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....