Day 16, Buxton and Avon, NC

My adventure became much more than that. I wanted to make a statement about being 66 and still able to push myself to accomplish something extreme. As the miles passed and I became comfortable with the mechanics of riding I had an abundance of free time. Much of the scenery was, at most, tedious or boring, so thought came unbidden and disappeared like the last piney wood. One theme recurred, and I don’t mean to belabor the point, but the significance of Vietnam in my life does not lessen. Then, as mentioned in an earlier posting, I reached Wilmington. From there forward the whole ride developed a different meaning. Yes, it was still about making the round trip and seeing friends and the Skyline Drive and taking a chance on a route of my creation across NC and SC. Still, in some inexplicable way the ride became a metaphor of that Place.

Living in Gainesville puts numerous homeless men in my daily life simply because Randall is an excellent VA Medical facility and there are so damn many. I have no reason to ask why they are homeless. For those of my generation the most common denominator is Vietnam. “So what?” you might ask. Well, as I said previously, I am able to ride while nearly 60,000 men and women cannot.

When my equipment failed I was devastated. Get a new wheel and get back on the road was the obvious response. Yet, there was this coincidence (or irony) that I felt a needed to understand. How symbolic had the ride become to me? I spent a mostly sleepless night debating the meaning.

Did my wheel fail because of a structural flaw? What would I have done if I had been anywhere else on the map? Will I break a second wheel if the reason for breakage was that I was too heavily loaded? Was I physically capable of doing more miles?

I have no doubt about my ability. The ride has done that for me. 50? 80? 100? It’s just a matter of pacing and doing it. I would not have been happy with another failure, no matter the cause and I suspect it was my lack of experience and knowledge that caused the failure. About that word “failure” . . . nothing about 950 miles marks the ride as a failure. And then there is the metaphor. Maybe I need to reflect on the reality that the chances against victory were overwhelming. Maybe the metaphor applies more than I imagine. Maybe there are no coincidences, just lessons to be learned. How many of the nearly 60,000 would not have died if we had accepted that the could be no victory?

So, I decided to cash in, have my bike shipped back home, find a bus station and follow my bike. The East Coast was not yet ready to be conquered by me. I knew too little. I need to learn more about this touring stuff, so I can make the whole trip next time. I have enormous regrets. There are things I wanted to do; stop in Richmond and see Don, visit the Wall again, renew friendships in PA, ride the Skyline Drive, visit SJN, plot my own course and meet more interesting and special people. I do not regret facing the logistic, financial and other pragmatic realities.

At the same time I owe a lot of thanks and appreciation for the encouragement I have received. So, thanks to Karen and Vicki of Jewels by the Sea for helping me get to John and his wife at Island Cycles and Martha who made sure Norma Jean was OK. I owe much to Greg, Joe, Randy, Jeremy, Sonja, Judy, Diana, Kathleen, Silvestre, Janet, Jacob, Kelly, Heather, Kathy and Bernie for putting up with my obsession. Then there are Others like Rick and his smoker compatriots, Carmella and Lucky Lady Bug, and Steve, who can’t count to two, those who keep me on two wheels, most of the time; Christian, Chan, Keith, Dave, Brian, Michael and Paul, those who are mostly voices on the phone, but have always been encouraging; Than, Ken, Margaret, Alexis, Su, and Gaynor. Surely I have forgotten someone and I regret the oversight. The largest thanks is reserved for those who believed and who were misinformed, my brothers and sisters, “Some gave all. All gave some.”

Day 15, Buxton and Avon, NC

Rode to Island Cycles after putting spare tire on battered rim, a distance of about 5 miles.  I had used the Michelin city tire was on briefly before I opted for Marathons. That  brought a spare at all seemed like overkill, but clearly proved to be a good idea.

Island Cycle was busy with rentals initially despite persistent drizzle. John, the co-owner (with his wife) and local bicycle and para-surfing guru, arrived after the initial rush and was highly apologetic. No reason to be. I wasn’t going anywhere! He examined  my rear wheel which Bikes and More had built with my Shimano Deore hub and a Salsa cyclocross rim. His assessment? “I’ve never seen a rim break like that.” In a dozen or so places where the spokes joined the rim the spokes met the rim were cracks, each about an inch long. He said he’d seen similar cracks, but never more than one or two. He had no explanation. We spoke to Keith at Bikes and More. He was prepared to send a rim if one was not available at Island Cycles.

So, the facts are; the wheel is damaged beyond repair, a new rim is available, but not immediately, there is no explanation for the damage and I will be here for a few days.

