Rolling Hills of Georgia

Eight o'clock in Statesboro, GA, sitting in a coffee shop recommended by some church folk at the United Methodist church here in town, where we'll be hanging our heads tonight. Jeff and I felt the need to get out a bit, and give Kevin and George a little space. The two of us can be a little intense to travel with, and we both knew the others could use some time away, for a little personal peace and a chance to make some calls, connect with their home base. So now we sit in what is actually a tea room, where we've efficiently cleared out the clientle of middle-aged housewives with our funk, baked-in tan lines and general rattiness. At least the girl at the counter doesn't seem to mind.

So, another good day. Another 73 miles puts us at 772 total, out of a distance of around 2,700 miles. Not a bad feeling, clocking in at about a quarter of the total. We had a second warning about not being armed, this one from a boy who seemed about 4 or 5, who hung out with us as we ate our lunch, amazed at what we're doing. As we stretched and readied the steeds, he asked, "ya'll got weapons in case anything comes up on ya...?". "What do you mean?". "Well, you know, anything. Some folks, some animal, like a fox or somethin'. What'll you do if a fox tries to creep up on ya?". I've been thinking about that all day.

No sign of any fox, not yet anyway. Did have my first dog scramble, though. Had to sprint as one of the many loose farm hounds made a run at me, specifically. Must've liked the look of my leg meat. I sprinted ahead of everyone else, thinking it'd be a good move, but it moved right at me and I had to kick into overdrive to tire it out. I'm sure it won't be the last.

We did get our new maps, which is a relief for everyone. We've been flying blind since our decision to head north, and we've done well, aside from a few roads with a little more congestion than we're comfortable with. So, maps in hand, we're heading North, first to SC, than NC, two beautiful states that I can't wait to get to. Georgia's been great, aside from a constant feeling that something's watching from the side of the road, and I absolutely love the way the women talk and act down here, but I'm a northern boy, and I'm looking forward to that division line.

I miss my loved ones a little more each day, but at the same time I'm becoming a little more comfortable being on the road, in almost constant motion. I can see that when this is over, it'll be hard to re-adjust to my former state. I took this on as a way to clear my head a little, and examine myself. I need to think about some things that I've avoided thinking about for a long time, and now that the routine of the road is becoming second nature, my mind is clearing out a bit, and I'm finding the time and space to clear out the mental debris that's kept the important stuff buried away. To be honest, I haven't had any spiritual or personal revelations just yet, but having the chance to clear out the garbage is help enough at this point. We get so stuck, sometimes, living in necessary routine, that we forget why it is, exactly, that we're in that routine.

I need to ask myself why I've put myself where I am. Why I've chosen to work alone for so long. Why I've put off the things that would make me happy and complete. Maybe they wouldn't? Questions we all ask ourselves, I suppose. Questions that seem so trite when we vocalize them, but are so important, so much a part of everyone's thoughts that to simply ask them seems to strip their power...

So, I'll ride on, and open myself up, and be grateful that I have the chance to do something like this at all.

 

 

Here's me too tired to swat the Georgia gnats away, a quick rest...

George and Jeff, ready to eat. My beer in front.

A Quick Photo Break...

Two days into Georgia, and we're all still alive. Just left a little store in the middle of nowhere, where the owner, a really sweet lady named Sue, a true southern lady, held us for conversation for some time. The best was as we started saddling up, as she looked over our rides. Someone told her to be safe, and she laughed,"You're the fools riding these little bicycles with no gun strapped on...". She laughed and laughed and we nervously started pedaling. So, we just had a quick break, I'll post more details later, just wanted to throw some photos up real quick...

The Fulsom Funnel

Rest-Time in the mid-afternoon

Shelter from the rain

 

Crossing the Border

Finally, we got ahead, as opposed to behind, schedule. Crossed the state line into Georgia last night and slept in a new state. I'm not sure if it's a trick of the mind or not, but it feels completely different. The accent is strong, people are loud and slow at the same time, and the sounds coming from the deep, thick swampland is a little creepy. It sounds like there's a lot of hungry critters out there. Still, it was a relief to arrive, we were given a rec room of sorts to sleep in at a Baptist church, hooked up by pastor Allen down in mid Florida somewhere, still helping us out days after we visited his church. The constant church talk and scripture quoting gets to me at times. It's not what I signed up for, and definitely not how I view my own spirituality, but I've decided to be as patient as I can with it, and speak rationally. Now, in the South, I think I'll just hold my toungue. Everything around here seems to center around the church. Not god, necessarily, just the church, and what it's doing, politically. I prefer to find God elsewhere, like on the open road as we ride. It's only a matter of time before I say something that's going to rile somebody up.

