Day Sixty-One: Birmingham - Cedar Town, GA

That morning, Jerry treated us to one of our best breakfasts yet at a contemporary restaurant called Over Easy. It was clearly the town favorite: the booths next to us seated young doctors, businessmen, and hipster southerners alike, all of whom seemed to be Bama fans and alumni. Jerry prodded us with questions about our unpredictable future careers, and we laughed at our lack of a plan, nonetheless loving his helpful advice and witty stories. We hopped back in the truck after clearing our plates, and buckled up for a ride to the Chief Ladiga Trailhead, which is a bike path that would take us nearly 100 miles across Alabama and Georgia. Jerry filled our brains with tales from his work in commercial/land/farm real estate and we ate up every second of it, eager for advice for jobs to come. He was completely invested and animated, much like my grandfather when he tells stories, making it difficult to say goodbye and pry ourselves from the car. When he dropped us off in the town just outside the trailhead, we felt a bit emotional, having had such a blast in Birmingham and wishing we could spend more time with our hosts. Jerry hugged us goodbye and left us with a gift to get us “down the road,” and we promised to meet up with him and Andrea once they arrive in Portland this fall.

We prepped for the ride by charging up on espresso at a trendy coffee shop called Java Jolt, then took off toward the trail. For the first time of the entire trip, we were riding on a designated bike path far, far away from the clamor of the busy highway, and it was one of the best days of riding yet. Various cyclists passed through the trail, shaded by abundant green trees in the hundred-degree weather. One couple rode alongside us for about ten minutes, helping us with information about our next stops for food and water; another pair at the Alabama/Georgia state lines mentioned they met a German cross-country cyclist a couple weeks ago—and whaddayaknow, it was Frieder (we met him in Little Rock, AR)! When we crossed into Georgia, the name of the trail changed to the Silver Comet Trail, and we rode about 15 miles further to a small town called Cedar Town, GA.

Cedar Town wasn’t much, but it was whole lot bigger than some of the towns we’ve passed through in the last two months. I’ll tell you one thing, though: you know there’s not much to the place when the sweet middle-aged woman at CVS welcomes you with a, “Welcome to Cedar Town, home of the voice of Winnie the Pooh!” How’s that for a claim to fame? We took a break at Subway for dinner, then pedaled down the road in search of a place to stay. The town was a bit dead, unfortunately, and so were we, so we chose to check into a small motel for the night. The reviews were awful, but we arrived to find a room that was just fine for our standards. Before getting too settled, I made a quick trip to CVS and Kroger for snacks and shampoo (that’s when I heard about Winnie the Pooh man), and I was told that I sound like I’m from Minnesota because of my “accent”—say the women with exceptionally thick Southern accents.

I laughed at the thought of that the entire way back to the hotel while I struggled to carry the four grocery bags strung across my handlebars. Back in the room, we chugged nearly a gallon of Snapple that tasted like it had fermented into alcohol, then stayed up way too late for our own good, munching on popcorn and sleeping on our crumb-covered bed.