Click pictures for larger image.
 

Thursday, October 2 The temperature was cool when I left Vidalia, GA on Thursday morning at 8:45.  I had a 7:30 AM appointment at the office, or I would have left earlier.  My new Arkel panniers had performed well on my test rides, so I felt confident their performance would continue.  My goal was to log at least 100 miles on three days to test myself for a planned ride to Boston in 2004.  I deliberated over my first day's route.  One of my options was to use SR 292 through Collins to Claxton where I would join US 280.  Instead, I took US 280 to Reidsville to Claxton.  This route was longer, but it would provide the 100 miles I wanted on the first day.  After considering all options, this route seemed to be the best choice.  The forecast was for cool temperatures

in the morning but with low 80's in the afternoon.  The forecast predicted winds of 7-9 mph.  The forecast solidified my decision.
 

I faced a head wind for the first 60 miles.  As predicted, it warmed to the 80's, which forced me to stop several times while on SR 204 between Lanier and I-95.  When SR 204 took a southern turn, the wind was not directly in my face.  SR 204 dead-ends into US 17, and I turned south.  The five miles on US 17 to Richmond Hill was fine except for first 2 miles.  The first thing I saw was a super Wal-Mart and roadwork on a bridge.  This area had heavy traffic.  My timing was probably not good.  At about 4 PM, I stopped at a new Kroger and purchased some items for the night, which included a gallon of water.  I bungeed the water jug on the luggage rack over my tent and sleeping pad and headed towards my first overnight stop.  Fort McAllister State Park is located 7 miles from Richmond Hill.  The traffic was not too bad.  I rolled into the park about 5:30 PM

 

The campground host was a very friendly and helpful man.  During our conversation, he told me that he was a retired police officer from New York who migrated south and retired again after working more years as a firefighter.

The marina just ouside Fort McAllister State Park.

My dinner was a package of oatmeal, a can of Campbell's chicken and dumplings, a bagel, and 24 oz of beer.  When I arrived, my cyclo-computer read 98.4 miles with a 13.6 mph average speed.  A four-mile ride to the park's washing machines gave me the century I wanted.

The first night was educational.  I carried two tarps - one to use as a ground cloth for my tent and another as a bike cover.  It was a surprise to discover that the tarp on my bike provided an alarm system also.  When re-packing the bag of bagels, I had left one exposed.  When I placed the bagels in my front pannier, I did not zip the compartment completely closed.  When I first heard the tarp rustling, I assumed it was a cat.  The noise continued, so when I eventually investigated, I discovered a raccoon had raided my bagels.  The panniers went in the tent with me, and I got some sleep then.  The temperature fell into the 40's, but I remained warm throughout the night.

Friday, October 3
I packed up, dressed in short sleeves, and hit the road by 7:45 am.  The McDonald’s in Richmond Hill was too tempting to resist, so I stopped for breakfast.  The fellow behind me in line at the counter asked about my bike and trip.  We chatted while we waited for our orders.  He mentioned that he once owned the bike shop in Richmond Hill, but had sold it.  He now rides a cycle-cross bike, which is fine for road riding and light touring.

My visit to the Dairy Queen in Pembroke on Friday did not leave a good impression.  My noon meal on this day was different but tasty.  I found a convenience store with hot water, so I mixed two packages of instant soup; I treated myself to a pint of ice cream for dessert.  This was the first of many times I had ice cream.  Later, I followed the example of a fellow in a convenience store by adding a coke to make an ice cream float.

It became hot again on the way to Statesboro, so at 1:30, I found a shady area alongside SR 67 and rested for 15 minutes.  Billy’s Bike Shop in Statesboro is located on SR 67, so I coasted in for a visit and a purchase.  Billy installed a kickstand on my bike.  There is not always a convenient place to lean my bike when I stop alongside the road, so the kickstand was a very useful addition.  Billy informed me of a short cut to George Smith State Park (GLSSP), but I went through Portal to get extra miles.  My cyclo-computer registered 100 miles when I saw the park entrance at 6:15 PM.  My average speed remained constant at 13.6 mph.

