St. Augustine and Castillo de San Marcos

Left Greg and Emily's for St. Augustine Friday morning and arrived in St. Augustine about noon. Not knowing much more than the fact that I wanted to visit the fort, I turned at the first visible sign advertising a fort. It was, in fact, the site of the old Spanish Fort Mose.

For brief period (1738-1752) runaway black slaves lived in what has come to be known as the first Fort Mose. Here the blacks were given their freedom in exchange for their allegiance Catholicism and the Spanish government.

Today there is nothing left of either of the two forts that were once here, they have been swallowed up by the waters of the everglade. A testimony to the every changing environment.

St. Augustine is the oldest continuously occupied city in America, and is most famously represented as such by Castillo de San Marcos, the Spanish fort that was built over a 23 period that began in 1672.

The beautifully preserved fort open daily for visitors to walk over, around and throughout the entire fort. Castillo de San Marcos (and the entire city of St. Augustine) is a great family vacation day.

The Thanksgiving Dinner

From Savannah I had planned ride to south of Jacksonville, Florida and stop to visit my nephew Greg and his Wife Emily.

However, Greg's job high security

aircraft mechanic, requires him to travel to distant parts of the world for weeks at a time, and he would be departing shortly. Perhaps, another time.

Dusk was fast approaching as I passed though Tybee Island headed for Brunswick, Georgia or as far south I could get before total darkness. Scenic highway 17 is somewhat desolate and I knew the deer would be running, but with little traffic I could run, much of the time, with my bright lights on.

Fortunately, although it was dark by the time I reached Brunswick, I made it safely. The temperature had remained in the low 60's all day, but when the sun went down it turned it, quite literally, into a very cool ride. I stopped to get warm up, grab a bite to eat and ponder my next move.

It Wednesday the day before Thanksgiving. Normally, I would probably be out shopping for second need, in preparation for the big day. Now I was considering trying to find a shelter or halfway house, just to - feel the experience. Perhaps, I thought I could volunteer to work on the food line.

Checking my cell phone's voice mail, I discovered a message from Greg and Emily. Greg would not be leaving so soon after all, and they were asking me join them Thanksgiving dinner. Sure beats the Soup Line!

I called and talked to Greg and told him that I was still in Brunswick, Georgia. He advised me that I was only about 45 minutes to an hour from his house and advised me to continue on.

In deference to the deer and in effort to speed things up, I headed south on I-95. As it turned out, a few minutes later, I found myself snarled in traffic and moving at crawling pace (and sometimes not moving at all) for some, still, unknown reason. The delay was probably more than 30 minutes. And so my expected 9-9:30 arrival, turned out to be 10:30 PM.

Greg and Emily showed me around the house and I marveled all the things that Greg had accumulated in his travels and at just how tastefully they were displayed.

Being the great hosts that they are, they offered me a beer, and another, and .... It was after 2:00 AM when we finally expired - Great Fun!

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In the morning Greg showed me his, "pride and joy," a 1975 BMW that he has restored to "like new" condition, and even better - given the redone interior.

I am still amazed at how, seemingly, effortlessly Emily prepared the FEAST! I'm sure she would probably confess that is was not really all that easy, but she made it look easy. I graciously devoured everything, but the tablecloth.

Many thanks to Greg and Emily.

Day Two in Savannah

With the weather continuing to clear, I decided to a leisurely walk through Savannah and see a few of the 21 Squares. All of Savannah's Squares are located with a 1 mile square area and in a 2-3 mile walk you can see not only most of them, but the best of them.

The squares are dominated by the presence of the sprawling live oaks. Laden with Spanish moss they loom over the walkways crisscrossing the squares.

In addition to the 21 squares, it would nearly impossible to miss the Colonial Cemetery. It is the final resting place of the original signers of the Declaration Independence, Button Gwinnett, and more than 700 victims of Savannah's Yellow Fever epidemic of 1820, are buried there.

There are several large bed-like crypts (complete with a pseudo headboard), in which entire families have been laid to rest - one atop the other.

The cemetery was closed to further burials prior the start of the Civil War; and therefore, all of the tombs cover its 103 year history from 1750-1853.

My walk included a stop McDonough's for a cold beer. McDonough's is the one top "Watering Holes" for celebrants of the Savannah's St. Patrick's Day Parade. The parade is said to be

second only to New York in size - topping even Boston in grandeur.

To complete my city tour, drove the streets, stopping as frequently as required to photograph the beautiful homes of Savannah.

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Summary: Walk through Savannah's 21 squares and the Colonial cemetery

Savannah at Last

True their word, the team at Suzuki of Dublin finished the clutch work shortly after lunch. Many thanks to Wade, Dewey the others.

