The last leg

This is not my last post, but it is the last leg of this journey. I did it, I've finished. It was probably the hardest part of the trip - really - but some of the most adventurous, some of the most beautiful, and, I really am going to miss being on the road.

So let's tell the story, shall we?

We left off in Radford, Virginia. I woke up surprisingly refreshed and thinking that yea, maybe I'd just got for the whole enchilada. I would ride the 140+ miles in one day, no matter how long it took, just to get back to Boone. So off I went. The day started good enough, warm, sunny, past most of the steep mountains for a while, and there was an actual bicycle trail ahead of me! Not only that, but it would last for over 60 miles of my trip. Not only that, but, yes, the trip even started down hill!

I surged down the road, got off the main highway and took a nice side road with much less traffic. Then through a small town, and down yet another mountain. By this time, there surely wasn't much of the mountain I climbed way back up in Christiansburg, so I expected it to bottom out and have to go back uphill, which it did, for a bit, but not nearly as much as expected. Then I passed an Interstate 81 overpass for the last time and coasted into Polaski,Virgina. Polaski is important. Why you ask? It's the start of the New River Trail, a beautiful addition to Rails to Trails system. One that hugs the New River for over 60 miles, with a slow, effortless, 1% incline for almost the entire duration, and what's more, definitely my second most favorite part of the whole trip, and a really close second at that.

But good things are sometimes hard to come by, and I actually overshot the entrance to the trail, mistaking it for what else? A railroad line. This ended up being an egregious mistake, as once I noticed, I was already down a steep hill. But luck! Google indicated that the trail would also meet up with the road I was on, and it kind of did, just 30 feet above atop a steep, rocky ledge. There was no way I was going to get on that trestle bridge, and I was too stubborn to turn back, so on I went, thinking that maybe I'd climb a mountain to meet up with the trail again when they crossed by the river, but I went down before I went up, and the satellite communication on my navigation started to get iffy, worse, I was already almost out of power on my first battery. Being an extra long day in rural mountainous, Virginia, I needed to conserve, so I winged it for a while.

 And sure enough, up a steep hill I went, which winded up and around the hills in this area. IT was a bit out of the way, but it looked like I'd be at just about the right height when I was going to meet the trail again. I looked on the phone and, ACK! I had misread it, the road and the trail never would touch, but there was this tiny park that may be the connector I was looking for. When I got there, it wasn't looking good. The trail was again up on this rocky ledge, and the park was down below. There was this dirt road that was adjacent to the park, so I took it. After a while, I started seeing signs such as "No trespassing" and "private driveway." I nearly turned back, but after another bend, I saw it, a tressle bridge on the same level as me, there was a problem though. Two houses, two properties, between me and the bridge - lots of signs. I made a break for it anyway. I passed the first house and driveway, then shot through the driveway of the other. There was a car and then a chain that the had put up in their driveway to cordon off the New river trail from their connecting driveway. So I quickly passed the car, picked up the bike mid ride, hopped the chain in one simultaneous leap, and got back on the bike as fast as I could.

SAFE!

On the trail. Not a peep from the house, fortunately. Maybe they were just as freaked out as I was, or maybe they didn't notice at all. I wasn't taking any chances. I got on the bike and started the ride down the trail. It was amazing! Not even but a mile down the road, I encountered a huge bridge crossing the New River. I felt compelled to stop and take a few pictures. Then I had to take a few more on the bridge, you can see them below. I had a fleeting fear that I might have dropped the cell phone off the bridge and into the water, but I think the pictures were worth it.

The trail took me along the bank of the New for miles, just right along beside it. IT would curve and then I would curve. It kept at a very, very slight 1 percent grade all the way up. The trail cut through mountains and got very narrow at times, just barely wide enough to fit a train. You could see the grooves where the pickaxes cut into the rock. I started thinking about all of the workers and how long it must have taken them to make such a wonder through the Virginia mountainside, and how it's still here, being used, albeit for a much different purpose. You could still smell the coal ash on the bridges, I've always been fond of that smell for some reason. It takes me back to a simpler, bygone, era. One where the  community that you were born into was likely the only community that you'd ever experience. One where it took tremendous effort to travel any great distance. I often wondered what it would be like to live in those times. I passed through a tunnel, again, with the axe marks, encircling me from all angles, it looked like a rough-cut gem, stained black by coal soot, and the smell! So incredibly intense, like a train had just passed through. On I went, through the rural countryside for another 20 miles, until I encountered a - caboose and train station?

So apparently midway through the trail, the have converted an old rail station into the park's gift shop. It had that old timey feel, but inside, in the middle of nowhere, they had electricity and running water! Awesome! I was able to fill my depleted water bottle with cold, fresh water and, after talking with the park ranger who managed the shop, I even got to charge up my cell phone again. Of course, buying over $10 in snacks, chips, peanuts, and candy probably helped to convince her. She told me that they were hosting a triathlon in 3 weeks and that I would be a good candidate to try it out. And I felt like I really could have done it too, so I took wrote down the information to look at later. Unfortunately, I didn't really have a ride to go, but it planted the seed of things to consider some day in the future. I also met a few other cyclists who had apparently seen me at the big trestle bridge earlier, who showed up about 20 minutes after I had arrived, that kind of made me feel good - apparently I was booking it up the trail. They left promptly after a quick purchase, but said that there were going another 10 miles and then turning around. So I waited around a bit for my phone to charge and as a little challenge to myself, I had hoped that I would pass them up before they turned around. So I waited until my phone was a charged a good bit, thanked the ranger and floored it down the road. My phone was telling me that I was going 25km down this dirt trail...my fastest consistent speed of the entire trip. Even with breaks, I was able to hold onto roughly 20km for the entire duration of the New River Trail, about 40 miles. Oh, and I did end up passing those two cyclists right before they turned around too! The trail had some beautiful views, countless trestle bridges crossing the river, and even a few hydroelectric dams to give it the occasional old-industry feel. This is a place that I will absolutely return to at some point in my life.

