The Park, the Odditurium and Perspective

We walked into Asheville city limits early in the morning. The road was narrow in places, but all-in-all , I saw more walkers in the Asheville area than across all of Tennessee, which made for a pleasant walk. Several public and semi-public spaces were along the route, all in use. Once deep into the city there were bike lanes with bike traffic and all through the city I saw pedestrians of all caliber walking their sidewalks.
I came to a gravel path, that paralleled the road, along a privately owned lake with a park, and walking path used by the public. Many joggers, strollers and dog walkers were using the park. The lake was big enough for small crafts, there were docks and a landing.
Apparently the fees are enough to employ a "warden". We were walking along a section of gravel walkway, which paralleled the busy roadway. When the warden saw us he got out of his "park warden" pickup truck, stomped over to us, he then aggressively informed me that this was a private park and I was to walk on the outside of the white perimeter posts. Nice did not like him coming at us so "hot" and actually barked at him. He was just doing his job, the Warden, so I walked the length of the park straddling the road and avoiding the painted posts spaced every six feet. It was probably the only warden-worthy work he'd had in weeks.
By the late afternoon we had made our way into Downtown Asheville, to Pritchard Park. I people watched/listened for awhile. Pritchard Park is a place where the travelers, and the local homeless congregate, as well as the tourists and locals of some means. I saw and heard many scenes similar to stories my son had shared about "road kids" and their drama he experienced while he was out on the road.
I had not made a connection through town to get back to the van, as is often the case in the inner-city. A woman struck up conversation with me. She offered a ride, it was close to her home. She and her son gave us a ride back to the van, even after a rain storm blew in and soaked us. Because of where we were we also had to bring the water soaked World. I had it wadded up, deflated and bound by a rope... to take with us in her Mercedes. She didn't care at all about the wet mess. She said she had children and animals, she was used to dirt. Still, I tried to wipe down the seat after we got back to the van. She laughed off the dirt water spots on her tan leather seats, headliner, door and seemingly everything I had touched.
I stuffed the wet world in the van. It rained late a few more times into the night, so getting it out to let the canvas dry there, in the grocery-chain parking lot, wouldn't help. I slept using the soaked,deflated world as my pillow in the cramped van. I awoke to sunshine.
In the morning I went to a coin-laundry. I noticed it when we had walked by the previous day. It was tucked behind a paint store on its open basement level and was built on a hill. The parking area backed up to a wide overgrown drainage ditch that separated it from the building and parking area behind it. I was able to get the soaked canvas world out and inflate it while I washed clothes. The long trip from Nashville had worn the paint down to fabric in many places and some of the glued patchworks were separating due to wear. Putting the world up wet only made them worse. Patches that had been holding fast were peeling away and a few areas were in need of intense rehabilitation to keep the world from splitting at it's seams.
Getting the World out, even in a semi-secluded parking area tends to attract attention. I was gathering my clothes and clearing out my backpack to wash when a man from the parking lot across the ravine called over to ask what the world was about. By the time I was finished explaining my journey, the dilemma with the deteriorating world, coupled with the I invitation to the television studio that Sunday, the man offered his loading dock area if I wanted.
Repairing the world is a messy undertaking, I thanked the man from the Red Cross blood bank and kept the possibility in reserve because I knew I may slop some paint or glue and a loading dock is no place for blue and green splatters or drying contact adhesive. Even out in an open area the fumes can be strong. I would search for a more suitable place before taking him up on his offer.
Asheville is a destination for tourists and travelers, several were washing clothes there and I spent most of the hours in conversation with them and others. Even a man who happened to glance over as he drove by, he had frequented the laundry years before. Before he moved in with a woman who now washed his clothes at home. He had looked over nostalgically toward the place he had spent many evenings and had to stop when he saw the World outside his favorite coin-laundry.
He was a carpenter, as am I. We talked of the joy in creativity and the satisfaction of returning to see something we built that will outlast us. Especially projects that bore a special addition born of our own unique perspective. He recalled a home he helped build that had a view over a valley. The builder and contractor were debating the elevation of the enclosed porch addition. My fellow carpenter got a tall, standing ladder and set it on the hillside where the porch would be and by sitting on one step, then another found the perfect view of the mountains without being obscured by a neighboring home. Marking the elevation on a tall stake where his buttocks rested, they calculated the hight of the couch, the thickness of the flooring and built the porch accordingly. He happened by the home years latter and met the owners of the now-furnished home. They had a couch in the exact spot he had imagined. They, and many visitors, had enjoyed the wonderful view over the years. They were glad to let him sit on the couch to take in the fruit of his perspective. The satisfaction of a job done well...
When I had finished drying the last load (I staggered the loads to take more time for the sun to dry the canvas covered world.) Lett g the air out again, I loaded the world back in the van, then drove to West Asheville where I had heard " the cool people live". I don't know how much "cooler" the West side is to any other side of Asheville but there I found The Odditorium. I had a feeling I might be able to use a space in the deteriorating asphalt parking area. It was a bar, the manager was very nice. She told the employees I would be there that night. I got busy patching. I worked all day gluing and patching. By the time it became dark I was painting the World. There were three bands playing that night so I painted with a flash lite headlamp. The bands were loud and I would not have been able to sleep.in the morning I had little of the world to paint.
Then I talked to the man from the TV station and we confirmed my coming into the studio the next morning.

