Roth Across America

August 2: Somewhere, Southern Virginia to Mechanicsville, VA - 100 miles

Mon, 06 Aug 2012 18:43:38 -0400

I woke early as usual with my usual shivers. My attempts at laying proved useless and I cleared up my camp with groggy eyes. It’s he sun wasn’t quite up and when I turned my phone on I saw it was slightly before 6 am. The coldness didn’t bother me because my feet were attracting all the attention as they hurt with every step I took. The pain areas on the bottom were discolored and I was slightly alarmed. There was nothing I could do about them except keep pedaling and hope the problem would work itself out. It wasn’t long before I reached Suffolk, VA and stopped at the first gas station I found to refill my now empty water reserves. The man behind the counter said they didn’t have a faucet in the store but there was a spigot I could use on the side of the building. Twisting the knob I discovered the water came not from the spigot but rather gushed out from all around where it was connected to the building. I opted against the leaky faucet, not caring to know what that water was touching on the other side of the filthy gas station wall. Up the road I found a McDonald’s, stopped and ordered breakfast and was able to fill my water. I also inquired about an outlet to charge my phone and was greeted with an expressionless look from the cashier who was only able to mutter, “uhhh…”. I desperately needed to have my phone power harmed as it was going to act as my navigator soon so I tried my request again with the manager and the only outlet in the entire store was on the ceiling which provided power to a light near the bathroom door. This worked for me and I pulled a chair under the outlet, plugged my phone in and set it on the light fixture while I ate my breakfast, studied my route and worked on the blog.

After loitering around while waiting for my phone to juice up I hit the road and started my morning ride. As horrible as the previous day was today was the exact opposite. Biking through Virginia was perhaps some of the best cycling I’d encountered all trip. The quiet country roads gently wound and rolled through gorgeous forests and traffic was almost non-existent. The sun was shining and the cloudless skies provided no threat of rain. It was so scenic I was inspired to sacrifice sacred battery life to snap some pictures (the reason the blog has been missing photos as of late). Despite the pains in my feet I thoroughly enjoyed myself as I sped down curving hills on roads just big enough to allow two-way traffic. I stopped to rest in a town called Bacons Castle and was disappointed to find that it wasn’t as delicious as the name led me to believe. Instead I ate a spicy pickled sausage and was able to plug my phone in for a few minutes. After the rest I carried on and made it just in time for the ferry across the James river. On the ferry I patched my tube that went flat on behalf of the Great Dismal Swamp. The ferry spit me out in historic Jamestown and I was taken aback by the loveliness of the whole area. There was a multiuser trail that took me out of Jamestown towards Charles City and it proved to be some of the prettiest riding I’d done all trip. The trail worked itself away from the road and it was such an idyllic scene of nature I thought I was dreaming. At one point I even came across a doe and her baby fawn simply standing on the side of the road. As I neared them I expected them to flee into the forest but was amazed as they watched me rapidly approach them. As I got yet even closer and they held their ground I suddenly became afraid that the mother (who’d been eying me intently was going to explode in a wild fit and perform some sort of When Animals Attack head-butt, trample combo leaving me bloodied from a good stampeding with her cloven hooves. Instead she didn’t move at all and as I rode by the Abu fawn with its beautiful white Bambi-spots pranced along side me for a few yards before darting off into the woods. Birds were chirping and butterflies floated peacefully in the air.

Once the trail ended I continued along a scenic road which took me by several historic plantations including Sherwood Plantation, former home of ex-president John Tyler. After 80 miles on the day I reached Charles City and called my uncle to tell him I was 20 miles away. He offered to pick me up and the pains in my feet convinced me it was a good idea and I accepted. After hanging up the skies darkened and it began to downpour. I had zero regrets with agreeing to be picked up. He arrived shortly thereafter and we drove back to his house slowly as we were caught in another rainstorm. It was great to see my aunt and uncle once again as it had been years since I’d been down there to visit them. They took me out to dinner at an ale house with a stunning selection of beers, nearly 300 choices. My uncle noted that the beer list was about 6 pages long and the wine list had a half a page dedicated to it. I was impressed that they had some beers for sale at nearly 40$. I did not try any of those. I’d decided to spend an extra day since I had a place to stay and my feet could use the healing time. Washington, DC was only 100 miles away and I had decided back somewhere on the gulf coast that I would most likely take a bus back from there as I’d already ridden between NYC and DC. Ending the ride in the nations Capitol seemed fitting as this ride has been something of a rediscovery of America. I bought a bus ticket for late Saturday afternoon as my uncle agreed to drive me upstate so I could make the bus in time. It then dawned on me that my journey was spiraling to a rapid end, an endeavor I’d started two and a half months ago was at its conclusion. When we got home from dinner it was past my sunset bedtime and I quickly fell asleep, enjoying a real bed.

