From Tybee to Tennessee--Yippee!

Scroll down to the previous blog for a description of the trip's start.

Day 1: Tybee to Collins, Georgia (@85 miles)
The coastal plains allow for a gentle start. The mid-to-high 80’s temperature makes me glad I did not wait any longer to start this part of the trip. A lot of truck traffic but considerate drivers: all move over into the other lane if they can or slow down until sure to pass safely. There is a good shoulder all the way so I move onto it easily when vehicles approach.

On previous trips through Georgia, I have often thought the planted pine forests would be a great place to sling a hammock. I look forward to sleeping in them tonight. About a half hour before sunset, I see a “Land For Sale” sign at the entrance to a dirt road. “This must be the place,” I think and walk my bike about a quarter mile down the road. To my left, the trees have been recently harvested, leaving stumps and brush; to my right, it looks like the trees were harvested 10 or more years ago but not replanted, leaving a mixture of varieties. I find a nice clearing but it’s between maples, not pine, that I sling my hammock. That’s okay. Bob whites and whippoorwills are calling; the first time I’ve heard them together since hiking in the Appalachians last summer. In the morning I will wake to an owl woo-wooing up his last course.

Day 2: Collins to Hawkinsville (@85 miles)
Still pretty hot. Some gradual sloping and a few hills. I have my first stretch of country road. It is mostly wooded but I pass a home with expansive, mowed lawn, rich green now, and sparkling pond. I drift by in admiration. Quiet, peaceful. Snarling, barking dogs rush out at me. I yell at them. Adrenalin pumps my pedals. A check on overly romanticizing these country scenes.

A similar check would come the next day on another remote road, roughly paved. Here I would see deer for the first time. Thick woods and quiet. A fifteen-foot, chain-link fence and “Posted and Patrolled: No Trespassing” signs suddenly emerge like the snarling dogs. But the fence goes on for miles, a jeep trail along its inside perimeter. My map gives no clue of what’s hidden within. I think of Nietzsche’s old man emerging from the forest there and rasping his pronouncement. But on the inside of the fence. I roll on.

I refill my water bottles at fast-food places, more likely to be found in small towns than family diners. If the place doesn’t have a water tap in the midst of those for soda, I go to a Dollar Store or grocery store to get a gallon of water for a dollar: after filling my bottles, I splash the remainder over my head. In evenings, I try to assure having enough water to allow for a sponge bath if I will not be near a water source.

Tonight, I have my ideal camp in a pine woods. I enjoy the needles under my bare feet as I sling my hammock. Bob Whites & Whippoorwills make night welcome here as well.

Day 3: Hawkinsville to Manchester (@110 miles)
I am tired and its near sunset but I have just gotten through to the western side of Manchester and there’s a hill to climb. I see a couple cars parked in front of a church and on an impulse ride into the lot to look at the back yard: ah, well mowed, spacious, and hidden from the road. Grade school children are peering out at me from the glass doors. They run when they see me walk towards them after parking my bike. I open the door and call out “Hello”; the youth group leaders appear, young women with friendly smiles. I ask if I can sleep in back of the church. They aren’t sure. They’ll need to call the pastor, who, they tell me, has just gotten back from Israel.

He’ll come to check me out. His house being just down the road, he is soon there. He emerges from his car with somber if not sour face. I greet him with “Shalom!” and throw out a line to make the common bond of visiting Israel. That line drops to the ground. I’m asked what I’m doing; my answer does not impress.

“Do you have some I.D.?”
I first show him my MTSU I.D.: teacher meeting preacher. Nice, eh? Nope. I show him my driver’s license.
He studies it and asks “What kind of name is Shallum?”, accenting the first syllable.
“Oh, no. Sorry. I said ‘Shalom!’, thinking of your recent trip to Israel.”
“Oh,” he replies, softening a bit, “I didn’t catch that… Well, I guess you can stay there. We’ve had some bad experiences in the past with people messing up the property.”
Assuring him that I would not leave a spot, I went down and made my bed. He went into the church. Before leaving, a half-hour or so later, he called out with kindly voice, “You settled in okay, Tim?”
“Yes, sir. Thank-you!”
“Good night, then.”

Day 4: Manchester to John Tanner State Park (@ 80 miles)
I started out before sunrise, hitching a blinking red light to the back of my waist: my baggage would hide the light if I attached it to the seat. The coastal plains are behind me. Rolling hills now.

The afternoon had dark skies and strong winds but I got only a few drops of rain. A few miles before the State Park, there was a laundry. So I was delighted to be able to fully wash my clothes and follow that with a hot shower at the park. What luxury!

Day 5: John Tanner State Park to Geraldine, ALABAMA (@90 miles
Now, a taste of the Appalachians. Just a taste, but, dang, there were some steep climbs. Through beautiful country of course.

I rode a mile or two on the Chief Ladiga Trail, which with the Silver Comet Trail, forms a 100-mile bike trail from Atlanta into Alabama. At a Visitor’s Center along the trail, a woman greets me as I park my bike. She and her friend are biking for the day and ask where I am coming from. “Not Savannah, Savannah!” she exclaims. She is the first person I’ve met along the away to respond with enthusiasm to my travels: “Are you blogging about your trip?” I tell her, no, though I’ve thought about it. “You should! Get one of your children to help you set it up!” I tell her I might do that. “How old are you?” she asks. It takes me a few seconds to do the calculation—I’ve been pedaling hard, after all—but come out with the answer. “You look older than that. Well, shave and you won’t look so old.” Another piece of good advice. She wants to contribute to my trip so gives me a pack of gum and an energy bar.

I felt pretty beat by the end of the day. And, for the first time on this trip, chilly. There was a pretty good wind as I set up camp. I kept the hammock low and tied the rain fly close down and secure. But the rain held off.

Day 6: Geraldine to the Tennessee border (@60 miles)
I took it easy today, feeling pretty tired and considering more carefully as I rode the importance of pacing myself: either having shorter days or taking a day of rest at least once a week. I decided to make good on this by having tomorrow be a rest day—and to make the rest especially sweet by taking it at home. I called Ruka to see what she thought. She had the day off and met me just a couple miles after I had crossed over the border into Tennessee, in the late afternoon.

Day 7: AL-TN border to Murfreesboro (@75 miles)
I ended up having two rest days before Marlo and Tina got up at 5AM and took me to the border. It was nice to bike carrying only one light bag—and over easy terrain. I missed the road out of Tullahoma to Manchester but it was fine going along the Duck River, which I’ve canoed several times with my kids, to Shelbyville then up to Murfreesboro.

The next day I took my bike in for a tune-up and cleaning of the chain and gears. I plan to enjoy the comforts of home for about a week then continue on the way. During this time, I will plan my routes to the other coast.