Out of Marshall and Trust

After thousands of miles, over a dozen trips in- to- thru forty two states, walking every inch is only a point of pride. The first walk to the last, there have been times where I had to take a ride over a bridge or an unsafe section of road. Yet whenever I do it, there is a sense of failure, but it is necessary and everything turns out well.
From Downtown Marshall all four roads I looked at to get me back up to highway 70 were too dangerous to walk by myself, especially with a dog and a six foot orb.
I had taken the ball to a point roughly parallel with where I was downtown and the bypass of the highway where all the towns modern stores and businesses are. When I started in the morning down the wide four-lane with a good shoulder I felt better, despite failing again to walk every inch. The World wasn't going to end. I had to trust it was the best decision to go to higher ground by automobile, rather than on foot.
Nice (the dog) and I were on the road only short while when I saw, at the intersection ahead of me, a satellite-van for the Asheville ABC news affiliate turn in and stop. The cameraman and reporter emerged, the photographer setup and began filming as I approached.
It was early, I hadn't worked up a sweat yet and was very relaxed, the interview went well. After the cameraman followed us awhile he gathered up his remote microphone and they went on their way. This is not my first "rodeo", I've found that a forty-minute interview may yield about eight seconds of me talking. I have to trust that I say something intelligent.
The news-crew's visit opened the flood gates. The rest of the morning I was stopped by people pulling onto the side of the road so many times, I filled my phone with so many pictures of faces it was full. One of the visitors was the program director for the same station's weekend morning news. He invited me to come to the station that weekend if I could manage it. I have him my information so we could coordinate later. The roadside stops didn't end with him. The sun rose high, the clouds cleared and soon Nice (the dog) and me were walking from one shaded spot to the next. I had to trust we would find our way to a safe place to end the day without needing to spend too much time under a shade tree or scrub bush.
The heat of the day was full tilt. We were still in sight of the last shaded stop when Nice edged the World and I under a tree line. There we met Kelly. I had drained my phones battery by then, so I have no pictures of her, or Nice jumping into the back of her car. All she had to to was open the door. He has learned that if he looks pitiful enough he can get me to emote certain noises to another human and they will take him home until evening when we reunite. We had talked for a half-hour, most of which he was staring at her SUV . All she had to do was open the door.
I only had to trust someone I had just met, again.
When I had time to charge my phone and called about the dog she told me had been given a bath, was getting along with her three little dogs and was playing tug with her twelve year old son. (Not the best activity for a dog with plates for rear knees but you can't cover everything) I got a little lonely without him but was also glad he was having fun.
Because Nice was well taken care of I was able to get a few more miles closer to Asheville. All afternoon I was met with people who had seen the report on the news, the response was enthusiastic. I walked until evening to Weaverville, or was it Woodfin? Whichever it was, I ended the day within a days' walk to Downtown Asheville. Kelly came and we shuttled, wadded-up-World-and-all, back to the van, with which I followed her to her home for a shower before heading back to the city.
Trust has it's virtues.
Here is the link to the news clip...

