A heavy sky and thick humidity joined the cool 74°, when we left the still sleeping St. Augustine.  Without people everywhere, we could see so much more of the town.  But it was only a couple of miles before we crossed the bridge to take us back to the barrier island.  Yesterday’s breeze had switched to the south, to keep us cool and lend assistance to our pedaling.  Every now and then we had a light sprinkle, not enough to get us wet, but it did drop the temperature a few degrees.

Once again, homes were precariously perched on what was left of the narrow sand dune.  At least half the homes showed some damage or repairs in the process from the sea’s wrath.The sea, within fifty feet of their back door, did not hinder the amount of money people would spend on homes insistent on a front row view of the sea.

In Ponte Vedra, home of Sawgrass and the currently playing TPC Tournament, we saw only a few of the huge homes, but the street side landscaping was luscious.Golf courses and beautiful homeswere abundant along our ride through this very exclusive area.

After 32 miles, we came into (regular) civilization to find something to supplement the coffee and juice we had for breakfast earlier.  A very popular local diner served it up just right.

We continued through quiet streets populated with only people exercising.  Condos, homes and beach cottagesall shared this pretty space by the beach.  Jacksonville Beach seamlessly merged into Neptune Beach.

We stopped for a moment through the neighborhood and were visited by this very friendly neighborhood watch cat.

In Atlantic Beach, we lost our beach ride, gained a sprinkle and rode through marshland next to the Mayport Naval Air Station.

We arrived at the St. John’s Ferry, just as it arrived.  Perfect timing as we had been concerned with cooling too much while waiting to board.  But the rain stopped and the crossing of the St. John’s River provided wonderful entertainment and a stowaway.

Once on Amelia Island, we traversed through several parks  with huge protected dunesand spectacular marshland.There was a beautiful bike lane that ducked in and out of the park, but we had no idea how far it went, so we stayed on our nice road with ample bike lane.  Every now and then the sun tried to break through, but we had a lot of shade from the large overhanging trees.

Fernandina Beach obviously has setback laws for building,  so the really nice homes had a better chance to survive.  The town also provided parking and beach access about every block; a real forward thinking, populace friendly area.

Over five hours in the saddle, we were ready to stop.  We knew we had picked the right place to stay, when we saw this painting behind the front desk.  Not long after checking in, thunder and lightening came roaring through with a downpour. A short break in the storm gave us enough time to cross the street for dinner, before the storm came through for round two.

Though the fresh local shrimp was delicious, the hush puppies, lima beans and collards (pronounced “caw lurds”) stole the show.

We justified the dessert by the 65 miles we’d pedaled today.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Love and miss our mothers; if your’s is still with you, hope you let her know how much you care.

Dark heavy clouds remained from last night’s gully-washer, but thankfully the humidity had dropped.  The wind had done a 180° turn from yesterday, making the 73° a bit nippy.  Barely ten minutes out of the door, we turned right on A1A and struggled in the strong northeast blow, the spitting of rain did not help, either.  About a mile later, “we” realized we should have gone left; the laborious pedaling directly into the wind did our legs no favors.  Though we had road construction to face, we regained a little confidence on our few mile westerly track over the Kingsley Creek and off of Amelia Island, before our road turned northwest to find the wind, again.  Away from the warmth of the ocean, the temperature dropped into the high sixties.  The tall trees that lined this long stretch helped to temper the wind and we were able to (barely) maintain double digits on our odometer.  Any break in the trees had the wind sweeping down to slow our forward progress.

Dead ends, dirt roads, churches and a couple homes had replaced expensive gates and expansive mansions.  We had traveled west from the coast and seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.

After 910 miles in Florida, we unceremoniously crossed the St. Mary’s River into Georgia.  Gone were the nice bike lanes; thankfully signage warned of our rights to the road.  Florida has done a tremendous amount of work to make up for the reputation of a terrible place for cyclist; we had been pleasantly surprised. But, speaking of signs, this is one we had not seen in Florida.

When the sun would break through, the temperature would shoot up into the 80’s; we enjoyed every tree that cast long cool shade on our road.

