Entering North Carolina

I went into this trip with the primary intention of self-exploration, thinking that a long distance trip would give me the time to work out questions I've had in the back of my head for a long, long time. What I've received, so far, is nothing of the sort. I've been blindsided by a view of my fellow humans that I don't think I've ever quite had before, or trusted myself to have. Every day since I arrived in Key West has brought me into contact with people who've given freely, whether it's food, advice, a shower, or a place to sleep. I'm in shock, every night, as we sleep under a roof that's been given, in complete trust, to shelter our smelly, loud, and Northern selves.

Until the last few nights, we've been using the church connection, as I've explained, and our hosts have been more gracious and trusting than I ever could have imagined, but the events of the last two nights/days have brought it into a much sharper perspective.

We'd been dealing with rain and heavy traffic for a few days, so when the clouds broke again yesterday, mid-morning, we holed up in a Starbucks tucked into a long, long highway of strip mall after strip mall. In all honestly, it was the first chance I'd had to think to myself in days. There've been many times over the last few weeks that I've sunk into myself as we pedal through forests and swamp, long stretches of solitude with little to no traffic, Jeff's constant talking the only sound other than the land itself. Cycling through rougher conditions requires a bit more focus, however, and the intensity of making sure you or your compatriots don't die under the wheels of a logging truck or spin off the side of the road doesn't allow for much reflection. We sat for two hours, and I spent the first getting my thoughts and my legs together. The next priority was making a few phone calls, one to my sister and one to a friend whom I'm missing terribly right now. While standing outside, talking to my loved ones in the drizzle, I made a discovery that turned the gloom around in an instant. The previous day had been harder than usual on my legs, and though I felt alright, no soreness or fatigue, I just couldn't seem to get my speed up without a stuggle. That morning had been the same, and I was honestly worried that I was losing steam, but as I was routinely going over my bike, I noticed that a rear brake pad had shifted, and lodged itself just so slightly on my rim, just enough to make contact. I was so happy that it wan't some physical glitch, and so pissed at myself for making such a rookie mistake. When the rain cleared and we rode on, happiness won over as I pedaled on air, barely feeling the resistance after training for a day and a half with brakes on.

The day turned over from here on. We entered North Carolina, embraced by it's sweet smell after two days of rain. The ride was smooth, the drivers were helpful, and everyone we rode past waved and wished us a good afternoon or good luck. It was cake. We continued on, coasting like we had all day, and found a Dominos' pizza tucked into a road station. Not being the kind of people that'd turn down pizza, we ordered a big one and sat down to wait. Around five minutes into our wait time, 5:45 to be exact, I mentioned that we'd be cutting it close on getting to the ferry that we needed to catch, they probably didn't run all night. George responded with agreement, "no, the last ferry's at 6:15." . We were all silent for the next few moments, all of us doing the math in our heads. It was now 5:50. 19 miles to get to the ferry, buy a ticket, then get on board. A pizza in the oven for us. We all knew that we should've left right then, that the chances of doing 19 miles in an hour with full panniers and a constant headwind of 12 mph were slim, to say the least. Now, I know some of my fellow bikers are reading this and thinking, "sissies...", but after 19 days of being in the saddle all day, 19mph into a headwind is basically a one hour sprint. We readied up, and when that pizza was done we ate it in two minutes flat and jumped on, sprinting into the wind for a full hour, exhausting our lungs and our legs, spurred on by the knowledge that if we missed this ferry we'd be stuck right where we were. We moved as a unit, we didn't want anyone to get left behind, but when the clock was coming closer, we sprinted faster, thinking that if one of us made it in time we'd figure out some way to stall the boat. At 6:13, Jeff and I rolled into line, waved up to the front by attendents who were turning down cars, no room left except for bikes. We paid for three tickets and began to explain that there'd be no way we'd leave without our partner, when George rolled up, exhausted, and we rode right onto the ferry, which immediately shut it's gates and rode out. I still can't beleive we made it.

We rested our legs and spoke to a young couple from Wilmington on the ride over, and moved slowly on when arriving on the other side. Things just got more beautiful from then on, as we rode through narrow roads lined with cypress, watched a doe and her fawn walk alongside the road with us until a car came and spooked them, and watched the ocean crash along the beached rocks.

This is where I began to think differently.

We stopped at a park where a children's soccer game was going on, just needing a drink from the fountain and a stretch of the legs, and I was approached by Janet, a woman who's daughter was playing on the field. She asked where we were going, and after I told her and talked for a moment, she offered us shelter and a shower. Out of the blue. We were welcomed into her house that night, fed, cleansed and given a place to sleep. Also, her ten year old daughter beat me in five consequetive games of Uno-she wanted me to mention that to everyone. We had good conversation, slept, had coffee and rode on the next morning.

Within the first 15 miles we came across a diner that drew us in on smells alone, just inside Wilmington. Again, we were offered shelter by a fellow biker who'd travelled across the states himself, from Seattle to Key West (which totally put us to shame), but since were headed North, he offered his assistance, handing us his cell number in case of trouble. The owner of the diner made the rounds a little later and visited with us for awhile, and when we got up to leave, told us that our breakfast was on the house.

Now, as I type this I'm about to sleep in Surf City, NC, in the home of a marine biologist, who we met outside a gas station, and also who's planning a tour through Michigan later this year, and wanted to hear advice and routing schemes.

As I stated before, Everything we've been handed so far has been church-related, but the last two days have taken us off of that grid, into the realm of the general populace, where I feel a little more in my comfort zone. It's given me some Thoughts, and I'm realizing that I don't need or have to think about myself.

The view from the deck of the home we're sleeping in tonight.