To my faithful follower, who travels these roads as much as I.

I often forget how fate can play a role in life. I suppose we all live in safe, uneventful steps most of the time and there is no need to pay it respects. I went early the next morning (Friday 02nd July) to meet with a local official in Elkin who co-ordinates activities among groups of young people who have had experiences with the law, only to find that he was bitten by a Deer tick whilst out hunting. I am told that this is a bad thing, potentially fatal, due to the diseases such things can introduce to the body. The man is unavailable. I felt more than a little frustrated by this as I had travelled some distance to meet with this man, and I stopped on the street to think about what to do next. After a moment I realised a black man was waving me into the shop I was staring in the window of. It was a barbers shop and, as I was in need, in I stepped. Within a few sentences he had figured out where I was from and what I was doing in town. He "tol" me all about his shops (he has three) and how he had started them to provide training and employment for local youths who had trouble with the law.

"Man, fate brought you in mo shop this day" he shouted. He is 36, he committed a crime in Raleigh when he was 17 and is now a convicted criminal. As such he can hold no public office or job, cannot visit Canada, Mexico etc, and is barred from receiving and state or federal aid for his project. We talked for about an hour, and I promised to talk about him and his work to those within the justice system that I meet later in the trip.

I drive to Asheville, in the far west, high, high up in the Mountains. I have a 2.5 litre Nissan but it struggles to make it up some passes and I pass massive trucks crawling along in low gear, engines howling. On the down sections there are numerous escape routes for runaway trucks, signs advise cars to look out, and make room for fast moving trucks coming up from the rear. I take the advice seriously but there are no such incidences. But before arriving there, in the town of Boone (named after Daniel, an Ulster - Scot) I detour on a whim to Grandfather Mountain State Park. Wonderful walks, views and wildlife. Eagles, both Bald and Golden, abound. I see 3/4 bears and otters. I climb a trail and I am out of breath with only a little exertion. The air is thin and there is a sign telling me I am a mile up from sea level, on the highest peak in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It is a wonderful place. A guide told me on a clear day you can see for 75 miles. I believed him. This day was hazy, a bluish haze hung at about 25 miles distant, but such was the scenery, I could have stared until the sun went down and the big bears came out. I walk down to to car with a group of young men who appear wild and, if I had been at home, I would have described them as threatening. They are wild only with the joy of being young and living in this wonderful place and, despite my old man cynicism I feel a little of their lust for life enter me and I laugh in a way that I had forgotten I could.

I leave late and only make it to Asheville at nightfall. I go into the town to eat and I immediately like the place. It is a strange mix of art deco/victorian and modern buildings and it is HUMMING! ?About 30 djembi drummers have take over the central square and there must be 1,000 people packed into a tiny triangle of grass and park space, all swaying and dancing to the beat. I see the Park Warden in his van looking a little worried and then a Police Officer arrives in a futuristic electric golf buggy type thing. He is fat and he is wearing a very tight fitting spandex uniform with panels in dayglow yellow and black. It looks like a Jean Paul Gaulitier design. He appears hassled and sweaty. No one pays him the blindest bit of notice. There is no litter, no crime and everyone I meet smiles and is extremely polite, especially the teenagers, who insist on calling me "Sir". I step into a chocolate cafe for a chocolate pot and some cold sipping chocolate. There is a long queue but the young people who own and run the place keep the crowd entertained with a double bass, an acoustic guitar and a girl in a way too tight red dress signs. Others move up and down the line giving samples of their wares, which are among the best I have ever tasted (you should know that I am somewhat the expert).

Then I find that the town has TWO award winning chocolate manufacturers and 19 micro breweries.

I may never leave.