Antiques

Today was a good day. All my gear dry, my clothes washed, well rested in a bed, I was all ready to face the road again. I was fed a delicious breakfast of eggs, hash browns, and English muffin. Then I said farewell to my wonderful hosts, as I have done so many times, and hit the road. The previous forecast of potential rain for today had changed and it was now supposed to be clear and sunny all day, and even more importantly, minimal wind, out of the north (though sadly the one day I head mostly west). With a parting picture, I was told which way to go, but said that I would take a quick turn the other way, because I needed just one last glance at Wappoo Drive. It's quite incredible, the street covered by a canopy of live oaks, ancient moss-covered trees that looks like something out of a Halloween movie.

Then it was farewell to Charleston. On 700, I biked over a big bridge over the Stono River, then along River Road, and over yet another bridge over the river. I only had to be on 17 for the briefest of stretches today. Just before my actual turn off, I saw a dead end road I knew I had to turn down. There was this beautiful marsh, lined at its edge by decrepit trees, perched upon by crows and a curious bird I didn't recognize. I stood at the side of the unused road, and admired the scene for some time. Then it was off 17 and onto various state and side roads.

I didn't see a town, or really much save countryside, until I reached alternate 17. I stopped for food, though not the restroom since it was out of order, at a gas station in Cottageville, and saw little else there. Round O seemed to be nothing more than an amusing name.

Then by early afternoon, I reached Walterboro, my stop for the day. I didn't have turn by turn directions on, and I ended up turning off at the right place almost by accident. As I was checking to see if I was close, a lady came out and asked if I needed directions, then as I said I was alright, asked if I was a Couchsurfer, giving the name of my host. I told her I was, and she told me I had arrived at the right place, the gate to get in just down the alley. After a quick text to my host, he said he was on his way, since he runs an antique shop right near by, and in a moment was there, letting me into the incredible and enormous home (from which they are soon downsizing). He went back to work and let me have some downtime. Before going he said there was beer I was welcome to, though he didn't know what, as they never really drink beer. Lo and behold, what awaited me but a Yuengling in the fridge, to make me feel right back in Pennsylvania.

Around 5, he and his partner came home, and along with the neighbor I had encountered earlier and her partner, we all went out for dinner at a Mexican place. He was uncertain if there would be any vegetarian option there for me, with many questions about my diet. I've noticed that as I've come further south, being a vegetarian has gone from being a matter of course to being seen as an oddity. Being from Nebraska, and having biked through the rural Midwest, I am not unaccostomed to folks not knowing how to react to vegetarianism...but I do miss the normalcy around it that I had in the Northeast. As it turned out, the Mexican place had, as many do, plenty of vegetarian options, including a vegetarian section they had never noticed in their time going there. It was a fun dinner, with talk about Couchsurfing and their long experience hosting (funny enough, his first time hosting involved French cyclists swimming naked in his pool, because they had no swim trunks), my touring, and plenty of inappropriate humor. Later in the evening we sat in front of the TV with Antique Road Show on, rerun episodes with updates on the current value of the item, up or down, and I learned from my host about the process of antique collection and investment, the tiers of people finding and selling up the chain, how some things remain rare and their value is less volatile than stock and how others flood the market when their collectors die causing the price to fall. find it fascinating and strange, a whole other world, the idea of investing in collectibles, physical possessions you have to store, or of paying thousands and tens of thousands of dollars for things that have no utilitarian value. I can appreciate the concept, but it is antithetical to the life of a nomadic bike tourist.

Tomorrow will be a longer day, about 80 miles to Savannah. But there's no forecast of rain and it looks like the wind is to be in my favor. I'm looking forward to it.