33: more than a feeling, rick, drive-in, goodyear, accident on 17, bosom bottom church, temple of sport, edisto motel

April 19, 2025

Beaufort to Jacksonboro

Last night, as I was scouting around for a place to sleep after today's ride, my intention was to stealth camp. I had even found a beautiful place to stay: a bucolic old church, no longer used and with an adjoining cemetery. It was set back from the road enough for me to be invisible, and was so pastoral I half expected to see James Heriot on the google street view image.

Still, with a chance of rain, I thought I'd give the lone motel in Jacksonboro a call to see if they had any vacancies. The woman who answered, Susan, in an accent dripping with a South Carolinian drawl, said they were full. Then she asked, “Are you on a bike?” I was a bit shocked, and told her I was. “Well, maybe I’ll have something for you. Sometimes people say they’re gonna stay two nights but just stay one, so give me a call about 10:00 tomorrow.” I let her know I’d be talking to her in the morning, but before I hung up I asked, “How in the world did you know I was on a bike?”

“I just had a feeling.”

I don’t believe it was “just a feeling.” There was something that contributed to her guessing and, after giving it some thought as to how she knew, I came up with a lone possibility: nobody except cyclists make reservations. If you’re in a car, you can just drive to the next town, or the one after that. If you’re on a bike and you arrive at a hotel with no vacancies, you’ll be camping. (Unless, of course, you’re Jeff Lee. Then you simply ride another 50 miles to the next town.)

I know there are other possibilities, and if you have any to add I’d love to hear them.

When I called this morning at 10:00 sharp, she said there was a room available.

I got back on the appropriately-named Spanish Moss Trail, and remained on it all the way through town.

As I was riding along a guy on a mountain bike caught up to me and started talking. He admitted to having seen me and, curious about the panniers, pedaled harder to catch up.

Rick is one of those guys who’s excited about life, and even more excited about cycling. He and his son are visiting from Pennsylvania. His son loves to fish in different places, and it gave Rick the chance to bring his bike down and do some cycling in a new area. He takes it everywhere when he travels.

Somehow, this avid cyclist has never taken an extended trip. When I started answering his questions about my trip I suggested that it isn’t actually that difficult, and if it’s something he has even the least interest in he should do it. Of all the people I’ve ever talked to about taking a bike trip, Rick seems the most likely to actually do it.

Image not found :( — My next stop is an old-fashioned drive-in movie theater. In the 1950s more than 4,000 of them dotted the landscape. As of late 2024, there were between 280 and 336 operating drive-in movie theaters across the United States.

Near the first part of the trip, I told you that I missed getting a picture of the Goodyear Blimp's hangar. Today, I make up for it by giving you this shot.

My route took me off Highway 17, which hasn't been the gothic nightmare it was previously, and onto a side road for a while. There was no traffic and in spite of not seeing any trees here, there were farther up the road where it was shady and cool almost the entire time.

Protein bars don't seem to do well when they get packed into my panniers. They still taste good, though.

A lot of the trees have thick, snake-like vines climbing them.

Back on Highway 17, I came upon an accident which had the entire southbound section closed.

There were at least ten emergency vehicles. I could see a crashed motorcycle but nothing else. From its condition, in pieces, and the number of police, firefighters, and paramedics, I suspect the outcome wasn't great. The traffic was backed up for more than a mile, and people had turned off their engines and were walking around.

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Juxtaposition.

It’s a wonderful thing. Two seemingly unrelated items come together and create a completely new meaning… say, for example, a portable generator made by the company Schwing and a cement mixer with the company logo of Hard Rock and - voilá - a completely different perspective.

Today’s Points of Interest are juxtaposed nicely, a mere two miles apart. Honestly, I can’t even say WHAT the new meaning is… It just resonates with me. The two are the Bosom Bottom Church and The Temple of Sport. I get a heady linguistic pleasure just thinking about it.

...this is what I saw. In all directions there was nothing but forest. I even ventured into the trees a bit, but there was nothing for at least a hundred yards in any direction.

Interestingly, although the Bosom Bottom Church is on Google Maps, there is virtually nothing online about it. I have a reference call in to the Colleton County Library to see if they have any information on it, but so far I haven't heard back. I'll update this post when I do.

So... onward to The Temple of Sport.

The roadside marker notes the location of what was once a deer stand built by Colonel Barnard Elliott, the first person to read the Declaration of Independence publicly in South Carolina. Unlike modern stands, which are so small that a fart could precipitate an urgent visit to the hospital, the colonel's had eight brick columns approximately two feet in diameter at the base and stood at the headwaters of the Chehaw River.

The Chehaw has since rerouted itself, and the Temple has fallen to time, erosion, and the despoiling forces of humanity, but this sign depicts what was once something grand.

And it's next to the Bosom Bottom Church.

It was called the “Temple of Sport” because of its classical architectural design and substantial construction. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find a picture of what it looked like, and this marker on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere is the only indication anything stood here.

The road, with its wide shoulder and minimal traffic, wasn't bad today.

When I arrived at the Edisto Motel Susan met me at Room 14 to give me the key. We started talking, although it would be more accurate to say that Susan started talking. I mentioned yesterday that she has a Southern drawl. For those of you who are familiar with the accent only from movies you should know something: not all Southerners with a drawl speak slowly. In fact, some can recite the entire Magna Carta without stopping to inhale.

Our conversation veered off like a rocket with one thruster gone bad as she started with the motel, then drifted to her husband, slipped over to her genealogy (the original colonists), swerved over to her mother-in-law (“If you’re marrying him for the restaurant, he ain’t gettin’ it”), and finally, mercifully, plunged into the restaurant itself. It's no longer here, but was once featured in the American Airlines magazine.

I enjoy listening to people’s stories, as I did with Susan’s; however, having just walked in the door I was quite ready get out of my dirty clothes, shower, and eat. So much so, in fact, that I started undressing. Nodding as I listened to her soliloquy, I reached up under my jersey and unclipped my heart rate monitor. With an “uh-huh” I reached under it again and took off the monitor’s strap (“Is he wearing a tiny bra?”). After that came my sandals, then my socks. I only had two items of clothing left, and was wondering if I should continue, when her phone rang. It was another person checking in, so she took my $70.00 cash (no credit cards accepted) and left to educate the next customer.

Part of the deal about me getting this room was that the housekeeper wouldn't have time to do everything before my arrival. Thus, although it has two beds, only one of them has sheets and pillows. Susan was very concerned about which one I might want and finally guessed, having told the housekeeper to make the bed that's in front of the television.

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Today's ride: 38 miles (61 km)
Total: 899 miles (1,447 km)

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