The art of stay off route 17

 Leaving the Court Yard Marriot in Mt Pleasant put me immediately on route 17.  Google map simply wouldn’t cooperate so I kept my eyes open for roads parallel to this shoulder-less nightmare.  Service and neighborhood roads spared me for awhile but Then I came within site of the two bridges in and out of Charleston.  The first one was easy with a workable shoulder.  The second one was long and huge with  two large overhead  piers holding up the suspension bridge ( no doubt a design from the famous Spanish bridge architect). Four lanes across with fast moving traffic and only a five foot shoulder was nerve wracking. The cars merged away from me but the steep climb, low jersey barrier and height of the bridge made for an unpleasant ride.  Looking in my rear view mirror, a police car pulled up within forty feet of me and stayed with me for at least a mile following me off the first exit.  No doubt he had his rear flashers on the whole time.  He met me in a nearby parking lot where I thanked him profusely.  As well,  he helped me find a safer route.  His name was officer Bayler and probably in his early thirties.  

For a good hour I rode on back roads with low traffic but inevitably I found myself on route 17.  Cars yielded with a few giving me barely four feet at over fifty mph.  Eventually, I found the Old Jacksonboro Highway which went on for several miles.  Alternating between dirt and asphalt I persisted including pulling my bike under gates blocking off preserve areas.  Before long I was negotiating my bike through rocky  roads surrounded by swamps as you might envision them infested with alligators.  At one point I entered private property with signs stating there were high power rifles being used.  Definitely a wrong turn as I met the owners  on my way out.  Nice guys and I had a good talk with them on top of them providing me with ice cold bottles of water snd gator aid.  Fortuitously, they told me about a motel just around the corner on route 17.  Hot and tired  I pulled into the  Edisto motel with only forty-one miles covered.  It was 3:45 and the thought of riding another twenty miles to the next motel was not something I relished.  As for the motel, it was started in the late 1940’s.  The daughter inherited it from her parents and had been upgrading  the place for several years.  Susan set me up with a small but nice room and bath, $45 cash.  After washing my riding clothes snd cleaning up, she dropped off down the road half a mile to a great mom and pop seafood restaurant.  Back in my room, I am researching tomorrow’s ride.  According to Susan, 17  down the road a few miles widens but includes a decent shoulder on which to ride.  My sites are on Beaufort.