I connected the dots

  Listening to the rain all night made me anxious about riding  the last thirty-eight miles. After rising early,  I suited up, shoe covers on, helmet cover on, cell phone bagged in a zip lock bag, including  covers for my bar bag and rear top bag. Last night I had a delicious dinner at a classic Georgia mom and pop restaurant, Steffans, so I settled on the same place for breakfast.  Eggs Benedict southern style jump started my engine for a 7:57 departure from Kingsland.  Walking out of the restaurant the skies had miraculously cleared up,  there is a god!  Stripping off all my  rain gear, I started rolling with the wind at my back.  Thirteen miles in the first hour was fast for a touring bike fully loaded. The second hour was even better. The Florida border came and went.  Half way through the third hour I was in  Jacksonville closing in on Enterprise car rentals.  Winding through the city took time stopping at lights and negotiating difficult multiple lane left hand turns. No sooner had I arrived after 36.65 miles, the skies opened up with a vengeance. I packed the rental car, changed out of my drenched riding clothes for dry casual clothes and headed out for Sea Island, Georgia for a few days of decompression at my brother and sister-in-law’s house.  

The trip was a huge challenge and immensely satisfying.  I met many really nice people along the way and enjoyed the beauty of the eastern coast.  Hospitality along the way was outstanding.  As I said when I crossed the country from west to east in 2015, America is huge, it is beautiful and it is full of wonderful people.  

Another monster bridge, rained last ten miles

 Leaving the comfort of Darien B&B was rough particularly because rain was on the way.  8:00 to 13:00 brought me into Kingsland but not without two detractors.  David, one of the owners of the B&B led me to believe that there was a dedicated bike path over the Brunswick bridge. No such luck, it was a repeat of the Savannah bridge.  My fear factor kicked in so I dismount and walked over the bridge. It was stressful,  miserable hike.  North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia need to get the funding and making these bridges bicycle friendly.  It cross my mind to find someone to drive me and my bike over this final bridge.  Yet, I took the bridge on, refusing to let it intimidate me.  198 ft above the water is not a good feeling for somebody with a fear of heights.  Anyways, the ride before and after the bridge was decent.  The rain was very light off and on until the last ten miles to Kingsland. I saw the fog of rain up ahead hoping it was not to intense. Wrong! It intensified quickly and I scrambled to put my poncho.  I am getting better putting this gear on but the attachments to the bars, hand loops, waist belt and lower hem tightening line makes for a real hassle and provoking my disgust. Being German made it is disappointing how poorly it is designed.  I may modify it to make it user friendly. The last ten miles were wet but the rain essentially let up enough for me to shed the rain gear which makes sweat too much.  When I arrived at the modest City hall seeking lodging information, the skies opened up again.  Fortunately, a motel was within eye sight down the road.  No sooner was I in my room that the rain cranked up. I dodged the bullet.  After spreading out my drenched gear and cleaning up, I went to work cleaning out the jungle in my bar bag.  Next, I had a modest lunch eating up my road food.  With thirty-eight miles to reach Jacksonville, I won’t need the food.  

The car is reserved and zi expect to pick it up from Enterprise at 14:00 tomorrow.  From downtown I will drive to Sea Island for a few days of decompression before driving north to New London.  My total miles for the trip will be just over a thousand.  It has been a challenging but rewarding sojourn.

No bridges, easy ride

    With skies threatening,  I pulled the plug on Savannah just before 8:00.  Google had me routed to get on an interstate, doing u-turns and going down dead end roads.  Eventually by ignoring her verbal commands and just following the blue line on my iphone, I was able to head south on 17.  My destination was Darien sixty miles away. The two lane rush hour traffic fade away as the road narrowed and pine trees replaced buildings.  The shoulders ranged  from fifteen feet to zero but the further south I rode the less it matter because of the sparse traffic.  Rumble strips miles shoulders unusable.  They are a big deal to bicyclists. If the are cut out on a narrow shoulder, the bicyclist is forced onto the main road.  This is a problem across the country; safeguard the motor vehicles but screw the cyclist.

One stop after thirty-two miles and then I finished the last twenty seven miles to Darien.  Searching for a place to stay, I contacted a warmshowers host but he got back to me after I decided on a nice bed and breakfast within a few blocks of the main drag.  Very nice place with a panoramic view of the marshland.  Upon arrival they offered me a beer and washed my riding clothes.  For dinner they drove me to and from a waterfront restaurant.  Tomorrow breakfast is served.

Eight-eight miles to go with scattered thunderstorms expected tomorrow.   My destination will be either Woodbine or Kingsland.   One more huge bridge to climb but apparently this one had a pedestrian/bike lane.  Nevertheless it towers over the water 198 ft., I am thrilled.

