First Flight: The Ride (Really) Begins

First Flight: The Ride (Really) Begins

Finally. The Ride begins.

The day we’ve been waiting for since January has arrived.

We climbed aboard the newly polished and waxed Harley and headed out of Toano under graying skies. Jason instructed me not to think about the weather and I nodded in agreement, silently bargaining with any Angel who would listen, and hopefully help.

Luckily, they did. Despite an air heavy and thick with moisture, the silver clouds that threaded themselves through the faint blue skies eventually unraveled, offering glimpses of sunshine and dissipating the threat of rain.

I’d forgotten the exhilaration of riding on the back of the bike, the rush of the wind around me, flying without ever leaving the ground. The landscape rolled past like images projected from the reel of a favorite silent movie; the familiar acres of budding corn, magnolia blossoms bursting brilliantly white against their backdrop of glossy green black leaves, stoic barns weathered and worn, cows meandering through tall grasses, a church spire reaching towards heaven itself. 

James B. Norfleet, Confederate Soldier

Today’s ride would take us to Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, but a spontaneous u-turn in Suffolk, Virginia took us to Cedar Hill Cemetery.  As we pulled up to the gates, I leaned into Jason and asked with obvious skepticism in my voice, “You’re taking me to a cemetery?” “Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly, “I saw something about a Confederate grave as we passed it and I thought you’d like to see it.” I couldn't contain my smile.

I love old cemeteries and the stories they inaudibly tell, but more, I am filled with curiosity about who these people were and the lives they led.  We’ve been to numerous National cemeteries along our ride routes, some planned, others not, and I am always sobered by the rows and rows of uniformly marked headstones marking the final resting places of the fathers, brothers and husbands who died in the Civil War. But the National cemeteries are for Union soldiers; the vast majority of those who died fighting for the South are buried where they fell, or by the benevolence of societies like the Daughters of the Confederacy or Sons of Confederate Veterans, buried namelessly in small confederate cemeteries.

Confederate Monument

Cedar Hill Cemetery contains a monument to all Confederate soldiers that served and died during the Civil War. The memorial, erected in 1899, is cased in bronze and was designed by John P. Hall of Norfolk, Virginia.  The graves of Confederate soldiers are interspersed among the other interments, some identified, others not. With thousands of interments, there wasn’t time to look around with the intensity I normally would, but it was a nice surprise nonetheless.

We rolled into Kitty Hawk around 2:00 and checked into our hotel, right on the ocean. I’m actually sitting on our balcony now, watching giggling children romp on the beach, waves crest in the shore, fishermen with lines cast off the distant pier, and the occasional pelican dive headlong into the surf looking for its dinner.

We wandered across the street to The Rundown for lunch, a multi-leveled, decked restaurant featuring a menu with a Caribbean flair.  I zeroed in on the steamed shrimp and ordered that with a side of coconut rice. Jason had the chicken taco supremo, not your traditional tacos, and he was thrilled to find they had Bass on tap.

View from the balcony

After lunch, we decided to skip the Wright Brothers National Park and opted instead to sit on the Adirondack rockers outside the hotel and listen to the gulls and ocean, with a few adult beverages, of course. It was a great way to wind down.

Every weather report called for 80% chance of rain, so we were 100% certain that we weren’t going to take the bike out again tonight and wandered across the street again, this time to High Cotton, where all they do is barbeque. With an interior reminiscent of Colonel Poole’s in East Ellijay, Georgia, we were seated at tables covered in red and white gingham and served root beer in Styrofoam cups. I had the pulled chicken plate with hush puppies and Jason had the brisket plate with (real) macaroni and cheese. It was a tangy, spicy, sloppy, delicious, lick your fingers clean mess. We thoroughly enjoyed it!

Now we’re just waiting for that 80% chance of rain to 100% materialize, looking forward to a good night sleep and tomorrow’s ride to Wilmington.