A Living Magazine - Day 278 - Homecoming - South Hill to Meredithville

In the morning I looked out through the tent flap and saw that the clouds were moving in. From my screenshot of the weather forecast I assumed it wouldn't begin raining until late at night. But it had been a couple days and I was beginning to be concerned that the pattern might have changed. I rose and packed up then got back onto Route 1 to walk into South Hill proper from the edge of town. I was excited to get to the library there, charge my laptop and check in with folks online. It was Friday and there would be no strange hours. Google said they were open from 9:00 a.m.to 5:00 p.m...

Nice brickwork.

Judging from the flies, probably hit two days earlier.

I got off at the exit that would lead me in town. I never know what I'm going to find in a new town, and South Hill was the first downtown area in Virginia that I would be walking through...

This property was for sale. Neat bay window structure on this four square brick house.

It still surprises me when smaller towns have so many buildings, but so few people walking around. Such was the case here...

Of course there were a good number of cars driving around. I was hungry and needed another Gatorade for the hike toward Alberta on this day. I had no intention of spending the night, but I would if my work at the library lasted into the late afternoon. For now, it was a matter of finding some lunch...

I went to the Quik Fuel along the street above (the connector to  Routes 1 and 58).

They had a bunch of hot food. The guy in front of me bought spaghetti, and it had a large

layer of cheese on it. Looked too good to pass up, so I got some. They threw in garlic bread too. 

Walking to the library I noticed it didn't look very alive...

I ate my food across the street, under a roofed structure...

The author, not realizing that there were AC outlets right behind him. Doh!

Once finished and full of spaghetti, I crossed over the street to find this...

Of course! Today (as I write this), I noticed that Google now lists the library as "Closed".

Now, I had little choice but to just keep walking north. One good thing about not being able to write during the day was that I could cover a lot more distance. I was making good time, and if I could make it to somewhere near Alberta on this day, I'd end up a day ahead of schedule. So, I set off again...

Interesting about the circular layout.

In Christian tradition, the day before had been Maundy Thursday--the day that Jesus celebrated the passover dinner with his disciples; the so-called "Last Supper." He would be arrested that night, betrayed with a kiss and go through the barbarous trials throughout that night and into the next morning--beaten, stripped naked, then draped with a mocking kingly robe, and had a crown of thorns jammed onto his head.

It was on this next day (ironically, known as "Good Friday"--actually, a distortion of "God Friday"), that he would be made to carry his own cross beam out of the city gates of Jerusalem to a nearby execution site call Golgotha (or Calvary). Here, he was stripped again, then laid down upon the crossbeam and summarily nailed to it, then lifted to the already-standing vertical beam where his feet were there-by nailed as well.

Despite whatever I think of the religion that subsequently appointed itself in his name, the account of his unjust treatment and excruciating death has always made me weep whenever I have read it. The thought that such an innocent and loving man would be betrayed by a friend and have to die in this manner, while being ridiculed and taunted by an ignorant public is, frankly, still overwhelming to me. That he faced this outrageous injustice with such noble grace and unshakable faith, coupled with the fact that he was actually expressing his love with action, by practicing one of his greatest teachings - "Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends" [John 15:30] - has made a profound and lasting impression on me in my life. As I've tried to express in this lesser Journey of mine, it has guided my own ideals. I WILL live for my friends, and if it is required, die for them. In my personal belief system, that would assure fusion with the Spark--the two of us would become one.

I contemplated all of this as I made my way past the empty churches. I guess I'd never realized before that some of them drape a black cloth over the cross; one that is replaced with a white one on Easter Sunday, when Jesus fulfilled his promise to resurrect himself, proving (for Christians anyway) that every person can live again after this material life...

The cross--draped in black. And, once again in my life, I did shed a tear...

A dwarf periwinkle (Vinca minor).

Now, here was a strange site: Freedom House Ministries, notice that from where I shot this,

two power poles in the distance make crosses just over the doorway.

Another example of "The Incidental Arrangement of Objects"

(to be elaborated on in a coming essay).

Cemetery on the outskirts of Spring Hill. Notice the three crosses.

It was about twelve miles to Alberta. And the next two miles had several farms located along the road. My favorite was this goat farm...

Hi Billy!

Upon reaching this sign, I got some perspective on just how much farther it would be to Petersburg. And, with the eight miles I'd already walked on this day, the ten miles left to Alberta looked pretty unlikely...

This would be an easy county name for a Mainer to remember where he is.

Just after passing by the above sign, I felt a "snap" and Saggy fell off my right shoulder, dangling by the left strap. Shit! Although I had fastened the tops of the backpack straps way back in Salem, Oregon, I never thought the bottoms would give out. But we have learned by now - haven't we? - that the unexpected should be the most expected.

I removed the pack and set it on a guardrail. Although several people had offered to buy me a new pack along this Journey, I guess I just could not give up old Saggy--the wonder pack. Now, I started to wonder about my own sanity in that decision. Observing that I still had plenty of nylon strap below the padded part, and a fastener to work with, I took out my knife and cut a slit all the way through the padded part where the failed stitching had been. Then it was remarkably easy to fit the nylon strap through the slit, tie it twice in half-hitches and then run the end through the fastener to hold it in place. In short, it was now even stronger than it had been before, and still adjustable. I will do the same thing if the left strap goes.

Relieved that I would not be one-shouldering the backpack all the way to Petersburg, I pressed on for another four miles. At that point I really did need to stop and rest. It was almost 6:00 p.m. I came across a potential sleep spot. It looked great from the road but, upon entering the woods, I quickly found myself in a very tangled mess of vines and small trees. I decide that before I actually found a place to set up the tent I would make a video of the process to show you what it's like in the uncertainty of the woods (a short glimpse of the backpack problem precedes it)...  

When I wasn't able to stand up any longer, I crawled into the tent and fell asleep. It wasn't very comfortable, but it was better than nothing. It would rain heavily during the night, but stopped by morning, as is indicated in the video above.