What a nice morning! The wind had died - at least for a while - and I was comfortable sleeping until the orange sun began to paint the inside of the tent. I'd really hoped to see some deer in this spot, but was disappointed. It was time to venture on.
Whenever I have such a great sleep spot I almost feel like a fool for leaving it. But what choice did I have? Greensboro was calling. I packed up. Even though I said in the last post that I would keep the sign of my presence there a secret, I thought maybe I should show it anyway...
Okay, so I left my balls in a tree.
I leisurely found the same path I'd taken in, but was much more careful about how I walked out, avoiding the prickers as best I could. I wasn't even aware just what a toll they had taken on my pants and legs yet. I did get some idea when I reached around to my left back pocket and found it ripped all the way down. The temperature wasn't as warm as it would become in the next few days, so the cool air was definitely being felt on my ass.
Back on Wendover, I continued northeast. After only a couple miles I noticed a Target mall, that I thought I'd seen a Starbucks located in or near on the map the day before. So, I went up into the parking lot and into Target. I figured if there was no Starbucks, at least I could get a sewing kit.
As soon as I walked in I saw that Starbucks had one of their in-store branches there. These usually suck ass. The Wi-Fi is the mother-store's, meaning slow as an ice flow, no AC outlets, and not the typical professionalism that one usually finds at a stand-alone restaurant. In this case, all of the above was true. At least they did have two tiny tables. Appreciate what you have, and use POMA.
The laptop was pretty low on power, so a judicial use of time was required. I double checked where I was, my route, and the best path to a real Starbucks in Greensboro; one that would also keep me on track when I needed to move on from there. Looked like there were (strangely) no Starbucks in downtown Greensboro. The four locations marked the four corners of the most outer beltway of the downtown area. In a very similar layout as Charlotte, Greensboro was a rectangular downtown area, surrounded by concentric highway systems. And, as in Charlotte, I had the distinct feeling I would not be spending anytime in the highrise area of town.
Charlotte was a larger version which was truly surrounded by only semi permeable interstates, while Greensboro had complex highway systems of its own--both rectangular grids (squares actually), but the rough comparison holds up when seen at a similar scale...
Charlotte on the left, Greensboro on the right.
Neither downtown was especially Starbucks friendly, except along the outer edges.
And, that is where I would spend my Greensboro days, never venturing downtown.
It looked like Wendover was the street to follow. I'd forgotten my sewing kit, so I stopped at a Wal-Mart first and picked one up for $1.74.
Wendover led right to the northwest edge of town, with a Starbucks--as long as I could get off at the right exit. I didn't yet realize how fortunate this choice of location would be for another great sleep spot. I took off to complete the trek...
Lots of geese around, making their very relaxed and extended journey back up north. They picked
a great place to rest in. The weather in North Carolina this week would be especially gorgeous.
I was blessed as well to be heading north along with them, at a very similar pace.
I was getting closer. Traffic was picking up. Well, that was an understatement. I passed by a place called Christie's Cabaret, a private "Gentlemen's Club." A shame that such a beautiful building housed such a shitty, tacky environment of pimped-out, cookie-cutter shaped women doing the tired-out boring old things that they've been doing since the velvet-Elvis days of the 1970's.
So I am not misunderstood here (though I know I will be), as I spoke about with Hooters, my comments are no bad reflection on the women themselves. They are people--human beings, and probably very nice people. They make good money too in the "entertainment industry." What I find trashy and destructive to our already image-only obsessed culture, is the treatment of them as objects, pets, animals to be trained and perform tricks for ignorant men who reward them by throwing fish or dog treats in the form of $2 bills.
This is all my opinion only. But, I don't frequent these places for the same reason I don't pick up Playboy or Penthouse, nor watch Miss America... They all look the same to me! There is nothing unique. If we are talking about looks alone, yes, hair color/style, race might mix it up a bit, but 36-24-32, at five foot 10 it just invisible to me at this point in my life. I don't even see them anymore--not in billboards, fashion magazines, tabloid rags... The image is so forced and so ridiculous as to be vulgar to me.
Obviously I must be in the minority. Beside looking for intelligence first, then a kind disposition, people might be shocked at my aesthetic preferences for body types. It is also too bad that the disposition and intelligence-thing also seem to be what is lacking in the conventional cookie-cutter, beauty queen pets. I am generalizing of course.
But to maintain your "looks" in this area--and be "respected," requires you to act stupid and snobby? Who the hell is attracted to that?
