Heading North in the South

Leaving St Augustine on a sunny Sunday morning the colorful bicycle jerseys of the club riders kept whizzing by me. The wind was at my back and I thought about attempting to catch up to some of their pacelines, yet commonsense told me no. The route North traced parrellil to the Atlantic Ocean and every so often it would come into few. It was a great day for simply cruising along in the sunshine. Finally a good of cyclists slowed down enough to talk and they invited me to their lunch stop. It turned out the colorful jerseys belonged to a Jacksonville cycling club.  Over good burgers, watermelon, and brownies I chatted with the locals while being treated like a cycling celebraty. One girl had gone to Colorado State in Fort Collins and it was great to compare notes on that wonderful place of my most recent habitation. Three other northbound bicycle tourists also rolled up and joined the party. I talked with them a bit, but after departing never saw any of them again. Finally I drew myself away and continued North, passing the various beaches teaming with tanned people in bathing suits (wonder how that sun will treat them later in life?). I took a five minute ferry across to Fort George Island (can't figure why they just don't build a bridge to save the wait). I turned off on a dirt road to explore a plantation and wandered around the place a bit before headed for Fernandina Beach. Folks had told me that this was a cool town and I was also contemplating heading over to Cumberland Island for a few rest days. Unfortunately I ended up stuck at the local state park that cost $25 and had tons of roaming raccoons. It sucked big time and I was bummed about wasting a large sum of money. 

The next morning I was tired and only looked around Fernandina very briefly. It seemed like an okay resort community. Then I spent the morning braving the busy four-lain traffic. Finally I turned off onto a side road and was soon in Georgia. I had to cross a bridge with metal grating and it was like ice under my tires, but I made it across without ill effects. After that Georgia was pretty much cycling bliss. I didn't notice how much the traffic  along the Coast had bummed me. This is the first state that I really enjoyed cycling because they had some incredibly quiet backroads, friendly folks, and plenty of forests to camp in. The word I would use to describe Georgia is unpretentious. I would have enjoyed the state even more if not for the fact that I was feeling oddly fatigued. It was a tough five days necessitating mental fortitude.  Passing thru the state I would see many old houses and barns slowly dissappearing into a forest tangle of trees and vines. Unfortunately I got my first flat tire (after 5,000 miles) before the S. Carolina line. I decided to rotate my front and rear tires because the rear tire was getting really bald. So after a late start I crossed the mile-long dam along the Strom Thurmond Lake. 

So South Carolina became my 7th state of visitation, which is my favorite number, kind of lucky you might say. After hanging out at the visitor center above the largest reservoir East of the Mississippi I road out along the quiet road. My rear wheel was acting strange and after a few miles I pulled off the road just before the tire exploded like the blast of a gunshot. I carried no spare and was stranded. Gosh dern!!! I utilized my thumb and was picked up in about 15 minutes by a guy who went out of his way to take me to a bike store. We got to talking and it turned out that he was also a natural resource and tourism graduate. After purchasing two new tires he dropped me off where he had picked me up only an hour or so earlier. I fixed the tire and was back on the road.  Later in the afternoon I stopped in McCormick to use the Internet and pick up some groceries. As I was heading out of town three African American men hailed me down. They were mellowing out after the work week and we got to talking. Eventually the question of money for food came up and one of them ended up simply handing me a 20 dollar bill. Nobody has every given me money for simply talking with them, yet these were some really cool men. Just goes to show ya never know what is going to happen on the road if you approach things with an open mind.

The next morning I broke camp and by late morning rolled into Iva. The sun has been getting hotter and I was planning to hang out for a few hours to avoid the heat. I went to the local a found some ice cream and returned to a park bench of lunch. Then I headed over to the library to use the Internet. The librarian even gave me a free book to read, which I was in need of. Exiting the library I got to talking with some locals sitting outside. They invited me over for lunch and one thing lead to another. I chatted with John Denny (a history buff) and his brother Charles (a world traveled missionary). They sure had stories to tell, especially the fight to save the historic Iva drugstore from needless distruction. I also met Brandon, a teenage local boy, who gave me an incredible tour of the town. It's a small town and could have taken ten minutes, but he knew enough dates and trivia to keep us occupied for over an hour. I was very impressed!! I don't know of many folks who could have done same in their hometown. He was also very interested in my mode of transportation and may someday travel by bicycle. He loves his small hometown and I wonder if all this traveling is just so I can find someplace for myself. Which is better to travel to exotic places or to remain in a place that one can call home? 

