Over a pint of Guinness my two good friends, Charles Layton head chef at Basic Kitchen and Zach Thompson a filmmaker, invited me on a bike ride from Charleston, SC to Augusta, GA which is Zach’s hometown. They had mapped out a route which spanned 158 miles over two days of riding through the South Carolina countryside, of course I obliged. Charlie being an oarsman that has rowed the Atlantic was pretty much the only experienced endurance athlete, myself having just thrown baseballs as my athletic prowess and Zach who himself is on an incredible fitness journey, we were basically rookies of the road. Overpacked and absolutely giddy we left Charleston at around 7:30am Saturday morning.
“I’ve got to warn you boys, I’ve had beans and rice and am a bit gassy” said Charlie before we set off. He wasn’t lying as the first five minutes in I was in his flatulence slip stream. Our first of many stops happened exactly 0.4 miles in to the 83.1 we were expected to do day one. Loading up on provisions, Charles was the mule with his dual bright yellow pannier bags, that were holding my shoes much to his chagrin, good lad. After our first stop and with the excitement of the start of a journey brewing, the rain came.
And didn’t stop.
The first two hours, it rained and then rained with a spot of rain. Charlie being from dreary England was quoted as saying “It’s quite lovely when you think about it.” To which I replied “It just isn’t is it?” And for about 15 miles I feared that the whole trip I was just going to be wet. Then it became too much and I took my first visit to a church in a very long time to seek shelter.
We made the decision to just get on with it after some snacks and a Red Bull. So we put our heads down in hope that we came across the comfort of that big yellow sign with black letters that reads “Waffle House”
We did not stumble upon the awful waffle, instead we trekked it to Walterboro. For some reason the three of us in our delirium thought we were in another country. Staring at the exposed beams of the Deli we were in making comments like “The architecture here is amazing!” Zach even saw a painting in a shop and excitedly told us “They have a painting of the Charleston market here!” “Oh no way!” we replied. Only for five minutes later I realized “Boys we are less than 30 miles from downtown.”
Then the doldrums of the long straight roads set in. My bike was the lightest so naturally I went ahead of Charlie and Zach and from there the mind starts to wonder and you take in what is around you with clear sober eyes. As you put distance from Charleston, life looks quite simple around you. You pass through towns that aren’t quite towns anymore, decimated by the lack of passerby’s and you see how a new interstate and highway can kill a towns economy. You see that some people break their backs to earn a living, growing things from the Earth and feeding the people. Goats have replaced lawn mowers, pastures of cows, an enclosure with an angry bull, curious dogs, happy dogs, angry dogs, dead snakes, dead deer, buzzards and houses with no one in them but sixty years of stuff in the yards. Dollar Generals become meccas that you take pilgrimage to and you still say aloud every time even by yourself “HORSES!” As you slowly pass them you see them in their uninterrupted beauty, powerful jaws grazing, legs that generate so much force and you feel their gentle aura as you silently admire. The world isn’t yours anymore, you become a small part of it. Unlike being in a car, the animals now can hear you and smell you and choose to let you go by unbothered, noble they are really, the animals.
We stop again for a water break and Charlie and I ride together on the smoothest new pavement and now it’s on, full tilt to the next stop. We ride at a breakneck speed trading who is up front and creating a slip, Charlie is pushing his heavy bike at an impressive pace that makes for great fun. Zach is behind us doing what creators do, finding moments that most would find ordinary and creating magic behind his lens. If Coors is the champagne of beer then Coke is the rocket fuel of all sports drinks and for the final push we stop at an old country store to get one. Charlie being an Englishman was fascinated by the fact they sold ammo behind the counter.
On to Fairfax, SC for the nights stop. Tired legs and high spirits we walk into town with Govan’s Soul Food being the only place open. It beat all expectations as we crash a birthday party of what appeared to be the owner of the joint. The theme of the party was “Diamonds and Denim” and we were clearly underdressed but they let us in anyway. The guest of honor made a grand entrance and we were welcomed “into the family” as she made an electric speech. “Welcome to THE party, my 55th, double nickels, the old speed limit, if you’re here then you’re my people and let’s party.” Then she proceeded to sing a rendition of Killing them Softly that with your eyes closed could have been the original. We ate like kings and walked it off back home and watched Ryan Gosling land on the moon before drifting off into a hard earned slumber.
Day two started with Charlie announcing he was wearing a Flamingo jersey, fair play. We pedaled to a hearty Hardees brekky and cycled like mad to the Savannah River Site. A forty mile stretch of nothing, just you and your thoughts. The mindlessness was broken up by a good thirty minutes of Charlie singing Irish pub songs and then he and I doing our best Irish impressions. I had googled that we were riding through a nuclear reactor site, they were very secretive and didn’t like you stopping on the roads.
“What are they doing here” asked Charlie.
“Making heavy water” I say
“What the fuck is heavy water?”
The lunch stop was in a village called Jackson. The only place was a Subway on top of a never ending slightly increasing sloped road, the sandwiches provided the nourishment we needed for the last twenty five miles of the trip. My sore arse cheeks were the only part of me wanting the trip to end as I was enjoying being out there with two great friends.
As we crossed into Georgia the sketchiest thing happened, my phone was on a center mount and I hit the bridge at the state line at great speeds and my phone decided it had enough and made a jump for it. To which I had to slam on brakes and wait for traffic to pass and hope no one rode over my phone, luckily it was in mint condition when I finally got to it.
We could smell journeys end, we rode by Augusta National golf course. Took in a scenic river route and then the terribleness of Washington Road in Augusta, a busy strip full of franchises. Mercifully that ended and Zach proclaimed we were almost there it was just the “bitch of a hill” as you enter his family’s neighborhood. He wasn’t lying, for a non mountainous area the road was a steep gradient. I had to put my entire upper body over the handlebars to keep momentum. All three of us were greeted by Zach’s family and the hospitality was through the roof. Meals, pints of Guinness, clean sheets and hot showers were given to us.
It was an excellent way to see a bit of the state you’d never think too.
Let’s hear from the boys:
Charlie: Three lads rolling through the Lowcountry you can’t beat that. Seeing a hoard of buzzards flying high in the sky at 7am was a bit ominous and the wildest thing I saw. Revolutionary Road (from our route) with its fresh tarmac and no cars was absolutely awesome. Seeing Jacko’s phone fly out on the bridge in Georgia was not awesome.
Zach: Setting a goal that seems difficult for you at the time but then you make it a reality by doing it and having fun with it was probably the best part. The wildest thing I saw was a used refrigeration unit for $1000 which had me wondering who appraised that. (There were also baby goats living in the unit) Seeing all the countryside farms and movements of the clouds I found to be incredibly beautiful. The deli in Walterboro was also magic. The only time I felt like “This sucks” was getting poured on hoping that this wasn’t going to be like this the whole way.
So, there you have it. Lads on tour.
-Jackson
