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My 0600 alarm seems to be beeping in my ear only moments after setting it–I didn’t get much sleep last night. We are up quickly and removing the evidence of our intrusion into this parking lot, and we’re on the road only moments later. Starbucks, which we’ve managed to avoid thus far, is the only place open this early, so we stop in to use the bathroom and have coffees. Stephanie and I agree that the girl who prepares our drinks is really cute ;o)
A quick dip of our front tires in the Atlantic ocean, and then onward to GAINESVILLE! :oD
206 takes us off Anastasia Island and will eventually connect us to 207, but not before busting my front tube going over the bridge. A pea-sized shard of brown glass proves the culprit, and we’re on our way before long. Its early, and traffic is light–before we know it we’ve connected to 207 and we’re making our way into Hastings, a small potato town about 30 miles from St. Augustine. After a quick rest at a service station, we’re back on the road, and leaving town, we’re passing sign [PALATKA 10] as I note the time. Imagine our pleasant surprise when we roll into Palatka a mere 30 minutes later. We have a bit of tailwind today, and the terrain seems slightly downhill, but no doubt we are burning our path! Most of my ventures around Gainesville move at about 15MPH. For us to move at 20MPH (with full touring gear) feels fantastic!
We find a place for a late breakfast called Egans, and posing for pictures, use our fingers to add the missing “V” haha! After breakfast we find the junction for 20 (Hawthorne Road!) and we’re only 42 miles from home. And I’m moving! Stephanie is drafting me as I’ve found some amazing energy! I’m in no rush to get home (although my proximity is likely contributing to my burst of power) but I’m expending a lot of energy just because it feels so good. No mantras today. I am completely in my body in a very trance like state–feet spinning, fingers clicking, eyes scanning, body acting. And then we’re in Hawthorne and seeking the Hawthorne end of the Gainesville-Hawthorne Rail Trail. But we passed up our opportunity to call those friends!
At the trail head we meet Terry, a former racing cyclist. He’s decked out in head-to-toe spandex, and he’s riding a remarkable Specialized that has everything you could want in a road bike. Again we swap stories and enjoy some chocolate together before deciding that the three of us could keep each other company for the ride back. And Terry tells us the most fascinating stories from his youth–of hitchhiking and of squatting in cabin in the mountains of Colorado, making this last fifteen miles of our trek seem to take only 15 minutes. Stephanie and I created a space for company in this last leg of our journey and the universe provides! I’m certain we were supposed to meet Terry, and that he was supposed to meet us, even if just for 15 enjoyable miles of common ground. I’m very pleased to have met him and the interesting cast of characters that crossed paths with Stephanie and myself throughout this journey within.
Back in Gainesville, we make a beeline for Saigon Legend and stuff our faces with Potato Curry w/ Tofu. Its SO good.
This tour/trek/trip/adventure/venture/path/journey took place over twelve days, ten of which were on the road, during a time of year I would normally have spent with family, celebrating the Christmas Holiday (although I no longer identify with Christianity). this year I did something different. I missed my family–I would have enjoyed spending that time with them, but this particular path is the one I needed to walk (or roll) at this time.
The world is full of beautiful people, each of whom are individuals, none of whom are independent. Our paths are individual, but often intertwined. We need each other, and we want to see each other off knowing we have helped. Thought is creative and the universe will provide your creations. I really quite enjoy being on the road. If it weren’t for (…sigh!…) responsibilities and commitments…I’d leave again in a heartbeat.
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” – Anais Nin
About 77 miles today…
About 680 bicycled miles!!!
The sun is coming up faster than our legs are carrying us to the shore, and as we reach the road that wraps through the park, we opt to break into a run so we don’t miss the rebirth of our favourite golden disc into its daily routine. Of course, this notion completely ignores logic–what we have actually woken so early to see is the earth spin rather than the sun rise. But everything is relative, and it is the apparent motion of the sun that tells us we’re on the move. And we are moving as the boardwalk melts away to white Florida sands and my ears fill with the rush of water breaking over water! Jonathan Livingston Seagull and other children of The Great Gull make a pass overhead and I find a stationary point to observe the waking world before me. Stephanie keeps moving–throwing her hands to the sky, flailing every limb–running, jumping, and spinning down the beach, free as the birds in the wind.
