This morning was quite cool (64°) and slightly overcast, as we pedaled the countryside, removed from the hustle and bustle of yesterday’s busy highway.  The country knolls,small bridgesand railroad overpasses taxed our legs as if we were climbing mountains.

A couple hours into the ride, the sun had burned off the overcast and fluffed the clouds for pretty silhouettes against the blue sky.

By 10:30 a.m., we had cranked out 36 miles with only ten minutes worth of stops, we needed a rest.  A half hour break, plus a muffin and small breakfast sandwich and we were back on the road, rejoining the busy highway 17.  We had just a couple miles on this stretch of the highway, before finding our turnoff.  But no road appeared, so we tightened our grip and maintained our highway riding.  The traffic came in waves, the breaks were welcome, but always short lived.  We scoured the horizon for any turnoff to a side road/alternate route, but all that appeared were dirt roads.  We had spent several hours last night charting a way to stay off this busy highway and thought we had found a good course.  Little did we know that the “roads” we had found on the map were all dirt.  Our whole disposition changes in the traffic, shoulders tense, eyes are focused 100% on the road, holding tight to the narrow white line as every truck’s approach is preceded by the deep engine rumble.  Not the best of conditions, but it was our one choice.

It was not until 60 miles that we turned off the highway, but it would be another two miles to get to the greenway we had waited for.  This is the spot we were supposed to stop for the night; riding to the outskirts of Charleston (and resting) and then biking to the city in the morning.  However, the long range forecast had a wicked storm heading our way in a couple of days, so we needed to move our ride along.

Thankfully, the ten miles of shade and pretty sites on the greenway helped to breath life into very tired bodies.  Away from the noise and traffic, we began to relax, raise our heads from their bent down position and take in the sights.

With the exception of getting halfway up a huge bridge and having to turn around  (no bicycles allowed) we sailed into Charleston and to our hotel as if we knew where we were going.

Naturally, our room was not ready, but it gave us a chance for a drink and a bite to eat.  A delicious shower later and we were back out on the street, walking this time, for happy hour and dinner.  We did not have to go far to find either, as well as some interesting conversation with John, from Philadelphia, but lives four months in Vietnam.  Still a little full from our 4:00 lunch, we had a snack and dessert, of course,and headed to bed.  We had been on the road for eight hours, six and a half hours in the saddle; it had been a long 76 miles.