North Carolina Lovely

September 17th, 2013

An early exit from the Virginia Beach KOA was executed---attempting to beat the work and school traffic. Getting out of VB was a challenge as there was no room for HD’s back end, which meant a lot of work on sidewalks, dirt, grass, and gravel. Once out of the city, I took country roads almost all the way to Elizabeth City. I crossed the Virginia/North Carolina border at 11 am and stopped at a border store to buy coffee and send iPhone photos to a few family members and friends to commemorate the crossing. It was truly a beautiful day and I enjoyed the country roads. A few wrong turns were suggested from the iPhone maps--”wrong” because they were dirt roads. I had to do some rerouting, but still made good time. 

No significant conversations occurred this day, which is sometimes a pleasant change in which I can just be quiet and enjoy the air. However, I did meet a retired gent about 10 miles from Elizabeth City on a recumbent trike. He was riding a “tadpole”, while mine is a “delta”. The tadpole has 2 wheels in front and the delta has the double wheels at the rear. He was out getting his mail from the PO down the street. He loves to cycle his recumbent and sometimes drives to Elizabeth City, with his trike loaded in the truck. Then he rides the pretty streets of that larger, picturesque town. He loves the outdoors and used to ride a bicycle. Now, he uses the recumbent trike and balance is no longer a concern.

I stayed at the Days Inn in a modest room. It was a quiet, lovely day, once out of the Virginia Beach traffic.

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September 18th, 2013

Google maps for cycling and for walking both suggested I travel almost exclusively on Hwy 17. However, the traffic was thick and it wasn’t always a tricycle friendly road through North Carolina, so I mapped my own route through neighborhoods and country roads. This turned out to be a great ride, even if I did have to consult the iPhone GPS regularly. I found alternate routes for this and that river crossing and, when I made it to Hertford, I called the NC-DOT about the Chowan River vs Albemarle Sound crossing. The lady from the NC-DOT referred me to the local police of the Plymouth, NC area. So, I called the police and spoke to Sargeant Forbes, who sounded like a helpful young man, proud of his official position. He told me he would find a way to help me. It was illegal for me to cross the Chowan River on Hwy 17, as it was a 70 mph zone at that point. However, it was legal to cross the 4 mile bridge over the Albemarle Sound. Yet, it was not considered safe. I had spent a restless evening the previous night, knowing that crossing this large waterway was on the agenda for today. I had looked up satellite pics of both crossings. The hwy 17 crossing was shorter but considered “controlled access”. Technically, that means no bikes. However, let it be known that, when no other option is open, it is legal to use these roads. Perhaps not advisable, however!  Well, the long bridge over the Albemarle Sound, a few miles south of the hwy 17 bridge, was an old bridge with short cement walls and no shoulders and basically just a 2 lane road with traffic going in opposite directions. I had watched a YouTube video of a group of cyclists who rode that bridge, taking up both lanes. I knew it was “bike approved”. 

So, Sargeant Forbes told me to phone him back when I was at the Albemarle Sound bridge, which is also called the Haughton Rd bridge and includes local hwys 32 and 94. 

When I reached the mouth of the bridge, I saw that, midway across the sound, the bridge held a steep grade. A cyclist sign by the bridge warned of low walls and high crosswinds.

Yikes!

I called Sargeant Forbes and he said he would see if any of his men were available and he would call me back.  If they were unavailable, I said I would just go ahead and cross it. This was ok with him as far as legality was concerned, but I think he was maybe a bit concerned. Right after we closed our conversation, a state trooper showed up, getting ready to close my lane of the bridge road so that a few slow moving truck-trailers with wide, heavy loads could cross. Perfect timing! He advised that I wait a few minutes so he could contact the truck drivers and then he would come back to close the lane. While the road was closed to other vehicles, I could cross at the same time! He took off across the bridge and, within a few minutes, Sargeant Forbes called me back to tell me there was a State Trooper getting ready to block traffic anyway. I laughed and told him I had met the trooper already and we were all on the same page. So, I was able to cross that low, narrow, long bridge over the Albemarle Sound in perfect peace. 

Timing is everything. So is a well placed blessing. I understand a few folks are out there praying. Thank you. Sometimes I feel as if I’m in a protected bubble, surrounded by a thin, invisible force field. 

