Thursday, October 8, 2009

Puttin’ on the brakes
October 7, 2009

Rrrrrkkk! That’s the sound of brakes squealing; we’re burning rubber as we come to a screeching halt. We woke up to a bright sunshiny day in a place that feels comfortable and welcoming. This park appears to be part of a working farm, a situation we’ve seen before. We like the atmosphere - sheltered but open to the pastures. And . . . we saw mountains when we went out. Presumably, they were there yesterday but invisible through rain and clouds. The local landmark is Pilot Mountain with a chimney-like protuberance up top, certainly deserving of its name.

And . . . Melissa, my southern cultural and tour advisor, has pointed me in the direction of this region’s multitude of wineries, and even worse/better: Mrs. Travis Hanes’ handmade Moravian cookie factory.

And . . . the owner of Holly Ridge, our temporary abode, is willing to drop us off to go kayaking on the Yadkin River so that we can fish to our hearts’ content.

And . . . we have discovered that we have more ancestral presence here than we first realized, much more. These are our Quaker ancestors, although they mostly seem to have been disfellowshipped (as the Friends term kicking you out) - our Jacob Brown because of his Revolutionary War service and his wife because she married him.

Therefore . . . we may stick at this spot a bit longer than originally anticipated, and with a good bit of enthusiasm . . . must do Moravian cookies . . . must do winery tour(s) . . . must find ancestors . . . must be on water: I can feel those fish biting now.

River kayaking is difficult when we’re traveling because of needing a pick-up at the end to get us back to our truck or the other way around. Evidently, there is a good approximate five-mile stretch of the Yadkin near here. Greg will drop us off after we leave the Toter at the end, so we can take all the time we want. We got ten-day fishing licenses for $10, a real deal compared to most places for nonresidents, and hope to take full advantage of another forecast perfect day, even up to 80 degrees, the weatherman tells us.

So in a high good humor, we set off for the county seat of Surry County - Dobson - this morning, quickly distracted by a super produce stand where I flipped out and bought local sweet potatoes, raw peanuts, side pork, onions, bell peppers, jalapenos, lima beans, and acorn squash. I love shopping at places that have all different and local produce. This place was a collection of added-on rickety rooms so jam-packed with produce and locally canned products that you had to take time to work your way into various walkways to see everything. I made stuffed peppers for supper - yummy!

When we finally got to the Dobson public library, we found a paltry dusty local history collection, from which we surprisingly did extract some material. We were walking distance from the plain-Jane courthouse, so we bopped on over there, only to discover that the entire place is now the County Attorney’s digs. We were dispatched around the corner to the new real courthouse.

As impressive as a setup as we’ve encountered after researching in scores of courthouses: Dobson County was a delightful place to seek those who came before. All the material is laminated and placed in logical order in new binders that weigh probably only 20 pounds instead of the old type that hefts even heavier. In addition, the deeds are digitized and so can be sought on their conveniently placed computers and copied from there. We went with our tried-and-true method of getting our exercise lifting and lowering books, though. The staff pointed us in the right direction and got out of our way. The copier was handy. And the copies were 25¢ each as opposed to some states, such as Arizona and Colorado, that charge $20 but mostly won’t even let you look at marriage records unless you are the wed-ee (that’s a word, isn’t it?). There was ample working space, well-lighted, even cushy mats on which to stand. We have done some pretty uncomfortable research - digging into dusty bins while crammed into tiny closets, enduring chain-smoking clerks with smoldering cigarettes in overflowing ashtrays in airless vaults, etc.

We located lots of family marriages and ancestral deeds. The only glitch was in getting George Hoppes' will; it was in one of three books that were in such poor condition that they were sent to Raleigh for conservation, so we’ll have to call over there and hope to get a copy. We already have a transcription of it, but we’re adamant about having original documents wherever possible. Transcriptions are prone to mistakes, ours and theirs.

As we were departing, Chris asked one of the clerks about where to obtain fishing licenses. She didn’t know but asked another clerk. She didn’t know either; however, she was on the phone with a magistrate, so she asked him, and he knew and gave us directions. How many times does a person get directions for a fishing license from a magistrate while he’s working? Wonderfully small-town - perfect!

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