As far as the riding? Yesterday was a wet one, raining heavily on and off throughout the day and leaving us full of grit and grease from the road. No shower, just a sink wash at night, but sometimes that feels just as good, and last night it was wonderful. The ride was a different one. We turned inland mid-day, and within a few miles from the coast, the city changed. We'd been following the water, which means money, and now that we're inland we can see the real populace, the people that really live here, all the time. It's not so pretty. Saw a discarded pitbull thrown on the side of the road, a leftover from someone's cruel pastime. Lots of people just sitting, finding a little spot of shade to waste time in and wait. Buzzards greeted us just inside the Georgia state line, about a half dozen pulling at some bloody carcass. As we rode by they lifted their wings a little, pretended to care that we were near, but really it was just a formality, they could care less. We stopped for a minute and Jeff was attacked by gigantic ants, swarming over his legs and biting furiously. The swamp gurgles and never stops making it's wet music as we coast along, amazed by it's beauty but fully aware that it wants to eat us.

We're about to ride, heading through Okefenoke(?) swamp, home of Pogo and others. If I get the chance I'll report back later and post some pics...

 

Florida's last grasp at redemption

We saddled up this morning after taking a much needed day off in Daytona Beach, where potential tragedy was averted as the tropical storm named Beryl struck land near St. Augustine and splintered into smaller, spread out wind/rain formations. We had taken refuge in a hotel near the edge of town, and were eager to move again. Funny, after a couple hundred miles (600, actually), my legs actually want to keep pedaling. I felt a little antsy yesterday, walking through the strips malls and getting soaked in sudden, five minute downpours. Maybe it was because we had to stay there. I still have a hard time doing what I'm told to do, even if it's the heavy hand of Mother Nature delivering those orders. The rest was good and felt well-deserved. I ducked out on the others for awhile, found a little cafe and wrote some postcards, threw on my headphones and watched Daytona stumble by, enjoying a little solitude as my mind came back to me. I need to do that, I still haven't quite gotten used to the constant company. One of my goals on this ride is to examine myself a bit, to find the cracks and shields that've led me to such a solitary life, when I was once so much on the opposite side of that coin. Ironically, it's not so easy to think about yourself when surrounded by others, especially some you've only just met, and have to learn to work with immediately. Then again, typing that out makes me think it might be just what I need. Regardless, everyone took advantage of the time in their own ways, and it was well-used.

So we got our steeds prepped up and hit the pavement early, anticipating rain and wind, and everything else we could expect from a storm named Beryl. We strapped everything in, double wrapped electronics and readied rain gear for quick access, and were rewarded with some of the best riding yet. The tail end of the storm was swooping up behind us, and we swiftly picked up to the low 20s with little effort. The sun was covered by clouds, and the temp held at a cool 75 degrees as the wind, which only a few days ago held us crawling in the humidity to the low teens, cradled our rides and scurried us forward, to the oldest city in the US, St. Augustine.

I never, since my first visit here and perhaps even earlier, would have dreamed I'd ever say anything like this, but I'd love to come back here, to Florida, to spend some time in St. Augustine. Wow, that was even hard to type. We only spent a few short hours here, but the people I met, the architecture, and the general vibe of the place felt more like a place I could be than any city we've ridden through yet. Like granola without the raisins, it had just enough hippy vibe to be chill and easy to consume without crossing the line into self-parody or forced observance. I'll be back.

And tonight? We sleep in the home of Art and Pamela Livingston, whose friend Bob called them after joining us for breakfast a few days ago and explained that we'd be passing by their residence, and since we were explorers like they'd been, we could use a place to recoup. Art and Pam did more than that, feeding us spiraled ham, mac and cheese, veggies, and fresh pie with ice cream, letting us dirty up their shower, and giving us a place to crash.

I have to say, the generosity and humanity of the people we've met so far has amazed me as much if not more than the natural wonder of the land itself. In the past week we've been fed, listened to, directed, given shelter and fed again, by people who we may never see again. I'm so happy to see this, to be allowed to experience true selflessness. Believe me, it helps.

Then again, in two days we'll be in Georgia.

Here's Kevin, navigating in the early sun.

