Nelson and Forester Creek

 I was going to title this all RV Parks are not the same.The past two nights we stayed in one in Mebane near Durham that was amazing, the Jones it was such a beautiful setting and everything was so clean and well taken care of. Site #30. Tonight we are n thecWest KOA in Asheville. Nice setting, nice people. We have this cool young family behind us in a cool silver airstream.They played grea tmusic and a s the night ended the dad took out his guitar. We are always the smallest camper. We have had our share f problems ... batter, no air conditioning although we don't need it now and the past few nights no lights. I hate no lights. We have our solar goal zero light but that only helps so much and that is not what we paid for. Today I cooked real eggs for breakfast. We have had two McDonalds scrambled eggs and they are terrible so I wanted real scrambled eggs. Fruit cups and garlic toast cooked on the burner finished the meal. We were going to go straight to Asheville but Jenny Smoot Preece had told me about a slave plantation, Stageville Plantation, near where she and Steve had lived when they were  here, so we went there. We were the only people, so got a short tour and then a small car ride to the other part of the plantation. But I still felt like I needed to find Foresters Creek (Note : it is now Forest Creek which flows into the South Fork of Little River. I finally found Forest Creek (now named) on  google maps. We tried a couple of  times. It was near the town Sh.  I had tried the day before to find it but no way ... it was a lot cause and I thought it was going to be a   lost cause today, but I felt propelled to find it.  Michel Groat  may have been born on and lived on this property that was owned by Robert Davis and possibly also William Davis, both of whom went to Canada after  the Revolution. Another try and again I marked the spot on google maps. It took us to a private community and when we  got out I had Steve sit by the side of the road while I took another look. I though I had it and up pulled a  white car with the light on it. Yes, it was the postman and who knows the area better than a postman. He confirmed my thoughts and we set off in the opposite direction down  the road, a  turn, another turn and finally a  bridge over Forest Creek. I could not determine the piece of  land by the old m ap I had as roads were not marked and lands were not the same divisions.  If I had been more prepared and followed up the old map with subsequent maps I may have come closer. We went u p a  long lane and  I knocked at the door and a man y ounger than  I answered. He was very sucpicious but finally told me we were in the right area, but without road names, like Hunt, he couldn't give us more information. Why do I do  this? It really doesn't matter and that is true, but there is a magic, peace, respect in walking the roads and lands where ancestors may have walked and lived. It is sacred to me and  maybe so  many don't understand it, but I feel it. Maybe it  is like they walk with me, or they are  at l east pleased with my effort to get to know them better. It's been a long  trip, but it's moments like these tha tmake it worthwhile. I am glad I didn't give up.