Always a mother load bridge to conquer

   A day off yesterday was exactly that, I slept into 7:00, vegetated, ate, read, napped, ate and went to bed.  Habersham was a charming place, a little too gentrified and cute but a well designed community.  Bruce was a prince of a man to let me stay at his house for two nights; my legs needed the break.  As for todays ride, I was concerned about crossing the mile  long bridge taking me out of Beaufort.  As is generally the case, I worry about the next day’s ride.  It began at 8:04.  Twenty minutes into the ride, I was on the bridge; wide shoulder, mild traffic and much to my relief an easy ride.  Forty- one miles to Savannah and as usual the shoulders after the bridge varied from three feet to nothing.  Cars gave me room accept for on large dump truck who had to blast his horn at me several times after he passed me. I showed him my gratitude with the obligatory middle finger. Savannah was a few mikes ahead and with it loomed a huge suspension bridge that rose at least two hundred feet over a river.  “ Oh god, don’t do this to me.  When will these cursed bridges go away.”  Unnerved, I dismounted from my bike and walk over mile to the other side. The wind, noise from the speeding trucks and cars, the height over the water, the low guard rail and seven foot shoulder freaked me out. Pushing the bike was more stable but still stressful.  I need to write the governor of South Carolina and make it vividly clear to him how dangerous these bridges are to bicyclists.  Perhaps, have  him take a bike ride over these bridges.  Guaranteed the funding  to make these bridges safe would mysteriously appear. Back on the bike I coasted into a visitors center and found myself an Econolodge three miles down the road.  Not the best place in town but it was inexpensive and did the job.

Once settled I called my sister, Joanie, and we arranged to have dinner.  6:30 arrived and John, Joanie and I drove to the Sam Snead restaurant near the airport and had a nice time catching up on everything.  It was good to see them both.

Tomorrow, I am setting sights on Darien, Georgia, sixty-two miles south.  One hundred and fifty miles to go.  

Where there is a shoulder there is a god

 For some reason I wake up too early but realize that too early a start can put me in the middle of rush hour. Forcing myself to sleep in, I made it to seven. Once on the road I stop at a circle K just down the road where I grabbed some breakfast before setting off in earnest at 8:35.  The motel in Jacksonboro saved me and the town had a good seafood restaurant but other than those two pluses I never need to visit this town again, not much to the place. As the motel owner informed me there was a good four foot shoulder on 17 after the convenience store which lasted all the way to my turn off onto Route 21. Despite the debris on the should that could puncture my tires, the pressure was off. The  combination of it being Saturday where the traffic was light,  the wind at my back and a decent shoukder, I had a pretty good ride to Beaufort.  For the last few miles I found a wide concrete pathway taking into the city. Hailing a fellow bicyclist, he informed that downtown was a tourist ripoff. With no warmshowers people getting back to me, I called Bruce Elliot, a friend and woodworker in Waterford, Connecticut, to see if I could stay at his house in Beaufort.  He said no problem and contacted his neighbor that I would be arriving and staying for two nights. His house is located about six miles out of town in an idyllic village. The same architect who designed the set for movie “The Truman Story” designed this village. The charm of this place was somewhat surreal, somewhat of a utopia.  Why Bruce and Sheila don’t spend more time down here is a mystery to me.  With no food in the house I biked a short distance to the village and had an exquisite early evening dinner.  The fun neighbors, Don and Carmin,  who gave me the house key where there also. Once back at the house, I relaxed and picked up a book to read.  Fortunately the television was disconnected.  Tomorrow, I am simply hanging out and resting up.  

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. 

Rain, wilderness , very light traffic for most of the ride

 New strategy, sleep in to 7:00 and shove off after rush hour.  Knowing I was headed for an national forest area virtually devoid of human life, I stopped by Food Lion very close to my campground and stocked up on food.  After breakfast purchased at the same store I start south on route 17 but turned off just down the road onto an alternate road.  The trade here was a longer route in exchange for a safer ride.  521 to 41 was virtually traffic free off and on all day.  Not long after my departure from 17 the skies rained upon me  for about an hour. The rain gear is a hassle but basically does the job, sweat inside, rain outside, at least my body stays warm.  At three hours and thirty-five miles behind me I stopped at the only convenience store on my route. For the next thirty miles the road was flat and straight through a national forest preserve.  Tall pines on both sides but still no shoulder.  After fifty miles the body and mind started  thinking about where to stay for the night.  No warmshowers came through, a camp ground was a possibility given the forest and hotels would only be miles ahead as I closed in on Charleston. With several miles remaining  on route 41 the rush hour traffic picked up and the skies opened up.  I could see the see the dark clouds ahead hoping I would be spared...no such luck.  Pulling onto a development driveway I struggle with the poncho getting it adjusted property, slipped a baggy over my cell phone and covered my bar bag with a yellow pannier cover.  The rain, rush hour and shoulder less road made for a tense ride.  Fortunately, my rear flasher and horizontal flag kept the cars and trucks at bay.  It was not a good situation.  Making matters worse, 41 ended and 17 began,  three lanes of fast moving vehicles with rain and mist making visibility dangerously bad.  Being an upscale area with many luxury developments, a nice sidewalk had been built.   I got onto it immediately. Miles passed but no hotels, everything but what I needed.  Pushing seventy miles on the odometer and no hotel in site, I started looking for someone to ask for where a hotel might be hiding. Pulling off into tree covered driveway , I hailed two drives, the second on new of a hotel right around the corner and led me there, a Courtyard Mariott.  God bless the woman.  A very nice place had me thinking dollar signs; I didn’t care.  After parking the bike and removing all my gear, I went to the front desk.  The checkin clerk was very pleasant person who listened to me explain my ride.  Taking mercy on my she gave me the employee rate and found a vacant conference room to safely store my bike.  Once in my room, very nice layout, the process of laying out my wet gear began.  What a relief to be out of the elements after seventy miles.  A hot shower followed by a take out dinner in a totally vacant dining room. Before hitting the sack, I worked my route out for tomorrow, Waltersville, sixty-one miles away. Staying in Charleston for rest day is the other option. Rain is forecast so a short ride to town sounds appealing.