After crossing the Haughton Rd Bridge, I cycled several more miles through quiet country highways and roads to Plymouth, NC. I used back roads in Plymouth itself but had to circle round to Hwy 64, as all the motels were along that major byway. I found a reasonably priced room at the Port O Plymouth Inn, which was next to a MacDonalds and the Piggly Wiggly. Perfect location.

The best part? Meeting Anna at the front desk of the Port O Plymouth Inn. A lively, vivacious lady with the coolest braided hair, which included a spiraled braid at the right forehead and balanced with a corresponding spiral in the back. She saw Henry David and had many questions. Her mother was sitting next to her and within seconds we were laughing and swapping stories. Anna and her mom have lived here all their lives. Anna’s mom said that her passion is her family and doing good things for others. Anna loves her children and meeting people on the job. 

Anna is connected in that town. She asked when I planned to leave in the morning as she knew the staff at the local newspaper. I told her 8 am, although I’ve actually been getting out a bit earlier than that, now that the days are getting shorter. I checked into my room, which was spacious and comfy and clean.  Anna called my room within 15 minutes, asking if I would be willing to stay just a few extra minutes in the morning because the newspaper editor/reporter was coming to interview me. Anna had also called the mayor (!) who sent his greetings and expressed regret that he had commitments and could not come meet me. 

Basically, Anna rolled out the red carpet. What a lady!

I walked to the Piggly Wiggly and picked up food to make dinner in my room, and settled in for a quiet night. In the morning, I went to the breakfast nook at the inn and met Jimmy, the morning clerk. The reporter, Bethany, had just called to see if I was around. Jimmy called her back and we did a phone interview. Apparently, she enjoyed the interview so much that she showed up about 15 minutes later to take pictures! Anna and her mom came by as well and we got a photo opp with everyone.

Before I left, Jimmy got on the trike and had his photo taken. He was a real sweetheart. He is 70 years old and says he never wants to fully retire. He enjoys meeting people when he is working at the motel and this gets him up out of the house, which helps keep him physically and emotionally healthy. 

We shared hugs and warm good byes and I left the Port O Plymouth Inn, feeling as if my heart had been touched by these wonderful people.

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Thursday, September 19, 2013

HD and I cycled off from Plymouth around 8:30, going through city streets to avoid Hwy 64 where we could, and making it out of Plymouth about 9 am. We followed mostly quiet roads the rest of the day, with intermittent mileage on major highways. The farms have been harvesting the corn now. Here in this part of North Carolina, I saw a lot of cotton and peanut fields. I started seeing signs for boiled peanuts, which is a local southern favorite. I saw fields of a plant that looks like corn, with the long blades like corn stalks. But the plant is shorter and the grainhead was thicker, not like a corn tassle. This is grain sorghum, which grows in tropical and subtropical climates. I guess I’m not in the north anymore!

On this day, Henry David and I cycled to Kinston. This is a fairly large city with an exuberant population. I received catcalls, whistles, waves, shoutings of good cheer and blessings, and smiles throughout the city. As vibrant and friendly as the people may be, the town looks somewhat ragged and poverty striken. I found a room at the Super 8. Well, it really wasn’t the Super 8, although the sign was still up. Apparently, it changed hands a few years ago, and the lady at the desk told me the motel was closing in 3 weeks. Not even a buyer. Right on the highway, but conveniently located to the grocery store and basic chain fast food joints, this little motel had definitely seen better days. But it did offer a pauper’s continental breakfast in the morning. Since I am traveling cheap, this was fine with me!

But, there was one issue that really saddened me about this Super 8 that wasn’t really a Super 8. I don’t even know its real name. That’s not the sad part.

There were over a dozen feral kitties in the parking lot in different stages of poor health. Quiet, hungy cats, limping, moving slowly, looking hopefully up to passersby. Kittens with oozing eyes and noses. Some too weak to even move out of the driveway. My heart absolutely broke. They would be incredibly easy to catch, neuter, and disperse to homes. But, in this poor town, apparently there were no takers for the dozens of homeless cats in the streets. 

I was advised to put the trike in my room or I would have a feline hitchhiker in the morning. 

It was enough to make me cry. 

In the morning, I cycled away from that sad motel with the sadder cats, who watched me leave as they remained behind, sick and hungry.

