Photos that didn't make the cut originally

I honestly thought for a while this was a redneck watching me and about to ward me off their land. It was day 3. And a statue, so I had no need to wonder what craziness lay in store.

Military monument, US style

Creating art takes several shots, for me at least. the final one did make a blogpost

A night pitched by Amityville. No worries!

Lifesaver systems water bottle allowed me to drink from this sort of source.

Yeah i used the shower to wash clothes!

Southern fried fish, caught by us

A beautiful shot ruined by me!

Typical library stop. I would then take all luggage off and haul it inside for safekeeping which was invariably a pain

Daunting run into downtown Athens. Bear in mind I know no-one, and don't have a detailed map

College stadium. 3 tiers tall!



Dead bug. Length of my fist! (That's not common in England)



More of Lake Hartwell

Best. Roadnaming. Ever. Or a crap disguise as to the current location of the 80's supergroup

No the grass isn't purple. I forgot to change the mode on my camera

I wanted an ice-cream! despite the 'Open' signs, it bloody wasn't.

Rich man's world. That's a garage with a lawn and view. The house was suitably large but I didn't want a privacy courtcase following me.

Some folk take pride over their letterboxes

More friendly folk. I asked for directions, they were staggered at my pace on a bicycle. :)

The shot from Rob's balcony. And not a good one either.

Early morning mist over the lake



The route into Charleston

Leaving Bowman was easy enough, and I knew I had only a short way to pedal. I wasn't due in Charleston until Saturday so I had 70 miloes to split over two days pedaling. My destination was Givhans Ferry State park. I stopped in St George 'The town of friendly people' and blogged a little, as you have found out. From here I pedaled for Givhans. Following the signposts proved a bad idea. Although they suggested a shorter route, analysis of my cycle computer (still alive at this point) would suggest otherwise. And the wind picked up pulling 5mph from my top speed. This last 20 miles was to prove arduous.

When i arrived at the State park the first person i saw greeted me with a beaming smile and announced that he was the groom. Not the wedding i was aiming for, but hey! I shook his hand and offered congratulations. I was glad to see that he was nervous for all the right reasons. You could tell by the bounce in his every step that he was on top of the world.
He pointed me to the park office, and the park ranger was the architypal American ranger- a big friendly guy with a stridant voice and easy attitude.
I pedaled off to settle for the night, drawing stares from children on beach cruisers as to my laden touring cycle.

Morning arrived and the packing was leisurely. Aching and stretching has become a longer process this last week, but I felt as rested as I could be. I hoped the roads ahead would prove better as I wasn't retracing my steps back along 11miles of jolting gravelly asphalt.
My luck was in and the final part of state route 61 was being re-tarmaced and was smooth in most places. During the 1 1/2 mile long single lane controlled traffic flow, my chain decided to pop off, leaving me to fix the thing asap and wonder if I would make the end of the roadworks before traffic started flowing back toward me. I did, just.

The next 20 miles to the edge of Charleston were gloriously hot, calm and easy cycling. Here I knew would be the last leg of my journey. When you take a challenge such as this you can't help but dream of the finish. I had thought about cycling straight to the beach. My mind had me pedaling up to a group of my friends all playing frisbee, and dropping the bike to rest on the beach. Imagination rarely takes consideration of fact. I knew this wasn't a possibility, and that the roads from Charleston were all dual carriageway, busy and flat. Scenery that could be missed without regret. Coupled with this I had taken a look at the weather forecast. I would be between Charleston and Savannah when the thunderstorms hit, and had no idea how long they would last. Tornado warnings had also been issued.
You can understand now why I had decided that I would take a car from Charleston, via Savannah and a last couchsurf, to Jacksonville.

It's easy to get a challenge into your head and stick with it. I wondered whether I would feel bad at not cycling the last route. I remember the popular book (and less popular film) 'Yes man'. It's about a guy unhappy with life to decides to say Yes to whatever comes along. It certainly opened his eyes. Then I thought about the process of saying YES. To him it was a change from negative to positive. It implies implicitly and grammatically that to say No is to be negative. Not true. To say No to going out is also to say Yes to staying on the couch, happily watching a film and having a lazy day. My point...if this is what YOU want to be doing, then it is alright. I wanted to say No to riding the last stretch because there was nothing to gain from it. I was happy with everything I had done.

Then I smashed the cycle computer, and we get to the post 'Broken and Elated'.

The slightly disjointed narrative serves as an example of my mindset at the time. I knew before breaking it that I was finished, so why so upset? Had it marred the ending, the wide smile had been wiped from my face as I walked through downtown Charleston. I was both happy with my positive decision and distraught at my idiocy. I hadn't needed to remove the thing in the first place. The damage was totally avoidable.

And here I met Caitlin, Will, Emily, Jordan, Kat and later Nicole, Drew, Brandon et al. I have always enjoyed conversing, and along the trip I had ignored natural human judgement of anybody, preferring simply to listen and talk and meet people regardless of who they may be. So a bunch of strangers with an old surfboard became the people who ensured my finish was triumphant. The tour was about meeting American's and learning a new culture. In truth I did little more than say Hi. They met me rather than the other way around. Without even realising it (although I have since told them) these people hauled my tired mood away from the doldrums and set wind back in my sails. They epitomised my journey and reminded me of the goal closest to my heart- not the cycling but the experience. The broken parts no longer mattered.

We cracked beers, and having invited me to leave my bike in the house, have a shower and join them at the bar the evening progressed...towards a new, separate post!