This started as a germ of an idea several years ago, grew to a mind consuming event and then became reality has become even more. Processing what has become a life changing event is even more consuming than the preparation and anticipation. Just dealing with the coincidence of wheel failure so close to someone I could call upon and to a competent bike shop is enough for one day’s thought.

Day 14, Core Creek to Buxton, NC – 64.15 miles, Total miles, 951

Core Creek Lodge was not my first choice for an overnight. It was my only choice. With basic amenities, which nowadays should include The Weather Channel, it made departing easy this morning. Two problems developed. One, my red blinky light disappeared some where between Newport and Core Creek.. Two, The Weather Channel predicted scattered thunderstorms all day. Doppler radar showed a clearly defined line of rain to the East of the stalled front and the source of unsettled weather along the Carolinas. Lucky me!

Having unpacked very little, repacking was quick and I was able to be back on the road by 6:40. Loss of my blinky light was disconcerting since I anticipated being in rain ranging from steady to blinding. Steady soon arrived. Just short of blinding came later. Fortunately, traffic was relatively light and the paved shoulder was consistently wide. My hope was to reach Cedar Island for the 12:00 ferry to Ocracoke while still having time to stop for carbohydrates. When the near blinding rain arrived I began to doubt I’d make it at all. Ultimately, I missed the 10:00 Sailing by 15 minutes and was able to take the 11:00. One point for my team!

It rained too much and too often to take many pictures and the moment I tried to take pictures of the ferry debarkation point . . . deluge. It persisted up to the moment of boarding. The two and a quarter hour ferry trip leaves a lot of time to consider the next leg. Do I stop in Ocracoke? Do I continue another 2 hours (30 miles or so) to Avon?

Ocracoke Harbor

Leaving the ferry in Ocracoke I realized my rear wheel was making a lot of dragging noises. Looking down and back as I rode it was obviously slightly out of true. Being a new wheel I was disconcerted, but also knew there is a bike shop in Avon. Fourteen miles to the Hatteras Ferry then eighteen and a half miles to Avon. With some effort, I made the 2:30 Hatteras departure and suddenly  had cellular service again. Not good service, but some. In Hatteras proper, beneath a cellular antenna array I called Island Cycles. Yes they could true my wheel, but they close at 5. I had an hour an a half to make it to Avon if I was going to be a responsible patron and not expect the people there to work beyond closing. Could I make 18.5 in 90 minutes? On a good day, probably.

As I rode and time slipped away I realized I did not need the frantic pace, so I stopped and called Karen at Jewels by the Sea who I had promised to stop in to see when I made the trip. Could she call the motel where she said there would be reasonable rates despite it being in-season. Sure, she replied. I called Island Cycle and said I’d bring the bike by in the morning and would still have time to make the ride to Kitty Hawk tomorrow. Now, less encumbered by anxiety I set off at a more reasonable pace. The pace was reasonable but the bounce in each stroke said flat! Argh! And not just a puncture. A slice. Even a Marathon Plus can't handle that!

I called Karen and told her of my woes and asked for name of the motel telling her I’d visit while the wheel was being repaired. She immediately offered to arrange to pick me up and deliver me to the motel in Buxton. “I live in Buxton,” she added. A short time her able associate (and sister-in-law), Vicki, arrived in a large enough sport utility. Minutes later I was checking in and changing to my spare tire.

This isn’t what I planned, but it is part of the adventure. I’ll just have to hope for fair skies and a tail wind for the future.

Day 13, Jacksonville to Core Creek, NC – 72.37 miles, average speed 12.1 mph. Total miles, 887

Jacksonville, NC is the home to Camp Lejeune (Ooo Rah) which, in turn, is home to the US Marine Corps (One, two, three, four, we love Marine Corps). Passing through Jax, NC, was like an escape and evasion exercise. It was necessitated by the easiest route not being accessible to bikes, thus “Turn left at 1.5 miles, right at .5, left at 2.5 . . . “ After escaping Jax it was more of the usual; rural, agricultural.

Adding to the adventure was overcast brought on by impeding thunderstorms. This moderated temperatures and kept sun to a minimum. As I approached Silverdale (one convenience and a vegetable stand the first downpour downpoured. Instead of continuing I stopped just ahead of the atmospheric gush to get a drink. I covered my saddle and stepped into the store. “Excuse me. Do you have a restroom?” Might as well pee when I had the chance. “No.” OK, but I bet behind that door that says “Employees Only” there’s a restroom. Well, I didn’t need to buy more water or Gatorade anyhow. The  rain stopped downpouring and I hit the road again.

