26: buildings, ecg, dead peoples things, fat godley, bike path, found items, hostel in the forest

April 12, 2025

Kingsland to Brunswick

Here are a few buildings along the way this morning.

Does your car need a pedicure or a facial? Come see us!

Another poor business model. If you're going to sell stolen cars, don't advertise it!

I laugh every time I see this sign. THIS is Georgia's "bike path?" Highway 17??!?!

This is more appropriate, because if you're on a bike you're going to need an ECG by the end of the day.

The Dead People's Things store is one of the Points of Interest for today. I read about it and was hoping I'd be able to talk to the owner but he keeps odd hours and the place was closed. One of the comments about it reads:

I live in Woodbine Ga. and have been to Dead People's... a couple of times. The owner is an elderly man, a very interesting one at that, who keeps his own hours. Normally he is open in the mornings, often closing before one. If you have a chance to catch the shop open it is well worth the trip! I asked once why he had a "Shut" sign instead of a "Closed" one, and he very simply stated that "Shut" was easier to paint. He has a fine collection of dead people's things, but more interesting is his firefighting collection. Ask him about his late wife -- the stories will amaze you.

I took some pictures through the window, but the larger section wasn't visible.

According to Google Translate, this translates to "Fire Department Museum" or "Fire Service Museum."

If you're reading this outside of North America, then it is.

I sat in the shade on the side of the building eating an orange when a truck pulled up and the owner, Laney, got out. He just needed to check on something and stopped by. It's my lucky day, because he spent 20 minutes talking about the store and its history ("I named it that because it's catchy"), the town (of which he's very proud), and Harley-Davidson motorcycles ("I don't see how those things don't fall apart with that engine chug-chug-chugging like that").

Before leaving he said, "Wait here a second," then ran back inside and came out with this postcard. It shows what the building originally looked like.

We have "Bum" Farto in Florida, and "Fat" Godley in Georgia. In school at roll call as a young child: "Godly, Fat?" "Present."

I decided to stay on Highway 17 today since the traffic was becoming lighter... the devil you know.

Apparently, there's so much swamp in Georgia that they're needing to stack it.

If you're not a bicyclist, you probably don't realize how many discarded items there are along to road. Sure, we see the beer bottles, the diapers, the used prophylactics, and other common trash, but we also see some interesting things as well.

One Cycleblazer, Buddy Hall, lists how much money he finds each day, and usually collects enough to buy a cup of coffee by the end of the tour. (Speaking of which, I was really happy to have found a five dollar bill and a one dollar bill a few days ago - they were in my jersey pocket.) On one trip, Buddy started picking up tools, and the collection was impressive. There's also a forum discussion started by Jeff Lee about the most expensive thing found on the road. His was a $500 pair of sunglasses.

When I see something, I wonder "Should I keep that?" The used condoms are pretty unlikely to come in handy, but on occasion I'll see something that might. Yesterday I saw a shirt with a sewn-on name tag that said "Robert," and thought, "Throw it in the washing machine and I can fit in at the next dive bar I go to."

Unfortunately, the fantasy continues to play out: Unless I find some pants as well (which is a real possibility) I'd be wearing bike shorts. But even if do find the appropriate clothing, throw in my bubba teeth, and walk around saying, "Howdy! I'm one a y’all!" I still picture a guy with a similar shirt that says "Butch," or "Bubba" coming over to me. "Hey.... You ain't Bobby. Bobby's daid. Why you wearin' his shirt?" Then squinting his eyes at me as if he's trying to figure it out.

All of that played through my mind as I rolled past that shirt, which already looked pretty clean and was draped nicely on a fence... No, I sighed, not this time. But I'll find another Gift From The Road if I just keep riding.

...and, of course, I did.

Another double take when I saw it, and I even turned the bike around to collect it. What will I do with it? I have no idea, but I just couldn't leave it there. I just couldn't.

I strapped it to my rack, taking care to cover its eyes so it couldn't steal my soul.

How in the world will anyone get past a fence like that, especially with those conveniently-placed steps?

In White Oak, there was another opportunity to join the bike path. It was only thirty or forty yards of my route so I thought I'd take a look.

Seeing that I could get around it, I started thinking:
OptimistBrain: There's a path there. It sure looks rideable, and is certainly better than Highway 17.
SmartBrain: "CERTAINLY?!?!" Did you forget the definition of the word?? Don't Do It. Remember your promise from yesterday? "I won't be getting off Highway 17, as horrible as it is, unless I can absolutely prove that it isn't sand, and isn't closed." Do Not Do This. It's a mistake!
PessimistBrain: What are you two arguing about? Ride on 17, get hit by a truck. Ride on this, the only thing they'll find is your underwear waistband.
DumbBrain: It's purdy here. I think I gotta pee.

If you turn around 180 degrees and face the opposite direction, this is what you see. Uncharacteristically, SmartBrain won out this time.

It says "Rising Daughter Missionary Baptist Church."

In an attempt to cut back on eating out at restaurants, I stopped at the Winn-Dixie grocery store and bought a number of items to take with me, especially because I knew I'd need to provide my own breakfast in the morning. After loading all the food into my pannier bags, I looked at The Mask.

My justification for taking it was that even if I don't use it, I'll at least be cleaning up the roadway. Not in an Elvis costume, but still....

If I ride into my lodging with that attached to my bike I might just get escorted out. And I can't pack it into one of my bags without damaging it. Any more than it's already damaged, that is. I considered my options and, with a heavy heart, peered around to make sure no one was looking at me, sighed, then slipped it into the trash can, assured that tonight it will show up at my door with a hatchet.

More of the same, but there at least there are two lanes now.

It doesn't say "Ponderosa," it says "Poederosa," which makes me wonder if the person had a cold when they told the clerk what the street name should be. Alternate theory, less likely: An Edgar Allen Poe fan.

