Cycle Across America — Part 17
Goldsboro, NC to Fayetteville, NC
Excerpts from the journal of my 1996 solo cycle across the US. Read the entire story from the introduction in Boston or see links to all segments of the trip.
[Note: This journal entry was made by an audio tape recording]
Sunday the 18th. Turned Half six in the evening. At a soccer complex in Fayetteville, trying to hook up with my cousin from Dublin.
The lack of traffic today was good. I’m enjoying North Carolina. Typically there’s just a lot of swamps, a lot of trees. A lot of trees with foliage only at the top, the higher bits, and then the bottom bits are barren and a lot of them have been pushed over by various winds, uprooted or broken.
It was a straight run out of Goldsboro, through Mount Olive and Calypso — hey! — and at Faison I turned, which alas meant I was bypassing both Warsaw and Turkey.
Swamps everywhere, lots of little bridges with weight limits. On a small road you could have 3, 4 bridges in a row, in a 200-metre stretch. And they’ll all have different weight limits on them. The limits could be from 14 tons to 28 tons for a single vehicle, and more again if you’re one with a trailer. They’re going over creeks which are basically swamps.
Again, tons of tobacco today. Cotton and peanuts and corn. Loads of it. A lot of the wildflower, and just thick growth, all sorts of stuff. It’s got a rugged feel to it, North Carolina. The trees today, although there was a lot, were nothing like the first day up in the North Eastern section where they were just huge and you felt like they owned the place and humans just borrowed a little bit to get through it.
When it was thundering I was trying to get off the busy road with no shoulder. I could see some maps at this garage shop so I went in, threw out a spiel at the Mexican bloke about secondary roads and maps. He’s looking at me until I finish, and he says,
–I have not got a clue what on earth you are talking about.
So I apologised and explained very slowly and tried to slow down.
–You speak too fast man! Where are you from
So I told him. And I apologized that with not talking to people all day, because I’m on the bicycle. I didn’t bother explaining to him that I might be on a bit of a high, adrenaline just whizzing through me, and I just gibber anyway — even if it was to somebody who could understand me.
However today at lunch in a Hardees, this fella, I couldn’t understand what he was saying at all and it wasn’t the Southern accent. He had a speech problem. Nobody could understand him, but in the end I stopped saying I’m sorry and realised that whatever he’s talking about he was asking me questions. He was gesturing at my bike outside the window, and so I proceeded to answer questions that I guessed he might be asking me, but I honestly didn’t understand a single word he said.
In Hardees I had a great big burger of some description. I had a Boss Combo, the ‘Boss’ being their big burger, with drink and fries.
-Regular or crispy-curl, sir?
It’s got to be crispy-curls. A lot of them are just bent like bananas but some of them are spiralled all the way around, maybe four or five revolutions. They’re also a bit seasoned in like barbecuey stuff. They were grand. They were spuds. I only had 30 miles to go at this stage.
I’d had a large breakfast earlier on in McDonald’s. I had a Bacon, Egg & Cheese Biscuit; and a Bacon, Egg & Cheese Muffin — though I only wanted an Egg Muffin; and I got a milkshake for the first time — since the big long day in France 4 years ago when I cycled 120 miles.
And I had a ‘Hot Tea’. They had to have a committee meeting about the hot tea, even though it was up on the menu. It took them ages to come together and get someone who could arrange to make it and then give it to me.
People chatted to me today. Again nearly all black people. Asking me about this and that. What I’d done, where I’m going. That kind of stuff.
Went through Clinton. Reckon there are more towns in America called Clinton than there are called Dole. Then Roseboro and Salemburg. I was really twisting around a lot by getting on some of the secondary roads.
Two fellas stopped at a garage. Both of them black. One of them, he was great, he understood everything I said. The other fella was lost. The fella who was great told me basically to go in a certain way and avoid — I was on 24 and it was busy now and there was no shoulder — but to go in on so and so, and it would get me another 8 miles down the road. So I did that, and that was great. Again just swamps and crops.
One thing about North Carolina is they have these great big wooden sheds. They’re totally square at the bottom and rectangular oblongs as they go up, maybe with a corrugated roof or a wooden roof, rotten.
A lot of houses are like that as well out here, but one thing is –and maybe they’ve been painted, maybe they haven’t been, and if they have been painted they’ve certainly faded. But they have trees and bushes growing around them, up the outside of them, inside them out, and they seem to be kind of tended to.
Certainly the crops around them are squared off. Maybe the grass around them is tended to very closely. So these things are like monuments or extremely elaborate flowerpots. I think they’re fabulous. Tons of them yesterday particularly. Not so much today.
The mosquito bites went mad today, except for my arm where I left stuff on.
