Spent last week in North Carolina, in my view the least southern cultured of the still distinctively southern states, nor do I mean to be judging that one way or the other even if I re-read a bit here and there from Shelby Foote’s volumes. The wild greens into the creeks and valleys, sparsity of people, one notices the shacks and the stonework more, hills and beach, Kitty Hawk and battle monuments. Manifestly, I needed to bring three bicycles, to wit, a road bike for the Blue Ridge Parkway, the Pugsley for riding on the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, and a singlespeed just in case something unexpected happened where I had to race. That latter never did.
The gain of exquisite heat and dense humidity was a happy one, rides ending with porch rocking chair Elijah Craig Kentucky spirits on ice.