Saturday May 31, 2008
4:30am I woke up again. Not even close to daylight, but dawn could not wait. I emerged in the dark, broke down camp, repacked my bags (with this much gear, everything has it's place and if it isn't put in it's place, the bags won't close), and left town with a flashing headlamp on my helmet and a red tail light on my bike.
Before leaving, the Immodium I took was wearing off. Not willing to go into the brush, where yesterday when inquring about "restrooms" I was warned there may be snakes, I found a unfortunately more noticeable place behind the Community Center that would enable me to "have some back support". Immodium must do some strange stuff to the human body to enable such a shutoff valve. What happened next happened with such pressure it may have exceeded yesterdays wind speed. Normally concerned about how I leave a campsite, I had no concerns this time.
Biking away in the dark was interesting: Deer jumping over nearby fences, sounds that cannot be identified, etc. One car on Hwy 90 even pulled over to wait for me to approach not sure what they were seeing from a distance given my flashing headlamp. I should've taken the opportunity to swerve all across the road and maybe take my glowing headlamp and throw it to simulate a UFO or something that would give them something to tell Mary Ann and Joan the next day over a burger.
It wasn't long before twilight: 6:15am. I passed the turnoff for Pumpville. So many of these towns have their history rooted int he railroad. Every 30 miles or so there was a water station to provide water for the steam locomotives. People on the train wanted to get off while the trains were refilling with water, and there were employees needed for the water refilling, thus a town was born. Pumpville's fate was worse than Langtry's. After steam went by the wayside, the trains went right on by. All that remains of Pumpville is a church.
I wasn't interested in the turnoff to Pumpville. I had enough hills and canyons that challenged me this morning, just like yesterday. There would be no extra spurs to my route today. An upcoming town named Dryden was an unknown to me. I had inquired with people what might be there since it was the only thing between Langtry and Sanderson. Some folks said nothing was there at all, but one person told me there was a store. I was hoping the one person was right.
Due to the early start today, at 9:30am I had made the 40 miles from Langtry to Dryden. Lo and behold, a store was not only there but OPEN! Pleased, I rolled up and while parking the bike, met the mailman who delivers mail from Del Rio to Sanderson. That is a 120 mile route.
Walking inside, the man who owns the store was sitting at the table talking with a local named Charlie Sikes. Charlie is kind of a local. He and his wife live in Houston, but they "bought a place here". Where that place was, I have no idea as this was the only place I saw for 40 miles. Charlie's wife talked me into having breakfast since you can order just about anything you want. The dining style here is... if you're thirsty, get up and go get yourself a drink from the refrigerated cases, if you're hungry, get up and get yourself something to eat, and before you leave, tell us what you had and pay for it. After talking with Charlie and the owner about my trip, being asked "Why are you doing this?" by Charlie and having the owner man respond "because it's there" (which is kinda right), Charlie said "it never bothered me none that it was there" and we all started laughing, on my part, maybe due to lack of sleep. Charlie and his wife had first come to the store to get 4 bags of feed for the deer, but with how Charlie was set in that chair when I walked in, there seemed to be no rush. As I was leaving, he and the others had gathered around the bags of feed, but were all just leaning on it, talking. It may have been a Dryden Community Meeting taking place as I think all residents were present.
Back on the road at 10:30am, the next 20 miles were brutal. The hills and canyons were up and down throughout, and given the lack of sleep, I wasn't sure if I would make it. The owner of the store at Dryden had said "oh yeah, right before Sanderson, you will cross that last big hill. If you can make it up that, you will feel like Superman and coast for the next few miles into town with your chest inflated." Each big hill I came to, I thought "Is this the one?" only to find another one behind it. 3 miles from Sanderson, I saw a picnic shelter. Not much to it, no restrooms or water, but a table shielded from the sun. I rode up to it, dismounted the bike in a clumsy way I am sure, and layed on the table. A trucker was parked nearby, but it wasn't long after my arrival that he left. "On my own now" I thought, as if he would come over and say "hey, let me take you into town". After a 10 minute cooling period just short of the "I'm never leaving" stage, I started pedaling again. I never saw another hill like those I had seen before, and I never coasted into town. The owner in Dryden was wrong. He must've been thinking of another road, though I don't think there is another one out here.
Renewed by my arrival at my destination town, I went to the Shamrock gas station where I met Phyllis over a cold Coke. This was Phyllis' last day working here before retirement. On the inside walls of the station, there were the pieces of art that were once a coloring contest. "That was from 15 years ago" Phyllis said. "We tear them off and give it to them when they graduate from highschool." Cute.
Before I left to go settle in at the guesthouse of Alpine-resident Liz Rogers, a little Mexican grandma was being lead to the front door of the Shamrock station. I opened the door for her and said "Come in where it is cool." She hesitated and responded "No ingles." So I said it in spanish. She commented "Hace calor... mucho calor" and seemed pleased with our simple exchange.
After cleaning up and settling in at the house, I went to the Public Library in this town of 861 residents. Arriving in the open hour window of 2pm-5pm, I did a quick preliminary update of my blog, before searching for a restaurant for dinner. The only place I could find was a bar that was open. Confirming they served pizza, I ordered one from the same woman I saw in the library. Her name was Bonnie and she likely beat me in here only by a few minutes to start her bartending shift. Unique place as the bottled beer is stored in ice coolers like you might bring to a tailgate party. It was all good by me. I had a beer, ate my pizza, and went home to collapse.
start time: 5:48am
end time: 12:30pm, maybe later. Was just glad to be done.
time on bike: 4:44:55
mileage: 59.86 miles
avg speed: 12.60 mph
max spped: 38.60 mph. I wonder if my brakes work?
calories: 4,502
conditions: Hot. 99F. I wasn't sure I could pull off the final 3 miles, but I did.
End elevation: 2,793 ft but I had to climb to that many times. I hate canyons.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Amistad/Del Rio, TX to Langtry, TX (49 miles)
Friday May 29, 2008
A few of the following will be included in this story when I have time to write it.
I loaded the new 3L of water onto the rear rack of my bike in preparation for long stretches of desert without stores, etc. It beat spending the money on a Camelbak ($40) and trying to keep it clean (I have seen pictures of what those things looked like inside after a cross country ride, very moldy). My cost was simply $1.50, but it gave me some security (and extra weight) as I started this stretch.
Not far down the road, before Comstock, I reached a Border Control checkpoint. They stop cars and ask questions to verify your citizenship, etc. As I rolled up, the agent said "Are you crazy???!!!" "Maybe", I told him. He offered water stating "most cyclists ask for it here", but I was fine, even without my new 3L stash. Instead I went in to the trailer to use the bathroom. Three agents total... two males, one female. She was in the bathroom before me, and didn't look pleased to see me as she came out. Not knowing why I got that from her, I stepped inside. I think it would be cruel and unusual punishment if they could bottle that smell and use it against illegal immigrants, but it explained why she wasn't happy to see me going in there right away. A few photos of their vehicles later (photos of agents are not allowed), and I was back on the road.
Comstock TX: a small unincorprated place with a unique little store named Holley's. I believe Holley is a widow having told me her husband had a service garage here. When she would go into Del Rio, 30 miles away, she started buying 2 of what she needed and kept 1 of each item for sale. It worked, and her husband's garage turned into Holley's little convenience store. Remnants of the service garage are still existant. Though Holley intends to clean up the other half of the former garage site and expand the store to sell more "curios" as she called them (knick nacks), she was seen packaging used tires for sale and was marking the price on them while I warmed up my homemade brisket sandwich. She also explained that the gas pumps haven't been working for a while, and she is frustrated that the people haven't come to fix them because people pull in for gas and then she can't help them.
The diesel pump works, but because the price has escalated beyond the level anyone who made these pumps ever expected back then, she sells it by the half-gallon. You pay twice the total price you see on the pump.
I crossed the Pecos River on the way to Langtry. Some use the Pecos River to define West Texas. The PEcos River there is beautiful and I snapped many photos. While doing so, a tarantula walked past me. They say they are harmless to people, but man, they sure don't look nice.
Langtry, adjacent to a bend in the Rio Grande, was a challenging 60 miles from the start. 60 miles filled with elevation gains only to be followed by canyons where you gave it all back. Glad to be at the halfway point to Sanderson from Del Rio (the two places with more than a couple houses), I came to the Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center. There is little here besides the JRB Visitor Center, but Judge Roy Bean was such a prominent figure in Texas history that they preserved his saloon/justice hall as well as his house and an Opera House he built in hopes of luring to town a theatrical dame he was hooked silly on. The Judge was nothing more than a soloon owner with hopes of getting rich off the railroad workers. But then crime peaked to a level that the railroad demanded a lawman be appointed in that area of Texas. Roy got the call. He held court in his saloon and had his own brand of justice. For example: Gunfights were illegal. After one of the men died, he went to the body, found the gun under his collapsed frame, checked his pockets and found $41. His verdict was quick: For the crime of the concealed weapon, based on the evidence found, the fine was $41. Of course he kept the guns and money for himself. Although some might think he was a hanging judge, he never did. Instead he would take the gun and money of any evil-doer, anbd send them out of town to never return again. Getting around back then without a gun or money was a death sentence in itself. I've got more tales about Judge Roy Bean I'll share in person soemtime.
The Visitor Center allows long distance cyclists to use their restrooms while camping at the Community Hall across the road a ways. Trick is the Visitor Center closes at 6pm. After that, you better tighten up. Seeing a store across the street, I thought I would do a bit of recon. The store closes at 5pm. The post office (hard to believe they have one here), which is a single room with a locking door attached to the store, closes at Noon, and, despite my intent to send postcards, it was closed. After a quick burger at THEE gas station & restaurant (also closes at 5pm) where Mary Ann made me a burger while her mom, Joan, made small talk, I left the Visitor Center to set up camp. Finding the right spot for the tent wasn't difficult. There was only one shaded (but super windy) side at 7pm, and there were piles of goat droppings to avoid. As I set up the tent, a young dog from the neighboring house came over barking. Having enough of dogs on this trip, I charged him full speed and he ran away, but the barking got the attention of one of the 7-pickup-truck-owners who lived in the house nextdoor. I gave him a small wave that indicated "yeah I see ya, but I don't want to talk to you". He did the same. After I got the tent set up in crazy winds, I crawled inside my 95-degree home and just spread out. Shortly after, being Friday, the fellas from the 7-truck-house, came outside to drink beer and tell stories. All were Mexicans. They stayed out there well after the sun went down, turning on a porchlight ridiculously bright, almost to be considered a beacon. I think the temp cooled off around 10pm, and they went inside around 11:30pm. Finally, I fell asleep. At 1:30am, new voices emerged. There was no new vehicle, but new voices. They threw a can at the door of the 7-truck-house, and a man emerged probably expecting it was me. "What's up?" he said in English. Then the spanish flowed for the next 10 minutes, followed by all of them getting in one truck and heading off without lights on. From the spanish I could understand, I think a deal was being brokered to drive the "new arrivals" inland. I rolled over, struggling to get any sleep, and awaiting dawn.
start time: 7:21am
end time: Noon-ish (but too late to mail a postcard since the Post Office closes at Noon)
time on bike: 3:28:59
mileage: 49.15 miles
avg speed: 14.11 mph
max speed: 37.66 mph (I wonder what the speed rating of my helmet, or my skull, is)
calories: 3,708
conditions: Deep canyons between Comstock and Langtry swiping the elevation I worked so hard to gain, only to make me have to earn it again. Hot!!!! 95F
Elevation: I think around 1,500 ft
A few of the following will be included in this story when I have time to write it.
I loaded the new 3L of water onto the rear rack of my bike in preparation for long stretches of desert without stores, etc. It beat spending the money on a Camelbak ($40) and trying to keep it clean (I have seen pictures of what those things looked like inside after a cross country ride, very moldy). My cost was simply $1.50, but it gave me some security (and extra weight) as I started this stretch.
Not far down the road, before Comstock, I reached a Border Control checkpoint. They stop cars and ask questions to verify your citizenship, etc. As I rolled up, the agent said "Are you crazy???!!!" "Maybe", I told him. He offered water stating "most cyclists ask for it here", but I was fine, even without my new 3L stash. Instead I went in to the trailer to use the bathroom. Three agents total... two males, one female. She was in the bathroom before me, and didn't look pleased to see me as she came out. Not knowing why I got that from her, I stepped inside. I think it would be cruel and unusual punishment if they could bottle that smell and use it against illegal immigrants, but it explained why she wasn't happy to see me going in there right away. A few photos of their vehicles later (photos of agents are not allowed), and I was back on the road.
Comstock TX: a small unincorprated place with a unique little store named Holley's. I believe Holley is a widow having told me her husband had a service garage here. When she would go into Del Rio, 30 miles away, she started buying 2 of what she needed and kept 1 of each item for sale. It worked, and her husband's garage turned into Holley's little convenience store. Remnants of the service garage are still existant. Though Holley intends to clean up the other half of the former garage site and expand the store to sell more "curios" as she called them (knick nacks), she was seen packaging used tires for sale and was marking the price on them while I warmed up my homemade brisket sandwich. She also explained that the gas pumps haven't been working for a while, and she is frustrated that the people haven't come to fix them because people pull in for gas and then she can't help them.
The diesel pump works, but because the price has escalated beyond the level anyone who made these pumps ever expected back then, she sells it by the half-gallon. You pay twice the total price you see on the pump.
I crossed the Pecos River on the way to Langtry. Some use the Pecos River to define West Texas. The PEcos River there is beautiful and I snapped many photos. While doing so, a tarantula walked past me. They say they are harmless to people, but man, they sure don't look nice.
Langtry, adjacent to a bend in the Rio Grande, was a challenging 60 miles from the start. 60 miles filled with elevation gains only to be followed by canyons where you gave it all back. Glad to be at the halfway point to Sanderson from Del Rio (the two places with more than a couple houses), I came to the Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center. There is little here besides the JRB Visitor Center, but Judge Roy Bean was such a prominent figure in Texas history that they preserved his saloon/justice hall as well as his house and an Opera House he built in hopes of luring to town a theatrical dame he was hooked silly on. The Judge was nothing more than a soloon owner with hopes of getting rich off the railroad workers. But then crime peaked to a level that the railroad demanded a lawman be appointed in that area of Texas. Roy got the call. He held court in his saloon and had his own brand of justice. For example: Gunfights were illegal. After one of the men died, he went to the body, found the gun under his collapsed frame, checked his pockets and found $41. His verdict was quick: For the crime of the concealed weapon, based on the evidence found, the fine was $41. Of course he kept the guns and money for himself. Although some might think he was a hanging judge, he never did. Instead he would take the gun and money of any evil-doer, anbd send them out of town to never return again. Getting around back then without a gun or money was a death sentence in itself. I've got more tales about Judge Roy Bean I'll share in person soemtime.