Alright, I guess maybe this is an area I could be digging myself into a hole. Let me simply say that the more diverse women are--in every way, the more I am attracted to them. And the more they are nipped and tucked to fit into the slut-club image and attitude, the more they fade into the ugly background of homogeneous nothingness. [By the way, it would be nice if parents out there would reward their daughters for the way they ARE and not for buying into this circus culture of personal degradation and objectification.]...
A beautiful building with an ugly interior.
The road grew fast and furious. The sidewalks utterly disappeared and I was relegated to walking (and tripping) along the trash-strewn grass and fallen branches that passed as "the side of the road." It went on and on, up and down hills, over bridges with no room for walking, until as if mercy herself floated down beside me, I saw the green sign of hope: Starbucks...
The view of Greensboro from the Starbucks exit onto Battleground Avenue.
It would be the closest I would get to the downtown.
As I joyfully left Wendover. I thought to myself about how much my Journey had changed from exploring city centers, to just being in their general vicinities. I have to tell you, after a hundred cities - and though each is unique in their high rise architecture, containing their own majestic beauty - I just saw them as all the same at this point. My mission (or whatever) no longer included getting a hundred pictures of these glass and steel environments. My pleasure was returning to nature, people and simplicity...
That little mermaid, or siren, or whatever she was, always meant peace of mind and a
good place to work; one where I would never be told to "move it along, sir."
It was late enough in the day that I wasn't sure whether I could publish a post, but still needed the laptop charged and to locate a nearby sleep spot. I decided I would stay in Greensboro long enough to get a couple posts up and rest my constantly-aching left heel.
I worked there and accomplished some of that, before heading out to survey a sleep spot that was less than two miles away...
I saw the on this very first day I'd noticed Facebook's change to the "Like" procedure.
I walked a mile up Battleground, until I took a right onto Cornwallis Drive. Then I made my way about another 3/4 miles through some very nice upscale houses to Cleburne Street, where I turned left and walked the fifteen hundred feet to Cove Boulevard, turning left there and admiring just how much woods there was to the left of me.
It was truly ideal. Perhaps it wasn't the shining perfection of the last night's sleep spot, but I was overjoyed to see it. Just before the first street light, I saw a clear pathway in. There were no signs prohibiting anything. This may be more of a reflection on Greensboro's lack of a homeless population (at least in this northwestern part of town), or maybe it was just a more permissive place. Gastonia was a virtual prison camp for Nomads by comparison.
The path led into a 75-100 year old forest with ivy covering absolutely everything. It was beautiful, and besides having some unused mountain bike paths (with nice jumps, by the way) there were tons of sheltered spots, flanked by fallen trees. I was careful not to twist my ankle stepping over rotten logs and vines that kept hooking my feet. I found what I thought was the best place in the fading evening light.
Once there, set-up and in my tent, the pants repair was my first task. Upon removing my pants I was surprised to see just what the prickers from the day before had done to my thighs..
The back pocket rip was pretty extensive...
One of the best values a Nomad can find,
with plenty of items to handle all kinds of mini disasters.
All sewed up. Thank you Mrs. D. and high school home economics!
One of my few A+ courses--also learned the essentials of cooking.
It had been another exciting and rather long day of travel. My mood was turning back toward the light side of the force. Good sleep spots can do that. I put my pants back on and slipped into the sleeping bag.
As the narcosis of sleep crept over me, I talked to the Spark. It never talks back directly, but I know that it hears me and I can feel its reactions to my primitive concerns, anxieties and shoddy future plans. Most of all, I know it accepts my deep thanks. When there is a true connection of that kind, I feel the warmth of shivers rush up and down my spine.
It is not a person, but it truly cares. It has a Will of its own by being in contact with the Original Person, the Universal Parent, the Loving Creator.
And, when the psychic circuit is opened up with my sincerely appreciation for all the Spark does for me (some might call this a kind of worship), along with my apologies for being so stupid, childish and occasionally mean-spirited in my view of other people, a sudden, direct and unbroken line of Light connects my mind to the dwelling place of the Creator, straight to the very center of Infinity.
There is no time delay, no wearing away of signal friction.
And...
I felt the Creator smile approvingly. I asked what I should do next to improve myself--to maybe, possibly, find the path to a better future for me and my planet.
On this night, I will testify that I specifically heard one simple commandment: Just keep walking forward, and you will find...everything.
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