http://www.wlos.com/news/features/top-stories/stories/world-guy-walking-diabetes-awareness-21353.shtml#.VXQ7Tkb9Z8E

State Line to Marshall

We walked all morning up and down the hills to Hot Springs, a tourist hub and a stop for travelers of the AP (Appalachian Trail). I parked the World and Nice(the dog) in the shade, across the road from the general store where I went in for some coffee. When I came out, the man from the rafting outfit next door and a woman who had drove up were there by the World taking pictures. We were parked next to the antique and novelties store, the World was tied to a big chair. The woman's mother had seen us up the hill coming into town and called her to come see us. She offered to take me to the van at the border. The man told me where there was public parking a few blocks away, he watched the World while I was gone and so did Nice.
It being a crossing of the AP, the rafting guide asked how many more miles I planned to get that day and told me of a store over the next mountain just four miles away. " Two miles up, two miles down." AP hikers go twenty miles and more each day so I guess the man expected I was all about the miles. I am not. Nevertheless I took his recommendation Nd re packed my gear for a hot afternoon stroll. The steep hill going up, the hot sun and a sudden rain made for a day filled with shade breaks and shelter under trees.
When we made it to the store the couple who owned the place happened to be going to Hot Springs after they closed and were both willing to give me a ride and let me stay in the parking area. I parked next to the Ice cream van. When the couple, Matt & Jemima, were dating she was looking for a daily-driver for school, "...like a Subaru. He bought me the ice cream truck... So I married him..."
The next morning I left very early to roll up the higher hill over to Marshall. I was grueling work but with little traffic before daylight I made it up the worst of it without any traffic when I approached Marshall It had been recommended I go into downtown and not stay on the bypass. The road down to Marshall was narrow. winding, with steep grades and blind turns. The speed limit was twenty mph, which saved me a lot of dodging with nowhere to go. Finally at the bottom I was in historic Marshall. There I met a couple who were sightseeing, we walked the Main Street together, had a latte', window shopped and when they took me back to the van on there way to Hot Springs we took Hill Road to see some of the pretty homes built on the hillside lane that meandered like a snake up from the river floor.
I came back down to Marshall's downtown by another road and reconnoitered two more before deciding to transport the ball back up to the new Marshall on the Bypass. I asked to stay at a suitable business and inflated the World to ready myself for an early morning start.

First in Flight

The first time I walked into North Carolina I was on a flat highway near the coast. With wind blowing hard against my shoulder, slightly to one side. The six foot canvas ball sailed along while I touched only the toggled leash attached to the four foot guide pole on one end and the laces over the ball's fill-hole on the other. I got the idea I would see how far I could go without touching the World.using only the guide-leash.
One mile passed. The marker for mile two had been lost. The second mile seemed endless. I was determined to keep on without stopping or pushing as I rumbled along the slanted berm of the highway.
I was surprised to see the next marker read three. A few hundred yards past that marker the road turned about five degrees to the right and my first flight in North Carolina was ended.
I gotta' say...
It felt right Brothers!
(Cue the drum splash)
This trip in was mountainous. The canvas grew heavy, rolling on and off grass wet from rain. This time I climbed grades while trudging in ditches and checked for ticks at every stop. With every valley there comes a hill on the other side.
You never forget the first time...

Gentry of Old

When I walked into Tennessee toward Nashville I met many who were moving to it's surrounding (newly built, opulent) suburbs from other parts of the nation.
The New Gentry.
The last day in the eastern hills I visited, on the porch, with the old gentry. They told me how their forefather was awarded the land after service in "The War". The formula was simple. As far as you can ride in a day, thats how much land they got.
This was true also for the cousin on the other side of the conflict, who lived a days ride away. Most had sold off their holdings, or lost them over time.
This modest family still held most of this original acreage with hard work and determination. But they have become burdened increasingly by taxes, due to lack of growing industry and other tax-bases, in this beautiful mountain country. Leaving the tick attached to the back of the old horse.
The Old Gentry.

