I’m partway into my annual Fall saudade-fest, which usually begins in late August (when the light begins to change in North Georgia), and climaxes around my birthday in early November. This year I’ve devised a hypothetical Appalachia tour, which, truth be told, I’d take right now if someone offered financial support (perhaps in exchange for melancholic but incisive travel essays) even above, say, offshore winds and head high swell in El Salvador.
Appalachia Tour for Saudade relief:
1. You need a flight to New York.
2. Visit friends, eat bagels, catch shows, maybe surf Montauk, Jersey Shores?
3. Drive South to DC. Visit friends, museums.
4. Continue south to West Virginia. Camp out at Gauley River. Paddle kayaks. Build medium to large fires.
5. Drive next morning to Linville Gorge, N.C. via Asheville. Stop for local barbecue. Purchase additional dinner to pack in at Conley Cove Trail. Pulled pork, baked beans, french fries, extra sauce. Pack a bottle of Malbec (for geographic irony).
6. Hike out late afternoon, then drive next day to Chattooga River. Camp out at Woodall shoals. Paddle section 4. If with family / kids (or not), make giant leaf pillows to jump / roll in. Paddle Section 4 the next day.
7. After paddling drive to Athens, Ga. Afternoon beers at the Globe, dinner at the Grit. Afterward see whoever’s playing at the 40 Watt.
8. The tour ends down in Atlanta. Drive back listening to 88.5 WRAS. Realize complete dystopic traffic conditions, and how much the South has changed, that none of it is or ever could be the same as when this wasn’t a tour but just good days when you lived here. Dinner at Greenwood’s on Green Street in Roswell. A quarter bird plus double order of collards, black eyed peas, mashed potatoes and gravy. Multiple beverages: sweet tea (mixed half and half with unsweet after the first glass) + water + some Sweetwater brews. [Optional pre-dinner kayaking (water-level dependent) at Sope Creek, Sweetwater Creek, or the Chattahoochee. ]
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After reading 150 entries to the transparent narrative writing contest, we chose Notes from a Trailing Spouse by Noah Pelletier.
Here’s an excerpt:
Growing up, I dreamed of one day becoming Papa Smurf. I wasn’t going to replace him when he retired. I was going to be him. My mother still reminds me of this. We were on the phone last week. “You wanted to be Papa Smurf. Remember that?” It was my most ambitious career goal, but then again, it’s the only one I can recall.
In November of 2005, I moved to Virginia to be a medical claims adjuster. A childhood friend named Franklin had gotten me in touch with the right people. My waking hours were devoted to people injured in and around motor vehicles. Almost every case had a police report. Terrible accidents came with photos.
I’d call the injured at home, or the hospital, or wherever they might have been. They’d tell me where it hurt, and I’d type it into a computer. My manager’s mantra was “Pay what we owe.” I tried to appease him by familiarizing myself with insurance policies, and keeping my feet off the desk. After nine hours of talking to people about pain, I’d hop into my car and speed home.
***
I was allotted four paid weeks of vacation per year. In May of 2006, I sunk a bag of weed to the bottom of a shampoo bottle and flew to Utah. When I landed in Salt Lake City, I rented a car and drove down to Canyonland National Park, a vast area of high desert. Before leaving, a coworker asked me where I was going for vacation.
I told him: “I’m going on a Vision Quest!”
A Vision Quest is a rite of passage in some Native American cultures. As a white American, I only adopted certain aspects of this ritual.
***
This is something I discovered after five days in the high desert of Utah:The motive behind mankind’s quest for knowledge is “intellectual restlessness.” (My wife taught me the phrase enclosed in quotation marks. I am using it now to restore any credibility that may have been lost due to the drug reference.)
Experimenting with American geography brought me one step closer to being a world traveler, hence, a trailing spouse. Little did I know, the universe was preparing a serendipitous end to my career as a claims adjuster.
Cell stories turned one year old today. They published one of my stories, Los Pitayeros last fall. I think it was the only story I’ve published where afterward I couldn’t read it (didn’t / don’t have a droid / iphone).