The clouds came in on the last couple of miles, it had been a clear day before then, but I had heard that it was supposed to be rainy. I knew that I was almost to Galax, but I just didn't know how far. And it was looking like it was going to get bad, and quick...so I needed to race to the end to find shelter. So after 7 hours of riding almost nonstop, I mustered the energy to throttle myself back up to high gear. I had to be pushing 25km/hr and above. I could hear the mytracks ticking back up to an average of 20km/hr, first 18, then 19, then 19.5, and so on. CRACK! Lightning struck the trees on the other side of the water, I could feel the energy in the air, and feel my ears pop ever so slightly. BOOM! As the thunder came not even a second later. I pedaled as fast as I could. Then that ominous wind came bustling through right before the downpour. Then the rain and before I knew it, I was drenched, completely drenched. I had to slow down for the sake that the ground was turning into flash-floody mudslush. The water mixing with 7 hours of sweat turned to salty acid and was furiously burning my eyes to the extent that I had to keep them closed as much as I could to stop the burning. Long straightaways became blind straightaways, only looking when I thought I was close to a turn or when the road got bumpy. I kept on at a relatively quick pace. Galax was fast approahcing, I started to see houses and cabins and parks along the path. I knew I was close. Then came the winds, it was like a full-on instantaneous tempest. The first surge took me from my right side during a right hand turn and nearly blew me and the bike over and took me clear from the inside track all the way to the edge of the trail on the other side. The rain was bouncing off of my face like tiny water balloons. I started to wonder if hail was in my future. Lightning continued to strike and thunder continued to boom shortly thereafter. I must have crossed one of the most severe cells of the storm. All the more fodder for me to hurry and get to a shelter. Then another gale passed by, but this time I was in the forest and the wind hit me more towards my back then to the right, but I heard something eerie. The taught SNAP of a tree and then the creaky moan and the thud of hundreds of leaves and branches hitting the ground. A tree had fallen into the path not but a few hundred feet behind my...where I just had been. I started to actually feel fear for the first time on the trip. I had to get off this path. I raced to the next clearing, and hit....paved road? A parking lot, a caboose, the end of the trail! I had made it! I was in the middle of town. So I quickly crossed the street and sought shelter under the awning of the CVS across the street.

The water had nearly washed away all of the sweat by now and my eyes were pretty much no longer in pain. I rubbed them for the first time since the rain. It felt so good to wick away the rainwater and salt. The little things. I wrenched my shirt creating an instant puddle on the formerly dry sidewalk. Got slightly drier, to the point where I felt it wouldn't upset the store clerks too much, and promptly walked inside, got cleaned up in the bathroom and asked how to get to the next town on my list - Sparta. The clerk didn't know, but a customer did, but the route was confusing, so I thanked him and decided to pull out my phone from the dry pouch (a tennis ball tube that I had bought in Newport News and promptly gave away the unneeded balls that came inside) - the only thing still dry in my luggage. I got a quick idea of where to go and proceeded to down a few energy bars - my dinner for this zealous day.

It was after 5pm now and the rain had stopped. The sun came out through the clouds and gave the whole area that shimmering angelic clarity you sometimes get after the rain has cleansed the air and made everything new again. It warm sun added some much needed energy and I got on the road again. I went down the downtown bypass and started up the mountains again. I had been spoiled from the slow, relaxing 1 percent grade up the mountains for so long, and it was tough acclimating to actual climbing again.  It didn't help things that this happened to be a particularly steep road. "Skyway Rd" or something like that. It was starting to get to that golden hour and the sun would be going down soon. I pondered bypassing Sparta and the short route and taking the windy, curvy, steep up and down road that is the Blue Ridge Parkway, it would be safer for bicycles, but at the same time, the time it would take to conquer it would be nearly double, so I forewent the parkway for now and opted for the highway. I thought back to climbing that mountain in Christiansburg and it gave me the determination to keep climbing this slightly less monolith, it seemed to go on forever, but finally my secondary road came up. It was a relatively unused road that straddled the peaks of the mountains. IT gave some more clear, crisp views of the mountains in twilight, but I didn't get to enjoy them as much, since my brakes were wet from the road and weren't handling the down sections all that well. I had to keep at a slower pace going down, especially with the way the road curved and followed the mountain peaks.

The road kept going through the rural mountains for a few miles, I started to see Christmas tree farms. The road started to plateau now, for a few miles. I passed a small village, consisting of a small diner that was in the center of a few of the farms, but the diner was closed for the night. But right after the diner? Welcome to North Carolina! I had hit the border! I was back in the area I had started from! Not only that, but I was less than 10 miles from Sparta, and what's more, I made a right turn back onto the main highway and it was a steep downhill! So I flew once again - the road was straight so I didn't have to worry nearly as much about braking. By this time, I was hoping, practically begging, that the road was going to be all downhill to Sparta. It was nearly night time now, the sun had set behind the mountains and I realized that I was tired of riding for the day.

But this road was just like all of the others, and eventually it bottomed out somewhere between the fourth and fifth mile it bottomed out and I was once again climbing. I was starting to get angry at inanimate things. Cursing the hills, cursing the road, cursing any cars that passed by, cursing the stream, the river, the bridge. It was almost a game finding anything I could curse at, but it kept my mind off the aches and pains from nearly 10 hours of riding - there was no one really around to hear anyway.

I got to the top of the hill and started down again. Hoping once again that this would be all downhill to Sparta (I originally thought Sparta was in a valley - and it kind of is, but more like a plateau). Alas, this downhill petered out after about a mile. I needed a rest, so I pulled over at the next road. Night had fallen now, and I was still a long way away from my destination. So I broke down. I called a few friends to see if I could get a ride, and I only got some maybes, and I kind of convinced them out of it anyway. Regardless, it was nice to talk to everyone, get a rest, and get some energy again. I checked the map on my phone, and oddly enough, it was telling me to take the road I stopped at, but Sparta was straight ahead? Was I to bypass the town? I kind of had wanted to rest and maybe eat something at a restaurant in Sparta, but I wanted to be done even more. So, I took the road.

It was a very dark and somewhat busy road, very up and down, so I was wondering what could have been so much worse about the other way. Google often tries to give you the easiest route, so the other way must have really been a nightmare, because this was no dream. I passed through more tree farms and suburban houses, climbing roads that were nearly as steep as the one by Ashland. There was very little downhill reprieve and I was starting to move at a sloth-like pace. Finally, a gas station sign in the distance! I had hit the highway on the south side of Sparta and I was done with that terrible road.

The gas station was closed. So I got out my last few remaining snacks and sat down in the rocking chair in front of the store and started to work on my bicycle's brakes. The clerks were counting the cash inside. A guy drove in finagled with the gas pump and came to the door. The automatic pumps weren't working so he knocked on the door and asked the clerks. they got him working and saw me in the chair. I guess they took pity on me because they let me in the store to buy snacks after they had closed down the registers. I bought some chips, a juice, and a few packs of peanuts for the road. I thanked them profusely and then went back to sit in the rocking chair to enjoy my feast. As they were leaving, I asked them about directions to the Blue Ridge Parkway. These busy rural highways were freaking me out and I didn't want to get sideswiped by a car on my last day of riding. They told me it was about 10 miles down the road, but the asked me which way I was going, I mistakenly said north (because Boone is northwest of Sparta?) and they said good, because the south route is closed. So I had to make a decision - to take the Blue Ridge or take the mapped out way that turned just 5 miles down the road. This time I opted for the parkway.

