Under the Shoulders of Giants.

Meadville, PA - From London to Woodstock, tall shoulders of darkened clouds loomed menacingly in front of us, backlit by short, staccato flashes. But the sky shrugged as we turned south toward bluer horizons.

Headed to the Outer Banks in North Carolina - and possibly as far as Charleston, South Carolina and Savannah, Georgia - we took to the road this afternoon and put 427 kilometres under our tires, to just north of Pittsburgh.

Neglecting to check that the GPS was set for “fastest route,” rather than “shortest route,” Hamilton became our foil as we negotiated construction and the madness of Steeltown’s streets. Not the prettiest way to begin a journey.

Farther along, a series of rainbows arced over the trees that lined upstate New York’s rolling roads – prisms set against the charcoal-smudged canvas above. On the I90, the best sign of the day advertised “Fireworks and Karate Supplies.” Only in America.

Not until the last half hour did the rain catch us as fog seeped from the forests and a pink smear descended in the sky. At that, the tires stopped spinning for the day.