Turn Right on Swamp Road

I have been fortunate to travel extensively across these United States over the past nine years, I have driven through cities large and small; some tiny enough to be unincorporated, some flitting with people and cars enough to make my head spin. While I find a certain pleasure in visiting landmarks in big cities, where I truly come alive is in the middle of nowhere.

One such place was a recent speaking engagement I had in Hillsboro, Ohio at Sugar Tree Ridge Church of Christ. The church is actually located in the unincorporated town of Sugar Tree Ridge, whose name, just by saying it, automatically warms my heart. Most of my hour drive the morning I spoke was on the interstate. Once I exited, I was in the land of heavenly love as far as I’m concerned. The air smells different, it’s crisp and clean like the sheets my mother would hang on the line to dry when I was a little girl. One whiff and my blood pressure magically goes down. My thoughts become more lucid and the colors of the landscape intensify. I was using the GPS on my phone to guide me to the church. I was less than one mile away when I was instructed to turn right onto Swamp Road. I smiled big and felt my eyes brighten. I thought to myself, “You have officially arrived to the middle of nowhere when you turn right on Swamp Road.”

I was smack in the middle of the heartland. Some would say this place was in a “fly-over state,” a state not worthy of stopping in. A friend and I call them “drive through states” because we love the adventure and discovery that comes with taking the road less travelled. In doing this, I have learned that catfish is delicious and some of the best BBQ and beef jerky can be found at gas stations whose storefronts are anything but inviting. The gas pumps at the place with the mouth watering jerky were not electronic. Remember when you could just lift the handle, fill your tank and then go inside and pay? Yep, the good ol’ days! If you recall this, then you probably kept a dime in your pocket at one time in case you needed to make a phone call.

In my growing up years, my grandparents had a cabin three hours north of where we lived. The further away from the city we got, the more excited I became. The last two turns would enliven the anticipation of arrival. I couldn’t wait to get there. I knew every curve of the roads that were lined for miles with birch, pine and ash trees. I came to love the contrast of an azure sky against the rich green pines and the golden yellow the ash leaves would turn in the fall. My grandfather taught us how to dig for our own worms for fishing as soon as we were big enough to hold a shovel. The smell of rich, black soil still makes me think of worms. The cabin was on a lake with no public access, it was always quiet, except for the songbirds, the cry of the loons and the occasional bald eagles calling out their territory. There is no question my love of the outdoors and being in the middle of nowhere was born from the countless weekends spent at the cabin.

On one of my trips last fall, a friend and I followed a map that was made for off road driving. This was not a typical map. He showed me how to read it by counting how many lines, which were unmarked roads, until the next turn. We purposefully drove from one day’s destination to the next using this method. We never saw another vehicle, only millions of pine trees. We both wondered out loud how so many came to be there. Did someone plant them a hundred years ago with a foresight of the beauty they would create or the mystery they would invoke from future travelers? Later in that trip we took the backseat in a friends four wheeler for a sunset drive to the top of a nearby mountain. Our driver had lived in the area for many years and knew the miles of dirt roads like the back of his hand. On the way back down, we got covered in dirt from being in the back seat. It was in my mouth, in my hair and all over us and our dogs. We laughed as it was happening and again as we got back to camp and had to clean up. I’ll take that experience over an amusement park anyday.

I have watched the totality of the eclipse from the top of a private mountain in rural North Carolina, I purchased “million dollar beans” from a roadside stand at the edge of Flatrock, SC. They were the best pickled green beans I’ve ever had. I found the purest, sweetest honey at a small farmers market in Florida and viewed the Milky Way like I’ve never seen it from a primitive campground in Arkansas. It seems to me there are a million places to explore in this beautiful country. I am on a perpetual mission to find as many as possible.

When I left the church in Hillsboro, I plugged the next stop into my GPS and then did exactly the opposite of what it told me. I passed several other churches, a handful of cemeteries and took notice of how many houses were adorned with our magnificent flag waving in the breeze. There were neighborhoods of homes spotted along the way, but mostly they were spread out between the acres of farms. There were active tractors stirring up dust in the fields and families outside picnicking under the warm summer sun. I could practically smell the fried chicken and homemade goodness as I drove past.

As I turned each corner or rounded a curve, my heart swelled with gratitude for the opportunities I have been given to speak and travel. J.R.R. Tolkein said, “Not all those who wander are lost,” this certainly represents me. In fact, the more I have chosen to be lost at times, the more I have found myself. I feel an enormous sense of being loved as I travel. My heart and soul jump for joy when I head for the middle of nowhere to share my story. I come away with new stories from new places made with new friends. Chevrolet had a jingle a couple decades ago called “The Heartbeat of America,” it painted the picture that their cars traveled on the roads all over the country thus representing The Heartbeat of America. My car is not a Chevy, but has taken me north, south, east and west to experience the heartbeat of the middle of nowhere. You will find it after you turn right on Swamp Road, the last turn before I reach my happy place.