Steel nerves needed for route 17

 Wide eyed at 5:30, my mind was on the ride today on route 17.  Zander laid out breakfast before he left for work at 6:00.  With everything packed  at 7:35, I weaved my way out of his neighbor and south I headed.  There were various roads that helped me avoid 17 but inevitably I had to face it.  Rush hours is not a good time to ride this road but that is where I found myself. Where the minuscule shoulder ridable I was able to reduce the stress but the barrage of cars kept up for a good two hours. Service roads and various back roads also helped but not enough. Just as I was to begin the final ten miles to Georgetown, a fellow rider on foot suddenly appeared out of nowhere.  It was Bruce Nisley who stayed with his wife Sonja at my house two weeks ago. Sonja spotted me, recognizing my Ortlieb panniers and the fact that I was riding solo. A mini reunion ensued over coffee and scones at a swish development with a restaurant just behind us.  They were back tracking from Georgetown to Myrtle Beach to catch a plane to the Bahamas to help with the recent explosion of Covid cases.  They are both nurses and work through a religious mission.  I lined them up with Zander Law who I stayed with last night.  Aside from them staying with Zander and Kai tomorrow night, they will be storing their bikes there for several weeks.  

After we headed off in opposite directions my ride was considerably more tolerable than earlier. Rush hour had ended.  I never thought I would be ecstatic over road work with one of the lanes closed but for three miles I had the cruise lane all to myself.  Finally after low gearing my bike over one long Inter Coastal Waterway bridge I arrived in Georgetown. Nice old houses were plentiful as I rode down a side street paralleling 17. After buying lunch at a Food Lion, I found my campground about a mile off a side road. I set my tent up with a great view of a river/inlet.  Cleaned up, talked with Betsy, had Domino’s pizza for dinner and climbed into  my tent for the duration.  Tomorrow I need to bike fifty-nine miles to reach Charleston.  The road will go through a coastal  preserved with no towns tor miles. The traffic is considerably less through this area.

Passed into South Carolina

 Avoiding any possible Hazardous debris on the campground road I walked my bike out to the road.  With the wheels rolling by 8:00, I left Holden Beach and headed for Myrtle Beach.  It seemed like forever riding in North Carolina so passing into South Caroline was nice.  For the next fifty-one miles the roads varied between back and main roads.  Once again the shoulders were near to non existent.  Thank God for my rear flashing light and my flag.  It kept the cars at bay.  Only one Bridge over the Inter coastal waterway was a bit tense.  The trick is to ride enough into the lane to force the cars and trucks into another lane.  If I hug the side of the road to closely, the traffic passes me with less room.  Also, overt hand signs let’s the drivers know my intentions far in advance. 

After two stops for food and drink, I made it to my warm showers destination on the western side of Myrtle beach out a few miles from the shore.  Kai and Zander, my warmshowers hosts newly married a week ago, were very welcoming.  This includes their two Siamese cats.  One was just rescued and was hiding under my bed until we made friends. I was tge first one to break the ice. Their  house is a tasteful row house in a large suburban development, next to a pond and access to a swimming pool.  Sander cooked me  up an Aldi’s pizza and with a cold IPA it was a good way to chill down..  A road trip to the grocery store I picked him up a six pack of IPAs and two bananas to ward off the leg cramps. Turns out he is a woodworker, the second in three days so bonded well. He being  thirty-four and me Seventy-one, we have that common bond of fine woodworking.  I encouraged him to contact me with any woodworking questions he might have. I want to pass on what I know so the art doesn’t die. 

