Athens

Currently couchsurfing, with an excellent host by the name of Catherine.

I will add more later, but just for a thought; space- in particular land. In America you could buy a house with 3 floors for maybe $150,000. The equivalent in England would be in the region of $900,000. Which is why this happens in the centre (center ;) of towns...

Also, I just found out it's about 55 degrees at Skern. Glad I'm boiling!

I have spent today adding some photos I had wanted to put in earlier, check out a couple of older posts.

Life in the Saddle

I feel I should fill you in on the grittier side of this tour.

1. Sweaty: every place you go to, you are sweaty. Lovely. 3 days is the longest I've been without shower + change of T-shirt. I doubt that will be the record by the time I'm done.
2. Farting: is not easy on the bike. You have to lean forward out of the saddle, upsetting balance.
3. Hills: zooming is great fun, the straps of my camel pak slapping against my nipples is not. Chaffage!
4. Butt'r: before going out, I need suncream, and Butt'r. Butt'r is for your ass, to ease the ache on the cheeks. Applying all this pre-cycle takes around 15mins and is a pain.
5. Shoes: I have one pair and the moment I step out of them, they are an embarassment of the nose.

These are things you should be aware of before touring.

Change of Plans

I should probably tell y'all that plans have changed slightly. I'm no longer heading for Nashville, Tennessee. I believe I could make it on time, but it would leave me no time to visit Rob, and old school friend who has been living Stateside for some years.
Rather than the slightly arbitrary destination of Nashville, Huntersville, North Carolina, is now the destination before I head East and South again.I may pass through some of Tennessee. I certain hope too, if it isn't too much of a detour. We will see...

The famous red clay of Georgia

Spirit Pond

My motel may have looked good, but it had fleas and at least one tick. So I spent the night in my sleeping bag again.

So I sat in Donnie's office trying to blog all the stuff that had occurred and chatting to folk. Next I pedalled to Sandersville, where Susan worked and lived. She had lunch and Liz, a local reporter, waiting for me. Apparently it was an interview but didn't feel like I had imagined it would, and after a bit of fun chatting about this and that Stacer walked in. He, like Susan, had grown up locally and he offered to show me round and take me fishing down at Spirit Pond.
After a short ride down Georgia's bumpy red clay tracks we jump out. This was Stacer's place. He had hunted through these woods for miles around since he was a boy, and he taught me how to fish with simple equipment- none of the bags and boxes and floats etc. After a few false starts and a couple of beers i was catching Shiners to be used as bait for the Bass.
Stacer realised that I had never shot a gun before (air rifles don't count) so he gave me a few shots with the rifle he was carrying. An easy coach to follow and I started to get the hang of it. None of the Bass bit however, so we hauled a barrel of the smaller catch back to the Lodge where Stacer prepared and cooked chips and Southern fried fish. Damn good! Further company joined for dinner and a few beers. This was part of the America I had been seeking.



Not the lodge- just a decent photo of the old barn

I slept at the lodge and we rose before 7 to see if we could get out and hear the turkey's gobblin' at dawn.

As usual i have loads of photos i wish to upload, but its hard in library computers,
so i cherry picked this one in particular.

Stacer is a spiritual man, I'm sure ghe won't mind my saying, and he has put a lot of work into the land he owns and manages. Nature is a gift to him and he told of a tornado that had ripped through the valley, and had torn down an old Cedar. He and some friends had built a cross from the old tree and stood it on the dam, where it could be seen right up the valley. This wasn't just religious symbolism but a fitting symbol of the tree he may even have called an old friend.

I will always believe that stereotypes are based on some truth, but they are only skin deep. They don't get involved beyond image, and don't see the care, commitment and intelligence behind others way of life. I guess I always knew that but it means more to have it shown to you for real. As Stacer said, you have to live life and take an interest in it.

I left Sandersville and being a little behind time, Susan dropped me the other side of Sparta. Since then the going has been a steay climb.

An Eventful Day

I'll pick up on the journey from Soperton to Wrightsville. Please excuse the haphazard way I have of jumping around events, seemingly without a care for chronological order.

Not as bad as it looks mum!
Neat though

The last two library stops have brought issues upon departure. Hazlehurst I took a wrong turn, although corrected myself after a mile or so. Soperton- whilst tightening the front brake from astride the bike, it fell over, and unprepared I didn't catch it. See photographic result...