The sun takes its time, overcoming not only horizon but also dense cloud cover, making for a slow but grand entrance onto this morning’s stage. In the meantime, the progressive display of colour proves too deep and beautiful for any camera to capture. I can see Stephanie in the distance in what appears to be communion with the horizon–perhaps whirled into a meditative state. Later she tells me she sees dolphins. Eventually, Apollo’s light-laden chariot peeks above the clouds which you might easily mistake for a range of mountains (perhaps I have grown accustomed to seeing them in the distance…).
Back at camp we are visited by a woman named Terry who, in true camper-community style, walks right up and sets down at “our” picnic table for a chat. I feel innately curious about other people, and I suspect many others feel the same way–but its seems often that social constructs get in the way of this natural draw, and so I am really glad that this soul feels free to answer the call. She is intrigued by our bicycles, and we tell our story again for what seems like the millionth time now, but happily, and I’m smiling no less despite the number of times I’ve repeated myself. In truth, the story changes a little every day (and still is!).
Shortly we are on the road again, towards St. Augustine. We don’t have much distance to cover today, and I am kissing the winds again. My energy is a bit low, but I am far more aware of the role my mind plays in this game of spinning sprockets, and manage to keep myself out of that mental pit that cursed my transit to Brunswick.
A1A between Jacksonville Beach and Vilano Beach is mostly beach houses of peculiar architecture, and undoubtedly worth more money than I will see for a long time…! Some areas are nature preserves, but all areas are good cycling, sometimes having a wide enough shoulder that we can ride abreast. And then we see that enormous cross that punctuates the St. Augustine skyline, and rooftop after rooftop of Spanish tile. Two miles from town we stop at at service station to use the restroom, and find ourselves engaged in a conversation with a man intent on encouraging us to keep going. I’m sorry I don’t remember his name, but he was retired, and convinced that we needed to be doing what we were doing while we were young enough to enjoy these pursuits.
It seems every person we talk to can identify with our journey, and that each of them help us realize what we’ve embarked upon. We come to know ourselves best through others–through relationships–and this man’s deep blue eyes urged us forward with his tales of Alaska.
St. Augustine is gorgeous. The weather is no less than perfect, and we breeze into town in the early afternoon–this city is our stopping place for the day, and the short distance traveled today means we can enjoy a well-deserved afternoon relaxing. Quickly, we find our way to a quaint little shop where we buy an exceptional amount of food–vegetarian burritos and hummus with pita and smoothies! And then its chocolate and coffee on the lawn of Castillo de San Marcos where we also enjoy quick naps and reading in the sea breeze.
Our route back to Gainesville will include Hawthorne, and we’ve decided that when we get there we will find our way to the Gainesville-Hawthorne Rail Trail, figuring this will make for a nostalgic sort of homecoming. We entertain the idea of calling ahead to friends who could meet us at the Hawthorne trail head for a grand escort back to Gainesville. We’ll make these calls tomorrow when we have a better estimate of when we’ll arrive in Hawthorne.
I’m intent on finding a particular pizza place for dinner that I think Stephanie will enjoy (I know I will!) and take off my panniers to go find it. With all the weight absent, I am wobbly at first, and then incredibly nimble! I’m zipping around corners and up and down the streets of downtown, but can’t find my place. Eventually one of the horse-drawn carriage drivers clues me in–Pizza Garden has moved to Anastasia Island. This is perfect–Anastasia is our next move–we want to stay there in the state park. Directions in head I zip back to the fort and collect Stephanie and head off to dinner.
The state park is full! So we head to Pizza Garden with hopes that the staff there might have some suggestions for us. No sooner than we place our order do the storm clouds roll in and drench the skies! So we take our time eating and sharing a bottle of Chianti. I think I have consumed most of the bottle, but Stephanie is pretty sauced, and takes pictures for posterity.
