Charleston, South Carolina through Chatsworth, Georgia

Friday, March 27, 2009 – Ah, the joys of sleeping inside. The morning sun doesn't wake you are the very crack of dawn. The temperature remains constant and you don't awake all sweaty and hot. Krista and I woke up at 10, right around the same time. She offered to make some eggs, and I counter offered to make her the best eggs she has ever eaten. God, I love being a great cook. I made a simple omelet with some cheesy chip dip mixed in and some good spices. Blew us both away.

In Myrtle Beach there isn't much for a poor boy with a gimpy dog to do. Everything costs money, and at an inflated tourist price at that. Most places won't let dogs in either. Even though it was kind of cloudy and storms were in the forecast, Krista took me down to the namesake beach so I could see what all the fuss was. It was ok, lots of sand and surf, but it didn't look much different from Jones Beach or the Jersey shore. And although in my head, I envisioned palm trees and tiki bars strung along the beach, the only "improvement" was a line of towering and very ugly looking resorts. After walking a mile and collecting some picked over shell fragments, we headed back to her apartment.

My plan was to leave by noon and it was already 2pm so I bide farewell to Krista and got on the road to Charleston. After a few minutes on the road the battery light came on. Weird, I thought. Why would that come on? I stopped for fuel in a gas/service station in Georgetown and checked my wires. Everything looked alright and the Nar turned over no problem. As I came into the Greater Charleston area, the light came on again, accompanied by a whining noise from my engine. Not good, but only 15 more miles to my destination. I can hold out and check it when I get there.

I was within sight of the beautiful Cooper River Bridge that crosses you over into the city of Charleston when I lost power. My fuel gauge, speedometer and clock also stopped working. I suddenly had no power locks, headlights or taillights. I was looking for a service station when my car stalled right on Hwy 17 at a red light. I shifted it into neutral and was able to push it off the road. Since I have two batteries, I can jump my main one from the secondary. I was able to start it in this way, and limped down the road to the Jiffy Lube. My van started convulsing, stopping short and not responding to my attempts to give it gas.

I died as I pulled into the Jiffy Lube station. These two really nice black guys came out and wanted to know if I needed a oil change, or a new radiator or anything. I told them I didn't really need that, but just wanted to get my battery issue fixed. "Go on down three buildings and you can find the guys to do that," they said. They checked my battery output and tinkered with a multi-meter for a few minutes and asked questions about my trip. "You mean you LIVE in here?" "Why are you doing this?" Questions I have heard before and would hear again.

They got me started again and I tried to make it three buildings down. I died again just next door to the repair place. With no power to even put on my flashers, I left the car and went into the shop. A nice southern girl was behind the counter. She got "Jeff" to come out with another battery and we got the van inside. Now at any normal shop I've been to, they would have wanted to leave it overnight and we'll look at it tomorrow. The guys here were awesome. They let me come into the bay with them and watch them work, asking questions about my power setup and the trip and even asking me to "pass a screwdriver."

I chatted with the lady at the counter for a bit too. She has several dogs and she recommended a vet here in town that "cares about the animals, not the money." I made a mental note of the location and planned to take Daze there Monday to change her splint. Finally Jeff gave me the news. My alternator was not working at all. Since it was only 2 months old, this was a surprise but what can you do. They gave my battery a full charge and I checked out. Only $34, not too bad.

I stopped at the auto parts store they recommended and got the new alternator ($200) but instead of stopping at Firestone for an install of another $200, I decided to place an ad on craigslist later that night, and crossed the bridge into Charleston.

I made it to Cara's house at about 6pm. Soon after I got there, she had to go speak at a rally for child soldiers fighting in the Congo. She is a very big human rights and anti-poverty activist. A great girl and an inspiration to me to do more for my fellow man. Cara is from Anderson, South Carolina and as a child, one of her best friends was a board named Francis. Francis was just a piece of wood. No Face, no clothes, no limbs. Not even a nail. Cara is such a unique and compassionate girl, and I was very happy to spend a couple days with her. While she was at her event, I relaxed for a bit and watched SU get knocked out of the NCAA tournament. (At least they made it to the Sweet 16!) When she got back, she was tired and wanted to go to sleep, but her friend Tristan called and convinced her to come out.