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August 1: Rodanthe, NC to Southern Virginia, VA - 120 Miles

Mon, 06 Aug 2012 17:01:58 -0400

It was very cold when I woke up the next morning but I had lucked out and avoided any midnight showers. Just before falling asleep the night before the groundskeeper had come out and warned me of the possibility of a storm that night. It was cold and one of the corners of my rain fly had blown itself undone during the night and was thrashing about. I broke down camp with my bed sheet robed around myself and was on the road before 6:30. I was glad to be done with Rodanthe and soon I pedaled my way onto Pea Island, another nature preserve and had a serene morning ride with nice ocean views and minimal traffic. Pea Island would be the last refuge of sanity I would have while in the outer banks. I entered the city of Nags Head and the population density increased immediately. The route took me along beach front houses avoiding the bypass road that carried the heavy through traffic in this part of the island. The vacation houses all looked the same and lined both sides of the street. There was a multi-use path on the side of the road but I stayed on the street as there was no traffic and the path was uneven and carried a fair amount of morning runners. Though the sun had risen the sky was overcast and there was little evidence of its presence other than the grayness of the sky had been turning somewhat lighter. Ahead in the distance the clouds were darker, more menacing. The morning exercise crowd was out and about as I imagined they were everyday although something felt off, like I’d ridden into some twisted world out of the mind of Stephen King, the type of story that’s viewed through a gloomy grey, where everything appears to be normal in the surface but something sinister lays directly below in waiting. My maps didn’t sync up to the landscape and my sense of distance became disoriented. What should have been 4 miles felt like 8 and the road was making unexpected turns. I wasn’t worried about getting lost as I was on a small strip of land and could only go one of two ways.