Its now very dark and we have no idea where to sleep, so we start finding our way in a Southerly direction, eyes open for urban stealth-camping opportunities. And after a few questionable locations, we finally find a cozy spot among some bushes next to a roped-off parking lot behind a fence behind a for-rent convenience store…whew! We go to sleep late and anticipate waking early to remove ourselves from this location before garnering any attention from anybody.
No sleeping bag, just a head full of Chianti and a need for sleep :o)
About 42 miles today…
How we got here from the Hostel in the Forest perplexes me even now…
I awoke softly this morning, later than most other days in this venture. No alarm roused me from sleep–just that natural lifting of lids that comes with a rising sun and breezy coastal air. My mind is more awake than my muscles and as I’m trying to manipulate myself out of bed, Stephanie pokes her head through the door sporting the brightest smile and offering me a perky “good morning!”–Its a wholly great way to start the day. She offers to prepare a quinoa breakfast while I roll my belongings back into something transportable.
I take time to photograph some of the structures at the hostel, to complement those I took from the canoe last evening. By the time I get to the kitchen, breakfast is nearly ready. But I find a way to be useful, pouring coffee for Stephanie, and making tea for myself. At my request, Stephanie has made an enormous helping of quinoa, and I savour every chewy/nutty bite. Its an amazing food–if you have not yet investigated it, try it!
After breakfast we wash our dishes, and as long as we have the hot water running clean up a few other odd glasses, spoons and plates that are in and around the sink. Our bicycles are packed up and we are ready but before we go we grab a few brooms and sweep the walkways that wrap the domed common areas.
Its just after 0900 and we’re making circles with our feet, leaving the hostel. My knee doesn’t hurt anymore. My seat feels great, and my position is comfortable…renewed! I would like to have stayed longer, but I am also pleased to be back on the road, in that way that Kerouac’s characters always seem happiest when they are On the Road.
US-17 South provides an agreeable path to Florida, and the terrain continues this trend of becoming flatter and flatter. Stephanie asks if I would mind taking the lead. I remember telling her, in casual conversation near the beginning of this trek, that I am not-so-good at pacing. And its true! Whenever I ride anywhere–to work and back, downtown, friends houses, etc., I inevitably find myself clipping along as fast as I can, clicking my index shifters until I’ve reached my best speed. And I don’t think its about getting there sooner or anything so unappreciative of being where I am when I am there, so much as an exhilaration for using my body to its greatest potential.
So, I am a bit worried about maintaining a good pace, but happy to take the headwinds and let Stephanie draft me for miles to come. I check in with her from time to time, and we seem to be pacing agreeably. A precarious steel-grate bridge vibrates us to the edge of Georgia and we expel hoots and huzzahs as we cross the line into Florida, officially adding a fourth state to our winter-y tour. We decide on lunch in Yulee, Florida, and as we pedal into town we stop at a gas station to buy a map (we’ve been figuring out our directions as-we-go since Macon) and ask for the location of a grocery store.
We get directions to a Winn-Dixie, which I’m not looking forward to patronizing (The Beef People…seriously?!?) but we need some fresh fruit and a few other replenishments. I lean my bike into a right-turn lane on a hunch that Winn-Dixie will be just beyond a cluster of trees I can’t see around. I’m wrong, but Stephanie spies a natural foods store, and its an oasis for these hungry travelers! They have everything we’re looking for, and a deli to boot! I get an interesting sandwich made with a lima bean patty and bits from a tempeh salad. I buy more chocolate and spill quinoa all over their floor, but the owners are forgiving and clean up behind me.
Over lunch we examine this new map and set our bearings toward Jacksonville Beach. We’re not sure how far we will get today, and notice that A1A, our road of choice, spans the St. Johns river by ferry just south of the Big and Little Talbot Islands (which are also beautiful state parks–our ride through these islands is delicious). By our estimate, we will end up somewhere South of Amelia Island, but will likely be catching the ferry early tomorrow–and we’re only mostly sure it will be running.