After passing the road that Google told me to take, and another 2 miles thereafter, I realized my mistake. I was to be going south, but it was once again too late in my mind to turn back. What's more, I realized after not stopping in Sparta that I wouldn't have enough battery left to navigate my way back to Boone and the parkway was a sure shot. I wanted to take the Blue Ridge Parkway.

So there it was, the onramp to the parkway, and there also it was, the sign telling me that the parkway was closed a few miles up ahead. I decided to give it a go anyway, if it was a bridge out, hopefully I could climb the mountain on foot to the other side. If it was a bridge over a stream, my bike and I would cross it. So on I went, with more and more ominous signs along the way. One car actually passed me along the way. I was afraid it was going to be a ranger telling me to turn back, but it was just a guy with Florida plates, and I saw him again about 10 minutes later going back in the other direction. I hoped that I would be more fortunate, and by this time, over 12 hours of riding, I honestly just didn't really care anymore. Only one thing was on my mind, getting back to Boone, and I really felt like I was close....maybe even just another 30 miles, that wouldn't be so hard, right?

And there it was, the barrels starting to block the road, there was a lookout point on the left, so I laid down, took a break, and thought really hard about what I was about to do. I wondered where I was, it was dark, I found a sign but couldn't read it. I checked the cell phone, about 30% left. I turned off the navigation, turned off the maps, texted a few friends about the general idea of where I was and then turned off the ability to make calls so that I could conserve power through the night. I turned on the light for a moment...stone mountain overlook. "Stone mountain? Isn't that by Winston Salem?" I thought. Well fortunately for me, it wasn't that far, but was still much further from my destination that I thought, over an hour by car. I put up the phone, got up, decided that I was ready to do this, and made my way past the barrels. There were still work zone signs after the barrels, which I thought was interesting, you know, just in case you happened to barrage through all of the barrels standing in your path. I also missed the sign that was apparently next to the road blocking barricade I went under that said "this area is dangerous for cyclists and pedestrians" hmm, oops.

So on I went, maybe illegally, but hey at least there wasn't going to be any cars. I took it nice and slow, I was spent by now anyway. I kept going, but the road was no different then before the barricade, strange ideas started popping into my head, like maybe I'd encounter some sort of secret alien meeting ground, or military training exercise. About 5 miles down the road I started encountering boulders in the middle of the road. One side of the road would be littered in them and the other side would be clear then the other side would be littered in boulders and the opposite lane would be clear. I saw drainage ditches and masonry work. They were merely doing shoulder work. They had lines drawn to make partitions, like road markers? I dunno, but it went on for miles, up and down the mountains. Then an area would be clear, and then I'd see construction equipment large enough to carry boulders, then boulders, and of course, the occasional work truck - which I kinda feared may have the occasional person in one.

So on I went, for over 20 miles. It felt eerie being the only person around in the area. Solitary, and with the roads, it almost felt post-apocalyptic. Fortunately, no bridges were out, just the shoulder work. The road work ended with the barricade on the other side, the side where I did actually notice the "dangerous for cyclists and pedestrians" sign. Whatever. It wasn't that dangerous. The construction work dumped me out at Doughton Park, where there were actual RV's in the campgrounds. Civilization again! SO on I went, down a hill, and wow, actually even passed a car going the other direction at 2am on the Blue Ridge Parkway! I'm sure he was actually even more surprised to see me.

 So one I went, up and down the mountains, in the dark, well after midnight. The parkway was windy and foggy, just as it always is, but I was able to keep a good pace downhill by riding in the center of the road. From driving the parkway at night once before in November 2010, I learned that there are almost no cars traveling at night, and the ones that do, you see and hear from a mile away. So on I went. Even in the middle of the though, I started smacking into spiderwebs. Now this was a new thing for me. These webs that stretched across the parkway must have been massive, and if that was the case, then the spiders, well I don't even want to think about how big these spiders must have been. Seemed like one of these fellers must have hitched a ride with me too, because every so often, I'd get a web shot into my face, or on my hand...yea, it was kinda freaky. I started flailing around a bit, trying to smack the hitchhiker off while I road, this didn't help remove the spider, but it did help me stay warm, as traveling on the parkway at night in late summer was starting to get a little frigid. I sped up down the hills, maybe the wind would push him off of me. No luck it seemed, but after a while, the web spinning just kind of stopped.

By this time, it was after 2am and I was beat, I'd been riding for 16 hours, that's two eight hour shifts for those of you in the working world. I could not longer pedal up the mountainous terrain anymore, so I started doing what I did last time I rode on the parkway, I hoofed it up the steep parts and rode down the mountains and on the flat sections. I wasn't getting very far at all, maybe 4 or so miles per hour and I was losing steam fast. I felt like I had traveled so far on the parkway, the road to Boone must have just been past the next bend. Alas, this was not the case, and after another hour more, I stopped, stood, not knowing where I was, not seeing any signs for anything familiar, I decided that this was the end of my journey today. I would not make it to Boone on this final day. The Blue Ridge Parkway had beaten me once again. So I walked to the next overlook, conveniently just a few miles down the road and I parked the bike by the only picnic table. Too tired to even set up the hammock and knowing that I was in for a frigid night, I wrapped myself in it, and covered myself from head to toe in my shelter blanket. I would have even put on my other sets of clothes had they not been still wet from the torrent earlier, and I slept on top of that picnic table.

Shivering while the tenseness and heat from 18 hours of physical activity was escaping my muscles, my back sore from sleeping on a hard tabletop, the sun peeking on the treeless overlook kissed what little was exposed of my face early in the morning. It had to have only been maybe 2, maybe 3 hours. But I couldn't bring myself to get up just yet. I knew I was so close to my destination, but my body was too ravaged from the night before. The wind was just strong enough to whisk away the heat and so I continued to shiver. I wrapped up tightly in the hammock/blanket and the sun gradually warmed my body as it slowly rose in the sky,

Around 8, a guy in a hatchback drove up to my quaint little overlook. I'm sure I looked part explorer and part bum, laying there atop that picnic table, but I was apathetic. He must have noticed me stirring, because he asked me from afar if I needed a ride. I told him that I didn't think there would be room for me and the bicycle. HE asked where I was going, and I said Boone, astounded at this point, he asked how in the world did I end up here. I assumed at this point that I really must be in the middle of nowhere, and quite a ways from Boone. I thanked him for his generosity, and after a time of enjoying this pristine overlook he drove off, headed the way from which I came.

