Ostrich Poop
I saw an ostrich poop. I named him Cheese because, well, you know it kinda looked like cheese. It was magnificent and repulsive all at the same time - an experience I think I will have a lot of throughout this trip, though hopefully not as feces-ridden. Anyway, since my first debacle with the gas leak about a week ago, Eyore and I have been cruising quite nicely (knock on wood). In fact, my biggest worry has been whether or not the light is going to change yellow when I'm too far away to make it through yet driving too "fast" for a gentle stop.
After Delaware we finally made it to Maryland on Day 2 and stayed in a rainy campsite on the water. Next, we moved down through Virginia to North Carolina where we experienced our coldest night yet: 22 degrees. Ice gripped the windows from the inside out as Eyore and I could see our every exhale in front of us. Yes, Honey does have propane heat, but I was determined to conserve the fuel. I suppose I wanted to prove to myself that we could make it through the night using blankets and (three) heating pads. Thankfully, with every drive further south, the nights become approximately 5 degrees warmer - thus, tonight I'm looking at 37 degrees and couldn't be happier!
We ended up staying in North Carolina another night, but not before I was able to meet up with my friend, Elizabeth and her mom for some Cracker Barrel brunch! It being my first time at the homey establishment, I was overwhelmed by the biscuits and corn bread, grateful for a filling - yet slightly unhealthy - meal. Seeing a friendly face on the road was a treat, and I was lucky enough to encounter another not too long after. But we're not in that state yet.
My trio moved further south within North Carolina to Carolina Beach State Park - my favorite campsite yet. I was able to drive around the barren grounds and pick my own location which happened to have a private trail that led to the bathrooms. Score! Never before have I been so thankful for running water and warm (not hot) showers. It's funny, when you're living day-to-day with working plumbing and electricity at your fingertips, it is easy to take for granted the fact that the water is hot or that you can shower without dawning a pair of plastic flip-flops. Now, I let out a sigh of relief when the warm water thaws my cool fingertips in the morning.
After a stunning starry night above the pines in NC, we headed to Charleston, South Carolina, where I met up with my friend, Will. As we reminisced over people from our camp years as adolescents and caught up on our current circumstances, he brought me around the colorful and quaint city. From the pineapple fountain to the porch swing on the bay, I was thrilled to enjoy the change in scenery! Nonetheless, when I found out that you can swim in the fountains, I was rightfully upset considering we were still bundled in hats and scarves. Another time.
From Charleston, I made it to Georgia where I have been unable to track down any peaches, BUT the line, "I really love your peaches/ Want to shake your tree" from Steve Miller Band's, "The Joker," came on just as I crossed the boarder. Georgia also lent me my first experience of being considered a "person of interest." I suppose my hiking attire did not mesh well with the elegance of Cracker Barrel where I stopped for a pee break, so I was eyed up and down as I made my way out. From the parking lot, Eyore and were then followed in a patrol truck as we stretched our legs. Breaking the law, breaking the law! (But not really). Now, I write with slightly warmer fingers from my picnic table overlooking some sort of body of water underneath a lushes palm tree. Life is good.
In other news: I deliberately passed my first car in the left lane in South Carolina - 'twas a momentous day for Honey. Despite this feat, I have grown accustomed to checking my speed when I pass cops now to make sure I'm not going too slow. Apparently the minimum speed on many of the roads is 45 mph; whatever happened to slow driving in the south? As someone who is unfortunately well-accustomed to the speeding ticket, this has been an utterly new way of life that I am learning to embrace. I hope all is well on your ends, and I wish you the equivalent experience of witnessing an ostrich relieve himself!
Until next time.
The largest dog was an English Mastiff who weighed 343 pounds.