And then suddenly we’re on the ferry and people are getting out of their cars to walk over and talk to us. Some of them use my camera to take our pictures. I eat boiled peanuts and toss the shells to the fishes. The ferry ride is a fun break, and too short! As we make our way South, the sun makes its way West, and the distance between us and nighfall is growing short. We stop in a Baptist church to ask if we can use a piece of their expansive lawn for the night and are met with the expected but unfortunate “insurance liability” line. Where Would Jesus Sleep?…haha! Still, the individuals we spoke to were helpful enough to offer directions to nearby Hanna State park. Its expensive, and Stephanie has to beg them to give us a site (10 minutes after the reservation desk closes) and we setup for the night. We’ve come a long distance for such a late start–just seven miles North of Jacksonville Beach! We’ve even seen a sign or two for St. Augustine, and I don’t think either of us expected to come this close today.
Hanna State park is expansive and coastal and we take a night-walk through a bike trail in an attempt to find the ocean. Light is scarce, and I’m navigating through the trees mostly by the fact that the trail is reflecting just a bit more light than the surrounding scrub. Finally we emerge onto the beach and after dipping my feet in the cryogenic ocean, find a sandy spot in the shadow of a dune to take in the stars. Its rare I get to see so many stars, and I start wondering about the link between urban life (which obscures the stars) and this forgotten notion of our belonging-ness in this vast universe. Wheras most of human history has slept under a star filled sky, the modern miracle of electric light ensures that most of us see only a fraction of the starry night poking through the contrasting black of a light-polluted sky.
A family extroverts their way from the boardwalk onto the sand–they have no idea we’re here and we decide to keep it that way, slipping back toward the campsite unnoticed–pausing only briefly to consider manipulating their discarded shoes into some kind of practical joke, but ultimately leaving them untouched ;o)
Stephanie reads while I take the longest shower of my life, and go to sleep, looking forward to returning to the sand tomorrow to photograph the sunrise.
About 78 miles today…
We wake in front of the Boy Scout’s building in Baxley, GA, and I feel well rested. This third day of our tour across the underbelly of confederate Georgia begins with flax-and-oatmeal breakfast and a stop in the same Huddle House where we found such gracious help last night!
One slumber-y cup of coffee later we’re packing up and setting out across fresh asphalt (US-23 is being widened into Baxley, and we are riding on the new part, not yet open to traffic, so we’re watching out for officials). With the beep of his horn a man pulls over and flags us down–he is the brother of Judy who made those calls last night. With all smiles he asked us how our stay was and wishes us well. Stephanie and I joke about how famous we feel!
This ride out of Baxley pours us into a slight decline and so for the first thirty miles or so we are rolling relatively easily, keeping a steady pace and enjoying the cool–but warming–morning air. More and more our luggage is containing winter clothing that we’re not wearing any more. But this easy morning takes a turn, literally and figuratively, at the junction to US-341 that will take us into Brunswick. As we make our way into this leg the conditions around us change, and I slip into a debilitating mental fatigue.
Our path now inclines while a headwind thwarts my best pedaling efforts, and I can’t find a tolerable position on my saddle as my seat burns a fantastic ache…my knee…! For miles, and miles, and miles(!) we are on US-341, seeing nothing but a corridor of asphalt and pine trees. Once or twice we stop for a short break on and on one I exclaim “I need a change of scenery!” At one point I stop by a mailbox just into the first town we’ve seen in a long time and donate the Boy Scout popcorn to a family whose last name begins with C. And this helps because I think I have reduced my load by about 10 pounds, but I am still feeling like I just can’t move as fast as before. I can recognize that my predicament is primarily mental–but that because I am suffering mentally, my physical fatigues and environmental obstacles become mountainous.
But I have conquered mountains already on this trip! On our last stop before Brunswick we eat some carrots, and I drink apple juice while talking out how this mental fallout is making me feel. And somehow this flips a switch. Getting back on my bicycle, my seat still hurts, but I consciously decide “Its not going to get any better than this” so I just pick a position and sit on it. And making the decision to mentally ignore this allows me to put my energy back where it belongs. For the remainder of the ride into Brunswick, I am back on Stephanie’s heels and feeling renewed!
