination cleared away, as I saw the clouds part to reveal a beautiful and full orange moon rising...

It was a good time to head over to the woods. I crossed the off ramp of the highway and made my way in. It was very nice in there. Not overly clear of brush, but well camouflaged to stay near the edge. Cloverleafs are simply the greatest spots when it comes to a security profile. They are surrounded by (usually) one-way traffic.

This means the chance for animal encounters is very slight. Human interaction is even less likely. And, cars are distracted by the complexity of the area, the light blindness of their own headlights, and the inability to stop and check out any glimpse they may get of me. I know this all sounds slightly paranoid, and perhaps it is. But, being careful in this way has allowed me to camp undisturbed now-hundreds of times. I am proud to say that I have a perfect record in this regard.

I set up the tent and stood around partially to dry my shirt, but also to commune with the Spark, which seemed somehow closer on this night, as if maybe it were ready to partner with me on the walk to come. I had a very secure and confident feeling about what I was doing; something that hasn't happened to this degree in several weeks. I'd overcome a spiritual growth spurt that was somewhat painful in that time; going through a lot of doubt and nearing a kind of resentment and disinterest in my project. That was gone now...

I climbed into the tent at around 9:30 p.m. and quickly fell asleep in the comforting confines of my sleeping bag. As I drifted off, it was hard to believe I was so far from Wake Forest and my time with the Conrads in such a short amount of time.

A Living Magazine - Day 275 - Homecoming - Franklinton to Henderson

After I woke, packed up and hit the road, I realized what town I was in. This water tower was right next to me all night... 

Welcome to Franklinton!

It was such nice weather and I'd slept well. I had no idea what a crappy day I was about to have. The passing traffic looked benign enough at first...

Ugh! Sixteen miles... And, I would walk another five.

In the second part of the following video we can see - in the way the guy wires of the power poles move as I pass - that they create a phenomenon that I will be writing an essay on at some point. I call "The Incidental Alignment of Objects"...

These swallowtail butterflies were everywhere, many were flying, and some were road casualties.

In the middle of nowhere. The thought, "What's the point?" did cross my mind. Ha!

I always knew those mice were peeping toms!

Slow going. And, Norlina would be the next day. Puts things in perspective.

Haunted mansion. With a surprisingly well-cropped lawn.

A church driveway, lined with trees that were covered in clouds of flowers. Very nice!

This sign was well-written.

And, with a wonderful introduction to what was to come, I saw this...

I was about halfway into my trek to Henderson, when cars ceased to move out of the way, and instead gave me very little room to walk. I switched over to the grass for a while, which made life just that much tougher. I could see the historic markers better though as I entered the tiny town of Kittrell...

This town essentially was one school and the obligatory three empty churches that I barely noticed as I passed by. It was around this point that I started seeing "T" on the highway. Weird, and completely random...

What does it mean? I hope it is nothing presidential...

This was a strange den of some kind, made out of grass and mud. Ideas what it might be?

Now, things began to get ugly. A driver passed and screamed "Fuck you, bum!!" This is the kind of thing that usually only happens in New England. Other drivers were oblivious to my presence. I can tell which ones are texting because they slowly drive toward me. In most of my Journey this has been the case infrequently, but today it happened over and over. Other drivers wouldn't even try to move a few feet away from me. They just didn't give a shit at all.

I saw a small turtle on the shoulder, and thought I'd help him to the grass, but as I approached I realized there was no need...

Mummified.

As I took the above picture above, some asshole laid on his horn as he passed behind me. Coupled with the mean spirit of the drivers, the needles began to pile up. I don't take pictures of them anymore, because I don't want to defile my blog unnecessarily. Besides, if you've seen one you've seen them all. There were almost as many in the few miles approaching Henderson as in the entire walk to Highpoint a couple weeks before. Natalie had mentioned that Henderson had one of the highest incidence of AIDS infected people in the country. This was now becoming obvious, as was the reason.

Just before I took the exit to Henderson, the driver of a white construction van purposely drove right at me and then swerved away, laughing and looking at me through the open passenger's side window as he passed. I was totally pissed by this point. Finally, I got my chance to get off of the highway...

Did I say, finally?!

At the end of the exit I saw a road with no sign indicating which direction the downtown was located. So, with a 50/50 chance of choosing correctly, I didn't, and instead took a right and not a left... 

Graffiti under the bridge where Route 1 passed over.

About a mile and a half into my wrong direction I saw a sign on the other side of the road with an arrow pointing in the opposite direction and the word, "Henderson." While it is humorous to me now, it threw my mood into a deeper dive. I'd walked sixteen miles, and now had to turn around and go back to the exit and then an extra mile into town. I saw a store along the way past the graffiti bridge, bought a lemonade, and let Saggy and the sopping wet back of my shirt dry a bit but not very much...

Pulling the cold sweaty backpack back on my back (ha!), I continued toward this seemingly mythical place called, Henderson...

What the....?

Even tree bark was fitting my mood to a "T."

An actual, and real live Drive In!

Great place to bang junk and have unprotected sex,

just to keep the AIDS stats and the citizens high.

Sorry for the cynicism. It was that kind of day.

One does have to wonder.

Yippee!!

The mayor's house? Just kidding.

Only you can prevent billboard eye sores. Ha!

I was still raging, but it was circling around to indifference and mockery under my breath (just like these captions). It is the way I deal with a community that seemed to hate me from five miles away. Of course, this wasn't the case, but I still used it as an excuse. I was having revenge, even if it was only in my own mind...

Some Coke with your heroin?

Half the drivers on this road are scratching their heads.

As I passed through the center of town, I saw some remarkably nice spots for sleeping and recorded the information and locations in my simmering brain. I was almost at the library by this point and was looking forward to expressing my dismay publicly at Facebook. When I have a bad day and feel like I've been shit on, my feelings run toward the hatred of all mankind--or something like that (womankind, not so much)...

Grow little flowers, grow. Enjoy the fact that you only live for a season.

And this place could use a little bit of beauty.

When I reached the library, I almost fell over backward. It was gorgeous! It fascinates me that a town as poor as this one seemed to be, would build such an astonishingly beautiful building for the homeless, misbehaved children, and little old ladies to go to each day. This was the main entrance...

The Grand Hall of the Henderson Public Library.

A diamond in a mud puddle.

I immediately vented on Facebook. I see no need to repost it here. It was negative, snarky, ranty and all the other things that embarrass me on the morning after. But, very frankly, it was well worth it as it lowered my blood pressure and made me feel a lot better. 

After processing some photos, and seeing it had grown dark outside, I left and bought a big 8.1% lager as I walked back to the best looking potential sleep spot. I found the area again and scooted across the tree line into the woods to find a very nice and relatively clean area of pines and a thick padding of pine straw (pine needles) on the ground. I got the tent up and thought I'd taken a picture of it, yet later discovered I'd only planned to, but had forgotten.

When I was done with my lager and had cooled down to a slightly buzzed and more goofy state of mind, I climbed into the tent and immediately fell asleep on top of my sleeping bag. Somehow...I'd made it.

Henderson Sleep Spot