This morning I woke up sore and stiff, perhaps from the previous day’s century ride, perhaps from the last six days of riding… I’m not sure which. Regardless, I broke camp and got on my way to Oak Island, NC: our final destination. The ride itself was largely unremarkable… Fairly flat riding all day, riding past farmland and forest and swamp.
Only once we started nearing the ocean did things start getting exciting. And confusing. The day was planned to go for 75 miles. This turned out to be three miles short, and many (including myself) pulled out our cue sheets to make sure of our directions and our destination. Once at our destination (78 miles from the day’s start), I rode right past the camp and food and music and went straight for the beach, one block beyond. Dropping my bicycle to the layer of old seaweed at the top of the beach, I doffed my cycling shoes and socks and went for the water, Twittering and calling my wife while standing in the Atlantic Ocean.
After wading around for a bit, I went back to camp. Upon finding my bags, I set up my tent to start drying then headed over to get some food: fried and baked catfish, hush puppies, cole slaw, and sweet tea… Yum! I then found myself headed back to the water for a longer, deeper swim.
I didn’t leave the beach for hours.
A conversation with a fellow swimmer out in the water turned into a conversation on the beach with him and his friend. Over the next hour, our trio slowly grew into an octet, sitting on the sand watching the pelicans dive for fish and watching the sun set over the water.
(Yes, I said “watching the sun set over the water”. The beach we were on faced due south. With the angle of the sun at this time of year, the sun did indeed set into the ocean, far to our right, probably only five degrees from the shoreline.)
Sunset didn’t stop the conversation. We talked biking and politics and family and stupid jokes until almost 10:00pm. By the time we got back to camp, full darkness had set in, the camp was silent, and the shower trucks we’re long gone. :O Still salty and sweaty, I was resigned to getting the best shower I could from the open-air beach-side facilities meant for a quick de-salting and de-sanding after a day at the beach. A single, cold jet of water, it was, quite possibly, the worst showering experience I’ve ever had. It was also, however, my own darn fault and couldn’t be helped.
Aside from the shower, it was an excellent ending to an excellent week. Now, I just have to get home…