The Hostel in the Forest greets us with open arms. For as frustrating as today was for me, this mecca of peace and tranquility, bountiful with fresh air and a community with nature, lulls me into a relaxation both mental and physical. We check in and are oriented to the hostel, which is run communally. We are shown the composting toilets and the showers that feed a greywater system. There is a labyrinth, a meditation room, a lake with canoes and the healthiest chickens and ducks you’ve ever seen. The lake and its canoes beacon to me and so Stephanie and I take separate paths until dinner. I have enough time to casually spin around the lake a few times in a canoe–it feels good to use my upper body for a while.
I see Stephanie again around the fire just before dinner. All of the other guests and myself join hands in a circle around this flickering attraction and, introducing ourselves, say our thanks. I am thankful for tubes which stay inflated, wide shoulders, tailwinds, and good company on the road.
Following this offering we are treated to an amazing vegan dinner where we talk with Paul and Amy who are here from North Carolina. Both of them work in early childhood education, and we enjoy sharing our respective travel stories. After dinner we help clean up the kitchen and take some time to chat with other guests and read before Paul treats me to a piece of peanut butter-spackled toast as I make tea. I realize I’ve been craving a fresh piece of bread–his offer is more than welcome!
Eventually I am stumbling through the dark to my bunk and a night of peaceful rest peppered with cricket-song.
About 76 miles today…
I realized today that doing anything I want, and being everything I want doesn’t have as much to do with moving this odd collection of mostly-carbon around this particular ball of mostly-rocks as it might seem to, but its still an important part of the journey.
Dinner was burritos made on the sidewalk outside Harvey’s (a grocery chain) by sinking cold refried beans into a tortilla with some salsa. Heated food is overrated! They were awesome :o) In Baxley, GA I see something with the word “vegan” on it–a box of morning star burger patties in the freezer at the same grocery store.
On trips like these it can be helpful to stay in touch with some “agents”. Vyki comes through with a phone number for Hostel in the Forest which I use to make a reservation for tomorrow, and Dad comes through with mileage and directions. Thank you, both!
The sun is setting and we haven’t determined where we can pitch our tent. Baxley is a small town, but large enough that people are keeping to themselves more than in the smaller gas-station-and-farms towns. Stephanie has a hunch–a fantasy–that if we pop in to the nearby Huddle House that a 50-years-old waitress will pour us coffee and ask us what we are doing and that this will lead to an offer for a place to stay. Haha, well we found some hospitality, in any case.
We’re sitting at a booth secretively mixing orange juice and The Glenlivet (12-year single-malt!) into our coffees, helmets positioned conspicuously, bikes sporting a sign asking for help, when Judy Williams, a woman who works at HH bites. And she’s really tickled by our story! So she offers to make a few calls, and before long a man named Kelly Bird strolls in the door with firm handshakes and Boy Scout popcorn under arm which he gifts to us. Handing over the popcorn, we chat about our journey and he offers that we can pitch our tent in front of the Boy Scout’s meeting building nearby. He even calls the police to let them know we would be camping, so we wouldn’t be bothered! And learning about our next destination (Brunswick) he insists that if we run into any problems that we should give him a call.
And so marveling at the generosity of these “strangers” we pitch our tent for a restful night. Perhaps we are not so strange to each other as it might seem. The tent in on an incline–my head is higher than my feet, and I sleep really well!
About 78 miles today…
Its difficult to leave behind hot showers and warm beds–Stephanie and I are both feeling demotivated, and this is further complicated by the notion that we have no idea which direction we’re going out of Macon. And so we really take a long time to pack up and get out of town, which doesn’t happen before we make three stops–Walmart for helmets (ours got left in her brother-in-law’s truck), a bike shop (chain lube!) and Mia’s Health Foods (food!!!) But we finally make it out by way of ALT-US-129 aka Ocmulgee highway and soon Macon is a dot on the horizon.
This road is acceptable but our next destination–Hostel in the Forest (near Brunswick) is three days away and the prospect of doing this for that much time with no(?) points of interest to break the trip into smaller legs seems daunting… Instead we open ourselves up to the possibility of discovering unknown points along the way and–especially for a late start–put quite some distance between us. We commit that tomorrow will be a long-haul day, and that by the 28th we will roll into the hostel.
Now that we are rolling again our states of demotivation evaporate!