The Visitor Center allows long distance cyclists to use their restrooms while camping at the Community Hall across the road a ways. Trick is the Visitor Center closes at 6pm. After that, you better tighten up. Seeing a store across the street, I thought I would do a bit of recon. The store closes at 5pm. The post office (hard to believe they have one here), which is a single room with a locking door attached to the store, closes at Noon, and, despite my intent to send postcards, it was closed. After a quick burger at THEE gas station & restaurant (also closes at 5pm) where Mary Ann made me a burger while her mom, Joan, made small talk, I left the Visitor Center to set up camp. Finding the right spot for the tent wasn't difficult. There was only one shaded (but super windy) side at 7pm, and there were piles of goat droppings to avoid. As I set up the tent, a young dog from the neighboring house came over barking. Having enough of dogs on this trip, I charged him full speed and he ran away, but the barking got the attention of one of the 7-pickup-truck-owners who lived in the house nextdoor. I gave him a small wave that indicated "yeah I see ya, but I don't want to talk to you". He did the same. After I got the tent set up in crazy winds, I crawled inside my 95-degree home and just spread out. Shortly after, being Friday, the fellas from the 7-truck-house, came outside to drink beer and tell stories. All were Mexicans. They stayed out there well after the sun went down, turning on a porchlight ridiculously bright, almost to be considered a beacon. I think the temp cooled off around 10pm, and they went inside around 11:30pm. Finally, I fell asleep. At 1:30am, new voices emerged. There was no new vehicle, but new voices. They threw a can at the door of the 7-truck-house, and a man emerged probably expecting it was me. "What's up?" he said in English. Then the spanish flowed for the next 10 minutes, followed by all of them getting in one truck and heading off without lights on. From the spanish I could understand, I think a deal was being brokered to drive the "new arrivals" inland. I rolled over, struggling to get any sleep, and awaiting dawn.
start time: 7:21am
end time: Noon-ish (but too late to mail a postcard since the Post Office closes at Noon)
time on bike: 3:28:59
mileage: 49.15 miles
avg speed: 14.11 mph
max speed: 37.66 mph (I wonder what the speed rating of my helmet, or my skull, is)
calories: 3,708
conditions: Deep canyons between Comstock and Langtry swiping the elevation I worked so hard to gain, only to make me have to earn it again. Hot!!!! 95F
Elevation: I think around 1,500 ft
Bracketville, TX to Amistad Nat'l Rec Center, TX (43 miles)
Thursday May 29, 2008
Awake at 5:45am and out riding by 7:11am. A simple wave to the guard at the front of Fort Clark Springs suggested I wasn't on a wanted list for the photo taking yesterday.
75 degrees F, slight tail winds to push me along, and flat roads made an easy ride to Del Rio.
Averaged 15-16 mph, which is moving nicely.
Speaking of moving nicely, it isn't easy to move nicely from Mexico to the US in this area.
San Diego has border patrol, but I have never seen anything like the number of agents near Bracketville/Del Rio. Look at a map and you will see Del Rio is right there next to Mexico with only the Rio Grande separating the two countries. As I pedalled on, there were often border patrol vehicles on dirt frontage roads scanning the scrub rangeland for signs of illegal immigrants. Some would have a guy staring at the dirt road itself looking for footprints at which point they would stop and investigate. I have seen sets of big tires chained together on these roads. The Border Patrol drags these tires behind their vehicles to wipe the slate clean, increasing the odds of seeing a fresh footprint during their next round. To my Mexican Brother-In-Law: knowing you might be interested in a long-haul bike trip...I suggest you find another route to bike. I can only imagine you would make very few miles each day being stopped and interrogated frequently.
No interrogations for me though. I arrived to Del Rio super early. Too early to stop for the day. Well, not too early for Dairy Queen I thought. I pulled in and found Jesus, a local exterminator doing his regular work outside. The restaurant was not open yet. He and a delivery driver were trying to get the attention of the kid inside, but because the kid had headphones on, it was impossible. Jesus and I had a nice talk about Del Rio (a "calm place" he called it) and the ride I was on, among other topics, while I was waiting for DQ to open it's doors. Oddly enough, Jesus lived and worked in Berlin, Wisconsin. Being from Wisconsin, our conversation went on. Seeing me give up on DQ, Jesus directed me to a nearby IHOP.
Misty had never met anyone biking across country before. And I had never met a pancake platter I didn't like, so I got along just fine with the waitress at IHOP. After I left and was unlocking my bike, Micheal, a hitchhiker carrying a Whattaburger soda cup, walked up to me. Definitely in the mood to talk, he told me about how his fiance' in Del Rio had cheated on him and despite their plans to get married this weekend, he was leaving to go back to El Paso. On the lawn of IHOP, we shared some "girls are evil" stories with eachother having plenty of them in our own mental luggage. I just wanted Micheal to know I knew where he was at. I challenged him to get to El Paso before I do and gave him the projected date of June 8th. "If I see you, I'm buying lunch" he said as we parted.
Continuing on Hwy 90 past Del Rio, I came to Amistad National Recreation Center. Well get this! At one time MExico and the US worked together real nicely. In fact, in 1969, the two nations built a dam of the Rio Grande to ensure that in dry seasons, there would be ample water to provide for people in the nearby areas of both countries. At the Visitor Center, the Park Ranger (?) helped me with my planning, showing me a topographic map of the area. He liked what I was doing but said he would need to do it with a group to get some time with people. I told him that this visit into the Visitor Center was my "time with people", though it seems I meet them hitchiking as well.
Looking ahead, I decided I wasn't ready to go too much further today based on accomodation availability and mileage, so I stopped at the Amistad Lake Resort. The lady behind the desk (Judy?) offered me a 15% discount because my ride is for charity. The motel is definitely not new, but included a basic room with a restaurant and gas station nearby. These are ideal for a cyclist. Dinner and supplies for tomorrow are footsteps away. After doing a bit of sink laundry and drying it almost instantly in the wind and heat out by the daytime-abandoned but remarkably clean swimming pool, I went to get some dinner. Lisa, the bartender helped me out, and after finding out I live in San Diego, told me that Byron, the owner, is "from out there somewhere". After Byron was done hanging with two drinking buddies telling fish stories (literally), he came to the bar. Byron is from Huntington Beach and a professional fisherman. He found this place locked up when he was at Amistad Lake and decided he was tired of pulling his boat trailer through Southern California traffic, instead to make a go of it with a highschool buddy turned business partner out here near Del Rio.
I had noticed on the margherita list that there was one called "Byron the Bachelor" Margeherita. It was pricey, so I skipped it, but it was good to meet the guy who has a drink named after him. (Days later, I found out that Byron was indeed The Bachelor from the reality TV show, The Bachelor. I was also told that he is still with the girl he picked fromt he show and they are very happy. The assault charge she was booked with tells a slightly different story, but, base don my experience, I chalk it up to latina fire. The mystery is that some non-latinas have the latina fire.)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Byron_Velvick
start time: 7:11am
end time: 11:30am
time on bike: 2:57:31
mileage: 42.55
avg speed: 14.38 mph
max speed: 26.62 mph
calories: 3,320
conditions: flat, 85F, tailwind, nice easy ride.
An easy ride today. Todays story will include border patrol agents, Jesus the exterminator, IHOP Misty, hitchhiker Mike from El Paso, and Huntington Beach-native Byron who owns the motel I stayed at.
start time: 7:11am
end time: 11:30am
time on bike: 2:57:31
mileage: 42.55 miles
avg speed: 14.38 mph
max speed: 26.62 mph
calories: 3,320
conditions: fast, flat, nice tailwind making the ride easy.
Awake at 5:45am and out riding by 7:11am. A simple wave to the guard at the front of Fort Clark Springs suggested I wasn't on a wanted list for the photo taking yesterday.
75 degrees F, slight tail winds to push me along, and flat roads made an easy ride to Del Rio.
Averaged 15-16 mph, which is moving nicely.
Speaking of moving nicely, it isn't easy to move nicely from Mexico to the US in this area.
San Diego has border patrol, but I have never seen anything like the number of agents near Bracketville/Del Rio. Look at a map and you will see Del Rio is right there next to Mexico with only the Rio Grande separating the two countries. As I pedalled on, there were often border patrol vehicles on dirt frontage roads scanning the scrub rangeland for signs of illegal immigrants. Some would have a guy staring at the dirt road itself looking for footprints at which point they would stop and investigate. I have seen sets of big tires chained together on these roads. The Border Patrol drags these tires behind their vehicles to wipe the slate clean, increasing the odds of seeing a fresh footprint during their next round. To my Mexican Brother-In-Law: knowing you might be interested in a long-haul bike trip...I suggest you find another route to bike. I can only imagine you would make very few miles each day being stopped and interrogated frequently.
No interrogations for me though. I arrived to Del Rio super early. Too early to stop for the day. Well, not too early for Dairy Queen I thought. I pulled in and found Jesus, a local exterminator doing his regular work outside. The restaurant was not open yet. He and a delivery driver were trying to get the attention of the kid inside, but because the kid had headphones on, it was impossible. Jesus and I had a nice talk about Del Rio (a "calm place" he called it) and the ride I was on, among other topics, while I was waiting for DQ to open it's doors. Oddly enough, Jesus lived and worked in Berlin, Wisconsin. Being from Wisconsin, our conversation went on. Seeing me give up on DQ, Jesus directed me to a nearby IHOP.
Misty had never met anyone biking across country before. And I had never met a pancake platter I didn't like, so I got along just fine with the waitress at IHOP. After I left and was unlocking my bike, Micheal, a hitchhiker carrying a Whattaburger soda cup, walked up to me. Definitely in the mood to talk, he told me about how his fiance' in Del Rio had cheated on him and despite their plans to get married this weekend, he was leaving to go back to El Paso. On the lawn of IHOP, we shared some "girls are evil" stories with eachother having plenty of them in our own mental luggage. I just wanted Micheal to know I knew where he was at. I challenged him to get to El Paso before I do and gave him the projected date of June 8th. "If I see you, I'm buying lunch" he said as we parted.
Continuing on Hwy 90 past Del Rio, I came to Amistad National Recreation Center. Well get this! At one time MExico and the US worked together real nicely. In fact, in 1969, the two nations built a dam of the Rio Grande to ensure that in dry seasons, there would be ample water to provide for people in the nearby areas of both countries. At the Visitor Center, the Park Ranger (?) helped me with my planning, showing me a topographic map of the area. He liked what I was doing but said he would need to do it with a group to get some time with people. I told him that this visit into the Visitor Center was my "time with people", though it seems I meet them hitchiking as well.
Looking ahead, I decided I wasn't ready to go too much further today based on accomodation availability and mileage, so I stopped at the Amistad Lake Resort. The lady behind the desk (Judy?) offered me a 15% discount because my ride is for charity. The motel is definitely not new, but included a basic room with a restaurant and gas station nearby. These are ideal for a cyclist. Dinner and supplies for tomorrow are footsteps away. After doing a bit of sink laundry and drying it almost instantly in the wind and heat out by the daytime-abandoned but remarkably clean swimming pool, I went to get some dinner. Lisa, the bartender helped me out, and after finding out I live in San Diego, told me that Byron, the owner, is "from out there somewhere". After Byron was done hanging with two drinking buddies telling fish stories (literally), he came to the bar. Byron is from Huntington Beach and a professional fisherman. He found this place locked up when he was at Amistad Lake and decided he was tired of pulling his boat trailer through Southern California traffic, instead to make a go of it with a highschool buddy turned business partner out here near Del Rio.
I had noticed on the margherita list that there was one called "Byron the Bachelor" Margeherita. It was pricey, so I skipped it, but it was good to meet the guy who has a drink named after him. (Days later, I found out that Byron was indeed The Bachelor from the reality TV show, The Bachelor. I was also told that he is still with the girl he picked fromt he show and they are very happy. The assault charge she was booked with tells a slightly different story, but, base don my experience, I chalk it up to latina fire. The mystery is that some non-latinas have the latina fire.)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Byron_Velvick
start time: 7:11am
end time: 11:30am
time on bike: 2:57:31
mileage: 42.55
avg speed: 14.38 mph
max speed: 26.62 mph
calories: 3,320
conditions: flat, 85F, tailwind, nice easy ride.
An easy ride today. Todays story will include border patrol agents, Jesus the exterminator, IHOP Misty, hitchhiker Mike from El Paso, and Huntington Beach-native Byron who owns the motel I stayed at.
start time: 7:11am
end time: 11:30am
time on bike: 2:57:31
mileage: 42.55 miles
avg speed: 14.38 mph
max speed: 26.62 mph
calories: 3,320
conditions: fast, flat, nice tailwind making the ride easy.
San Antonio, TX to Bracketville, TX
Wednesday May 28, 2008
Groggy and sleepy-eyed I woke at 6:45am and sprung out of bed to say goodbye to Leslie (Ben's wife) since she was heading to work. Dragging my feet a little, I was finally ready to go by 11:30am after last minute research since the West Texas strecth makes me a bit nervous. I mean, if you don't plan well (knowing where you can get food, water, and stay for the night), your trip could end, and not positively.
Not wanting to morph into a tumbleweed with dry cracked lips, I spent a lot of time making sure I knew what was where in West Texas before setting off. The plan today was simply to get a lift well out of San Antonio and a boost to Bracketville right on Hwy 90 where I would start pedaling tomorrow. Simple enough.
Not even into one hour into the ride, just after commenting to Ben that his 1998 Ford Ranger was still looking good (and his confirmation it was working well too), the temperature gauge on the truck was pegged as we had reached Castroville (a west of San Antonio suburb). A pop of the hood and a quick look showed something that looked like Yahoo or Nestle Quik in his radiator. A few less than environmentally friendly actions later, and we decided to let the truck cool before giving it a trial run. That is when we met the friendly yet aggressive bully host of Pizza Hut, Carolyn.