With all my trips most everyone is younger than me by a significant amount but it never gets in the way of good camaraderie.  Zander has bicycled both the north coast of Australia and New Zealand.  North Australia is very tropical and you stay clear of the beaches because of the lurking  crocodiles submerged in the water. Some bikers are braver than I am.

Tomorrow my destination is forty-five miles south to a campsite in Georgetown. First I will have to bicycle south east to the Myrtle beach madness. Further south into the country the traffic thins out considerably. 

A broken cable and a flat tire but I made fifty miles

 After a filling breakfast and farewells  to Angela and Stephane, my wheels started rolling south at 8:12.  Four miles into my ride my derailleur cable separated from the coupler.  A call to Angela brought her former husband to the rescue.  Craig was dropping off their daughter Clementine when I called.  He works on the weekends at a bike shop so he knew his stuff.  Mystic Cycle Center over hauled my bike before this trip and have caused me two out of three avoidable breakdowns.  I will be dealing with them when I return.

Forty-five minutes behind, my ride began again in earnest.  Nice roads for a while, including s ferry from Fort Fisher across to Southport but then I turned onto route  211 which was less than safe with a narrow shoulder with fast moving traffic.  After over two hours of this tense ride, I broke for lunch at a Subway and a few miles further down the road turned onto Old Stone Chimney Road, a windy pleasant road. Along the way I saw my second Confederate flag flying mixed in with Trump banners... sickening.  Unwisely taking directions from the girl behind the Subway counter, I missed the turn to Shallotte and ended up on route 130 a few miles from the water, eight miles out of my way.  A mile into the correct route I came across a nice campground which was my intent to begin with.  Ss it turned out there were no other campgrounds in the area. Fifty-one miles ridden, I was tired and hot.  No sooner than I checked in and was following the owner in her golf cart to my site than I realized I had another damn flat tire, my third.  After the hassle of changing the tube, setting up my tent snd cleaning up, I went to the office where the owners and I ordered take out.  So two breakdowns but I made it over fifty miles to a campground.  Tomorrow I have a warmshowers in Myrtle beach fifty-four miles away. Pray that the bike performs well.

First day off, shelter from the storm

 Angela and Stephane opened their house to me making me feel very much at home.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner were excellent; Stephane, being a frenchman, is an excellent cook having trained as a pastry chef.  Watching him preparing dinner was fascinating, talking with his french accent, cutting, cooking and prepping was one fluid motion. 

 It was such a relief not to have to ridden in the driving rain with the wind in my face. They saved me. One step further, Angela gave me the keys to her Mini station wagon.  I drove with extreme care down to the Wilmington historic district and later the North Carolina battleship built during the war.  Once back at “home” I took a nap in the afternoon followed  by a tour of Stephane’s home shop where he is restoring a sixties vintage silver shadow Rolls Royce. There is not much this man doesn’t know how to do.  It will be my task to bring him into the work of hand joinery and classic furniture making. 

For dinner, Stephanie made a culinary delight of pot roast followed by a type of lemon custard pie with blueberries. Of course, there was an abundance of beer, wine and great conversation.  They have an invitation to visit my home in Connecticut.  Matching their hospitality will be a challenge.

No shoulder, great ending

 From the moment I arrived at Ray’s house in Sneads ferry, he feed until I nearly popped. Three large meals in less than eighteen hours. Before I left he whipped up homemade waffles for breakfast.  In turn I demonstrated to Ray my stretching exercises.  He was feeling his age and I explained the importance if loosening up in the morning along with a tall glass of water.  

On the road at 7:48, an immediately made a four mile mistake but got into the groove for four hours untill I reached Wilmington. Routes 201 and 74 had no shoulder at all which made the cycling a bit stressful. Staying far enough out in the lane forced drivers to switch lanes. Although I was constantly checking my rearview for what was coming up on me from behind.  The few jerks who me close got the finger but I made it through safely.  Once I entered Wilmington proper Google map tortured me by sending me to Mars but I suspected foul play and rebooted for the correct directions.  Fifty miles behind me, I arrived at Angela and Stephane’s house in Wilmington.  Angela greeted me and her daughter Clementine got me a glass of water and offered me a donut immediately, great kid.  A delicious IPA, cheese and pate followed, pure heaven.  We talked straight for an hour about everything and I learned that Stephane ( a frenchman) made kitchen cabinets and was making progress in becoming a furniture maker. We have a lot in common. After cleaning up and a brief nap, Angela drove me down to meet Stephane at his shop.  Stephane and I struck it off right from the get go. With dinner approaching I sprung for the wine, beer and pizza and we went back to the house and dined on the back patio.   A fun time was had by all. Angela told me how she had bicycled  four hundred mikes with her three year old daughter (Clementine, now eleven) between her saddle and the handlebars on a custom seat.   The route she took traverses the country and commemorates women pioneers, “Madonna of the Trails”.  It is marked by twelve statues of a woman with babes in arms or something like that.  I need to do more research. Another subject, Angela had played college woman’s baseball but can not get Stephane to relate to the game.  It bores him. I explained to him that baseball is a game of life with its successes and failures. Perhaps, his light bulb clicked on. 

