Ruby Slippers

And suddenly its the day of the return flight, and I'm buying hiking shoes in wal*mart because they cost twenty bucks. And DVDs for a dollar. Thinking about the small fraction of this great land I've managed to see, hear, and taste.

Blighty. London. Gatwick. The North terminal. A little Sofa by a shop selling travel luggage, wondering how many people get to the airport and then realise they havn't got a suitcase.

Breakfast and a Pepsi on the road and a jet lagged blur of diesal fumes and high density traffic has led me back home, and There is No Place Like Home.

If I'm lucky, this weblog will remind me of the times I've had and the traveling i've done - My photo record certianly won't. And while people and places might fade away into the distance, I have with me now a record of what it felt like to travel and a storm in an iced teacup of memories to read and, well remember.

Reading this, as I just have, I'm amazed at how much of myself I've put on display in such a public forum. May we all be this open and honest to everyone who crosses our path.

And I shall conclude my last post with a smile and a nod to those that have travelled with me, those who i've left behind and those who waited for me at home sweet home.
---
roger6345@hotmail.com

...continued...

...And I finished just in time too, as the distant rumble of thunder rattled by bones as much as the sound of semi-automatic gunfire had before cooking and I remembered just how open and outdoors this land is.

As I stood on tree roots outcropping over the sandy shores of Lake Jordan, full and satisfied from my meal and preparing to gather water to douse the last charcoal of the fire, the treeline on the far shore dissapeared in a grey haze. Staring in disbelief as day became night and the haze soaked up more of the approaching treeline.

The water begain to foam and boil as the sound of rain filled my senses, heavy rain like there should only be sea and sky in this world. As I ran for the car, the humid air became a downpour that cut visibility to below two hundred yards and spelled the abrupt end of my camping trip.

So much as the land looks big to me, I must look so small to the land. Unable to tower over even the saplings, I have let go of the city that makes man men and stood in the shadows of natures authority over all things. 'Tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed, and may this garden grow as its whim dictates - with observation, not intervention from us.

Lake Jordan

Back in Wake County, I decided to spend my last night in the US camping out under the stars by the lake. Right enough there were grills at the picnic site, so I took out my Ham on the Bone steak and fired her up. I'm not sure if I went for the 18oz or the 22, but it was a lot of steak.

The picnic sites, like everything else you see comes with consumer choice - with freedom. And keeping it free I drove past the $5 sign at the unattended booth and parked up by the shelter, which was an undercover patio with a good fireplace and a few doublesize grills. It also had running water.

Flint and Steel got me sparks to light the grill, but my efforts were dulled by the book of matches in my pocket which eventually gave me fire to cook with.
Bereft of cooking implements I had fashioned a skewer and fork from live wood - although the fork needed some repair as it couldn't handle the weight of the steak. By the time I was done it had turned into a second skewer.

Juicy ham, fresh pineapple, red onion and french bread all make the most relaxing and filling cookout in its pleasant, open and free surroundings...

Open air nowhere.

And the Chevy has taken me here, To Crotan National forest in the shade of a few trees huddled around some picnic tables and grills. The picnic spot overlooks marshland, which like everything else tries to stretch to the horizon but is cut short when the forest thickens up.

The cool afternoon breeze is in contest with the warm afternoon sun, and together they dilute the city, and even the highway, out of the car, the park and from me as I sit in the open air nowhere and contemplate the open-air somewheres I've been through.

Right here, right now, the only sign of civilisation is an empty parking lot with wide diagonal, American parking spaces. One of them in the shade on the far side, has a sleek black Chevy parked up.

My thoughts turn inwards, despite the open and outward surroundings and I wonder, does this open land really feel this good or will I eventually become desentitized to paradise? The answer can only be that you should make the most of what you have.

There is no traffic noise, there is no anything. Its a forest growing, dying, aging. Its not possible to be alone here, because the forsest and marshland is with you, and it will be with me forever.

Swing Low, Sweet Chariot.

And what a chariot. The car is the smaller model, the 2.2. It lacks the luxuries of its big brother - electric windows and locks - but neither is on the feature wishlist of a holiday car.

It pulls away well, and the drive has been comfortable and easy. Inside the car there is a lot of space, and driving an automatic isn't so bad after all. I'll admit its nothing special, and the handling isn't that great - but I've not had to really negotiate any corners so its not been a problem.

But its sleek, and black, and has no front license plate. The all-girl strip-joint carwash at the begining of this road trip just made it look like a car commercial.