As soon as we walked in the Pizza Hut door, her friendly but loud voice hit us "You fellas having the buffet?!" Um, well, I guess so. "Whatcha drinkin?" Um, whatever you think I should have, I guess. She was a 65-year old-ish woman with tight high gray hair and what may have been some new wrinkle-hiding makeup. After finishing our meals, she came by to talk a bit. Having found we had a breakdown, she recommended "Go to Albino's Garage down 90 just a bit more. They are good people. They'll treat you real fair." Satisfied with this advice, but hoping our analysis and environment-tainting actions fixed the problem, we were preparing to leave. She added "Ask for Mike. I play poker with him on Tuesdays sometimes." This was unexpected. I wondered if she ever intimidated Mike and others into folding when they likely had a winning hand.
Well, our fix didn't take. So down the road we found our way to Albino's and met Mike. Mike was a 37 year old guy with a young face, married with kids. Tired of working on the Toyota he had in the air, he looked happy to see a new project roll up. A quick diagnosis followed by a "I failed to maintain my vehicle, gosh, I am so embarrassed" confession by Ben, a side conversation about Mike's hobby of racing vehicles back when gas was cheaper, and Mike made a quick trip to the local NAPA. An hour or more later, and we were ready to go. Failed thermostat, potentially clogged by the sludge rolling through the cooling system. Albino's was a unique repair shop. Probably the only one I have ever seen with a piano in the waiting room.
In Bracketville, we found a restaurant named Julies. After entertaining oursleves in the roller-chairs they have, I had a BLT, while Ben had catfish. A local woman sat near us and after a couple questions from me about where the motel was, she asked questions about my trip. Her face suggested I would die, but her words were kind of supportive, kind of. After her dinner friends showed up, they were genuinely supportive and encouraging. Glad to see they weren't all suggesting hanging it up.
The story of Bracketville and neighboring Fort Clark Springs in a nutshell:
Fort Clark is a historic place. The last fort in the US to actively train and use cavalry. Now a privately owned place, it was once used as a military installation in US-Mexico wars, as well as the various wars with the Indians. To support the fort, Bracketville (first known as Bracket until the Post Office suggested the name change because there was already a Bracket, TX) popped up and provided supplies, etc. Tonight, I stayed at the only motel in town: Fort Clark Springs. The 12-room (estimate) motel was the barracks for the troops stationed there at one time. It was actually really nice, and the place should be seen if you ever go through there. They have a quirky no-photo policy, but I have a no-listen policy sometimes, too, so it worked out.
Tonight I went to bed filled with both anticipation and excitement for a portion of the trip I so heavily researched and planned, as well as anxiety that there was something I had forgotten or would come up at the wrong time in the middle of nowhere.
Groggy and sleepy-eyed I woke at 6:45am and sprung out of bed to say goodbye to Leslie (Ben's wife) since she was heading to work. Dragging my feet a little, I was finally ready to go by 11:30am after last minute research since the West Texas strecth makes me a bit nervous. I mean, if you don't plan well (knowing where you can get food, water, and stay for the night), your trip could end, and not positively.
Not wanting to morph into a tumbleweed with dry cracked lips, I spent a lot of time making sure I knew what was where in West Texas before setting off. The plan today was simply to get a lift well out of San Antonio and a boost to Bracketville right on Hwy 90 where I would start pedaling tomorrow. Simple enough.
Not even into one hour into the ride, just after commenting to Ben that his 1998 Ford Ranger was still looking good (and his confirmation it was working well too), the temperature gauge on the truck was pegged as we had reached Castroville (a west of San Antonio suburb). A pop of the hood and a quick look showed something that looked like Yahoo or Nestle Quik in his radiator. A few less than environmentally friendly actions later, and we decided to let the truck cool before giving it a trial run. That is when we met the friendly yet aggressive bully host of Pizza Hut, Carolyn.
As soon as we walked in the Pizza Hut door, her friendly but loud voice hit us "You fellas having the buffet?!" Um, well, I guess so. "Whatcha drinkin?" Um, whatever you think I should have, I guess. She was a 65-year old-ish woman with tight high gray hair and what may have been some new wrinkle-hiding makeup. After finishing our meals, she came by to talk a bit. Having found we had a breakdown, she recommended "Go to Albino's Garage down 90 just a bit more. They are good people. They'll treat you real fair." Satisfied with this advice, but hoping our analysis and environment-tainting actions fixed the problem, we were preparing to leave. She added "Ask for Mike. I play poker with him on Tuesdays sometimes." This was unexpected. I wondered if she ever intimidated Mike and others into folding when they likely had a winning hand.
Well, our fix didn't take. So down the road we found our way to Albino's and met Mike. Mike was a 37 year old guy with a young face, married with kids. Tired of working on the Toyota he had in the air, he looked happy to see a new project roll up. A quick diagnosis followed by a "I failed to maintain my vehicle, gosh, I am so embarrassed" confession by Ben, a side conversation about Mike's hobby of racing vehicles back when gas was cheaper, and Mike made a quick trip to the local NAPA. An hour or more later, and we were ready to go. Failed thermostat, potentially clogged by the sludge rolling through the cooling system. Albino's was a unique repair shop. Probably the only one I have ever seen with a piano in the waiting room.
In Bracketville, we found a restaurant named Julies. After entertaining oursleves in the roller-chairs they have, I had a BLT, while Ben had catfish. A local woman sat near us and after a couple questions from me about where the motel was, she asked questions about my trip. Her face suggested I would die, but her words were kind of supportive, kind of. After her dinner friends showed up, they were genuinely supportive and encouraging. Glad to see they weren't all suggesting hanging it up.
The story of Bracketville and neighboring Fort Clark Springs in a nutshell:
Fort Clark is a historic place. The last fort in the US to actively train and use cavalry. Now a privately owned place, it was once used as a military installation in US-Mexico wars, as well as the various wars with the Indians. To support the fort, Bracketville (first known as Bracket until the Post Office suggested the name change because there was already a Bracket, TX) popped up and provided supplies, etc. Tonight, I stayed at the only motel in town: Fort Clark Springs. The 12-room (estimate) motel was the barracks for the troops stationed there at one time. It was actually really nice, and the place should be seen if you ever go through there. They have a quirky no-photo policy, but I have a no-listen policy sometimes, too, so it worked out.
Tonight I went to bed filled with both anticipation and excitement for a portion of the trip I so heavily researched and planned, as well as anxiety that there was something I had forgotten or would come up at the wrong time in the middle of nowhere.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Route through West Texas
It may be some time before I can update the blog from West Texas. To keep you entertained, feel free to google any of the towns I am passing through. Many have quite a history or a unique draw...for example:
Marfa: mysterious Marfa lights some say are UFOs or the result of a UFO crash in Mexico 40 miles awayhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFnDrG1iH04
Marfa: site of the Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean film "Giant" as well as an artsy place in the middle of the Texas deserthttp://our.tentativetimes.net/marfa/
Marfa: Site of filming for "There Will Be Blood" and "No Country for Old Men"http://www.courierpress.com/news/2008/Feb/24/1-stoplight-2-movies-and-16-academy-award-to/
Marathon: Site of the Gage Hotel, a piece of civilization out in the middle of nowhere
http://www.gagehotel.com/________________
Wed May 28th: Brackettville, TX. Fort Clark Springs Motel
Thursday May 29th: 30 miles to Del Rio, TX, Warmshowers.org host: James McDermott
Friday May 30th: +300' and 41 miles to just west of Comstock, TX: camping at Seminole Canyon State Historic Park
Saturday May 31st: 20 miles to camp at the Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center(stopping here to make the next day reasonable, no showers here; if feel good Friday, may just come right here instead of Seminole Canyon though they have nice showers there and some good hiking)
Sunday June 1st: +1,400' and 61 miles to Sanderson, TX: guesthouse of warmshowers.org host Liz Rogers
Monday June 2nd: staying put in the gueshouse of Liz Rogers
Tuesday June 3rd: +1,100' and 55 miles to Marathon, TX, Gage Hotel or Marathon Motel
Wed June 4th: +500' and 31 miles to Alpine, TX, warmshowers.org host Liz Rogers
Thurday June 5th: 26 miles to Marfa, TX, Hotel Paisano Thunderbird Hotel or Riata Inn
Friday June 6th: 78 miles to Van Horn, TX (not sure how to break this ride up)Days Inn or other motel
Saturday June 7th: +500' and 33 miles to Sierra Blanca, TXEl Camino Motelor Sierra Motel
Sunday June 8th: -1,000' and 46 miles to Fort Hancock, TX, Fort Hancock motel
Monday June 9th: 48 miles to El Paso, TX, maybe a warmshowers.org host
Tuesday June 10th: rest in El Paso TX and plan next leg through New Mexico
Marfa: mysterious Marfa lights some say are UFOs or the result of a UFO crash in Mexico 40 miles awayhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFnDrG1iH04
Marfa: site of the Rock Hudson, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean film "Giant" as well as an artsy place in the middle of the Texas deserthttp://our.tentativetimes.net/marfa/
Marfa: Site of filming for "There Will Be Blood" and "No Country for Old Men"http://www.courierpress.com/news/2008/Feb/24/1-stoplight-2-movies-and-16-academy-award-to/
Marathon: Site of the Gage Hotel, a piece of civilization out in the middle of nowhere
http://www.gagehotel.com/________________
Wed May 28th: Brackettville, TX. Fort Clark Springs Motel
Thursday May 29th: 30 miles to Del Rio, TX, Warmshowers.org host: James McDermott
Friday May 30th: +300' and 41 miles to just west of Comstock, TX: camping at Seminole Canyon State Historic Park
Saturday May 31st: 20 miles to camp at the Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center(stopping here to make the next day reasonable, no showers here; if feel good Friday, may just come right here instead of Seminole Canyon though they have nice showers there and some good hiking)
Sunday June 1st: +1,400' and 61 miles to Sanderson, TX: guesthouse of warmshowers.org host Liz Rogers
Monday June 2nd: staying put in the gueshouse of Liz Rogers
Tuesday June 3rd: +1,100' and 55 miles to Marathon, TX, Gage Hotel or Marathon Motel
Wed June 4th: +500' and 31 miles to Alpine, TX, warmshowers.org host Liz Rogers
Thurday June 5th: 26 miles to Marfa, TX, Hotel Paisano Thunderbird Hotel or Riata Inn
Friday June 6th: 78 miles to Van Horn, TX (not sure how to break this ride up)Days Inn or other motel
Saturday June 7th: +500' and 33 miles to Sierra Blanca, TXEl Camino Motelor Sierra Motel
Sunday June 8th: -1,000' and 46 miles to Fort Hancock, TX, Fort Hancock motel
Monday June 9th: 48 miles to El Paso, TX, maybe a warmshowers.org host
Tuesday June 10th: rest in El Paso TX and plan next leg through New Mexico
Monday, May 26, 2008
Rest Days in Austin and San Antonio
I am hanging with my friend John Ray in Austin from Thursday May 22 through Sunday May 25, 2008.
Thursday after he got back from work we went to Stubb's BBQ in downtown Austin for a Rock and Restock concert last night featuring Bob Schneider. Excellent BBQ and some pretty jumpin' tunes.
Friday after he got back from work we went downtown Austin to Maiko for Sushi. We also went to a bar named Ginger Man, where they serve what seems an endless variety of beers on tap. Crazy amount of people downtown near 6th Street. Lots of girls revealing skin and guys wearing the oh-so-predictable striped long sleeve dress shirts searching for "young love", each not having quite found the other yet. Katy the pedicabber (and long distance bike tourist of recent years) let me ride up front on her set of wheels for a photo.
Saturday we went out to Driftwood, TX to the Salt Lick for more BBQ. Cool place with a band playing at this dry-county-but-you-can-bring-a-cooler-with-beer place. Nothing but TV at night as the BBQ sauce percolated in my belly.
Sunday May 25 - Tuesday May 27, 2008 I am visiting my friends Ben Pedraza and his wife Leslie in San Antonio.
Monday we went to the Riverwalk, an area downtown along the San Antonio river filled with shops, cafes, etc. It is the most European thing I have experienced so far on this trip. And of, course, I also visited the Alamo, site of a Mexican victory (General Santa Anna) against Sam Houston's Texas army.
Tuesday I got a one-hour massage with Krista from Zenergy Touch (http://www.zenergytouch.com/). My lower back was tight and I was almost more worried a massage might worsen things and prevent a Wednesday launch, but I went in anyway. With a few well asked questions, Krista designed a massage session to address my needs since my bicycle journey was unique. Combining deep work with Thai massage and Medical Massage stretches, I walked away feeling far better than I did in 9 out of 10 past experiences. (#10 was with Karen Watt in San Diego.) When in San Antonio, give Krista a call!
I also cleaned the chain on my bike, patched a previously flat tube (hastily exchanged for a new tube a while back), and cleaned the bike up. My route is pretty well established now and will be the subject of the next blog entry as it may be some time before I can give detailed updates heading into West Texas.
Tuesday night was a movie named Seven Samurai sponsored by Texas Public Radio. Good times replacing subtitles with our own more creative jabber. The movie was at one of the theaters where you can order dinner and beer/wine while watching the film. San Diego really needs one of these.
My plan is to get started heading west again Wednesday May 28.
Thursday after he got back from work we went to Stubb's BBQ in downtown Austin for a Rock and Restock concert last night featuring Bob Schneider. Excellent BBQ and some pretty jumpin' tunes.
Friday after he got back from work we went downtown Austin to Maiko for Sushi. We also went to a bar named Ginger Man, where they serve what seems an endless variety of beers on tap. Crazy amount of people downtown near 6th Street. Lots of girls revealing skin and guys wearing the oh-so-predictable striped long sleeve dress shirts searching for "young love", each not having quite found the other yet. Katy the pedicabber (and long distance bike tourist of recent years) let me ride up front on her set of wheels for a photo.
Saturday we went out to Driftwood, TX to the Salt Lick for more BBQ. Cool place with a band playing at this dry-county-but-you-can-bring-a-cooler-with-beer place. Nothing but TV at night as the BBQ sauce percolated in my belly.
Sunday May 25 - Tuesday May 27, 2008 I am visiting my friends Ben Pedraza and his wife Leslie in San Antonio.
