What happened to Brice?

I lost Brice today. I woke up early, about an hour before Brice, packed up camp and ate breakfast. I was finishing loading my bike when Brice got up. We planned on meeting at the public library in Beaufort. Brice had a connection with someone in town, so we could camp on their property and maybe paddle in their homemade kayaks. It was about a 55 km ride from where we camped to the library. On the way, a cyclist training for a road race caught up to me and told me Brice was not too far back, but was stopping for a break. I rode on until hunger forced me for a pit stop. I still made it to the library before noon.

I waited about as long as I could. The sunset is about 5:30 to 6:00pm. So, I left at 3:00pm, leaving enough time to ride out of the city, and find a decent place to camp. I still managed to ride about 25 km, and found a nice spot by a channel to camp. I honestly couldn't wait any longer without putting finding a camping spot in jeopardy, but after hour at the library I was pretty anxious to do some more riding.

It was more than a little lonely camping by myself. It was cool and started to rain, so I was forced into my hammock by about 7:00pm. I just had to stay there until sunrise which is at about 7:00am. It's a long time to lie there. I was dry inside the hammock but this is the second night of rain, and we're expecting a third. Most of my clothes range from soaked to wet. I guess I've got a couple that I categorize as damp.

Tomorrow I'm planning a 100 km plus day and the same for day after. Savannah looks like a fun city, but I'm going to push through it. There is this place called “hostel in the forest” Depending on how early in the day I get there I might stay a day or two, before riding to St. Augustine.

The ride was great today. There was this long bridge with a wide shoulder leading out of Brunswick and pine trees 5 stories high. Sweeping marsh land. Swamps and bogs. I wanted to take pictures but I didn't want to stop riding.

First day

Looking at the date, I am amazed by the weather. Night has fallen and it must be 15 degrees Celsius. I packed up my bike yesterday and set out at 4 pm, only to decide that was too late and turn around and go back to the hostel. Night fall is at about 5:30pm. I camped out behind the hostel for a discounted price. The hammock was fairly comfortable, but I was a little cold, I think last night the temperature got down to about zero degrees (Celsius again).
When I woke up I had a bad headache and couldn't eat much food. The stress my final departure was reaching near critical level. The inability to get that tire off my wheel hung over me, my confidence in my ability to fix my bike on the road was at a low ebb. There was a considerable amount of doubt. Would my wheels hold up, would my panniers stay on...etc. I was especially worried about the wheels, they're old.

I took the plunge. I changed my route to follow highway 17. It had two advantages: Brice was riding it, and I'd have to ride 40 miles North to get onto the adventure cycling route.



I left before Brice in the morning. I worried about the bridge out of town, but left before morning rush hour and had the bridge to myself. The air along the highway was a little dirty for the first 15 km, but it was good to get on the bike. I didn't really find my balance on the point on the fully loaded bike, so was holding on a little tight, cramping up my arms and shoulders.

There was a bunch of truck traffic on the road. One semi locked up its brakes coming to a stop at the same traffic light as I. It skidded with me riding about a foot next to it, with smoke from its tires coming up into my face. It put a lot of rubber down on the road.

I stopped for brunch, and when I hopped back on the road I ran into Brice. We planned to meet up at Ashpoo River and camp. Once there Brice knocked on a couple doors trying to find us a place to camp, and flagged down a car. It turned out to be a bust, but ten seconds down the road we found an overgrown cemetery from the 1700s. We camped there.

It was about noon. So, we went for a stroll along the river and checked out an ancient railway bridge. Life is good.

I'm not in a hurry.

Baby steps. Takin' it easy. My mottos.

I'm still in Charleston. I got caught up in a rip-roaring game of trivia pursuit that lasted into the night. The question of "how many feet long is the pitch for a game of horseshoes?", started a debate that lasted a good twenty-five minutes. The faction that wanted three-feet won. It's forty-feet.

I was pretty slow getting out of bed, and missed my planned departure time of 6 am. I repacked and boxed a couple things to send ahead. The "fifteen minute" walk to the post office took about an hour each way. And by the time I got back it was about 1:00pm. I planned the route, repack my bags, and ate some food, and it was 3:00pm. I got on the bike, but in the end thought it was a little too late to start. I'm camping out tonight behind the hostel, which is my baby step. It's good to get the hammock broken in, before I'm on the road

There are three other travelers staying at the hostel. Brice, another cyclist, who is on day 150 of a 10 year trip. He has got a personality, no denying it; he holds court like no-others. When I switched up my tube the tire, my replacement tube was oversized. It rode okay, but I was concerned about the longevity of it, and stressing my expensive tire. So, I got the right tube and was switching it up during the game of trivia pursuit. Once again the tire was tough to get off. Brice gave me the simple advice that it was cold and tighter to the rim. Waiting for it to warm and soften up and it wasn't as tough. Still the process was about 45 minutes to an hour. With my other rims and older tire, I can switch up a tube in about a minute. Anyways, he related a story about the only flat he's had on his trip, and not being able to get the tire off his wheel. I felt a little better about myself, especially give the cold. "Shaking off the fuzz" is what Brice told me to do, about two dozen times. Good advice; words just cryptic enough.

