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| Sarah and Mook. |
Sarah just returned from five years living in Senegal, working for an NGO, and now lives in "a big rambly house" with 6 housemates in the Mt Pleasant neighborhood - just north of Adams Morgan. We attended seminary at Shambhala Mountain Center in 2008, the last time I saw her. The housemates were fairly scarce but one of them had two cats, who were continually around us as we unpacked my bags and cooler and got ready for sleep. Sarah is a very kind hostess. She arranged her meditation cushions on the floor and offered me her bed: "ive been living in Africa for five years, I'm used to sleeping on the floor."
Saturday morning we wake and go to the DC Shambhala center for a
vajrayana practice weekend, which I'm grateful to join for the morning.
I haven't been able to do my practice since being on the road - the
compressed schedule, and getting accustomed to sleeping in different
locations each day have not permited me an hour each morning in a
conducive place. The DC Shambhala center is a bright, enticing space
with a fountain of good energy and a beautiful shrine room.
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| DC Shambhala Center |
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| DC Shambhala Center |
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| DC Shambhala Center |
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| DC Shambhala Center, Connecticut Ave. |
We practiced until 12 then went to lunch and caught up on the changes in our lives the last few months. I spent the afternoon doing laundry and walking around Adams Morgan looking for a good cafe with internet access that didn't have a noisy crowd or dance music blasting,. Tryst was recommended, but they were very loungey and didn't offer internet on the weekends. I found Filter on 20th and S Street, just the kind of geeky little coffee-snob joint I'd become fond of in New York.
I'd made plans to have dinner with Sarah so spent the afternoon trying to relax and enjoy the neighborhoods but found myself feeling edgy and distracted instead. The previous few days I'd felt somewhat relaxed and now the city energy was subtly taunting me. I walked 7 blocks down T street to dinner, admiring the rowhouses. I love the variety of old house architecture in DC and often think the neighborhoods bordering Rock Creek Park would be where I would want to live if I was so disposed...but I feel city living is something I won't want to do again for a while. When I was sitting on the edge of Greenbackville, nothing but bees and a few birds around, it suited me. There was so much space, quiet, stillness. I could use a few more days of that.
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| 16th & T |
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| Alexandria, VA |
Sunday morning Sarah helped me load the cooler back in Jewel Song with re-frozen blocks of ice and my few provisions, then we said goodbye and she pedaled off to another day of practice. I squeezed Jewel Song out into the alley and made for Beach Drive in the park. I was going to meet an old friend from Frazer in the 80's who now lives in Springfield VA, just south of DC. I also needed a coffee stop with internet, and Grounded Coffee in a small strip mall in south Alexandria came up on Google. The place was decorated like a pre-school with bright colors and indestrutable formica tables, but they had a bakery on site and a decent mini-quiche. I worked there for a couple of hours then left to meet Margaret a few miles down the road. As I was leaving a female jazz singer was taking her place in front of a guitarist in one corner of the store.
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| Springfield Restaurant and Pizza |
The Springfield Restaurant and Pizzeria where I was meeting Margaret for lunch is within a strip mall just off of I-495 but I took Franconia Road through the typical suburban scene of...housing development, strip mall, strip mall, strip mall. We had a nice table in this greek diner with good light from a large front window. We caught up on the past few years. Margaret and I met working at Friendly's when I was in high school. She lived with us for a wile in a spare room my mother rented. Over the years we haven't really kept in touch well as our lives have led us in different directions, but there were some wild times back in the day, so we have a long bond. Margaret's a romance writer, working on her first novel and working back from a couple of years of unemployment during the downturn. Now has a good job in marketing and dotes on her sisters' kids. She's planning a trip to see one of those sisters, now living in Northern Ireland and running a mountain biking park.
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| Springfield Restaurant. |
I have one more stop before heading to the Outer Banks, so we finish up lunch and I plot my route in the parking lot.
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| Before King William |
The REI in Woodbridge, VA is centered in one of those "newfangled outdoor mall" developments - a new construction designed to mimic a small-town downtown, with chain retail stores opening onto a perfectly landscaped grid of streets, surrounded by wedges of parking lots, surrounded further by (in this case) a large townhouse development called Potomac City. Nary a tree above 10 feet, the whole thing feels completely artificial and repellant. I think of the empty homes in Greenbackville and this swath of new-everything development, and it epitomizes something of the materialistic confusion of our culture. Also, there are green bubble-shaped speakers in the landscaping along the walkways, playing "feel-good" rock from the bushes.