Monday we went to the Riverwalk, an area downtown along the San Antonio river filled with shops, cafes, etc. It is the most European thing I have experienced so far on this trip. And of, course, I also visited the Alamo, site of a Mexican victory (General Santa Anna) against Sam Houston's Texas army.
Tuesday I got a one-hour massage with Krista from Zenergy Touch (http://www.zenergytouch.com/). My lower back was tight and I was almost more worried a massage might worsen things and prevent a Wednesday launch, but I went in anyway. With a few well asked questions, Krista designed a massage session to address my needs since my bicycle journey was unique. Combining deep work with Thai massage and Medical Massage stretches, I walked away feeling far better than I did in 9 out of 10 past experiences. (#10 was with Karen Watt in San Diego.) When in San Antonio, give Krista a call!
I also cleaned the chain on my bike, patched a previously flat tube (hastily exchanged for a new tube a while back), and cleaned the bike up. My route is pretty well established now and will be the subject of the next blog entry as it may be some time before I can give detailed updates heading into West Texas.
Tuesday night was a movie named Seven Samurai sponsored by Texas Public Radio. Good times replacing subtitles with our own more creative jabber. The movie was at one of the theaters where you can order dinner and beer/wine while watching the film. San Diego really needs one of these.
My plan is to get started heading west again Wednesday May 28.
Friday, May 23, 2008
La Grange, TX to Bastrop, TX (31 miles)
Wednesday May 21, 2008
I was a little uncertain I was going to leave La Grange today. This was a nice (and cheap) motel, and I needed more rest. BUT, I made a deal with my legs this morning: Get me to Bastrop before it gets hot and we will go no further today.
Having eaten a McDonalds apple pie from the night before as well as familiar oatmeal made in a styrofoam to-go cup from iced tea at lunch the day before, I headed off on Highway 71 toward Bastrop. I was glad my legs which had tightened up during the night felt loose and relaxed after the first few miles. It's funny how I can stretch my legs in the middle of the night and almost fall asleep during the stretch. When I started this trip I couldn't even stretch very far. Times have changed.
The Colorado River winds along the northeast side of Highway 71. What that means is that should the shoulder disappear for some reason, I am limited as to my exit strategy from Highway 71. This caused me to be a bit nervous at the start, but seeing the wide shoulder along Highway 71 once I got started, my concerns were diminished.
Starting at 7am today, my goal was to get to Bastrop before things heated up too badly. 75 degrees when I started was comfortable, and remained comfortable the entire 30 mile ride as the sun was struggling to find it's way out from behind the mostly cloudy sky. "It was MY turn today", I thought as I ran from the sun, powering up hills as road construction crews watched me go by.
Passing some interesting and pretty sites along the way, I stopped occasionally to snap some pics. More old cars filled a lot along the way. It would be interesting to poke around some of these since I still have the 67 Mustang Convertible I bought in highschool and fixed up. But I wasn't going to give the sun a chance to catch up since I could see old cars another day.
The railroad tracks crossed under Highway 71. Something about RR tracks that I like. You can see how far they go or how they gently curve around a corner leading to who knows what. It's probably this kind of thinking that got me on a bike to do this ride in the first place. The route of the imaginary tracks under my bike tires changes often with no certainty as to how far they go.
My very first oil/gas well was seen near Smithville. That reminds me that in West Texas I will be heading into the same country where the recent movie "There Will Be Blood" was filmed.
The Colorado River winds around quite a bit. The birds apparently loved the shelter under the bridge. Perhaps the unseen troll feeds them daily.
Buscha's restaurant along Highway 71 must be popular the two days it is open per week.
The hills roll more gently when following a good sized highway. I rather prefer that over the quick ups and downs where you immediately give back what you just earned. I reached over 500 feet elevations, which is the most so far, though modest, I know.
Reaching Bastrop shortly after 9am, with the sun still trying to fight it's way out from behind the thick mesh of clouds, I was drawn to a unique looking restaurant on the edge of town: Kendra's Roadhouse. A closer look showed a neon sign luring me in with Hamburgers, Malts, and Drinks.
The cook at the Roadhouse told me they opened at 10:30am, but offered me ice cold water while I waited. Taking the opportunity to tweak my journal, I relaxed in the sun-lacking breeze. Soon, Becky, a very nice waitress with dirty blonde hair arrived and offered me a malt before opening time. Banana malt it is!!! Before the burger I later ordered was served, a regular customer named Ann, gray-haired, heavyset, and pleasant, was walking in with a jug. I asked "How's it going?" She signed and said "good". "Seems that sigh tells something different", I said in return. She went on to tell me that she is driving down past San Antonio to go to a horse show and wanted to leave earlier than the time she had woken up this morning. The jug was for filling with Kendra's Roadhouse tea. "They have the best tea here", she told me. Simply reaching for the chair, she invited herself to my table and joined me while the jug was being filled inside. I like how informal it is to do that here. She told me about her Arabian horse named K.R. Azeem and how her interest in horses was recently renewed after years away from them. With a jug of tea now in hand, she went to the car only to return a moment later with a business card and proud photos of Azeem.
Following the early lunch, I found my way through downtown Bastrop to the public library for route research, email, and blog updates.
Having parked and locked my bike near the library, the rest of the day was on foot between the river walk, the library, and various downtown shops. At a late lunch (yep, I can eat more often these days) I made sure to have a Lone Star beer as well as a Shiner bock, both Texas staples.
At 6:30pm, my friend John Ray, who recently moved to Austin from San Diego, drove up in his Jeep and took me back to his place just north of Austin where we ate brats off the grill before a little TV talk, and bedtime.
Finally some rest days! My legs held up their end of the deal today!
I was a little uncertain I was going to leave La Grange today. This was a nice (and cheap) motel, and I needed more rest. BUT, I made a deal with my legs this morning: Get me to Bastrop before it gets hot and we will go no further today.
Having eaten a McDonalds apple pie from the night before as well as familiar oatmeal made in a styrofoam to-go cup from iced tea at lunch the day before, I headed off on Highway 71 toward Bastrop. I was glad my legs which had tightened up during the night felt loose and relaxed after the first few miles. It's funny how I can stretch my legs in the middle of the night and almost fall asleep during the stretch. When I started this trip I couldn't even stretch very far. Times have changed.
The Colorado River winds along the northeast side of Highway 71. What that means is that should the shoulder disappear for some reason, I am limited as to my exit strategy from Highway 71. This caused me to be a bit nervous at the start, but seeing the wide shoulder along Highway 71 once I got started, my concerns were diminished.
Starting at 7am today, my goal was to get to Bastrop before things heated up too badly. 75 degrees when I started was comfortable, and remained comfortable the entire 30 mile ride as the sun was struggling to find it's way out from behind the mostly cloudy sky. "It was MY turn today", I thought as I ran from the sun, powering up hills as road construction crews watched me go by.
Passing some interesting and pretty sites along the way, I stopped occasionally to snap some pics. More old cars filled a lot along the way. It would be interesting to poke around some of these since I still have the 67 Mustang Convertible I bought in highschool and fixed up. But I wasn't going to give the sun a chance to catch up since I could see old cars another day.
The railroad tracks crossed under Highway 71. Something about RR tracks that I like. You can see how far they go or how they gently curve around a corner leading to who knows what. It's probably this kind of thinking that got me on a bike to do this ride in the first place. The route of the imaginary tracks under my bike tires changes often with no certainty as to how far they go.
My very first oil/gas well was seen near Smithville. That reminds me that in West Texas I will be heading into the same country where the recent movie "There Will Be Blood" was filmed.
The Colorado River winds around quite a bit. The birds apparently loved the shelter under the bridge. Perhaps the unseen troll feeds them daily.
Buscha's restaurant along Highway 71 must be popular the two days it is open per week.
The hills roll more gently when following a good sized highway. I rather prefer that over the quick ups and downs where you immediately give back what you just earned. I reached over 500 feet elevations, which is the most so far, though modest, I know.
Reaching Bastrop shortly after 9am, with the sun still trying to fight it's way out from behind the thick mesh of clouds, I was drawn to a unique looking restaurant on the edge of town: Kendra's Roadhouse. A closer look showed a neon sign luring me in with Hamburgers, Malts, and Drinks.
The cook at the Roadhouse told me they opened at 10:30am, but offered me ice cold water while I waited. Taking the opportunity to tweak my journal, I relaxed in the sun-lacking breeze. Soon, Becky, a very nice waitress with dirty blonde hair arrived and offered me a malt before opening time. Banana malt it is!!! Before the burger I later ordered was served, a regular customer named Ann, gray-haired, heavyset, and pleasant, was walking in with a jug. I asked "How's it going?" She signed and said "good". "Seems that sigh tells something different", I said in return. She went on to tell me that she is driving down past San Antonio to go to a horse show and wanted to leave earlier than the time she had woken up this morning. The jug was for filling with Kendra's Roadhouse tea. "They have the best tea here", she told me. Simply reaching for the chair, she invited herself to my table and joined me while the jug was being filled inside. I like how informal it is to do that here. She told me about her Arabian horse named K.R. Azeem and how her interest in horses was recently renewed after years away from them. With a jug of tea now in hand, she went to the car only to return a moment later with a business card and proud photos of Azeem.
Following the early lunch, I found my way through downtown Bastrop to the public library for route research, email, and blog updates.
Having parked and locked my bike near the library, the rest of the day was on foot between the river walk, the library, and various downtown shops. At a late lunch (yep, I can eat more often these days) I made sure to have a Lone Star beer as well as a Shiner bock, both Texas staples.
At 6:30pm, my friend John Ray, who recently moved to Austin from San Diego, drove up in his Jeep and took me back to his place just north of Austin where we ate brats off the grill before a little TV talk, and bedtime.
Finally some rest days! My legs held up their end of the deal today!
Bellville, TX to La Grange, TX (45 miles)
Tuesday May 20, 2008
After some much needed rest, I started my day at Snoflake Donut in Bellville, grabbing a tasty ham and cheese croissant. This place was crazy busy but the line moved fast and the business is well run.
Turning in my key at the motel front desk, it was no surprise to see a new degenerate attendent asleep, making no effort to wake as I walked in and set the key down. He simply went back to sleep as if I had disturbed him.
After only a couple miles down Highway 159 following my 7:30am start, three dogs charged me from their yard. They were running perpendicular to me and would surely catch me. I chose Oris's advice and stopped on a dime. They stopped as well. The trouble was that I couldn't get my left shoe unclipped from the pedal fast enough, and down I went on my left knee. Aching from the minor fall, I limped the bike forward while the dogs just watched. Once I got far enough away, I began pedaling on, but I wasn't happy with this start to the day.
Rolling through Nelsonville and seeing nothing, I continued until the town of Industry. At the Shell station there, I met a nice lady who was working the register. She and I talked about the hot weather, the MS150 ride that comes through each year between Houston and Austin, and how she never feels like doing her gardening when she leaves the station. Trading yard work for transportation entered my mind. ;-)
In Willow Springs, I stopped at another little store but only to "borrow some shade". I never went in, but outside i witnessed a mama cat moving her litter of kittens one by one to a perhaps safer spot free from either predators or human observers. Growing up on a farm this was a familiar site when us kids got a little too close for mama cats comfort.
Rek Hill was another sort of Nelsonville. Nothing there. In Fayetteville, I found a cute downtown with B&B's but rather unfriendly people at the little store I stopped at. One word answers and no eye contact was all I got from the attendant while I made small talk. Customers walking in never gave me the time of day. There will be better places ahead I am sure, and I was glad to leave while the attendant chose to come outside nearer the fuel pumps to smoke his cigarette.
After many miles of open road bordered by fields full of Texas longhorns, I was only 6 miles from La Grange when I pulled under some shade at Lonestar Truck Equipment. As I typically do, I go inside to let them know I am just hanging out in the front of their place for a little while to cool down. I was invited in "You sure you don't want to just come inside and enjoy the AC?" See, I thought, how quickly the day changes. There are friendly people everywhere if you look hard enough or just get lucky.
Inside I met Leah, the wife and co-owner with her husband Larry. That could've been Larry who invited me in as he left. Not sure. Anyway, Leah was eating lunch at a work table while her two cats, one midnight black in color and the other being a tabby, were lounging on the table in between moments of searching for attention. One of the work crew was also inside eating lunch and reading a book. Leah and I talked about my trip, and both she and the worker-guy agreed they couldn't bike the 6 miles left to La Grange let alone from Florida given the hills in the area. After a conversation about the slow economy, it's affect on the truck parts business, her cats and mine, all over a cold refreshing cola, she gave me a business card and asked me to send a postcard when I get to San Diego. "I'll probably forget about you until I get the postcard", she said "but then when it arrives, I'll say 'oh yeah, I remember him'."
Reaching the edge of La Grange, I called for motels. I found the Cottonwood Inn offered a place for around $35 and began pedaling in that direction. A little uncertain I was heading the right way, I rolled up to a Shell station where one of the three lady attendants was outside sweeping up and invited me in to cool down, knowing the Texas temperatures were about 5-10 degrees above normal right now. I couldn't say no to her, though I wasn't in need of a break quite yet. Inside I snacked on chicken tenders while sitting at a lunch booth that seems so common at these stations in the south. Shortly after, I biked through cute little downtown La Grange, crossed the Colorado River, and found myself at Cottonwood Inn, but due to the fact it looked sketchy, no one came to the desk when I continued to ring the bell, and there was a better looking motel across the street offering similar rates, I headed over to the River Valley Motor Inn, of course without the motor part.
At the River Valley Motor Inn, I got a discounted room on the recently remodeled first floor, and made use of my 2pm arrival here by doing laundry in the machines they offered, and planning my route in the largest room I have had since I started. Seemed luxurious in a "I just biked 1,000 miles" sort of way.
A chicken pasta dinner across the street at La Marina restaurant, followed by a telephone interview with Nancy Quick of the Wisconsin Rapids Daily Tribune (my hometown newspaper), a short nap later in the refreshing AC-filled room, and I felt a ton better than I did before the interview. I hope the interview didn't go too badly though I know my spirit was temporarily beaten down by the sun and heat over the last two days.