Brice spent the whole evening pining over the clerk at the local corner store. A women named Connie, who had more gold teeth than teeth made of tooth material. My imagination also gave her prom-style hair-do. With Brice's description of his conversations with her, it's hard to tell whether it was playful flirting or a game of highstakes roshambo. He had her number, but thought a date would delay his departure. He'd been sucked into Charleston, and had been here two weeks already.

Max, a temporary Luddite, was doing the United States by greyhound. He had a been in town for three weeks, and had a gig dressed as a statue-liberty (photo courtesy of Brice - used without permission). Waving at cars, and then dancing at them, once his shoulder got too fatigued from waving. It was for a local tax-filing company, who paid him under the table. In their enlighten position - taxes are a hassle.

Tomorrow is the day. I'll hit the road for sure. I'm concerned about my wheels. They're the originals, so they're about as old as me. I was thinking about switching them up, but I like the cog-set it's got a great granny gear on. The hub is a screw on, not a cassette (if I've got my lingo right.)

Charleston

The trip started okay. I got to Charleston successfully, less trouble than I thought. I passed through Washington during the inauguration; people waiting for their flights broke into applause as the swearing in was shown on the televisions. But, once I got to Charleston I had some trouble. My tires were low on air. I had some trouble pumping them up. I was using the ol' feel test, because I don't have a pressure gage. The marathon tires are a lot stiffer than what I'm used to and so they were grossly under-inflated as I started out. I dropped by a gas station and bought a pressure gage, but I didn't trust it because it maxed-out at 100psi. Anyway the vigorous pumping to get up to pressure with the short handle pump tore the valve from the tube. I was rough, but it must of been old too. I had trouble getting the tire off to replace the tube, my fingers were numb with cold and I broke one of my two tire levers
I gave-up and got a cheap motel room near by. It was getting late anyways. With warm finger, two tent pegs and my remaining tire lever, the tire came off easily. I switched up the tube.

In addition to the tire, on my way to the motel my handle-bar bag fell off. The mount to the handle bas is heavy metal, but the attachment to the bag was weak. This failure is not result of spend thrifty-ness, because I did spend some money on the bag.

The motel wasn't too bad, and there was a classic greasy-spoon next door, where the three-patty burger was cheaper than the two-patty burger. There were firemen there, and the waitress alternated between calling me, baby, honey and sir. True greasy-spoons are now extinct in Canada, as the non-smoking laws remove that haze of authenticity.

Today, I rode to the hostel I was planning on staying at the first night. And in staying with the theme of bad luck, it didn't open until 5pm.

I rode around and found a bike shop. I asked if they could keep my stuff for a bit. Letting me off to explore. I dropped by a hardware store and picked up some hardware for reattaching the handlebar bag - that was easy enough. I grabbed a pretty amazing lunch at small cafe. Left my camera with my bike, so I didn't get any photos of the city.

I'm at the hostel now. I head out tomorrow.

Obama's inauguration

I'm going to try and write something everyday (and include a photo). I think it'll be good for me.

I packed today, and am leaving tomorrow. My flight connects through Washington, DC, and I am concerned about delays due to increased security. While my connection is brief, I will be there, and now can forever mention off-handly, "Oh, yeah, you know I was in Washington for Obama's inauguration." I'm going try extra hard to have fun while waiting for my connection, so I can tack on a, "Yeah, Washington was a blast, I had a great time," and be able to say it with the conviction that only comes with telling the truth. The trick, however, will be avoiding follow-up questions.

equipment

I'm riding a 60 cm Norco Monterez...I think...I've got trouble figuring out exactly what the decal says on the side. I do have on good authority that it cost about $600 some twenty years ago. I bought it for $200 in the summer. A good price in terms of dollars and therefore in terms of peace of mind. Bertrand Russell says 'It is preoccupation with possessions, more than anything else, that prevents us from living freely and nobly.' The more expensive a thing is, the more preoccupied you are with it. In short, I interpret Russell on a sliding scale, and the cheaper things are the freer and nobler you can get with them. Although you can only get so free and noble when buying a bicycle for a tour.

I ying-yanged between Russell-esq princple and common sense when getting the rest of my gear. I bought Schwalbe Marathon plus tires. I went into First Cycle works in London, Ontario, (the only great bike shop in London) and asked for invincible tires, and this is what they gave me. The set I had on my bike were the originals, and they were sore.

I bought front and back racks. The bike was not really designed to carry racks, and they've been professionally jerry-rigged.

I have a MSR whisperlite. I bought it a couple of years ago, and got the standard one instead of the international one. I think the standard is $10 cheaper or something. I'm regretting that savings now. The international is more versatile, and is able to burn kerosene. I'd like to burn kerosene. I'm also bringing a small wok; I want to be able to cook well on the road.

I don't have a tent. I've got a Hennessey Hammock. Which weighs something like 2 lbs. I think a pair of jeans weighs more. But, those savings are lost on the fact that since I've chosen a hammock, I'm afraid of getting too cold and so am bringing a minus 12 sleeping bag. I think I'm going to bring my standard minus 5 bag aswell; it packs smaller. I'll send one back depending on how I feel.