We were off, heading to the Purple Tree lounge and club. More than halfway there, and I realized I left my passport in the van. After looping back around, we finally got to Purple Tree. Thanks to my forgetfulness, there was now a $5 cover, but no worries. I drank a couple beers and she had a couple vodka crans and I met some of her friends. We all laughed at this really drunk guy that kept bothering Tristan with his tush. He kept coming up to her and shaking his ass on her and she kept pushing him away. The look on her face was priceless, I wish I had a camera. Cara and I danced for a bit and I was enjoying the scene that I normally avoid.

We left around 1am, and walked back to her place. Halfway there, we fell into a doorway and shared a passionate kiss. It was nice to get a little human contact after a week with only dog contact. For the first time in 8 days, I slept in a bed. Cara and I shared her big bed and I enjoyed a night of cuddling and comfort. Dazey was also very happy to have room to sprawl out.

Saturday, March 28, 2009 – Cara had to wake up early to go to another function. She spoke to high schoolers about leadership in their community, then stayed for their poetry slam. Meanwhile, I met up with John, a guy who responded to my Craigslist ad for a mechanic. He came over and for $50, installed the new alternator and did some other diagnostic work on the van. Note to self – stop at a junkyard and get a new taillight because my brake light is out. She came back around noon with half a delicious sub for me from Jimmy Johns (The EXTREMELY fast sandwich delivery.)

Next on our agenda was a walking tour of downtown historic Charleston. I loaded up half a dozen geocaches to supplement our walk and we were on our way. We visited a lake that used to be a mill pond, a church with a historic graveyard, the old slave auction, the market, and the wharf area. We stopped and saw the "pink house," which is one of the oldest houses in America, built in the 1690's.

The highlight of the walk was probably Dazey. Everyone saw her and said, "Oh look at the cute puppy. How did it break it's leg?" At first it was nice to talk to so many people and Dazey loved the attention. Then it started getting annoying. Finally, we started making up stories to tell people on how she broke her leg. One person we told, "I was hiking in Shenandoah National park and slipped off the edge of a cliff into a ravine. She jumped after me and hurt herself while trying to save me." To another gullible couple, "When we were in Baltimore there was a house on fire and there were 2 kids upstairs. Dazey ran in and saved the kids, but when she tried to get out herself, there was too much smoke and fire in the front. The only way to get out was to jump, which she did and that's how she broke her leg." They said, "WOW! Really? That's amazing!"

Dazey met a lot of other dogs too. Then she turned a corner and came face to face with a couple of horses doing carriage rides. She didn't know what to think. First she started walking towards them, then realizing they were giant, she back away and did circles around us making the most curious face. The tour guide driving the carriage said, "On your right you will see a historic building. On the left……oh! Everyone look at the cute little dog with the broken leg!" 2o pair of eyes fixed on Dazey, and boy did she love it.

Later that night back at Cara's house, we were trying to decide what to have for dinner. I volunteered to make her something using what she had in the fridge and with what I had in the van. I whipped up a delicious meal of cereal coated chicken breasts, rice-a-roni and Cajun broccoli and carrots. Eaten with a bottle of Wine, the night was great.

Sunday, March 29 – Woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head. Oh wait, I think that line has already been used. We got up around 8, took a shower and stepped onto the scale that was in there. 162 lbs! When I took Dazey to get her cast I weighed 178. Somehow, I've lost 16 pounds in just over a week! I guess eating light and doing a lot of walking really does make you lose weight. I haven't weighed this little since I was in 8^th grade!

The plan for the day was to go over the bridge into Mt Pleasant, do a little hike along a trail at the marsh and find a couple caches, then have a picnic lunch at the beach. The little hike turned out to be a couple miles because the trail wound in and out of little estuaries and bays along the marsh. We were working on a three part multi-cache in order to obtain a combo that opened the final part. No luck on the third number. Looking at the final box that we couldn't open, I noticed a name and number printed on the side that said "geocache caretaker." I called the number and Mr. William Hamilton said he would be right over, just stay where you are.

A few minutes later we heard a voice call out, "Are y'all the geocachers?" Mr. Hamilton pulled up in a golf cart and said, "Hop on, lets figure out what's wrong." Turns out one of the three caches we went to was the wrong one, so he brought us to the right spot, we got the final number, and he brought us back to the locked box so we could get the find. After doing a couple trades and taking a picture with Mr. Hamilton, we were ready to go.