After a 1/2 mile walk to McDonalds for a Quarter Pounder and a return trip to the motel, I spoke with the night attendant about what route she suggested to get to Bastrop the next day. She advised State Road 71 rather than the windy hilly ACA route since I was back in a town on the predesignated route now. When I asked about a shoulder on SR 71, she replied "Oh no, there's not much room, but people here are aware of cyclists because of the MS150 ride each year, so you'll be fine if you're riding during daylight." I used the satellite images provided by googlemaps online using the computer in the lobby and I verified it was a divided 4 lane highway the entire way to Bastrop and I should be fine.
start time: 7:30am
end time: 2:00pm
time on bike: 3:50:08
mileage: 44.94 miles
avg speed: 11.72 mph
max speed: 27.42 mph
calories: 3,040
conditions: Hot, cloudless sky. 92F. Familiar wind from SW. All hills on Highway 159.
After some much needed rest, I started my day at Snoflake Donut in Bellville, grabbing a tasty ham and cheese croissant. This place was crazy busy but the line moved fast and the business is well run.
Turning in my key at the motel front desk, it was no surprise to see a new degenerate attendent asleep, making no effort to wake as I walked in and set the key down. He simply went back to sleep as if I had disturbed him.
After only a couple miles down Highway 159 following my 7:30am start, three dogs charged me from their yard. They were running perpendicular to me and would surely catch me. I chose Oris's advice and stopped on a dime. They stopped as well. The trouble was that I couldn't get my left shoe unclipped from the pedal fast enough, and down I went on my left knee. Aching from the minor fall, I limped the bike forward while the dogs just watched. Once I got far enough away, I began pedaling on, but I wasn't happy with this start to the day.
Rolling through Nelsonville and seeing nothing, I continued until the town of Industry. At the Shell station there, I met a nice lady who was working the register. She and I talked about the hot weather, the MS150 ride that comes through each year between Houston and Austin, and how she never feels like doing her gardening when she leaves the station. Trading yard work for transportation entered my mind. ;-)
In Willow Springs, I stopped at another little store but only to "borrow some shade". I never went in, but outside i witnessed a mama cat moving her litter of kittens one by one to a perhaps safer spot free from either predators or human observers. Growing up on a farm this was a familiar site when us kids got a little too close for mama cats comfort.
Rek Hill was another sort of Nelsonville. Nothing there. In Fayetteville, I found a cute downtown with B&B's but rather unfriendly people at the little store I stopped at. One word answers and no eye contact was all I got from the attendant while I made small talk. Customers walking in never gave me the time of day. There will be better places ahead I am sure, and I was glad to leave while the attendant chose to come outside nearer the fuel pumps to smoke his cigarette.
After many miles of open road bordered by fields full of Texas longhorns, I was only 6 miles from La Grange when I pulled under some shade at Lonestar Truck Equipment. As I typically do, I go inside to let them know I am just hanging out in the front of their place for a little while to cool down. I was invited in "You sure you don't want to just come inside and enjoy the AC?" See, I thought, how quickly the day changes. There are friendly people everywhere if you look hard enough or just get lucky.
Inside I met Leah, the wife and co-owner with her husband Larry. That could've been Larry who invited me in as he left. Not sure. Anyway, Leah was eating lunch at a work table while her two cats, one midnight black in color and the other being a tabby, were lounging on the table in between moments of searching for attention. One of the work crew was also inside eating lunch and reading a book. Leah and I talked about my trip, and both she and the worker-guy agreed they couldn't bike the 6 miles left to La Grange let alone from Florida given the hills in the area. After a conversation about the slow economy, it's affect on the truck parts business, her cats and mine, all over a cold refreshing cola, she gave me a business card and asked me to send a postcard when I get to San Diego. "I'll probably forget about you until I get the postcard", she said "but then when it arrives, I'll say 'oh yeah, I remember him'."
Reaching the edge of La Grange, I called for motels. I found the Cottonwood Inn offered a place for around $35 and began pedaling in that direction. A little uncertain I was heading the right way, I rolled up to a Shell station where one of the three lady attendants was outside sweeping up and invited me in to cool down, knowing the Texas temperatures were about 5-10 degrees above normal right now. I couldn't say no to her, though I wasn't in need of a break quite yet. Inside I snacked on chicken tenders while sitting at a lunch booth that seems so common at these stations in the south. Shortly after, I biked through cute little downtown La Grange, crossed the Colorado River, and found myself at Cottonwood Inn, but due to the fact it looked sketchy, no one came to the desk when I continued to ring the bell, and there was a better looking motel across the street offering similar rates, I headed over to the River Valley Motor Inn, of course without the motor part.
At the River Valley Motor Inn, I got a discounted room on the recently remodeled first floor, and made use of my 2pm arrival here by doing laundry in the machines they offered, and planning my route in the largest room I have had since I started. Seemed luxurious in a "I just biked 1,000 miles" sort of way.
A chicken pasta dinner across the street at La Marina restaurant, followed by a telephone interview with Nancy Quick of the Wisconsin Rapids Daily Tribune (my hometown newspaper), a short nap later in the refreshing AC-filled room, and I felt a ton better than I did before the interview. I hope the interview didn't go too badly though I know my spirit was temporarily beaten down by the sun and heat over the last two days.
After a 1/2 mile walk to McDonalds for a Quarter Pounder and a return trip to the motel, I spoke with the night attendant about what route she suggested to get to Bastrop the next day. She advised State Road 71 rather than the windy hilly ACA route since I was back in a town on the predesignated route now. When I asked about a shoulder on SR 71, she replied "Oh no, there's not much room, but people here are aware of cyclists because of the MS150 ride each year, so you'll be fine if you're riding during daylight." I used the satellite images provided by googlemaps online using the computer in the lobby and I verified it was a divided 4 lane highway the entire way to Bastrop and I should be fine.
start time: 7:30am
end time: 2:00pm
time on bike: 3:50:08
mileage: 44.94 miles
avg speed: 11.72 mph
max speed: 27.42 mph
calories: 3,040
conditions: Hot, cloudless sky. 92F. Familiar wind from SW. All hills on Highway 159.
Beaumont, TX to Bellville, TX (68 miles)
Monday May 19, 2008
Awake at 6am, it felt like I could lay there for days, but since I was sleeping in Gus's room, and recalling my own territorial issues when I was his age, I knew I had to give him his room back. After a bagel breakfast, I left the accomodating Wellner family at 7:30am pedaling from the center of Houston following the route mapped out the night before.
7:30am Houston traffic was pretty fierce, but, as Rob put it, there is not a good time to bike through Houston, so off I went taking my time and taking sidewalks where I could.
Memorial Park in Houston gave me an opportunity to address what I was too lazy to address earlier. I checked and filled the tires this morning, and that rear tire was very low. I had pumped it up anxious to start my Houston departure, but just like a day or two ago, it felt like I was pulling more than the 90 pounds my bike weighs. In Memorial Park, I chose to check the tire again. Finding it low, my instinct was pump it up and move on, but I realized there would be no better place to inspect and repair it than here on the lush green grass in the shade in the cooler temps provided this early in the day. Finding two small wires having pierced the nearly impenetrable Schwalbe Marathon Supreme tire, I patched the tube and was set to go again. These wires are suspected to be from blown retreads I always see on the side of the road and sometimes have to pedal near. Note: stay far and wide away from these things when you can.
As I pedaled off, a girl who had been walking by earlier when I was repairing it, saw me on her return walk. As I said "back on the road" to her, she exclaimed "you got it, that's awesome!" providing a morale boost for me.
Once I reached George Bush Park, I found a paved track going all the way around the reservoir there. Taking it part way before finding an exit that would lead through the Northwest subsurbs, two female walkers both smiled wide and said "hi" in an excited way as I passed. Houston girls seem pretty friendly.
At FM-529 (FM is a farm road referred to as FM "farm to market"), I took a break from the 11:30am heat and caught some shade outside Walgreens, the last sign of a city I would experience for the rest of the ride today. Asking a woman coming out of the store "what is the nearest little town down this road?", she responded "Oh no, there is nothing down THAT road, not for a long long way." Encouraged to get more water from Walgreens, I pedaled off around 12:30pm.
FM-529: How I grew to hate you.
The lady was right. There was nothing along this road except farms, longhorn steer, and an occassional industrial business set back far enough from the road it appeared to be less than welcoming. The temp was 92F, high humidity, headwinds 14mph with 27mph gusts. Thoughts of overnighting on the edge of Houston came to mind, but I thought I had better be able to ride in this if I was ever going to get through the desert. After many miles, I found brief shade inside a chain link fence in Brookshireville and I cooled off before continuing.
Crossing the Brazos River, with a fairly high water level, was the reason for only a few route options to Bellville. On occasion there would be an interesting sight like this VW bug graveyard I passed.
Further up and many hard-earned miles later, I saw a ranch driveway lined with trees on each side. Knowing this landscaped entrance offered an opportunity to cool off again, I pulled in and was greeted by two curious mares.
Further up the road at 4pm, I found a Baptist church with a very small shaded canopy entrance. Taking the opportunity to fill the water bottles from the hose laying haphazardly in the grass, I could now continue through the hills that greeted me since entering Austin County (as if the heat, headwinds, etc weren't enough).
By 5:30pm, and only maybe 6 miles from Bellville, I finally saw a small store I had grown accustomed to seeing so frequently each day on this trip. Puzzled by the many pickup trucks parked outside, I parked my bike against a tree and walked in. Greeted by a 2-tooth owner who hassled me with some crack about "dress code", I bet that he was joking, unsure as facial gestures are less defined with only two teeth, and continued walking in. Turns out, in addition to being a neighborhood store, it was also a bar. That explained all the trucks outside. I walked up and sat at the only open stool at the 3-stool bar. The place was occupied by two groups: those with white skin wearing caps and jeans or bibs sitting at the tables, and a two-person group of Mexicans at the bar. After ordering, I started making small talk with one of the Mexican guys next to me. Whatever he said, I repeated his response out loud in Spanish (I do this translation sometimes in my head to keep sharp, but this time it was out loud). He smiled. His English was choppy despite his 15 years living in nearby Sealy working as a mechanico. We began speaking in Spanish. He introduced himself as Jose Luis, and his friend who spoke better English was named Philipe. They could not believe how far I had pedaled so far on the trip and insisted they would buy me whatever drinks I wanted: "When you drink with a Mexican", they said "your drinks are paid for". Generous guys. I stuck with softdrinks knowing I wasn't finished for the day yet. Our conversation was good and covered topics of the frontera (border), safety in Mexico, living illegally in the US, and how people of all races have similar values: "I like beer, you like beer, we are the same", I told them. This whole time, i think the cap and bib wearing faction was not thrilled I made friends with the "wetbacks" as the Mexicans told me this is how they are referred to. A large beast of a man came in dressed similarly to the whiteys in the bar, bought something from the store, and said "Que pasa, amigo?" to Jose Luis but in a stern tone. I thought, "Huh. So some of these guys DO talk with the Mexicans here. How nice." But his poor spanish was abandoned shortly after and he continued to shout at this guy actually making some threats near the end of his rant before leaving. My new Mexican friends were puzzled. Despite the fact Philipe "knows" English, it is like my knowledge of Spanish. If you talk fast enough, I don't know a thing. They both asked me to explain in Spanish. As I was in the process of explaining in Spanish what just happened and why Bubba was so mad, the 2-tooth owner left his chair at one of the tables with his friends and came to the bar "Listen. You fellas have to go. That man isn't happy. I don't want no trouble. He's coming back here, and when he does, there will be trouble if you are still here. You better go or I will call the police, and if you are illegal, you don't want me to call the police." I told the owner they didn't understand what just happened and I was explaining it to them. "You don't need to be involved in this. You go, too. You get on your bike and get out of here." I managed to convince the fellas it was in their best interest to leave and I was leaving, too. In the dirt parking lot outside, there were brief goodbyes. I had at one time thought it might be nice to stay in touch with these guys or at least get a photo, but that opportunity was lost.
The argument:
Bubba's wife was in the bar earlier. I think it was her that was just leaving when I arrived, and maybe why the stool was free at the bar. She had given me the eye on her way out, and I had thought immediately that she was the local tramp. When she went home, she told Bubba what Jose Luis had said to her (sometimes the Mexican approach to women is different than the American approach, especially with limited volcabulary), and that aggravated Bubba. He then came to the store to give the "wetback" a piece of his mind and maybe more. Seeing Jose had a Mexican friend with him, as well as me sitting next to him, I think he chose to leave it at words until seeing him again later. Thus the owner kicked us out.
Note: Mexican-American relations in these rural poorly educated areas of Texas are not good. I saw the disrespect the 2-tooth owner showed to Jose Luis and Philipe when they simply ordered drinks. And after witnessing this incident, though not knowing Jose Luis's words to Bubba's wife, I now understand why the two of them told me "your mind works differently than people here" as we had become friends and they learned that I studied in Mexico and have a sister there married to a Mexican guy.
Hurrying off, I pedaled the remaining distance to the overpriced only-one-in-town Hotel Wayne in Bellville, TX. Upon arrival I was told by a cleaner looking cap & jeans wearing man that he would've run me over in the hills approaching town if I hadn't worn that bright orange reflective safety vest. "It caught the sun just right and I saw you, otherwise with the way the sun was coming down, I woulda hit you". To which the dentally-challenged motel attendent behind the desk said "We call you a Texas speedbump, that's all". I worked all day long to be here???
After checking in, showering, being clearly discouraged by the motel desk attendent from eating at the Mexican restaurant down the street and instead being directed to the local Dairy Queen, I went to Las Lomas Mexican restaurant. "We got enough Mexican restaurants and they're building more like we need another", he said, clearly showing his opinion of the people that originally inhabited this land.
At Las Lomas, I met my waitress, Aremi, a girl originally from Mexico City and who had recently moved from Houston to Bellville to be closer to her job here. Aremi had a great personality and we spoke in both English and Spanish while I enjoyed my meal. I am not likely to be in Bellville anytime soon, but if I am I will stop in at Las Lomas to say hi.
start time: 7:30am
end time: 7:00pm
time on bike: 5:15:47
miles: 67.83
avg speed: 12.89 mph
max speed: 26.95 mph
calories: 4,901
conditions: hot, cloudless sky, 92F, wind from SW 14mph, gusts 27mph, hills began in Austin County.