Pedalling through Adrian I noticed a sign for a church that read:

Two things are certain

Death and Taxes

ARE YOU PREPARED?

(Having now met a taxman, and dined at an all you can eat Pizza buffet I can answer yes to both, although that story comes later)

I chuckled at the sign and then a thought struck me. It was false. Nothing is certain, not even death. I can't make a claim like this without backing it up so...

Enter Hume's Induction

Hume argues that there is no empirical evidence to suggest that the Uniformity of Nature and thelaws of physics will continue to hold. We just assume that they will. Take his example of the swans.

All swans were (in the 17th century) assumed to be white.

If we write this premise as a logical puzzle we get:

a) All swans are white

b) Any bird that is not white will not be a swan

But this was before the discovery of Black swans. You see, we work with the information we have. Predictions don't necessarily hold true.

Lets do this for death:

a) no human has lived an infinite number of years

b) humans have a finite lifespan or to be human you must die

So you see, two problems. Either you must die, or you must say that death is not certain because there are humans alive today that have not died. Just like there are black swans.

Full of how clever I could be, it wasn't until a couple of miles later that I realised I had missed an underlying message. Death and taxes are two of societies hardships. Here was a church for its community, offering support to those in grief + finanical turmoil. Proactive and helpful- two things I value regardless of origin.

PEDAL!

As I thought all this, clouds gathered behind me, and I felt a few raindrops. It felt stormy. Having read Josie Dew I knew that I may have to let air out of my tires. I put my head down and outran the weather.

I checked in to the Deluxe Inn for $35. Seemed pleasant enough and once showered I headed across town on foot.

On the way to the $5.49 pizza buffet I crossed the road. In the distance a car honked. By the time I was comfortably on the sidewalk, it was still at least 20 yards away and slowing. The whole garage forecourt pointed at me and gossiped. In England Jaywalking (not that I was here) doesn't exist. We judge a safe distance as whether the approaching vehicle will have time to avoid you if you trip whilst running to the pavement. This little incident really brought this aspect of America into focus for me.

My dump- later to have tent erected and drying, and homemade washing line installed

So I make the most of the buffet, and drink Pibb's (I thought American Dad made that up!), and also root beer, which kinda tasted like the smell of the onitment I used on my leg earlier.
Having spoken briefly with the owner, and grabbed a salad to assuage guilt over my gluttony, a table of people hailed me and invited me to sit with them. They were Donnie, Katie, Susan and Caroline.
I told them of my journey and how I had cleaned the motel shower head with coke. Coke is good for that sort of thing. Paddlers drink flat oke before going on a river. Not much will survive a tummy full of coke, whatever you end up swallowing.
Anyhow, these guys were so friendly we chatted away for some time.

It's not the cycling that gets you meeting people, although it's a means, but taking time to greet folk is important. They asked if America had treated me well, and Georgia certainly has thus far. Every friendly wave from passing motorists and considerate trucks helped on the hills i've toiled up. Either way, Donnie, Katie, Susan and Caroline seemed determined to make up as if the rest of America had been lagging behind in the hospitality stakes.

They asked me (as others have) of the bravery it takes to do something like this. I freely admit that the first two days were terrifying parts, but I'm settling into it now. Katie and Susan have adopted me, at least for the next 24 hours, and are becoming American mothers!
I guess bravery is a perspective. If you are comfortable with something, you don't feel brave about it. For others looking in, it's a different perspective. The best way I ca explain is by showing you an example. I don't do karaoke, but Caroline here can sing in front of a crowd. That to me is bravery. Take a look...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RtsNfnPoL-o

A great voice and a neat example, thank you Caroline.
I might just have met a future Country Queen or Blues Princess! Caroline; if you have a goal, and you plan and work hard for it you will get a shot. It may turn out in a different manner to the way you imagined it but as long as you enjoy what you do it's worthwhile!
Older people love to hand out advice! Joe Bennett once wrote something like:
'advice is like a refugee. Everyone wants to pass it on, but no one wants to take it'.
If you find yourself gazing into space on a break at work, or bored on a schoolbus, grab one of Joe's books and give it a go. The two I know of are 'Fun Run and other Oxymorons' and 'Bedside Lovers and other Goats'.  

The Wind, the Hills

Logging in Georgia is big business

So I've spent some time musing and filling this blog with thoughts that bloom as I pedal alone through this land. Now for some facts.