Skye, my wife, met me at GLSSP, and we joined the other cyclists camping there with Coastal Bicycle Touring Club (CBTC) for their evening group meal.  This was CBTC's third year to visit GLSSP for a camp and ride event.  We visited with Royce Smith and Pegi Boatwright during our meal.  The meal and fellowship were fantastic.  Skye decided against spending the night and opted to return home after the meal.

Saturday, October 4
Saturday morning's activities began, just after 8 AM, with a country breakfast cooked by Pegi Boatwright.  She had rented a cabin and cooked a great breakfast for Royce and his cycling friends.  I felt fortunate that she included me.  I decided to continue on my tour on Saturday instead of joining CBTC for their group ride.

My plans for day three was to ride to Hamburg State Park, which would be less than 100 miles.  At midday, I called the Hamburg ranger who informed me that only one campsite was available.  I called the ranger at Mistletoe State Park near Augusta who told me they had numerous available campsites.  The choice was obvious, so I headed to Mistletoe.  I took my midday meal at the Waffle King in Wadley.  Their food and service were good, and their other patrons asked about my trip.  I encountered the first steep hill on the ride from Wrens to Harlem.  It was about 4 pm and 80 degrees.  I completed the last 40 yards blinded by salty sweat in my eyes.  I even drifted off onto the shoulder a couple of times.  This hill was actually as challenging as the ones in the Helen area.

When I reached Harlem, I discovered the local authorities had closed the main street through town due to the annual Laurel Hardy Festival.  Harlem, GA is his birthplace.  I took a detour, noticed a house with several bikes, and almost stopped to chat, but I still had 15 miles to go and more hills to see.  I arrived at Mistletoe State Park about 6:45 pm.  The trip was 99.4 miles and with an average speed of 13.13 mph.

My evening meal was similar to the first.  I had stopped at a store just outside of the park and purchased fluids - another gallon of water and a bottle of beer.  It was pleasing to hear the sound of children playing in camp.

Sunday, October 5
Since my planned distance was shorter, I left camp later than usual - 8:30 AM.  A later departure gave me chance to wash my clothes.  I stopped at the store near the entrance to Mistletoe State Park for coffee and breakfast.  My next planned stop was about 9 miles at next little community called Phizney.  When I coasted into parking lot of a store, a teenager greeted me with, “Do you want Gatorade?”  The Harlem Bike Ride was that day and this store was a rest stop.  A group of boys from a boot camp facility working on their high school diplomas operated the stop.  I took their offer and filled my bottles.  I chatted with them for a few minutes.  Cyclists would not arrive at this stop for another hour, so I continued on my trip.  The next section was down hill for several miles, and my brakes began dragging.  I am very grateful to my friend, Mike Erickson, for spending an hour with me the weekend before showing me how to correct it.  I had to stop twice to adjust the brakes, but they worked well for the remainder of trip.
 

My midday meal was a treat.  Goolsby’s Restaurant is just outside Lincolnton.  A local person had recommended it, and I am glad I stopped because the food was excellent.  The owner told me the restaurant had been in his family for 100 years.  They serve about 300 plates every day between 11:30 and 2:00 PM.  A group of six motorcycle riders arrived while I was having my meal.  We conversed about our different methods of travel.  If you are ever Lincolnton, GA at noon, try the food at Goolsby’s; I recommend it.  The meal was tasty, but a big meal in middle of day is a killer for a cyclist.  My visit to Goolsby's was so pleasant that I spent extra time there.  Upon leaving, I shopped at the Dollar General and the Family Dollar for a cooking pot and a can of sterno.  Neither store had them, but I found them at a grocery store.

Just outside of Lincolnton on SR 79, someone had made interesting looking child's swing that looked like a horse.  They made it with an old tire.  The yard was well kept, so I stopped in front yard of the house for a rest break.

I was about fifteen miles out of Lincolnton when Goolsby's fine food began to cause gastric distress.  I stopped at a mobile home and asked permission to use their bathroom.  Fortunately, they agreed.  Here's a hint to cycle tourists - avoid large meals in middle of day even if the food is excellent.