Swansboro, Cedar Point, and Cape Carteret were unimpressive visually, but I suspect the fishing is good. To my advantage was a suitable for bikes lane and I made good time against the growing dark clouds to the west and southwest. Rain held off and I reached Newport where I needed some local direction to Core Creek. “You might beat the rain,” suggested one of the gentlemen. I didn’t.

One of the guys who gave me directions mentioned “the high rise.” Forty-five minutes later I learned the meaning. In the rain. Heavy rain. Hold your breath or drown rain. No where to hide rain. And lightning right over THERE! And me on the “high rise.” Aren’t you supposed to get as low as possible when there’s lightning? Who wrote this script?

Shortly before the over-the-high-rise-god-it-is-raining-incredibly-hard-rain started I saw a sign. “Core Creek Lodge. Next Left.” There are no lefts on the bridge, so the next left must be down there at sea level. In the blinding rain. Too-fast-for-conditions cars and trucks. Me on a bike. A glance in my mirror suggested (nothing definitive about the view) that nothing was behind me as I clung to my handlebars at 25 mph on the downside of the bridge (Yes, in the rain. Isn’t that dangerous on a bike? Isn’t being near lightning at 500 feet more dangerous?). OK . . . it wasn’t THAT big a deal. I actually slowed on the shoulder, turned my head and confirmed that the road was clear. Seven-tenths mile later I was checking in for a hot shower. No WiFi. No T-Mobile coverage. But, also no tent and a dry bed.

Tomorrow is the dash for the ferry. I am less than 50 miles from the Cedar Island Ferry. I can catch the one o’clock sailing for the 2.25 hour trip. Next sailing is 4. Up early. Drink my meals and get there.

Day 12, Wilmington, NC to Jacksonville, NC – 51.35 miles, average speed 13.0 mph. Total miles, 814

The day started . . . weirdly. Entering Wilmington took me past the National Cemetery and its rows of starkly plain, white markers. Arlington on a lesser, but no less distressing level. In a week or so I will reach Washington and I intend to visit the Vietnam Memorial. As I started riding I recalled my moderately flippant statement when someone asked if I was riding for a cause, “Because I can,” I replied. This morning, as so often happens, I was reminded of Vietnam and its consequences and its pain and its never ending source of painful recollecti0ns and thoughts.

In the final pages of Hal Moore’s book, We Were Soldiers Once . . . and Young, he says he feels guilty because his troopers died and he did not. How many times do I feel the same simultaneous gratitude and guilt that I survived yet more than 58,000 men and women did not. How many might have embarked on a similar bicycle trip, or had families, or walked in the woods, or attended baseball games or argued about football or made mistakes, or apologized or cried or died of old age? In July of this year, 45 years had passed since I left Vietnam and never does a day pass that I do not think of those who died and those who did not and the reasons we were there and a myriad of other things about that time.

So, the rest of the trip is a small token directed toward those who died and those who did not. We ravaged a country and we were ravaged in return. Lost our youth. Lost respect of those around us. Hid our fears and feelings. Shared something inexplicable with other vets when we reached for a hand while saying “welcome home.” I don’t resent those who didn’t serve or had high numbers or just lucked out. I do resent those who brag about avoiding the draft by some chicanery. Maybe that’s small minded of me. My father had the idea that we owed something to our country. He’d been in the CCC then World War II. I figured it was what we were supposed to do too. Later, I also figured out that we should not have been in Southeast Asia. That’s what made it all so hard to handle.

I do go one. <shrug> When I get back to G’ville I intend to donate some portion of my left over money to one of the many Veteran related organizations. It may be $10 or $100. Depends upon how much Gatorade I drink, I guess. .

It’s hard not to feel even more drawn to the Vietnam issue since Camp Lejeune is right over there across the road.

Sorry for the lack of humor and information. It is one of those days.

Day 11, Sunset Beach to Wilmington, NC – 68.89 miles, average speed 12.4 mph. Total miles, 763

A pleasant night was followed by a pleasant beginning to the day because I was able to stop at the friendly neighborhood bagel shop and have (ta da) a coarse salt bagel! It was everything a bagel should be; chewy, warm (toasted) and slathered with cream cheese.

The ride was similarly pleasant most of the time as much of it was along or near the coast. I passed through Southport, Fort Fisher, Kure Beach and Carolina Beach before turning inland along Cape Fear River toward the port city, Wilmington. Southport and nearby Oak Island (which I did not see) have that trendy mentality which features the iea that “the initials say it all.” Both SPT and OKI stickers, labels and signs abound in the area. To its superficial credit, SPT (Southport) appears to be a delightful, prosperous village lacking many of the trappings typical of beachside communities; trinket stands and soon to be closed restaurants (which will soon reopen under new management). Not being directly on the ocean probably contributes to the community’s prosperity.

