Wednesday, 15 November 2006:

Watched TV way too late last night and still woke up about 7:30. Motel coffee sucks. No, this is not yesterday's page, just the same thing since I seem not to learn from my mistakes. The load is still not staying put. Repacking and reloading the bike took me until 11:30! I definitely am carrying WAY too much stuff with me. The weather is holding beautifully.

I'm starting to get a feel for crusing, and I am getting to enjoy the scenery more. Speaking of which, the topography and geography definitely have transitioned to southern terrain. The soil is more sandy, and the dominant vegetation has changed to pine trees. I've moved about 20-40 miles inland but am crossing streams and rivers quite regularly. There is a huge storm system coming up from the southwest, packing very severe weather, high winds and drenching rains. The storm is very compact and rotating rapidly, and tornado watches have been posted all along its track. I'm keeping a weather eye out, so to speak. Still, for now it's bright sunshine, cool temps, and calm air.

My bike's fuel tank holds just under 4 gallons, with about 30% of that in the reserve section. When I start out with a full tank, I ride steady for about 75 miles or spasming back muscles, whichever comes first. I take a short break to stretch, replenish my intracellular fluids, and ingest vital nutrients. I am carrying those giant cans of Arizona tea in different flavors, trail mix, a hard salami and a block of swiss cheese, a couple of apples and pears, and some bread rolls. I eat just a little bit each time and drink down a 20-pounder of tea at each stop before taking off again. When the main fuel supply runs out it is dramatic, the bike just quits and starts to decelerate. I reach under the left side of the tank and turn the fuel petcock from main to reserve, and she starts running again. This usually happens around 130 miles on the trip odometer, and I begin looking for a gas station. When I stop again I refuel and take a longer break, sitting down and resting, eating and drinking a little, checking voicemail, chatting up the local yokels, and so on. I reset the trip odo and take off again.

The wind has been blowing pretty stiff as the weather system approaches, with the counter-clockwise rotation of the low pressure system translating into a right-front quartering wind as I head south. It is a real grind riding into this 20 mi/hr wind, gusting to 35 mi/hr at times. Blows me around a bit and it is killing my gas mileage, down from 50 mi/gal to 40 or so. This makes for more frequent fuel stops and reduces my average speed, not to mention beating me up some. On the other hand gas is about $2.05 in this area, so each fuel stop reduces my liquid assets only by about 6 bucks.

This is how it goes, mile after mile, hour after hour. I can tell the time without looking at my watch, as the sun is low in the sky ahead of me (winter time, ya know), and its position tracks the passing hours. As the day warms up, peaks, and cools down again I add or remove layers under my leathers and change from my fuzz-lined gauntlets to light riding gloves and back. It gets pretty chilly after sunset, and I don a balaclava under my helmet. The load is starting to ride a little better. Everything is tied down with about two dozen bright yellow bungees of varying lengths. I've got a few soft pieces in front of it roughly form-fitted to the shape of my back and am getting pretty good support in places, but I still haven' t got it super comfortable. It looks like the Beverly Hillbillies' pickup truck the way it is stacked up behind me, ludicrous really. I keep getting nonplussed comments from locals at rest stops. If only Ellie Mae were back there instead!! The learning curve is starting to flatten out a little, and I'd be having a great time if only my back didn't feel like I'd been pummeled with a baseball bat. I've really got to figure out this back support business. I was doing a lot better before I left my kidney belt in the motel room last night... Everything else is feeling pretty good, except my left wrist, which I have got wrapped up in an Ace bandage. Years of computer keyboards have taken their toll on that side, but not on the right side, oddly.

About sunset I crossed into South Carolina and immediately started to transit through Myrtle Beach. NEVER, NEVER take US 17 through that area unless you want a couple of hours of stop and go! I never knew how long, narrow, and ridiculously packed with people, traffic, and attractions this area is. It reminds me a lot of the Las Vegas Strip, Southern style. Cool place to visit though - I'm going to have to spend a little time there sometime. I stopped in Ridgeland, just north of the Georgia border and Savannah, again about 22:00. Another long day, 750 miles down, 400 to go.

Oh yeah, somewhere in the middle of SC I passed through Podunkville, a suburb of Crackertown. I passed a HUGE technicolor sign proudly touting a local diner - The Squat 'N Gobble... I was feeling a little peckish at the time, but I just cracked the throttle wide open and got out of there.

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