I woke up on time, but dawdled longer than I had originally intended. I felt kind of weird just leaving without saying bye, but eventually I realized that a thank-you note would just have to do. I was excited to be following an official signed bike route for the first time since North Carolina.
I had to stop soon after I started in the next town I got to, as the bottom cog on the tensioner was stealing an estimated 20% of my energy now. I cleaned the whole chain and each of the two cogs and re-lubed everything really well. I've been having to leave the screw in the center of the cog a little bit loose so that it would even rotate, something that made me uncomfortable from the very beginning. It should be able to move freely even with the screw tightened all the way. Getting my bike to a real shop that actually could help me in Savannah was becoming a major priority.
I was looking at the green dotted line on the map on my phone (which pretty well follows the cue sheets for the east coast greenway) and comparing it to the marked bike routes on the road, when I got the bright idea that I knew a better way and struck off on my own. An hour later, I realized that I was slightly confused, as the road I was on was taking me steadily away from the road I wanted. I sighed to myself for being the hardheaded know-it-all that I am as I turned to go the 6 miles extra I now needed to go to get back on track, not to mention the extra distance I had traveled on the road I had just come from. I passed by a high school that was doing some kind of homecoming parade practice or something, and couldn't help but smile and bounce a little to the music of the marching band as I went by.
I got some Subway when I finally got back on track, which was one of the landmarks I had been looking for anyway. I was extremely pleased that the traffic was all together tolerating me quite well, even on the road where I didn't "belong." There was a huge stretch with wide 5-10 foot shoulders, sometimes even protected with a row of rumble strips.
All good things must come to an end, I've decided, especially when it comes to good places to ride. Eventually the shoulder went away completely and the traffic increased as well. It was a major commercial area nearing an interchange for a major highway, and although people were being decently nice, the shear volume and speed of the cars was stressing me out. I had been calling and texting my cousin off and on all morning so we could keep tabs on where we were in our journeys. I had expected him to be coming down I-95, so I started to think that as long as I get as close to I-95 as I can by the time he gets arrives, he could just come to pick me up and we could go from there. Little did I know that his GPS decided to route him around through the way I had considered coming the day before. (He told me it was strangely not busy, by the way...) He ended up driving all over the city due to a bit of miscommunication and confusion about just where I was. Eventually I decided to just sit and wait at a library I found in Pooler, which is just on the other side of I-95 from Savannah.
Soon after we found each other there was the comical and highly technical business of getting my bike into his car. When he told me he had a hatchback, I immediately thought of my station wagon back home. It never crossed my mind that my bike wouldn't fit, mainly because it not fitting wasn't really an option. Well, he showed up in probably the smallest hatchback ever. I took one look and decided it wasn't going to happen. Nope. I started thinking about how I was going to ask the fire department across the street to watch my bike for a day or two for me. Dave was still a bit optimistic, though, so I went ahead and took off all my bags and my front tire, and let him go ahead and try to stuff it in and see for himself. The back seats went down. My front seat went all the way up, as well as tilted forward to a very uncomfortable angle. He also gave up several inches of his own leg room in the name of victory. I also told myself to stop whining about bending the fenders funny or any of the other more sensitive things because it needed to be taken in to be looked at anyway. I'm sure that probably helped. The back hatch door wouldn't close all the way, and if it wasn't for the little stylish inward curves in the doors where my back tire ended up resting, it wouldn't have worked, but it was in! It was a feat of tetris contortion mastery and a testament to the mindset of, "oh, it will happen," that we both seem to have with certain things. Unfortunately no pictures were taken of the poor thing in the back of this tiny little car.
We got in with plans to go into downtown Savannah and ditch the car somewhere and have a look around. We went to a little bar/restaurant with a crazy bike/trolley/carriage/bar in the front! I had seen them before on the internet, but never in person. As I had been to Subway not long before, I just got some desert, while Dave proceeded to devour some real food and some beer. He really likes his beer. This is important to know. He vowed to return to get the banana egg roll before leaving the next day.
We started meandering our way toward the river, and stopped into a Scottish pub to try out some of their drafts. I left my wallet in the car, however, and couldn't get anything as I actually got carded, which didn't happen even once in SC. I almost forgot about having to prove your age to get a drink in most normal establishments. I know I'm old enough to buy some booze. The bartender informed me that I should seriously consider going back and getting my ID if I wanted to drink that night. I'm not much of a drinker, so not drinking didn't bother me nearly as much as having her look at me as if I was some kind of underage hooligan trying to be sneaky. I must be the worst sneaky underage hooligan ever, because I would have at least presented a fake ID and not no ID if that was the case.
This is also when we found out that the Rock 'n' Roll Marathon was going on in Savannah this weekend, which helped to explain why the parking lot was nearly completely full at the restaurant from earlier, and why there seemed to be just so many people everywhere. We eventually continued to mosey our way down to the river walk, and I continued to ask Dave at nearly every pub or bar I saw if he wanted to get something from this place or that place. On the river, I kept my eye out for a carved candle shop that used to be a sort of tradition for me to go to whenever I was down here. I loved watching them being made, and looking at all of the pretty designs. At one point I wanted to become an apprentice there and learn how to make them myself. After walking all the way from end to end, and still no candle shop, I went into the last little store to ask about it. Apparently, they had been out of business for 10 years or so! Shows how long it's been since I've been down this way. It hasn't really been that long since I was considering SCAD for a college, was it?
We had been putting off finding a hotel for the night, and here I'm sure that Dave and my stories will differ significantly. I was beginning to drag from being in bed by 10 most nights, and I still hadn't had a shower. I also needed to do laundry. Neither of us wanted to pay more than necessary, but because of the Marathon, about half of the hotels didn't even have any rooms left! After driving around for well over an hour, both calling and walking in to ask about the price and amenities, I stopped caring where we stayed, as all of the hotels started getting jumbled up in my head and seemed about the same anyway. I kept worrying about the circulation in my legs as my toes kept getting tingly and numb, probably from the way I was all bunched up in my seat due to my bike being all bunched up in the back. "The thrill of the hunt" kept Dave going long after I was done, and we finally settled in to somewhere that seemed to fit the bill, although there wasn't a laundry room.
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