When I went into your man in the garage there was thunder all around. It was quite horrible. I was afraid. It was just so dark. All the cars had their lights on from 4 o’clock today. Visibility was bad. I was glad I had my blaze orange vest with me but I didn’t like then. I was way too nervous. Thankfully then the road opened up and there was a three-foot shoulder. Big, big road with a central reservation.
I used my mirror extensively today. I didn’t turn around so much. And before that shoulder appear I pulled in about ten times. I actually looked behind me physically twice or three times today. Yesterday I did it hundreds and hundreds of times and I stopped, pulled over, over a hundred times.
There was a hawk which flew out of the bushes today. Some dead big birds beside it. I don’t know what they were. Perhaps they were turkeys or vultures — they were white. I passed an ostrich farm, which was good fun. There seemed to be 2 to a pen. There was only about a dozen of them.
Autryville and Stedson were the last places on the road coming into Fayetteville.
Yeah while I think of it, reading the Sunday papers this morning, the North Carolina section. There was a sheriff in a county I didn’t go through (I went through lots of counties today including Duplin, which is actually what the policeman put down on my accident report. If I’d known that I’d have made sure he got it right). And the sheriff who, inspired by the Grand Canyon recently, the colours of it and how it made him feel, has painted, 2 or 3 of his cells, in the jail pink. He got the inmates or who was ever there, to paint it pink. And then he got his sergeant to, using a stencil, to put blue Teddy Bears all over it.
He reckons it’s hard for them to get aggressive when it’s like that. There was a lawyer who said it might be sickening but it’s probably not against the Constitutional rights. He’d checked it out. This was allowable. And the same sheriff, seemingly when he got in, within hours of being in, he took away all the televisions. And then he got all the prisoners to wear black and white striped stuff when they’re working out on the road. And he himself dresses in black military uniform.
The only other article I read of interest in the paper — one about this part of the world — was the Little Bighorn memorial to the Indians, which they’re having a competition for at the moment. Something like two and a half million dollars to decide what format it will take. But there’s a lot of people don’t want it. There’s been death threats about it, because it’s for people who were against the United States government. The three tribes, the Lakota Sioux, the Northern Cheyennes, and some Arapahoe, of which about 50 were killed as opposed to the 260 or so U.S. Cavalry who were wiped out. It said I think it was Bush who put it in legislation, to change the battlefield’s name from the “Custer Battlefield” to the “Little Bighorn Battlefield”. Up to then it had been the only one in the country, when it became a National Memorial that is, that was actually called after a person — which was the persona of Custer, General, and then back to Colonel again after the Civil War.
The Little Bighorn is not quite on my route. I’ll go up near there but not exactly. Unless I do the detour, which is to stay north and go for the coast. It’s possible.
It’s hard to visualise me getting to Kansas City at all at the moment. I’m in a lot of pain. My head’s still messed up.
I’ve been trying to put it into percentage terms the enjoying of the trip. Prior to being knocked down I enjoyed 100%. Every day. No matter what was going on. 100% enjoyment. Including days like New York to Philadelphia which were all built up and yukky and you’ve loads of concerns about the traffic, and they always existed, and some scary moments. I still enjoyed it 100%.
First day back after the accident, that day trying to get back to Virginia Beach when I didn’t make it, I reckoned 5% enjoyment. I’m reluctant to say as much as 5%, but I did read every single historical placard I passed. There was a couple of dozen, if not more. Plantations, Civil War, Bacon’s Rebellion, Indians. Indians get a mention quite a lot to be honest. So that was part of the 5%. The other part was Surry. A nice little community, the village itself, or the town, that’s the turn off for the James River Ferry, I think. Surry without an ‘e’. And also the diner. The lovely woman. Indeed all the women in there were good, where I had a sub. There was a soap on television. And it was lovely and cool. It was tiled. A good diner.
And the next day it went up a lot. When the shoulder got a bit wider and I got more comfortable turning around looking backwards trying to make eye contact with every single driver. And then ultimately when I stopped at the B&B. And the B&B made up for so much. Frank and Delia were great. Being on a farm. So I’d say about 40% that day.
But yesterday picked up a bit more. The motel was good. The swimming was good for the leg I think. I certainly felt a lot better last night than I did the previous night. And I feel ok now. Mainly because it was a wind-down coming into Fayetteville. Yeah you had to watch yourself with the traffic, but I did well. I had caught up on my carbohydrates today after the traditional food at the B&B, which meant today felt a lot easier energy-side.
My average speed today was down to 11.6. Really it should be up over the 12 to be honest. It makes a big difference. To look at one day, it would be an extra 15 miles, doing the better average speed. Which is the difference between a 75 and a 90. It’s substantial, particularly if I’m going to lose daylight when it does get clouding over.
