Beyond the Blog Day 22 (May 19) - The Last Charge of the Highlanders

It was late February in 1776 when the Scottish Highlanders slowly advanced in the lifting fog of Eastern North Carolina.  At 1,600 strong, they were confident in their abilities and fiercely loyal to the crown.  Who could possibly face the terror and human destruction wrought by their broadswords? What had these rebels done to indicate that there would be any possible resistance to the armies of King George?  Their leader, British Colonel Donald McLeod, had steadfastly marched them to the coast, where they would rendezvous with an even larger contingent of redcoat regulars.   They only had to wade through the swamp, cross the bridge at Moore’s Creek, and destroy the patriots.

 

They drew broadswords and advanced, first slowly, but then accelerating into the battle cry…”King George and Broadswords!”  Faster they went, until their world exploded in flying lead and shot.  They faced over a thousand men pointing musket and cannon directly at them from breastworks across the river. Straight into the trap they had charged, with bagpipes playing.  Now their broadswords were useless, bloodied with their own gore.  Patriot commander Richard Caswell had brilliantly maneuvered his enemy into a relentless kill zone by luring the Scots with a staged abandoned campsite.   There was no retreat, and nearly a hundred of the noble Highlanders were cut down, dying in the murky swamp, while half of their force was taken prisoner.   Their commander, McLeod, riddled with bullets, left a new bride as a widow.  

 

This was the last broadsword charge ever by the Scottish Highlanders the the beginning of even deadlier combat

 

Six weeks after their defeat, North Carolina became the first colony to vote in favor of independence from Great Britain.

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Green grass and high tides forever

 

We checked out of my favorite hotel in Lumberton (and that is saying something) and headed about 45 minutes south, to the town of Kelly on 53.   The plan was to pick up more or less where we left off near White Lake the day before, and I was hoping to work my way to Long Creek, within spitting distance of the coast.   Of course, it did not exactly turn out that way, but it was a good day nonetheless.   My biggest challenges were overall fatigue, uncooperative toes, and a heat index that seemed to be rising every day.

 

The start of the day was beautiful, though.   Miles and miles of flat green farmland with huge puffy clouds floating through a Carolina Blue sky.   It was quiet, except for the occasional rumbling of passing trucks, laden with Eastern North Carolina product...poultry, hogs, lumber, and scrap metal.  

 

Open roads and not a dog in site

 

I was feeling better after the previous day’s epic meltdown, although it was a long day and my legs were tired.  Mentally, I was in a better place.   Running on the flat farmlands was a big help as well, as I could see far down the road.  Notably, there were a lot less dogs chasing me..in fact, hardly any.  Maybe it's because they had huge farms to patrol and one smelly runner was not worth their while, but in any case, it made for some stress-free rucking.   Matt stopped a few times to get some good footage of the dramatic landscape as the light changed with clouds moving in.   I was rucking adjacent to Colly Creek, which feeds into the much larger Black River, which itself flows into the Cape Fear river.   It is a beautiful, stirring, deeply quiet place full of hidden things living in the marshes and swamps.   I love this kind of wetland because it is so still and dark, but also wild and slightly dangerous.

The mysterious and ancient Black River

 

As our crew proceeded down SR 210, we passed over the Black River, where Monty had the chance to do some fishing.   That man did not waste an opportunity!  It was a little tough finding a good spot, simply because the river is so marshy with few solid banks.   But the fishing must be good, as I passed two gentleman casting lines right from the bridge.  I’ll take this next bit directly from my blog:

 

As I was running over Black Creek, there were two older country gents the fishing from the bridge on the other side. They glanced over in a friendly way and I blurted out, for no reason at all, "I'm running across North Carolina!!". They looked at me, smiled and said "yeah we heard of you".  And immediately go back to fishing.  

 

I loved this whole exchange, and it happened with many of the people I met who were actually busy doing something real.   Fishing, farming, running a store...some lunatic with a backpack was just a footnote in their day.

Monty: If there is a fishing hole, this man will find it.

We reviewed the map and decided to turn into Moore’s Creek National Battlefield, and it was an amazing experience.   The sense of history was palpable, with well-tended monuments to the heroes of the battle (including the ill-fated Highlanders), walkways, a reconstructed bridge, and a great visitor’s center.    I had time to think of the epic battle fought there and hopefully captured the moment with the intro to this post.

 

Much of the park was shaded, and I was starting to fizzle out in the rising mercury.   My feet were really starting to come apart as well, so I wanted to stay close to Monty in case I had to bail.    He and Matt both encouraged this decision, as they sensed the exhaustion I was feeling, which also affected my ability to make reasonable decisions.

 

“I have five miles left?”

 

In any case, the afternoon at Moore’s Creek was memorable, for the history, the natural scenery, and the camaraderie our tribe shared.   This was the last full day with Monty as he would be leaving the following evening, and I was already feeling his imminent departure.

 

On a happier note, we would be spending the next four days in a really nice hotel, thanks to the determination of our next support driver, my neighbor Michael.  We were going to stay in another two-star special, but Michael (a veteran business traveler) stepped in and upped our game.  Can I just say what a pleasure it was to stay in a business-class hotel?  Just for a few days?