CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: NATURAL BEAUTY, BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE, AND THE DREAM

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO: NATURAL BEAUTY, BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE, AND THE DREAM

We went through a remarkable part of Eastern North Carolina today -- wild, unpopulated, green jungles of crunched together cypress trees and bushes – this is the Alligator River - Pungo River Canal, 22 miles long. We waited outside the canal for about 45 minutes as we served as an audience of two for the latest thunder and lightning show coming our way. Was it coming our way? Could we outrun it? Was it ahead of us and moving faster than Slow Motion? We turned around a few times in the wide expanse of the Pungo River, trying to decide whether to retreat to Belhaven or to press forward into the storm. We saw the rain pouring down in the canal, and we had not previously gone any distance with rain obscuring our view – what to do? The Admiral puts safety above all else, so he told me to step away from him and the controls, in case lightning decided to hit the controls. He’s already prepared to “take one for the team”. I quickly stepped to the back of the flying bridge, and thought for one instant about going below. But we are a team, and I was there for support, in case the Admiral got fried.

Not ones to shrink from a challenge, we headed down the canal. Miraculously, although it rained on us for about half of the 22 miles, we had found a “window” between two storms, one ahead of us and one that seemed to be chasing us. I don’t want to anthropomorphize storms, but they have been pretty diabolical, from their boat sinking in St. Augustine to their looming presence every time we have a desolate part of the waterway to travel. Did you ever look up to see if there was a black cloud hanging over just you, and nobody else? That’s the way it has started to feel. But we will not succumb to a stormy superstition (say that 10 times fast). We made it through the thunder, lighting, and rain today, and we are safely ensconced at Alligator River Marina. We are the ONLY transient boat at this marina. Boy, are the other boaters missing out. I had the best fried chicken dinner I have ever had in my entire life Yes, I was very hungry, but the fried batter was so crunchy and flavorful, I could have eaten the whole chicken, not just a breast and a thigh. Art had huge shrimp in a very light, tasty batter. This is a secret we have to keep to ourselves. The chef is an older Black woman, who calls me “Baby”.

Here’s a sign of the changing times. As I was filling out the registration form for our marina overnight, the Black male clerk who was helping me turned to the next customer, a strapping 6 feet five inches football playing young White man, and said “Boy, what do you have?” I have never heard a Black man call a White man “Boy”. The young White man had no reaction to the way he was addressed, so it appears that “Boy” has re-entered our language as bi-racial. I mean, the Black guy was probably twice as old as the White guy, but still – progress, I think.

It’s still miserably humid most of the time. For the first part of our 50 some miles on the ICW today, the Admiral and I were both in puddles of perspiration, and our clothing was wet enough to wring out. Then the rain came, and then a glorious breeze, so that the humidity and temp went down at least 15 degrees – and amazingly, I grabbed a sweatshirt – for warmth! Those chilly moments will long be remembered, although the sweatshirt was abandoned within the hour, as the ungodly humidity returned and order was restored in East North Carolina.

My assignment on Slow Motion, other than scullery maid (yep – the Admiral actually uses that phrase), is that of navigator. So ‘splain this to me, Lucy, why does the Admiral sit down every night with the charts and his protractor and draw elaborate angles for our turns in the open waters the next day? I was good at math. I took college calculus. I learned you could take a function of anything, including a happy face. That was my most favorite calculus lesson, when Prof. Pierce wrote a function of a happy face on the blackboard, leaned against it and then wore a function of a happy face on the back of his sports coat for the rest of the class. Who knows? He may still be wearing it today, 45 years later. At any rate, while I am fairly competent at making marina reservations, pointing out dangerous navigation areas, keeping track of the bridges that need to open for us, throwing lines to marina staff helping us tie up, and placing fenders and lifting them up on departure – I don’t have the skills to plot the angles across the Neuse River or the Pungo River or the Albemarle Sound. The Admiral is naturally disappointed, and so am I, but I hope with time, as I hold on to the charts the Admiral made for trip north, I can whip out my own charts with angles on the journey south. All right, let’s not get carried away, but it could happen.