More photos to come over the next few days. Right now I need to sleep.

The wonders of food

Alright, I'm better. One steakburger with fries, coffee, and a banana milkshake, and everthing's fine. It's been a long time since my metabolism's been this ramped up. Those of you who know me probably think of me as pretty mellow, and I am, because normally I can eat one meal a day and be fine, but when I'm biking sixty to ninety miles a day with no breaks, I'm apparently a total asshole if I don't get fed immediately when hunger hits. So, everything's cool. With the riders, anyway. I walked away for a little bit, got my thoughts together and cooled down, mentally if not physically, until we were able to stop for chow. We hashed some stuff out, fed up and I feel even again. Gotta remember that. Eating, I mean.

So, we rode around sixty today, which we've set as the minimum effort to roll each day, adding more mileage if conditions are favorable, which should get us to Bar Harbor in about five to six weeks, depending. If we arrive a little early, we'll head up into Montreal and see what happens. We're on the road North for sure now, abandoning the chance of death in the desert, where wildfires are now raging in our previous path, and moving into hills, and later, mountains as we head to the Northern tip of the US. This means a little bit of shuffling, as I only brought equipment for extreme heat and rain, plus we need to locate a set of ACA maps for the Atlantic Coast routes. I'm thinking that when we've got a handle on where we're going to be in a week or so, I'll make an order from Bens, or scout out bike shops as we go. I am going to need some warmer clothes, and possibly a tent, we'll see.

In other Nic-related news, my wonderful talent for attracting mother natures temper has caught up to me again. There's a tropical storm on it's way, heading for Jacksonville, where we'd hoped to camp out tomorrow night. So, we've gotta figure out early in the morning whether to make the 75 mile dash to the city and shelter before the storm hits, or hunker down here and wait it out. Personally, based on past experience with these storms, and knowing my luck, I'm thinking we should wait it out. George, for some reason, really wants to move out in the morning, I'm not sure why, I thought he'd relish the chance to recoup, esp after fighting the Northernly winds like we have all day. We'll see in the morning.

I have to say, I'm liking the new route. I've been going over the pathways on google and it looks gorgeous the whole way through. A little disapointed to not be doing the coast to coast, but this'll still be good, and I've been getting great footage.

I haven't been taking too many stills, since the video work is taking priority, but here's a quick sampling of shots....

Sunset in Hollywood, FL

 

My bike chillin in Miami

 

Soakin the Sun, before it became my Enemy

George and the beach...

A rest stop, mid-Florida

The gorgeous church in Tequesta that let us sleep on the floor

More pictures to come, both as I travel and as I find time to post them.

Hope everything is well with all of you, I'm starting to miss some peoples somethin' fierce...

It's not the heat, it's...wait....no, it's the heat....

Two days in a row of humid heatboxing, pavement radiating for miles with the wavy lines of baking asphalt. Holy crap, it's hot. We sweat it out yesterday knowing that there'd be some relief today, with fewer miles to pull on our way to Daytona Beach (60 from Titusville, where we'd stayed last night), but we had no idea that as we slept, a tropical storm was taking shape. I think it's already been named,-Barry? So, no rain today, just gusting wind right in our faces for the last 50 miles. It's been 7 days of straight riding, with no break days yet, and exhaustion is starting to hit us, one by one. As for myself, I'm getting a little burned out mentally. I'm not used to spending so much constant time in others' company, and it's wearing me a little thin. I might need to spread out a little, maybe take a day ahead of them and meet up somewhere. We'll see. George is fine, but physically slightly behind, and it's really hard to move slow all the time. Kevin's doing great, keeping pace and hanging with the pack. Jeff is starting to drive me crazy, he thinks he's a leader and he's not. He's constantly going against his own ideas, taking us too far off route for his own reasons.

It's my own cartharsis, I suppose. My own test. Dealing with others is something I've avoided for some time now.

Also, I'll be attending my first Baptist Church Service tonight. I hope they don't ask too many questions.

I'll post some photos later, or tomorrow morning, if I get the chance. We're about to push off.

A Quick Reflection

I just scanned over last night's post, and thought I'd add a quick thought or two, it was so to the point I forgot to mention a few things.

First off, to my loved ones, I miss you. I've travelled before, and have always wished you could see the things I see, smell the air and taste the food of other lands, but more so this time than ever before. I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that I'll be gone for awhile yet, or the physicality of what we're doing, but I truly miss you all. I wish you could see through my eyes.