I kept on and started feeling unnecessarily fatigued. I then Noticed that the wind had been blowing with enthusiastic gusto directly into me, slowing my pace immensely. Then the rain came down, slow at first but then the intensity increased. I wanted to hit the Virginia state line by sundown so instead of waiting for the rain to pass I pushed on. Then the rain really started to come down and I could barely see. All the houses here are on stilts to avoid flooding damage during hurricanes and I was forced by the weather to pull off the road and hide out underneath one of the homes. I picked one that had no cars and waited angrily. Once the rain let up I continued on, the rain barely a drizzle but the wind still impeding my escape from the island. Puddles started forming on the road and I was forced to ride in the middle of the lane. The the fabric of my shirt was the quick dry wicking material and within 10 minutes my shirt was mostly dry and I wasn’t as cold as I’d been a few miles earlier. With my spirits somewhat lifted I continued on into the wind with increased vigor knowing I only had 15 or so more miles in the island. Slightly before reaching the down of Kill Devil Hills the rains came crashing down upon me once again, completing soaking me once again and snubbing out my renewed spirits. Again I was forced off the road as the torrential weather continued its assault on my morning. This time I was fortunate to have reached a place where I could seek real shelter. I forget the name but it was a combination convenience store with a deli plus a souvineer/beach shop full of tacky crap commemorating people’s wonderful experiences on the island into car decals, magnets, and a plethora of other goods people feel compelled to buy at the time only to question the how and why of the purchase weeks later before putting the objects into storage or the trash. I bought a coffee and ordered a pastrami sandwich from the deli. It was 9:00 a.m. The sandwich was perhaps the first indicator that I might start to be missing New York. The girl who rang me up was both impressed and curious about my trip and asked me several questions about it and a few other patrons seemed interested as well. I asked to use the bathroom after breakfast and the counter girls face gave a somewhat panicked look and said she had to ask her manager. Policy stated that no one, not even customers were allowed to use the restrooms, which made me even angrier with the state of the island. The policy speaks not only of the nature of the people in the area but also the attitude of the island in general. The manager turned out to be a very petite woman with a strange accent of a nationality I couldn’t quite place. At first she said no but with after explaining my situation and a few good words from the cashier she begrudgingly acquiesced to my request. Throughout all this it was still raining heavily. After using the bathroom it was still raining but not hard enough to keep me off the road. Normally I would have waited longer but the demeanor of the place rubbed me the wrong way and I left feeling more comfortable in the rain. By then the sides of the roads were giant puddles of water and I was riding in the middle if the road, at times still biking through inches of water. When there was traffic I had to slowly veer over into high water, my feet dipping in and out of water with every stroke. I continued forward, misery on the rise. A mile or so later I had to stop. The cars coming up the road were partially submerged, some wheels fully underwater. The road had become a motor-canal and by the time my brakes were finally able to stop me I was up to my knees in flood water. I turned around, found a side street, and worked my way up to the bypass. The bypass was similar to the other roads that had strung out my nerves in South Carolina. High speeds, no shoulders, dense traffic. The main difference this morning was that it was raining, puddles were forming on the roadside forcing me further out into the lane, and most cars that passed me showered me with a refreshing spritz of road-water, the type of stuff mixed with all e rain and dirt and oils found on heavily trafficked roads. Fortunately I only had to endure about 3 miles of that before I could turn off. A few miles later I was rolling my way onto the bridge to take me out of Kitty Hawk and onto the mainland. The bridge was 3.5 miles long and the sign reading “High Crosswinds” was put in place for a damn good reason. The winds constricted my pace to a dull crawl, and whenever a truck would pass me the winds would twist up and send me veering left or right until I could steady myself again. It was brutal across the bridge. The sea below me rolled with whitecaps and my outlook matched the grey skies. It was a brutal ride across the bridge, the islands one last effort to crush my soul, but once I made it off the round turned and the winds died down immediately. This was when I noticed that my feet were starting to hurt. They had been soaking in the rain all morning and had taken on that pruney texture that comes from sitting in a bath too long. I stopped at the first gas station I passed and took some napkins and tried to dry them off. They didn’t look good but they were covered in various kinds if road dirt or stains from my sandals and it was hard to get them clean.

I carried on, by now the rain had stopped and the road had nice shoulders and the wind had turned and was now at my back. The road was recently replaced and was smooth and I was finally able to put some distance between myself and the outer banks. I was stunned at how quickly something so beautiful became so atrocious. I was thankful that someone had enough sense and was able to fight to have such a large portion of it preserved.