Awake at 6am, it felt like I could lay there for days, but since I was sleeping in Gus's room, and recalling my own territorial issues when I was his age, I knew I had to give him his room back. After a bagel breakfast, I left the accomodating Wellner family at 7:30am pedaling from the center of Houston following the route mapped out the night before.
7:30am Houston traffic was pretty fierce, but, as Rob put it, there is not a good time to bike through Houston, so off I went taking my time and taking sidewalks where I could.
Memorial Park in Houston gave me an opportunity to address what I was too lazy to address earlier. I checked and filled the tires this morning, and that rear tire was very low. I had pumped it up anxious to start my Houston departure, but just like a day or two ago, it felt like I was pulling more than the 90 pounds my bike weighs. In Memorial Park, I chose to check the tire again. Finding it low, my instinct was pump it up and move on, but I realized there would be no better place to inspect and repair it than here on the lush green grass in the shade in the cooler temps provided this early in the day. Finding two small wires having pierced the nearly impenetrable Schwalbe Marathon Supreme tire, I patched the tube and was set to go again. These wires are suspected to be from blown retreads I always see on the side of the road and sometimes have to pedal near. Note: stay far and wide away from these things when you can.
As I pedaled off, a girl who had been walking by earlier when I was repairing it, saw me on her return walk. As I said "back on the road" to her, she exclaimed "you got it, that's awesome!" providing a morale boost for me.
Once I reached George Bush Park, I found a paved track going all the way around the reservoir there. Taking it part way before finding an exit that would lead through the Northwest subsurbs, two female walkers both smiled wide and said "hi" in an excited way as I passed. Houston girls seem pretty friendly.
At FM-529 (FM is a farm road referred to as FM "farm to market"), I took a break from the 11:30am heat and caught some shade outside Walgreens, the last sign of a city I would experience for the rest of the ride today. Asking a woman coming out of the store "what is the nearest little town down this road?", she responded "Oh no, there is nothing down THAT road, not for a long long way." Encouraged to get more water from Walgreens, I pedaled off around 12:30pm.
FM-529: How I grew to hate you.
The lady was right. There was nothing along this road except farms, longhorn steer, and an occassional industrial business set back far enough from the road it appeared to be less than welcoming. The temp was 92F, high humidity, headwinds 14mph with 27mph gusts. Thoughts of overnighting on the edge of Houston came to mind, but I thought I had better be able to ride in this if I was ever going to get through the desert. After many miles, I found brief shade inside a chain link fence in Brookshireville and I cooled off before continuing.
Crossing the Brazos River, with a fairly high water level, was the reason for only a few route options to Bellville. On occasion there would be an interesting sight like this VW bug graveyard I passed.
Further up and many hard-earned miles later, I saw a ranch driveway lined with trees on each side. Knowing this landscaped entrance offered an opportunity to cool off again, I pulled in and was greeted by two curious mares.
Further up the road at 4pm, I found a Baptist church with a very small shaded canopy entrance. Taking the opportunity to fill the water bottles from the hose laying haphazardly in the grass, I could now continue through the hills that greeted me since entering Austin County (as if the heat, headwinds, etc weren't enough).
By 5:30pm, and only maybe 6 miles from Bellville, I finally saw a small store I had grown accustomed to seeing so frequently each day on this trip. Puzzled by the many pickup trucks parked outside, I parked my bike against a tree and walked in. Greeted by a 2-tooth owner who hassled me with some crack about "dress code", I bet that he was joking, unsure as facial gestures are less defined with only two teeth, and continued walking in. Turns out, in addition to being a neighborhood store, it was also a bar. That explained all the trucks outside. I walked up and sat at the only open stool at the 3-stool bar. The place was occupied by two groups: those with white skin wearing caps and jeans or bibs sitting at the tables, and a two-person group of Mexicans at the bar. After ordering, I started making small talk with one of the Mexican guys next to me. Whatever he said, I repeated his response out loud in Spanish (I do this translation sometimes in my head to keep sharp, but this time it was out loud). He smiled. His English was choppy despite his 15 years living in nearby Sealy working as a mechanico. We began speaking in Spanish. He introduced himself as Jose Luis, and his friend who spoke better English was named Philipe. They could not believe how far I had pedaled so far on the trip and insisted they would buy me whatever drinks I wanted: "When you drink with a Mexican", they said "your drinks are paid for". Generous guys. I stuck with softdrinks knowing I wasn't finished for the day yet. Our conversation was good and covered topics of the frontera (border), safety in Mexico, living illegally in the US, and how people of all races have similar values: "I like beer, you like beer, we are the same", I told them. This whole time, i think the cap and bib wearing faction was not thrilled I made friends with the "wetbacks" as the Mexicans told me this is how they are referred to. A large beast of a man came in dressed similarly to the whiteys in the bar, bought something from the store, and said "Que pasa, amigo?" to Jose Luis but in a stern tone. I thought, "Huh. So some of these guys DO talk with the Mexicans here. How nice." But his poor spanish was abandoned shortly after and he continued to shout at this guy actually making some threats near the end of his rant before leaving. My new Mexican friends were puzzled. Despite the fact Philipe "knows" English, it is like my knowledge of Spanish. If you talk fast enough, I don't know a thing. They both asked me to explain in Spanish. As I was in the process of explaining in Spanish what just happened and why Bubba was so mad, the 2-tooth owner left his chair at one of the tables with his friends and came to the bar "Listen. You fellas have to go. That man isn't happy. I don't want no trouble. He's coming back here, and when he does, there will be trouble if you are still here. You better go or I will call the police, and if you are illegal, you don't want me to call the police." I told the owner they didn't understand what just happened and I was explaining it to them. "You don't need to be involved in this. You go, too. You get on your bike and get out of here." I managed to convince the fellas it was in their best interest to leave and I was leaving, too. In the dirt parking lot outside, there were brief goodbyes. I had at one time thought it might be nice to stay in touch with these guys or at least get a photo, but that opportunity was lost.
The argument:
Bubba's wife was in the bar earlier. I think it was her that was just leaving when I arrived, and maybe why the stool was free at the bar. She had given me the eye on her way out, and I had thought immediately that she was the local tramp. When she went home, she told Bubba what Jose Luis had said to her (sometimes the Mexican approach to women is different than the American approach, especially with limited volcabulary), and that aggravated Bubba. He then came to the store to give the "wetback" a piece of his mind and maybe more. Seeing Jose had a Mexican friend with him, as well as me sitting next to him, I think he chose to leave it at words until seeing him again later. Thus the owner kicked us out.
Note: Mexican-American relations in these rural poorly educated areas of Texas are not good. I saw the disrespect the 2-tooth owner showed to Jose Luis and Philipe when they simply ordered drinks. And after witnessing this incident, though not knowing Jose Luis's words to Bubba's wife, I now understand why the two of them told me "your mind works differently than people here" as we had become friends and they learned that I studied in Mexico and have a sister there married to a Mexican guy.
Hurrying off, I pedaled the remaining distance to the overpriced only-one-in-town Hotel Wayne in Bellville, TX. Upon arrival I was told by a cleaner looking cap & jeans wearing man that he would've run me over in the hills approaching town if I hadn't worn that bright orange reflective safety vest. "It caught the sun just right and I saw you, otherwise with the way the sun was coming down, I woulda hit you". To which the dentally-challenged motel attendent behind the desk said "We call you a Texas speedbump, that's all". I worked all day long to be here???
After checking in, showering, being clearly discouraged by the motel desk attendent from eating at the Mexican restaurant down the street and instead being directed to the local Dairy Queen, I went to Las Lomas Mexican restaurant. "We got enough Mexican restaurants and they're building more like we need another", he said, clearly showing his opinion of the people that originally inhabited this land.
At Las Lomas, I met my waitress, Aremi, a girl originally from Mexico City and who had recently moved from Houston to Bellville to be closer to her job here. Aremi had a great personality and we spoke in both English and Spanish while I enjoyed my meal. I am not likely to be in Bellville anytime soon, but if I am I will stop in at Las Lomas to say hi.
start time: 7:30am
end time: 7:00pm
time on bike: 5:15:47
miles: 67.83
avg speed: 12.89 mph
max speed: 26.95 mph
calories: 4,901
conditions: hot, cloudless sky, 92F, wind from SW 14mph, gusts 27mph, hills began in Austin County.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Beaumont, TX to Houston, TX (30 miles)
Sunday May 18, 2008
I "slept in" until 7am.
Two reasons: 1) Kevin told me he would give me a boost out of Beaumont on my way to Houston. I like this as I don't have to deal with city traffic that way. 2) Michelle wanted to make breakfast for me and peace-girl.
Kevin showed up with his shy son Blake. Cool little boy who began answering my questions by telling his Dad the answer and telling his Dad to tell me. After a while, and a few friend making names like "cookie face", Blake may not have realized that he was now talking directly to me.
Kevin and Blake gave me a lift along Highway 90 to the Dayton area. I started biking around 11:30am. The shoulder was good the whole way into Houston. My plan: Take Highway 90 until it ended. I stuck to that plan longer than I should've. I found myself on the Freeway riding in the breakdown lane. How it became a freeway all of a sudden, I am not sure, but it did and I was there.
At the 8 Beltway and end of 90 Freeway, my mind was fried. I found a new residential development in it's infancy and sat against a fence in a bit of shade while talking with Audrey. I remember laughing with her and the joking helped bring back the sanity the freeway temporarily took away.
Studying the Houston detail portion of the Texas state map, I found a way toward the center of the city where I was almost sure my friends Rob and Julia Wellner and their son Gus lived. As I approached the 610 Beltway on Wallisville Road, they called and agreed to meet me at a chosen McDonalds.
After I had studied my maps for a while at McDonalds, the Wellner crew arrived wisking me back to their place where I was able to shower, do laundry, catch up with them over dinner, and plan the route out of Houston in the morning.
There was no energy left for updating the blog despite their offer to use their computer. I sometimes need to choose between sleep and blog updates. Up until now, I have been a dedicated blogger, but from now on sleep wins.
start time: 11:30am
end time: 3pm
time on bike: 2:15:14
mileage: 30 miles
avg speed: 11.83 mph
max speed: 19.75 mph
calories: 1,787
conditions: hot, clear, maybe 87F
I "slept in" until 7am.
Two reasons: 1) Kevin told me he would give me a boost out of Beaumont on my way to Houston. I like this as I don't have to deal with city traffic that way. 2) Michelle wanted to make breakfast for me and peace-girl.
Kevin showed up with his shy son Blake. Cool little boy who began answering my questions by telling his Dad the answer and telling his Dad to tell me. After a while, and a few friend making names like "cookie face", Blake may not have realized that he was now talking directly to me.
Kevin and Blake gave me a lift along Highway 90 to the Dayton area. I started biking around 11:30am. The shoulder was good the whole way into Houston. My plan: Take Highway 90 until it ended. I stuck to that plan longer than I should've. I found myself on the Freeway riding in the breakdown lane. How it became a freeway all of a sudden, I am not sure, but it did and I was there.
At the 8 Beltway and end of 90 Freeway, my mind was fried. I found a new residential development in it's infancy and sat against a fence in a bit of shade while talking with Audrey. I remember laughing with her and the joking helped bring back the sanity the freeway temporarily took away.
Studying the Houston detail portion of the Texas state map, I found a way toward the center of the city where I was almost sure my friends Rob and Julia Wellner and their son Gus lived. As I approached the 610 Beltway on Wallisville Road, they called and agreed to meet me at a chosen McDonalds.
After I had studied my maps for a while at McDonalds, the Wellner crew arrived wisking me back to their place where I was able to shower, do laundry, catch up with them over dinner, and plan the route out of Houston in the morning.
There was no energy left for updating the blog despite their offer to use their computer. I sometimes need to choose between sleep and blog updates. Up until now, I have been a dedicated blogger, but from now on sleep wins.
start time: 11:30am
end time: 3pm
time on bike: 2:15:14
mileage: 30 miles
avg speed: 11.83 mph
max speed: 19.75 mph
calories: 1,787
conditions: hot, clear, maybe 87F
Kinder, LA to Beaumont, TX (69 miles)
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Leaving Kinder felt good. Needing breakfast and having no place around the motel, I wanted to make oatmeal (again). Having requested a room with fridge and microwave when I checked in, and too tired to do anything about it when I discovered there was none, I had remembered there was a microwave in the lobby of the motel. I went to the lobby at 6:15am with mixed oatmeal in hand, picked up the phone that rings the late night attendent, and asked "Is it possible to use the microwave in the lobby?" A groggy "No way, buddy" (click) was the response I got. Customer service here isn't what I have gotten used to back home. Resolving to trade a washcloth I used in Basile, LA yesterday for a clean one from the motel, I pedaled on after this incident.
I had made a decision last night not to bother going north to DeRidder, LA to join the ACA route, but instead keep going west since the ACA route dips south eventually. I went as far as DeQuincy before I stopped for a drink and a break.
Man, things were tough today, I thought. I wasn't sure why I felt so overworked given a mostly flat terrain. After chatting with three motorcyclists that had stopped at the same gas station during their weekend pleasure cruise, I bid them farewell with sights on a Burger King down the road as I thought maybe my calorie intake was low, thus the slugishness. As I biked away from the bikers, I seemed to feel and hear every bump the rear tire went over. Looking down, I discovered a low tire. Aha! Maybe it wasn't me afterall, maybe it was the tire that made the last 30 miles such work. I took everything off the bike, flipped it upside down, and disassembled the tire. The bikers now motored off nodding with a look of sympathym as they drove by. A quick and failed inspection of the tire for the cause of the flat, I chose to replace the tube and investigate and patch the old one later. 15 minutes later, Burger King was my mid-day reward for this delay, reaching the home of the flame-broiled whopper much easier now that the tire was fully inflated again.
Not able to stomach the whole whopper this early in the day, I started off again later seeing the cap to one of my handlebar ends was missing and remembering I had seen it loose through the window while eating the Whopper meal. Looks like it was left in DeQuincy. Oh well. A harmless loss.
On the way to Starks, Louisiana road work again caused my mind to spin with thoughts of "maybe I have come far enough" and "I'm not sure I can complete this anyway" and "maybe I should just stop".
