Weeks 47-50 - Whitehall, Durham, Holden and Myrtle Beaches, Hadley

The ranch was suddenly a lot less lonesome when SE and TB returned from their trip to New York. Several days of driving had left them pretty exhausted, so I cooked up a homecoming feast. SC also joined us for dinner, having just come back from Washington to work on his electrical project. We ate leftovers for the next couple days while they settled back in. SE and TB were surprised at how bad the wildfire smoke had become, although I'd gotten pretty used to it by now. It even seemed to be interfering with their internet connection, which came in over long-range
WiFi and seemed to drop out every few minutes. SC filled in his trench, and then I helped him pull heavy wire through the conduits while he lubricated and lifted it into position on the other end; a very satisfying job. His work done for the moment, he headed back west to Washington. On Wednesday afternoon, I struck my tent, organized my stuff in the garage, and packed for my trip back to the Carolinas. It was tricky to decide what to take so as to be somewhat independent but still traveling light, but it helped that I still had a lot of spare gear at the other end in my storage unit and at my parents house. I did pack some of my kefir grains into a pill bottle with powdered milk, along with a complete kit for fermenting them. I slept on the couch and woke up before dawn on Thursday morning. As the sun rose, SE and I got in the truck to drive to the Bozeman airport, and we had such a great conversation that the hour-long drive felt like nothing.

This was my first air travel since March of 2020, and I was expecting it to be somewhat worse than normal, because I figured all the precautions would amp up the general crankiness and crowding. But I was pleasantly surprised at how chill everyone seemed. The masks felt like a pretty decent idea even for ordinary times, given how much I've gotten sick after flying in the past. In my experience, flying comfortably is all about making peace with discomfort, so what's one more? People still stood close together though, and it made me realize how much more orderly it's felt to stand in line since social distancing started. Maybe it's only the illusion that a line is going faster when it moves at six feet per person, but still. Also I've always hated those little air vents above the seats and I usually turn them off, but this time I figured I'd leave it on and point it straight at my head to form a positive-pressure zone, and it actually felt kind of pleasant. I read Bright-sided by Barbara Ehrenreich, which was an excellent antidote to air travel's veneer of wealth, sterility, and cheeriness, and spent the rest of my time dozing, thinking, or looking out the window. The layover in Chicago was extended by an hour due to a delay, which gave me time to eat a leisurely lunch, and before I knew it we were landing in Raleigh.

The moment I stepped into the jetway I could feel the hot, wet North Carolina summer greeting me with a sloppy kiss. It felt really nice, as if the air around me suddenly had weight and substance, and I realized that I actually like humidity, at least when it's warm out. The official airport taxi service had shut down, so I took a ride-share to my friend AA's house to pick up Kiddo. Looking out the window, the foliage was shockingly lush and green to eyes adjusted to Montana's dry and spare landscapes. The trees seemed to tower overhead and every un-manicured edge was choked with a tangle of shrubs and vines clamoring for light. It's always an interesting sensation to see the place I grew up as strange for a brief moment, and it can only happen after some kind of physical or psychic travel. But it soon faded and I settled into the feeling of home. I grew up under these trees and I think it's always where I'll be most comfortable. When I got to AA's house, I put on my helmet, which had taken up most of the space in my "personal item" and hopped on Kiddo to ride to Durham. There I checked into the hotel, bought some milk to feed my kefir grains, and then fed myself on a felafel burger.

My main agenda on Friday was to prepare for the trip to the beach. I spent some time at my storage unit doing routine maintenance on Kiddo, gathering supplies, and turning a pair of backpacks into improvised saddlebags. In the afternoon I walked around town to do some shopping and stretch my legs. On Saturday morning I was up early and on the road just after eight, heading towards the beach at Kiddo's top speed of 38mph. I stopped for two surprisingly good meals (breakfast at True Flavors Diner just outside of town and lunch at a little diner in Salemburg) and a nap in Tory Hole Park outside of Elizabethtown. I really enjoyed the lush fields I passed through: the dark and muscular tobacco, cotton leaves like hands reaching for the sky, and tall corn decked out with tassels. By four I was approaching the beach, and it seems that all the rental houses now have their check-in time at four on a Saturday, which creates quite a concentration of traffic. SUVs loaded with chairs and boogie boards were passing me constantly for half an hour, and soon I came to the back of an incredibly long line of stopped cars. But I simply rode onto the shoulder and passed all of them, not without a certain smug satisfaction at the tables being turned. Forgive me, it's a very rare event that I pass even one car, let alone dozens. I got to the house just after my parents. They'd brought my hammock and a new camo tarp I'd ordered (since the one in Montana was pretty shredded), and I spent some time setting up an outdoor shelter for myself under the porch.

AP, GB, their daughter A and her newborn baby brother M arrived, and BF, and they started unpacking massive amounts of food, including probably at least fifty pounds of tomatoes just picked from the garden. We ate the traditional peanut butter and tomato sandwiches of my people and caught up. The weather forecast for the week showed a lot of rain, and it was not wrong. Soon after I'd rigged my shelter, there was a huge downpour. JP and his mom arrived after having driven slowly through it for hours. And then, well, it was a week of beach vacation with no need for shoes or pockets, very pleasant but not that exciting to tell about. The periodic storms brought some of the most fantastic skyscapes I've ever seen, and there were also stretches of sunny weather where we lounged and read novels under shades and went swimming. My parents' chosen family has been going to the beach together every year for more than four decades, first camping, then all in one house, then more and more houses as the children started families of their own. Now we're up to four houses total. We all gathered on the porch for tapas to celebrate AP's 40th birthday, and the next day AP, JP, and I joined GB in celebrating her 34th birthday by doing 34 burpees, 34 speed squats, and so on. AP brought a vintage copy of Hero's Quest and several quests were played. AP and JP are my oldest friends and the closest thing I have to siblings, since we started playing together as babies. It was great to hang out again with plenty of time to talk about random stuff.