Best laid Plans

I decided not to stay too long in Wilmington, So didn't get to see much of the town. The drive back up to Jacksonville was uneventful but the feeling of distance as the miles clock up remind me of the home I've left behind and miss so much.

Once through Jacksonville again - blink and you'll miss it - I took highway fifty-eight to Atlantic Beach, to see the NC Aquarium. The tranquility of the water and the grace of the sea life fits comfortably with the local pace of life I've been racing past. The water always stirs something in me, and the anticipation of the NC Aquarium gives me renewed purpose to my quest.

The Aquarium is of course, closed for renovation. Sweet Cactus Chicken I didn't even consider that as an option.

Freed if the pressure of a destination, I find myself able to enjoy the journey once more and relax again. I am no longer racing toward the finishing post with any artificial incentive or reward to shape my decisions and guide my actions, but I am free to open myself up to this vacation of the body and mind and drive wherever my sleek black Chevy takes me.

Sleepy nowheresville

Yes the American Highway is an institution. I'm saying this from my vantage point at a riverside cafe, sipping pink lemonade and waiting for my Catfish and Fried Okra to arrive.

Spotting junctions on highways is something of a talent, and not one with which I am familiar. In fact spotting towns can be something of a chore - the only indication maybe being a drop in speed limit and the occasional gas station and diner.

And thats how I found myself here. I'm not sure if I'm in a town, but there is a bridge over a river that stretches so far the trees lining the far bank look like broccoli. There are a few fishing boats, and some houses. There is this cafe and the shop across the road is called "The shop across the road" on a sign above the door.

There are fishermen with straw hats sitting at the bar, a lot of iced tea being served and I suddenly feel like a City Slicker with my NCS baseball cap. I still wonder how much of this is real, and if when I leave they will all turn back to filling their accounts and manning their call centers. But of course they wont, this is thier honest and simple life.

Metropolis

My stay in the veritable Metropolis that is Willmington was sadly brief, and for the most part nocturnal. I stayed up for a while and then turned in to my fourty-dollar motel for a restfull sleep after a few hundred miles drive.

I decided to go the extra mile and see wilmington when I left jacksonville city limits, still uncertain if it was a town or truck stop. Wilmington, like jacksonville, just drops the speed limit on the highway and borrows the cariageway to form its local main street from which the rest of the sleepy town branches off.

Wilmington lies on the coast and gets the full brunt of the atlantic rage each year as hurricane season tests the mettle, and metal, of the local architecture. Unlike sleepy nowheresville further inland there are no houses made of straw or sticks in Wilmington.

There are no signs of the storms in town and the gentle folk of wilmington just get on with there lives seemingly nochalant of their towns approaching annual fate. Hurricane season had started a few days earlier, and there was a storm brewing on the cost off of Florida.

Open Road

...And open the road was. Queue all of the usual cliches about long, broad, straight highways with no traffic. As a driver in the UK you get used to a lane of traffic going slower than you and a lane of traffic overtaking - a constant stream of cars nose to tail.
Highway Seventy was a bit more relaxed about it, the slow driver I was overtaking must have been doing fifty-four miles per hour, so I squeezd the gas up to fifty-six and sauntered past at less than walking pace.

For the first time I felt the attraction of driving, and found myself understanding long distance truckers were indeed national heros. When the road is straight and your speed is constant, you do have a kind of freedom. And I've learned a lot about freedom, and liberty.

You can be confined to the prison of a drivers seat for hours on end and still maintain your freedom. Its an attitude, a philosophy and a way of life. and it's one I want to understand.

A man may live within a walnut and call himself the king of infinate space.

Beyond the Horizon

The drive out of Raleigh was easy at first. Having traveled to smithfield a few times I felt familiar with that little stretch of highway seventy, past Super-K and The Package store, GI Joes, The crazy horse and finally to the big Wendys sign on the horizon, and Wal*Mart.
And then, suddenly, Smithfield. If I drive one more mile East, it'll be the closest from home I've been since Baggage Claim. Except it won't, It'll just be one mile closer to the Atlantic Ocean.

I've forsaken my desire to follow the setting sun into the West, and headed for the coast. Partly because I'll only have a few days on the road but oddly because the Mountains are beautiful in the Fall and its still only June. You just can't hurry nature.

The exact combination of Truck stops and Gas stations faded away like so many cornfields and tobacco plants. But I hit the highway and was king, or president, of the open road...