Not forgotten

I have much to write, and have met a great many people in the last few days of my tour. I will get a post organised shortly, but for now am adding a few long overdue photos to previous posts. Also I'm pondering the final destination of my writings, and at how to adequately summarise the cycling. As well as how to follow the last post...you get the picture!

Broken and elated

I arrived in Charleston via a beautiful route. I don't honestly have the inclination to blog much just now. I'm still soaking up the atmosphere provided seemingly effortlessly by a group of people who strike me as...actually I still don't have the words to do their hospitality justice.

I wanted to blog this bit now though because it seems an important step. I smashed the cycle computer on the way in to the city. it was a straw, but it felt like the camel's back had broken. It had been a week in the making. I will have to disseminate further on how I have arrived at my current state of mind, but to fully understand myself I will need to wait until the tour arrives back in Jacksonville. The week has been tough. I know with no doubt that I am strong enough to make it all the way back to jax, but I have decided to finish here.

The final cycle was so calm and I knew without a plan that it would be the last leg. It was a slow realization, over say twenty miles. And I smiled and enjoyed every second. It felt absolutely right.
I will still visit Savannah, but I will do the last bit by car. The cycling is done. Having seen the weather and the map, there is nothing but a bitter end to be gained by cycling this last part, so I was happy to roll in to charleston and finish. Then I broke the cycle computer.
It destroyed my mood almost completely. The only reason I kept walking was to walk away from it's remains in the road.
You will see what happened next as you will. Some could say fate, or prayer. Some will recognize phlarris in the next few moments. I stopped by a surfboard, with a gathering of folks outside a house all chatting. For me , the surfboard took my mind away from what had happened. It was being repaired. Soon, we weren't even talking about surfing and I had a beer. These folk have put me up for the last three days, and have been more normal with this than you may imagine. I know I would do the same given the opportunity, but to just bump into them like that. As I said, make of it what you will.

There is yet cycling left, as the wedding will require some I believe. The tour isn't truly finished, but one aspect has drawn to the greatest conclusion I didn't hope for. Imagination spoke of scenes of joy. In the end the simple act of friendship to a stranger is far more fitting.
And this blog...this too will reach a natural conclusion but it is not just yet. I expect that I will be writing even after my return to England. Because although unsearched for, I am hoping that this experience has effects that last longer than my visa. I didn't seek to change out here, but to grow, and to measure that, I will need to be back in a familiar environment. And I'm enjoying blogging too much at the moment. I think I will be more sad at the final post here than at leaving the bike behind.

Friendly towns and the town of friendly people

I waited out the downpour before leaving Orangeburg. It was an easy 16 miles to Bowman. Almost as soon as i left town the landscape flattened out. I was closing on the coast for sure, and it felt good. As i pedaled I was on the lookout for a place to make camp. I would spot a place and mark the mileage on the speedometer. If I didn't find anything better before hitting town I would grab something to eat and then pedal back to the spot.

But Bowman S.C, just as Bowman G.A some 350miles Northwest, had a city park. Clean and welcoming with restrooms and bandstands. I rejoiced in this good fortune as much of my kit was damp or sodden. I wasted no time in setting my pan for food and stringing up my kit to dry for a couple of hours. It was a wet day, who would mind me doing this? Nobody as it turns out. I was almost uninterrupted. If I ever meet a girl with the surname Bowman, or go to work for Bowman Inc. i will know that I am on to a winner!

Dawn and some sun crept through. The tent was pretty much dry and I had used one of those handwarmer heat pockets to dry the inside of my sleeping bag overnight. It worked a treat!
So I set off for the town of St George. The chain squeaked and I should re-oil after the rain. It'll wait until I stop again. the road is flat and now I average 20mph. Up by over 20% on my average speed at the start of this tour, despite the cold, tired muscles.
I have never considered myself an Athlete. Athletic- yes, but not an Athlete in the sense that I see myself dedicating any length of time to becoming faster or stronger. Which is a false appreciation because in all sports I play, I try to keep improving.
i think it's the term that needs debunking. The term Athlete is heard most often on the TV, applied to persons aiming for a pinnacle of sporting success, and if it's on TV it's in the public eye. It gives rise to the idea that to be an athlete you must aspire to compete at the highest level. Which puts goals out of reach for us.

As I said when I had just set off, goal-setting was important but to focus solely on the imagined end is counter-productive. Often this end seems unattainable, unreachable, and we risk devaluing the path and subsequently any success we do have. Or alienating people from trying to achieve altogether.
I can see the finish line now but to rush toward it without pausing would be to miss the beauty on the way. Namely Charlston and Savannah.

I will share a story of an athlete i met, with whom we might all relate better, than to the national idols we watch on TV. I met the South African Paraolympic 100m sprint champion in a dirty kebab house in Central Manchester one night in 2007. He was drunk and making an amusing pass at my friend. Technically he was the 100m record holder but he wasn't allowed to compete, despite applying, in the Olympics as his artifical legs were classed as a technological advantage. Or something to that effect.
So here, throwing back a lager and dropping sweaty kebab meat all over himself, was a different way to achieve success. I'm not urging promising sprinters to chop off legs, but trying to show how becoming an athlete does not have to follow a singular path, and is closer to everyday reality than you may think.
I can already hear myself telling young athletes that the key to success is not whether you win or lose the Sophomore year long-jump final, but that enjoying it enough to not lose faith in sport is far more important.

I bumped my numb butt into St George past a sign that read 'St George- town of friendly people'. It was accurate too.