Skipping Ahead

Pushing the World over hill and dell, talking to people, keeping the dog and the support van maintained is time consuming and sometimes exhausting.
Writing updates here, as well as posting the hundreds of pictures to Facebook, often comes last.
It is my intent to share some about the last few days from Tennessee into Asheville before I launch off into another chapter in this ongoing journey.
BUT... The World needs attention. It is literally pulling apart at it's seams and the paint which protects the fabric of the World has worn away from many days of grinding over wet roads.
Getting the World in order, now that I have arrived in the heart of Asheville, is taking priority over my labored ramblings about diabetes and situations I experience along the road.
I am not just going to run back home. or charge against another windmill-goal without giving the World the attention it needs and deserves. It looks good from a distance, the up-close view shows the neglect and potential catastrophic result of continued use without continued care.

Dog Meets Wolf

The last morning we walked in Tennessee's Cocke County, we started in the Wee'hours, at 3:30. On Sunday morning at that time, the drinkers and the night patrol are all who prowl the highway. We had walked almost twenty minutes in the dark when the first auto to pass was Cocke Counties finest. It took him a second after he passed to register what he had seen. The exelerator stammered a bit before he applied the brake to turn about.
To make this little tale short, I'll cut to the chase.
He said he had a wolf. They nicknamed him Wolf-man. I could see it.
He said the were several officers on his police force who were diabetic and maybe more activity would help more than one.
Not trusting a dog named Nice, he frisked him.
He asked us to be careful, after we both commented on the car that passed, without slowing or noticing the police vehicle stopped in the opposing lane.
I did enjoy Tennessee.

Dandridge to Newport

With a good day of rest at the antique shoppe I awoke refreshed, got everything ready for the fourteen miles to Newport. I checked the time when we got to the main road over downtown Dandridge , it was one o'clock. A long bridge crossing Douglas Lake five miles away was a concern. If it were too narrow I would rather dodge a car at four than many during the morning rush. The bridge was modern and wide so my concerns were overblown. I had a full six feet from the white line to the wall. Only two cars went by while I crossed. One from each direction, passing at the spot I happened to be. Everyone had room to spare.
Later in the morning after I had gotten into Newport I stopped at a gas/mart. Rather, Nice (the dog) sat down in the grass in front of the store and wouldn't get up. I leashed him to the world and went inside. There I found one of the women working there had just finished cooking a large pile of crispy bacon. While I purchased the tasty enticement for the dog the other woman, at the cash register and I talked about what we were doing. She said she passed me on her way to work...on the bridge. Nice enjoyed the bacon, then we walked on.
The early start had been fortunate. Weave our way along several sections of the old highway until we got to town where there was a long stretch where the road had been widened and paved but not yet open to traffic and we had a sixty foot wide walkway. Then we had a wide bike lane for the last miles toward town. We had walked over fourteen miles and the sun was just beginning to heat up.
Walking by the entrance to The KOA campground I thought it would be a great place to end the day. I could take a shower and wash some dirty clothes. The only thing was I had not spoken to anyone about a ride. (No one sees us in the dark or on the old road.)
Just then a man pulled in and parked to talk with me. He had seen us on the television news last week, his son had called him that morning after seeing us on the road. His wife did also. He told them both what I was walking for. It hit home for him because he was "pre-diabetic", many in his family were on medication due to diabetes. He had taken action to stay off medications by changing his diet and exercising. He was happy to ride me to Dandridge. We both thought it a coincidence meant to be, I couldn't thank him enough. After checking in we had a relaxing day beneath shade and an electric plug-in to recharge my battery-powered pump and use the fan for a change. I patched and painted the world as I washed clothes, took a dip in the pool, enjoyed a shower. I had a restful night 's sleep.
We were having very good luck thanks to loving people...