Just when we were fully settling into vacation mode, it was time to go. Saturday morning started with torrential rains that flooded half the road, and I packed up and waited for a break in the clouds. I had left my rain gear in Montana because it's so bulky, and now I was slightly regretting that decision. But I had to go sometime, and as soon as the sun came out I rode away and headed south toward North Myrtle Beach to visit my friends the M-S family. As soon as I got onto highway 17, I spotted a wall of dark cloud ahead and there was no way of avoiding it. I was quickly soaked, but the weather was so warm that it wasn't actually uncomfortable. It was kind of strange to feel water running down my back and draining out through my pants legs as if they were pipes. The rain didn't last long and I spent the rest of the 40 miles drying off until I was merely damp. I arrived in the early afternoon and pitched my tarp and hammock in the front yard, the only place where the trees were really favorably positioned.

Since I was there last, the side yard was being cleared out in preparation for an addition, the trees had leafed out fully, the summer garden had sprung up and faded, and the fingerling goldfish from the store had settled into the koi pond and grown to be at least eight inches long. Otherwise it was much the same, and I slipped into the rhythm of working all day on the back deck, going for a swim in the pond, helping to fix dinner, and having long conversations about everything from geometry to spirituality until well after dark. Every day I swam one more time across the pond and back, until I was up to 900 feet. The green shade under the towering oak tree, the smell of the fresh water, and the babbling of the little waterfall above the fish pond were so relaxing, and I began to feel really rested, to the point where I got excited about travel again and started looking at maps. I kept forgetting to go to the beach, although one day I did take a walk across the burning sand and for a few miles along the waterline, just to absorb the atmosphere of it. It was quite crowded compared to Holden beach, which makes sense given all the high-rises, but people seemed in good spirits, mostly relaxing in the sun or the shade of large umbrellas. Some piled into inflatable "banana boats" towed by a jet-ski, and were ferried out in zodiac rafts to go parasailing.

After a week and half in North Myrtle Beach, it was time to head back to my family's land in Hadley NC. Wednesday morning had a possibility of rain in the forecast, but it wasn't raining when I woke up so I decided to chance it. Just as I finished packing, a heavy shower started, and I had to wait it out inside, but as soon as it passed I hopped on Kiddo and took off, hoping I could manage to avoid being drenched. Looking ahead, I could see massive thunderheads, but since both of us were moving, it felt a bit like playing a game of Frogger on a massive scale. Once I strayed into the edge of the storm and got sprinkled on, and once I parked outside a tire shop and waited for the dark clouds ahead to get out of my way, but I managed to stay pretty dry, and by early afternoon I was safely past the storm system. The sun came out and the sky was filled with puffy clouds. In the fields, the crops I'd seen on the way to the beach had matured: the tobacco leave turning bright yellow, the cotton blooming in delicate white and pink flutes, and the corn becoming dry and brown. I stopped for groceries in Pittsboro, and then rode the last familiar miles back to the place where I grew up. As I went down the gravel driveway into a tunnel of shade, the day seemed to advance by a few hours. Everything here was even more lush and green than anything I'd seen since landing in NC. I spent the next few days sleeping in my hammock at night and working in my parents screen porch during the day. I visited JH in Bynum for a swim in the Haw River and a delicious dinner. I ate raw veggies fresh from the garden: tomatoes, okra, purple beans, and watermelon. Several thunderstorms rolled through and I thoroughly enjoyed them. I've got one more week here in the woods and then I'll head back out west.

Things I Learned

• Halotherapy is a thing. I saw a new "salt cave" in Durham and had to find out what it was. According to proponents, a little salt in the air is good for the lungs, and a session in the cave is equivalent to a couple of days at the beach. I had no wish to go into the cave, but it was nice to know that my beach vacation might have some extra health benefits.
• What's left of Atlantic Beach is a tiny strip of land about 1/4 mile wide, completely surrounded by North Myrtle Beach, but only connected to it via the beach and US 17. All the other roads that would connect end at a fence that seems to encircle the whole community. Is it any surprise that this geographical oddity is an artifact of the Jim Crow era? Walking along the beach, it stands out because the dunes are undisturbed by buildings or walkways and more of the beachgoers are Black. Driving along 17, there's a notable concentration of strip clubs, cannabis shops, and thinly-disguised brothels. I would love to have seen it in its heyday as a center of Gullah business enterprise though. How long it will hold out against gentrification is anyone's guess, but there's an empty lot selling for nearly triple the asking price of two years ago.
• It seems fructose might be hard on the liver (paper). Most non-artificial sweeteners are about half fructose, except for agave "nectar", which is more like 75% fructose, and rice syrup, which is almost entirely glucose (in the form of maltose). Nobody is saying you shouldn't eat fruit though. There's also an entire website dedicated to rehabilitating fructose's reputation (fructosefacts.org but I won't link to it). You know, in the public interest.

Wonderful Things

• The endless intricate complexity of the world when seen from high above.
• Sitting under the shade of blooming crepe myrtles, with the evening light shining through the pink blossoms.
• After a thunderstorm, fireflies lighting up the mist between the trees.