Newport News to Staunton

Alright, well, it's been a wile since I've posted, so, I figure it's time for an update. Sunday I started off again from Newport news. I met up with the bicentennial trail in Williamsburg. The trail was a nice reprieve from the 4 lane busy roads I had taken for the last 80 miles or so and the trail at this point "seemed pretty straight forward. The route had lots of damage from the storm all over, it looked almost post apocalyptic. Felled trees everywhere. I had to climb over a few with the bike. Large power lines where they were still standing, but a tree had fallen and brought the actual lines to the ground. It was beautiful in it's own respect. That evening, I about made it to Mechanicsville. I guess I was wobbling pretty bad by the end of it, because as I passed a trailer near Roxbury, a small group called me over for a rest and some food.

Actually, it kind of went like this.

Party: "Hey" Me : "hello" Guy at the party "Man you look rough, you need a break?"
Me: (looks back, thinks)
Guy: (sending the hesitation) "Get over her and soot down for a bit, we've got food, yo hungry?"

I hesitate and actually think about it. Which only encourages them more. The guy continues to be persuasive. At this point a woman gets out of her chair and starts to wave me off.

Woman: Donchya worry bout him, keep on going.
Guy: (with authority) "GET OVER HERE AND HAVE A HAM SANDWICH!" (repetitively)
Me: (leery) "it looks like your lady doesn't want me over there"
The whole group, save for the woman: Don' mind her none.
Guy: "Come on over here and get a ham sandwich"

At this point, I'm thinking, not 10 minutes ago, I was worried about what I was going to eat for dinner here in the middle of nowhere, so maybe this was a sign. They seemed like nice enough. Just a group of people having a little party, they invited me over, so I figured why not. So I got off the bike and walked over.

Turns out they were great people, just having an aftermath of the hurricane party, cuttin' up and finishing off the rest of their ham and booze. They immediately offered me up their water jug and a ham sandwich. There was Nicki (the host) , Tug (the authoritative one), Anna (the one that shooed me away), Bubbles, and another older guy. Tug was hilarious, in an extremely dirty kind of way, almost everything that came put of his mouth was about picking up women or "eating that p*ssy" as he called it. He was after all the girls,  and of course, talking about his wife too, never giving it up. His tenacity was hilarious, even if it was crude, the women didn't seem to mind either.

After a while he was just like "you just need to go set up your tent in those trees over there and forget about riding anymore tonight. " and tried to play matchmaker with me and Nicki. Nicki was a little more soft spoken than her counterpart, they had been good friends for a long time. We did talk a bit. She was going to school to be a welder, and she already had her own business hauling junk, though she had employees now to do a good bit of the work. Hers was an inspirational story. Someone out in the country could make it starting out their own business. We talked until the sun came down, then it was time for everyone to leave. I was going to pedal another mile or so down the road, but Bubbles offered a ride to Roxbury, and everyone else encouraged it. So I took him up on it and got another 5 miles down the road.

Bubbles dropped me off at a park in the median of the highway. I thanked him for the ride, but I thought that this could possibly be a dangerous and loud place to try to catch some sleep. So I rode down the road another few miles down to the gas station that Bubbles said would be open. Well, it was open, but it was also crowded, as it was the only place with power for miles. There were cars lined up for nearly a mile, purchasing gas to fill their cars and generators. I got in and purchased a drink and tried to charge my phone. No luck, there were no outlets that carried a charge in this emergency setup. So I sipped on my soda for a few hours and then took off to find a camping site. I noticed a little dirt road off the main road that led to a patch of woods. Unfortunately the words were covered in thorns and I couldn't seem to find an edge in. So I parked the bike and walked around looking for some loose trees. The lighted gas station was still off in the distance and I was somewhat worried that someone would notice my light and call the cops, so I kept the light as low as I could. The dim light made it tough to walk around and I somehow stumbled into a impromptu bog left by the hurricane. So it seemed like the whole area was a no go.

I took a side road off the dirt road, by this time, I've been walking around for about an hour an I was starting to get tired and impatient. I walked nearly smack into a small unlit house. It looked like it could be occupied, I've been trying to stay away from house visibility the entire time so as to avoid and confrontation. So that was wasn't going to work either. And on the other side was a house behind the gas station, with power, likely form the same generator, so I didn t have much to go with. Fortunately their was an expansive field between me and the gas station, so I traipsed through it, which had a few sparse trees, but in open visibility to the dirt road. At this point I realized that I wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight and I'd need to wake early. So I tied the hammock to two large limbs of the pine tree and climbed in. SNAP! The limb that I thought was the stronger of the two sheared right off at the trunk of the tree, and I fell to the ground. There were no other limbs easily accessible that would provide sufficient support for the hammock. So I tried to balance on the one limb, no luck, it sagged to the ground, but surprisingly held. So I swung a loop around a high limb on the tree, unfortunately, this made the hammock rub against the tree trunk. So I needed a counter balance to pull me off of it. I found some old posts and a few old window frames in the field, perhaps from an old house long since collapsed, and used it as a counterbalance, but it wasn't heavy enough. So I went and got my bike from where I left it, hoping to not pop in the burrs. I got it over without a scratch and leaned it against the rest of the improvised counterweight. It was just enough, and I mean JUST enough. I hung mostly off of the tree, as the counterbalance swayed to and fro, and I remained abo to 2 inches from the ground. It wasn't comfortable by a long shot, but it was enough to get some much needed sleep.

