Blue Boat Home

[posted to the Wheeled Migration Yahoo Group on March 7, 2005]

I spoke -- or wrote -- too soon in my negative assessment of the Savannah Hostel. Although you can see at hotel review sites that other people have had bad experiences with the manager as well, he warmed up as the weekend progressed, and I really enjoyed talking with the guests from around the world, and that made up for a lot.

I stayed at the hostel until lockout this morning (10:00) and then checked in on the Tree Climbing Championships on my way to church.

I took the recommendation of the folks from Alaska and went with them on a tour of the First Black Baptist Church, which was founded in 1775.  I missed the beginning of the tour, so I'm not clear on whether it was a stop on the Underground Railroad or a coordination center.  The best part of the tour was the guide, who has personally researched the history of the place and encouraged all her guests to question what they're taught in school about slavery and American history.  One curious feature of the church that's still being researched is Hebrew graffiti on the ends of the

I started out the morning by going to the visitor center, since there seemed to be a consensus that that was the place to go, but it turned out to be little more than a ticket counter for the many commercial tours available: you can see the historic district on foot, on a rented bike, in a horse-drawn carriage, or in a noisy diesel bus made to look like a trolley.

My second stop was City Market, which I hoped would be a farmers' market, but it's a pedestrian mall.  An Internet cafe there let me plug into the phone line, and I caught up with my e-mail over coffee.

[posted to the Wheeled Migration Yahoo Group on March 4, 2005]

Hi, folks! I made it to Savannah a day earlier than I had planned, and I'll be here at least until Sunday.

I got up bright and early, thanks partly to the cold, but didn't freeze my extremities this time.  I followed US-280 east from Reidsville to Pembroke, postponing as long as possible the question of whether I would stay the night there or continue to Savannah.  I decided to go for it, even though it meant a 65-mile day, because there was a hostel waiting for me, and I fully expected it to be as nice as Pirate Haus.

When the night started getting cold, a draft blew in under the door of the social hall and made it at least as chilly as my tent would have been... maybe more so, because my tent fills with body heat.  I didn't turn on the thermostat because there was a big sign saying not to touch it, so I just froze.  My fingertips and toes regained their feeling around noon.

Today was windy!  I had a fierce headwind most of the morning, but then it turned and pushed me in the afternoon, which was a lot better than the other way around.

Today was uneventful, except that I missed a turn and found my own route for a while.  I think it may have been more direct, less trafficked, and better shouldered than the route I was supposed to take, but of course I can't be sure.

33.5 mi

I took my good sweet time leaving the hotel this morning in the hopes that the rain would stop, but eventually I had to go out and get wet.  The rain kept right up all day long, without a single pause.

I stopped for lunch right across the border in St. George, Georgia, at a little place that was only accessible via a dirt road that had turned to an inch of mud.  The locals assured me that was nothing, that by tomorrow it would be about 3 inches deep, and cars would get stuck in it.  But the BBQ sandwich was worth the trouble.