For now, more camping. Tonight we are in Cochran, GA and have rolled into a public park where we prepare dinner at a picnic table. There are lots of interesting mushrooms growing here and I capture them with my camera. I notice that my right knee is “talking” to me a bit. The feeling is that it needs to pop, and I choose a path that includes my knee working comfortably for the rest of the tour.
I love when life surprises me and I find myself completely outside of any plans I may have made–as a reminder that flexibility is better than any itinerary. And while the Universe spins its perfect circle, we skip camping in favor of a night in a motel room and I watch a movie on HBO. Ha!
About 50 miles today…
This one day off the road could segment our journey into two parts, each of which could be segmented further to an infinite quantity of moments. Already I seem have split this journey into “days”, and so I will choose to examine this as timelessly as my earthly, three-dimensional perceptions will allow.
I wake up remarkably late–I suppose I needed the rest. I wander inconspicuously toward the living room where one religion’s version of the solstice celebration is being fervently pursued–its almost chaotic, but especially so for my sleepy brain.
This morning I am writing a text message with winter-y greetings to Katie, and as I’m tapping in the characters, a message in kind arrives from her. And I knew this was going to happen. I imagined this exact scenario yesterday while I was pedaling some unknown stretch between Athens and Macon.
Stephanie and I embark upon a culinary adventure(!), raiding her sister’s cabinets for anything vegan that we can include in a casserole creation. By the time we’ve added yellow squash and white wine to the marinara sauce, it tastes no less than professional. We share a laughter-filled dinner with Stephanie’s sister and her family. Stephanie’s niece keeps stealing wine from her mother, and while this draws objections, they’re not particularly enforced.
About 0 miles today…
We wake up at 0730, same as Danny–he’s going to work. He showed us some true hospitality last night, beyond giving us couches to sleep on–he brought us food and Red Stripe and we hung out in his house chatting late into the evening about our respective journeys. He was a philosophy major at UGA and he and I find some literary common ground. After he leaves, Stephanie and I write him a note in that copy of “Zen and the Art…” and leave it for him.
The metal bracket which holds my rack to the frame broke yesterday as we rolled into Athens. I mitigate this problem temporarily with a bungee cord, but as we’re zooming around Athens looking for a library we find an open bike shop instead whose employees give me brackets and nuts and bolts to get myself re-situated. I buy some tube patches from them and in just a few minutes I’m good as new :o)
Back downtown to Hot Corner coffee and an opportunity for me to inspect and patch my damaged tubes. In each of our first three days my rear tire went flat. And each time we were in inclement or cold weather, and after a quick inspection of the tire, put in a new tube and stowed the flat one for patching later. Now I’m finding that all my busted tubes have been damaged too similarly to be coincidence. Finally, Stephanie finds it! A small piece of the radial belt had snapped and poked inwards, popping my tubes with the smallest of intrusions. Its a pleasure to find a simple cause for the problem, and a few patches later I’m ready to stay inflated.
Onward to brunch! The Grit is closed!!! So we zip around looking for something accommodating and find “Clocken” (I think is the name?) for brunch. Stephanie and I both notice that our waiter is very pretty and the food is fantastic! We eat a lot of veggie chili and hummus and (deep-fried!) pita in anticipation of needing energy to exit hilly Athens.
We call Jesse–someone we met the night before. We were at Hot Corner Coffee near the 40-Watt with our bicycles parked outside. Perhaps it is the way they are outfitted, but these touring outfits seem to garner a lot of interest! Almost everyone wants to ask “Where have you been?” and “Where are you going?” and it almost seems as though they are living vicariously through our nomadic adventure. I am happy to share the minutiae of our venture for as long as they care to listen, and I am often treated with their reciprocation and advice. Jesse, also a cyclist, is no exception–he approached us last night and before long we were talking routes. He is interested in riding out of town with us, which we do–an interesting route through a town called Bishop to the Southeast of Athens.