Tomorrow with 100% rain predicted plus 14 mph winds from the SSE, they readily agreed to let me stay another day; my first break of my trip.  Tomorrow I will check out downtown Wilmington.

An act of kindness

 Wide eyed and restless, I was out of my tent at 5:00.  In the dark with my headlamp on,  the tear tire and tube was replaced with my emergency tire and tube.  Not simple but the job got done and I packed up.  Tom, Steve and I rolled out of the RV campground in Emerald Isle at 8:12.  A block later we were climbing over another long bridge connecting the outer banks to the mainland.  Over the last several days, I have ridden over at least a dozen of these bridges.  New or old, all of them are stressful to get over. The shoulders are usually around six feet to eight feet but the debris which includes metal shards and fine wire from blown tires renders half of the shoulder unusable.  This where Tom and I probable developed our flats. About several miles later I had to turn south to get Sneads Ferry where my warmshowers host was located. Tom and Steve were headed west. Fifteen miles on route 24 bought me right into Jacksonville, North Carolina. There was a bike shop. A wave anxiety left me immediately.  There I had the rear tire and tube replaced.  The emergency spare was repacked.  Before heading down a block to have lunch I had a nice talk with a guy about my age.  He was impressed with my riding adventures. After lunch, I returned to the bike shop to retrieve my bike. The guy working on it informed that the man I had been speaking to return to the shop and paid for the new tire and tubes.  What a nice act if kindness to a complete stranger.  He left and the shop guys did not know who he was.  So I will simply pass on the favor when the opportunity arises. 

One on the road again I spotted off in the distance Tom and Steve again, recognizing their rear flashing lights.  Catching up  to them as they were taking a break, they had taken the long route on back roads and I had taken the more direct route on a busy four lane road.  Tom’s navigational skills rival mine....not so good. We bid farewell for a second time as they stayed straight and I turned left. A few turns and four plus miles, forty-eight over all, I arrived at Ray’s house, my warmshowers host.  Both of us born in 1949 two weeks apart and avid long distance bicyclists, we hit it off. He made lunch and dinner, did my laundry and we talked about our biking adventures and many other subjects.  Tomorrow morning he is making me waffles and with luck I hope to be with another warmshowers host tomorrow night.

Some company along the way

      5:00 AM is an ugly hour to arise  but I was not going to miss my 7:30 ferry from Ocracoke to Cedar Island.  Thanking my warmshowers hosts, Dave and Sue Jones,  I turned on my bike lights and made it to the ferry  terminal in the minutes; as always I was an hour early.  While waiting for loading to begin,  four touring bicyclists showed up loaded with gear. We hit it off and had a fun two hour fifteen minute ride on the ferry to Cedar Island.  Once on the other side the husband- wife bikers headed off faster than us because of their light load.  They vanished after about half an hour. Tom and Steve, retired nuclear security government employees, and I stayed together for sixty-seven miles.  We tackled three large bridges, one of which had no shoulder causing us to hold up traffic as we made our way over.  After a few breaks along the way and one wrong turn into a golfing community, we made to Emerald City to an RV camping site.  Two miles before reaching our destination, my rear tire developed a slow  leak.  I was able to pump the rear tire up enough to get me there.  Tom helped me change my tube for a new one which unbelievably was punctured also.  Two attempts to patch it failed so tomorrow I will need to switch out the tire and the tube for my last resort spare tire and tube just for wuch occasions. No sooner had Tom and I finished with my tire than he realized his rear tire was flat as well.  We must have run over the same truck tire wire. The road shoulders are loaded with all sorts of tire puncturing debris.  Steve, a Korean who came to the States as a teenager, picked up Chinese food on his bike.  We dined, me with my broken fork, the two of them with two spoons they had.  We had a good time.  

     Tomorrow Tom and Steve have reservations sixty-six miles down the road and I need to find a bike shop to buy new inner tubes. We may cruise tomorrow for a while before splitting up.  They are new to touring and feel they have to have reserved accommodations  I prefer to wing it, not knowing where I will be from day to day.

Island hopping

 If it weren’t for a heavy dew leaving my tent drench in condensation, I would have left well before nine.  The whole place still floating in water left me with no other option but to lay my tent out to dry on the newly paved road leading to my site.  The sun did its thing and rolling around 9:00. Before turning onto the main road, I stopped off at the Hatteras Lighthouse for better look.  Having been moved in 1999 due to coastal erosion, I wanted to see the original site. In the process I met up with three park rangers who were fascinated with my bicycling trips.  Asking my permission first they took my picture.  I gave them my card. They want to put my picture and story in their news letter using only my first name.  The park service is always promoting good health through hiking and bicycling and thought I would catch peoples’ attention.