The day was sunny and clear, but the forecast was not. On my previous stay in Savannah, I discovered an Econo Travel Lodge with rooms for little more than the cost of campsite (and they had WiFi). With rain in site, it was clearly the way to go.

As expected it rained all day Sunday, but the weather cleared Monday (though still cloudy and

gloomy).

Being in Savannah, it was hard to avoid exploring the Civil War.

Therefore, in order to give meaning to the pictures (Fort McAllister and Fort Pulaski); what follows is a very brief recount of Savannah's place in the Civil War.

One the first successes of the Union Army was the capture of Fort Pulaski in Savannah. With the start of the Civil War the Confederacy had easily taken possession of Fort Pulaski which at that time was only occupied by a singe "overseer".

At that time the newly completed fort, with eleven foot thick brick walls was considered virtually impenetrable. However, when it was built, they did not recognize the fire power of rifled cannon artillery.

On the morning of April 10, 1862, nearly a year to the day from the Confederate capture of Fort Sumpter, General David Hunter, commander of the union garrison, launch a 30 hour attach on Fort Pulaski. The attack breached the walls of the fort and threatened the main powder magazine. To prevent the senseless loss of lives, General Charles H. Olmstead commander of the Confederate garrison, issued the order to surrender.

With the victory, the Union effectively blocked European shipment to the port of Savannah.

Despite the capture of Fort Pulaski early on the war, Savannah itself was protected by the earthen ramparts of Fort McAllister which provided virtually impenetrable to Union artillery.

Under the protection of Fort McAllister, Fort Jackson, further up river, afforded the city of Savannah from onslaught for most of the Civil War. It wasn't until December of 1864, with General Tecumseh Sherman's "March to the Sea", that Savannah succumbed to Union forces.

Although, Fort McAllister effectively staved off artillery attack, the small garrison of only 236 men was no match for the Unions 4000 troops who stormed Fort McAllister.

With the loss of Fort McAllister, the Confederacy knew they were no match of Sharman's total army of more then soldiers. General Hardee, in charge of the Confederate garrison vacated the Fort

Jackson and city of Savannah.

Today, all three fort can be visited and you can put your own vision to work when exploring the sites.

Trouble on The Road

Spent the day at Andersonville and traveled east towards Savannah before stopping for the night at a campground about 60 miles southeast of Andersonville.

With laundry to contend with, it was late morning before I departed the campground and began the route to Savannah. It should have been a comfortable and leisurely ride. It should have been!

One of the things the Harley dealership in Newnan had wanted to check out was, an expressed concern for how hard it was to pull the clutch lever. It was just one of the, seemingly minor, things that I chose ignore. Bad move!

About an hour out of Andersonville, as I was cruising the side streets of Milan, for no apparent reason (the town just seemed worthy of a closer look). Suddenly, when I pulled the clutch lever and down shifted at the traffic light, my clutch lever SNAPPED! The cable had busted and I had no clutch. I shouted at a couple of pedestrians while turning right onto a side street - "Hey, is there a motorcycle dealer around here?" They just looked at me, seemingly stupefied!

Ever ride a Harley without a clutch? Not Fun! Shifting gears was no problem, but stopping was another matter.

I managed to get out of town with little difficulty, but, at this point, I still hadn't tried to stop and wasn't sure if I could keep the bike upright when it eventually came time to do so. If I could manage to find neutral, I could just cruise to safe stop. Without a clutch, however, finding neutral was no easy thing to do.

Surprisingly, I made it to the next town and into the nearest gas station, herking and jerking, chugging and weaving, I somehow managed to keep the bike upright (surprising even myself). While fuel was an issue, by this time, my immediate concern was what to do about the clutch.

After inquiring around I learned that the only sort of a dealer around was a Suzuki dealer, about 35 miles away in Dublin, Georgia.

By telephone, an arrangement was made with the dealer to pick up a new clutch cable. He said, that, with that being done, he could have me back on the road tomorrow afternoon. Now all had to do was get to Dublin - Without a Clutch!

With the cycle in neutral and rolling at walking pace, I pressed and held the starter down while simultaneously shifting into second gear . The bike sputtered, jerked, wavered and fired. With the starter still giving an assisting boost, I was on the road.

Missed the turn to Dublin and the 30 minute ride was closer to an hour. Fortunate for me Dublin has round-about which enabled me to make my turn off without stopping. Unfortunately, I chose the wrong turn off!

Trying to u-turn, to correct my error, I found myself stalled in the middle of the right hand lane of the four lane highway. I had, however, managed to keep the bike upright - Almost!

Actually, I was leaning too far over to pick the bike straight up and also, too far over to try to start it. A bit of a quagmire!

It's always surprising to me, to see just how many people will drive by and ignore someone in obvious distress.

Finally, however, a concerned citizen came to my rescue and helped me to get back on road.