A Day by the Lake

We got going a little late from the salvage yard and as the sun came up the traffic had me in the grass, the wide four lanes and pull off was now diminished to grass and ditch. It wasnt particularly hard going, most grasses had been cut since spring. Too many miles to the next town. Dandridge (Named after Martha Dandridge Washington), I set my daily goal for a Love's truck stop about midway. I-40 runs parallel thru that stretch and it was about three quarters of a mile from the road we were walking on to the expressway interchange.
I had met a newsman from Dandridge who would give me a ride after he made his afternoon Deadline. I had walked all morning on the narrow road while people commuted to work. None had time to pull off and the driveways were few. Unlike the previous days where I had "good luck". When I saw the man standing in the church parking lot ahead of me, holding a camera, I thought he might be the person to ask. He was gracious enough to help later,when he had finished for the day.
When I arrived at the busy truck complex, with acres of pavement, it was teaming with tractor-trailers. While I waited for the ride I found a small bit of shade against some shrub trees surrounding a shallow, green pond, littered with truck tires, next to the tire service building. While Nice (the dog) buried himself deep under the shade of willow and cedar I watched as three trucks pulled in and had a tire replaced with lightening-fast efficiency.
Upon talking with a man who worked there, it was alright to park and sleep but "company policy" restricts abandoning a vehicle.. He suggested I walk to the other side of the highway, where there is a closed truck stop. Adding that if he found any vehicle "abandoned" the next morning he would have to put a "dot on it". Finally he said, "I think that's a wonderful thing you are doing. It's a great cause...Good luck with that." He turned and walked away. Dots were his responsibility, far be it from me to stray from the norm.
I had enough time to walk the distance over the bridge to the overgrown, boarded-up complex. I stashed the world in the open beside an abandoned mobile home, amid the tall grass as he drove in. I got back to the world, parked under the shade of the pump-awning, patched a few holes Tennessee had worn in the world, had a good night of sleep,without the glare of lights and even got a visit from the County patrol. They assured me the "park and ride"area by the roadwas safe to leave the van in the morning.
The attendant of Love had wished me luck, it was working.
When I researched the distance to go back to the main road to Dandridge or take the scenic lakeside they were now about the same so I took the Douglas Lake route.
I left out early enough to see the sunrise over the lake from several vantage points. The roads were a little winding but almost all the grass was cut along the scenic boat landings and lakefront homes. There were many stretches with trees to shade us almost the entire way to town. The scenery was worth any added distance or effort.
When we got to the edge of downtown we were stopped at an historic home, now antique shop, who's proprietors suggested I park under the old tree on the side of the house, built in 1820. The couple who were part of the business both filled my head with historic facts about the town and surrounding area.
The town was saved by a dyke built to hold off the lake when it was created for hydro-electric power by the TVA. Dandridge is the only town in the nation named after our country's first First Lady.
A nearby field, now part of the lake was a battlefront during the Civil war. The battle was over grain stores. Many fought and died to survive. Some say the inlet over the field is haunted.
I was able to rest in the cool van and get a needed rest for the early start to Newport the next day.
The attendant of Love's wish was granted,again.

Junkyard Daydream

We passed the afternoon at the recycling center parked beside a flatbed truck loaded with the carcass of an old winching rig. With the sun bearing down, Nice (the dog) found the concrete under the shade of the large truck to be the coolest spot. His head was streaked by the end of the day, from the oily drive shaft and brake lines. I tried to coax him to the ever increasing shade as the sun crept slowly behind the loading dock we were parked against. He was obviously correct in staying there. The concrete he was laying on hadn't seen direct sun in months. I sat at the side door of the open van, shielded from the sun but not the sweltering heat. There was little else to do but watch the parade of cars and trucks loaded with all sorts of metal extrusions, cans, steel frames and lawn furniture.
I couldn't bring myself to take a picture of the Mercury Mark IV, brought in by trailer, as the salvage workers rolled it into the large doorway to be weighed on the scales. It would soon make its way to the wrecking yard in the rear where they would dissect the old collectible of various parts, dump it upside down in an open topped trailer with other heaps, then to be hauled off to the shredder. Like the two loads I had seen leaving from the far gate earlier in the day, the old relic would soon be a new kitchen appliance, bridge beam or pipeline.
The woman who brought it in probably needed a few dollars, or the space in the yard, or revenge for her ex-husband. Who knows?
The doors closed. The workers went home. Eventually the shade covered the van and I was able to nap in a hot sweat until darkness fell. Then I could change into dry clothes and sleep for a few hours.

