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.
When I got into the town of Reidsville, I stopped at a grocery store for some badly needed provisions -- the bike route took me through such small towns that I hadn't seen a supermarket in days -- and then checked my e-mail at the library. While I was there, I followed a hunch that the next day's prescribed route might be out of my way. Sure enough, it would take me about 20 miles farther north than I want to go!
The librarian and her daghter helped me choose a more direct route into Savannah. Along the way the librarian made some outrageous generalizations about Black people (who are the majority of Savannah's population), within uncomfortable earshot of a Black patron. And then she said she wasn't prejudiced.
Right outside of town is a state park with the almost saurian name of Gordia-Alatamaha. At least I imagine local children learning its name alongside ichthylosaurus and iguanodon. It's a very nice little campground, considering how close it is to the highway and the town.