... Brings us Peace.

... The freedom to make this journey has come at such a small and manageable price, that I am overjoyed to have made it. I am missing my loved ones but seeing - and meeting - loved ones in a way that balances everything out in my mind, if not my heart.

I have and will raise an honest glass to everybody I am proud to call friend, may the charm of being abroad be beaten only by the satisfaction of returning home and having warmth to share with all. Cheers.

Today has been the last time I will see Mary and Jesse for a long time. In all likelyhood years. And for this to happen but a few days after meeting them for the first time is going to be a strain on the transatlantic tie I now embrace as family. I would say they have become like family to me excecpt they are actually part of the clan, in-laws of some kind.

And lastly, An honourable mention goes to harbour, the NC charity that means a great deal to people I have recently met and they embrace as family anybody who needs thier help. May their future and fortunes be bright. Its a sad thought to finish on, but an uplifting one in the effort and dedication they show. May our strengths be as bold as thier example.

Patience and Tolerance...

All in all, I guess I came to the States for a lot of reasons. I came out here to find my brother, and I came out here to find myself. I suppose I was more aware of one that the other, but maybe I'm not sure which. This trip has turned from a well executed strike into Mainland U.S. into a crazy adventure with a few shirts and the promise of a credit card in the post. I didn't fly seat-of-my-pants with A Fistfull of Dollars but I've also done it (to date) without the safety net that a gold card has provided.

Being calm and having peace of mind has become increasingly important to me over the past few years, there is something to be said for being calm. For those who I haven't preached this too: Through Patience and Tolerance we find Peace. Being calm, and having foresight over hindsight has shaped my world view, beyond that I thought it would.

I've traveled this path for a while now and embarked on the journey because I felt there was just a Better Way of doing things. When calm became a way of approaching things, rather than a way of dealing with them the difference washed over me. Its a personal choice, I play very delicate chimes and use a red Buddha to help me focus meditation.

And my philosophy has brought many highways into view, least of which being Interstate-40 which is facing me now. Figurative or Literal I've empowered myself to take action by keeping free and clear, and am now able to do so without compromising my position...

A slice of fried gold.

Everything is relative. I've just had a large soda and it pretty much polished me off. The darndest thing is - I'd like to have the excuse of being empirical about it but really I just kinda wanted a large soada. Taco Bell were doing 1-dollar boxes of nachos with every large soda and they suckkered me in good an proper.

Oh, As a point of reference, firewater don't make you too hung over compared to weaker spirits. Curiously, these darn Americans seem to do things seriously and arn't too somber about it. Even GI Joes with their "Steal here, Die here" policy do so with such a cheerfull disposition that you know you are going to get service with a smile.

Today my credit card arrived in the post, and I had a good ole chat with the mailman - who as it turned out used to be stationed in the UK when he was in the military. He told me where he was stationed but it didn't sound like a UK place name - there was no "this-upon-that" , "-ford" or "-bury" in the name and my homeland geography isn't as good as it should be. But we stood and chatted dispite me being ready to rip open the letter tooth and claw to get at the little slice of gold that talks the language of Americans.

Taco bell, Like Dunkin Donuts, Breuggers or BoJangles was staffed almost entirely by black females. I don't think I should have noticed this, but notice it I did, perhaps its because people look you in the eye and expect social interaction with the customers as a perk of the job rather than a chore to be avoided.

Time and Tide

Simple pleasures come from simple places, like home cooked food (even when its not cooked at home), or today's finding-my-sunglasses-under-a-loaf-of-bread episode. I've been sampling everything I can, and just having to take my best guess and what and when to do so. In times like this, you just have to trust your senses...
...Alcohol numbs the senses, especially when its firewater. Firewater puts scotch to shame for its raw strength, but lacks the delicate malty depth. Its strong, and can't be humanly drunk without a mixer - which is just as well because being 95% proof it pretty much just tastes of whatever you mix it with.
I might water my next one down with some fine Kentucky bourbon.

In all likelihood, this may be my last 'live' blog. From here on in, I'll be noting them the good old fashioned way - on an A6 notebook with a sharp No.2 Pencil - until I regain internet access. It is tempting not to go, but the road beckons and I can put off my departure no longer. Its a shame to head to the mountains and miss out on the coast, but the tide will have to wait this time.