Breakfast came in the way of a delicious bakery on the outskirts of town. Now it was 10:00 and I needed to crank it up to make the ferry in Hatteras.  Just as I arrived at the terminal the departing ferry had loaded its last car.  They let me on and a minute later we were on our way.  The ferry made this huge arc to avoid the sand reefs which in turn made for a one hour ride.  Once on the Island of Ocracoke, fourteen miles lay between and the ferry to Cedar Island.  The last ferry out was at 1:00 or 1:30 and I was bent on getting there on time. With a slight headwind the bike made about eleven mph.  Sands dunes on the roadside kept the crashing surf at bay for the road appeared to be at sea level.  Straining to keep my bike speed up given the heat and humidity,  I arrived at the ferry drenched with sweat. I missed the boat, it departed at 1:00 leaving me on the island until tomorrow’s 7:30 ferry.  Nice try but no cigar. There were two campsites to choose from but first the body needed refueling.  On the steps of  a local funky grocery store after buying lunch inside, I chilled out and topped off the tank. Thinking that I was campground bound,  I just happened to check Warmshowers.  Alas, there was a member on the Island.  Dave Jones answered the phone and took me right in.  Turns out that Bruce and Nancy Nisley had stayed there last night.  Dave’s house is raised up to prevent flood waters from destroying the place. . So my tent rests on his cement floor at ground level seven feet below his first floor. Last year Hurricane Dorian inundated his ground level space with four feet of water, no harm was done.  

With the tent set up, clothes in the washing machine and my body and soul refreshed with a warm shower, I hoofed over to the nesrby brewery for a beer and dinner.  Once back at the house Dave and I jawboned and then than I called it a day.  Tomorrow, the day starts at 5:30 in order to make the 7:30 ferry to Cedar Island.

 

Cruising the outer banks

     Today was a day all touring bicyclists wish for, perfect weather, with the wind at your back, the traffic mild and scenery beautiful.  Somewhat sore this morning after yesterday’s ordeal, I took a bit longer to get load and moving.  Route 12, border the beach was a block behind my hotel and a dream to ride on based on anyone’s standards.  Two miles down the road I turned off to go see the Wright Memorial museum where the initial four flights took place.  No longer is there sand, it is all grassed in with sizable  granite markers marking how far each flight flew.  A nice modern museum is adjacent to the field. A replica of their first plane is in the main room with several wondering side rooms detailing every facet of their quest to make a flying machine.  December 17,1903 and the temperature was near zero they pulled off what most people believed to be impossible.  The museum, though small, is well done and worth seeing.

   Back on the road, I left Kitty Hawk for the dunes and marshlands which stretch for miles. Two lanes of traffic at a much slower speed and a wider shower.  One long bridge but a seven foot shoulder and a  high guardrail made for a low stress rude over it. The sound of the waves and the singing birds was with me much of the day.  Having the wind behind me didn’t hurt either, averaging  around twelve mph made the miles fly by.  In Rodanthe, I stopped at a small country store market for lunch.  With thirty-four miles behind me, I almost called it a day and stopped at one of three camp grounds in town. Twenty-four miles ahead was a national camp ground where the Cape Hatteras light house stands. Wanting at least fifty miles on the odometer, I pressed on. The sun was shining and the wind pushed me along at almost thirteen mph.  Arriving at Buxton much sooner than anticipated was a plus for the day.  Sixty miles went quickly and 75 degrees most of the day.  Turning  off onto Lighthouse road led me right to the Hatteras lighthouse. A mile further I arrived at the campsite run by the National Park service. No one was manning the reception building at the gate. Only through an 800 number could I secure a reservation. The phone reservation system only frustrated me but I was rescued by ranger probably a bit older than me. The place was half flooded from days of raining so he let me in for free and directed me to a dry site. Once set up, I had to walk barefooted through two inches of water to teach the bathhouse.  What followed was a cold water shower activated by an overhead pull cord.  Not much fun but  it cleaned me up. Next came the ride back to town where I had a sumptuous seafood dinner including two IPAs and a coconut cream cake. The ride back to my site Required my headlight and rear red flashing light.  It was really dark. Before crawling into my tent, I gazed at the cloudless sky snd took in the beautiful array of stars. No light pollution out here.