Look- those trees have laid some boxes!

The wind has been a constant light Northerly, a headwind, that picks up around midday. Makes me hope taht the way back will be a breeze, so to speak, with a tailwind. Trouble is I'll then be near the coast and I doubt it will be that simple! At least northerlies are dry!

Since leaving Waycross, the hills have become frequent and larger. I suspect this trend will continue as I head further north. It's a good thing at the moment as my average speed is faster because of the speed I pick up coasting down the hills. And they remove the monotony of a flat day. It really is rolling countryside. I have managed just over 50 miles each day, except Sunday, where i did 70 miles.

I thought I saw something in the woods on my way to Wrightsville, as I looked harder I managed to run myself off the road (fortunately at low speed) and survived the bumpy excursion down a small bank!
I am writing this from the office of Donnie Sweat, an accountant. I will tell you how this remarkable turn of events came about in my next post.

Every town round here has a water tower
see one of these and you know you are close

Soperton

I constantly wonder how to introduce myself to people when asking to camp in a spot. How do you enter into someone's life- a foreigner and a passer-through. They look at you throughdifferent eyes. Will they understand or make the same judgements of your purpose as you do?
I spent the night in Long Pond, and faced a dilemma. Camp next to the wood, and worry about animals but out of sight of people, or camp away from the woods in full view of the community. I opted for the latter and was largely ignored although one couple went to the store and bought me loads of food. I had breakfast as well as dinner on their gifts.
A few people have told me that I am in the wrong job, that I have an ability to empathise with people. I agree, but still love much work at Skern. I do try and think about the way others look at the world.

My speedometer went wrong today. It wouldn't measure my speed, and the clock jumped forward an hour. I only worked out that these were two separate simple issues, and not the speedometer just breaking down, because of a conversation with a friend. We had been chatting about a fear of hers, which only occurs occasionally, and seemed to be of water. She mentioned two incidents that highlighted her anxiety. I thought the incidents should be separated and then the fear was of a new root cause, or causes, not of the water in which she can sometimes quite happily swim, and others feel uncomfortable. So I fixed both speedo problems, and everything is running smoothly again.
The point? Listen to what you say as much as you would like others to hear you. Which brings me back to how I present myself and my tour.

• Intrepid, frontier explorer
• Searching for fulfillment
• Feeling at odds with the land i call home at the moment
• Trying something new
• Just doing what the crazy English do
• Having a bit of fun

Maybe I don't have anything to do with presenting myself. You will pick one of the above based on what you know of me, or what you think of my idea. i read the subtitle to Robert Pirsig's 'Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenence'. It reads 'an enquiry into values'. Maybe he has put me in this contemplative mood, so maybe he will have answers. Soon, I hope, as it's almost too dark to read.

I spent a while writing all this last night and have been on this computer uploading, and trying to sort out couchsurfing, for too long now. The librarian may be able to help with photos so I'll give it a bash in a mo. Check out previous posts every now and then as they will have photos added at some point! Oh- I'm in Soperton. Its quiet and beautiful, but everything has been today. Maybe it's just tuesdays? I'm turning 50 miles a day easily, although I suspect my little computer was lying to me a bit.

The day started out cold, and my back is sore and stiff. Must have slept funny. As i get going early the roads are cool in the shade but heat up in the sun. Constant adjusting of the jacket/no jacket style is slowing me down. That said, i hit 35 mph coasting down one hill. On a fully loaded bike at that speed, one small bump is enough to enduce a heart-in-mouth speed wobble! It's the touring equivalent of hitting a ton in your car.

Hazlehurst, despite its pretty name, seems to be an industrial town. I have to wait around for 15mins before the library opens. Georgia's (and maybe all America's) libraries seem to be well equiped and people take pride in them. They, like the churches, are always neat, clean and well kept. Contrast this with the state of the Libraries in England, that appear to be falling into disuse. Public Libraries are one of the single greatest social advances in modern times.

By the doorway was a wonderful saying from Socrates, which amazed me because it was secular. It read:

If I could get to the highest place in Athens, I would lift up my voice and say

"What mean ye fellow citizens that ye turn every stone to scrape wealth together

and take so little care of your children to whom you must relinquish all?"



