We left Orange Park, Florida early, 5:30AM heading north to Daytona Beach arriving in time to see the sun rise on the beach. Daytona beach holds many fond memories; on the hook in the small boat basin on “Swallow” my 33 foot Polish built wooden cutter, riding my bike up and down the beach, cycling with the racers between Daytona Beach and Ormond Beach on my Raleigh Record, being informed that if I wanted to be fast, the first thing I need to do is buy a bike. I was crushed, my Raleigh was a bike, I was young, in my late twenties and foot loose and fancy free. Daytona Beach has changed a great deal since then; I remembered mom and pop motels, now Hilton, Embassy Suites, Days Inn and my favorite LaPlaya; who chose that name?

The ride north on A1A was fantastic with a nice tailwind allowing us to ride 82 miles and arrive early at Anastasia State Park located between St. Augustine and Jacksonville and its adjoining beautiful white sand beach. We did what any normal tired cyclist would do after riding 82 miles, went for 5 mile walk on the beach following a quick stop at the local convenience store to pick up the necessary hydration, 32 ounces of water for Christine and 2-24 ounce Heinekens in the can for me. The northern coast of Florida is beautiful and unchanged; the McManisions have not arrived.

There is a price to pay for all the beauty we have enjoyed riding on A1A in northern Florida; we are about to find out what the cost will be. From the northern most point of A1A north of Jacksonville Beach, Florida a ferry ride crosses the St. Johns River, with an 18 mile ride due west landing us in Yulee, Florida. A1A has a dramatic change of scenery, a four lane divided highway with a very narrow shoulder, more traffic than I-40 during rush hour with one difference, more logging and gravel trucks than cars. We arrive just in time to encounter a huge traffic jam; a log truck has rolled over in the median blocking traffic in both directions. Now this is a bad scene for everyone except us, the stopped traffic will allow us to ride on the 3 foot shoulder without trucks passing within 2 feet at 65 miles per hour to our destination, Lofton Creek Campground. We cross the bridge over Lofton Creek and find our camp on the left, discussing how wonderful a peaceful campsite beside the creek will be after a horrifying ride along this stretch of A1A. We are greeted by the manager of the campground, a pleasant lady caring for her daughter’s 2 week old baby, welcoming us to Yulee. “Camp anywhere in that grassy area you choose”, she states, “electric and water are right on the post”. “May we go a little further back to get away from the highway and these mercury vapor lights”? “I don’t recommend going back there, they stay up late and sometimes are noisy, best to stay up here”. Now if you ever wondered where motor homes end up when their motors “don’t run no more” check out Lofton Creek Campground, a variety of mostly men whose motor home engines “don’t run no more”. We set up camp, charge batteries, make dinner, shower and in the tent for a peaceful night’s sleep. Imagine camping in the median of I-75 north of Atlanta during the peak rush hour, that’s what we have here, the car traffic did decrease significantly, only to allow more log and gravel trucks. We are concerned about the ride tomorrow, riding west on the highway that does not appear to have any law enforcement and the 3 foot shoulder; needless to say it was not a restful night.

We decided to leave very early to try to avoid the traffic; we are informed by one of the permanent campers whose motor “don’t run no more” that the traffic begins to get heavy by 5:00AM. We are on the road by 4:30 for the 31 mile ride on the road from hell that will lead us into Georgia to a stop for coffee at a small café, the only café or restaurant, in St. George, Georgia. We’ve ridden much further than our normal distance. We were just too terrified to waste any time with the simple pleasures, the log trucks are coming. A warm reception by our waitress and a good cup of coffee now finds us a bit more relaxed after the previous 31 miles of logging trucks. We will head north on Georgia Highway 121 to Folkston, Georgia. We are ready to attempt the final 41 miles when greeted by a log truck driver that asks,”you riding north on 121”? I reply, “That’s the only way to get to where we want to go”. “Be careful, there are a lot of crazy drivers on 121”. We begin, there in not a shoulder to ride on so we must stand our ground on the road, there is not a car in sight and I wonder what this man is talking about. We soon discover what he was referring too, guys like him, driving log trucks and gravel trucks fully loaded heading in both directions at full speed. I don’t know how fast they will go wide open but that is how fast they are moving. We are now visualizing two log trucks going as fast as they will go having a head on collision while trying to avoid a couple of old cyclists heading to Maine or will they choose to gently move us into the ditch with the overhang on the trailer?

We make it to Folkston, Georgia totally horrified and set up camp at very peaceful state campground, of course it’s peaceful; anything short of open-heart surgery would be peaceful after what we had just been through. A good night’s sleep and we are set for a long 82 mile ride to Happy Acres Campground in Odum, Georgia, our only choice within the next 115 miles. Christine is now fantasizing about Happy Acres; the name itself puts a smile on her face. We arrive and are greeted by Steve, the owner, and are informed that this campground has been closed since 2005. “I never turn away cyclists; pick any spot beyond that old truck. Water is at any spigot and I’ll turn on the hot water in the shower house, none of the electrical outlets work, you can charge your phones in the house”. “Hey Steve these spigots don’t work, what about the hot showers?” “Oh, I remember, they where turned off two years ago, I’ll turn on the hot water in the showers”. Christine showered under the hose attached to Steve’s house and I decided I didn’t need a shower after Christine had explored the abandoned shower building. Steve claims he stopped operating his RV Park because the property taxes are too high with the new assessment in 2004, taxes went up 700%.

