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I’ve been “on the road” for eight days now, of which four of those have been actual touring days.
In Athens, I engaged in my first experience as a couchsurfer. Having done a fair bit of hosting in Gainesville, i was interested to find how the other half lives :) And Ayla and Alise…sisters…took me in for the weekend. I’m not sure if they know just how helpful they were to me…i learned on my arrival from Decatur, GA that my panniers, while doing their job mostly as intended, were not quite as waterproof as i’d hoped. They gave me the space to >dry off< (for one thing), and amend my gear to seal the little remaining spaces that water could slip through. And they were great guides around Athens–i hope that when i have a couch again someday, they will come stay with me!
I am currently harbouring a love/hate relationship with my bicycle and my whole touring setup in general =)
In Toccoa, GA i was looking for a place to stay. The first i asked for advice was the pastor of a church (and his wife?) where i had stopped for a break on the south end of town.
Stephanie and i once stopped at a church near Jacksonville Beach and asked to camp on their expansive lawn and were shutdown. Her comment on the situation was something to the effect of having never been well received at churches, or having never been offered help from the same.
And this situation was no different. Ha, and i wasn’t even asking to stay there…instead i asked "do you have any ideas where i could stay". Both of their eyes glazed over as they mildly shook their heads "no".
In town i looked for a single open restaurant or coffee shop so i could check my email (i had found one available couch for Toccoa on couchsurfing.org and wanted to make a last-minute check to see if my request had been read). No.
About 8p, i was directed to a place called Perk Up Cafe where the employees and i chatted…and they knew the guy who i had couchrequested! But couldn't help me beyond that. No.
Having learned from the same people that the roads to Curahee (the feature that brought me to Toccoa) were washed out, i made a mental note to title this day's crazyguyonabike.com journal entry “No!ccoa”
No no no! All day, it seemed, even from the weather. I finally take refuge on the raised steps of a church several miles north of town, heading in my next general direction (Bryson City, NC)
The reason i am headed toward Bryson is because some fellow touring cyclists who live there spotted my crazyguyonabike journal and kindly offered, should i care to slightly alter my route, that i could stay with them (Bryson City is only 16 miles from the southern terminus of the Blue Ridge Parkway situated in Cherokee, NC).
But i don’t even have to wait until then for the universe to balance against the palms of rejection that flooded my direction.
The next morning i wake up and start to situate myself. Next door to the church (a residence), a man is helping his children into his truck to take them to school. I ask to use his tap, and he grants me a spin of his faucet. We talk a bit about where-i-am-going and what-i-am-doing and say our goodbyes.
I’m heating a can of lentils on those same church steps when Chris pulls back up bearing some hot food for me! Before i left Gainesville, i had conversations with friends about my dietary choices (which are most closely aligned with veganism) and how travelling might affect that choice. The perception is that quality vegan foods might be difficult to come by, or that it might not be healty/enriching enough to allow me to sustain the kind of energy expenditures that daily touring requires?
I’m certain neither of these are true, but what has occurred to me is that i perhaps should not refuse a free meal offered in good spirits. And accepting a “more vegetarian” diet versus a “more vegan” diet is almost not a question–an easy leap.
I recognize that there *is* enough food in the world, but i also recognize that our current food culture doesn’t encourage people well enough to provide for themselves, and that our educational system doesn’t include critical life-basics like tying knots or identifying local edible flora. Because of this, i can’t bear the notion of wasted food…if for no other reason than the sheer amount of energy that goes into its production.
So i had to ask myself, in the back of my mind, what i would do the first time someone freely and willingly offered me something made from the flesh of an animal. None of my friends asked this question–perhaps it seemed, as you might guess, out-of-bounds. I’m not wondering anymore.
What kind of message would i reply to the universe, if in the face of genuine generosity, i said “no thanks”.
The only stressful counter to this notion is the ideal that i am what i eat, and that in any diet there are good choices and bad choices, and i care to consume only the highest quality foods. This is my vessel, i feel compelled to care for it so long as it shall be mine to traipse around this earth–so that i may use it for its intended purpose…to ask those questions…to get those answers…
But i am only one cell in the organ called humanity. and perhaps some small leaps or compromises can create space for greater contemplations. I like that i can change my mind and my self according to what life/the universe/everything asks of me. Flexibility. Good.
I am in Bryson City now, staying with Raquel and Jack. They tour by bicycle whenever they get the chance. They are also foster parents, and are currently providing house and home to two bright teenage boys, Jacob and Brad. Both of these fellows are intelligent, respectful and interesting. I’m not entirely sure what their backgrounds are, but know they can see they have been given, as i have been given, an opportunity to experience the real meaning of human spirit through Jack and Raquel. They give so openly, and willingly! New friends, indeed. Seems they might have some west coast action next year much like myself. Sounds like an opportunity to coordinate =D
So my bicycle is working out well. I set out to create a bicycle with trailer-like capacities but without the trailer. Two wheels is easier to move around than three or four! And i was successful! And the long wheelbase makes the ride smoother. And it just looks so weird and this gathers some positive attention.
