Wherein Chris Discovers Low Country

Savannah, GA
It’s been so long I hardly know where to start! Most of the intervening time since Columbia has been wet and windy, and so I started to think about how my adventure compares to seafaring in times of olde. So much of my journey depends on the quality of the wind: a tailwind brings smiles and an easy day, a headwind has nearly locked me onto a barrier island unable to head to the mainland. The wind picks up and I adjust my rigging, getting low in the saddle to avoid it, or sitting up to slow things down. When the weather gets stormy I either batten down the hatches and weather it out or you find a port and hunker down. At night I lay in my tent staring intently at maps and charting a course for my next port of call. It’s all very exciting when you think of it that way. I’m on a bike exploring distant lands and their cultures, untouched yet by folks such as me. What makes this place different from where I’ve been before? What can the natives teach me? If I were to wash ashore here with no recollection of where I should be, how would I figure out where I was?

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Wherein Chris Travels Through the Heart of the Carolinas

Columbia, SC
Measured in time or miles, the interim between Rumspringa updates has grown too long. Time to slow the journey and find a library where I can plead for public internet access. Some place with a modern browser featuring incognito mode so that I can safely share all my precious Rumspringa credentials and launch codes. I try to do this every four or five days to occupy myself while my body recharges as I’m no good at sitting still without a diversion. Although I’m much stronger than I was at the beginning it’s important to rest proactively, and I’d rather do this inside a library than in a random patch of unclaimed forest along a county road. At this particular library computation must be performed in hour intervals so I’m doing my best to quickly conjure five dollar words and commit them to page. Commit them to bits?
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