I woke up to another crisp and clear morning. I got another long stretch in, and began breaking camp. Another thing I do with my food is to store it at night away from all my other stuff, especially me. I normally find a remote spot about 75 yards away and throw a rope over a tree and pulley my food off the ground. It’s a “fun” game in the morning to try and remember where I had put it in the pitch black.

Well this time it wasn’t much fun. I found the spot, but from the angle I was coming from, all I saw was my “pots and pans” bag. Then when I got closer, I realized no matter what angle I looked at it, all I could see was my pots and pans bag. My entire food bag was gone.  There wasn’t even shreds of anything on the ground. It was just gone. There was no one around, but I don’t think that anyone would steal a bag with half a jar of peanut butter, a smushed loaf of bread, and five packs of Ramen noodles–the whole thing was worth about $10. But it was so weird that the entire bag was gone and the other bag was untouched.

I was a little worried about fuel for the day, and more than anything, I was embarrassed. I bet that raccoon couldn’t even open that jar of PB, and I’ve begun to enjoy my little continental breakfast! What a jerk. Looked like I was gonna get to know some fast food joints on the way to my next pit stop, Charleston.

So I packed the rest of my stuff up and readied myself to head out. I met a mother and son camping duo right before I left. The little guy’s name was William and they were super nice. They gave me some water and we spent some time chatting about my ride. I thought it was awesome that William was getting some nights outdoors–I bet he’d never let his food bag go missing!

We said our goodbyes and I hit the road. I only hit it for about 10 minutes because I stopped to check out the rest of the park before I left. I stopped at the beach and found some little marsh spots as well. That place was really cool.

It was a long day on 17 and there were some pretty lonely stretches. Fortunately for McDonald’s breakfast, I was ready for it. I made it to Awendaw, South Carolina. This area was where my cousins had lived until their entire home was taken out by Hurricane Hugo back in 1989. It made me think about Sandy and all the damage I had seen and heard about on my ride. Pretty crazy what Mother Nature can do.

I stopped in at a gas station in town to reload. I almost didn’t go in: I couldn’t believe they weren’t gonna let me smoke my fireworks!

But I resigned to the rule because I had to use their bathroom. Then I stretched my legs outside to a power bar and a Gatorade and sat down on a bench to strategize the rest of my route. One bench down from me was a guitar and banjo duo who had just set up shop and they started to play. They were real old and happy country folk and they played some great lunchtime tunes. When they saw my rig, they stopped and asked me about my trip. But as I said, they were real country folk. I could barely understand what they were asking me. And after many nods and smiles from both ends, we parted ways.

The rest of my day was slow going–the winds were not in my favor and my legs just felt tired. I was going to try and make it to Charleston, but I was still about 12 miles away from my family’s place at 4:30, so I decided to make camp in Mt Pleasant instead of riding into the city in the dark.