At around 10, I was finally starting to feel a bit uncomfortable from the heat, and rested enough to embark on whatever distance was left ahead of me. The loud exhaust blasting the air from group of bikers that came to the overlook was the motivation I needed to get up. So I folded everything neatly back up onto the bike and walked the bike to the road. I don't remember who spoke first, but I ended up talking to the bikers, asking them how far Boone was, they had come from Asheville and they said the dreaded words I feared....that Boone was still quite some distance away. They offered me a pack of cookies, yes,bikers with cookies, as a condolence. Running out of food. I hesitantly took it and thanked them as they went on their way. So I got to the bike, and realized that I had left my sunglasses on the picnic table, and I'm glad I had to go retrieve them, because when I got back to the bike, the largest freaking spider I have ever seen was sitting atop my bicycle seat and he looked pissed! Like, "I was snatched from my web last night and taken for a sadistic joy ride for 20 miles" pissed. And, ya know, he actually looked like he was ready for a bare knuckle fight. Being 100 times bigger than him, I wasn't too terribly scared. I picked that bike up, lifted my leg up over the center bar and sat right on that little sucker. "Blast me with web and then commandeer my bicycle will ya?" I thought...

Naw, just kidding, I took my water bottle, put the bike in the overlook, and scooped him up onto a nice thick green patch of grass. He still looked pretty upset though. Spider free, I got on the bike and embarked on what I hoped would be short, enjoyable half day trip.

The road still looked familiar, and I never saw any signs for West Jefferson and the like, but after 10 miles, I eventually came up upon a country store on the Blue Ridge Parkway. It was open, so I walked in. Alas, no plugs to charge the phone, but they did have a map. What luck! I was less than 15 miles from the Cascades! A group of three steep waterfalls that swiftly surge down a mountainous embankment, abutted by a set of castle-like rock terraces - and a place that I'd been before. I finally knew where I was!

Knowing how far something is can be a boon and a curse. Now that I know how far I was from the cascades, I could taste victory, however, those last few miles also go sooooo slooooow that it's mentally painful. It felt like hours before I finally made it, and come to think of it now, it probably was hours. "Just over the next hill" I thought over and over and over again. It got to the point where I just stopped thinking about it, and then, there it was! There was a fountain there, and lots of people enjoying their day. I hovered over that water fountain for minutes. The water was so cold, so crisp...it was the most delicious water I've ever consumed. After a long stint at the water fountain, I took off for the next goal - Jefferson mountain overlook.

It wasn't too far before I reached my next destination, surprisingly much faster than I expected - just up one mountain. There were some bikers there, and I felt accomplished, so I asked them to take my picture, the same type of picture I had taken a few years before. Atop the overlook sign, on the edge of the slope, and with nothing but mountains and air in the background. I couldn't help but give it the "I'm a freaking warrior" pose. They were glad to help and took some more from their camera, they said one of the pictures were going to be shown during their performance at the local motorcycle festival they were playing in that night. Felt good, man.

We exchanged goodbyes and I got on the road for one last trek. I remembered from my previous trips to this overlook that the road up to it from the other side is long and steep. I was going to get to go down this epic mountain at full speed. I sailed, I mean, really flew. It took up until about halfway down the hill before the band of motorcyclists finally passed me. It felt dangerous, but thrilling at the same time to see them slowly pass me on their motorized vehicles with much thicker tires. I got to the parkway/421 bridge. The parkway section was over! Now, just 10 miles down the busy 421 highway, lay my destination.

I got the phone out, which had just enough battery left, and tracked my last 10 miles, my speed, the height, everything. I was so excited that I tried to keep a speedy pace on this very last leg up. I wanted to get there in less than an hour. The shoulder on 421 was so wide that I had no worries of cars getting too close, so I didn't even look back, I just went. Then the sign for Boone, 5 miles. Then the Old 421 light. Then the dealerships. Then Bamboo Rd. Then I was there! Boone! I had made it, I was done! I stopped by one of my favorite coffee shops, turned off the mytracks - just under an hour of riding. And I celebrated with the sweetest, most caramel and chocolate filled "would you like some coffee with that" drink I have ever drank. And it was good.

But I had 2 more miles to overcome before I was back to the June house. Hills that used to cause me trouble were effortless, nothing like how I had remembered them before. I was at the house in a blink. No one was home, so I sat in the armchair, patiently awaiting the return of my friends. They got home shortly thereafter and were absolutely surprised to see my beaming face looking up at them as they entered the house. That night, we all celebrated over at the Russians' house. We took the car.


Here are some stats from the trip:

Days of the trip: 36
Days traveling via bicycle: 19
Distance traveled: 1200 miles
Average distance per day: appx 60 miles
Longest day: 9/2 - nearly 18 hours of riding ; nearly 150 miles
Weight lost ~ 20lbs

GPS coordinates map - Here
Summary/Rough map of route taken (easier to read) - Here


Well that's it! It's done! It's over.
 


I feel like I have accomplished something. I've met some amaing new people and reocnnected with some great old friends. I've learned more about myself,and what I'm capable of. I've found something new to do that I love doing, and I've learned the power in setting small little stepping stone goals that end up turning into one extraordinary achievement. Lastly, I've reaffirmed my belief that most people you meet are inherently good, just living their lives one day at a time. Just like you and me.

I had an adventure.

And I can't wait for my next one.

Topsail to Hatteras Part 3 - Hatteras Island

I got to Hatteras midday. H-A-T-T-E-R-A-S!

I'd never been here before and it was a place I've always wanted to visit. A place that I can now check off of my bucket list. It was serene, once again, not nearly as commercialized as I had expected. Hatteras the town is a small village with a few seafood restaurants, an ice cream shop, a small town IGA, and wow, even a coffee shop! Yes, really, it is that unscathed from the tourist bomb that happens upon it every summer, and for that I was incredibly thankful.

First on my checklist was to find the location that would be accepting my phone, Hatteras Realty, so I stopped in and chatted with the clerk. She was similar to me, visited here as a tourist once, fell in love with the area and eventually moved here. She said the storms could make life a hassle from time to time, but otherwise the place was an amazing place to live. We also talked about housing and property prices. Surprisingly, it's incredibly cheap for what you might expect, in the 100k to 200k range, cheaper than Boone! I thanked her profusely for accepting my phone while I was traveling, and said I'd see her again tomorrow.