In Starks, LA on Highway 12 right before Texas, I met Bob Pitcher, another motorcyclist taking a break at a gas station. Bob and I talked about the nearby carnival comprised of about a dozen drive up trucks that convert to family-safe thrill rides within minutes of arrival. Bob told me it was the local Mayhaw festival. He described the Mayhaw as a tiny apple-like fruit that grows in bogs. Looks like Bob wasn't far off.
http://www.mayhaw.net/fruits.html
He insisted I go in and try the jelly, but I wanted to keep moving forward since I had made arrangements through my frined Robert in Mobile, Alabama to meet his cousin in Mauriceville, TX at 3pm-ish.
Passing such signs as "Frog on a Stick $5", I kept my focus and stayed on my bike pedaling forward to the Lone Star State. Once I crossed the Sabine River, my cellphone coverage came back immediately resembling the mysterious electromagnetic line that is drawn between Tijuana and San Diego back home. Two messages: I had a place to stay in Beaumont, TX courtesy of my friend Tom in San Diego finding a contact for me via http://www.couchsurfing.com/ and two grad school friends, now married, resurfaced in Houston and I could stay with them tomorrow.
Crossing into Texas: Mixed feelings about this one. Maybe not all my ex's live in Texas, but there is certainly one that does and I prefer to keep a two-state insulator between us. And just about any Dallas Cowboy fan I have met in the past certainly didn't give the Texas image a boost either. But the arrival of Texas marks the completion of my fourth state on this eight state tour, so there is reason to be happy (despite the fact it will take me weeks to reach the completion of this state #5).
I arrived at Tuffy's restaurant in Mauriceville, TX before Robert's cousin Kevin, so I just hung out there happy to be off the bike. A group of guys who worked for a local business asked "You biking across Texas?" and were shocked when I told them the answer. Inisisting they wanted me to have a cap with their business name on it, but finding none in their work truck that didn't have a sweatring already created, we just shook hands before Kevin arrived and joined me for chicken fried steak at Tuffy's. Kevin took me from Mauriceville to Beaumont and delivered me to Michelle Cate's house. Michelle is a "host" registered on http://www.couchsurfing.com/. A quick-witted Arkansasian, she offered a place to crash, a hot shower, socializing with her and her friends, and a hot breakfast the next morning. One other couchsurfer named Alix arrived that night as well. Alix is "scoot'n for peace", driving her motorized scooter 20,000-miles over two years on quest to gain one million individual definitions of peace and raising money for 4 different charities. Alix's purpose and her self were a bit ambiguous and unclear to me, and, despite her gripes about how hard the road was on her body, I gave no sympathy to this motorized two-wheeler that was encroaching on my much needed sleep time with her airy talk.
start time: 7:20am
end time: 3:30-4:00pm
time on road: 5:17:20
miles: 68.57
avg speed: 12.96
max speed: 19.77 mph
calories: 4,894
conditions: flat, mid 70's F, overcast, nice
Leaving Kinder felt good. Needing breakfast and having no place around the motel, I wanted to make oatmeal (again). Having requested a room with fridge and microwave when I checked in, and too tired to do anything about it when I discovered there was none, I had remembered there was a microwave in the lobby of the motel. I went to the lobby at 6:15am with mixed oatmeal in hand, picked up the phone that rings the late night attendent, and asked "Is it possible to use the microwave in the lobby?" A groggy "No way, buddy" (click) was the response I got. Customer service here isn't what I have gotten used to back home. Resolving to trade a washcloth I used in Basile, LA yesterday for a clean one from the motel, I pedaled on after this incident.
I had made a decision last night not to bother going north to DeRidder, LA to join the ACA route, but instead keep going west since the ACA route dips south eventually. I went as far as DeQuincy before I stopped for a drink and a break.
Man, things were tough today, I thought. I wasn't sure why I felt so overworked given a mostly flat terrain. After chatting with three motorcyclists that had stopped at the same gas station during their weekend pleasure cruise, I bid them farewell with sights on a Burger King down the road as I thought maybe my calorie intake was low, thus the slugishness. As I biked away from the bikers, I seemed to feel and hear every bump the rear tire went over. Looking down, I discovered a low tire. Aha! Maybe it wasn't me afterall, maybe it was the tire that made the last 30 miles such work. I took everything off the bike, flipped it upside down, and disassembled the tire. The bikers now motored off nodding with a look of sympathym as they drove by. A quick and failed inspection of the tire for the cause of the flat, I chose to replace the tube and investigate and patch the old one later. 15 minutes later, Burger King was my mid-day reward for this delay, reaching the home of the flame-broiled whopper much easier now that the tire was fully inflated again.
Not able to stomach the whole whopper this early in the day, I started off again later seeing the cap to one of my handlebar ends was missing and remembering I had seen it loose through the window while eating the Whopper meal. Looks like it was left in DeQuincy. Oh well. A harmless loss.
On the way to Starks, Louisiana road work again caused my mind to spin with thoughts of "maybe I have come far enough" and "I'm not sure I can complete this anyway" and "maybe I should just stop".
In Starks, LA on Highway 12 right before Texas, I met Bob Pitcher, another motorcyclist taking a break at a gas station. Bob and I talked about the nearby carnival comprised of about a dozen drive up trucks that convert to family-safe thrill rides within minutes of arrival. Bob told me it was the local Mayhaw festival. He described the Mayhaw as a tiny apple-like fruit that grows in bogs. Looks like Bob wasn't far off.
http://www.mayhaw.net/fruits.html
He insisted I go in and try the jelly, but I wanted to keep moving forward since I had made arrangements through my frined Robert in Mobile, Alabama to meet his cousin in Mauriceville, TX at 3pm-ish.
Passing such signs as "Frog on a Stick $5", I kept my focus and stayed on my bike pedaling forward to the Lone Star State. Once I crossed the Sabine River, my cellphone coverage came back immediately resembling the mysterious electromagnetic line that is drawn between Tijuana and San Diego back home. Two messages: I had a place to stay in Beaumont, TX courtesy of my friend Tom in San Diego finding a contact for me via http://www.couchsurfing.com/ and two grad school friends, now married, resurfaced in Houston and I could stay with them tomorrow.
Crossing into Texas: Mixed feelings about this one. Maybe not all my ex's live in Texas, but there is certainly one that does and I prefer to keep a two-state insulator between us. And just about any Dallas Cowboy fan I have met in the past certainly didn't give the Texas image a boost either. But the arrival of Texas marks the completion of my fourth state on this eight state tour, so there is reason to be happy (despite the fact it will take me weeks to reach the completion of this state #5).
I arrived at Tuffy's restaurant in Mauriceville, TX before Robert's cousin Kevin, so I just hung out there happy to be off the bike. A group of guys who worked for a local business asked "You biking across Texas?" and were shocked when I told them the answer. Inisisting they wanted me to have a cap with their business name on it, but finding none in their work truck that didn't have a sweatring already created, we just shook hands before Kevin arrived and joined me for chicken fried steak at Tuffy's. Kevin took me from Mauriceville to Beaumont and delivered me to Michelle Cate's house. Michelle is a "host" registered on http://www.couchsurfing.com/. A quick-witted Arkansasian, she offered a place to crash, a hot shower, socializing with her and her friends, and a hot breakfast the next morning. One other couchsurfer named Alix arrived that night as well. Alix is "scoot'n for peace", driving her motorized scooter 20,000-miles over two years on quest to gain one million individual definitions of peace and raising money for 4 different charities. Alix's purpose and her self were a bit ambiguous and unclear to me, and, despite her gripes about how hard the road was on her body, I gave no sympathy to this motorized two-wheeler that was encroaching on my much needed sleep time with her airy talk.
start time: 7:20am
end time: 3:30-4:00pm
time on road: 5:17:20
miles: 68.57
avg speed: 12.96
max speed: 19.77 mph
calories: 4,894
conditions: flat, mid 70's F, overcast, nice
Baton Rouge, LA to Kinder, LA (62 miles)
Friday May 16, 2008
I had gone to bed with the Weather Channel saying "All is well, Dan. Clear skies ahead". When I woke, the same channel was speaking to me as if we hadn't been friends for the past three weeks. The news: No longer clear. 60% chance of rain. Clear skies to the west (or so they say). Not wanting to lose momentum by staying another luxurious night at the casa of Ron and Lauren despite uncertain skies, I chose to head out as planned.
Ron, Phil, and I left the house at 6am and went to breakfast at Frank's Restaurant - "Home of the best biscuits in the world." After a hearty oatmeal and a biscuit (of course), I headed west with Ron, while Phil headed up to Ron's hunting land to work on a water problem in his trailer there. Ron took me over the Hwy 190 bridge crossing the Mississippi River. He went further and took me over the Achafalaya River (and Mississippi River spillway 7-mile bicycle unfriendly bridge) and started me near Krotz Springs on Hwy 190. This beats coordinating a police escort over the Mississippi River Bridge and maybe hitching a ride over the Achafalaya. Thanks to Ron for that generous boost.
As I was getting started, there was just a little drizzle coming from the sky. Cool and damp, feeling my creaking knees in this weather, I chose against rain gear in hopes it wouldn't amount to much.
Through flat Port Barre and on to Opelousas, home of the Spice Music Festival, not far past Mama's Fried Chicken I met two other clearly geared up long distance cyclists aiming east. Not wanting to pass the chance to chat with them, I crossed traffic and we talked for a while. Oris, age 75 (if I recall correctly) is from Claremont, CA near Los Angeles, and he was traveling with Bob, age 55, from Massachusettes. Each traveling alone, they met a week or so ago and began biking together. The more I was talking with Oris, the more his stories seemed familiar. Turns out I had read part of his blog on http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/, where I have another blog. Oris has trekked across the US 4 times counting this trip and had a lot of good info to share. One item in particular: how to deal with the chasing dogs. Oris advised "Stop on a dime as soon as they start chasing" insisting the dog wants the chase, not the catch. Bob backed him up on this advice as well. Seemed a bit self-sacrificial to me, but their unwavering confidence in the tactic was convincing. Oris and Bob also advised steering south to San Antonio to go around some of the peaks in Texas Hill Country as well as staying on Hwy 90 near Alpine as I headed west to avoid Fort Davis mountains. Glad we talked!
Heading down the road, I stopped in Lawtell only for a drink and snack before reaching Redlich's City Cash store in Basile, Louisiana where I needed the same things in addition to a bathroom break. This was deep in the Cajun country, or is it Acadian? Anyway, hearing a different accent from the girl at the register directing me to the bathrooms at an out-building across the parking lot from the store (da batroom is ova dare), I found myself the victim of what must've been a bathroom-cleaner strike. Only after I did what I needed to do, did I find there was no TP (damn), no handtowels (double damn), and no soap (triple damn). I just started laughing. What else could I do? After finding a solution to each of those issues in my handlebar bag (which I carry with me everywhere when away from the bike), I went back to the store and got a snack and drink and settled into a rocking chair out front to celebrate my wise stash of supplies I had just found so useful moments earlier. In the purple and gold LSU rocking chair next to me was a 36-year old black man named Houston. I saw Houston had biked up on his single speed BMX bike when I was heading into the store. After talking with him, I found out Houston bikes to the store, gets the keys for one of the cars, then takes the car to go wash it, and returns for the next car. "I take care of all their cars here" he said proudly. After learning I was from San Diego, Houston told me about having spent age 17 to 36 in Richmond, California (San Francisco Bay area). He left many friends back there to return home to Basile, Louisiana recently. He would like to go visit one day but he is convinced half of his friends are likely dead. I chose not to ask why, instead easing my way into the request for a photo. After allowing his "picture to be made", he asked me to send him a postcard from San Diego when I get there. Giving me his address (which he got from his wife using the store telephone), he also requested a San Diego t-shirt be sent. Though I am riding a bike and not a sleigh, I took his Christmas wish down. Thanking me, he read me his phone number from a note in his wallet in case I needed to call for anything down the road.
Continuing west on Hwy 190, I went through Elton where I saw many rice dryers along the side of the road. I passed many rice fields, and catfish farms on this stretch of the highway, so a rice dryer seemed logical. In this lowland wet stretch where catfish and rice thrive, I often heard motion in the tall grass just off the shoulder of the highway. Based on the roadkill I had witnessed, the primary candidate were frogs, snakes, or armadillos, and I still don't know what that otter looking creature really was.
From the town of Lauderdale almost until Kinder, the paved shoulder disappeared causing me to recall Mississippi roads, but the grass and gravel shoulders were still passable.
I stayed at the SmartRooms Inn at Kinder on Hwy 165 and 383 for $55. The room was small, clean, but lacked thresholds between the carpet and linoleum. Stepping on the carpet tackstrip twice barefooted, I likely cursed and then created my own threshold with a towel. The place wasn't great, but was half the price of anything else on a Friday night here. The remedy for a bleeding foot is a big meal at the Catfish Hut next door: catfish, crawfish etoufee, sweet potato, hushpuppies, and cheesecake.
starttime: 8:00am (?)
end time: 4:00pm
time on bike: 4:34:05
miles: 61.62
avg spd: 13.49,ph
max spd: 21.72 mph
calories: 4,604
terrain: flat and easy
weather: overcast, 80F, humid, but no winds.
I had gone to bed with the Weather Channel saying "All is well, Dan. Clear skies ahead". When I woke, the same channel was speaking to me as if we hadn't been friends for the past three weeks. The news: No longer clear. 60% chance of rain. Clear skies to the west (or so they say). Not wanting to lose momentum by staying another luxurious night at the casa of Ron and Lauren despite uncertain skies, I chose to head out as planned.
Ron, Phil, and I left the house at 6am and went to breakfast at Frank's Restaurant - "Home of the best biscuits in the world." After a hearty oatmeal and a biscuit (of course), I headed west with Ron, while Phil headed up to Ron's hunting land to work on a water problem in his trailer there. Ron took me over the Hwy 190 bridge crossing the Mississippi River. He went further and took me over the Achafalaya River (and Mississippi River spillway 7-mile bicycle unfriendly bridge) and started me near Krotz Springs on Hwy 190. This beats coordinating a police escort over the Mississippi River Bridge and maybe hitching a ride over the Achafalaya. Thanks to Ron for that generous boost.
As I was getting started, there was just a little drizzle coming from the sky. Cool and damp, feeling my creaking knees in this weather, I chose against rain gear in hopes it wouldn't amount to much.
