Day 29–Winchester, TN

July 14, 2021,

I’ve had two interactions with police now in Winchester. Why is it that the place I’ve felt least welcome is my hometown? 

I’ll start with the most recent incident and work toward the first that happened soon after I arrived. That one was more disturbing because of extenuating circumstances and I don’t feel ready to describe it because of tiredness not emotional fragility. Also, the sun is about to go down and I’d like to get back to camp before it is dark. 

Last night I woke up from a solid sleep with a flash light in my face. “Come out of there,” I heard a voice say.

“Huh? What? Who is it?” 

I hadn’t bothered to put my curtains up. After all, I wasn’t boondocking. I paid ten bucks to the town of Estill Springs for each of the two nights I’ve now stayed in the City Park. 

“It’s the police. Now come out of there.”

“I can’t see who it is with that light in my face. Can you show me who you are?” I asked.

“I’m not taking the light off you. I don’t know what you have in there,” the voice came back. 

A little jolt of fear came into me for the first time. I waited for a laugh. That would tell me I was really in trouble.

The city park is off highway 41A. You turn over train tracks and pass by the town little league field before you hit a dog-bone shape of land that pokes out into Tims Ford Lake.  The campsites are at the far bulb end. I’ve seen people fishing and swimming during the day, but mostly I’ve seen people that drive out and just sit in their truck or car. It’s a beautiful spot. The lake is a sprawling fissure that covers a number of towns and communities. It’s fed by the Elk River in the northeast near my campsite and empties on the southwest end about ten miles away. 

mural of Tims Ford

The first night, a newer model, black sedan was parked overnight. That was it.  A man got out in the morning, pulled out a fishing pole, and made a few casts in the lake before leaving. 

Last night when I came back from eating in a restaurant on the Winchester town square there was a truck and a car parked together with a tent set up nearby. 

“What are you doing; just passing through?” I heard the voice ask.

“I’m from here,” I said. “Why do you want me to come out of my truck?” I asked the voice hidden behind the bright beam. 

“This is a paid camping spot. You’ve got to move.” 

I was incredulous. I had a big yellow tag given to me by the friendly woman at the one room, carpeted town hall with two service windows—one for Fines, Taxes, Licenses, and Permits  and the other for Utility Bills.

“I’ve got a permit. It’s up there on my dash.” 

Dazed, I couldn’t think of the more exact words to describe it hanging from the rearview mirror. In front of your damn face if you had bothered to look, I wanted to say.  I’d parked facing the road after all. 

“Oh you do?”

For the first time the light came down for a second long enough from me to see half a uniform and a partner nearby with POLICE written in big yellow letters across a windbreaker.

“Do I need to move? Am I in the wrong spot?” I asked, still trying to understand. There are assigned spots but no numbers to clarify so I had just guessed. It didn’t seem to matter since the park was all but empty. I started taking off the vice grips that keep someone from opening the flip up window while I’m inside.

I heard the partner mumble something.  “No you are alright.”

Then with sudden powers of investigation that were somehow absent when it came to looking for the camping permit the officer asked, “How did you get hurt? Did you do that yourself?” 

My wrist that had a big white gauze taped to it, came into view when I was taking off the left vice grip. 

“Oh I did something stupid trying to climb a cliff over there in the lake.”

“Okay. Well have a goodnight,” the voice said. The light went off and they left. I laid there for a long time thinking WTF?

There was rain again last night before bed.
For police that supposedly patrol this park every night you’d think they would look first for the required permit before waking up occupants. This morning the city clerk told me the legitimate campers are usually in pull campers not so much in single vehicles. Still, she had told the police day crew that I was there. Sounds like the night crew didn’t get the message. It was 11:20 when they woke me up. Fortunately I wasn’t shot while reaching for my glasses.  She said there have been problems with drug dealing and prostitution at this park.
The lake at 6:15 this morning.
I was born in this parking lot. Actually there was a roof over my head and it was a small Winchester hospital.
From pictures of the hospital I got from the library I surmised that this large pecan tree is about four or five years older than me. One thing that has surprised me from this trip is how huge trees can get in 56 years.