Second on my checklist was to find camp. The island is so tiny that it really isn't an option to just camp somewhere in the woods. I mean, there aren't any woods. After conversing with a few people at the visitor's center. I was informed that there was a really lovely camp site maintained by the National Park Service, it was a few miles down the road, away from the town where my phone was coming in, I'd have to backtrack, but it seemed like the best option for the night. The wind howled in my face the moment I left the shelter of the town. I was making little headway down this stretch of road, definitely less than 10mph. It took me a while to finally reach my turn in Frisco, the next town over. I passed the airport, winds still gusting into my face. I noticed the wind sock by the runway, tattered and torn, from the looks of it the gust winds was a usual occurrence.

The camp was right there in front of me. A ranger post guarded the entrance way. I pedaled closer and noticed the ranger inside, so I stopped. While the ranger was getting out, I noticed a sign on the building. "Camping $25 a night." Shucks! I hadn't thought about this before. National forests are free camping sites. National parks are apparently not. On the other hand, free national forest camping usually isn't on a well maintained plot of land with a bathhouse. My mind raced as I thought about what I was going to do. I was on a limited budget and trying my hardest this trip to not have to pay for lodging. I was going to have to turn back and look for somewhere to sleep that night. With the wind howling as it had, I figured that I was yet again going to have a night of no sleep.

We exchanged pleasantries and I told her about my journey. After a few minutes, I asked her about the sign, indeed just as the sign had said. Camping $25, I told her that I was going to have to turn back and look elsewhere. I probably looked pretty defeated at that point and she took pity on me, asking where I was going to go. I told her that I would be looking for a plot with some trees by the marsh. She informed me of another campground about 10 miles down the road, adjacent to the lighthouse that was also part of the park service and did not have a rangers post. You still had to pay, but it was an "honor system" you put your money in a slot. She said that there were no trees and it was windy. I thanked her, prepared to make the ride and started to turn around, but she stopped me. She said that she was envious of my trip and since I didn't have a vehicle that would do any damage to the area, she was going to let me stay for free. She signed me up for a plot, told me not to tell anyone there about her generosity, and let me in.

The place was majestic, a mile long loop along rolling sand hills with more than 30 camping plots scattered up and down the property. A bathhouse with showers, and decent tasting water. A long boardwalk that climbed the dunes and let out on the beach. Even better, the dunes blocked out almost all of the wind on this side of the island. I was going to get a warm nights sleep!

I rode around and found my plot nearly at the top of a sand hill and got to work setting up camp. I didn't have much to tie my hammock to. A large bushy shrub with maybe limps slightly larger than an inch around. The shrub was about 4 feet tall, much wider than it was tall, with prickly leaves, and rubbery limbs. I tied the hammock line towards the inside of the shrub, getting pricked up from head to toe as I found the trunk of the shrub. The shrub had a lot of give, and I was worried that it wasn't going to support my weight, but it was all I had. On the other side, there was nothing to tie to, so I grabbed the picnic table that was provided with each camp site, and I shimmied it over by the shrub. I tied the hammock as tight as I could and gave it a test. *SLUMP*  the hammock drooped down to the sandy, cockle burr covered ground as the picnic table gave its ground and slid towards the shrub. The burrs pierced through the hammock and into my skin. So I got out, pushed the bench back out, drawing the hammock as tight as I could -the rubbery shrub pulled taught as if I had set a snare trap. I proceeded to through everything I could in front of the picnic table to stop it from moving again. I moved mounds of sand in front of the legs - burrs digging into my hands as I unearthed them. I winced, but it wasn't as bad as when you unexpectedly step barefooted on one of those suckers. I put the bicycle and pack in front too. The hammock seemed to hold. The entire ordeal taking much longer than I had expected, the sun was starting to set. So I set off to the beach to try and enjoy it while it lasted.

I've always wanted to live somewhere where you could see both a sunrise and a sunset occur over the water. There aren't really that many places on the earth where this happens, but the outer banks happens to be one of them. The sun rises at the corner of Hatteras, right where the lighthouse stands, and sets over the sound. If you had a whole day to rest on a sand dune on the outer banks, you could see this magical phenomenon happen before your eyes. With no earth but the earth your standing on, the sky is clear, pristine, almost untouched by humanity. The sun set, turning the ocean from blue to gold, the sky, pinks and purples, oranges, and reds setting over the sound. The waves still crashing fiercely upon the shores. No one but you, like a sole shipwrecked survivor on a deserted island, walking on the beach. It was quiet, peaceful. Ethereal, almost like a dream, too good to be true, but there it happened, right here on earth. Right here on the outer banks. I want to live here.

I walked down the beach as it grew dark. Eventually I did see people. A fire on the beach in the distance. Yes, fires on the beach are completely legal here. Their reels towering almost 20 feet into the air, phosphorescently lit to show the bobbing of the tides, or more if they had caught a fish. A group of 10 partying and enjoying their vacation in the middle of nowhere. It was dark now, the only light provided by the clear sky above, displaying the wispy milky way in all of it's glory. And a little light that blinked every few seconds off in the distance...Cape Hatteras lighthouse. I was here.

As I walked down the beach, I was abruptly stopped by a stringed up fence. I could barely make out the sign. "Sea turtle hatching area." Just over this line was a stretch of beach soon to be occupied by little baby sea turtles. I couldn't see any and I didn't want to disturb their hatchery, so I turned back to turn in for the night.

I sat on the picnic table for a moment. Not only did my ranger give me a free spot for the night, but she game me one of the best spots. The lighthouse shone in the distance,. The beacon letting me know it was there every 7.5 seconds. I could see the rays from it as it spun around in the night. I looked up at the milky way one last time as it started at one horizon and stretched all the way to the other. It was the first time I ever remember seeing it so vividly without a cloud interrupting it's path. Then I said goodnight to everything and went into my hammock.

The hammock was pleasant at first...as taught as could be. Though, I was worried that this support was only fleeting, and I was right. I nodded off for maybe 20 minutes before I felt my back touch the ground. It was a little unpleasant, but it would just have to do. I had combed the area with my hands earlier for any burrs, so it was just lumpy sand at this point. Within 3 hours I woke up in searing pain. My back was wrenched from being full on the ground now, with my head and legs still up in the air. It was time to get up and man the picnic table. This went one for another hour or so before I finally gave up. The lighthouse in the distance kept my spirits up slightly, but the night was difficult and unrestful. After a few battles with the picnic table in the middle of the night, I decided to flip the massive thing over, thinking the surface area would add more friction. I was wrong, it operated more like a sled on snow. So I undid the hammock from the tree, in the middle of the night, getting stabbed once again. Untying the thing without light was nearly impossible. I tied the hammock to the grill that came with the campsite, and also to the hammock. I climbed in and instantly I heard an extremely loud metal CLANG that I'm sure woke up at least someone up in the middle of the night. The grill piece had fallen into the grill basin. SO yea, that wasn't going to work either.