We had planned to stop (around 40 miles) for lunch and rest at the only restaurant on todays route; did not realize it was only open during the week.  A little discouraged and quite tired, we found a picnic bench a few miles down the road to rest and eat. But the bugs were so bad, we quickly consumed a couple oranges and snack bar and were back on the road in less than ten minutes.  Another fives miles and we found a mini-market for some real food and cold drinks.  No, not here.

The extra energy helped us to struggle into the gusting head wind for our remaining miles.

We started to notice a few housing developments and hoped we were coming into civilization.  Shortly before two o’clock we caught sight of the row of hotels where we had decided to stop.  But an ice cream shop was the first thing we came to and quickly turned in; the shower would have to wait.

After 62 miles into the wind, we had to stop, well outside of the Historic District.  Hopefully, we will have some pictures of Old Town Brunswick when we pedal through in the morning.  In the meantime, dinner and bed were in order.

A gorgeous, low humidity morning to ride,until we joined buses, boats, commuters, campers and log trucks on Route 17.  The contrast in traffic from yesterday to today was startling and noisy; the cool morning made it more tolerable, though.  This part of our route had an ample shoulder, but they had rumble-stripped the entire shoulder, so we were once again, forced to ride the white line.

We crossed a couple moderate bridges and the turnoff for Jekyll Island before having to tackle the ridiculously high (480 foot) Sidney Lanier Bridge.The suspension lines were dizzying and the view below was like looking from an airplane.

It was ten miles before we turned off the busy highway and another two before we were in Historic Brunswick.  We had planned on stopping at a cafe for coffee or something, but found only a little park for a quick rest.

The town boasts an impressive City Hall and  Giant Live Oak trees forming a pretty tunnel through the downtown streets.  We especially liked Brunswick Water Treatment Plant’sclever way to spruce up their buildings.

A half an hour later, we rejoined the busy highway with less than a twelve inch shoulder.  Traffic was still heavy, but the drivers were polite.  When the traffic turned off to the interstate, we once again had a quiet road.

On our way into Darien, we crossed the Allamaha and Butler Rivers.  Shrimp trollers waited on the river and the Butler Island Plantation, a former rice plantation, was now being overtaken by the surrounding marshlands.  The planation has a very interesting and sordid slave history.

Though the town was tiny, we found a great place for a “small bite to eat”.Before we pulled away from the town, we were admiring this massive Live Oak, when a log truck pulled up, quite the juxtaposition.

 Our long lunch break and very full stomachs slowed our progress on the last stretch to our motel.  The long morning shadows had disappeared from the road, so the last hour was hot.

Our stop tonight is in the middle of nowhere, but we were happy to have a room and restaurants close by.

Thar jus’ ain’t nothin’ like gooood suddern cookn’……tough to type a southern drawl, but that was dinner.  A good down-home cooking restaurant.  Lightly fried fresh shrimp and fried pork chops (yes, fried – the only way to cook southern……apparently), mashed potatoes with gravy and lima beans.

This will definitely be a record weight gain trip!

No one was up this morning including the sun, when we pulled away and it was C.O.L.D.  Actually, 57° is a great temperature for riding, it was just cooler than we were used to.  Sunrise was beautiful, setting the Spanish Moss on fire and slowly warming the fields. This part of Route 17 parallels the interstate, so the road was relatively quiet with an occasional log truck for company.  In fact, we rode past The Smallest Church in America, but had to do a quick turnaround for a photo; even includes a bell tower.

An hour later we stopped for breakfast and ice for our water bottles, just a few of the many amenities our motel last night did not offer.

Trees lined the road into small towns with an occasional creek (pronounced crick) crossing.  The creek beds were made of muckity muck and guckity guck, apparently a ripe breeding ground for bugs, that greeted us every time we stopped; we kept that to a minimum.

Thirty miles of peace and quiet and then a busy road joined our route, adding another lane, a shoulder for us, but a lot more traffic.  One hundred miles of riding in Georgia and we see our first bike lane.  With a little more riding comfort,  we were able to snap a couple pictures,but the lane did not last long. The direct sun had gotten hot and our approach to the city included bad roads, a narrow white line and four overpasses, taxing our tired legs.

