Day Six, Statesboro, GA to Yemassee, SC – 78.84 miles, average speed 12.1 mph. Total miles, 482

Statesboro was a nice place and the Mexican restaurant where I ate, El Sombrero, was outstanding. Mole Ranchero! $8.50! Salsa obviously prepared on-site. Nice way to end a long day.

As appealing as Statesboro was it contrasted greatly to the endless piney woods and verdant fields. I did cross the Ogeechee and Savannah Rivers. Southern rivers have an aura about them; dark, slow moving, tree draped banks, perfect places to idle away time fishing. Another contrast, too. Southern rivers versus Interstate 95.

 

Entering South Carolina brought one very significant change. Roads. Many of the rural roads in both Florida and Georgia were rough, but rough was the apparent standard as soon as I crossed the Savannah River. Paved edges, defined by white lines, when they exist are often very narrow.

There was no rain and very little to talk about. I am still on pace, still sore, still tired at the end of each day. I am also thrilled by being able to do this thing. I ebb from wondering why I am doing it then flow with the joy of doing it.

Can I make it all the way?

Day Five; Odum to Statesboro, GA - 75.53 miles, average speed 11.7 mph

It was a restless night in the Odum Recreation Area. The restlessness was increased when I awoke and discovered a screw had fallen out of the bottom mount of my rear rack. Paul at Bikes and More had recommended I carry one of every kind of screw, but the one I did not have was a 40cm one. A couple to twist ties worked to hold the rack in place and that seemed an adequate solution. I anticipated that I could try a NAPA or similar major auto parts store for a replacement.

As I was assembling my gear two guys arrived with their smokers for the "to do" I had heard about the previous evening. I soon learned that it was a family reunion and the number of pieces of chicken and ribs, along with some pig's feet being prepared for someone special suggested that this was a significant to do.

I was late leaving because of the screw issue and did not get on the way until almost 830. After not too many miles I realized I was miserable because I was dirty, smelly and worn out. Less than 20 miles into the day I decided I would aim for Reidsville as a stopping point ans take refuge in a motel again.

Like yesterday the ride was abundantly boring. Cotton fields and cattle.Small settlements. No hardware or auto parts stores. There was rain and threats of rain and an hour of light drizzle. Then . . . the "city" or Reidsville lacked anything city-like. I was told there was a "small motel" that I probably missed and a B & B that I already knew cost close to $100 per night. Pausing to eat a Larabar and drink some water I decided to set off for Statesboro, another 30 or so miles.

And then it rained! Usually I just ride, but it rained so hard. One of those storms where you have to hold your breath for fear of drowning if you inhale. I found a church with a breezeway and hid!

Thank goodness for The Lighthouse!

The ride was not as difficult as I anticipated. The final miles were more uphill than I liked. As I reached Statesboro a guy caught up with me. When I stopped at a convenience store to ask directions he asked whether I was doing the East Coast Adventure Cycling route. We chatted and I learned where to go for a motel and food. After leading me to the right road he went his way and I crashed at a HoJo.

Tomorrow? 80 ore miles? Probably

Day Four; Folkston to Odum Georgia - 87.37 miles, average speed 12.1 mph

Left Folkston (Relax Inn, formerly Days Inn) at 7:35. Had slept well and long. Felt mildly ill, but this passed after eating leftover pizza and drinking nearly frozen Pepsi. The mini-refrigerator was extremely efficient.

Had to ask directions from sheriff’s deputy directing school traffic but was soon on track. The prescribed route uses all rural roads and some are extremely rural to the point that if I fell over it might be hours or days, even, before anyone passed by to notice me. Fortunately, most of the pavement was well maintained, so making time was easy until the weather changed. Thunderstorms in the area sent headwinds and crosswinds solely to frustrate me.

Twenty miles northeast of Folkston I stopped at a store that was at least one step back in time. The intersection of County Road 252 and Old 259 had no name. Whether the name on a sign hanging from the building was the name of the business was questionable. Ponderosa did not fit and I did not ask. The lady behind the counter regaled me with questions I could answer and answers to questions I did not ask. On Thursday nights the Ponderosa also serves ribs and I bet they’re damn good.

As I ate my iced honey bun and drank my YooHoo I wondered about the clientele of this place in the middle of somewhere Georgia. 

The most interesting thing I saw in these many woodland miles was recently killed wild hog. It was large enough to make me wonder what hit it and did not end up in the ditch. It was a big, fierce looking animal. Dead on the road is about the only way I ever want to see another wild hog

Atkinson, Hortense and Patterson were not significantly more impressive the area around the Ponderosa and the weather was worse. Light, sometimes drizzling rain dampened my clothes but not my spirit. I did decide I had enough of woods by the time I reached the agricultural area between Patterson and Odum. Soon got tired of fields of cotton, too.

I covered more than 80 miles again and did so without great difficulty. Tired, yes. Worn out, no. I become saddle sore about 50 miles into the ride, in part because of bad timing for one of those irritating sore spots that appeared before I departed. I think zinc oxide will ultimately dry it and reduce that part of the saddle soreness. The Brooks B-17 works as it is supposed to. So does the bike and the tires. And the bags. The pilot remains the weakest part.

So, here I am in Odum , Georgia, without a place to stay. Three people suggested the Recreation Area. A lady inside the hall associated with the area said she saw me as she drove into town and had she known then I could have pitched my tent in her yard. Wonder if she would have fed me, too?! She offered that if I stayed around tomorrow I could join the group for whom she had rented the hall and she’d have good food then.

One of the frequent things people say about touring is that you meet interesting and helpful people. That is certainly true so far. From the Italian families to the working class hero at the local store who called a friend to try to locate another campground to the lady in the rec hall, everyone has been at least interesting.

Tomorrow? It’s less than 80 miles to Statesboro. Why not?