Secondly, I'm so gratefull that I can be on this adventure. We've met some incredible people already-fellow travellers and others just curious, we've seen the ocean from a tiny speck of an Island to the coastal town we've rested in tonight, and I get to do it all while riding my bike. It's absolutely amazing, and we haven't even hit a week yet.

If there's anything that you really, really want to do, something that would make you happy, not for any reason or person other than yourself, find a way to get it done and do it. It'll make you a little more complete, and everyone who loves you will be just a little happier themselves.

WABASSO!!!!

For some reason that just seems like it's suppossed to be in all caps. It's also the name of the city we're staying in tonight. A smaller town that exists just North of of Hutchinson Island, a beautiful spot with homes for sale " Under Four Million", perched along the Atlantic coast and full of beautiful people and expensive cars. The last two days have shown a true contradiction in lifestyle, as we roll through these surf paradises full of millionaires into the kind of town we're staying in now-smaller places full of the people that work in the homes, stores and kitchens of the people that live by the water. We had a some contact with the "Island" folk today, once when I asked an older lady if there was a place we could find coffee and internet use nearby and she laughed-"oh, we don't do Starbucks on the Island....", and again later in the afternoon, when we stopped in someone's outer yard (it was a gated community), and were promptly kicked out by some poor kid whose boss, another older lady, walked all the way up to tell him to tell us to move on. Kid's gotta find a better job.

As for the riding, it truly was good today, despite some obstacles I'll go into later. The heat is overbearing, and the humidity is turning us into gooey slabs of sweat, but the riding is good. I felt like we all rode well together today, something I'd been hoping and praying for, and also feel like we've broken through on a personal level. We're basically four guys that got together to do this without really knowing each other too much, or not at all, and now we're living together, or rather, living next to each other, for the next month and a half. It really could go any direction, and now that we've had a few days to hash stuff out, I'm happy with the mix. I also decided to come up with names for our bikes.

 

George is riding Toby.

 

I'm with Midnight.

 

Jeff is on White Lightning.

 

And Kevin's steed is now called Long Horn.

 

So, the other details?

I've been lucky enough to be the recipient of our first animal attack, as I completely ignored the warnings of one of our hosts and wandered out to the Ocean at night and had my legs completely devoured by sand fleas, which not only itches horribly all the time but also makes my transformation to complete vagrant almost completely authentic when combined with my lack of shaving and now burned-in tanlines. Anyone seeking a lesson in humility should spend a lot of time out in the sun and cover themselves with flea bites, and then try to act like a normal, civilized human around other, cleaner folk. It ain't easy.

Just to make my leper-status complete, a portion of my arm actually fried today, scaring the piss out of me at first. Tiny little bubbles, like fried pork rinds, formed near my elbow on my right arm, which has been taking the brunt of the early morning sun. Kevin said it looked like sun poisoning, which made it even worse. I'd always considered the sun my friend, and couldn't believe it'd do something like this to me. But it did, and later on all the bubbles popped, giving me a sheath of new skin to destroy tommorrow. By the time this is all over, I'm going to be a mass of skin disease and boils. And we haven't hit the desert yet.

In other, more important news, several developments have come up.

Dirk, our fifth rider, cancelled on us, also leaving us without a place to stay on Saturday.

George hit a wall that he's gotta figure out how to scale. The heat and mileage has taken it's first toll, and he completely lost steam today, disappearing behind us several times as we would wait for him to catch up. Finally, he didn't, and we had to call for a ride into town for recoup. When we made our way to the church, he seemed rested but mentally fatigued, and we're all afraid he's going to get into his own psyche, talk himself out.

So, we came up with a few options, all of which depend on the next few days. We've racked up 360 miles at the end of today, a tenth of our total mileage. Option one depends on how well George thinks he can do on the 80 miles a day we were planning, and basically means staying on route. Option two would be for George to act as support vehicle, carring supplies and scouting ahead in a car. The last option, which seems to be intriguing everyone, would be to switch routes, moving northward and following the Atlantic to it's Northernmost point at Bay Harbor, Maine. It'd cut some mileage off so we could knock the daily total down to around 60, and would exclude the desert, which is in everyone's mind considering how George is reacting to the tropic heat.

It wouldn't be the test we'd originally planned on, but it would still touch two tips of the States, would include George, and we're thinking that if we complete it in time (there'd be around 2,300 miles left to go), we just might be able to head up into Canada and either fly out of Quebec or possibly bike back to Milwaukee.