Another problem I started to have was the battery Lu of my phone. It was waning and due to the rain and the overcast skies the past few days my solar charger was serving no purpose other than weighing me down. 20 or 30 miles after the gas station I stopped at a seven eleven, ate some terrible gas station food and sat there for forty minutes charging my phone from one of the outlets outside of the building. My destination in two days would be my aunt and uncles house just east of Richmond and I would have to deviate from the route and follow google maps. The deviation would be taking place another 15 miles up the road and a charged phone was a must. Looking at googles instructions, they had me taking a path to cut north west through the dismal swamp and then go north to cross into Virginia. Once I left the route I was glad to have been making good time. This happiness ended as soon as I reached the Great Dismal Swamp. Google, again, he’d led my horribly astray. The “path” through the swamp was more of a ditch that had been hacked out some time earlier but nature was slowly taking it back. I’d gone several miles along country roads to get there and there was no outlet to go around except going all the way back to where I parted ways with my maps directions. I figured if I was able to brave the off-road path outside for Charleston I could do the same here. So I proceeded through the branches and plants and rocks and dirt and hanging brambles and sand and sticks and reeds and the swamp surrounded me completely. Fifteen minutes later I was only slightly more than a mile in and it was past 5 o’clock and I still had 9.5 miles to go. I was bleeding from several scratches from the various plant species and a little amazed my tired were still inflated. I came to the realization that making it through this path would be incredibly difficult to traverse before sundown and of all the places to get stranded in North Carolina at night the Great Dismal Swamp was at the very bottom of the list. I was forced to turn around and backtrack the way I’d come, burning precious daylight and cursing myself for being trying to take on something named so aptly fitting for its setting. The way I ended up taking was the actual route the maps told me to follow in which I rode along the southern edge of the Great Dismal Swamp which I might have at a different point in time considered it to be very pretty in a swampy kind if way if I hadn’t wanted the whole damn place to collapse in a giant sink hole. To make matters even worse, my rear tire had sprung a slow puncture, no doubt from that dismal, Dismal swamp. I changed my tire as the sun began its final descent. Shortly thereafter I finally crossed the state line and vowed to leave all my hatred that had been stewing and brewing in North Carolina the past day in North Carolina where it belonged. As the sun was setting I began considering where I should sleep for the night. After the entire ordeal of the day I considered a motel room but they just don’t put motels in the middle of rural Virginia, or campsites for that matter. A few miles up the road I saw a middle aged lady talking with an elderly lady at the end of their driveway. I stopped, introduced myself, explained what I was doing and then kindly asked if they would mind if set up my tent on the edge of the property for the night. They smiled big smiles and said no, citing reasons that their dogs wouldn’t like me. The told me to maybe try Mr. Jackson’s lawn a few houses up the road as he had a big yard. Everyone had a big yard here, and Mr. Jackson wasn’t conveniently standing in his driveway and I wasn’t going to just camp on someones front yard without permission in a state with liberal gun laws as the two ladies had suggested.

The sun wasn’t getting any higher and I continued on, eventually passing a thicket of woods with a small opening. I wheeled my bike a few meters into the woods and then started to set up camp. Whole doing so, I noticed that my spare liter water bottle had fallen out of its cage, again the Dismal Swamp’s doing. My other water bottle was nearly empty as was my 3 liter bladder. I didn’t have any water to clean myself off, brush my teeth and had to ration my supplies as I still had a few miles to bike the next morning before hitting a town where I could refill. I got in my hammock and laid down stinky and sweaty and thirsty. When the sun set I could feel the temperature drop. I loaded my hammock with a few shirts and two pairs of shorts along with my bed sheet so I could “layer” myself so I wouldn’t wake up shivering. Then I slept, exhausted after enduring what was easily the worst day of the entire trek.

July 31: Newport, NC to Rodanthe, NC - 130 Miles (including ferries)

Thu, 02 Aug 2012 08:08:14 -0400

I came to in the morning very cold. The rains from the day before had cooled the air and my bed sheet was not adequate insulation to keep me warm in my hammock. The sun wasn’t quite risen and I took down my camp and got ready to go. Alex was getting ready for work and I thanked him once again and we said our farewells. I was on the road at 6:20 Andy was determined to make the 11 am ferry 50 some miles up the road. I peddled the first 30 without stopping, winding through pleasant country roads with almost no traffic. I stopped for food and coffee at a gas station and then it started raining, not hard but enough to remind me of the misery of the pious day. It didn’t last long and I continued through various nature preserves toward the ferry on Cedar Island. The route took me along wetlands and a creek paralleled the road and fish were constantly jumping out of it to wish me a good morning, or to eat insects although I preferred to believe they were doing the former. I reached the ferry with a half hour to spare and after the cars were loaded on I rolled my bike aboard. It was the biggest ferry I’d been on so far which was reasonable enough as this boat would be taking us to Ocracoke, a 2 and a half hour ride away. I had been cloudy all morning and it wasn’t until the ferry departed that the sun if ally started shining. I had a slow puncture in my tire so I changed that during the ferry and studied my maps. I was anxious to get to the Outer Banks and the ride went quickly. I tried to get a snack from a vending machine but I was foiled by a malfunctioning coil and no amount of shaking or rocking would set my pretzels free. I stopped assaulting the machine when I started getting looks from the other passengers.

Once the ferry docked I set off again.The town of Ocracoke was beautiful, little houses and beach shops set down amidst an island paradise. Everybody on the island seemed so happy and things were done slowly there. My next destination was 15 miles up the road to board another ferry. The road took me along the beach and sand swept dunes. Every few miles there was a “parking lot” for people to explore the beaches. It was a relaxing ride and it was a pleasure to see such a large stretch of beach untouched.