Today with the use of the mirror, and the less volume of traffic because it’s Sunday — well, when traffic is coming up your bum, not moving over, you just pull into the shore and half fall over. Unfortunately I was forced off the road before that where I went into thick heavy sand muck stuff, which made a mess of the bike — so I went looking for puddles and went around and around in circles. It’s more or less clean now. It’s just kind of splattered on the frame, but I’ve got all the heavy stuff off the brake blocks and the wheels. Don’t want to turn up at a stranger’s place with a bike covered in mud.
So I would say 80% for today. I still have reservations about the traffic. And I still need to look in that mirror. I look in it quite a lot. I need to know what’s coming up behind me. Every single thing. Two cars have gone past me in the last 2 days that I wasn’t expecting, that I hadn’t turned around and seen or spotted in the mirror, both of them put the fear of god into me. Over and above what every car does anyway when they passed. When they just make that noise as they go past, I’m right back there, right back in the crash when it’s going through me and I’m going flying, and I’m dying, and it’s very hard to cycle, in those circumstances. So only 80%.
Looking at the map for tomorrow, getting out of here is going to be a mess. In the traffic. I suppose I’ll just roll back the horrible big road. No option. Into the centre of it. I don’t know where I’m aiming for. Cheraw or Bennettsville, which were options I had down, look actually too near, which is probably a good thing because I think Colombia the next day is 106. I don’t want to go to Columbia anymore.
I don’t want to go to these places, because it’s such a hassle getting into them. For miles out you get these big roads which are just dangerous, and then when you get into them it’s very hard to find the centre. These are not European places. And there might be nothing there.
I don’t care about the centre of Fayetteville anymore. I want to keep this rural, small-town. Even smaller-town. I know I’m going to Atlanta, but I won’t be spending an extra day there now that I’m catching up — so that’ll probably be a suburban trip. I don’t care. I’m not interested in built-up areas any more. If I can stay out and about — great. I need a better map of South Carolina. And perhaps of Georgia.
The map I looked at in the shop today had some more secondary roads than I have on mine, but it didn’t have numbers on them — it was not good. It was one of North and South Carolina combined but it wasn’t worth spending a few dollars on. Unlike my under-eight-dollar mirror.
No real dogs chased me today. I was chased by a Rottweiler yesterday, which was rather interesting. The tactic I used there was to slow right down and talk to him. And he kind of let off steam. I was less of a target. I talked to him and was friendly. And he went, eh? It hasn’t been too bad lately for dogs. Nothing as aggressive as the Eastern Shore when I was at my physical best and I could let a dog come up to me and just push up the speed gradually. I didn’t have to go mad, because well if you do go mad and give it all, if you run out you’re in trouble — you’ve got nothing left to give. But also if the dog goes mad he might get you, so it’s best to let him come to you and just about out do him, holding something in reserve the whole time. So I did that a lot.
I made contact with my cousin on the phone as I came in here about 45 minutes ago. He lives a good bit out, probably the worst possible place in Fayetteville because I’m going to have to go right back in and out the far side so, through the north of it, when leaving. He lives just off the 401, a big highway. Just been to his place. Two lads there. They were wondering who the hell I am and what I’m doing here.
I think he’s on a scholarship. Carl. I can’t remember. There was a failing in communication in the family. We’ve enough first cousins without trying to keep up with second cousins. Or even know who they are. So he hadn’t got a clue who the hell I was. Or what I was talking about. A bit like the Mexican chap in the garage.
There’s a group of people over there playing soccer at the moment, training, running around, heading the ball. I was told he’ll be playing for another 20 minutes. They’re about 200 metres away up on a pitch. I’m not bringing the bike up a bank. I can wait.
There’s tons of apartments around here and they look really nice. Some of them have wooden steps and decks up above them. The lads live in complexes of maybe six or seven. I wonder if I can stay? What to do with my bike? I’d be worried about it. Though it’s a nice place. Once you turn off that road, the 401. Treetop Drive is straight off the 401 but it’s nice.
And now I’m here, what’s going to happen? On the phone Carl said beers at a friends later. It’s turned seven now so I probably won’t be long. They’re doing elaborate exercises of long crossing and then catching and controlling and juggling, as far as I can work out.
I’m assuming Carl hasn’t got a car because he lives a minute’s walk away. There’s a car with an Irish plate on the front. And a girl in it. With red hair. They can put anything on the front they like.
The lads are still training. What’s going on? I hope I’m not stranded here, in the dark.
Ok, that’s enough of this.
I did 85 miles today from Goldsboro. My map is in tatters. Like me.
Read the Next Segment: Part 18 — Fayettesville, NC to Bennettsville, SC
See: links to all segments of the trip
Read from the beginning of the trip in Boston