I eventually flipped the 8ft table over once again and tied the hammock to the legs of the table, but the legs were only 6 ft apart at most. I'm about 6 ft, and the hammock still had to have some sag to it. I tied it as taught as I could, wrapping not only the string, but actual parts of the hammock around the legs and got it. The hammock was tiny, with maybe 4 ft of actual sleeping space, and the bottom just barely scraped the "floor" of the picnic table. It wasn't enjoyable, but tolerable. It was chilly by no and my space bag was tattered to pieces, but I did manage to get a few hours of sleep-like stasis before the sun came up.

With as much discombobulation that I did to my camp, I figured that it would be a good idea to get out of the hammock at the crack of dawn. As soon as the sun started to warm my makeshift cocoon, I was out and working. I flipped the hammock, fixed the grill, untied the hammock, and apologized to the poor tree (the tree looked okay). I even rescattered the sand mounds I had made. The site looked just as it did before I came, as it should, and just as I had finished, a few park rangers passed by in a golf cart. Glad I got up when I did.

I was able to briefly enjoy the sunrise hovering over the water. People who know me, know that I don't usually see sunrises, unless it's because I'm still awake from the night before. I think that's why I treasure them much more than I do sunsets. And I set off to ride away from it and back to Hatteras town. I had a full day here with really nothing to do except pick up my cell phone, so I enjoyed it. I rode back to town, this time with the wind at my back, pushing me down the road at 14 mph. I was thankful, because I probably couldn't have made it the other way with so little sleep and still-achy muscles. I hopped over to the coffee shop and enjoyed a few conversations with the locals. I got my signature drink, a Latte Breve, and ate a delicious muffin. I thought about maybe swimming, but was worried about my next shower opportunity, I was already 2 days into no shower by now, in the dog days of summer. Instead, I went to the library and was able to do some writing and mapping of my experiences. I also finally got some of those cherries I had been craving from the local IGA, and then I waited by where I was to pick up my cell phone. There was an ice cream shop nearby, so I stopped in. The manager there was tending the front , so we talked a bit. HE lived on a sailboat, I asked him about that, and he said he could travel from here to Florida in less than 5 days. He could take everything he owned and just get up and go when he wanted. A boat you could live on would be around $7000, and of course upkeep, but not overbearing. I'm really considering it.

I stopped by the beer store adjacent to the ice cream shop. How convenient, a one stop shop, kids get their ice cream and the adults could get their beer. The place had an amazing selection for being such a small store, Rogue, Terrapin, Sammy Smith, stuff I hadn't even heard of before too. I was just browsing since I didn't want to drink on the road, but definitely a place to come back to. Then all of a sudden, I got really, really disoriented. And then the bottles started to shake. It didn't dawn on me right then, but next thing I know, someone walks in and says that Washington DC just got hit with an earthquake! Yes, we even felt it down on the outer banks, not much more than a 3 or less I figure, but we did feel it. The news said that the epicenter was Mineral, Virginia and that there was extensive damage there. Rare, I hope it's not going to a regular occurrence.

Shortly thereafter, the UPS guy came with my phone. I got it set up, went back to the library and transferred my GPS data onto the new phone. It was difficult getting the original to work, but I was able to bypass the unlock screen with a magnet, and then use the keypad. I'm not a frequent user of the keypad, but I'm really glad it's there when you do need it. And I was on my way. I traveled to Buxton, then to the lighthouse. Now this was a tall lighthouse! The grand gem of North Carolina. It was after 6pm by the time I got there, so I was unable to walk inside, but I'll definitely be back. I was elated to see it, I finally made it there. I think that I can now be called an official resident of North Carolina. Sadly, it was a short stint at the lighthouse, I had to find camp for the night. I traveled to Avon, now with the wind flaking me from my right side, it was no longer a deterring force. 10 miles later, I was in Avon. I had a famous "Hatteras Flat" at a local restaurant, which was kind of like burnt fried cheese and a tortilla, with salsa and gucamole, filling, interesting, but not really all that great...and then set up camp in a marshy area shrouded by trees behind the Food Lion. It turned out to be the best night of sleep I had had in 3 days. I was so tired that I slept until noon.


With hurricane Irene fast approaching on my heels, I knew that I needed to flee the island quickly. I probably wouldn't survive the storm without proper shelter, that or at the least it would be the end of my trip. I also wanted to see Theresa in Newport News before she had to evacuate. So I traveled at a grueling pace to get off the islands. People were definitely evacuating the area, and taking the only road available, the same one that I was on. Otherwise, the area was calm and uninhabited. The pea island refuge looked just as Cedar Island had, but this time, with water as far as you could see on both sides of this narrow stretch of land.

I crossed over yet another steep bridge spanning the islands and providing some epic views. I also noticed the lighthouse on the other side. Bodie Island lighthouse, I had to make a quick visit. It was smaller, but think I like the look of the look of it more. The manor in front of it tied the whole thing together. But within 15 minutes, I was well on my way again.

My back tire was once again starting to become weak and wobbly. It didn't have much life left to it, so I had to find a repair shop. It wasn't until Kitty Hawk before I found a place. Kitty Hawk to me isn't really much of a place to talk about. It's busy, touristy, and like Myrtle Beach. I was only interested to go here because of the historical significance of the Wright Brothers. If I get more time some day, I'd like to explore it...see where their old bicycle shop used to be, but by this time, I was out of time...The hurricane was traveling faster than me and traveling day and night, and I didn't have any time left. The first bicycle ship I went to was a rental place and did not have the ability to repair wheels, but they did refer me to the "Bike Barn" downon a side street. I thanked the clerk and kept on, by now, barely able to ride on that back wheel, more than 5 spokes had popped and I didn't find something soon, I'd be walking. After some quick directions from a local, I found it, and sure enough, the place looks like a barn. The top floor being the guys home, and the shop below. I got there right at 6pm, the place was definitely a ma and pop hole in the wall type place and I was worried that he'd be closed, but the door was unlocked. He was watching TV, he was on the phone with someone making dinner plans. He seemed grumpy at first to see me, but I told him about my situation. He was a gruff dude, reminded me of this character on an old video game I used to play called "Ski or Die." Sure enough though, he helped me out. He put a new, much sturdier wheel on my bike, but it wouldn't fit, it needed some sort of spacer and he was having a hell of a time making it work. After 20 minutes or so he found some springs and sprockets and spacers and somehow rigged the thing to fit my bike. He literally threw my old wheel into this junk pile behind the counter, he had a technical term for it, I think he said it was "Tacoed."

