Caleb wakes me up. Then he’s off to a late muster at 8:30 for training. We forget how laid-back shore duty is. It’s no wonder some people fight the system to avoid a ship’s long hours and their inevitable deployments. I’m in no rush, as the family has a delayed start to the day as well, and Caleb has the car.
We find parking at Ocean Breeze Waterpark at 11:15. We ride the 1,000-ft-long lazy river twice, giving us about 20 minutes of relaxed tubing with a steady current. I ride the longest water slide two times, then nap in our rented cabana to pass the afternoon, while Caleb and Robert chat quietly.
Jake and Nicki Jessi, Caleb, and Kris, prepping the cake
We leave as the storm arrives and drive through flooded streets. Back at Kris’s house, Caleb carries a chocolate cake with 60 candles for Robert’s birthday (even though it’s not until December). There is also a carrot cake and pineapple ice cream that will count as dinner. Jessi takes the kids to Chuck E Cheese.
Caleb wakes me up so I can shower, and we can unpack the Tribute. Caleb makes biscuits for breakfast while Kris preps ribs and bread for dinner. I have a biscuit with gravy and another with my new jelly (of which no note or photo exists of its flavor or attainment location). Jessi shows up hours later with Jake to join Vicki in taking the four kids to the zoo and aquarium.
I chose to stay behind and watch the brothers work on the Tribute (not sure what was needed besides a possible oil change). Caleb and I went to Mt. Trashmore to walk around and reminisce about throwing the ball down the 60-foot hill with a 25% degree slope multiple times for a young Sparky, before any of us had met Piggy. We go back to the room for a nap.
Back at Kris’s, I mow part of his yard, as I find gardening soothing labor. Invader Zim was on when the kiddos returned. I eat the salad, asparagus, and beans. Tristan and Sammy have hot dogs while everyone else has ribs. We watch an episode of Lucifer, which first aired in 2016 and lasted six seasons, while the children decompress before their bedtime at 8:45.
We pick up Kris at his house since his family won’t be joining us today. I forgot my water bottle and sunglasses, so we went back to get them before going to the hotel, where Jessi’s family and Robert are staying. I had oatmeal with scrambled eggs and helped Caleb with his cinnamon waffle. We get to Historic Jamestowne, and Caleb and I get stamps for the passport book. Jessi rented a car big enough for us to drive the loop tour together. We had the kids and adults take turns reading the informational signs. I enjoyed Jake’s voice impressions of the historical writings.
Twenty minutes away is Colonial Williamsburg, where we were given the military special, which got the family in for cheaper. There’s a free deal reserved for Memorial Day and Veterans Day, and everyone can get free admission on July Fourth. This saved us over $30. We explore the visitor center a bit before “leaving” the 21st Century. It’s less than half a mile to the historic area. I get to see an Eastern tiger swallowtail, the official butterfly of North Carolina, Georgia, and Virginia. On the bricks is a brown marmorated stink bug, an invasive agricultural pest introduced to the region in the 90s.
This critter, in the order Hemiptera, is commonly called a true bug that shares its piercing-sucking mouthparts with cicadas, leafhoppers, bed bugs, etc. I leave his fate to the waiting spiders, assassin bugs, and passing birds. No flower is left to bloom alone. We are greeted with anise hyssop (purple liquorice) and Joe Pye weed (pink clusters), a garden of orange marigolds and white globe amaranth, and lush greenery, with yellow and white daisies beside shades of purple globe amaranth.
We spend the day learning about the kitchen, larder, wine cellar, woodworking, bookbindery, mercantile, and apothecary of the 18th-century. We walk through a house, and a toy store, and we find modern ice cream, too. We stop for lunch at Chowning’s Tavern, tour the courthouse, watch the blacksmith, and hang out in the grass while getting to see the Fifes and Drums Marching into Evening. We get back to Kris’s house twelve hours later. The big kids pillow fight while Jordan cuddles with Uncle Caleb. I show him my photos from the road trip here while we wait on laundry to finish.
I started driving at 4:40 am after listening to the service attendant crack jokes and try to charge me for yawning, and the truckers talked about their rigs. Today is my last day on the road before meeting up with Caleb and his family, so I take a direct route to the Virginia border from Knoxville. Once in the state, I stick to the two-lane road for half the distance before getting on the 460, which will deliver me to Hampton Roads. This metropolitan region includes Virginia Beach, Norfolk, Chesapeake, and Newport News.