We headed back to the house and hung out on the roof watching the cars pass by. After an hour or so we got off the roof and Charles took us to the local pizza joint. I had an awesome Philly cheese steak pizza. Then we returned to the house, once Iva's, who the town was named after (if I remember right she was John Denny and Charles great aunt. The house was filled with history, to say the least. We did some more front porch sitting in rocking chairs, which is a Southern art form. I've been wondering if all those older men sitting outside the gas stations, local market, or on the front porch just passing the hours have really got something figured out that youthful years can not comprehend. Charles entertained us with incredible stories of life in the Congo, Asia, and old Soviet States. I spent the night in a very comfortable bed, the first bed in 6 weeks (since a hotel in Mexico)! The next morning Charles took me out to breakfast and I got my biscuits n' gravy fix. Then I cycled out of town on a sunny Sunday morning and by late afternoon caught my first glimpse of the Blue Ridge Mountains. 

I haven't seen mountains in over almost two months, since cycling over from Mazatlan, Mexico. I was so gleeful!! It feels more like home. Mountains just have a feel about them, that those who have spent time among them learn to recognize and appreciate. I began seeing more Subarus and pickups loaded with bicycles, kayaks, and Yakima racks. Folks dressed to the outdoor lifestyle and bearded men became more common. The altitude seems to left peoples spirits and it certainly has mine. I stealthed camped that night in the leaf strewn forest and the next morning headed for the North Carolina border. Soon after the border I stopped at the Carl Sanburg National Historic Site. Don't know much about the man or his family, but the more I found out about them the more fondness and admiration I had. Any man who can pen "I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way." and "It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness; to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask of himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'"   The tour of the house was surreal, displayed like the family would walk thru the rooms at any moment. Books were lain about, a box of tissues on the nightstand, various papers strewn about. I really enjoyed the peacefulness of the setting, which was good because the ride into Asheville was nerveracking, tons of traffic and bad cycling roads. More about Asheville later....

From the Bayous to the Big Blue

Well I done it! It's big and blue and if ya taste the water it will probably be salty. On Friday I reached St. Augustine, Florida and the Pacific, which completes my roundabout cross-country bicycle tour. This is my first West-East crossing. Although this is a great landmark my emotions are tempered by the thoughts that this is simply the end of phase 2 of my journey.

I had a grand time in New Orleans. My wonderful hosts even baked me some chocolate chip M & M cookies, plus some wondrous split pea soup. Soon they will start their journey East from San Francisco. I wish ya'll the very best! From New Orleans I road along the Gulf of Mexico thru Mississippi and Alabama. I can't recall if I've ever been in these states before, maybe just a touch of the Natchez Trace a few years back. Although the coast had it's beautiful, very beautiful spots there was also the common high rise resorts that blocked my views and access to the Gulf. Traffic was also a bit busy, but the bridges finally have shoulders! There was also obvious hurricane damage in some areas. The coast certainly has a different feel from the rest of the state, I can only assume.

Crossing into Florida I had the wonderful stroke of luck to discover free primitive camping at the Perido Keys unit of the Gulf Islands National Seashore. I ended up spending two nights along the white sandy beaches. As I was a half-mile from the parking lot I had relative solitude. I swam in the temperate water of the Gulf, read my book along the shore, and enjoyed some good food and libations. It was a wonderful experience full of glee and serenity! The rest of my journey across Florida was also not lacking in adventure. I cycled along Hwy 90 for a good potion of the way along the Southern Tier route. Although the towns were historic and beautiful and traffic was pretty light, every town seemed to have a correctional facility and some of the locals seemed to be recently released. I would have liked to have stayed along the coast, but was warned by some that traffic was too heavy. I do wonder.

As for the adventure... I spent a night in the woods with a unknown murder suspect on the loose (which explained all the cop cars and search helicopter). I also passed thru Tallahassee, which has the ugliest capital building because it was built in the 70's (the old beautiful capital is now a wonderful museum). Near Monticello I got permission to camp on private land next to a peaceful pond, which one man casually mentioned had alligators ("these ones are afraid of humans". I saw a 9 foot one the next morning from a safe distance). East of Lee Hwy 90 was flooded due to heavy rains and I had to head South sooner than planned. West of Gainsville two women stopped on the side of the road and asked if I needed anything. I ended up staying in their spare trailer. It was wonderful doing laundry, getting a shower, and watching some movies. The next day they gave me a wonderful tour of the property and we drove to a natural spring (which was flooded out) all the while talking constantly about Jesus and God. They were certainly believers and headed me out grandly. Then I met up with Diana and David in Gainsville and spent the next two days cycling to the Coast. The last day was a wee bit windy.