Swimming pool alert! Two nights ago, Thursday, we stayed at the luxurious Grace Harbor at River Dunes. Everything there is perfect. They have fully functional bicycles, with pedals and everything (Casper’s had a bike without pedals). They have washers and dryers, each costing only $1.00. Swansboro Laundry charged $6.50 just to wash. They have an efficient dock hand who helps you make the smoothest tie up to pump out and then helps you a second time to tie up for the night at another face dock. They have a television with Olympics news. They have an exercise room. They have modern showers – clean and spacious, with a bench to sit on. And they have a large swimming pool, where you can actually swim laps. At 5 p.m. there was no one in the pool, and I swam back and forth, using muscles I had not used for a while and breathing somewhat laboriously after the 6^th lap. And to top this experience off – this marina is not expensive. It’s new, and maybe the hordes haven’t discovered it yet, but why stay in downtown Oriental, when you can go 8 miles away and get treated like royalty?

So why did we leave River Dunes after only one night? We’re trying to get to Norfolk by Monday for the usual Monday stuff – Labcorp, CVS, rent-a-car. Yes, every Monday I give a little blood to a Labcorp wherever we are docked – with the standing order from my Salinas oncologist. That way we keep track of my red blood cell count and determine if I should get a transfusion. Rather than go into the sordid details about LGL Leukemia, suffice it to say, I am taking care of myself. And I have a network of doctors and nurses, physician’s assistant and phlebotomists helping me do that. Perhaps I can get a job as a consultant to Labcorp on quality control issues. Every Labcorp from Ft. Lauderdale to Norfolk has its own character. I’ve been to some great ones recently, in and out in 15 minutes. But every once in a while, you hit a Labcorp office where people are stacked up waiting, the staff is surly, and it takes a few phone calls back to Salinas to get the order the way Nurse Ratchett wants it to read. Labcorp execs, call me, we’ll talk.

I know, I know, photos  -- we’ve been very lax in the photo department. We’re still taking them. I sneak a bridge photo whenever the Admiral isn’t looking. He took an incredible photo of the full moon over Swansboro, NC. Eat your heart out, Ansel Adams’ progeny. And you have got to see my photos of the inside of the ladies room at Belhaven Waterway Marina, where we stayed one night ago. OMG, Brenda has filled the walls with every possible fish and shellfish every caught in the North Carolina waters. And there are dioramas –at least I think they are dioramas – and tableaux of shells and other sea life. Best of all, there are clean, dry, fluffy towels – a whole stack of them – in a marine mode, that a boat person can use after showering in her fish lined shower. Oh, oh – all kinds of soaps – and tada! a hair dryer. Brenda has outdone herself. We didn’t get into the quaint town of Belhaven, which we were assured has “a lot of history”. But we will next time – if I ever get out of the shower. You’ll recognize Brenda’s décor when we post the photos. Enjoy!

It’s good to be on the move again. Intracoastal Waterway – Carefree Highway – Let me slip away, slip away, on you. The other night in Swansboro a duo was giving an open air concert, country and blues was the billing. They closed with one of the most famous highway songs “Bobby McGee”. It brought me back to Salinas (“somewhere near Salinas, Lord, I let him slip away”). I miss Salinas, not the gang shootings, but the walks in Toro Park with the puppies, Zorro and Ladybug, the canyon living, the trips to Carmel Beach, the meals with neighbors and friends, the DRYNESS of the place, my colleagues and friends inside and outside the DA’s office, my doctors, even my dentist. But I don’t have much time to miss Salinas, as we explore new territories every day – who knew North Carolina was so untamed on the Atlantic Coast? This boat experience is much more than I ever expected. I have not always taken to it like, well, a duck to water. But, when I am open to the adventure, I am richly rewarded with natural beauty as well as the inner beauty of people we meet. I’m glad the Admiral decided to fulfill his dream, and I’m very glad that he has shared that dream with me.