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Friday, September 20, 2013

For lack of options, I cycled to Jacksonville, NC on all highways, primarily on US-258/NC-24. These were actually fine roads, perhaps because they were quiet highways with enough of a shoulder that I could listen to my iPod and groove along. I went to the Cabin Creek Campground a bit to the south of Jacksonville, NC. It was along the highway and next to a good convenient store. The tent area was located way at the far, back corner of the campground. I was the only tenter there, which was really pleasant. I was surrounded by tall pines and deciduous trees--perhaps elms? Each two sites shared a covered pavilion with 2 picnic benches. In the middle of the tent area, next to the two tiny latrines, was another pavilion with electricity available. I wrote a bit on my computer while hooked to the electricity. The poor cell phone signal and lack of internet that far from the campground office limited my ability to listen to Pandora or check maps or contact family. But it was peaceful and even nice to be so isolated for an evening. It meant curling up in the tent to read. And an early morning. It was a big day tomorrow, as I had plans to meet my longtime friend Carola in Wilmington. I could hardly sleep! Well, some rain in the middle of the night meant moving my tent under the pavilion closest to my tent, so that was a bit of an interruption.  That, and the fact that all that afternoon and way into the night I could hear the wargames from the nearby training center: rapid-fire artillery like machine gun fire, explosions, and pops. I had learned that the coast from Virginia to South Carolina were thick with military installations. It was becoming familiar to see fighter jets zoom overhead in tandem. It was a bit unsettling--these signs of military prowess. I’m proud of our military, yet saddened by the fact that we humans are so uncivilized. Ah well. 

I still enjoyed the Cabin Creek Campground, with its tall trees and shade, explosions notwithstanding.

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Saturday, September 21st, 2013

HD and I got on the road at first light, zipping first to the convenient store next door for coffee. It was a misty morning that turned into rain, so it was a wet ride all the way to Wilmington. However, nothing could dampen my mood because I was going to meet Carola! I met Carola around 1991. We worked together at Alamogordo Physical Therapy, rapidly developing a strong friendship. Because I had moved around so much as a child, I had not made any strong female friendships since I left a few best friends behind in my youth as we moved. While the transcience of my youth made it difficult to create strong friendships, it made me very adaptable as well as comfortable in my own company. These are two necessary qualities for a long term solitary journey such as this one that I am on. I am grateful for my history.

But, for today, I was seeing Carola! I had not seen her for years and, since about 1992 when she moved away, I had seen her only three times. But, she is a true friend and will always be so. 

So, rain and wind only spurring me on, I zoomed into Wilmington and checked into the Comfort Inn by about 2:30 pm. I did my exercises and showered well before she arrived at 4:30. From then on, bliss. Simple bliss.

Sometimes it is not what you do together, but just that you ARE together. Does that make any sense?

Carola said that a sign of a true friend is that, after many years apart, once together again, you can pick up where you left off as if time stood still. The depth remains. The love is as strong as ever. This is our friendship.

Carola works with seniors and specializes in dementia. She has her own business, providing personal care for the elderly. It is called CarolaCares. That’s about right! While she has several clients, she spends Monday through Friday taking care of a lovely woman with end stage Alzheimers. We have talked extensively about what she has learned about treating people with this horrible affliction. She has learned how to make their last months and days comfortable, peaceful, and free of fear. She is a patient woman, full of empathy and generosity. Carola grew up in post-WWII Germany and her experiences have shaped her into a woman who appreciates the value of life and how important it is to live a life with dignity. Having lived without the daily comforts you and I may take for granted, she lives very simply but appreciates beauty and the richness of life. 

Carola brought a picnic basket and a cooler full of homemade salad, cheese, crackers, hummus, and fruit. She even brought a bottle of champagne to celebrate our friendship. When she arrived in the late afternoon, we chatted like a couple of cackling hens until we crashed around 10 pm. The next day, she drove me to see the Fort Fisher ferry I would be taking to exit Wilmington. Then we went to the beach and walked in the sand and continued our conversations. There was a lot of family happenings to discuss and we also talked “shop”; she never ceases to show me something new and precious. 

Carola left in the late afternoon so she could return to work the next morning. What a gift to see her on this incredible journey.