I ate the bear instead of him eating me

  Camping at the state part was easy and enjoyable. The seashore, sand dunes, scrub live oaks and high grass made for a beautiful setting and a nice place to mellow out.  The body clicked on at 6:45 after a long nights sleep.  Once the sun goes down when camping, there is not much to do but sleep. The tent came down and everything was ready to go including breakfast by 8:25.  Leaving  of Virginia Beach was easy enough with a few bike/pedestrian paths and a few miles side walks.  Once the road narrowed to two lanes I could get out on the road.  But today unlike other days, the roads were devoid of shoulders.  Cars had to go around me which had me constantly looking  in my rear view mirror.  Based on a state park employee’s recommendation I rode to Knots Island where there was a ferry to a Currituck.  A very pleasant ride as well as saving me at least fifty miles of riding around the inlets. The ferry was free as they all are on the coast of North Carolina.

Once in Currituck the ride changed dramatically.  Four lines of roadway with fast moving traffic and only a two foot shoulder. Thinking I would find a campsite soon I pedaled onward.  No such luck, not even hotels, just commercial businesses, restaurants, churches and thousands of large billboard advertisements.  The short of it all Is I had to tough it out for thirty-six miles.  The cars gave me room but it took some seasoned nerves to tolerate this stressful stretch.  Running on empty, I reached the 2 1/3 mile 158/Currituck bridge which connected the mainland with Kitty Hawk and the outer banks.  Rather than ride on the side of the road, I made decision to take the whole lane which pushed my comfort level into the red zone.  Crazy sounding but the cars pulled over into the passing lane giving me plenty of room with the sun at my back snd wearing bright clothes, cars could see far off and make a safe lane change. With a stiff breeze in my face, I shifted down which slowed me up. My legs needed a break but I kept cranking unmercifully.  What a relief it was to conquer this monster bridge.  It is in the same league as the seven mile bridge leading to Key West.  I stopped and found online an RV park down the road three miles.  Four lanes of traffic again and the RV park was one large semi permanent huge RVs  with no room for campers like me.  Fortuitously, there was a decent motel next door.  After 77.68 miles, the body needed a rest.  After checking in and cleaning up, I went door to Hurricane Mo’s and had a feast. My body had been tested plenty of food and water are a necessity step in staving off a sore tomorrow. 

Back at the room I began researching the bridges I will need to ride over as I ride south on the outer banks. One can only take so much of these four lanes of fast moving traffic with an insufficient shoulder.  If the bridges are danger for bicycles I may opt for inland country roads.

Finally over the bay bridge and tunnel

 This morning came earlier than I wanted but the show must go on.  Lee Ann cooked me a delicious breakfast and off I pedaled to the Chesapeake Bay bridge and tunnel forty-eight miles south. Unlike yesterday day’s maze of confusing back roads, Dave Fick’s directions got me to Seaside road which I stayed on for the duration. The entire way was pleasant country side with very light traffic.  Corn, soy beans, farms, winding roads with very subtle undulating hills and a slight tail wind made the ride a pleasant one. Let me not forget to mention the numerous Trump signs along the way. Forty-nine miles in total with only a twenty minute break for lunch.    Seven miles on the four lane route 13 brought me to the toll.  Dave rendezvoused with me at the parking lot by the tolls and loaded me and my bike on his super duty F250 ($85,000 worth of truck!).  The twenty-two mile over bridge and tunnel went quickly as Dave gave me the run down of the four way tunnels under construction.  To ease my ride through the congested Norfolk area, he drove over to the state park a few miles east where I could camp.  At first the park service person at the gate said the park was full but at the office they had a spot for me. Bizarrely, my name and address was already on their enrollment list.  It must have been because of the state and federal parks  I stayed in across the country.  Dave was kind enough to take me to the local super market and let me stock up on food for dinner, breakfast and the road.  I always carry food like sardines/smoke oysters, cheese, chocolate and fruit ( usually an orange) for those times out in the country where there are no stores for miles.  We talked for awhile and then he headed off; a great guy he is.  Setting up my tent, a study of my map for tomorrow, adjustment of my new iphone holder and a luke warm shower followed.  After dinner at the picnic table visited by a few mosquito and a friendly squirrel looking for s hand out, I sauntered down to the beach to check out the view.  The bridge was in the distance and stretched over the horizon out of sight. Tomorrow I will cross over into North Carolina and head towards Kitty Hawk.

Too many confusing back roads

 8:25 out of the camp ground, beautiful day.  Trying to navigate my way south proved to be a confuse mess of back roads that Google map couldn’t get straight.  In total I rode 43 miles, seven more than it should have taken me. With my derriere feeling the pain, I arrived at Dave and Lee Ann’s mansion (literally).  Taking the elevator to the third floor, Lee Ann got me settled in.  A cold beer followed with snacks to tide me over until dinner.  What a place, Dave has every toy imaginable, cars, boats, motorcycles, bicycles and plenty more.  Retiring as an investment banker ten years ago, he moved to Pungoteague, Virginia where he bought land on the water front, built a palatial estate and started an oyster farm.  He and his wife bicycle Europe and motorcycle around north and south America.