So that's about enough adventure for two weeks. That afternoon David and I walked along the beach of the Atlantic. The next day we toured the historic Spanish town of St. Augustine and had two excellent celebratory meals. It did feel a bit odd to pitch my tent amidst the mobile homes of the "RV park" at St. Augustine Beach.

So ends my cross-country tour. Thanks so much to all the folks who gave me place to stay, answered my questions, filled my water bottles, or simply talked to me. Ya'll made the journey all that much more special.

Since I can't go any further East (without a bit of planning and more money) I figure I'll just head North aways. So if ya ain't tired of my babbling stay tuned... and I'd love to hear from ya'll as the journey continues (like a comment or email, or something).

Living it up in Louisiana

Greetings from the fun-loving city of New Orleans!
I have survived the rains of Texas! My last few days cycling in Texas were pretty okay. I decided to take a slight detour to check out Big Thicket National Preserve and it was totally worth it. The preserve is made up of different environments; the one I visited was mid-slope something or other. The trees, bushes, and vines intertwined to make a confusing jumble of vegetation. I hike some of the trails and due to the recent rains much of the hiking was thru waist deep water. As I was wading thru the thicket the thought came to mind that I had forgotten to ask the ranger about alligators. After that every small sound became an alligator coming for a naive desert rat. I did survive and a side benefit is that the cool water really helped my sore knee. That night was spent amid the sounds of insects in another portion of the preserve.

The next day I did laundry, finally patched up my sleeping pad (it's been flat for 3 weeks), and then crossed the border into Louisiana. It's a brand new state for me and it has a lot of wetlands, besides using parishes instead of counties. I have since discovered that if it's dry land there's usually a house there. Thus my camping sites have been unique; outside the DeRidder fairgrounds, a police dispatcher's backyard, a city park, the parking lot of a library, and then peoples' houses. It's been an experience! Plus the people can't really seem to wrap their heads around the fact that I've chosen to ride my bike. Along the way I also had the good fortune to meet up with Diana and Dave, who are going coast-to-coast on the Southern Tier route. Unlike me their tour is a fundraising campaign the "Navajo United Methodist Center’s New Beginnings Program which is a transitional shelter for women and their children who are survivors of domestic violence or homelessness" (for more great info check out their blog at http://wheelingcoast2coast.blogspot.com/). It was awesome to have some folks to ride with a talk to after 3 weeks of riding alone.

They were also kind enough to take me to Port Allen, where I picked up my first resupply package of the trip. It is also the spot where I survived a truly torrential downpour. That afternoon I cycling South to Donaldsonville and had the wonderful fortune to run into the cycling club there out on a ride. Within in a short span of time I had a shower, place to stay, and some exquisite Louisiana fare. It was truly incredible!! The next day I cycled South eventually crossing the Mississippi River, finally, and cycled atop the levee to my house via a cycling network website. After meeting my three wonderful hosts we spend the night talking touring, poring over maps, and just talking over good food.

The following day I headed, like many a tourist to the French Quarter. I spent hours walking among the beautiful old buildings. Eventually I burned out on all the walking and tourist vibe and headed for Louis Armstrong Park. There I saw a wonderful demonstration of Brazilian instruments, plus the maddest tambourine fancy work I'll ever see, followed by a Congo-like band performance. It was so gone! Found some good bookstores, including William Faulkner's old haunt. Then I toured the National Park historic sites, listening to some soulful jazz and blues. After that it was onto more grand local book hideouts. To get back to the house I hopped the St Charles street car (the oldest continually operating in the U.S.). After a quick snack I walked around the Ferret Street Market, gazing at all the local crafts and good Louisiana cooking. I finally ate some crawfish, which takes a lot of work. From there I listened to an awesome band perform; the crowd really jiving with the tunes. No ban on open alcohol containers in this town! Before this busy day was done I watched "Black Orpheus" back at the house.

Today was spent along the River, visiting the local gear shop, and just lounging around eating lot of food. More fun to be had. Tomorrow I continue East and will soon be in Mississippi. If all this sound remotely exciting, my poor writing really doesn’t compare to the full experience. And so it goes...