Blue Boat Home

I tried wearing my sweatshirt last night instead of using it as a pillow like I usually do, and I stayed warm until 6:00, half an hour before dawn.  I crawled out of my tent and onto my bike and was in the warm Waffle House in minutes.

It was not a happy morning at the Waffle House.  Near as I could make out, the shift that had just ended had left an overflowing dishwasher and a filthy grill for the new shift -- just one cook and one waitress to handle the morning rush -- to clean up.  The food was OK anyway, and I was glad to have it.

It rained off and on last night and still couldn't make up its mind this morning, so that I was tempted to stay put for another night -- the price was hard to beat.  What got me moving was the forecast of frost for tonight; there was no shelter from the wind at the campground in Bluffton.  In that regard, at least, I thought I could do better down the road.  So off I went.

I rode back into Savannah this morning and got a new bolt for my seat, plus a spare just in case, and I stopped at a gelato shop to send e-mail.

[posted to the Wheeled Migration Yahoo Group on March 7, 2005]

I spoke -- or wrote -- too soon in my negative assessment of the Savannah Hostel. Although you can see at hotel review sites that other people have had bad experiences with the manager as well, he warmed up as the weekend progressed, and I really enjoyed talking with the guests from around the world, and that made up for a lot.

I stayed at the hostel until lockout this morning (10:00) and then checked in on the Tree Climbing Championships on my way to church.

I took the recommendation of the folks from Alaska and went with them on a tour of the First Black Baptist Church, which was founded in 1775.  I missed the beginning of the tour, so I'm not clear on whether it was a stop on the Underground Railroad or a coordination center.  The best part of the tour was the guide, who has personally researched the history of the place and encouraged all her guests to question what they're taught in school about slavery and American history.  One curious feature of the church that's still being researched is Hebrew graffiti on the ends of the

I started out the morning by going to the visitor center, since there seemed to be a consensus that that was the place to go, but it turned out to be little more than a ticket counter for the many commercial tours available: you can see the historic district on foot, on a rented bike, in a horse-drawn carriage, or in a noisy diesel bus made to look like a trolley.

My second stop was City Market, which I hoped would be a farmers' market, but it's a pedestrian mall.  An Internet cafe there let me plug into the phone line, and I caught up with my e-mail over coffee.

[posted to the Wheeled Migration Yahoo Group on March 4, 2005]

Hi, folks! I made it to Savannah a day earlier than I had planned, and I'll be here at least until Sunday.

I got up bright and early, thanks partly to the cold, but didn't freeze my extremities this time.  I followed US-280 east from Reidsville to Pembroke, postponing as long as possible the question of whether I would stay the night there or continue to Savannah.  I decided to go for it, even though it meant a 65-mile day, because there was a hostel waiting for me, and I fully expected it to be as nice as Pirate Haus.

When the night started getting cold, a draft blew in under the door of the social hall and made it at least as chilly as my tent would have been... maybe more so, because my tent fills with body heat.  I didn't turn on the thermostat because there was a big sign saying not to touch it, so I just froze.  My fingertips and toes regained their feeling around noon.