The heat required me to stop a few times, and at two of my stops, the locals warned me about a steep hill after crossing the Broad River.  This hill forced me into my lowest granny gear, but it did not last very long.  I was pleased with myself when I crested it.
 

Bobby Brown State Park is a fishing camp.  Most of campers were retired people there to fish.  I reached the Park by 4 PM.  The trip was fifty-seven miles and my average speed was 12.06 mph.  The campsite I chose was next to a RV.  Bill and Faye Black were camping there.  Bill and Faye took a sincere interest and adopted me during my stay at the park.  He gave the history of the camp and his previous visits there.  His longest visit had lasted six consecutive weeks.  He and a fishing group kept a campfire burning five straight weeks one time.  They burned five truckloads of wood. At the other camps, I was usually the first one up and going.  The 60 and 70-year-old anglers started moving around 5:30 AM at Bobby Brown State Park.  Faye cooked breakfast for Bill and me.  My travels started about 8:25 AM.

Monday, October 6
My first stop was to re-fill my bottles.  The little store did not have anything larger that 20 oz.  The woman running the store took my bottles, washed them out, and filled them with ice and water.  She would not take any payment for her generosity, but I left a few bills on the counter, anyway.

My midday meal was an oriental salad at Wendy’s in Elberton.  It was first-rate and did not cause any digestion problems later for me.  It was just right.  Elberton is the granite capital of the world; at least the signs indicate so.  I stopped at a Wal-Mart for more Power Bars.  The Elberton Library was near my route, and I stopped to check on my e-mail.  The computer screen was in Spanish and the key board seemed different.
 
 

The town of Royston, GA is the home of Ty Cobb who was the first man inducted to the baseball hall of fame.  I stopped at the Ty Cobb Museum.  Cobb's history was interesting and impressive.  His monetary charitable gifts are still producing funds.  He initiated a scholarship fund that has provided almost eight million dollars to date.

 

I arrived at Victoria Bryant State Park about 3:00 PM.  The trip was 65 miles with an average speed of 11.2 mph.  Apparently, the hills took a toll on my rate of speed.  The campsites were big in comparison to the others I have used.  The sites were paved with either gravel or concrete and all were well maintained.  I did not want to sleep on rough gravel, so I chose a site paved with concrete.  It was also the worst sleeping night I had although not bad.  I fell asleep about 11 PM.

Tuesday, October 7
I left the park about 7:20 AM.  As I returned to the main road out of Franklin Springs, I found a local breakfast restaurant.  The owner took an interest in my trip and provided directions.  The food was delicious.  I asked one of locals for directions; he mentioned something about sending me over Apple Pie Ridge as he winked to his friend.  I left Franklin Spring headed toward US 441 and Hollingsworth.  I reached Hollingsworth at 11:30 with several interesting stops along the way.

The sign on US 441 stated Fort Hollingsworth on a historical type sign.  The store at the stop sign appeared closed, but I stopped anyway.  I stopped near an 18-wheeler that was parked and running.  When two men exited the store, I realized it was open for business.  We discussed possible routes to Helen.  They were both local people, so they knew the roads very well.  I showed them my route on my map.  They shook their head in a negative way and pointed to a mountain on the horizon.  They said I would be better to travel US 441 to SR 17 to Helen.  They said my intended route had a 6 or 7 per cent grade to climb.  I stated that the map indicated it was a shorter distance, and they agreed.  They said that once I traveled over the tough part, the remainder would be easy.  They were partially right.

When we parted, I thanked them, and they wished me safe journey.  I was constantly amazed at the sincerity in the voices of all the people I met who wished me a safe journey.  I was a stranger to them, but their interest was real and their concern seemed sincere.

The two truck drivers were correct about the hills on the way to Helen.  I became cold on the downhill rides due to the increased speed.  After 4 miles, I reached a hill that was too steep to pedal; I had to dismount and push my bike for 75 yards.  This was the only time I had to push my loaded bike.  I noticed the sign near a subdivision that read, "Apple Pie Ridge".  I realized why the truck driver at the restaurant winked to his friend.  This hill was an 8% grade according to the DOT road sign.  I made two turns and reached Duncan Bridge Road.  It took me to within 3 miles of Helen.  One the pictures I took was of large pink elephant on this side of the road at business location.  It would be next day before I understood its relevance.

