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Around midnight it started pouring. I laid there unable to possibly sleep against the sound of the downpour, hoping against hope that it wouldn't end up being too much for my tent. It just kept on coming. I felt the drips first, then quickly discovered water was beginning to pool at the edges of the tent. I quickly pulled out my towel and soaked up as much as I could, the towel sopping wet with the rain still coming. I then used my shirt. At last the torrent reduced to a drizzle, and while I had a sopping wet towel and shirt and a slightly damp sleeping bag, at least I wasn't getting any wetter. I managed some restless sleep from there, and the rain thankfully never picked up again.

More thankfully still, it was not raining in the morning and no sign that it would start up again soon, unlike the previous forecast. As soon as I emerged from my tent, I was immediately swarmed by mosquitoes. For every one I vengefully smacked, there were five more already on me. The bugspray I covered myself in didn't seem to do a thing. I couldn't stand it. Every moment standing there tearing down, shaking off dirt and water, packing wet stuff, was an agony of itch with all the mosquitoes. I could hardly think straight, frantically getting ready as fast as possible and not giving a damn how wet and dirty anything was, as long as I could get the hell away from the bloodsuckers.

Once I was on the road, things got better. The wind was not nearly so strong as it had been. After a short time on 17, fairly dead on a Sunday morning, I got off onto a road through the National Forest, S 1032 and then Halfway Creek, a little out of the way, but worth it to be off the highway. I called Rachael and chatted with her while riding through the lovely forest. Then I hit 41 and it was business as usual highway with minimal shoulder, though less traffic than 17. Close to 17, Google tried to take me into a suburb as a shortcut, but I didn't see the trail they wanted me to use, and ended up meandering back. Which was good, because I hit a gas station there, and finally got myself some much needed breakfast (of junk food), as the mosquitoes had made me flee without eating.

The left turn off of 17 through the wall of traffic was the scariest thing I did all day. But then I was free of 17, taking side roads around it up to the bridge. I stopped at the memorial park and the pier there, admiring the bridge from below. Then it was over the bridge on the nice pedestrian and bicycle path along the side, stopping several times for pictures. And then I was in Charleston.

Charleston is lovely. All my previous less than fun experience in South Carolina was washed clean by the fun I had biking through Charleston. I biked along the ECG route, following the water, though detouring off to see the historic downtown area and the inside market (which I didn't actually enter because it was packed). I saw one bike taxi after another, waving as I passed. I took some time to enjoy the Waterfront Park, and rushed into the splash fountain to cool off, whooping with joy (much to the strange looks of several, clearly joyless, onlookers). I appreciated White Point Garden and the great view of the ocean. I passed one huge historic home after another. Then at last I hopped on 17 one more time to cross another big bridge. Then it was down over Wappoo Creek to James Island to reach my hosts in the early afternoon.

It was wonderful to be inside again. I met my host out in the garden and immediately she and her husband set to taking care of me. I got my wet tent and bike cover hung out to dry, all my clothes in the wash (others loaned to me to facilitate this), showered, fed and beered, everything I needed. I even got my sleeping bag washed as well. In the background, he had a national bike race up on his laptop, in which he was rooting for a young breakout racer, who ended up managing second. She gave me a short driving tour of the area (the magnificent live oaks lining Wappoo Drive!) on the way to CVS. He cooked an exceptional dinner, salad, pasta, and torte for dessert. They're incredible people, her a Northeasterner, him a Brit, with great stories, making it a very fun evening. They spent many years living on a sail boat sailing around the world, and after living up in Rhode Island for the longest time, they decided they wanted to retire in Florida, which turned out too expensive, so they ended up falling in love with Charleston and coming here instead. They've toured around Europe and spent some time tonight showing me some incredible pictures before dinner, and after on planning another trip to come. I also got a tour of some of his vintage touring bikes. They were just what I needed, and today exactly the day I needed it to be to recover from a rough couple days. I am recharged.