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We left the VanHoy's and headed further East, towards Raleigh. Remember, we needed to be in Raleigh to pick up Joya from Raleigh-Durham, after her 3 week EnCompass trip. We had one important errand to take care of as we left Harmony -- to pick up my cello from the music repair shop in Mocksville, a short distance from Harmony. I had been without my cello since Key West, when the heat, humidity and rough travel conditions managed to separate the fingerboard from the neck. The repair job looked top notch, and cost only $25, even though the shop owner had had to use heat-clamps over a period of days to straighten out the wood of the neck, which had become bent. Below, I and my cello are reunited.
Jody located a splendid state park called Falls Lake, located just outside Raleigh and only about 10 miles from the airport. As I wrote earlier, we have a penchant for state parks, since they tend to be woody, quiet, spacious, uncrowded, and cheap. This one was all of the above, and nearly empty, even on a weekend which is often a problem. As with most state parks, there were numerous rules and regulations, including a new one exhorting us to 'keep all pig cookers on the grass'. Well, we certainly would. If we ever saw one off the grass, we would be sure to right that wrong. We felt a bit sad that we had apparently forgotten to bring along our own personal pig cooker to lay out with all of the others we shortly expected to see lined up on the lawns. We unhitched early enough that we had time to accomplish some of the many errands which had been accumulating. The first order of business was a swim in the lake, as we had all gotten rather hot -- the temperature was in the high 80s. In asking about and studying the materials we had about the campground, we discovered yet another infuriating rule: swimming was allowed only in 'designated areas'. We drove over the the 'designated area', and were again appalled: on this gigantic, beautiful lake, we could only swim in this tiny cove, within a roped off area that extended perhaps 20 or 30 yards out on the lake. When we got in, the water was pleasantly warm although silty, but the depth at the ropes was only 3 or 4 feet. It was like trying to swim in a child's wading pool. Redeeming this experience were 2 pre-teen Hispanic girls who came over and struck up a conversation with Jody and Jordan. They explained that they had come from New York about 5 months earlier, and really liked the safety and non-drinking environment here, although they missed their friends. It was really nice to make such a personal connection with locals, something that has been lacking in much of our travels to date. Durham sports a pleasant, small food coop, extravagantly named The People's Intergalactic Food Conspiracy Number 1, Incorporated. The problem was finding it. We knew it was on Earth, in the North Carolina city of Durham, but our maps were woefully inadequate, and we spent a frustrating 20 minutes driving all over Durham. We finally pulled in to a Cracker Barrel, hoping to purchase a reasonable map, with actual street names listed on it, and there we encountered the miracle of Hale Sweeney. Hale was the archetypal Southern Gentleman. Jody bumped into him at the door of the Cracker Barrel. She had asked the Cracker Barrel employee who was washing the windows if they knew where we might find Chapel Hill Street. The employee did not, but Hale, coming out of the restaurant, did, and was eager to help us out. He got out his map (which he insisted we keep), and called the Co-op, asking them what cross street they were on. Then he carefully instructed Jody (chief navigator on this expedition) on how to get there. They chatted for 10 or more minutes, during which it came out that Hale's wife had had Alzheimer's disease for 17 years, and no longer had any mind at all -- could do nothing. This was clearly painful for him to discuss. She was in a nursing home nearby. Hale's daughter and family lived in Southern California, and the granddaughter would be attending UCSB this coming fall. Hale's extravagant politeness, friendliness, and willingness to share deeply personal and important information really endeared him to us. Here he is, below.
Armed with Hale's directions, we found the Co-op easily, and stocked up on $250 dollars of Intergalactic food, nearly all of it both organic and grown on our home planet of Earth. Several times while driving around Durham, we had seen signs indicating a ballpark. Jody looked in a little local weekly throw-away paper, and found that the Durham Bulls, a minor league team (AAA), were playing that night. We love minor league baseball, especially when viewed in the South -- Southern evenings are ideally suited to taking in a ballgame. In looking at the map (provided by Hale), Jody found that the ballpark was only a few blocks away, so off we went, arriving at 6:15 for a 7:00 PM game -- perfect timing. For a minor league team, the stadium was an impressive brick structure -- perhaps some tobacco money had helped out, there.
The Durham Bulls offense and pitching needed considerable work -- they went though 3 pitchers that night, and still lost 4 to 2 to the Syracuse Sky Chiefs. Below is a portrait I shot of the three of us enjoying the game.
Between each and every inning, and often between each half inning, there were silly little contests with cute little kids, or the Durham Bull's mascot, Wool E. Bully, or other such entertainments. God forbid we would have to just sit, think, and/or talk to one another. That said, the stands were nearly full, even though the Bulls are not the winningest of teams, partly due to all of the above-mentioned 'extra stuff' that was thrown in, including a marvelous fireworks show put on at the end of the game, for which nearly everyone stayed. Below, Jordan utters an appreciative 'ah!'.
We easily found our way back to Falls Lake, but had to park outside, since the campground locks to gates at 9 PM, and it was now 10:30. We had known this in advance. As we were organizing ourselves for the late-night hike back to camp, a car pulled up to the gate from inside, and disgorged an astonishing number of young people, who got into the cars that were parked around us. The driver asked us if we needed any help, and I said no, that we were just preparing to hike back to our camp. He generously offered to drive us back, as he had been shuttling other members of his church group to and fro for a bit, and was happy to include us. We immediately accepted, since Jody had moments before over-strained her back, and was having very painful muscular spasms. His name was Steve Hanna, and he was with a Mormon group of 75 or so camping at Falls Lake, too. He and his wife of 5 months were recently pregnant, and had met on the internet. He had moved out East from California to follow his wife. He, too, was delightful, generous, and open. We gathered our belongings (mostly perishable foods recently purchased that needed refrigeration), and said good-bye and thank you to Steve. As we prepared for bed, we all commented on the days encounters with others -- all so refreshing, honest, open, and generous. Blessings from the gods of the road. |
