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Day 43 Monday May 26 - Washington DC After a short ride to the northern limits of DC and saying goodbye to Shawn, I swung south, to Alexandria and had an early dinner and good yack with Roger, one of my trecking mates from last years trip to Yosemite, Sarah and the kids. Thanks for the tip on which roads to take guys...spot on! Early to bed for an early start. Day 44 Tuesday May 27 - Washington, DC to Cape Hatteras, North Carolina It goes without saying that after spending five days with great friends, the next few are kind of lonely, until you re-establish your sense of interest in what's around and what's new. Weather can be a big factor in that too! After leaving DC under cloudy skies, I headed south for the eastern coast, through some very pretty countryside and through or near Virginia's not so interesting towns - many of which have English names like Avon, Isle of Wight, Portsmouth, Norfolk, Newport - all accompanied with a very English climate of low grey permacloud, light but cold rain and generally blah conditions. That being said, when the weather was dry and roads remarkably empty of traffic I found the perfect conditions for really testing my bike for the first time since Texas - and easily sat at 80mph, except to overtake, when shifting down to 5th my crotch rocket zoomed to over 100mph within nanoseconds. WOW this was fun. Thanks Sarah and Roger for suggesting I take the 17...perfect! Stopping for lunch in a small cafe in Tappahannock, a pretty little town on the Rappahannock estuary, the owner of the cafe made me the centre of attention telling everyone there how I'd ridden all the way from San Diego...which made it hard to get away, but awfully nice as well. After a warming hot chocolate and a couple of yummy bacon sandwiches I headed south again, not really stopping, not really caring to, just aiming for hopefully warmer drier climes. Passed through Kitty Hawk and then Kill Devil Hills, an oddly named place famous for being the location where Orville and Wilbur Wright's made their maiden flight. Then I hit the northern part of the Outer Banks, North Carolina's famous strip of 70 miles of offshore coastal island, running south and about 20 miles off shore from the mainland and there I caught my first glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean, so I had officially made it from West Coast to East, 7400 or so miles later. The smell of the sea and sight of boats was a welcome sight despite the conditions. Further south I passed through Naggs Head, apparently named after the old nags (horses) pirates would use to tie lanterns to the necks of, and walk them up and down the beach to fool off-shore ship captains into believing that a harbour lay nearby, whereupon, on wrecking on the coast, pirates would plunder the ships and steal the booty. If there ever was a more perfect, cold grey and forboding day to create the image of such an event, I picked it.
23 mile south of Nags Head I had another of those interesting experiences that I hoped not to find, but now it's over, I am pleased of the outcome. Due to the immense rains here in the last week, and todays as well, about 4 miles of road lay under at least a foot of water sometimes more. With no choice but to either proceed or turn back for a +200 mile detour, I carried on riding, watching the cars in front to see where the deepest water lay and what to avoid. Riding along with water over your foot pedals is possibly not what was intended when designers made my baby, but she and I survived, albeit riding with your feet lifted out to the side is damned tiring and isn't a good idea as you catch all the water from your front tire. All was nearly fine until an oncoming car travelling way to fast pushed a wall of water in my direction, which of course I couldn't avoid - so I had a full, drenching shower of cold rain water mixed with sand - a not too pleasant experience that left me riding for another 50 miles, along this narrow peninsula, without nothing else around, cold, totally soaked and in bad need on a massage (hint CR!). Boy I sure picked an odd day to set a new distance record for myself!
Soon the rain started again, so instead of shooting for the ferry from Cape Hatteras to Ocracoke Island, I pulled into the lovely Marina Hotel at Cape Hatteras, grabbed the first room they had which turned out perfectly and stood under the shower for 20 minutes to warm up. An early dinner at 6pm in a nearby restaurant, eating crab cakes and battered soft shell crab, looking out at the wet and windswept, grey Pamlico Sound, watching gulls swoop down to catch fish and boats bob in the marina, through square paned windows with candle light reflected in the glass - all the world seemed just fine once again. Maybe it'll be sunny tomorrow?
