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.
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