From Bulldogs to Tigers, oh my!

(There Tom, we'll get the sports reference out of the way right up front. Georgia fans (UG) are about as rabid a fan base as they come (the first time BSU came down to play them one of the players talked about the bus ride through town and they went past a bunch of Georgia fans with the BSU team bus. A 80+ year old lady flipped them the bird!). I started my day in Georgia and am now in the homeland of the Clemson Tigers.

I had a very interesting day in a number of small ways that probably won't mean much to many who read this, but let me detail it anyway.

The day started rather early (early enough that I woke up the resident front desk clerk to check out at 7) in an attempt to get ahead of the heat which was predicted to be in the high 90's. The early riding was delightful. Much of the path was lined with 100 foot (?) tall trees which funneled a cool breeze down the road but blocked the sun to a large degree. The coastal area of Georgia is a lot of swamps marshes and bogs divided by a few roads that run perpendicular from highway 17 (my chosen route) to the coast, where you find a number of communities, Savannah and Hilton Head among them. As for a route that follows the coast, forget about it. To access each town/city you must go inland to highway 17. So my course for much of the day was devoid of cool ocean breezes. Highway 17 therefore crosses a lot of bridges as it spans these rivers, some large, some small.

This was a mid-sized river with several boats on it

This is the bridge to Jekyl Island, giving easy access to traffic, so you can Jekyl, but you can't Hyde!

The one thing most of these rivers had in common was boats. The larger the river the larger the vessel, but here was usually someone(s) fishing. One somewhat smaller bridge was unique in that there was a fishing bridge directly adjacent to it with built in seats facing the small space between the fishing bridge and the road. So the people sat with their poles in the gap between the bridges, facing traffic instead of having their back to the cars like would be more common.

By 10:30 I had made it to Savannah and with only one U-Turn was able to find the visitors center! I had two items on my agenda for Savannah. Most everyone that reads this will already know that Betty spent a great deal of her adult life working with/for the Girl Scouts. She started as a leader for her won daughters, then when we moved to I Dahomey she was a Service Unit Director (a leader for the leaders). She spent so much time at the Council Office that Susan Hazelton talked her into applying for the Council Registrar position when it became available. She got the job and gave her heart and soul to it for ten years while simultaneously continuing much of her volunteer work. I'm sure it is no stretch of the imagination to say that she had a hand in several of her Granddaughters becoming Girl Scouts.

So to pass through Savannah Georgia and not stop to see the birthplace of Juliette Low was not an option. She would have unleashed the wrath of God on me had I not stopped!

What I did not know was that June is High Season for Girl Scouts and all of the tours were booked solid, for the rest of the week! I did get into the "museum" which was actually a gift shop.

So when I left there I had about a half hour before the second item on my to-do list was ready. I had purchased a ticket for a guided tour of Historical Savannah in a horse drawn carriage (which is not the same as a stage coach and therefore counts on my list of transportation conveyances). So I pulled out their map to see what cross street I needed to turn on to get to the Hyatt Hotel, where the tour was to commence. I got a chuckle from my discovery that my direction of travel was to be on Whittaker Street. To explain, Ron Whittaker and I hiked over half of the Idaho Centennial Trail together, often getting lost or, as Daniel Boone put it, mighty confused for long periods of time, not lost. Ron always referred to our navigating skills as those of Doofus and Lark, the two great explorers. (side note: Ron just wrote and published a book of his, and in many cases our, exploits on the ICT. It is titled In Search of the Flat-Ness Monster. If you'd like a copy, let me know). Here is our now famous trail finding Doofus and Lark pose

Like I said, I got a chuckle out of thinking of Whittaker being my guide. It turned to a full laugh when I got down the street and found Whittaker, a one-way street going the wrong way!

Despite the map I was given, I had some difficulty finding the Hyatt (big surprise, huh Ron?) but managed to find it with about ten minutes to spare. But there was a complication. Because of the heat the City of Savannah, who owns the horses, has been under pressure from animal lovers to take care of e horses. So the city would not et he horses work if the heat index (the feels-like temperature that takes into account temperature and humidity) hits 110 degrees. It was currently at 109, so it may or may not "go".

The horses came in from their previous runs and they were hosed down and given a five gallon bucket to drink from. Then they checked their core temperature with a horse sized rectal thermometer!

All was fine so we loaded up.

The guy in the back is in the witness protection program

Weald front row seats for many of the historical sites as well as several set locations used in Forest Gump (the church steeple used for the "feather" scene and the bus stop bench where the "Life is like a box of chocolates" line was delivered. We made it to the southern most part of the tour and made the turn for home near the site where Juliette Low held her first Girl Scout meeting at her in-laws house, when the tour guide got a call on his two way radio. The heat index hit 110 degrees and the city shut the tour down. They take great care of the horses but the Senior Citizens on the trip had to walk 14 blocks back to our vehicles! We need a better Union!

So I sort of struck out there too.I was actually able o go back to where I bought the ticket and get a refund, so that was okay. Then it was back on the road, up and over the Savannah River and, half way across the second half of it (it's in two pieces onto and off of an island), was the state line sign. So I pulled over on the South Carolina side, thinking I was going to have to walk back half way across the bridge to get my picture. But as I got off the bike I saw the "Welcome To" sign nearby. So I got out my new selfie stick (only kidding) and took a picture.

I also got the normal picture

The heat was really bad and made it difficult to continue but I really wanted to make it further down the road to stay on a "schedule" that will put me in Washington D.C. on Saturday so that Tim is not working (Tim as in little Bro #3, not Tim as in Tim McGraw who is on every juke box and radio station down here).

I made a stop at a drug store to get something for my now blistered and peeling wrists and had an unusual encounter in the parking lot. A nice lady came over, ear buds in her ears and she's saying "It's the prettiest yellow I've ever seen". (Carol, take note). Then, to me, "I love your bike. Where are you from? My sister is in my ear and wants to know where you're from."

I told her and she replied that her sister, on the other end of the phone, is in Burns, Oregon, where I was on April 26th. She then saw the picture of Betty and said she was so moved that she wanted to pray for me, if that was okay. I said it as fine, forgettingI am in the Bible Belt, and before you can say Hallelujah I was holding hands with this lady in the parking lot while she said a very nice prayer for Betty and me, then with a hug, this total stranger wished me luck and was on her way. I was moved. It was a little strange but very thoughtful and kind.

Further down the road I went past a sign that made me grin in recognition. 

So here is the trivia question, no cheating and looking it up with Google or the like. Does anyone know/remember the nick name of who the sign was referencing? The sign said Francis Marion National Forest.

Hint: His better known nickname was the name of a TV show circa 1960 about his exploits.

For a brief distance, maybe 1/8 to 1/4 mile, the highway suddenly turned into something very similar to the mountain road I rode on back in Northern California. At that time I wasn't able to take a picture for safety reasons. This time I thought it safer because the trees were back further from the road, the road was wider and the canopy was less densely packed. Still, it was beautiful.

I believe these were oak trees but couldn't see the leaves clearly. The moss hanging gave it a creepy look, but I loved it!

So that's it for now. I'm spending the night in Georgetown, S.C., which is historical in it's own right, but not for basketball.