I find REI, get my mosquito netting and escape as quickly as possible.
South on I-95 towards Richmond, deciding to make up time. But I continually run into sluggish traffic. Seeing a chance to circumvent on a more interesting blue road, I exit at Kings Dominion and take VA30 east towards King William, which I was curious to see because of the name. There is also a town further north along the Chesapeake watershed called King George - perhaps there are a few more royalty here that I'm missing. Horse farms and rolling grass lawns drifted past on this two-lane road. A boat with two motors rode on the back of a truck in front of me. I was heading to West Point, VA, where I would turn right and re-enter the Interstate system on I-64 going around Norfolk.
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| King William County, VA |
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| King William, VA Fire Tower |
King William is a county on the "middle peninsula" of Virginia's Chesapeake shorline, and boasts
the oldest courthouse in continuous use in the United States, built in 1725. The farms and trees gave way to a brief array of modern conveniences before returning to nature. Noodling along at the speed limit I saw a few interesting older buildings further east but nothing to get out of the car for. Then an intersection approached with an old store, Jim Hall's. Hand-painted and worn, with a patriotic palette of hand-drawn adverts pasted to the front posts, I turned into the small lot. Not a soul was about. The sign for BBQ should have enticed me to enter, but I hesitated, knowing I could be getting to the campground well after dark. Also I can't eat BBQ because of an allergy to peppers. So I took a few photos and hopped back in the car. If I had just taken 10 minutes to go in and meet whoever was there, I might have saved myself from what happened next.
| Jim Hall's, West Point, VA, King William County. |
Turning from the drive back onto VA30, I accelerated up a long grade. Had not been looking at the speedometer when I crested the hill and a trooper was coming the other direction - I looked and saw my needle approaching 70 and knew I was done for. In the rear view, flashing blues made a u-turn. I pulled over long and waiting for him to catch up to me and was in a lovely spot with a view of a farm and pink skylight. The youngish officer came to the window and I started the conversation with a truly sincere "I am so sorry." I explained I was accelerating from a dead stop at Jim Hall's and had not intended to go over the limit, had barely been 10 seconds from the stop I'd made. "Where are you headed?" "The Outer banks." "Using GPS or something like
that?" he says, looking off into the distance, not really interested.
"Some. I like the scenic routes, don't like Interstates." He was very gracious, took my license and registration, went back to his vehicle. I prayed I would get a warning from this polite fellow, but he came back with a summons on a clipboard, a large duplicate form, indicating speeding at 70 in a 55mph zone. Court date (at the oldest continuously operating court in the US) was August 1st. I flashed a thought on my itinerary and panicked for a moment knowing I was expected to be in Halifax, Nova Scotia. "This is not a confession of guilt if you sign here, so you can come back and contest the charge in court on this date." "What if I can't be here on that day?" "you can call this number and schedule another date. Or you can pre-pay the fine, plead guilty, and resolve it by mail." My mind plays frantically with the options - I don't feel guilty, but I really would rather just pay a fine and be free to move on. Yet doesn't that mean points on my record? I wonder if points are reported to New York. I'll be getting my insurance renewed when I move to Vermont later this year - what does it all mean?
It's too much to process. I say, knowing it's fruitless, "I'm sorry, this doesn't feel right to me, could you not give me a warning? I just left Hall's and over-accelerated." "Well, you can defend yourself in court. 70 is 15mph over the limit, that's just about reckless driving around here. Besides, I already wrote the summons." He's just looking around while he talks, not really interested in my problems. I reluctantly sign the document and he gives me a copy and tells me I'm close to West Point, not much further. Seems he wants to both help me find my way and keep me from spending much more time in his jurisdiction. I pull out and set the cruise control at 55, stewing with shame and irritation.
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After King William
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I stewed for another 20 minutes then found some things to take my mind elsewhere. I pass the containerboard mill in West Point puffing steam by the bridge, owned by a company I used to work with at my old job. Crossing the border to North Carolina, the ocean felt close and the Chesapeake Expressway promised to "Get me there faster." Twilight faded to night and Jewel Song crossed the last of several bridges over Chesapeake inlets that day, over the Albemarle sound into Kitty Hawk. We found the Adventure Bound campground a few turns later. I set up without dinner, the sound of crickets and some kind of weird bird call shreiking from the woods as I drifted to sleep.
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| Tunnel under James River, Newport News, VA, |
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| Wright Memorial Bridge - 158 East crossing Albemarle Sound into Kitty Hawk, NC |
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