Scottie was kind enough to slingshot me through Wilmington and back on the road south. It looked like I was going to be using 17 again, and I began to realize I should get used to this bad boy.

I crossed from North Carolina into South Carolina. It was a beautiful day, and I did my best to soak in the rays in my long sleeves and helmet. When I had left my bag with LB, I had nothing to entertain me on those long rides from the OBX to Wilmington. I literally sang Wagon Wheel about 300 times to myself, most often yelling it out loud. Now that I was reunited with my bag (and headphones) and I was in a new state, nothing really changed. Just kept singing Wagon Wheel. And I certainly did not make it “down the coast in 17 hours.”

There were definitely some cool views, especially when I swung down to the road that is right on the water, but I have a feeling a lot of the shots, if I were wearing the camera (decided to give my neck the day off), would have been of franchise America in the middle of downtown Myrtle. I did learn that Calabash-style seafood just means that it’s fried, and apparently, the “best” is right down the street from the other “bests.” The long, lost, family business?

It reminded me of Ocean City, MD a little. I thought that place had the most Sunsations in the world, but boy was I wrong. I tried to count how many “Wings,” “Whales,” “Eagles,” and “Sunsations” there were, but that might actually be impossible.

I had called ahead to a campground just south of Myrtle, so when I got near the end of town, I decided to pull off and take a little break. I peeled off the main beach thoroughfare and on to this little road. It was the weirdest feeling of déjà vu I’ve ever had. I totally recognized the street, so I kept going. The next thing I knew, I saw the hotel that I stayed in 5 years ago for Lifeguard Nationals. I couldn’t believe it. I literally had passed probably over a hundred hotels and streets that looked like this one, but for some reason I picked this one to pull into. That brought me back. Ah, to be young again.

After reminiscing for a few minutes, I got back on my trusty steed and kept cruising. I enjoyed a little bike path that paralleled 17 for a while, but then I had to hop back on when I got out of town. I only had a few more miles to the campground and I pulled in right at dusk–which meant I had about 15 minutes before it got pitch black. I did stop and watch this dude snag his dinner–probably be good with soup.

I quickly checked in and located the tent sites. Huntington Beach State Park is  beautiful, and it’s also huge. The tent sites were pretty secluded, and I made camp right before sun-down.

I have this weird thing where I always make my dinner at a different site than my own. I know animals will smell it no matter what, but I figure if I trip and fall and my delicious-smelling Ramen splashes all over my tent, I got issues. Or maybe that would be a repellant?

Because I cut back on all non-necessaries, I eat my soup out of the pot I cook it in. My mouth is pathetic–it takes me about 20 minutes of cool-off time before I will sip a cup of coffee–so it takes me quite a while to finish dinner.

So I’ll stretch, make a few phone calls, reassure my mother that I’m alive, and take some time to soak in my surroundings, then I can eat. One of my favorite things to do is to lay back after a long stretch and look up at the stars. That’s a double whammy by the way–stretching WHILE soaking in my surroundings. But it seriously is so cool–you definitely don’t get these views in a big city.