Day 45 Wednesday May 28 - Cape Hatteras, North Carolina to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina Awoke early in Cape Hatteras with hope of blue sky and warmer weather - alas twas not so. But within a mile I was on 8:30am half hour ferry from the Cape to Ocracoke Island, at the northern tip another island of the Outer Banks. A quick 14 mile ride overtaking the slow pokes off the ferry, and I made it to the 9:30am south ferry to Cedar Island - a wonderful 2hr 15 minute ride where the skies cleared, the sun came out and the temperature rose from 55 to 70 within an hour. Aaaghhh. Leaving the ferry I saw a small turtle crawling across the road but was going too fast to stop to try and move it and with too many cars behind me and no place to pull off, I just only hope it made it across. One of those sad moments... Riding along these islands of the Carolinas is fun. Wide open spaces of marsh land, rivers and estuaries on the right and over to the left in many places, beaches and dunes and the waves of the Atlantic Ocean. Beaufort, with it's pretty harbour marina stretched along an inter coastal waterway looks like something dropped in from the south coast of England. South of Atlantic Beach, there are many islands, long narrow peninsulas of sandy dunes, split by water and connected to the mainland by bridges or causeways built over the surrounding marshland, with more houses squeezed into each square metre than you would think possible. Here the architecture is quite interesting : houses are built of wood, high off the ground on poles often 10 feet tall or more, so they sit high above sea level (perhaps a lesson after losing all in '89 due to Hurricane Hugo). These wooden clapboard homes, sometimes 3 or 4 stories tall are in a dazzling array of colours - usually pastel interspersed with the natural grey of aged untreated wood. Each island faces to the east to the Atlantic, across long white sandy beaches and west to the inner coastline, across dark almost black estuary water, and blue green marsh reeds, to lush green land interspersed with tall but spindly pine trees and impressively large houses dotted along the coast, surrounded by emerald green lawns, with long jetties extending to the water deep enough to moor the obviously expensive very smart motor cruiser.
After the last 10 days weather, I am happy to see the frequent and large neon display signs, usually belonging to some bank, informing me and fellow road users of the time (each one never is in sync either!), the low re-mortgage rates of 3.29% and the temperature - 84 degrees F. Hooray!! Without realising I was so close, I crossed the border into South Carolina, entering the North Myrtle Beach and Myrtle Beach area with its dizzying display of yet more neon signs, for 40 miles - I have found the Las Vegas of the east. Hundreds of overly large mini-golf mountains with cascading river rides around each, all quite pretty at night with illuminated palm trees and fairy lights. There are more roller coasters and water rides here than I have ever seen before, along with motels, hotels, other fun fares, eateries and other tacky shops. The place is filled with youngsters of all denominations including foreigners all doing what American youth likes doing best (when not in the mall), ie: cruising up and down the main street in their cars at less than 10mph.
North Mytrle Beach where I stayed is slightly calmer, with perfect beaches and warm water. The town is apparently hailed as the birthplace of the official state dance - the SHAG .... say no more! Comment on some of my fellow motorists: If there ever was an argument for racial profiling - I have decided that courts should allow it to occur in two places: the department of motor vehicles and car dealerships. The reason: I have proved beyond doubt during this journey, that by far the most aggressive and fastest car drivers, are not young white men (or hoons as well call them in Oz) but pin neat, pencil thin, usually blond, white women with pinched noses and perky breasts, who sit praying mantis-like behind the wheel staring straight ahead, never seemingly looking sideways or moving their head to do so, usually either clutching a cup of coffee or if not, then a cellphone, driving some ridiculously large and powerful SUV which is inversely proportioned with their tiny frame, and who drive bearing down on you at speed that would put most Indy500 drivers to shame. I have seen this all over the country and it's these women who are the worst of any, by far. Ladies : what are you trying to prove? Too much coffee perhaps? Or is there something about seeing a leather clad guy on a motorbike that provides a challenge they seem set to win? Note to Government : endorse their licenses or put speed limiters on their vehicles please! Day 46 Thursday May 29 - Myrtle Beach to Charleston,
South Carolina
Day 47 Friday May 30 - Charleston, South Carolina Anyone contemplating a trip to the USA should make Charleston the number one destination. True southern gentileness, beauty and elegance oozes from this place. This is a boring entry - as I have nothing bad or critical to say about the place or it's people. I rode and walked, took a pedalcab (thanks Tyler), caught a horse drawn carriage and a went on a sunset a harbour cruise all around Charleston's historic district. Here there are the most awesome houses I have ever seen, each still lived in, loved and cared for by the most wonderful Americans I have met. Gardens surround these homes that are green, lush, dense and picture perfect. Nearby are spectacular beaches on islands met by the Atlantic, numerous rivers and wide open bays for sailing, skiing, diving and surfing. Charlestonians' charm extends to the names they give everyday common things, which we use more vulgar terms for. A cockroach to a local is a Palmetto Bug, a Turkey Vulture is the Charleston Majestic Eagle. Charlestonian's don't shout either. They seem to talk in soft tones, almost whispers - ah such a wonderful thing which so many Americans can't grasp. Perhaps it's a hangover from olden times when gossip and scandals were exhanged in discreet conversations. One does not eat but dine, at a leisurely pace. And it's hard to leave when you can sit on a shaded terrace in an open air cafe and eat a salad of turkey breast with warm goats cheese, honey roasted almonds, caramalized pears, plump red grapes, and relax amongst people who have no attitude, who are stylish without pretense, airs or graces, yet who are very aware of manners and social graces. Something old fashioned about life here. Where guys with names like Banks and Frampton revel in telling you of the things to do in this city - things that would take weeks to do if time allowed. So refreshing to find. There is hope yet for the USA! Why everyone doesn't move here I don't know. I could live here in a heartbeat and may seriously come back to rent a place for 3 months.
