Trees that, viewed from a bridge, look like a frog.  Or maybe you had to be there.  And marsh so vast, it stretches to the horizon.

We stopped to listen to the birds, the water and the wind.  The few cars we saw did not upset the birds.  We, however, are unusual, so at our approach, birds dived or flew.  We couldn’t snap their pics to share the fun.  Sorry!

North Carolina takes care of its babies.

East of Bogue, at the edge of the Croatan National Forest, we saw Brandon.  He let us take his picture.  Despite breathing vehicle exhaust for a living, his color is better than Lady Liberty’s, who is a bit green about the gills.  When Brandon went with his dad to the observation deck in the Empire State Building, the weather was clear.  What a view for a kid from small-town Virginia!

The overwhelming majority of drivers are courteous to us.  This sign says we belong.  But on NC 24, what passes for the shoulder is a line of low-set concrete slabs covered with debris.  We couldn’t stay near the curb.

Jeffrey generally waves at drivers we pass at intersections — to be friendly, and to see them wave back so he knows they see us.  When he waved at one young man, the guy looked startled.  Jeffrey thought he had awakened the guy from a daydream.

Minutes later, we were passed by the same guy, who flagged us down.

Jeffrey accepts the risks of cycling.  But Graham convinced him that at this hour of the day, with the sun in the eyes of drivers approaching us from behind and the busy Marine Corps’ Camp Lejeune gate a few miles ahead, we would be better off continuing to Jacksonville in the morning.  A Hampton Inn was just down the road, we already had clocked 68 miles today, so we decided to stop in Swansboro.

En route to the hotel, Jeffrey talked to Marty, who owns the Church Street Irish Pub.  Marty is a farmer, military veteran, former smoke jumper, chef, etc., etc.  Like the Harrier pilot we met yesterday, Marty was surprised to hear how many refugees come to the U.S. and disturbed at how many of them are jailed (sometimes for years) while their cases are processed. He said some of his neighbors complain that “Mexicans” are “taking jobs” from Americans, but he answers that newcomers do hard jobs that Americans don’t want.

At the hotel – whose manager was so taken with the Ride that he put a link to this blog on the hotel’s Facebook page – Jeffrey met Pat, a salesman for Bil-Jac dog food.  Pat is particularly worried about the persecution of Christians abroad.  Pat, a Navy veteran who did two tours in Vietnam, discussed family, languages, theater, movies, the Supreme Court, NYC (he loved to visit way back when), dogs – and the ethical duty to help the stranger, something on which thoughtful people seem to find it easy to agree.