Back at the Crossroad

Three long years it has been since I set foot in Stately Wilson Manor, in Hertford, NC — one of the longest, if not the longest, spells of Trish & David Niall Wilson deprivation on record. Since Dave and I became acquainted in the mid-to-late 1980s, getting together to conduct business, socialize, and terrorize the populace has been a time-honored tradition. Wilson Manor is the home base of Crossroad Press, which I’ve been thrilled to have as my publisher for the majority of my full-length works of fiction since the year 2010, there or about. 

Unfortunately, due to her work schedule, Brugger couldn’t accompany me on this trip, so the Wilson clan was forced to suffer me as me, not the “tempered-by-my-better-half” me. More’s the pity, for all of us; however, they survived, and I survived, and over the course of the weekend, I think we ended up committing only minor felonies (with no convictions).

I left Greensboro fairly early on Friday, November 4. Another crucial aspect of this long-running tradition is to hunt geocaches on the roughly 250-mile drive from Greensboro to Hertford (as well as on the return trip, naturally). My favorite location was somewhere east of Raleigh, on a dead-end road that went a good mile or so into what appeared to be deserted woods. Where it turned off from the main road, though, I discovered, hidden among the nearby trees, a handful of gravestones that dated back to the early 20th Century. It seemed an odd place to find graves, but at least no one was shambling about, moaning, and/or bitching. At the far end of the road, I discovered a jack-o’-lantern, complete with a candle inside (unlit in the daylight). Given the isolation of the area, I have no idea for whose benefit the jack-o’-lantern existed, but it sure made for a cool — and reasonably creepy — setting for a geocache.

I had to take an extensive detour near Rocky Mount, which I later learned was because a tractor-trailer truck carrying explosives overturned on US 64, forcing a long section of road to be closed on Friday. (I don’t think anything or anyone blew up, and they got the road reopened before I headed back on Sunday.)

Lunch at a place called Ribeyes Steakhouse (an excellent burger, fries, and drink, all for $9), a few more caches, and I arrived in Hertford a few minutes before 5:00 p.m. To my surprise, no one was home. But a ghostly voice bade me enter by way of a secret code, so I soon enough settled myself in at Stately Wilson Manor in the company of at least half a dozen cats, all of whom seemed excited as hell to see me.*

*Mostly, they ran and hid, except for Brother Tomas, who railed at me for having failed to visit him sooner. After a while, the lot of them came around and made me feel welcome, especially once I offered them treats.

It wasn’t long before the more frightening inhabitants of the house arrived, with their son Bill in tow. There was much rejoicing, pouring of spirits, catching up, plotting, scheming, burying evidence, etc. Eventually, we made our way to dinner at Volcano, a decent Japanese restaurant we’ve enjoyed on several past trips. The sushi dinner was awesome. Once back at the house, more spirits flowed, and certain of us (not me, of course) built up formidable hangovers.

I don’t know what time we all wandered off to bed. It wasn’t early. Or maybe it was very early, I dunno.

A tiny graveyard at the entrance to a dead-end road through the woods

Cotton fields back home...

Giorgio Wilson upon catching a glimpse of the bar at Stately Wilson Manor

On Saturday, we spent the morning recuperating (well, those who needed to recuperate did so), talking creative business (with possible new plans set in motion), and recuperating (oh, wait...). Dave, Bill, and I killed lunch at a little joint called Currituck BBQ Company, where the food was great and the sound of banjos playing out back wasn’t too loud. I found a cache.

Dr. Dave and editorial assistant

Afterward, we headed back for more scheming, plotting, and businessing, all the while avoiding the need for any later recuperating. Come dinnertime, we hit Plaza Azteca in Elizabeth City, where, honest to Yog, I tore into some of the best Mexican food I’ve had since I don’t know when: birria tacos, which are corn tortillas soaked in birria broth and stuffed with beef, Chihuahua cheese sauce, and cilantro, topped with cabbage and cheese, served with broth and hot tomatillo sauce. For accompaniment, I had one margarita, which was big and tasty, but not very strong. Probably for the best, under the circumstances.

For the evening’s entertainment, we watched Nope, director Jordan Peele’s latest film, which we all loved. The Wilsons had already seen it, but this was my first time, and I would have to call it the best fright film I’ve seen all year — and better than most from many years prior. I’m looking forward to Ms. B. taking a look at it. I expect it’s going to be a keeper for us. After Nope, we watched Peter Jackson’s 1996 horror comedy, The Frighteners, which I saw when it first came out; don’t think I’ve seen it since. My impression then was none too positive, but this time around, I found it slightly more amusing. It’s not particularly funny, but it does have its moments. Michael J. Fox has always been a favorite of mine, and he’s fine in this movie.

Again, it was a very late night — all the more so because of the time change. At least some of us were still awake when it came time to roll back the clocks at 2:00 a.m....

Birria tacos at Plaza Azteca in Elizabeth City

Brother Tomas watching Nope

This morning — Sunday — I accompanied Dave to his office, where he kindly gifted me a copy of his latest fiction collection, The Devil’s in the Flaws & Other Dark Truths, which I’ll be reading and reviewing at the earliest possibility. Then it was time for this old man to hit the road to return to Greensboro. Today, there were no detours. I stopped for a few caches and got home around 3:00 p.m., to find a pile of business to handle. At this point, most of it is handled. Or at least in the early stages of handling. Whatever, it’s handled.

And so endeth another stay at Stately Wilson Manor, and I sure as hell hope the next gathering with Clan Wilson isn’t as far in the future as the previous one was in the past.

Yeah, I think that pretty much worked.

Bear!