Through the round-about for a second time, I was able to find the correct exit. There were still four lanes traffic to contend with and the traffic was now heavier. The Suzuki dealer I was looking for was across the highway. It should have been no problem, if only I had a CLUTCH!

I spied my target Suzuki dealer, but was unable cross over the oncoming lanes of traffic in time to make the exit. With the traffic cleared, I tried make legal u-turn, but at the slow speed the engine sputtered and jerked to a stopped before I could get completely through the turn.

Must have been my lucky day! Sitting in the middle of the highway, engine stalled, unable to find neutral and hence unable push the bike off the roadway - the next approaching vehicle as a COP! With police lights blinking, I advised the officer that I had lost my clutch was trying to get into the driveway of the adjacent Suzuki dealer.

In the end, late workers from inside the Suzuki dealer saw the police lights and came to my rescue.

With no other alternative, I set up tent outside the Suzuki dealership. I could live without a shower for a day.

Stone Mountain to Andersonville

From Stone Mountain it's only about 150 miles to Andersonville, but with the late start I was sure that I would not make it there before dark.

Fortunately, I was able to find able to find a campsite, but not before dark and still 70 miles short of Andersonville.

The next morning I was feeling almost euphoric about motorcycling across the country; sunshine, beautiful countryside, and low traffic volume will do that to you (see the photo of historic Hightower Mills - 1797).

Euphoria aside, there is the reality of going from one day to the next, from one campground to another, pitching tent, pulling up tent stakes, packing gear on the motorcycle and going back on the road - you've got to love the life of a road rat!

For me the toughest part is folding up the tent and packing the gear back on the bike. I can sleep on a rock, no problem. Often times my tent is set up on asphalt, concrete or crushed rock - it's never an issue!

What is an issue? Keeping up with my blog (Note to bloggers: Don't let yourself get behind). currently I'm nine days in hole (well, sort of). In an effort to get caught up, or at least, not to fall farther behind, I've been writing the events of each day along with working on the older past due blogs. As long as I can keep abreast on a daily basis, it will only be necessary to fill in the blanks from the past days in order to get caught up.

Upon arriving at Andersonville I soon discovered that there is little to see in the city of Andersonville itself. There are just a few antique shops, tourist shops and a pseudo museum. The real interest is found at the Andersonville National Historic Site.

Andersonville was the site of the Confederate civil war prison camp. It was originally built to house and intended 10,000 prisoners of war and although it was only in use for a brief 15 months before the end of the war, it held over 33,000 prisoners within the 27 acres enclosed by the stockade walls. No prisoner barracks was ever built, they slept in tents, with deplorable sanitation and suffered horribly. In defense of the Confederacy, it has been said that the conditions at Andersonville where, perhaps, no worse than what was suffered at the Union prison camp at Elmira.

Of course, the original wood enclosure has long since decayed away, but archaeologists have been able to discover the location of the original perimeter walls. Cornerstone markers and white posts define the prisons original boundaries, and there is a reconstruction of the main entry gate. The original earthen defense mounds outside of the stockade complete the picture.

Today Andersonville, is more than an old Confederate prison camp. Andersonville National Historic Site serves as a memorial to all of America's prisoners of war.

Stone Mountain

The trip to Stone Mountain was relatively uneventful save a little mist of rain and almost running out of gas for a second time. Fortunately, however, with the engine sputtering (and actually quitting a couple of times) I made it off the interstate and gassed up without further incident.

Interestingly, although the stated gas tank capacity on my

"Fatboy" is 5.0 gallons, it took more than 5.0 gallons to fill the tank - quite empty!

Stone Mountain is often stated to be the largest piece of exposed granite in the world, but actually their are numerous other larger examples throughout the world (including the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range). Not only that, but technically it is not even granite; for the purist, it's quartz monzonite. Even so, it is - "one very impressive rock".

The main attraction of Stone Mountain is not its mass, but the bas-relief carving that graces its north face. In this case, it accurately holds claim to being the largest bas-relief carving in the world, measuring 190 by 90 feet.

The carving depicts (from left to right) three of histories most prominent leaders of the confederacy - President Jefferson Davis, General Robert E. Lee and General Robert E. Lee riding their horses Blackjack, Traveller (sic) and Sorrel respectively.

Gutzon Borglum, who later went on to finish Mount Rushmore, was commissioned in 1912 to carve the relief. Borglum abandon the project and for over 35 years nothings was done. Finally in 1964 work began anew and was completed by Roy Faulkner in 1972.

Today, much of the "hype" about Stone Mountain is theme park and family oriented activity; but the interest it holds for me is the carving and the mountain of "granite" itself.

The one activity that I might have considered doing it to climb the mountain. However, having no one to encourage me make the arduous climb to the summit of the mountain, I left after a couple of hours in order to depart for Andersonville.