The Coach's plan, the Hail Mary.

Walking into Knoxville or any large(ish) city I can be sure few cars will give any ground. In the country they slow and move over as far as they can even though I have the world totally off the roadway when they pass. Not that I expect any consideration, it is interesting that in the city most cars bear down, almost daring me to make a mistake.
Few people stop in cities, whereas in small towns I can count on an extra break for conversation with the locals.
It being a Sunday on a holiday weekend I wasn't surprised that no one stopped. A few slowed to snap a picture. I walked nearly eight miles before the first person walked up to me to talk.
"Coach" was the second to stop and talk. After talking for awhile he told me that after he retired from coaching high school football, had hip replacement surgery his health suffered as he gained weight and eventually had to carry nitro-glycerin for his ailing heart. When his doctor told him he had become diabetic he refused to accept the diagnosis. He told the doctor he would be back in a few months and prove him wrong. Ultimately he has lost ninety pounds and the coach is free of medications.
He offered to have me come to his home for a shower and even wash my clothes when I finished for the afternoon. (The road becomes too hot for Nice (the dog) after temperatures get above 80 degrees and sunny.) he was going to make sure I got a ride for the van and have me come for dinner with his family.
When the time came for the ride he sent a young man who was working and staying with him. When I was dropped at the van the coach had another errand for the man and he also was busy with his auto-mechanic. ( Coach is a busy man) When I had the world stuffed away in the van I called for directions. The coach had me call his young friend to guide me in, "old school", rather than a simple address I could plug into my smartphone. The young man texted that he would call me back. After I sat down and had lunch at a restaurant, I received no call back and Coach didn't answer. I didn't judge any deeper than that they were busy.
With the ball loaded up I found a laundromat to make use of the afternoon. Returning to the area where I had deflated the world and no return calls I found a place under shade trees to rest for the walk to the heart of Knoxville Monday, Memorial Day. I was able to get some sleep in the relatively cool spot and awoke at 3am.
Ready to go, a little after 4am, I grabbed the keys from the ignition to see that I had left the key turned on when I raised the power window before I fell asleep but forgot to turn the key to the off position. The battery was drained dead. There was nothing I could do at that moment about the drained battery. At such an hour, on a holiday in a deserted mall district heading toward downtown.
I quickly resolved to throw my fate to the wind, not dwell on my stupidity all day, to get a Cab at the end of the day. I was certain I would be stranded somewhere in downtown Knoxville, as the streets would be barren. Of coarse I dwelled on it all day to the point of distraction.
I was able to tour downtown with literally no cars on the streets. Only a few delivery trucks and a few city workers were making their rounds. Only after passing to the road heading east out of town did one person stop and get out of her vehicle to talk.
She videoed our conversation so she could share it with her children. She had lost weight and was working slowly toward lowering her blood sugar levels.By the end of the interview, when I told her the grocery store I was planning to have as my end-point for the day, she said she would see about getting me a ride and a 'jump for my battery. It turned out she lived by the store and she called me a few minutes later to have me meet at her auto-mechanic's place, who happened to be across the road from the store.
She then gave me a ride while Larry (the mechanic) watched Nice (the dog) under a shade tree where he and a few others were performing mechanics under the shade of a different tree. When I returned ,Larry let me stay in the yard. He also fixed my tail lights and topped off the fluids in my van.
I needn't have worried all day. Things worked out even better than I could have hoped.
Had Coach not missed my call, allowing me to rest and get started early I would not have met Crystal where I did. Or Larry.
Further, this evening, I have walked out of Knoxville proper and got help before I asked.
I walked by a salvage yard that is very close to my planned daily endpoint. I paused to take a photo of an old Buick set upon blocks I front of the recycling building. Out from it came the proprietor and within a minute he was offering a ride and a place to park close to the relic overnight.