A rare solo sojourn

After several months of…either “the new normal” or “freakishly altered reality”, depending on how you choose to look at it…I remain both grateful that so far our clan has been spared from personal contact with the dreadful virus, and committed to keeping up the necessary precautions to help quash the threat. Overall, we’ve adjusted our lives as necessary, and are managing fairly well. That being said, the one thing that’s had me feeling somewhat…unsettled…lately—maybe coinciding with the arrival of Summer?—is a growing restlessness, a resurgence of my innate wanderlust, culminating in an intense longing to just…GO…somewhere.

Of course, this is not novel in any sense; it does happen to me on a regular basis. It’s just that in these times, the ability to scratch the itch, if you will, has taken on heretofore unknown layers of complexity, since we’re unable to simply pick up and gallivant away on a whim, without stopping to consider the required health and safety preparations, the potential for social distancing, and even whether things will be open for exploring. And to think, in halcyon Days of Yore (um…that would be ”pre-March 2020”) the weightiest decisions I faced were probably something along the lines of “How many snacks should I bring” and “Is there a coffee stop on the way”! Siiighhh….

Now it’s obviously more like “Did I remember a clean mask?”, “Is my hand sanitizer full?”, and “Are there things to see and do outside, and enough room to stay the heck away from other people?” (I mean, along with the food and java concerns—that goes without saying, right?) Thus I’ve been focusing my attention recently on hiking-type excursions, where I can tromp around in the Great Outdoors to my heart’s content, with a very low risk of…infectious repercussions.

But sometimes I just want to, I don’t know…learn something? Appreciate an urban view, rather than rocks and trees and whatnot? Plus, with cultural establishments and the like mostly still (understandably) shuttered, I found myself struggling to figure out something different and amusing to achieve my field trip fix. Oh, and did I forget to mention that every so often, usually without advance warning, I just yearn to hop in the car and DRIVE--which can be soothing in and of itself, but pleases me even more when I have an actual “destination” at the proverbial end of the road.

So with no clear target in mind, I consulted the Research Department (yeah: Google) to compile some viable options. Without digging too deeply for a quick jaunt, I came up with: Smithfield, a tiny burg about 60 miles southeast of Chapel Hill, boasting a “historic downtown” and also a “riverwalk”. Let’s see…the possibility of interesting architecture…the chance to be educated about a place that’s been around since the 1700s…and the opportunity to stroll along a body of water (something else I’ve been missing, incidentally)…SOLD!

I’ve gotta admit, although I didn’t think about this ahead of time, part of the fun for this adventure ended up being reestablishing my travel routine-- packing non-perishable eats and plenty of fluids; outfitting myself in light athletic gear and my sturdy trekking sneakers; grabbing my camera, sunscreen, and hat; and in this case printing the relevant maps, since I wouldn’t be able to snag them from the shuttered Visitor’s Center during a pandemic.

All of that felt comfortable and satisfying, to be sure. But what I couldn’t have predicted ahead of time was how palpably I felt my entire psyche r-e-l-a-x-i-n-g, mere minutes after I hit the highway. It was like some immense wad of tension I didn’t even realize I was carrying suddenly unraveled, loosening the pressure in my shoulders and making it easier to breathe. Huh. Who knew?

Anyway, I motored into Smithfield, parked the Subaru, and set out on foot to meander next to the Neuse River. From the direction I started, there wasn’t a whole lot to see, aside from the expected natural splendor, blah blah blah, but it was certainly a pleasant little path. However, it was also rapidly approaching Hades-hot, so I moved on to my next agenda item, which was following the self-guided pedestrian tour to take in some of the notable sights and delve into the area’s past.

One thing I quickly discovered was that the entire county is named after…a Confederate general. (Grits teeth, grimaces, attempts to suppress a frustrated scream, fails…REEEAAAALLLY? Let. It. GO, and pick someone else to commemorate, already! Sheesh…) So yes, there were numerous spots that had significance during the Civil War, as well as a couple of lovely churches, and a tranquil cemetery with headstones from as far back as 1825. (Although it was founded in 1777, earlier markers didn’t survive.) And—believe it or not—an entire museum dedicated to the life of…Ava Gardner, who was born on a farm somewhere in the surrounding countryside. (Of course it was closed…not that I would have needed to experience it, regardless!)

After several hours of happily winding my way through the park and streets, I’d clearly exhausted all the available entertainment in the tiny hamlet, at least for the present. Sweaty, craving some carbonation, and ready to rest my legs, I headed back to my ride, chalked it up to a successful endeavor…and fired up Maps to find the nearest Sheetz (1.3 miles—SCORE!). While this little foray admittedly didn’t rank up with the most exciting getaways I’ve ever planned, it was absolutely what I needed to calm the…nomadic beast? Or what have you… 

Most importantly, it will tide me over until the official Team WestEnders vacay, in a few short weeks. So to sum up: reasonably engaging activity, check. Mental stability restored (at least temporarily), you bet. Crucial peace and quiet, away from the close quarters I’ve been sharing with my beloved fam: YEEEESSSS. All adding up to a very definite WIN/WIN!