For me the draw to Southport was the ferry, part of North Carolina’s infrastructure. The 35 minute ride across Cape Fear River was a nice interlude. I was joined by a group of 8 motorcycles. I don't want to lose my ass and I definitely do not want to replace it with blue jean overhang, wither

 

After disembarking I rode through Fort Fisher which has the appearance of one of those vacation gems yet to be discovered by the general population. Kure Beach was more vacation developed, but lacked the tarnished sheen of Panama City Beach, for instance. But maybe PCB would look different at 12 miles an hour, too.

The next three days are very uncertain because of weather, distance, time and accommodations. Making Jacksonville, NC, would be good, but I’d be pushing 90 miles. Still, this would put me closer to an early arrival for the ferry to begin the Outer Banks. Additionally, weekend accommodations are less available. Weather? Scattered and isolated thunderstorms. At least the roads seem safer.

Day 10, Conway, SC to Sunset Beach, NC – 43.67 miles, average speed 11.7 mph. Total miles, 694

Leaving Conway was a chore. I got on the road in the midst of morning rush hour (7:40) and had to backtrack approximately 2 miles. This included climbing a very narrow bridge with an extremely steep grade. Yesterday made it clear that I would be Conway's least favorite visitor if I chose to assert my right to the road. I opted to walk along the narrow pedestrian walkway. Even if no one recognized my incredible sacrifice I felt better. OK . . . I felt like I had preserved my health. Surely someone would have fund reason to squeeze by to my long-lasting dismay.

Traffic grew lighter quickly. Conway isn't Atlanta after all. As the Weather Channel suggested, winds were light and variable. No headwinds to moan about. The roads were adequate, though still lacking anything resembling a useable edge of the road.

This is one of the better edges-of-the-road that I encountered in SC. I anticipated finding North Carolina's roads to be more hospitable. Below is where I entered the Tarheel State.

Note that just beyond the sign saying North Carolina there is a significantly wider road edge. Can SC save that much money by making their roads narrower?

For no reason other than thinking of doing it at the moment, I also took a picture of my odometer as I was about to enter NC. I was only a few miles from Calabash and my stop for the day outside of Sunset  Beach. Stopping at this campground (Brunswick Beaches Camping Resort) was prompted by bad reviews for the places I had considered and that were further along the route. This campground, a former KOA had no bad reviews. While reviews are often suspect, when they are all negative there's no good reason to verify for myself.

The grassy site is shaded and the whole place is low-key and pleasant. Did laundry. Showered. Got WiFi. Bagel shop down the road for when I depart in the morning. Weather is OK for this evening and tomorrow, but chances of thunderstorms increases by Saturday all along the coast.

I have fallen about 50 miles behind my best time, but remain within the lesser mileage itinerary. The problem I have to contend with now is that some of the places I thought of using are not satisfactory stopping point, either economically or hygienically.

The next stop? Wilmington? But where after that? Just part of the adventure. Wake up with the chance to make the most out of a new day. Funny how much easier it is to say that when I am not anticipating another day of South Carolina highways!

Day 9, Andrews, SC to Conway, SC – 54 miles, average speed 12.4 mph. Total miles, 651

The Weather Channel convinced me to consider shortening my day to avoid severe afternoon storms. Wind directions were very similar to those experienced last week when every breeze seemed to be a head wind. These winds, related to the location of potential storm cells, shift with cell development and were very much in evidence along with growing and billowing cumulus clouds. What the Hell. It’s only money. And better to be poor than be hit by a car in blinding rain.

Yeah, being hit continued to have a high probability as I traversed more of the Palmetto State. As an aside . . . the South Carolina flag is reputed to be the second most popular flag after Texas. Love the flag. Hate the roads.

This whole road thing is depressing. I complained about the lack of visual stimulation in Georgia, but at least there was adequate paving to permit me to be right of the white line most of the time. In SC a paved berm is practically nonexistent. The result is that anything visually pleasing or interesting is missed or has to be ignored lest your attention wanders for a moment and you are deposited in the grass along with beer bottles and mostly empty Styrofoam takeout containers.

