This was originally published in the Journal on August 14, 2021, and reprinted last year in Stardust and Scar Tissue.
The three greatest pilgrimages on the planet are the Camino de Santiago ― the 600-mile trek through Spain and France in the footsteps of St. James; the Hajj ― the once-in-a-lifetime journey to holy Mecca; and the drive to Ben’s Ice Cream in Eagle Springs, N.C.
Well … OK, not really. But thanks to recent readings and musings, I had those other notable journeys in mind when I finally decided to return to Ben’s.
Ben’s Ice Cream is a little roadside attraction I stumbled across some 15 years ago while on my way home from a golf exhibition in Southern Pines. Owned by the family that owns the adjacent Kalawi Farm, it’s been making and selling its own ice cream for gosh knows how long. It’s only about 90 minutes away from here, and along the way are a few very cute little towns worth exploring.
I wouldn't drive 90 minutes just for ice cream. Probably.
There’s no need to get there early unless you want to have ice cream for breakfast, so I left my home in Washington Park around 10 a.m. Saturday, planning to meander.
I took I-40 east to I-74, then, just south of Asheboro, switched to the two-lane Business 220, which is much more interesting than the highway. I paused in tiny Star to check the condition of the spookiest house I’ve ever seen, a block off Main Street, an abandoned Victorian with tall gables that looks like a set from “Dark Shadows.”
I wish I could show you pictures, but nature has now overgrown it, too thickly for comfortable exploration, especially during tick season.
A little further south in Biscoe, I detoured onto N.C. Highway 24 to have a peek at Troy, where I wasted half an hour in a flea market. No fox knickknacks, alas. The small town has a comic book store, though, a sure sign of intelligent life.
In Candor, I turned east onto N.C. Highway 211 and drove 5 more miles.
Ben’s hasn’t changed much since the last time I was there. It consists of four or five wooden structures, depending on how you count them, including a log cabin and an extensive produce stand.
The specialty is peaches: several different varieties as well as peach jam and peach salsa.
The ground is covered with the kind of sand and pine needles that I associate with the eastern part of the state. There are picnic tables, swings and a playground.
The temperature was a comfortable and surprising 72 degrees and the place was fairly crowded with mostly mask-wearing families.
There are many ice cream flavors including peach, strawberry, cherry, vanilla and various chocolates. I chose banana for my first scoop, in a cup, and sat on one of the creaky porch swings.
The fruit flavor was obvious but not overbearing. It wasn’t too sweet or rich; it was light and delicious.
My next scoop was pineapple and I got it on a giant sugar cone. It was just as enjoyable.
Dessert was chocolate peanut butter.
Honestly, I could have eaten more, but I didn’t want to make myself sick.
While letting the ice cream settle, I talked with a couple of ladies at a table near me. “We come here every weekend,” one of them told me, “unless we go to Charlotte.”
“What do you go to Charlotte for?” I asked.
“Everything except ice cream,” the other one said, and they both laughed. There are no bookstores near Eagle Springs, they explained, no movie theaters.
But there’s no Ben’s Ice Cream in Charlotte.
Access to I-74 was close by, so the journey home was quick.
My trip to Ben’s wasn’t a real pilgrimage, of course, but it was a nice respite from the daily grind, from news and COVID.
A pilgrimage is, essentially, a prolonged journey taken to a specific destination in order to reach a particular goal, maybe to visit a shrine or meet an obligation. In literature, common elements include challenging obstacles, extended solitude, mysterious strangers and, after trials, enlightenment. It often has religious or mystical connotations, but that’s not essential.
The pilgrim hopes that the privations of the journey, along with the effort put forth to reach the goal, will lead to a transformation, as fire purges the sword of the steel’s imperfections.
I sense there’s a true pilgrimage or two in my future.
Sometimes I wish America would take a pilgrimage. The goal might be greater understanding and national unity.
We’ve certainly had the challenges of a pilgrimage these last few years. But as a nation, we don’t seem to have experienced any positive transformation ― no increase in humility or wisdom. No enlightenment, no grace earned or given. Instead, I sometimes sense an increase in cruelty and arrogance, almost a determination among some to be abrasive.
That’s not the pilgrim’s path. We took a wrong turn somewhere.
Come with me, America. Let’s find the right way together. I’ll buy you an ice cream.
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Join Press 53 publisher Kevin Watson and me on a road trip to Ben’s Ice Cream at 1 p.m. Saturday, Aug. 24; details here.
Nice, Mick. Peace, love, and ice cream. I'll take peach.