The House of Fur and Friendship

The wind stayed strong enough to knock down a large branch on to a truck across the street from us, and a palm branch fell brushing my shoulder on the way down. We spent the evening enjoying well-recommended pizza by Jordan, and hoped that surfing was the order of the morning. I awoke to the sounds of all hell breaking loose as the predicted storms were unleashed. Lightning ripped up the sky and the wind and rain were immense. Glad not to be camping, I snuggled deeper into the blankets shared by myself and on occasion, Ben the dog.

Surf was out of the question in the morning, and although Jordan made it out later in the day, I had to pick up the rental car at midday. Caitlin kindly drove me out to get it. We relaxed until four and then I needed to be heading for Savannah. I asked to surf a couch there and Tess had said yes. It was a final opportunity to see some more folk of a different city. It was a tough farewell to Charleston as I wished Cait, Kat and Jordan all the best. I realised too late  that I had no photos of Cait, Jordan, Kat et al, a mistake i didn't make again.

I set out, back over the bridge that had previously nearly guided me into the outside of 3 lanes of traffic on a bike, and headed for Savannah. It was a pleasant 90 minute drive as the sun set and the evening’s calm had me relaxed and listening to Spanish radio. I couldn’t understand a word but the music was good. Driving wasn’t new, as I had the Minivan at the start of the tour, but I spent little time ‘cruising’ and all my journeys had been short. This was nice, America from the perspective of a car. My butt had been so used to cycling that it was numb after 45mins sitting still in a car.

I arrived in Savannah and found Tess’s house on memory. I hadn’t been there before, but I had memorized the map from Caitlin and Jordan’s Ipad earlier that day. It’s a tactic I frequently use, usually to good effect but sometimes it goes awry!

Chad

Tess was expecting me to arrive by bicycle but either way I had made it and she welcomed me in. Chad immediately put a beer in my hand, and along with their two housemates, two dogs and two cats, there were also another 3 couchsurfers staying- a big happy traveling family! Introductions were swift and simple and we launched into tales of travels and what we were up to. Jordan (another of the same name) and Ariel were traveling South together, hitchhiking from Wisconsin and their journey had been remarkably simple thus far. Javier was from Argentina and had worked for 3 months on exchange in a Ski resort in Massachussetts, and was now heading for Gainsville. The travels for these guys were still fresh whereas mine were almost at an end.

Performing a little surgery on Tess

 Having decided to get more beer as we would need it, we popped to the local Piggly Wiggly and Tess managed to put an inch long splinter in her hand, and it wouldn’t budge. Not a problem, I remove my splinters with my knife all the time and offered to do the same for her, not seriously expecting her to accept. Who would let a relative stranger attack with a blade! But we were at ease now, having swopped back-stories. Mine involves a process built over the previous year, starting out of a rough few months at the end of a relationship, but ultimately granting the time to wander and end at her house. Hers and those of Kim echoed these sentiments. So I sterilized the knife and went to work. After maybe 10mins the splinter was free, the cut clean and the pain minimal. Smiles and a game of Poop Smoothie resumed. It’s basically charades with crazy-ass rules!

Jordan, Ariel and dogs Eugene and Toro

 Then came the indentured slaves debate. Actually the content went out the window quickly, and the form of the debate became the fixture. When the slaves in America (and I would assume the same for Britain, but our history at school does not cover this unsavory time very well) were freed, they were offered the option of remaining with their former owners and working for payment: Often meagre and conditions would invariably be poor.

The choice was: freedom released into a land where they were outcasts with no skills beyond those learned in bondage, and a culture that looked upon them as third class citizens, or stay and work under their former owners. The debate ran thus…on one side, they have the choice of freedom, on the other side, this wasn’t a true choice. The freedom to die is no true freedom.

The problem was, both sides are correct. From a rational point of view, sure there is a choice. Freedom (on paper) is an option. On the Humanist side, this is not an option. The life outside indenture was essentially a death sentence.

The debate heated and became an argument. I stayed out, as did a quiet Javier sat on my right. It was drunken and shortly the mission was simply to prove that you were right. It reminds me of British parliamentary debate. The aim being to show your opponent a fool, rather than to debate over real issues.

So I felt the need to interject and point out that the argument was being fought on separate and distinct battlefields. On the one side, rationality is being defended and on the other, the argument is humanist. These two schools of thought often become irreconcilable in this way.

Javier and Chris.

 

The mood calmed and the night passed on peacefully and when the time came we all slept in various places around the house in good company.

The following morning, I headed for Jacksonville, joined by Jordan, Ariel and Javier. I had plenty of room in the car and we were all heading the same way. I wasn’t completing the last leg on a bike, but for these guys, that was a great bonus. Things tend to unfold neatly especially when you stay positive and we had to be some of the most positive folk, all traveling with fortune and fate, wondering what lay around the next corner.