The next ferry was smaller and was a short 40 minute ride to Hatteras, which was just as pretty as the previous island. I continued north and eventually had a burger at a local grill. The further north I pushed the more development made its presence known. I slept at a campsite in a town called Rodanthe. It was a town made up of different RV campsites and the charm of the islands had suddenly lost their appeal.

July 30: Wilmington, NC to Newport, NC - 120 Miles

Thu, 02 Aug 2012 07:40:39 -0400

I awoke early because I wanted to have a big day on the bike. John was kind enough to set his coffee machine for me so I had a hot cup waiting for me and he also left breakfast for me. I was very grateful and got off to a strong start. The day before it was blisteringly hot and I was nervous about the heat hindering my pace. The sky was cloudy all morning and the sun never made an appearance. The first 50 miles blew by but as I neared Jacksonville, NC it started to rain. Despite the weather I pushed on and it kept raining and raining and raining. I continued on and eventually stopped to get out of the rain when I saw a Moose lodge with an awning outside. I was standing outside for about 5 minutes before an old man came out and started talking to me. He was a salty old red neck bastard, handle bar mustache, scruffy hair, cut off jean shorts and a NASCAR t-shirt. He wore large glasses and had a wiry frame and it was difficult to understand him as his speech was warped by a heavy southern accent and senility. He offered to let me inside and I politely declined saying if I was closed to air conditioning I’d be shivering on account of my soaked clothes. His name was Charlie and he had an unnecessarily strong handshake, surprising for a man of his age. He insisted I come in to the lobby where there was no ac. He kept asking me if I wanted anything and if he could get me anything. He informed me he didn’t drive and he was waiting for the rain to let up so he could walk home and he even offered to let me sleep at his house. He mentioned all this information several times and each time he repeated himself I was able to translate what he was saying into coherent thoughts in my head. I noticed there were several outlets in the lobby and I told him I was going to charge my phone. I walked outside, grabbed my charger and plugged it into the wall. When I did this he said something incomprehensible and I just smiled and laughed. Then he repeated himself but his tone got very cold and he started yelling at me about plugging things in, how “they” might not allow it and he could get kicked out. I didn’t know who “they” were but I certainly didn’t like them and Charlie was starting to freak me out. He stormed off into the lodge leaving me sorely confused. I figured I liked the rain better than these strange Moose-folk and took my chances on the road.

I stopped in Cape Cateret at a McDonald’s for lunch and waited out the rain which finally let up around 4 pm. I had already biked 100 miles and I didn’t feel as tired as I thought I’d be. Newport was not 20 miles away and I had another warm showers host willing to let me set up camp in his backyard. His name was Alex and he and his family were excellent hosts. They had two small boys named Cooper and Ian who were fun to interact with. I discovered that after spending a day on a bicycle by myself I’m able to deal with the incessant quests of a 5 year old because any social interaction is better than none. They prepared a scrumptious Tilapia dinner with mashed potatoes, steamed veggies, and purple eyed peas. Mmmmmmm. I ate and then updated my blog and had to turn in early. I’d be taking a ferry the next day, which was 50 miles away and I wanted to make the 11 a.m. boat as the one after that didn’t leave until 1 p.m. I retired to my hammock I’d strung up in the backyard and promptly fell asleep.

July 26-29: Rest Days in Wilmington - 0 miles

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:07:03 -0400

Thursday: I was at the bus station to meet Stephanie at 8:45 but she was delayed an hour so I sat around for an hour amongst other bus station folk. The Wilmington greyhound station was brand new and had a sleek modern look to it which did a decent job distracting you from the seedy types that hang around bus depots. She finally arrived and then we went back to the hotel. By this time Drew, Kevin, and his girlfriend Daisy had arrived and we all went out for a mediocre lunch. Afterwards we took a nap and at night all of us went out to a wine and beer bar downtown where we met the wedding party and the rest of our friends from high school. It was nice to be reunited with such old friends.

