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.