At this point we are on US-129 South wishing instead to be on Colham-Ferry road. So we ask directions of some service station patrons. One of them with a pickup truck offers to drive us out to the road. Stephanie rides in the cab, and I take the bed with the bikes. We are delivered safely to the road we’re looking for but Stephanie is visibly shaken. Apparently, the occupants of the truck, including the driver were pretty strung out on meth(!), but from my point of view it was just a fast-paced ride through some country roads.
But no sooner than they pull away we are met by one of the few other cyclists we see on this trip. Carl is head-to-toe spandex and riding a top-notch Specialized bicycle–and he’s full of great advice and augments our basic AAA map with lines that make the rest of our day some of the best riding we’ve seen yet!
So–Macon is approximately 100 miles from Athens and we didn’t expect to make it, especially for our late start. Rather, we thought that if we put in a full day of riding we might pull ourselves close enough to make for an easy pickup by her sister…but that doesn’t quite work out. We get as far at the TA service center on US-441 just South of I-20 near Madison, GA, about 50 miles shy of Macon, admitting that we don’t need to get to Macon tonight, although it would have been fun. While taking a rest and thinking about our options (and having seen some territory that would make for good stealth-camping), we put out a sign:
And plenty of people take us up on the offer of free conversations! Eventually we’re in a conversation with Jim, one of the TA employees. He’s in his sixties and recently procured a touring cycle but hadn’t yet set out on any long-distance tours, and so was probing us for advice. We share our stories and not long into our conversation he offers, “I’m on until midnight–if you’re still here, I’ll take you to Macon”. :oD And then minutes later he comes back with news that his supervisor will let him leave work around 10 so he can take us sooner!
Stephanie’s family is tickled when on Christmas Eve these two weary travelers are delivered to them by a white-bearded man in a large red sleigh truck. Haha! I try to slip Jim some cash (we accidentally drove pretty far past our intended exit) but he caught me. And unbeknown to myself he slipped it back! I hope he did not find my attempt in any way diminishing to his very kind offer–I just felt bad that he was expending so much fuel on our account and wanted to help.
We arrive at Stephanie’s sister’s and I’m allowed to do some laundry and take a hot shower–my first since Friday morning–and it melts me.
We “wake up” soaked–perhaps we were never in any quality state of sleep to begin with. Its been raining all night. I’m “sleeping” with my shoes on and my slumber is regularly interrupted with thoughts surrounding the word “trenchfoot”. This tent, which protected me perfectly last May has proven its failure to resist water. Its 0600, our agreed waking time, and the best we can do is drag our belongings to a neighboring industrial park where a small overhang provides us with a few brief moments of relief from the deluge.
Everything is wet and the rain isn’t stopping, either. Inversely, the sun appears to be late to work today, so we prepare breakfast and pack our gear to begin walking–its too dark to ride. Eventually the light makes its muted way through the overcast sky and we slowly pedal our way into Toccoa, GA where Currahee awaits us. The glowing sign of a coin laundry beacons us through the morning fog! And after a quick stop at a service station for coffee, we head over to dry out our lives.
So…did I mention everything is soaked? And we have a pile of quarters. I’m throwing everything in–sleeping bag, shoes, extra shirts, etc. and decide to get right down to it. Collecting no objections from the only other patrons, I slim down to my first layer of thermals. And this really annoys a woman who is working there! She serves me with disapproving looks, and as soon as my pants come out of the dryer, INSISTS I put them on. Tut tut!
By the time we get on the road the rain is diminished but we’ve decided that this not the time to see Currahee–that moving South and out of this weather is paramount–for both our physical comfort and our morale, which is still suffering (although this is more understood than discussed). I have to give Stephanie a lot of credit. In this very uncomfortable situation she stepped up and persisted where I think others might have faltered.
And so moving South from Toccoa on GA-184 a mere eleven miles we catch our first glimpse of our life-giving sun since we left Florida on Thursday! And our spirits rise as quickly as the fog while our hearts open as wide as the blue skies. I can’t help but whoop and call my thanks to the heavens for reinvigorating me.
Its the 23rd of December and people all over the country are in motion–moving from their own homes to those of their relatives and friends. And Stephanie and I are no exception as we continue our trek back to Gainesville.