Friday: The wedding was at 5 p.m. and I had a busy day ahead of me, mainly I was charged with the self appointed task to make myself look presentable for the wedding. Our other friend from high school, Bethany, works in fashion in New York and she swallowed some awesome juice earlier in the week when she hand picked suits for me, Max and Drew to wear to the wedding. I had a lime green jacket and matching shirt and pants, Drew had a blue color scheme and Max won the ridiculous card and was sent a pink suit. We all looked good, really good. I had to go find a belt and shoes and get a haircut/shave, a seemingly easy chore list to accomplish by the time of the wedding. I did not anticipate the hotel buffet and the post-breakfast chores turned into a nap until 2 o’clock. I then scrambled around town completing my tasks. I settled on white shoes and a white belt.

There was a good amount of people at the wedding, a 130 and the planners did a wonderful job. The reception was at the same place at the ceremony, which was held outside and there was a heat advisory and the 20 minute service felt longer than it should have. We were luckily able to stand aside in the shade and I felt bad for the bridesmaids as I watched them melt in the merciless Carolina sun.

Danny and Michelle but looked stunning, they’re a perfect couple for each other and I wish them many years of happiness.

Saturday: Stephanie wanted to go camping on Masonboro Island, a nature preserve just south of Wrightsville Beach. The island is a thin strip of land, all sand dunes and small sea grasses. It used to be off limits but has recently opened to the public. There are no facilities on the island and you are quired to take off everything you take in. I chartered a water taxi for us and them we went and bought food and water for the night. At 4 we boarded our boat and Captain James piloted us to the island, dropped us off in a small cove and said good bye until the next day. We walked along the beach and explored the sand dunes. It was a beautiful contrast to the mayhem at Wrightsville Beach, we only saw six other people on the entire island. After exploring we picked out a suitable spot and set up camp, camp being a blue plastic tarp. After some time I noticed some dark clouds forming in the distance and my rain paranoia kicked into full force. I moved the tarp into a little ditch on the side of a sand dune and tied another tarp as a rain cover. Shortly after getting it set up it started raining and we managed to stay dry under the canopy.

It was very sandy and I loathe sand. In fact the entire island was nothing but sand and it was everywhere and it got everywhere. The sand was omnipotent on Masonboro and sleep was difficult. The difficulty was compounded by the sand fleas that came out and started eating us alive while mocking the bug spray we applied earlier in the evening. We ended up seeking refuge in the hammock tent we had. The island was devoid of trees so we just laid it on the tarp and zipped the mesh closed and went to sleep. Falling asleep was a dream because I was able to escape the sensation of sand and the fear of bugs. The sleep was not sound and I awoke several times at night in which it took a few seconds to remember I was covered in sand and reality once again became a nightmare.

We awoke with the sunrise and the fleas were still out in full force and swarmed me when I exited the tent. Covered in sand and bugs I ran to the ocean to cleanse myself. A few yards into the Atlantic I took a step and something, my guess would be a crab, pinched my big toe and I turned heel and fled out of the water. The bastard broke my skin and I was bleeding. Nowhere was safe on the island and I anxiously awaited the arrival of Captain James to rescue us.

Stephanie has a different version of the experience, she rather enjoyed herself and no irony was lost on the fact that the Brooklyn girl was more adjusted to camping than the guy whose being camping across the country. The beach is a different breed of camping, especially when one vehemently hates the sand. Despite my discomfort, it was still an wonderful experience to be on such a remote piece of beach front land, falling asleep to the oceans roar and the cool sea breeze.

Sunday: After getting back to e mainland we went back to the hotel and took a much needed shower in Max’s room. We had kept our bags and my bike in Kevin’s room and after having breakfast together they checked out and we drove over to Eric’s hotel in downtown Wilmington and hung around the pool until everyone had to go to the airport. Stephanie’s bus wasn’t until 7 so we wandered about the city, had lunch and then sat around a covered spot along the Cape Fear River while it violently rained. We then took a cab to the bus station and I saw her off. It was tough to see her go and I look forward to getting home to see her again.