Another long day ahead, over 80 miles to Statesboro, Georgia, home of Southern Georgia University, and a much needed day of rest. We pulled into Parkwood RV Park kind of beat up and tired, we are greeted by Lisa, the owner and operator of the park. She offered us a motel room for $39.00 a night, we needed two nights, “we’ll just stay in our tent”. Big mistake, way too hot to nap, the campsite was in the sun and we had a lot of work to do on our day off. Just as things are looking down a gentleman introduced himself, “Hi, I’m Van from the Villages, you know the Villages in Florida, where are you going”? “Bangor, Maine”. “Come on over to our coach, the green one right in front of your site, meet my wife Joy and join us for a cocktail”. “What time”? “Anytime you want”. Nice folks, visiting their daughter and new baby in Statesboro and working their way through a slight disagreement on the terms of a contract, I shall not go into detail other than to say that both parties to the contract are attorneys, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. “Take our car to Wal-Mart and use it for whatever you may need to do, go out to dinner, we don’t need it”. Two Bud Lights later, Christine had tea, following the routing on that Garmin 76CXs finds us enjoying Greek salads and pizza in the local Greek restaurant after a successful visit to Wal-Mart and Starbucks. We did manage to do all of the chores and catch up on much needed rest the following day.

The route continues west into South Carolina, the destination is the Point South KOA, in Point South, South Carolina at the intersection of 17A and I-95. At a stop for coffee at Tommy’s in Kildare, Georgia we are warned about an approaching storm from the south, “it looks like it may be a severe thunderstorm”, Tommy warns. Maybe we can stay in front of it so after sampling some honey from Chris and repairing Christine’s tire, lack of air caused by a puncture in the tube, we set off for Point South KOA. Upon arrival and after check in the rain began, the tent is set up in light rain and we feel all is well, the sky dumped, 2-3 inches of rain in less than 3 hours finding our tent floating in 4 inches of water, not one drop inside. “You all can sleep in the shelter if you like”, the manager offers, we did. We washed the tent the next day and set off for Andrews, South Carolina, a 78 miles ride. You should never have a reason to visit Andrews and if you do find an excuse to pass it up; Andrews is one of those places where time has stood still, for a good reason. We where warned in Walterboro not to camp in Andrews, too dangerous, drug activity; we checked into the only local motel for our second night of air conditioned sleep since the tour began on May 1.

We will now leave South Carolina and enter North Carolina, the final good bye was on Highway 17 through North Myrtle Beach, and a memorable goodbye it was, you know Highway 17 in North Myrtle Beach, think I-40 during rush hour without a shoulder. Captain Andy welcomed us to his Campground in Calabash, North Caroline with a wonderful waterside site overlooking the haystacks in the waterway, shaded picnic table and a hot shower.

After much discussion on whether to visit our friends in Wrightsville Beach, 20 bonus miles out of the way or continue on the planned route and stay in Carolina Beach State Park, the conclusion was to stay two nights in Carolina Beach. We had a blast, Gary and Debi came from Wrightsville Beach to join us for dinner, a marginal meal, slow and inattentive service with small tasteless portions, the company of our good friends made this dining experience enjoyable. The following day reintroduced us to life as it is at Carolina Beach including the fishing pier at Kure Beach, a rare opportunity to see a slice of life that may only exist is this area. We highly recommend a visit to the Kure Beach Fishing Pier and the arcade in Carolina Beach, a sample of North Carolina beach life at its finest; have a donut at Britt’s.

A relatively short ride is planned from Carolina Beach for an early arrival in Surf City; we will be camping on the waterway at Lanier’s Family Campground. The day was made longer by my error in navigation adding 12 bonus miles to the ride, now 68 miles of riding versus 56, not an early arrival as planned but made up for by the fresh catch tuna steak from the local fish market in Surf City. I prepared it rare with just salt and pepper on our propane camping stove and a fresh garden salad was prepared by Christine, maybe I should go back to Carolina Beach and let the cook taste this. Our neighbor at the campsite warns of a low pressure system to the south that will cause rain and high winds from the north, this is not good when heading in a northerly direction; he was correct in that prediction. We set of for Sea Level, North Carolina, a 64 mile ride only to be cut short by high winds that reduced our speed to 8 mph or less and beating us up; the ride ended after 49 miles in Otway, North Carolina. We settled back to sit it out for a couple of days, enjoying the hospitality of the campground owner, Becky and her husband. Christine has gone to the Food Lion with Becky and I now have time to write this blog. We will be off tomorrow, riding to Cedar Island and boarding the ferry to Okracoke to begin the ride up the Outer Banks onto the Delmarva Peninsula. We now have ridden 1,537 miles and pray the winds will turn to the south and the fresh caught fish are found.