I woke early, 6:30ish, after tossing and turning all night. But oddly, I felt well rested. The warm sun kissed my face a chilly night and though I thought I sho sleep more, I decided against it for safe reasons. I packed up and was on the ro by 7. The place looked like a ghost town even the McDonalds was shut down, but cars were still lined up at the gas station as if the business kept operating all night. I set on the road and caught up with the bicentennial trail just about where the road I was on connected with the Interstate. This would be the first full day that I would be on the '76 and I was excited to see what was in store. Oddly enough, the road immediately started to turn east, back towards where I had come from, at first I was concerned that I may have gone the wrong way, but then I remembered that the road kinda makes a hairpin around Richmond, I was fully reassured about 20 minutes later when I started seeing "adopt a highway signs" with the local Mechanicsville cycling club as the sponsor. The road was beautiful, winding me around an old civil war route, chocked full with plenty of history. With that I went through Mechanicsville with what seemed like half the day. Passing by an historic Cold Harbor and Gaines Mill and veered to the north perimeter of the city. The looped back hairpin turn and outside loop did finally take me into the town at around 10:30, I was getting hungry so I stopped by a local CVS, which had just got their power back. I told them about my travels and their jaws dropped, as has been the case with most people who aren't endurance cyclists...they also called me crazy...as has also been the case with most people who aren't endurance cyclists. I stopped by and got some juice and trail mix, which I downed along with an energy bar. This would be the first day that I would seriously chow down on some energy bars. I got to wondering if I'd hit the point where my body started needing calories and couldn't just merely consume most of them from all of those fat reserves I had accumulated during my 5 year desk job. I also calculated that I was burning 4000 to 9000 calories per day.

So after a good 2 more hours on the '76, I hit up Ashland, Virginia. And I'll have to say, it was one of my favorite little towns on the trip. A two directional railroad bisected the town, with a small one way road that ran parallel to the railway all the way up until you got to main street. Running parallel to the roads we the small town shops. A portion of the road was brick and in the center of town, between the rails was a small rail station and platform. They kept that old timey feel. Further down was Randolph Macon University, a small school that lined the other end of downtown Ashland. I passed by and followed the road out to a....major highway? With no signs? There were always signs, especially at large intersections. Something wasn't right, so I headed back to downtown, almost all the was back to where the town began, there weren't any more signs showing a different direction. So rode back to the middle of town and asked a woman there. Turned out that she was also an avid cyclist and she and her husband had done a few tours in Europe. She also knew plenty about the routes in the area, which was a huge plus. Apparently, the college had just expanded and redid the intersection by the ball field, well they neglected to put up a turning sign for the bicycle route, and coincidentally, after a train passed, we were right across from the turn I needed to take. As a final warning, she said that the road would be a bit more "hilly" than was expected...too hilly for her, I was surprised since she had been to Europe, she said I'd probably be okay with it since I'd been riding a while.

So I went down he road, and it was hilly, but nothing really that bad, I was beginning to wonder if she was just overplaying the hillyness. But then came the steep downhill down to the river...and then shoop, a big scoop downhill to the bridge, and on the other side...an equally big scoop right back up. I'd been up and down the hills and mountains and I have to say, this was one of the steepest declines and inclines on the trip. Then I rode until about 3pm and passed by Thomas Payne's home, it was about midday rest time so I figured I'd go see it. The place had a phone tour which I thought was pretty cool, though I didn't take it. The area also had signs with descriptions of the area. The home was about the size of an average house, odd as this would have been considered a manor back in the 1800's. There was a woman tending the site. She said the house itself was closed, but that I could take the tour and stay a while. She also said that, with notice, cyclists are allowed to camp there for the night. After a bit of reading, I stopped by the picnic shelter and took a rest and let my phone charge. I got up about an hour and a half later and got back on the road. The '76 was hilly and windy, very windy. I was getting nowhere, and I had hoped to get to Charlottesville, or even Staunton by the end of day. But it was just too windy.

The road took me up to Lake Anna, where I discovered that there was a nuclear power plant. Moreover, the power plant also apparently was slightly damaged during the hurricane that struck by Mineral Virginia...not but 15 miles down the road. Glad there wasn't any damage, especially since I wouldn't have known about it. The '76 also took me to Mineral, Virginia -the epicenter of the earthquake. Their were multiple buildings where the front brick facades were cracked. Some of the weaker buildings were being held up by wooden braces as the buildings were being repaired. Mineral is also a very hilly town, with a few nice long, steep roads. It was a bit of a push, but enjoyable all the same.

At this point, it was nearly nightfall. So I called my Dad and coordinated a ride that we had talked about. We met up in Cuckoo, Virginia of all places. I was glad to be off the road after being on it for nearly 14 hours (with 12 hours of riding). I was looking forward to a nice restful sleep in an actual bed in an actual house.

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.