Soreness

I woke up, dressed and sat under my hammock. I ate peanut butter because it was all the food I had left. I slept somewhat poorly, my sleeping bag is too warm for the climate, and merely unzipping it leaves me too cold. It's difficult to pack for 25 degree Celsius temperature swings; I'd probably have to bring the same sleeping bad if I was to do it again.



It was nice to get on the bicycle in the morning. I stopped for a second more meaningful breakfast. There was a mist that hung over highway and the nearby marshland.
I planned on getting to the Hostel in the Forest today, and that was put in jeopardy by a sore ankle that developed at about 20 km followed by a drop in energy levels. I went from riding more than 20 km between shaking out my muscles to dragging out 2 or 3 km, before needing a stop. The sun was out and my sunscreen is watery.

There was so much road kill. The road was paved with the bodies of small animals. Sometimes they're just unavoidable, and you've got to drive over them. At one point I had to ride through a puddle of fresh blood, leaving a single stripe from my tire on the tarmac in one direction, perpendicular there was a large brush stroke, where the animal crawled off into the bushes. Yesterday I saw maybe 30 birds with four foot wing spans eating the body of a deer; they took off as I rode by and darken out the sun. They didn't look like vultures to me, more like huge ravens. I saw a dead German Shepard; it still had its eyes. I've seen maybe 5 or 6 pet cats, and maybe 3 or 4 other dogs. Maybe a possum every kilometer or so; and these smears of leather and bones that need a forensic team to piece back together.

The death on the highway continued up the food chain to the human animal. There were constant reminders of past crashes, with highway memorials and flower wreaths This was bad heading into Brusnwick Georgia, where the traffic was bad, I was tired and my ankle was hurting a lot;
i didn't need road-morbidity hanging over me.

I took a break at a playground, planning on making it a full hour - to get out of the heat and rest my ankle. I sat under this large tree covered in Spanish moss. This drug user walked by and decided to loiter on the other side of the tree where I couldn't see him, making me feel most unwelcome. I moved on.



I was close to the hostel, maybe ten miles, but my ankle was hurting a fair amount and the traffic was four lanes in each direction without a shoulder - so I considered scouting out a motel. Staying in a motel is a nuclear option, and I was more than disappointed in considering it for a second time on the trip of less than a week. But, I rode a couple more kilometers and then a couple more. I got to this stayed cable bridge like the one heading into Savannah. Wow. I think it was taller. The cement barrier that separated me from the thousand foot drop was low. Lower than my center of gravity on the bike, riding by it you don't even see it. The view was incredible and speed on the way down makes you feel fantastic.



The highway to the hostel was brutal, but I was still pretty high from the bridge climb and descent, so it didn't bug me as much. Here is a photo of it. Signs indicating that its some sort of bike route, then the rumble strip on shoulder all the way to the white line. So, you've got to ride in a lane with traffic going at 65 miles/h (105 km/h). There was truck traffic too, the truck drivers are usually courteous and give you a lot of room, but they produce a wake that shakes you a little.



The hostel in the forest is cool. More on that later.