Is Deltaville the nicest town ever?

Monday, 7th June, day 598, 10.904 miles. 37° 47’.62 N, 076° 19’.56 W. Deltaville, Virginia

Is Deltaville the nicest town ever? It takes small-town friendliness to new levels. Hurd’s hardware store (motto “If we don’t have it, you don’t need it” – well, that would be true if we weren’t finicky boaters wanting everything in marine-grade stainless steel) boasts the tireless Roy, who not only searched through all his shelves for something approximating to our needs, but took us out back to his workshop where he had a collection of cast-off bits “bound to come in useful someday” from where he dug out 75¢ worth of thing-a-ma-bob which will do the job perfectly. The library was selling off its unwanted books; the most friendly librarian ever took time off from her lunch-time muffin to help me sort through the dusty shelves of American History to find the two most appropriate volumes. And to cap it all, we were lucky enough to meet the cheerful and generous Hop Murfee (and later the gentle Genia), who not only gave a lift to two strangers trekking off to the supermarket for provisions, but waited for us while we whizzed round, and then drove us two miles back to the boat. But, wait for this, Hop isn’t a vicar or a teacher or someone from whom you might expect spontaneous kindness – he’s a realtor (estate agent). A town where the estate agents are selflessly helpful to complete strangers – that’s somewhere special.