We'll figure it out in the next two days, before our route takes us Westward towards Alabama. I must admit, it'd be nice to see the southern coast from tip to tip. I'd have to pick up a tent, the bivy sack won't cut it in Georgia or South Carolina.

Then again, San Diego does sound mighty fine.....

 

The Way to Fort Lauderdale

An early start this morning. I saw the sun rise for the the first time in years without having to stay up all night. It's around 8:30 now, and I finally feel centered. Snapped a few times on my fellow riders, and had to make some apologies. Probably a combined effect of my body getting used to the riding, and the mental adaptations-I'm honestly just not used to being around other people in such close proximity. I travel well alone, and I've just realized that this'll be a challenge for me. Part of my hope for this trip is to grow, so maybe this'll help my patience with others. Not that anybody did anything, it's just hard to adapt to the needs of others in any situation, and in this case, with people I've just met.

Heavy dreams came to me last night, none of which I want to publish on a public forum. Suffice to say that my thoughts this morning weigh heavy as a result, and I'm happy we're putting in a long day. I need to get some thinking done, and now that we're out of the urban trap of Miami, the back and forth, stop and start of city riding, we can roll smoothly along the ocean, following A1A up the coast to the town of Tequesta, where we'll regroup and figure out a plan for the night, whether to move along or not. The rain that's been following us on and off looks to be backing off a bit, which is good news and bad, with the humidity and heat creeping in.

Miami, despite it's beauty, was a bit of a trap. The extra mileage we'd picked up the day before was lost to detours and dead ends, as well as a late (though needed) start to get bike parts and replace defective camera equipment. Still working out the kinks, as well as riding preferences/styles. To add the cherry on top, the church we'd planned on staying at cancelled on us (actually, ignored us), and we made plans to camp on the beach, until informed by the cops that it wasn't going down. We ended up in a hotel room, no place to squat outside, which helped the day out, a little comfort and a shower can do wonders.

The sun came back, and it's time to go. 70 miles to go.

Landing in Miami

Logistics and technical failure determined our routes today, and due to some mis-interpeted navigation, we rode more than we should have. What was supposed to be 85 miles crept steadily upwards towards the century mark, ending with 101.8 miles on my cyclometer. Strangely enough, though tired and starting to get hungry like I haven't in a long time, I feel fine. Like I could have done another twenty. I've got to be careful, though. I know that this'll catch up one day and I'll hit the wall, but right now I'm elated that I'm adapting so quickly. It's got to be the speed that we're moving at. Like crawling across America. I feel more like I'm walking than biking sometimes, and I'm being reminded constantly to slow down. That's been the challenge, so far, to move at an even, steady and persistent pace. I know it's wise, and that within a few weeks I'll be begging to slow down, but it can be hard to pull back sometimes. At the same time, I'm going to make sure we stop once in awhile to enjoy the beauty of the land we're passing through.

Our first day was almost a practice run, working out kinks and figuring out riding styles while following the Keys toward the mainland, and really, getting to know each other. Kevin, the retired firefighter. George, the pastor who's realizing his dream of biking from one end of this continent to the other. Jeff, the minister who's the only experienced hand at these kinds of travels, who seems to feed off of physical effort. Myself, who's really just happy that I get to do some of my favorite things, like filming, seeing land and sea I haven't tasted before, and mostly, riding around on my bike all day. I can't tell you how happy such a simple thing can make me. It's been far too long since I've coasted down long, open road like this.

I can already feel my mind relaxing. I've found myself thinking about things that should've been thought about long ago, feeling memories that I've filed away for future perusal come swinging back at me, the barriers and duties that have contained them fading a little bit as I concentrate on simply moving, a little bit every day.

And the road to Miami? Too long to go into detail now, it's midnight as I write this, and I need sleep. I can say that I never thought I'd meet so many kind, generous people in the state of Florida, and that biking down a two-lane road with overgrown glades and swampland on either side is both one of the most unusual forms of beauty I've known, with gigantic herons watching as you creep by their quiet but somehow always moving, slithering habitat, and one of the most terrifying, as trucks speed by, pushing you to the side of the shoulder, sucking you into their draft as they barrel past, not much room for either of you to move for the other.

Tomorrow, we see the other natural life of the land, cruising through the beaches of Miami and it's northernly cousins on our way to somewhere else...

 

When you get what you ask for...