A winery is located just outside of Helen.  I stopped and entered.  I wanted to taste the wine but decided against it.  The thought of getting a DUI ticket in Helen dissuaded me.  The Grist Mill across the road looked interesting, so I walked over for a short visit.  I had previously passed by this area during car trips to Helen, but cycle touring provided an opportunity to visit these places.  I wanted to linger at the Grist Mill, but it was 1:30 PM, and I was getting hungry.

The bridge in Helen was my goal, and I felt a sense of accomplishment upon arriving.  I wanted to shout and tell everyone what I had done but no one cared or seemed to notice.  Some victories in cycling should remain personal.  Helen was hosting Oktoberfest and buses were arriving with retirees.  I ate at the restaurant on the river.  Fatigue was beginning to worry me.  My order took longer than I expected it to arrive, but I did not complain because I needed time to recover.  Afterward lunch, while re-dressing in my riding gear, I could not find my head (sweat) band.  I remembered putting it on when I left the winery and taking it off at the gristmill.  I thought, "What is another three or four miles?"  I backtracked and found my headband on the roadside at the gristmill.  An ice cream shop across the road was too tempting, and the chocolate sundae I ordered was mouth-watering.  A couple came in while I was eating mine, and they had to have one also.  It looked too good.

It was about 3:30 and I needed to stop at a grocery store for supplies.  The park is several miles out of Helen.  The road to Unicoi State Park road was steep.  The traffic was heavy on that short section of road, and there were times that I felt threatened.

I was tired from hill climbing, and the traffic had put me into a tense mood as I entered the Unicoi Ranger Station.  I comically suggested to the ranger that I would be guilty of murder if she did not have a campsite for me.  She failed to see my humor, but thankfully, she did not call for security.

Unicoi's camping area has two sections, and I made a mistake of going into the first area.  It was a steep climb out.  Several people watched to see if I would make it.  When I did get to the correct section, I found a campsite adjacent to a mountain stream.  It was peaceful and beautiful.  Unicoi State Park provided entertainment for campers and children from 7:30 to 9:00 PM.  This was the last night I cooked a meal.

Wednesday, October 8
 

Wednesday's ride began at 7:30 AM.  I stopped in Helen at a Huddle House for breakfast.  I made the mistake of ordering bacon with out asking the price.  The Waffle King in Wadley was a pleasant experience and offered a fair price.  The Huddle House in Helen was the opposite. While backtracking on US 441, it began raining; I donned my rain gear and shoe covers.  It drizzled for about an hour but never got bad.  My shoes remained dry; wet shoes are the one thing that makes riding unpleasant.

The return trip on Duncan Bridge road and Apple ridge was interesting.  When I reached the top of hill at Duncan, I saw the pink elephant again.  The pink elephant had been a prophetic warning.  I saw an artificial elephant, but it just as well could have been imaginary.  This time I was exhausted.  Apple Pie Ridge had a DOT caution sign with an eight percent grade warning.  My bike computer registered 43 miles per hour on that short, steep grade down hill.  It was exciting for about 2 seconds of the minute or two it lasted.  A bike with 45 -50 lbs of weight plus the rider would be difficult to stop.  Luckily, no cars were in front or behind me.

I traveled on US 441 from Hollingsworth toward Athens for over 50 miles.  My map indicated it was downhill.  The map did not say straight down hill.  It was a longer ride than I had anticipated and a head wind worked against me.  When US 441 enters Athens, it merges with the by-pass, and I did not want to test my fate than much.  I took an alternate route which was the old original US 441 through downtown and the University of GA campus on Lumpkin St.  It felt odd to be the only person pedaling a bike through the middle of a large college campus; I expected to see students using bikes as transportation.  Leaving Athens took several stops to get directions.  My intentions were to ride south beyond Athens and find a motel.  It was 4:45 PM when I reached Watkinsville on SR 15, and I inquired about a motel.  I spoke with a person who advised that it would be better to continue to Greensboro.  The GA highway sign indicated 24 miles to Greensboro.  I was averaging of about 11.5 mph, so my arrival would be near nightfall depending on terrain.  Good fortune was with me!  As I left Watkinsville, I had a nice downhill grade.  The wind turned to push me, and it was very pleasant ride until I reached the Oconee River Bridge at about the 15-mile mark and at 6 PM.  I asked myself, "How many hills can I crest in a one-mile section of road?"  Daylight would end within the hour.

