06)18(05 its 406pm

The gray choppy waters of the Atlantic splash and and splish as the truck rides smoothly over the white horizon. We are on a ferry between North Carolina’s mainland and the Outer Banks, and Kate is napping while I lean the laptop against her in the back of the truck.

The week has ben good and full, back on track you could say, from the pitiful small setbacks we had experienced in Asheville. After the remnants of the hurricane and the last night in a Super 8 I hope to spend in a very long time, we finally were able to remove the dead mouse from the air conditioning and head into the humid south again.

As we headed north, as far up as central Kentucky, we both agreed that there was something about the south that we hated to leave so soon… something about the people, the allure, the feeling and pace of life. Something about the south, the Louisiana, Mississippi part of the trip had embraced us in a friendly way, and so we were really looking forward to getting down to Savannah, Georgia, for a last glimpse of the steamy south, at least for this summer.

We pulled into the most perfect of Charleston afternoons, almost shocked to find ourselves looking straight at the unthought of and (in my case) rare Atlantic Ocean. It came as a surprise that we could now look at a map and trace a line from Mendocino to Charleston and cut the country in half along our trip’s jagged lines. The breeze was blowing, joggers were jogging by the handful, and the statues and palm trees and civil war cannons were glowing in the warm afternoon sun.

It was nice to be there, to have made it, but unfortunately the reality of needing a place to stay is never far behind us on this trip, especially a place that we can afford. We kind of had to face the reality, finally, that it was summer, and that summer means tourism, and that we no longer are the only people out poking around other people’s towns. And so motel prices skyrocket, and availability dries up, and we find ourselves staying 20 minutes out of town to the north, in the ghetto of Charleston, in a STILL overpriced Best Value Motel. But Kate was still a little sick, and it was worth it to not have to struggle so much for the day.

We threw our backpacks on the grey blue carpet, turned on the rattling a/c and headed back out into a Charleston evening.

Charleston is renowned and loveable for its amazing clusters of historic buildings and its arched cobblestone streets. At night the alleys glow amid the humidity with history, and the way the wrap around in that European way makes you feel like you could explore them for hours just enjoying the view as you turn each new corner.

And did I mention that the days are hot? The next morning we set out with no real determined end and found ourselves gasping and bickering in the intense heat reflected between the bricks and stones and the sponge like air. At 11:30 we found ourselves in a bar for lack of a better place to go and ordered ice water as the sweat evaporated from every inch of our body. It was somewhere in that moment of lightheadedness that we decided to just trek to Savannah that day, it was only an hour and a half away, and we had been waiting so long to see it.

We accepted that with the campgrounds being full and or as expensive nearly as a cheap motel room that we would spend the night outside of the city and head in. The drive through South Carolina’s lowlands was hot and slow, but soon enough we crossed the Georgia border and immediately had Ray Charles singing “Georgia On My Mind” stuck in my head. We found another Best Value Motel amid an oasis of McDonalds, Subway, every other fast food chain and several other motels. It was becoming normal to be staying in places like this and after a short nap we were almost comfortable with its dingy interior. And again we headed off into a Savannah Night.

Savannah’s historic district is pretty large and pretty amazing. There are 22 separate but geometrically equally distributed park/courtyards, often with creepy gothic fountains and statues in the middle and pleasant park benches spread out underneath the moss draped live oaks. So you can be in one of these plazas, walk a few blocks in and be in another, they are like their own little worlds, and they are a godsend in the brutal humidity and heat. And so walking Savannah is amazingly pleasant, even with the air sticking to you and making your brain nearly inoperable. We passed the evening walking along the riverfront, where once slaveships and cotton bundles were shipped in enormous quantities to and from the old world. Savannah’s strategic port clearly made it a major power in the boat dominated industries of the past.

For now Savannah is enjoying its place among travelers as being one of the more exotic American cities, and rightfully so. It is clear that the successes of “Forrest Gump” and “Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil” has attracted a great number of tourists to the musty allure of its streets. But for us it was simply the feel of the place, the idea that mystery and shady secrets lurked along the quiet waterfront, in the strangely silent statues, below the ever hanging spanish moss.

Some of the shady secrets are buried even deeper into Savannah’s unconscious. We visited the civil rights museum there that detailed the influential and monumental fight for basic respect and rights for the cities huge African-American population. The underbelly of the city , the sad reality of the place is that brutal racism has not fully gone away, and didn’t even come close to not being the status quo all the way up to the 1960’s and 70’s. It was only through the courage, perseverance and effectiveness of black boycotts on white business, sit ins in “white only” restaurants and stores, and integration of schools that progress was made. To imagine the brutality of racism before some changes were made is impossible to imagine, and perhaps for many, to forget.

We spent our day in Savannah taking pictures and slouching through the heat. At first I was ready to get somewhere, anywhere just to avoid the intensity of humidity and hazy weather, but by the end of the day I was truly sad to go. Its such an amazing city that in one city I had fallen in love with its simple pleasures, its lusty feeling, its gorgeous ghosts.

Now, almost by accident we are headed to the outer banks, being lulled by the Atlantic’s quiet pull, ready to spend some crystalline days on gusty dunes.