But having trailer-like capacities doesn’t mean you have to fill up all the space, and i’m finding that (while i am more nimble than with a trailer) i am not nimble/light enough. What i mean to say is that i think my ideas about touring, and the way i want to go about it are changing. That i want to be ultra-light and super-minimal, just because it occurs to me that it might be the way i want to be.
But i am happy up high on my monster mountain masher, and will happily ride it so long as it will carry me.
To Ayla & Alise, Chris, and Jack and Raquel–i offer my gratitude, for their openness, for their inclinations to share and to trust…for being positive cells in the organ called humanity, making this world the world it has the potential to be. And shoring up my faith that it is possible yet.
My red 1994 jeep cherokee settled down next to the curb in front of Kathryn’s house–a friend of Sharon’s who lives in Decatur, GA, who agreed to let me park at her house as a starting point. Got the bike off the roof and packed up without delay or incident.
A neighbor strolling by with his dog made some comments and light conversation about bike touring (seems i have run into a lot of people who have done this in their lives…) and he grants me directions to the Freedom Park Trail.
This trail is part of my choice to start in Decatur, having learned about it only last night from Kathryn. That, and Decatur lies East of Atlanta, saving me the grief of pedaling through metropolitan traffic.
The trail takes me east and slightly north, terminating at Georgia’s Stone Mountain Park where i pause for a few pictures of this seemingly out-of-place behemoth of stone. But today is about biking, not climing, so i swing a leg back over the top tube and plant my butt in the saddle for roads ahead. At this point i have only traveled about 8-9 miles!
Its another 10, moving on US-78 toward Snellville before the skies open up, and on my first day of touring, i’m already donning the raingear. I’m wet for the rest of the day. Too bad too, because some picturesque scenes that graced my retinas would no doubt have enjoyed the CCD of my camera as well. Oh well.
I was on a road called Punkin Junction. Hah.
And then hill after hill. And I’m too heavy. And too top-heavy, introducing an unnerving wobble in the steer tube as the bike shimmies back and forth a bit according to the whims of the wind. I’m going to have to lose some stuff. Funny…before i left Atlanta, i went through my things and set aside a fair number of things which i thought i could do without, thinking i had fairly minimized the load. Also funny is how many additional things you think you can get rid of when you’re walking your bike up a hill. Regardless, Florida boys have much to learn about northern Georgia hills.
My panniers are not as waterproof as i’d hoped, despite being constructed with an inner layer of tarp material. I think a bit of seam seal will rectify that. But this is minor…i love them…they’re working out well!
Getting into Athens, i let myself into my couchsurf hosts’ house (according to their insistence), soaked to the bone and feeling very worn. 60 miles was perhaps too many miles out of the gate, having not done much distance riding in a while, especially without this kind of weight.
I’ll spend a few days here, checking out the town, and hopefully letting this weather pass before heading out again. Next stop…Curahee!
mad as in happy like a lunatic. its beautiful, bikes everywhere. monumental architecture like an old european city. the air has a slight chill, and the yellow-tipped leaves of the trees around the capitol building suggest that photosynthesis is losing ground to the changing seasons. its delicious.
right foot, pavement, tap
left foot, concrete, step
sprocket, ratcheting, tick
right foot, pedal, click
left foot, crank, spin
eyes, horizon, narrow
right hand, gear selector, click
left foot, crank, pull
right foot, pedal, push
left hand, grip, tighten
right hand, gear selector, click
dérailleur, rear cog, shift
left foot, spin, faster
right leg, piston, fire
right hand, gear selector, click
left piston, fire, accelerate
crankset, spin, whirl
right hand, gear selector, click
left hand, brake, lean
crank, spin, faster
wind, ears, howl
left crank, whirl, blurr
right piston, rotate, push
right gear, click, hand
fire left, piston, spin
one machine
spinning…
whirling…
whorling…
rear hand, click, select
leg crank, blur, rotate
right leg, crank, coast
left brake, hand, pull
brake hand, rear caliper, squeeze
right hand, grip, brake
left foot, pavement, tap
right foot, concrete, step
breathe in
breathe out
out
in
destination? ha!
180 degrees
sprocket, ratcheting, tick
right foot, pedal, click
left foot, crank, spin…
I turned a corner today. I am leaving Gainesville in the last week of June, 2009.
I will be selling/freecycling my posessions, save a few “tools” which will help me experience my surroundings.
The next year of my life will involve bicycle mechanics, training in yoga instruction, and the sale of my house. Not necessarily in that order, and all as soon as possible.
In the meantime, I am here, now. Let’s have some fun.
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…