Tonight I found an interesting place to stay: The Hostel in the Forest.

In order to get to it, I had to get on a busy section of Highway 82 (see the above picture), and ended up passing the entrance twice. The handmade sign announcing the entryway wasn't large, and the location wasn't where Google Maps said it was.

When I called yesterday evening I wasn't sure they'd have a place for me, especially since 2025 is their 50th anniversary, but when Jodie found out that I'm on a bicycle she said, "We'll find a space for you. It's our rule. Our very first guest was a biker."

As I pedaled into the forest along a bumpy but solid road, the sounds of traffic, which I'd been hearing almost continuously for the past three weeks, slowly receded. The forest absorbed all of the noise, and even before arriving I felt less tense.

When I arrived I was greeted by a doe-eyed Gen Z young woman who helped me get registered. I learned that it's a membership organization ($10.00), and the charge for a place to stay is $30.00, or whatever you can afford. They don't give the nicer places to people who give more.

During our conversation I asked, as indirectly as I could, how a place like this could make it... "here." She looked at me with her sleepy eyes as if she didn't understand the question.
"You know, with the meditation, and yoga, and spirituality.... in a place, so..... conservative."
"Oh, you know...." was the response. "We manage."

They still use this cool antique to grind their coffee, which is made locally and especially for this hostel.

After the tour of the place I was taken to my cabin and told it was the very first one to be built. They all have names, and mine is Elmo.

I was expecting it to be a "treehouse" only in name, but it's actually a treehouse.

Way less secure than the Wuornos Motel, but not only did I not lock my door, I didn't even put a lock on my bike.

The view from my window. I overlook the chickens and the two roosters. All of the other treehouses are a little farther out.

Before dinner I cleaned up at this outside shower (it has walls). The water was hot and lovely.

Dinner always starts between 6:30-7:00 and is announced with a bell. The dining room is a screened-in building large enough for a long picnic table about 25 feet long and some counters on the end for food. Prior to eating there was a Circle of Thanks in which we all held hands (about twenty people, including staff) and took turns introducing ourselves, telling where we're from, and one thing we're thankful for.

The vegetarian meal was large and had a variety of options, including a curried rice that was "warmer" than I expected, and I was sweating during the meal.

If you've read my journals or the forum, you'll know what an introvert I am, and sitting at an entire table of strangers (especially after being isolated on the road for three weeks) was a little discomfiting. Regardless, I struck up a couple of conversations with some pleasant people.

After dinner everyone pitches in to clean up. I got a wet washcloth and spent 45 minutes cleaning shelves, jars of medicine, equipment, and walls that hadn't seen a rag since the first anniversary. Of the United States.

Although everyone is supposed to clean until all of the chores are done, there were a number of people who just walked around sipping coffee from a mug without having the decency to slip away, then return after the work was done like most people would.

Really, though, I didn't mind. It's kind of nice to see some immediate progress after you've been working on something. In my profession, I rarely saw immediate results, and almost always had to wait months to find out if my assistance was beneficial. My thoughts about the work I was doing were mirrored by Ayla when she mentioned the therapeutic benefit of cleaning. Because she was doing so much work I originally thought she was a staff member and didn't find out until the next morning as I was leaving that she's a guest as well.

After the cleanup, I walked around and took a lot of pictures. I tried to get a shot of all of the treehouses, but some of them were at the end of a long walkway and I felt like a Peeping Tom as I approached the isolated perches.

On two occasions I passed one particular young woman, once near the office and later on a path like this one. She was dressed in Bohemian clothes and both times I saw her she lit up the universe with her smile. She waved, but on neither occasion did she say hello. The second time I saw her I said "hi" just as we passed, and gave her a small wave. Among the trees the noise is so muted that, even as soft-spoken as I am, my voice sounded like a gunshot and I unconsciously covered my mouth with my hand.

More pictures of the treehouses from the creepy Peeping Tom Guy.

I really wanted to take a dip in the "Tub of Tranquility," but the door was locked all three times I passed it. The sounds from behind the door were giggles, and didn't sound at all tranquil.

The lake was a five-minute walk, and I had it all to myself.

Even at full capacity, I felt like I was the only one there.

The Labyrinth is one of the largest in the Southeast, used for meditation and reflection.

The Hostel in the Forest was a good experience, and I recommend anyone traveling through this area to check it out.

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Today's ride: 36 miles (58 km)
Total: 707 miles (1,138 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	12
Comment on this entry	Comment	7

Steve Miller/GrampiesAahhh. A weird and wonderful place to stay, decompress and destress. But one night would be more than enough for us. Too much interaction with other people. We like hotels, where you can spread out your stuff and hide from other people in anonymity.
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1 day ago

Lyle McLeodPretty cool place to stay and quite a juxtaposition to the rest of the day. Not sure how the mask would have fit in @ tranquility.
Ride and write on!
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1 day ago

Carl B.What an awesome place. I have to say it sounds like a place that I’d be tempted to stay at for another night, if only to see what a true 24-hr cycle is like there.
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1 day ago

Nancy GrahamWOW, What a hostel you have found. Sounds perfect for some R&R as well as just to look and think. All those tree house had to have taken a good amount of time and work to construct. Being a bit of an introvert seems to work fairly well here except for the dinner ritual! You don’t seem to run into anyone else.
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1 day ago

Mark BinghamTo Carl B.I’m planning to take some rest days in Savannah; otherwise, I definitely would have - and was tempted anyway.
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1 day ago

Rich FrasierSuch a cool place. Thanks for being brave and trying it!
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1 day ago

Larry FrahmThis place is almost unbelievable. Like something from a scifi movie. It made me think of the Ewok village in Star Wars. Really a cool place.
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16 hours ago