It’s still 68°F when I stop for a walk at Creekside Park and find myself on the Virginia Creeper Trail, the old Abingdon Branch of the Norfolk and Western line. Here, in Damascus, is one of the six remains of the water tanks that the steam trains required every 40-50 miles. There are only concrete pylons left as the tanks were dismantled after the diesel locomotives were introduced in 1958. Another notable path is the Appalachian Trail, which passes through Main Street, making it a great spot for Trail Days.
This event has been held every year since 1987, the weekend after Mother’s Day (in May), for thru-hikers, trail supporters, and enthusiasts. This town of less than 800 residents provides a place for some 20,000 vendors, hippies, and musicians to gather and celebrate the outdoors and the gear that makes surviving the wilderness more bearable. I feel like a local, being one of the few people along the creek or in town. I get to meet a guy and his three rats, though only two said hi, as rats do.
After this, I climb the 23 stairs and continue climbing over roots and logs towards Iron Mountain on the official AT. The southern terminus is Springer Mountain, GA, so I’m roughly at mile 471. Hiking in the forest is always a great adventure, especially with mushrooms with the names: amethyst deceiver, the sickener, and golden oyster. I see a millipede hiding in the moss, but it’s harder to identify. The Crooked Road is Virginia’s Heritage Music Trail, another for Trail Town USA.
It’s 330 miles of venues and festivals that keep the history of blind balladeer Horton Barker, Sparkplug of The Hill Billies, the Sweet Brothers, the Rugby Gully Jumpers, and the old-time banjoist Jont Blevins alive from when they played in the 1930s. They performed for many venues — the White House, on the streets, at fiddlers’ conventions, and local radio shows. There is an annual competition that supports a scholarship for learning traditional music — old-time mountain, country, and bluegrass.
I pass a groundhog (Marmota monax) which is a species of marmot also called a woodchuck; they are defined as a large, stout-bodied ground squirrel. I also see a Little Free Food Pantry, a community program started in 2016 by Jessica McClard in Arkansas. They have since spread to Canada, Italy, the Netherlands, Australia, and Thailand, with some including a cooler or fridge, a microwave, and others including toiletries, baby products, and pet foods.
Grassroots initiatives can meet the local needs with a speed and personability that big government isn’t structured to provide because they’re better at building highways and hospitals (just not always on time or where they’re needed). Enter, the Blue Ridge Parkway. I stopped at a few views along the way and watched a raccoon cross lanes of traffic and make his way towards a tall field of green before we both carried on. I wish I had hiked there, but that would have put me in Virginia Beach too late.
I stop for more caffeine, a mocha Bang and a coconut water with espresso, to power through three hours on the highway. I get to Kris’s house around dinner time, have salad and pretzel bread, and then the kids, nieces and nephews, have s’mores. We’ll get back to the hotel room that the Navy is paying for hours later as his sister’s family and dad go to a nearby hotel as well. Even though today was long, I’ll stay up longer than necessary.
I take another shower, having taken one last night, and being grateful for the opportunity. I toast the hotel’s English muffin and use my own peanut butter and jelly before continuing east. This morning has me crossing the Mississippi River, where an artist in 1954 had the idea of building the pyramids of Giza at two-thirds their size for their namesake in Egypt. The tenth-tallest pyramid in the world was built in 1991 as a 20,000-seat arena. In 2015, it became a megastore, complete with a hotel, restaurants, a bowling alley, an archery range, and an outdoor observation deck.
I saw the Bass Pro Shops sign, and that was the last I thought about it. Ducks Unlimited operates a museum on waterfowl hunting and wetlands conservation inside the store. This pyramid would’ve been worth the visit, but sometimes the better looking the building, the fewer people allowed in, especially in a room with a view. This is when the adage, “It never hurts to ask,” would have come in handy. Instead, I drove further north up the river to Meeman-Shelby Forest State Park. I avoided the red velvet ants, which sound petworthy, but are also called “cow killer” for their extremely painful sting.