It does not matter whether the road is primary, secondary or tertiary. It doesn’t matter whether it is a US, SC or county route. It doesn’t matter which county, though some counties do have better road surfaces. Riding a bike puts me (and you, if you were here) in harms way. Everyone who cautioned me about good old boys in pickups need not to have wasted their words. In SC everyone has the potential to take a bicyclist out. My best hope is that cellular coverage is so spotty as to make text messaging while driving impractical.

The other scary thing is log haulers. Every road in SC must lead to or from a logging operation. The drivers are mostly respectful of me, slowing if someone is approaching and they never blast me with their airhorns or pass unnecessarily close. There are just so damn many and all are on a deadline to get to the mill or too the cutting site. More loads means more money. A bicycle is a brief impediment, but an impediment nonetheless.

Today’s ride featured fewer rough roads, so the physical demand I experienced yesterday was greatly reduced. Tension and attention was just as heightened, if not more so.

I reached Conway and the Red Hill Motel by 1:30. The rate fit my budget. WiFi is adequate. No washer and dryer. Pizza delivered. Cable TV. A/C works. I’m not within about 80 miles of North Carolina. I am hoping that the Tarheel will be better suited to travel and its campgrounds more readily available.

One more thing about SC. Damn nice people.

Day 8, Moncks Corner to Andrews, SC – 39.7 miles, average speed 12 mph. Total miles, 597

Yesterday’s ride was the most difficult, even more so than the first day’s struggle to reach St. Augustine. By now, with a week’s worth of pedaling, my legs, heart and lungs are handling the ride well. Virtually every other bodily mechanism is protesting, but the physical demands of terrible roads left me battered. Long before reaching Moncks Corner I knew I could not settle for a tent stay. The Colonial Inn was adequate and under $50. Balancing physical and financial aspects is consuming much of my idle mind time while riding. I have convinced myself that eventually I will find a campground at the right time and in the right place. Perhaps I am justifying.

I left at 8 knowing that across the street was Burger King and sausage, egg and cheese croissants. Twenty minutes later I was well fueled and committed to my version of a rest day. $39 would buy me a night in the Colonial Inn in Andrews, SC!

After escaping the multi-lane, intown, rush hour traffic of Moncks Corner the ride was on truly pleasant secondary roads.

Much of the first half of the trip traversed Frances Marion National Forest. Riders are common enough that two gentlemen stopped to ask where I was headed and to relate brief stories about other riders they had met. They accounted for 25% of the traffic I encountered while covering approximately 20 miles. This section of the route was pleasant and passed quickly. Much of time I was shielded from the sun by thick forest, adding to the positive nature of the ride.

Knowing that I would be finished riding in about 4 hours was uplifting. My tota pedaling time was less than 3.5 hours. I was able to unload my bike, ride unfettered to a nearby Laundromat and wash things then later have a sit-down meal of lasagna at Antonio’s in downtown Andrews. As with all food consumed on this trip, the food was wonderful. Understand this . . . EVERYTHING tastes good.

I am now faced with the possibility of severe weather tomorrow. My primary goal is a campground near Calabash, NC, a distance of about 88 miles. I have also looked at a less than $50 motel (Red Hill) in Conway, SC. Weather is predicted to be less severe on Thursday, so Conway make be a salvation.

Perhaps I should have decided to cycle for a cause and sought donations. I could have donated 80% to the cause and used 20% for expenses. But what cause other than “because I want to do it”? The AC maps clearly identify more campgrounds as I travel further north and there is the hostel at the north end of OBX. How about southbound? Campgrounds have been relatively easy to find using Google maps, so I have less concern, at least as far as Greensboro. Traversing more South Carolina roads is a bit daunting.

Day 7, Yemassee, SC to Moncks Corner, SC – 75.1 miles, average speed 12.1 mph. Total miles, 557.2

I struggle to come up with anything positive to say about today’s ride not because there wasn’t anything positive, but because there was one overwhelming negative; terrible roads. I may be partly to blame because I chose to divert fro the Adventure Cycling route I the hope of reducing mileage significantly. Their route would have had me on secondary and tertiary roads typical of those I traveled yesterday, so I opted to follow US 17 Alternate to Moncks Corner.

I can’t adequately explain how terrible most of the 70+ miles were. Narrow roads with no shoulders. Shoulders that were incredibly rough. Miles of grooved roadway waiting to be paved. Heat. Heavy traffic. Basically the worst possible conditions short of a blinding rain storm.

And the positives? Summerville was attractive.. A carload of young people stopped at a light next to me wanted to know how fast, how far and why. Hardees biscuits for breakfast.

This whole journey is a challenge and challenges aren’t supposed to be easy, are they?