It dawns on me now that this part of my journey is about to come to a close, and I'll have to say a tearful goodbye to my gracious hosts Katherine and Paul Bennett. All of this adventure has been about saying hello to things, and the thought now of saying goodbye is not a pleasant one, nor a thought I have been prepared for.

Like all of us, their trials and tribulations have given them strength and make me proud to bare the family name. Their generous hospitality makes me strangely envious of their good nature and makes me briefly wonder if I would have been so accommodating for them; but the wonder is brief indeed. Without hesitation, I would put in every effort to welcome them into my country, life and even home. I only hope its not too long before I get the chance.

Muse and Music

Looking at the map, its pretty clear to me that I'm going to drive West along Interstate-40, and see how far the road takes me. To be fair, looking at the map I reckon I'll just go down to the lake, but listening to music while looking at the map, I've got a stronger urge to head for the hills.

I had to put music on because I found myself humming 'maybe its because I'm a Londoner', which although is better that the Oscar Myer Wiener song - and I do miss Blighty - I don't miss London, in fact NC is about the furthest from London I've ever felt.

But the music I'm listening to is stirring the urge to drive further afield and put a place to a name. There is some musical compulsion, rattling my blue bones to breathe in the air from a century of rhythm and blues roots, to go on a musical pilgrimage across state - after all, Brushy Mountain is halfway to Memphis, and from Memphis I could pass the TN/AL border to a Sweet Home Alabama.

I will head West into the golden sunset from this land, but I'll restrain myself too. For now I'll be content heading out past Asheville to Haywood County and perhaps there I'll see my Cadillac with Tennessee plates.

Where credits due...

I'm not on the road yet, because my credit card hasn't come through. I'm going to check the mail tonight and then if it hasn't come I'm going to have to hit the road with cash. It's not an overly joyous thought to carry that much cash around with me but thats just the way its going to be.

The weather picked up a little, but I found some eBooks and have been reading this and that. It occured to be that i've not read much for a long time but I didn't see any literature I wanted to buy when I walked to K Mart. I did fall for a pair of ten dollar shades, and some other homely stuff like sundried tomatoes and grapefruit - not mixed together.

Its an odd yardstick to measure civilisation by, but a little taste of home when you're this far away works wonders for the spirit. Speaking of spirits, what I havn't got any of is malt liquor, but I'll keep searching - as much as I like to be reminded of home, its also good to dive into local customs.

And its customs and rituals that make up the society around me. And one of the local customs is being friendly. I don't know if its a knee jerk reaction to social engagement or if society has drilled it into the folk around here or if that even makes it less sincere. While the members of the food service industry have asked me to have a nice day, so have strangers with no vested interest in my well being. I've got to give credit where its due, NC is a friendly place to be.

Rainy day

Today is the first day of hurricaine season. That doesn't mean much to me, except that hurricanes are big knots of malice born of storms from the ocean.

Like so many ills of this world, you can beleive they only happen to other people, or that they only happen to you. The two viewpoints arn't as different as they seem. Each year, during the summer I follow the storm tracker as hurricanes strike the east coast, and they forge past the town that I'm staying in now until they are doused by the cool Nothern air.

The southern air isn't cool. Seeing an overcast day I put my coat on before going out, now this seems like common sense because normally what happens is the temperature drops until it approaches the dew point and then the clouds let loose. Well here it seems the dew point raises until it approaches the temperature, and it just sweats all the rain from the clouds.

Any sense of familiarity washed down the gutter as the hot rain fell, but I'm upbeat despite the weather. This is turning out to be a remarkable adventure, and I'm all primed and ready for the long road ahead of me.

Visitor

While I've been enjoying my crazy adventure, it has also provided me with many opportunities to relax and reflect. Not just on that around me, but on that inside me too.

Today's drive around Raleigh took me through downtown and then up and around the belt line back down to Garner. Putting aside the predictable observations about how wide and open it is, I found myself traveling as much in my mind as I did on the road.

I was reminded of many other journeys I've taken. And Raleigh became a medly of cities near and far, like a patchwork city of memories that will soon itself be sewed together. Perhaps it was the overcast British weather we had today that made me feel at home, or perhaps it was the thread of familiarity from name-brands that have crossed the Atlantic that made me feel at home.

Then again, the road provided a sense of distance that the flight didn't so perhaps the experience now feels more real because the ritual of travel has been weaved into the equation. Whatever the cause of my transformation I am slowly becoming a visitor, living here for a short while, not a passer-by unaware of his surroundings.