The park is a welcome stop after two-plus hours in the car, but the attack of mosquitoes is always an inconvenience. It just matters what mood I’m in, how much I want to be stung, since I know I’m in their territory and yet refuse to wear deterrent spray. There are more hiding in the car from last night as I make my way back to Memphis. I got lucky at one intersection because of a faded sign from another direction, but I’m approaching a stop sign and get lucky enough to stop a girl in her truck with my lost-looking face, who asks which way I’m going.
I respond, any direction that doesn’t have me living in this neighborhood. She smiled, told me a right at the stop sign, and then a left at the next one. Thank you. This led me past Overton Park, where an eight-foot-tall bronze monument of E.H. “Boss” Crump was erected to honor his significant role in Memphis politics. I continue on to the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art, where the current exhibit, Brooks Outside: Outings Project, takes painted characters and puts them on façades around the city. Casabianca has installed his paper murals in over 50 cities, with their museums as the inspiration.
I could have looked for the twenty pieces in Memphis, but I chose a list of historic houses that the lady behind the counter was kind enough to print out. I drive by slowly, like I’m in a parade, waving to some folks as I take pictures of houses with a porch swing, lion statues, fireplaces, and golf course-like yards. They are at least two stories and built mostly in Tudor Revival, Queen Anne Victorian, and English Gothic styles, which explains their ornate designs. The Annesdale Park Subdivision was the first in the South to be planned upon metropolitan lines (for urban growth) in 1903.
I let the idea of one day living in a house with stained-glass windows carry me through the morning. It helped that no neighbor’s dwelling looked like the other, unlike many an apartment or high-rise in dense city living. I’m glad I’ve not had to live near the chaos that is downtown in any of the states I’ve called home. In Bahrain, we lived near American Alley, where parades and parties were the norm on holidays, weddings, and home team wins. By the time I reached the Pink Palace Museum and Planetarium, a building that appears to be at least three (large, historical) houses combined, I was hungry.
Clarence Saunders, the founder of Piggly Wiggly, started construction in 1922. The building was incomplete when he went bankrupt in 1928, and developers gave it to the city. It became the Museum of Natural History in 1930. It was renamed in 1967. I detoured around a very slow train and found myself at The Four Way Soul Food, named after the four-way traffic intersection. The church bus was still unloading, and these three guys decided to eat elsewhere, but Stein’s didn’t look as good. Now, I’m wondering as I eat soul fast food if I made the right decision.
The green beans were fine, the cabbage and black-eyed peas delicious, but the okra wasn’t cooked right, and the cornbread came from the cheapest box. Oh well, that’s Memphis, and after my zig-zag route through the city, it’s time to refuel. The first station I stopped at wouldn’t let me pump with a card or cash, so I went across the street. I turned onto the 70 and stopped at a gas station for caffeine and childhood treats – Star Crunch and Nutty Buddy. There is a lady selling watermelon from her car. I told her I don’t have a way to open it, and she said I could drop it on the ground like her sample.
Cypress Grove Nature Park, outside Jackson, TN, is popular with the locals, each bringing their four kids, but it’s too close to the highway for maximum peacefulness. The boardwalk is nice, but part of it is closed off. I take in the calm that standing among trees brings and head off to Montgomery Bell State Park. Here, the local cross-country team, along with some parents, is taking advantage of the weather to get in a workout as one couple does some speed walking checking for stragglers. The shade and the breeze under the trees, the kind of beauty that makes you fall to your knees in love.
I step over roots and pass by their trees, remnants of giants standing taller than me. My skin so sweet and that warm blood inside attracts all the bugs to bite at my feet. Swollen they may get, I’m stubborn to put on shoes so I can feel the grass on my toes. The bugs may irritate me but that won’t keep me from appreciating the million little things that go right every day so that I may walk and breath, the sun rise and the trees grow. How lucky I am that I may share some joy with others. I feel inspired here amongst the fallen trees and the spiderweb glistening in the evening sun.
I drive to the outskirts of Knoxville with a full moon that would do just as well to light my way as the bright sun seemingly minutes ago, if not for headlights and road reflectors. This would be a good night to ride a bike on an open lane with no traffic. I passed through the time change and didn’t notice until I saw a bank sign while I was getting gas. I will decide in the morning whether I will drive through Kentucky or North Carolina to get to Virginia, or just approach directly.
TheJessicaness 