Only Mr. Hamilton had different plans. He said, "y'all want to go on a tour of the neighborhood?" Cara and I looked at each other and shrugged. Why not? He took us all over the community, which was an intentional built community with giant houses. The whole point of the neighborhood was to be able to be close to your neighbors and use the walkways to commute instead of having to drive everywhere. The neighborhood is 10 years old, and before that it was watermelon fields. Mr. Hamilton brought us to a very old graveyard, which he said he used to visit as a child when it was deep in the woods. Then he took us to see the lakes that were made when they mined for gravel, to the wildlife sanctuary, to the charter school, the soccer field, playground, tennis courts and pool, shops, memorials and church. He engaged us with discussion on how this neighborhood is the end dream for rich republicans, and that many of the people who lived here were way too into materialism and were obsessed with the size and look of their houses and not the value of the people who lived inside. As one of the only liberals in the neighborhood, he was often confronted by neighbors who didn't like his ideas, but as a very active member of the community, he often got his points across to the point that they become reality. Mr. Hamilton turned a simple walk along the water into a very memorable and informative tour that was conducted in a way only a southern gentlemen could do. In NY, you would never find a random person being so nice to complete strangers. Thank you William Hamilton!

After our 30 minute walk turned into a 4 hour ordeal, Cara and I were starved. We still hadn't eaten breakfast, so our first stop was to the grocery store. Buying cheese, lunch meat, oranges and beer, we made a dash for the beach. It was an amazing day, 70 degrees, sunny with a breeze. We made sandwiches and sat on the rock wall, looking out at the open ocean, Charleston across the bay and pelicans swooping above and into the water. Cheap lunch meat on white bread never tasted so good, and with a cold Blue Moon to wash it down, the afternoon couldn't get better. Dazey loves the beach and after staring off at the ocean, at the birds, and at our sandwiches, she was ready for a run along the water and up to Fort Moultrie, a civil war fort right on the water.

Back at Caras' that evening, she took a nap while I got myself organized and ready for another leg of my trip. I uploaded pictures from my camera, filled my i-pod with new songs, charged all my batteries, and wrote some more pages of writing, then started cooking. I made turkey and cheese quasidillas for us for dinner, and at the same time cooked a big pot of chili so we could eat it the next day, with plenty left over for her to eat all week. Cara drank an entire bottle of wine, and I finished the 6 pack of Blue Moon from lunch. Her neighbors were having a party, so we poked our heads in there and made some conversation with some of the party goers. I met this guy who has had the "Free Agent" attitude for years now and said he didn't know it had a name but was happy to learn about it.

Monday, March 30 – 8am – Cara and I get up. She's headed in for classes, I drive to North Charleston to have Patrick's Vet Office look at Dazey's leg. The verdict – She is healing amazingly fast, with barely a noticeably crack in her bone on the x-ray after only ten days. Cara and I had lunch at Jim and Nick's BBQ and I had my first taste of "real southern BBQ." Sweet tea, BBQ pork, Fresh cut fries and some of the best Barbeque sauce I've ever had, a delicious meal paid for by the generous Cara Wideman. Orgasmicly good food followed by a 30 minute nap while Cara had another class meeting to go to.

I was looking at all of Caras' books and asked if she wanted to trade something with me so I could bring something to read. I told her that I started with a National geographic, and traded it to Danielle in Baltimore because it featured an article on Egypt, which incidently she was doing a project on. Danielle gave me an art magazine and also an article on Russia that she ripped from the National Geo, saying, "Someone is going to want to learn about Russia." Turns out Cara is a Russia minor, and she was really happy to have the article. Funny how things work out. I wonder if someone down the road will want to read Anthem, the book I traded to Cara.

Later that night we went to a "Mellow Mushroom," which is a really groovy pizza chain in these parts that feature a really unique hippy stoner atmosphere. Really dank and delicious pizzas and over 100 types of beers. We were there with about 10 other students for a celebration for their completion of a volunteer week. The delicious meal was on them. It was interesting to be seated in the middle of a meeting of an organization you don't belong to with a bunch of strangers you never have seen before.