The 24-mile ride to Greensboro had one short stop, and it was a ride with purpose - I had to find a motel bed.  Good fortune was with me again, and I checked into the Thirty Court Motel located at an intersection in Greensboro at 7:05 PM.  The registration clerk helped get a pizza delivered to my room.  My trip had been 102.5 miles for the day.

Thursday, October 9
My last morning on the road began at 6:50 AM with breakfast at a restaurant in downtown Greensboro.  One of the patrons was a sales representative for playground equipment.  He asked me to tell Ed Smith "hello" when he learned that I was from Vidalia.  Ed Smith started the Vidalia recreation department and had an impressive coaching record.  He was my football coach in midget league, and I have a deep respect for him.

The next stop was Sparta.  The stop was longer than it should have been.  The ride took an hour and included two stops.  The temperature chilled me, so I put on a long sleeve, cold weather jersey.  I stopped in White Plains at the post office to mail some post cards from Helen to my family.  When I asked if the post office could mail me, the postmistress laughed.  I was partially kidding and partially wishful that she could actually do such a thing.  The trip had been fun, but I was getting weary.

When I reached Warthen, the miles were getting to me.  The one store in Warthen was a rest stop.  I created an ice cream float with a pint of ice cream and a coke.  Several people asked about trip and my bike.  As I was leaving, one woman asked several questions concerning why I would take such a long bike trip.  I responded, "This is my mountain."  She smiled and acknowledged she understood.

Sandersville was welcome sight, and I stopped for lunch at McDonald's.  I rested inside for a while.  I had been tired before but not to this degree.  I was not recovering very well.  Eight days on the bike had made me weary.

The last rest stop was Wrightsville.  I did stop about half way between Sandersville and Wrightsville to get out of the heavy jersey I put on that morning.  It was getting hot in the afternoon.  I was hungry, so I stopped in Wrightsville for another ice cream float.

My plan was to go to Vidalia but at the current speed of 12 mph and the necessary rest stops, I estimated that I would not arrive before nightfall.  I was disappointed to have to do it, but I did not want to take unnecessary risks, so at halfway to Adrian, I called Mike Erickson.  Mike could not help, but he enlisted Jay Warthen as my rescuer.  Jay called and promised to meet me in Soperton.

The sugar of my last ice cream float had energized me, and I felt stronger when I reached Adrian.  Because my average speed had improved, I thought I could make back home to Vidalia.  As bad luck would have it, I had my first and only flat tire on the trip about four miles away from Soperton just before I-16 on SR15.  It took 30 minutes to change the tube; I had to remove a pannier before removing the wheel.  A pharmacist from Soperton, who wanted to help, pulled over and offered me a place to stay if I needed it.

I arrived at the Soperton Dairy Queen about 6:50 pm.  As I turned into the parking lot, my cell phone rang.  The caller was Brandon, my son.  His call came at the end of my trip, so I had ample news to tell him.  The Dairy Queen's hamburger and milk shake were scrumptious.  My last day was 102.5 miles- the same total as the previous day.  I had been in the saddle for twelve hours.  The hamburger and shake had refreshed me, and my energy level improved over what it had been at midday.  The last hour of riding was probably some of best of the day.

Jay Warthen was a welcome sight.  He was very kind to come to pick me up.  He wanted to be the first to hear about my travels.  During our conversation, Jay informed me that the community of Warthen, GA was named for his family.  It had been a rest stop for me earlier that day.

The trip was fun.  It logged five days of one hundred miles or more.  My route took me from the coast in Richmond Hill near the inter-coastal waterways to the mountains in Helen, GA.  My purpose was to see if I could handle the mileage and terrain.  I felt satisfied that I accomplished my mission.