Having arrived 14:00, I had time to properly install my new iphone holder and tighten up my seat. Dave was busy remove a wall in the furnace room so Lee Ann and I had a good time talking.  After a hot shower and shave, I had access to the washing machine and drier to wash my clothes.  Dinner followed which included broiled oysters over the fire pit outside. A delicious dinner followed.  We got along very well, very easy people to be with.   Tomorrow I ride south to the bridge/tunnel where Dave will meet me, loaded my bike onto his Tesla and take me to the other side.  What a great guy he is.  I will miss them both.

Fifty miles to a space launch

   Out of the rack and on my way by 8:06, fifty-one miles  with the wind at my starboard aft quarter giving me a good push almost the whole way. Stopped at Ruby Tuesdays in Pocomoke, Virginia well into the eastern shore.  I needed a hot lunch in a decent restaurant after a cool morning ride.  In my search for evening accommodations, I discovered a nice camp ground eighteen miles south of me, Tall Pines Harbor Camp Ground. Arriving before around 3:30, I checked in and set up my tent next to a couple who had done some short rides around the Eastern Shore. Once cleaned up and chilled out, I made contact with a warmshowers couple, Dave and Lee Ann about thirty miles south of me. Bruce and Sonja Nisley had stayed with them and had a great time.  Things began to ramp up at this point.  Dave mentioned a NASA rocket launch from Wallop, Va east of me at 9:15 tonight. Expressing my enthusiasm for the space program, he asked me to join him for the launch within sight of the launch pad. Then he called back asked me to join him and Lee Ann for dinner over at a funky dockside restaurant in Saxis.  They picked me up in there Tesla, the butterfly doors opened automatically to my amazement.  An incredible machine with an amazing array of high tech gadgets including autonomous driving.  The acceleration was incredible. Dave drove like he was on a formula one race track explaining along the way that the whole area was only two feet above sea level and the government was not going to save it from the rising sea. Houses along the way had been raised but county being one of the poorest in Virginia, most residents would be forced to move.  

The restaurant was a shack on the edge of a dock on a huge tidal salt water marsh. Crabbing and oysters were subsistence business covering this whole lower Chesapeake area.  Dinner was delicious and I footed the bill knowing that I was staying with them tomorrow night and that Dave would be driving over the Chesapeake bridge (twenty-one miles) the day after. Before leaving the restaurant he had his Tesla perform and animated rock tune with the lights keeping the rhythm and the butterfly doors going up  and down.  It was the most amazing  performance. I put it up on Facebook.  Next we drove to the site where we were to watch the rocket launch.  Right on the tidal marsh with a full moon lighting up the place and the tide extra high just shy of flooding out the parking lot.  The launch was spectacular about two miles way but very visible. There was a ten second sound delay and the ground shook upon its arrival.  What a display of awesome power as the rocket lifted into the sky, something I won’t forget.  

He took me back to my camp site after giving me the route I should take to their house tomorrow.  What an evening I had!

Beautiful day, the wind persists

 A really nice hotel I left in Wildwoods this morning  but quite frankly the place was a ghost town.  An 8:38 departure and an eleven mile ride got me  to ferry to Lewes with a half hour to spare.  The ferry filled completely half of which were these huge RVs.  I don’t get it, why?  These vehicles must be an enormous hassle to park somewhere not to mention how much fuel these things consume. Perhaps half a million dollars is spent to acquire one of these monsters.

The ferry left on time and  I was in Lewes bicycling south in less than two hours.  My goal was Ocean City, Maryland but the persistent wind has worn me down.  After stopping off at a bike shop in Fenwick Island to purchase an iphone holder, I was really to pack it up for the day.  But in my rear view mirror a bicycle kept gaining on me.  He pulled even with with me on a one hundred dollar Walmart bike.  One tire was yellow, the other lyme green.  We struck up a conversation as we rode block after block all eight-three of them.  Ocean City is one long strip of high rises and restaurants.  Ugly is a good word for this place.  Being worn down, Phil’s presences inspired me to keep pedaling through this concrete jungle.   He brought to the route 50 bridge where we departed.  I thanked him for the company.  

Why anyone would ever want to live in Ocean City is beyond me. Phil happen to have purchased a condominium there but lives in Fells point, Baltimore.  With the pandemic he and his wife do not get along being together all the time so he moved to his condo.  This covid 19 virus has turned our lifestyles upside down.

 A few miles down the road after crossing  the bridge, I found a Micro hotel where I checked in for  the night.  There were no warmershowers and one campsite said because of the virus, no tent campers are allowed. The bathroom is  the issue. RVs are self contained bu  tent campers need a bathroom which opens up the chance for spreading the germs.

Settled in, I walked to a Wawa super convenient store and rounded up some dinner and breakfast for tomorrow.  So for, over two hundred miles are behind me.  Perhaps I will slow down for the next two days.