On the walk back to Caras' place, she got a phone call from her roommate. Dazey was out! We were only a few blocks away, so I ran ahead to see if I could find her before she got too far. I thought, "I'm happy she has her tags with my phone number on it." My phone rang a block from Caras' house,
"Hi, Do you have a dog named Dazey?"

Luckily, I got her back fast and without any hitches this time. I'm so scared that something is going to happen to her or that she is going to disappear. I'm going to put myself onto the task of researching and training her how to stay with me, and be more aware and careful of her. On my last night in Charleston, I relaxed and walked around a little alone to clear my head. I left Dazey with Cara while they both slept and sat in the park thinking.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009 – Bright and early I was up and getting ready to head out of South Carolina. At 7:30, I was showered, packed and ready to say goodbye to Cara. I headed to Folly Island to pick up a guy who I found on craigslist who needed a ride to Atlanta. I was headed this way, had no one to ride with but Dazey, and he offered to pay for the gas. Why not pick up a virtual hitch-hiker. Tim was a really nice guy. I would guess 35-40 years old, who was going back to Atlanta to see his ten year old daughter and pick up his '89 convertible. For $30, I enjoyed his company and the 5 hour drive didn't seem very long at all. Before long we hit downtown Atlanta.

I let Tim off at the first train station so he could catch a quick ride up north and was about to head to the airport to pick up Tyne when I got a call. 10 inches in Minneapolis and the flight isn't going out! She wont be able to meet up with me until either Sunday/Monday in Savannah, or that week ahead in Atlanta. No worries, everything happens for a reason, I thought.

Pulling into a city park in the shadow of the city, I noticed a picnic shelter ahead crowded with a dozen homeless people trying to stay out of the scattered passing sprinkles. I passed another homeless man with no teeth (crackhead?) who asked what happened to Dazey. He said his sister's dog broke its leg and it cost her $700. He said that she had to break her vase filled with $100 bills to pay for it.  I completed a loop around the park, Dazey and I both used the bathroom, and we were off to find Logan's town northwest of Atlanta.

As I was leaving the city, I passed Varsity's Restaurant. A burger joint to the extreme, featuring a drive-in, a two story parking garage, and 12 check out lines. Dan from the Best Western back in Syracuse told me I had to go there, so I pulled in. A Chili Cheese dog, fresh cut onion rings, and a "FO" or "frozen orange," which turned out to be a tasty sherbet orange drink. After 30 minutes in traffic headed out of the city, I wasn't feeling too good. The greasy food was making me tired and I didn't want to drive anymore. I pulled over behind a Residence Inn and took an hour nap.

Waking up at 6pm, I felt like a million dollars as I headed into the backcountry of Georgia. Rolling hills and scattered towns were replaced by pointy top mountains and small villages. The scenery was beautiful and I was happy to be in a very different landscape. Miles behind me, it was starting to get late, and Logan wasn't answering his phone. It was starting to get late so I pulled into a Family Dollar in Ranger, GA, to buy a wet naps and a rawhide bone and ask the guy working if he knew anywhere to car camp for a few hours. "There is a rest stop on the interstate," he said, "The cops will nap you if you try to stop anywhere around here."

I trucked on to Chatsworth, GA – Logans' town. There was a big mountain range to the east, a national forest. In the last light of the day I drove up 3000+ feet of elevation on a tiny winding scenic highway. The state park on the top was closing, and it cost $12 to camp, so I drove another mile and pulled in off the up up to a radio tower/power station. Dazey and I took a run to the top of the mountain just a quarter mile away, then I fed her, set up the car for the night (curtains, cleaned up clothes and stuff), set up my lawn chair outside of the car tied Dazey to her chain, and wrote my log here tonight.

In the dark windy night, I can feel Spring coming in. Although its only 45 degrees up on this mountain, the season is ready to turn. I am ready to turn another page in my journey as well. Today, Wednesday and Thursday here in Chatsworth, then Friday/Saturday in Macon and Sunday/Monday in Savannah. Georgia, here I come!! Right before turning in, Logan called back. He was happy to hear Tyne wasn't coming. He wanted to see her, but his girlfriend thought they had something going on, so everything worked out for the best. We made plans to meet when he got out of work around one PM.

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