He wouldn't accept a credit card, though he clearly had a card machine at the counter. I didn't care, I had a functioning bike to get me where I needed to go. So I walked to the nearby ATM, at the beachwear store....uuughhh and paid out the nose to get a Benjamin. I paid the guy, and through all of his abrasiveness, the guy actually offered me dinner, it was his mom that was coming, she was in town, and they were cooking a meal together. And as for the grumpiness, turns out the guy had a cold on top of everything else. Nice guy, hard to read, but a nice guy nonetheless, his mom was a gem. I ate like a king that night, he said he knew what it was like to ride long distances and how important it was to get those carbs. Man that spaghetti was good.

If you want to read more, you can read my review of his shop Here.


Afterwards, it was getting late so he offered me this little shed like area with a shower and a bench, almost like a hostel, to stay in for the night, but I was determined to get off the outer banks tonight, so I graciously declined.

After all that delicious fuel, I was ready to speed down the road again. I didn't like the main highway, so I took the drive alongside the ocean. I floored it, maybe too fast, as I had to weave around garbage pails and the occasional car. Night was fast approaching, but I kept going. The road ended and I took the left onto the bridge over the sound. The sun was past the horizon now and it was getting dark. The bridge had a decent shoulder, but cars were traveling fast, and I wanted to be off that bridge ASAP. It was much longer than I had expected. There was a gas station no too far after the bridge, and I decided that's where I would stay for the night. I recharged my batteries, consumed well over a gallon of soda, and did some reading while evacuees filled up on gas. I eventually got to talk to the clerk and he said that it would be completely ok for me to sleep behind the gas station. The area was all grass with no trees, but a dirt road kept going down past. At around midnight, I traveled down, on the other side of a suburb - a farm on the other side, and a lighted park in the distance and I found a hammock spot in the middle of three pine trees. I was asleep before I knew it.

Early, around 7am I was awoken to the sound of an old woman. She said something along the lines of "I don't know what that is Sparky" and peered around one of the pine trees. I slowly rose, my face hidden by the white netting of the hammock. I looked around, and crap! I had nested right in the middle of someones yard! How had I not seen that white house right next to me last night! She squinted trying to look through the netting as I rose, I must have looked like some kind of alien rising out of it's cocoon. I said "It's a hammock" as she jumped a foot into the air, thoroughly startled. Her dog, now barking, terrified as well.  "And I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I had camped out so close to someone's house." She exclaimed "Oh no your good hon, I'm just walking my dog" and promptly scampered off.

Well, by now she was probably calling the cops I thought, no use even thinking about trying to catch another wink. I promptly packed up and was on my way to Newport News.

Another quick update - hurricane Irene

Today I finally left hatteras, in fact, I've left the outer banks altogether. I'm just ahead of the hurricane and should make it into Virginia Beach tomorrow during the day, where I will promptly find a shelter from the storm. Hatteras was amazing! I'm almost finished with my Hatteras post but there is so much to talk about!
I've also mapped out my trip so far, so you can see where I've been by going to google maps through this link:
http://g.co/maps/pf9b
Well, that's all for now, goodnight everybody!

Topsail to Hatteras part 2 - Okracoke

After a horrific night of no sleep and mosquitoes, I was ready for the ferry. Bonus! the visitor center had coffee, so I promptly finished their pot. Then walked out to the sound to dip my feet in the water. It's crazy, I had forgotten since I was told in 8th grade, but the sound is shallow, like really shallow, for miles. I walked out nearly a quarter mile from the ferry landing and was still only up to my knees! The water is eerily still for what you think should be ocean water too.

I came back in to the landing as I saw the ferry coming over the horizon. This area is truly beautiful. So calm and peaceful. Relaxing, completely masquerading the vampiric mosquito haven it becomes once the sun sets.

The ferry ride to ocracoke was a fast 2 and a half hours. I met a lot of people on that ferry ride. A motorcycling police officer from Colorado on his second cross country trip. He mentioned that the outer banks was one of his favorite places in all of the country.

A business executive on vacation. An inventive fellow that had a folding bicycle that fir all into a small bag. 3parts locked in to form the frame, put on the wheels, and bam! Functional bicycle. He was particularly interested in my trip and the ability for humans to overcome any challenge. I shared some of my experiences thus far, the first full day, getting lost in Saluda, not being able to shower through 5 days of riding, trekking through NC, and the people I had met along the way.

Some cyclists came with us onto the ferry as well, they were there making a day trip of it, getting on the outer banks for the day, visiting Okracoke, and then heading to Manteo the next day. One of them had been riding in every state in the US, save for Alaska, which he was getting to soon.

I also briefly chatted with the waitress from the previous day, who was also going to Okracoke for the day.
She was cute.

I also had some time on the ferry to walk around, nothing but ocean all around us for all the eye could see, it was at this time that I really started to think of what it would be like to own a sailboat and just cruise the seas for weeks on end.

I also got to thinking about my dog. I was starting to really miss seeing her all excited to see me, and throwing the ball for hours until I was tired, but of course not her. I wished I could have taken her with me, running alongside all the way like she did back in Boone. But, there was no way she could have endured this trip.

We finally got to Okracoke, it was a small town at the bottom of the island. It was surprisingly old timey feeling, unlike the touristy feel of Myrtle Beach that I had grown accustomed to. A small, quaint town in the middle of the ocean, like a small fishing town. It was beautiful, everyone seemed happy and excited to be here. My kind of town, small, by the beach. I could live here. And that feeling only became stronger as I went further down the island.

I toured the lighthouse, the first one I'd been able to see on my trip. It was smaller than I expected, just barely reaching over the rooftops. You could walk right up to it but couldn't go in. There's actually still a couple that lives in the old lighthouse. Pretty cool. A couple asked me to take some photos, we talked a bit. A nearly toothless guy with a gorgeous wife, I wondered what their story was. They were down here from Delaware, for the first time ever and they were in love with the place. Everyone was in love with it. They were on their way down the Carolina coast. I told them about the ferry ride and the long stretch of road that felt like desert back on Cedar island.

