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