I had arranged to couch surf that night and my host, John, as kind enough to pick me up from the bus station. He had a bike rack in his car and he took me to a bar called the Satellite where he met his friends every week to listen to live music. The place was great, the music felt like a ho-down. There was an upright bass that drove along two banjos, a mandolin and a group of fiddles. I absorbed the music while looking over my maps, trying to figure out how long it would take me to get to Richmond. I’m looking forward to exploring the outer banks this week. After an hour or so John drove me to his house. He had a spectacular garden in his backyard, that which rivaled my mothers garden and I was quite impressed. He had a very quaint house and he had an eye for design, the decoration was impeccable. John was very kind, he allowed me to do laundry and even told me he’d set his coffee machine to turn on by the time I’d be up (I was due for an early start) and even offered me breakfast for the morning. After a rough night in Masonboro I fell asleep almost immediately in his guest bedroom.

Photo

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:05:51 -0400

Sunrise

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:05:27 -0400

Sunrise

Our beach fort.

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:05:11 -0400

Our beach fort.

Sand dunes.

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:04:43 -0400

Sand dunes.

Sea grasses

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:04:25 -0400

Sea grasses

Photo

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:04:06 -0400

Pristine beach

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:03:45 -0400

Pristine beach

On the boat to Masonboro

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:03:17 -0400

On the boat to Masonboro

First dance.

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:02:54 -0400

First dance.

Me and Stephanie

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:02:38 -0400

Me and Stephanie

Bridesmaids getting roasted.

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:02:03 -0400

Bridesmaids getting roasted.

Photo

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:01:20 -0400

Us good lookers and the groom.

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:00:56 -0400

Us good lookers and the groom.

July 25: Carolina Beach, NC to Wrightsville Beach, NC - 20 Miles

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 21:00:17 -0400

Today was the last day Max and I would be biking together and we didn’t have far to go and the relaxed distance allowed us to sleep in and get a late start. We rode at a leisurely pace and a few miles from Wrightsville Beach we stopped for lunch at Arby’s (a favorite dining establishment of Max). There we were able to contact our friend Dave who was in town for the wedding and we rode to meet him at the beach. Tourist season was in full swing and the beachfront was a battle zone of bodies, towels, and umbrellas. After following Dave’s detailed instructions of “go right at the beach” we managed to find him and his wife Brooke after a few moments. Dave and Brooke were married two years ago (the first of our friends from high school) and they a expecting their first child this October. We relaxed and caught up for a few hours on the beach and then Max and I rode to our hotel and checked in. We were just in time for social hour which included free complimentary beer and a “small meal”, “small” being what we could only imagine a relative term for the region as the meal was a country ham dinner with all the fixings served on a buffet line. After the meal we found a local bar and reflected on Max’s marvelous week of bike touring. At the bar we met an older gentleman from Texas who was in town working on the filming of Iron Man 3, he was an assistant to Robert Downey Jr. After some time we retired to the hotel room and went to sleep. The following day our other friends would arrive in town along with my dear sweet girlfriend who was taking a bus down for the wedding. I did not take any pictures this day.

July 24: Myrtle Beach, SC to Carolina Beach, NC - 60 miles

Mon, 30 Jul 2012 20:58:52 -0400

When we awoke Shelly cooked us delicious egg and sausage sandwiches and then continued her glorious streak of generosity alive by offering to drive us out if the city to help us avoid the local roads which are frequently congested with traffic. We graciously accepted and loaded our bikes into her car. Her idea to drive us wash raps one of the best on the entire trip because the route google maps had given us took us down a nasty highway (which we drove along) with no shoulders and entrance and exit ramps and it looked like cyclists might not even be allowed on the road.

She dropped us off at a gas station and we pushed on from there. We stopped frequently to give Max’s knees a rest and eventually crossed into North Carolina. We rode along coastal roads which were very scenic. The day was uneventful and we soon found ourselves boarding a ferry and crossing the Cape Fear Sound. We were shuttled across the waterway and released on a slim strip of land which led into Kure Beach, a seaside summer vacation town in which most of the beach houses were painted in bright pastel colors. It was very picturesque although I did not stop to take any pictures. We kept peddling and when we got to Carolina Beach we found a motel room, ate the most delicious meal of the time we spent together at a local BBQ joint, bought some beer and then drank it while watching a lightning storm in the beach. We both thought it was strange that we couldn’t hear any thunder.