http://www.charlestoncvb.com/visitors/index.shtm Day 48 Saturday May 31 - Charleston, South Carolina to Savannah, Georgia There's a lot to see enroute, and Charleston's Folly Beach looks like a place to stop and spend a week, but I am going to delay that gratification for another trip, another time and spend some decent amount of time here. Several people warned me that Savannah wasn't as nice as Charleston. I disagree. It's another city with charming southerners, who are more vociferous and bold than there Charlstonian neighbours but equally great in their attitude and love for life. And nowhere have I seen more perfect garden squares, each with massive old oak trees draped with hanging spanish moss, vibrant green grass, quiet park benches and quieter people going about their business with a smile. Hooray! There's a lazy stillness to Savannah and it's palpable. Yet talk to a local and they're a buzz with stories and anecdotes of life. Remark about the wonders of Charleston and they're quick to put down their northern cousins (in a nice way of course). To a native from Savannah, they view their life as more open and friendly, without snobbery they subscribe to those from Carolina. They say that they'll sit on the porch and sip a drink whereas their northern neighbours will do so in the back graden - out of eyesight. The first thing they'll ask you is WHAT you drink (not IF you drink), rather than what school you went to. Nearby Savannah are rivers to canoe, beaches to lie on and historic sites to visit. I am delaying all that too for another trip, when I will come back and explore these parts more and for longer.
Day 49 Sunday June 1 - Savannah, Georgia to Jacksonville Florida Savannah has a nearby island and favourite mecca for holiday home owners, called Tybee Island, which from what I could tell is a little piece of paradise on the Atlantic Coast. The only downer to my quick looksee was a stern meely mouthed woman on a bicycle patrolling the beach car park who refused to accept that I had stopped for 3 minutes to take a photo, and proceeded to write me a ticket for $15. My answer to her eventually was to ride off, muttering in my helmet. Go ahead and find me lady and maybe I will pay the fine. (Not). So, not all southerners are so charming. I knew the dream had to be shattered sometime. The southern coastal part of Georgia and northern part of Florida is pretty flat and uninspiring looking, but there are great open roads and perfect places to ride fast and comfortably doing 80 mph (129 km/h). Sadly about 40 miles north of Jacksonville's beaches and my end destination, the clouds rolled in, lighting started and the heavens opened. Previously in this journey I would have stopped to sit it out or found accomodation and called it a day. But being so close to my goal and with a dinner party at Robs to attend, I pushed on. I could and should have run a railway crossing before the train arrived, but did the right thing and sat behind flashing barriers, for a train that seemed to go on for ever, and then eventually just stopped, and sat there keeping me and my fellow motorists waiting for 33 minutes. It's different when you're snug in a car, dry and warm. But I sat there, getting every inch of my body soaking wet, skin shrivelling, and waiting to be killed by anyone of the huge lightning bolts that were crashing around - thinking, oh great, this is how I am going to die. There's also the joy of knowing that I was possibly the subject of great amusement and possibly ridicule from the car riders behind and next to me that kept me looking straight ahead or left and right to see a never ending train, while trying to exude a cheery display and carefree attitude, listening to my in-helmet walkman. Then as soon as the last cariage passed and I could sneak around the still lowered barrier, I took off, forgetting that water and steel railway tracks make for a dangerous combination for spinning, slipping motorcycle tyres, thereby providing me with one of those (fortunately few) moments of nearly brown undies, as I slammed my foot down on the ground to stop from falling over and recovered enough to carry on, my heart in my mouth and pride in my backpack. 8466 miles or 13,625 kilometres after starting, my journey ended (for now) in the driveway of the home of my best friend and fellow Aussie, Robert Hudson, soaked, cold but happy to have completed the most memorable trip of my life. The strangest thing: I am hooked on riding now and could quite happily and easily carry on for another 8000 miles. Day 50 Monday June 2 - Jacksonville |