But finally we were off the busy road and in neighborhoods.The shade of Live Oaks welcomed us into Savannah but sightseeing would have to wait.  With a day off tomorrow, we checked in and cooled off from our 55 mile ride.

We are staying on the riverfront in the Historic District of Savannah, so dinner was an easy stroll on pretty streets.  More sights tomorrow, but must post this World War II Memorial.

Looking for some chocolate to finish the day, we found the prefect answer!

Ah, Savannah, what a magnificent example of The South, steeped in history and incredible architecture.  The oldest city in Georgia, was founded by General James Oglethorpe in 1733.  His design for the city streets was based on the square, creating parks as the grid repeated, now known as the Oglethorpe Plan.  The square/parks often had a center statue (the history below is remarkable), but always cool shade and an occasional 600 year old tree.  The most famous park is Chippewa Square, featured in the movie “Forrest Gump”; remember the iconic bench scene?  Oddly “the bench” was a Hollywood prop, never existed in the square or anywhere else in Savannah; now exists in the Tourist Center Museum.  The city must be one of the most widely used backdrops for Hollywood, based on the amount of movies that have been shot here; too many to list.

We walked and toured, taking in as much as we could and will rely on pictures and historical plaques (below) to tell most of the story.

Mercer Williams House, home to singer-songwriter Johnny Mercer; co-founder of Capital Records and writer of many favorites, such as “One for My Baby (and One More for the Road) and “That Old Black Magic”.

Noble Hardee House is the only unrestored mansion in the city; the rusting window frames offering amazing patina.

The City Hall with it’s famous 23 carat gold leaf dome.

The “first” designation is contested but the claim is to be derived from the first black Baptist congregation in North American; first or second it is quite remarkable.

Churches abound in Savannah, but there is but one Cathedral of St. John the Baptist.

But our favorite story is of the Cotton Exchange. Planation cotton trucks would pull up, merchants from their tall windows above would pick their product below and prices always fluctuated.  And much like our modern day stock exchange, a bell would ring to indicate the end of the work day.

We strolled the streets on the way to dinner, stopping at Churchill’s for Happy Hour.  Apparently, Duckie had been enjoying a bit of libation, while we were sightseeing.  Drinks and music were so good, we stayed for dinner, an amazing Arugula Salad with fresh mozzarella and a pickled peach dressing and then amazing Paella. With a bit of red wine left, we finished the dinner and the wine with dessert.

With all that we ate, we took the long way back to our room.  Which included steep steps down (and up) to the river, for a beautiful sunset and a bit more sightseeing.  Highly recommend Savannah for a visit.

More pictures of the city below.

Rush hour traffic, industrial areas and tractor trailers going to/from the second largest port in the United States (New York is the largest) made for a very hectic and especially noisy ride out of town.

Less than an hour of pedaling, we left the industry and congestion behind and pedaled on to Alligator Alley.

Across the fields and marshland we could still see the bridge that had been but a mile from our hotel. We knew we had to make this big circle to get out of town, but the sight of the bridge and hotels we’d just left was rather discouraging.

Once in South Carolina the road opened up to four lanes and shade; we thought it would be smooth sailing.  It was anything but; the very bumpy road had been well used and abused by the trucks.  The road smoothed when the trucks left for the faster pace of the interstate.  Once again we gained shade from the trees and even an occasional cloud shielded the sun, the difference could be as much as 10° cooler.  Especially pretty was a one mile stretch of road through Switzerland; who knew there was a Switzerland in South Carolina?  This state, however, is no more welcoming to bicyclists than Georgia had been; still no shoulder or bike lane.

After three hours of biking, we took a rest and refreshment break.  A half hour later we were back on the road.  Our last stretch was on a frontage road tightly tucked between the Interstate and railroad.  The noise was deafening and in stereo when a train passed, three times!  There was a slight separation from the highway before we had to climb over it to bike the other side.  Just short of checking in, we treated ourselves to a Frosty to celebrate our 53 mile day.  Even with the noisy ride and not much in scenery, it was a beautiful day.

Dinner was as unremarkable as today’s sightseeing, so no food pics.

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.