From swampland critters to woodland varmints

We made our way into South Carolina earlier today, and although my Northern bones are aching to cross that division line, I must admit that I love this land. The tall trees lining every road, the narrow pathways in front of ancient, crumbling houses where folks sit and wave to us as we pass, the constant rustle of life in the woods, snakes, turkey vultures and falcons, even the three dogs that chased us today will settle in my mind for a long time. These people are different from what I'm used to, that's a solid truth, but they've all been gracious at the least, and their generosity, whether in simply caring about our welfare, feeding us, or giving us a place to rest for awhile, is blowing my mind. It simply doesn't exist in our cities. It can't-the giver would be chewed up and eaten alive. I just wish they'd stop telling us we should be carrying a gun.

Tomorrow, we ride to Charleston, a long trip but with the reward of a day of rest. I plan on spending most of Sunday at the oceanfront, trying to even out these tanlines and racooned eyes. I need some new supplies as well, since we're heading northward and I mailed my desert/scorching heat equipment back home this morning. Today was our 12th day of riding, with one day of rest, and tomorrow makes 13, which should bring us to around 885 miles, which is a little more than a third of our total trip. I think that calls for a little fun to be had.

The rest of the guys all seem to agree, in their own ways. George is looking forward to some time with his thoughts, Kevin is looking into historical spots and Aquariums, Jeff's just happy to be able to pick up his new Iphone, which was sent to the city as we travelled, and I want a taste of the city itself. We've fallen into a good riding pattern after two weeks together, and although we all want to stab each other once in awhile, we haven't, and I'm thoroughly amazed and impressed at that. Although, as I type this the other three are all sleeping, and have somehow created a grand symphony of nasal meandering, each taking their turns at the solo, sawing away and away. We'll see who makes it till morning...

Sitting in a swing on an abandoned porch, ready to bolt if someone opens that door. I've seen this movie before....

Some swampy, beautiful waters.