Yesterday’s terrain was easier than Friday’s, and today’s is easier than yesterday’s. These North Georgia rolling countrysides are a pleasure to bicycle–sure, some hills are steep, but more often than not our downhill momentum carries us a fair distance up the next slope. My mantra for the day is “cadence, that perfect cadence” and I say this to myself as I ascend each incline and descend each decline, manipulating my gears to keep my legs pumping at that optimal pace–not to get there sooner, but to keep things running smoothly. We settle into a fantastic pace as the sun pursues its transit noonward and soon these layers that have kept us warm the last few days are peeling like the skin off a banana.
Lazy cows all over this grass-blanketed countryside spend their days holding down damp clumps of green and show an unimpressed interest in us as we roll by. Dogs, on the other hand, who couldn’t seem to care less about cars, chase us down the road! At Stephanie’s suggestion, we “bark” back and this stops most of them in their tracks, but a few follow us for up to one-half mile!
In Commerce, GA, Stephanie suggests an alternate route to Athens that eliminates most of this treacherous stretch of US-441 ahead of us. GA-334 proves to be a beautiful road, and except for the chicken factory-farm (which Stephanie questions, “Should we burn it down…?” heh heh) the countryside is calming and peaceful.
We roll into Athens completely beat and head to the Transmetropolitan for vegan calzones which taste like heaven, paired with a local brew that complements dinner perfectly. Tonight we’ll stay with Danny–a friend of Enoch’s who is a friend of Andrew Williams who we met at ArtHaus Hostel in Asheville the morning we set out. I am thankful for the kindness of these “strangers” and hope I can reciprocate when they have a need. Tomorrow will start late after tube patching and co-op perusing, and hopefully brunch at The Grit. With all there is to experience, I could stay in Athens for a month! Tomorrow…Macon!
About 58 miles today…
Waking up a bit damp (we’re camping in the clouds!), Stephanie and I cook a warm breakfast of oatmeal+flax seed on my trusty camping stove. And in a few more miles of braking we’re rolling into Balsam Grove, NC, a town apparently made of farms and a gas station.
I’m meeting the friendliest people at roadside gas stations in the smallest corners of the windiest roads of the most remote regions. Making a beeline for that gas station, we are greeted by the attendant (Jeannie?) with a warm smile and two sips into our respective coffees we’re discussing the wheres and whens of our journey. A few other locals peek into our conversation, offering advice here and there, and before long our water bottles are refilled and we’re confident in our direction.
Today is more transient that yesterday whose feature was The Blue Ridge Parkway and tomorrow’s Currahee, but we have about seventy miles ahead of us nonetheless. Yesterday’s mantra of “brakes, brakes, brakes” is repeated as we make our way through temperatures similar to yesterdays, but at least we seem to be descending below the clouds! And we will see The Cherokee Foothills Scenic Parkway today as we traverse South Carolina (SC-11, a part of the Trail of Tears…) The foothill roads leading us from mountainous North Carolina undulate through fantastic curves–we don’t need our brakes quite so much. Almost every vehicle that passes us is a pickup truck with a cooler in the back, occupied by one or more bright orange capped heads. I’m happy to be working towards a balance with nature rather than fighting it, but Stephanie and I wonder how our lives might be different if we were born here…
We have turned onto US-123 in Westminster, South Carolina–our last direction of the day and not a mile in we are impeded by and unfortunate combination of fading light and inclement weather on a road with virtually no shoulder. Still wanting to get to our destination of the fictional “Jarrett, GA”, we opt to hitchbike. No sooner than Stephanie sticks out her thumb does a Sheriff’s Deputy whirl his truck around and put on his best display of flashing blue lights.
Shit, shit, shit…!
Stephanie coughs up a quick story about my tire trouble (which is not so far from the truth). Deputy Johnny asks where we’re headed (a few miles beyond the GA state line…), and a few hums and haws later–offers us a ride to the border!!!
So we’re dropped just past the GA border and start making our way in. When the sat truth of Jarrett’s non-existence settles in (WTF Google?!?) we find a place to camp off the highway–for a horrible night just a few miles shy of Toccoa, GA.
About 63 pedaled and 9 hitchbiked miles today…
