Beyond the Blog Day 16 (May 13): Country Roads Are Taking Me Home

Our tribe of two grew by 50% today when Matt rejoined us.   With his eternal optimism and good cheer, Matt was always great to have around even if I didn’t express that appreciation very well. 

This was a leg that I was looking forward to, and the day did not disappoint.  This was what I had envisioned..pure blue skies with puffy white clouds, long stretches of country roads that almost look like tunnels of green…..all of the best of that the Carolinas has to offer on a warm spring day.   This region of the Piedmont is also special because of the unique combination of art and agricuture that define the region.   The potteries of Seagrove have a rich heritage, originally locating in the area due to the availability of good clay in the earth.  Over the years, more potteries and galleries have opened because it’s now become an epicenter of folk art, like Brasstown in the western part of the state.  Small, independent potteries with a bohemian vibe dot the landscape, as well as nationally-recognized pottery centers that attract buyers from all over the world.   All of this artistic activity is set in a landscape that is still basically farmland.   Its a lovely contrast and was a joy to experience.

 

Some of these highlights, as I recounted in the blog post for that day, were purely about nature.   Early in the day, as I was rucking through hilly farmland, I came across a tree filled with vultures, all spreading their wings in the early morning sunshine as it burned away the mist.  I had never seen so many of these birds in such a pose, altogether.   I’ve always loved vultures, and as they perched in a large dead tree, all assuming this wings-out position, they looked positively poetic.

 

As I rucked through the center of town, I saw the Seagrove school system across the train tracks.  It was May, so the kids were still learning, but all virtually.   Schools look so forlorn when they are empty…..they WANT to be filled with kids and all the chaos they bring.   This year, they were mostly deserted and sadder for it.    

 

 

One of my favorite spots on this day was in the next village of Jugtown.  First, that is one of the best town names ever.   But second, we found a spot on top of a hill overlooking fields of green, adjacent to the Baptist church and in the parking lot that also served the church cemetery.   It would seem like a ghoulish place but in fact, was filled with light.   I really loved the vista overlooking these waves of open land.   

 

I crossed over several old bridges, only concrete barriers separating me from the flowing brown water below.   These were charming, quiet spots that you wouldn’t give a second thought to if you drove over them.  They are not designed for pedestrians.  Why would they be?  They are in the middle of the countryside where nobody walks.  But this is exactly what made such spots so captivating...I could stand on this bridge and look down to see blue herons or even egrets wading through the eddies, or hear the calls of birds and other creatures hidden deep within the watery landscape, dappled with sunlight that barely penetrated a deep, rich green.   Such places were magic, and I would slow down or stop altogether just to absorb their essence.

That evening, we stayed in Sandford, as we were making our way east, and this hotel would be our home for two days. The town was about the same size as Asheboro, perhaps a little smaller, but nonetheless it had an active town center and a busy highway passing through. After we checked in, I wandered over to the gazebo off to the side of the parking lot. Here, I met several guys staying at the hotel for weeks, even months, as they did their labor-intensive jobs of keeping the machinery of this country running. One guy I met would start his shift at 11 pm and go until about 5 am...his job? Cleaning the insides of meat processing lines, literally getting into the slicers and dicers and cleaning meat gunk off of blades. Can you imagine? Another guy was a scrap metal reclamation expert, breaking down railcars, rails and other equipment for re-processing. These men were wiry, tough, and probably one paycheck away from disaster. They lived in this hotel for weeks on end, got drunk pretty much every night (or day, depending on their shift) and then returned to their dangerous jobs the next day. They were nice enough guys, actually, as long as you didn’t appear to have a superiority complex. But for the vast majority of us, these people are unknown, unseen, and unappreciated. I’m not saying I’m any better just because I talked to these guys, but the experiences I had with this population (and there were many, during the Ruck) certainly opened my eyes.