Carolina Beach was incredibly mellow. It marked the first truly worthy day of sleeveless shirt weather which was a major turning point in the odyssey. I met an older gentleman, retired, by the name of Grady, who took a profound interest in The Witch. Grady's wife hide died two weeks prior, since then he had been wandering from state park to state park with no plan or direction, living in his Toyota Camry with his dog who's name I have already forgotten. He had money, he explained, and a home that he had shared with his wife that he was eager to sell. We spoke of love and loss and senseless wandering when the fog is too thick to choose a point on the map with any kind of informed clarity. Grady will be getting a van in the next few weeks, inspired by Thee Witch, and he will wander like I am, agreeing that the true heart of the trip is in the search itself and not a person or thing to search for. This is something I am coming to see more clearly now as the days pass, and I'm thankful for that chance conversation with Grady to give that sentiment more substance and tooth.