Early this morning, -4am, to be exact- I boarded a plane out of Milwaukee, on my way to the Florida keys to begin a ride like I've never attempted before. To be honest, a ride I never dreamed I'd be attempting. A few short months ago I was asked to accompany a group of bicyclists on a spiritual trek across the Southern Tier of the United States, as a rider and, specifically, as a videographer, the idea being that a video shot from the point of view of an actual rider might shed some light on the reality of how a feat like this might affect someone. Mentally, physically, and spiritually, this might be the most challenging feat I've ever put myself up to, and the bonus of being able to shoot everything as it happens puts the cherry on top. 

To add to the potential drama and possible tragedy (as those of you who've ridden with me before well know), I feel it's important for you all to know that not only have I never toured before, I've never actually camped before either. Which should make for an interesting time....

 

How I decided to take advantage of all this? To walk away from my home, job, and loved ones for longer than I ever have before? It came last October, after floating around in these sulfuric waters, daydreaming and wondering where I was heading, staring at the Arctic sky and letting my mind open up.

 

While floating, a little over six months ago, I had several realizations about where I wanted my life to go. Many decisions were made, but at the top of the list were the decisions that I wanted to return to the craft of filmmaking, and the thought that I would be happy if I was able to travel at least a little bit every year, to places of great beauty. Three months later, out of the blue, I was approached by my friend George Claudio, who's my entry point to all of this, to do both of these things. So here I am, 'cause when you get exactly what you asked for, you'd better say yes, or you might never get it again.

 

Hope you all enjoy whatever follows in these posts. I have no idea what to expect, and that feels absolutely thrilling. And terrifying.

 

 

Coming back to Florida

The view from the 16 passenger plane that took us from Tampa to Key West.

In 1992, I traveled to Clearwater Beach with my friend Steve Rypel, the goal being to experience a Spring break as close to what Rodney Dangerfield had promised us college life could be. Namely, chicks and partying. Capitalized, in the Dangerfield world-as in, "Hey, what this funeral really needs is a PARTY!!!"

What we got, in the pre-internet/gps world, was a trip right into the aftermath of a Hurricane. Andrew, I believe. The whole thing probably could have been avoided if we'd just stopped listing to Descendents tapes-pretty much all Steve had packed in his car, and turned on the radio, maybe to check the local news or weather. We had hints, even, like the 1 inch of snowfall that fell in Tennesee while we drove through, which freaked out everyone but the two kids from Wisconsin on their way to what we thought would be LadyLand. Within an hour after our arrival, we were instructed to head back to the hotel. "Storms on it's way!". We laughed on walked on, what's a little rain? Twenty five minutes later we were running blindly through unfamiliar streets, trying to find a way back to the hotel we'd just checked into, as what seemed like the entire ocean poured itself over the beach. We spent the next two days in that room, wishing we'd pulled the boombox out of the car on our way in.

I saw a lot of beauty in that storm, as well as it's Fury. I will never forget the damage it did to that City, how it overturned cars, ripped off roofs, covered the world in sand, and ruined our party. I vowed never to come back to Florida.

Twenty years later, here I am. I get the feeling that I'm going to get to know this State very well, as we ride along the coast at an easy 10-15mph.

We had our first ride today, clocking in 72 miles after sleeping in a nursery at the 5th Ave Baptist church in Key West. It was a test of a day. Who'd take the lead and when? Who'd hit a wall, and when? Would any gear break off or show it's faults in rugged conditions? I worked on my pacing, as I'm used to moving much faster, but knowing that the secret to doing distance is to pace it all out, and consider the long haul. Everything seemed to be alright, my gear held up and the legs ran smoothly, and everyone else seemed to pull their weight well, despite some kinks that had to be ironed out. Many more will come, I'm sure.

We were rewarded on our arrival a few hours ago. We were planning on sleeping in pews, no showers or comforts, but when a woman from the church's congregation heard of us, and our travel plans, she offered to put us up in a rental property she owns, which was sitting vacant. It's absolutely stunning. The kind of place I could never afford if I was vacationing. A pool, wi-fi (which is why I can post this tonight), a kitchen, and beds.

This might be our most restfull stop on the journey, and I don't want to be spoiled, but I'm going to enjoy any hospitalities or moments of peace that we encounter. Thanks Linda, we'll sleep well tonight.

Tomorrow, we head to Miami, birthplace of one of my best friends and a place I'd never thought I'd go to voluntarily.