You could substitute the word 'children' here for many other words. Planet perhaps, but this veers towards the political. No doubt Socrate's intention, but I leave it for you to interpret.  

The Flower Graveyard

In Waycross I popped into the Library and asked to use the 'Internet'
The librarian looked at me puzzled, so I tried again "Sorry, the innernet"
"Ah you wana use innernet"
"Yup"

I didn't fancy a wild camp this close to the Okefenokee wildlife reserve, which to me read 'Bears n Gators- Beware!' And with the stories the trainspotters had told me...well, I needed a safe haven.
At four I was kicked out of the library but not before asking for a campsite. the Laura S Walker state park office closed in 45mins. I had to pedal hard. I made it 20mins late but the ranger was friendly and gave me a spot.

It was a good nights rest. Sunday AM i rose late, breakfasted and said goodbye to those around me, who were also gouing their separate ways. One group on a canoe trip down gator infested waterways. "Have you done this much before" I asked
"Nope, second time in a canoe" came the reply from the retired gent. Amazing! They had a brief argument over maps, Nancy was told to "Get the hell outta here" and she shrugged at me, saying it must be nice to travel alone. I wasn't so sur eabout it but smiled.

General Coffee state park was reachable, but out of my way. I had already decided that a detour towards Alabama was out of the question. Dan will be disappointed. So I knew a wild camp was what lay ahead. Now to put some ditance between myself and the animals. I reached Hoboken easily and passed straight through towards Blackshear, which appeared peaceful so I stopped for a McDonald's, my first in America. It tasted the same.
Ronald McDonald then... clowns are essentially jesters in makeup, but Stephen King and Hollywood have gone a long way to make them scary. So the plastic statue of Ronald sat on the bench in the kids play area just looked like a malevolent child snatcher. I checked to see if it's eyes followed me about.

Why they have trucks: plenty of roads are dust tracks
Fortunatly, not the ones I use!

The tree lined highways quickly changed to large meadows and ploughed land, and it was boiling. I disturbed a sunbathing snake who looked as puzzled by me as I was by it. It was Black and glistened in the sunlight. I debated stopping to take a pic, but decided discretion was better. I regretted not having a photo for the next 5 miles. I reached the attractively named Alma, and after a brief rest carried straight on, I had more in the tank, but knew that soon I would need to find a place to rest. I stooped for dinner by the highway, and wondered where on Earth i was going to camp. I was starting to worry about this, not wanting to camp by a highway and attract the wrong attention. A woman pulled up, asking if I was okay. She recommended camping by a church. "those folks are always friendly" I thanked here and debated whether to push on or go back 3 miles to the church. I don't like going backwards, it grates with me, but it was sensible in the fading light. I turned in to a little community called New Hope. I laughed to myself as I imagined the Pastor preaching 'the Lord will provide'. I would make a case in point for that sermon.

New Hope

Passing a couple out for a stroll I asked if they knew the Pastor. They didn't but spoke to someone else, and as the Pastor was out, I had waited until sundown before pitching. Just as I finished Brandon came over and introduced himself. He asked if I needed anything and I came back to his place for water. I met his little baby son River, and his wife Hailey. Brandon and Hailey asked if I would like anything to eat, having already eaten I declined but their offer was still greatly appreciated. They offered their lawn as a place to camp (for those in England, this lawn was tens of square metres), if anyone came along and bothered me about pitching where I had. I felt  a pang of guilt at the efforts they had put in.



Dawn- time to move on



These people offered so much, and i had a word with myself upon leaving New Hope. I give myself a hard time when it comes to accepting help. There is a system that works between my conscious and subconscious that tells me all things should equal out. As there would be no way for me to repay their kindness, how can I accept it? I'm not wallowing in self-pity here- i'm trying to change. Next time I will eat by the church, and accept favours when offered. Good people don't count favours. The silly thing is I know I don't, except when they are offered to me.

Maybe next time I will be turned away, or ignored by folk. Or maybe not. The generousity Brandon, Hailey and River had shown me stayed with me the next few days. Things like that make whatever we are trying to do easier.

I had camped by the cemetery, and the Flower Graveyard, where the dead or dying flowers are left. Hollywood tells us that if a hand shoots out the ground we should run from the zombies! In reality, they probably need your help! I don't mind camping by graveyards- they are places of old stories that have hopefully been passed down generations. Not spooky really!



An 'arty' shot of the bike