Then I was on my way. After the town, there's basically nothing on the island. The road and the powerlines that connect Okracoke to Hatteras. The dunes on the right, blocking off the surging sea, and the sound on the left. It's such a narrow island, had it not been for the dunes, you could see the water on both sides of the island for almost all of the 10 miles.

I came to the first public beach access and felt compelled to get in the water. So I leaned the bike by the sign. There were some serious looking signs about riptides, that I quickly pondered over and then headed towards the sea. It was like any other beach I had ever seen. The water SLAMMED against the shore, and quickly surged up the beach, then RIPPED back into the sea within a fraction of a second. It was ruthless and relentless, angry that this, this island dared to be in it's way. It was an onslaught, no wonder another name for it is a barrier island.

I walked right in, and was promptly attacked by the angry waves. But it felt so good, the sand giving way underneath my toes. The water rising up above my knees and sucking me in further. I could see why there were so many warnings of riptides. I and one other sunning couple were the only people on the beach. Untainted. Pristine.

Off I went, back down the road. The day was hot when you weren't being immersed in water. The wind was quiet, silenced by the towering dunes. The next stop was the Okracoke ponies. It first seemed like a non-event. No ponies in sight, just some stables in the not too distant distance. The story was interesting though.

A Spanish ship, left shipwrecked near Okracoke. The crew marooned on the island for a time, they leave via another boat and have to leave their horses. The horses settle and adapt to the island, becoming smaller, and thrive! Man comes back to the island, sees the ponies and eventually redomesticates them. Today, a handful of the ponies continue to be stabled as a feature of the island.

I saw a wooden path to the right, and having no obligations for the day, only to get to Hatteras, I explored it. It took me through a wooded area and up a ramp to a viewing post and there they were, in clear sight, all just standing there, grazing and resting, not but 50 feet in front of the viewpoint. They were pygmy horses! So I stood there, enjoyed them for a moment, noted the sound just passed, them. Dumbfounded how this small island was able to support them for hundreds of years. I rode back down the wooded path and mentioned the location of the horses to a family with two small children that were absolutely excited to see these small horses. I rode down the road, the distance just flew by quickly. The ten miles felt like four. And before I knew it, I was on the ferry again, chatting with some more day-tripping cyclists.

Topsail to Hatteras part 1 - To Cedar Island

While I have a few days, I figured that I'd finally get around to writing about my experience traveling to and on the outer banks. It's hard to believe that I was on Hatteras just 3 days ago. Even crazier, I left myrtle just a week ago, it seems so much longer than that.

Not having a phone to record the trip from topsail to Hatteras was disappointing. Worse still, I had to rely on main thoroughfares to get there, which meant a lot of shoulder riding as an onslaught of cars passed by. The shoulders in North Carolina for the most part were much broader than the ones in South Carolina, which was a reprieve from the stress of worrying about the cars behind you. The first day took me around Camp Lejune, through Jacksonville and eventually to Swansboro. I stopped in Jacksonville for a few hours, my you're had went flat, but coincidentally, almost right on front of a bike shop, so I walked and and talked to the guys for a while and got my bike fixed. It's amazing the people you talk to on the road, I thought I was doing something extraordinary with this trip, but one of the guys spent 9 months riding from Alaska to the southern most tip of South America, now that's an adventure! I also stopped into a Verizon store to request a new phone. I mailed it to a nice realty office in Hatteras village since they don't have a mailing store on the island, but the first location I called was nice enough to accept the package for me. In Swansboro,  I stopped at the first dairy queen I've eaten at since the one in Boone shut down over 10 years ago. It was delicious and just what I needed after a long day of riding.

That night I set up the hammock by the nature trail at the Swansboro municipal park.

I didn't sleep well in Swansboro. It was a bit cooler at night and I kept waking up. When the sun came up, I was able to catch some adequate sleep, so I stayed there in the park until 11. I think I startled the old couple and their dogs as I walked out of the woods onto the trail, but I think they scared me worse. I've been a little jumpy around dogs lately since I've been chased by so many along the road. That day I rode another 60 miles up until I reached cedar island around 6pm. The ride was beautiful as I started heading up the coast again. But, the best was the 10 miles on cedar island. Oh my god! It was the prettiest stretch of traveling I had done the entire trip. Nothing but a road and marsh as far as you could see. And do few cars, it was serene. I thought that this must be what the middle of the desert feels like, you know, but with water.

Sadly, I had this cherry craving all day, but no where on this stretch of the path had cherries, not even the chain grocery stores. I've been trying to feed any cravings I get as my body probably knows not about itself than I do. The other day I was really craving awesome grapes and cantaloupe. Prior to that was a craving for peaches. On Hatteras it was ice cream. I don't eat much on the road, just typically a few snacks and a large dinner. So any cravings I get, I think, are usually warranted.

When I finally got to Cedar Island Point, the town, I was ready to hunker down for the night and get on the ferry tomorrow. The town had a general store and a motel...but the motel had a restaurant and an adjacent campground. I thought about starting at the campground and had inquired about a lot, but it was $25 for my tiny little hammock, too rich for me. So I had planned once again to find a spot in the woods. I spotted out a place behind some billboards while I still daylight and then went to the restaurant. I had ribs and the salad bar, salad being another craving, wow were they both delicious, those people knew how to make some ribs!

I finished off the entire plate and went back for another salad. Amidst my dinner, I had a sinking feeling people were worried about my absence of communique, so I tried to use the motel phone, but I didn't have auditioned phone numbers and 411 was pointless. I guess most people's numbers were unlisted. I went back to the table and I one of the locals had heard my blight.  His name was Tom and it turns out that he was an avid cyclist as well. He asked where I was staying and instead offered me a place to sleep in the new house he was building by the beach. After a little hesitance I agreed. He informed me that the visitor center for the ferry had showers and bathrooms so I headed there first.

Around 10pm, I stopped by his house. He started a campfire with the scrap wood he had lying around and a talked for a few hours. Turns out that he had ridden up and down both coasts and also had gone cross county twice. His stories made me wasn't to plan a cross country trip even more! And he was only 39! This guy had some ambition. After the fire I set up camp on the stilts below his house. I have to tell you, this night was the worst so far, the wind was whipping around fast, with storms on the horizon. The wind and the cold kept me up all night, and with no woods to block it, it hit me full force and rocked the hammock with full force all night.

Once the wind died down, then came the mosquitoes. They don't call this mosquito island for nothing. Though they couldn't get to me, the incessant buzzing in my ears and the fear that they may be able to bite through the fabric kept me awake. I didn't get any sleep until the sun came up and then I had to crawl out for the ferry at 9. Cedar island is beautiful, but next time I'm staying in the motel.