Savannah

05 June 2024

An early lunch in Charleston at Magnolia makes it three straight home runs. All restaurants here have been out-of-the-ball-park excellent, to mangle local sporting metaphors. Is there a better dining city in the US than Charleston? Neither Paula nor Richard think so and I’m not going to disagree.

It’s an easy 108 miles to Savannah. I get within seven miles of the hotel before the weather has one final pop at me. I can see what looks like a bank of fog, maybe a mile ahead, but it’s rain, the like of which I’ve never experienced.

This is not an English, mustn’t grumble/no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing/Geography-field trip sort of rain, but a wall of water, virtually opaque and looms ominously from about half a mile away

On reaching it, visibility is under ten yards within a couple of seconds. I’m soaked to the skin in under minute. Mercifully, the traffic slows to a crawl and I make it to the hard shoulder. I wait for five minutes as the freeway turns into a river before the sun comes out again.

Savannah is a smart, good-looking city full of leafy squares and handsome buildings. But time is tight and there no time to explore, after packing up the bike ready for shipping and taken an Uber into the centre.

The staff at Vic’s on the River seem nervous, like they don’t know what they are doing, as we were left milling for ten minutes having checked in. So we repaired to the bar for Drunken Peacans, a wickedly alcoholic confection comprising generous measures of 1792 Bourbon and Rivulet Pecan Nut Liqueur muddled with cherries and orange.

It’s pure booze and sugar so after two sips, the world no longer seems the cruel, unforgiving place it was a minute ago. Dinner turns out to be rather good also as we split a Beef Carpaccio with capers, posh olive oil, rocket, pecorino, black truffle aioli and soft-boiled egg followed by southern favourites of fried chicken, BBQ meatloaf and shellfish with pasta.

Vic’s is deservedly popular: it might lack the cutting-edge brilliance of our Charleston choices but this is top-quality, comfort eating and exactly what we were looking for.

There’s time to stop in at the Pink House for a final couple of beers and listen to the pianist. Along with Vic’s, this a must for the first-time visitor to Savannah. After that I get an Uber back to a slightly scuzzy, edge of town hotel for the final time.

06 June 2024

It’s a four-mile journey to the drop-off point for shipping back to the UK, a light industrial and warehousing site close to the I-95 freeway and the port of Savannah. A container will be loaded  with UK-bound bikes and, once filled, put on a container ship bound for Southampton or Harwich. After what I’ve seen and experienced over three months, it’s an anti-climatic experience to say the least.

Thanks to everyone who has doggedly followed these posts. Every time I’ve thought writing them was a complete self-indulgence, somebody has been kind enough to get in touch and say how much they enjoyed the last article.

And it has been an indulgence. Certainly, friends and family wanted to know what I was up to. But the principal reason for getting it all down on paper, so to speak, is so I don’t forget as I won’t be doing this again.

On re-reading accounts I’ve written about previous tours, every detail comes back in vivid relief,. Even details I’ve omitted, as if these additional memories are carbon-dated into the words I did write. While they are mere mimeos of the experience, they’re the next best thing.

This journey around American Places has been, epic, expansive, expensive and unrepeatable. And now, a permanent memory, as best I have been able to capture it with words and pictures. So thanks again for the encouragement.

I check in, am given a form and told to ride it up the ramp into the end warehouse. Somebody will meet me there. It’s hot, dry and dusty as the bike is checked for visible damage. I secure the keyless start fob to the handlebars with cable ties and show the guy how to start it, pointing out there is only minimal fuel remaining, a requirement for shipping.

And that’s it. After 91 days, 16,310 miles, 308 hours and 19 minutes of riding, it’s over. After two years of thinking and planning, it’s done. So I sign both copies of the inspection report, keep one and walk down the ramp, into the brilliant sun and searing heat of the Georgia morning.