Through flat Port Barre and on to Opelousas, home of the Spice Music Festival, not far past Mama's Fried Chicken I met two other clearly geared up long distance cyclists aiming east. Not wanting to pass the chance to chat with them, I crossed traffic and we talked for a while. Oris, age 75 (if I recall correctly) is from Claremont, CA near Los Angeles, and he was traveling with Bob, age 55, from Massachusettes. Each traveling alone, they met a week or so ago and began biking together. The more I was talking with Oris, the more his stories seemed familiar. Turns out I had read part of his blog on http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/, where I have another blog. Oris has trekked across the US 4 times counting this trip and had a lot of good info to share. One item in particular: how to deal with the chasing dogs. Oris advised "Stop on a dime as soon as they start chasing" insisting the dog wants the chase, not the catch. Bob backed him up on this advice as well. Seemed a bit self-sacrificial to me, but their unwavering confidence in the tactic was convincing. Oris and Bob also advised steering south to San Antonio to go around some of the peaks in Texas Hill Country as well as staying on Hwy 90 near Alpine as I headed west to avoid Fort Davis mountains. Glad we talked!
Heading down the road, I stopped in Lawtell only for a drink and snack before reaching Redlich's City Cash store in Basile, Louisiana where I needed the same things in addition to a bathroom break. This was deep in the Cajun country, or is it Acadian? Anyway, hearing a different accent from the girl at the register directing me to the bathrooms at an out-building across the parking lot from the store (da batroom is ova dare), I found myself the victim of what must've been a bathroom-cleaner strike. Only after I did what I needed to do, did I find there was no TP (damn), no handtowels (double damn), and no soap (triple damn). I just started laughing. What else could I do? After finding a solution to each of those issues in my handlebar bag (which I carry with me everywhere when away from the bike), I went back to the store and got a snack and drink and settled into a rocking chair out front to celebrate my wise stash of supplies I had just found so useful moments earlier. In the purple and gold LSU rocking chair next to me was a 36-year old black man named Houston. I saw Houston had biked up on his single speed BMX bike when I was heading into the store. After talking with him, I found out Houston bikes to the store, gets the keys for one of the cars, then takes the car to go wash it, and returns for the next car. "I take care of all their cars here" he said proudly. After learning I was from San Diego, Houston told me about having spent age 17 to 36 in Richmond, California (San Francisco Bay area). He left many friends back there to return home to Basile, Louisiana recently. He would like to go visit one day but he is convinced half of his friends are likely dead. I chose not to ask why, instead easing my way into the request for a photo. After allowing his "picture to be made", he asked me to send him a postcard from San Diego when I get there. Giving me his address (which he got from his wife using the store telephone), he also requested a San Diego t-shirt be sent. Though I am riding a bike and not a sleigh, I took his Christmas wish down. Thanking me, he read me his phone number from a note in his wallet in case I needed to call for anything down the road.
Continuing west on Hwy 190, I went through Elton where I saw many rice dryers along the side of the road. I passed many rice fields, and catfish farms on this stretch of the highway, so a rice dryer seemed logical. In this lowland wet stretch where catfish and rice thrive, I often heard motion in the tall grass just off the shoulder of the highway. Based on the roadkill I had witnessed, the primary candidate were frogs, snakes, or armadillos, and I still don't know what that otter looking creature really was.
From the town of Lauderdale almost until Kinder, the paved shoulder disappeared causing me to recall Mississippi roads, but the grass and gravel shoulders were still passable.
I stayed at the SmartRooms Inn at Kinder on Hwy 165 and 383 for $55. The room was small, clean, but lacked thresholds between the carpet and linoleum. Stepping on the carpet tackstrip twice barefooted, I likely cursed and then created my own threshold with a towel. The place wasn't great, but was half the price of anything else on a Friday night here. The remedy for a bleeding foot is a big meal at the Catfish Hut next door: catfish, crawfish etoufee, sweet potato, hushpuppies, and cheesecake.
starttime: 8:00am (?)
end time: 4:00pm
time on bike: 4:34:05
miles: 61.62
avg spd: 13.49,ph
max spd: 21.72 mph
calories: 4,604
terrain: flat and easy
weather: overcast, 80F, humid, but no winds.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Updates
Friday May 16, 2008: Baton Rouge, LA to Kinder, LA (62 miles)
Saturday May 17, 2008: Kinder, LA to Beaumont, TX (67 miles)
Sunday May 18, 2008: Beaumont, TX to Houston, TX (30 miles)
Will update this when in Austin.
Also consider going to my other site:
http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/danbikeride
it has photos.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Staying Put in Baton Rouge, LA
Thursday May 15, 2008
I am resting in Baton Rouge. Ideally, a rest day comes after 3 days. That may seem excessive and may be reduced over time, but it is ideal especially when there is an “energizing station” en route where I have family or friends.
Staying put this time was out of necessity due to weather as well. Shortly after I got off the bike yesterday, and I found out the area is under a Thunderstorm Warning and Tornado Watch. Listening to the rains last night while in bed confirmed it was nothing I wanted to encounter while riding, but gave me flashbacks of the rain I once encountered while living in Alabama, not being able to see past the hood of your own vehicle.
Clear sunny skies right now at 2:15pm. Forecast looks like it should be cloudy tomorrow and clear for a week. Despite having all the comforts of home here, I plan to head off tomorrow AM and keep getting closer to home. Though temptation lurks...
I am resting in Baton Rouge. Ideally, a rest day comes after 3 days. That may seem excessive and may be reduced over time, but it is ideal especially when there is an “energizing station” en route where I have family or friends.
Staying put this time was out of necessity due to weather as well. Shortly after I got off the bike yesterday, and I found out the area is under a Thunderstorm Warning and Tornado Watch. Listening to the rains last night while in bed confirmed it was nothing I wanted to encounter while riding, but gave me flashbacks of the rain I once encountered while living in Alabama, not being able to see past the hood of your own vehicle.
Clear sunny skies right now at 2:15pm. Forecast looks like it should be cloudy tomorrow and clear for a week. Despite having all the comforts of home here, I plan to head off tomorrow AM and keep getting closer to home. Though temptation lurks...
Amite, LA to Baton Rouge, LA (50 miles)
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Awake at 5am and glued to the weather channel. Having just found out the storms in Baton Rouge are now due in after noon and morning forecast is simply clouds, I did a little celebration dance while eating nuked pizza and drinking Coke from the night before.
Today would be a focused day of riding without unnecessary stops or chitchats I am afraid. With an Immodium and Phazyme in my belly to chase the pizza and reduce potential stops, I left the hotel at 7:15am. As I was leaving, a little Indian boy, the son of the owners, was sad because he was sick and had to go to school. He stood with his grandma as the bus approached, while his mother explained to me that he wanted ice cream, but she wouldn’t let him because ice cream makes the sickness worse. Recalling huge heaps of ice cream I used to see my Dad serve himself over apple pie my grandma (aka Granny) made, I also recalled my Dad was rarely sick. Not sure there was truth to the ice cream/sickness relationship explained to me, I pedaled off down State Road 16.
Montpelier was the first community I biked through, only waving to a couple fellas hanging out on the loading dock type entrance of the coop.
In Pine Grove, I stopped at the only NAPA store I have ever seen that sells groceries. “We have to.” the lady behind the counter said, “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
At a truck stop in Dennis Mills area, the friendliest thing I encountered despite the multiple employees there, were the Oreos I purchased along with Vitamin water. Too bad unfriendly employees shape my opinion so quickly, but with limited experiences in each community on this trip, each one counts.
Watson is definitely the largest town on Highway 16. Negotiating shoulder room due to road work, I made it through just fine. Resting for a moment on the roadside where a trucker was tying down heavy equipment before heading off, I recovered from the stress that “road work ahead” can mean as a bicyclist. As the trucker started heading off, he threw me a wave. A little further down the road, another man pushing his single speed bike on flat terrain asked me questions about where I was heading having witnessed the packed bike I ride. “You sure must have strong legs” he said. “Stronger everyday”, I replied with a smile knowing Florida was my training ground and I was still in training today in Louisiana.
Following directions provided by the GPS, I crossed the Amite River via busy and virtually shoulderless Greenwell Springs Road, followed by Sherwood Forest Road, where I felt lower back tightness starting to make itself known. Years back, a doctor suggested lower back surgery, and I avoided it with some successful physical therapy. A week before the trip, I had another low back “incident” (yeah, Mom, I never told you about that one). I have the dope I need (along with time I don’t want to take) to fix those issues if they get bad, but I took a timeout to stretch with the bike leaned against a Jack in the Box drive through sign. Committing to a slower easier pace the remaining 7 miles, I made it in record time from Amite, LA to Hilltrace Avenue in Baton Rouge, where I met Phil the father of Lauren’s daughter-in-law, as well as Chester, who I seem to recall is Ron’s brother. 50 miles from Amite, LA to Baton Rouge by 12:15pm and no rain. 15 minutes into a chat with Phil and Chester while we were inside, I was watching rain come down outside! Good timing, I thought.
A quick Subway lunch, followed by heaping plate loads of food at a Country Club buffet at night that Lauren and Ron treated me to, and I think my calorie count was replenished. I can’t say enough about the hospitality of Lauren and Ron. A great place to sleep, do laundry, a stocked fridge, and use of their computer. They are truly two great examples of southern hospitality!
Start: 7:19am
End: 12:15PM
On bike: 3:41:10
Mileage: 50.36
Calories: 3,762
Avg speed: 13.66 mph
Max speed: 25.14 mph
Flat terrain the whole way
Temp: 72-80F, high humidity
Awake at 5am and glued to the weather channel. Having just found out the storms in Baton Rouge are now due in after noon and morning forecast is simply clouds, I did a little celebration dance while eating nuked pizza and drinking Coke from the night before.
Today would be a focused day of riding without unnecessary stops or chitchats I am afraid. With an Immodium and Phazyme in my belly to chase the pizza and reduce potential stops, I left the hotel at 7:15am. As I was leaving, a little Indian boy, the son of the owners, was sad because he was sick and had to go to school. He stood with his grandma as the bus approached, while his mother explained to me that he wanted ice cream, but she wouldn’t let him because ice cream makes the sickness worse. Recalling huge heaps of ice cream I used to see my Dad serve himself over apple pie my grandma (aka Granny) made, I also recalled my Dad was rarely sick. Not sure there was truth to the ice cream/sickness relationship explained to me, I pedaled off down State Road 16.
Montpelier was the first community I biked through, only waving to a couple fellas hanging out on the loading dock type entrance of the coop.
In Pine Grove, I stopped at the only NAPA store I have ever seen that sells groceries. “We have to.” the lady behind the counter said, “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
At a truck stop in Dennis Mills area, the friendliest thing I encountered despite the multiple employees there, were the Oreos I purchased along with Vitamin water. Too bad unfriendly employees shape my opinion so quickly, but with limited experiences in each community on this trip, each one counts.
Watson is definitely the largest town on Highway 16. Negotiating shoulder room due to road work, I made it through just fine. Resting for a moment on the roadside where a trucker was tying down heavy equipment before heading off, I recovered from the stress that “road work ahead” can mean as a bicyclist. As the trucker started heading off, he threw me a wave. A little further down the road, another man pushing his single speed bike on flat terrain asked me questions about where I was heading having witnessed the packed bike I ride. “You sure must have strong legs” he said. “Stronger everyday”, I replied with a smile knowing Florida was my training ground and I was still in training today in Louisiana.
Following directions provided by the GPS, I crossed the Amite River via busy and virtually shoulderless Greenwell Springs Road, followed by Sherwood Forest Road, where I felt lower back tightness starting to make itself known. Years back, a doctor suggested lower back surgery, and I avoided it with some successful physical therapy. A week before the trip, I had another low back “incident” (yeah, Mom, I never told you about that one). I have the dope I need (along with time I don’t want to take) to fix those issues if they get bad, but I took a timeout to stretch with the bike leaned against a Jack in the Box drive through sign. Committing to a slower easier pace the remaining 7 miles, I made it in record time from Amite, LA to Hilltrace Avenue in Baton Rouge, where I met Phil the father of Lauren’s daughter-in-law, as well as Chester, who I seem to recall is Ron’s brother. 50 miles from Amite, LA to Baton Rouge by 12:15pm and no rain. 15 minutes into a chat with Phil and Chester while we were inside, I was watching rain come down outside! Good timing, I thought.
A quick Subway lunch, followed by heaping plate loads of food at a Country Club buffet at night that Lauren and Ron treated me to, and I think my calorie count was replenished. I can’t say enough about the hospitality of Lauren and Ron. A great place to sleep, do laundry, a stocked fridge, and use of their computer. They are truly two great examples of southern hospitality!
Start: 7:19am
End: 12:15PM
On bike: 3:41:10
Mileage: 50.36
Calories: 3,762
Avg speed: 13.66 mph
Max speed: 25.14 mph
Flat terrain the whole way
Temp: 72-80F, high humidity
Poplarville, MS to Amite, Louisiana (77 Miles)
Tuesday May 13, 2008
Awake at 5am and started pedaling at 7:15am after saying goodbye to Brad “Bibsy” Haas, the name selected by his choice of bib overalls this morning.
The route out of Poplarville took many turns so mileage was adding up fast as I kept an eye peeled for dogs while following the “treasure map” that would lead me home (eventually). After a run from four dogs so far, the of which the smallest and scrappiest got the closest to me because I overlooked him until last minute, I had found a calm area where I could take a bathroom moment to myself. I only tell you this because I can’t believe it happened, but due to my concern about dogs, I stayed on the bike, did a little move that only men can do, and while watching for both dogs and cars, I managed to take care of business while standing over the bike. With complete focus on potential dogs and cars, I failed to realize I was peeing on my front right pannier. Hysterical. Good thing they are waterproof. With any luck, that is the only rain they will see today.
I was on quiet Holden Road in Pearl River County, Mississippi, when I saw two people out for a walk at 8:30am or so. Seeing no dog threat, I slowed to ask them about weather reports. It was Larry and his wife, originally from the area, but now living in Arkansas. We got to talking and I shared with them info about the ride, the charity, and the website. Larry asked me if I was a Christian and whether I knew if I would go to heaven or hell “if anything happened to me on this ride”. I guess I prefer not to think in those terms, and does anyone really know??? But sensing the right answer was “Heaven” that is what I said. Later revealing he was a missionary at one time and now a pastor, he was pleased with my answer and explained that he would be negligent if he didn’t ask me a question like that knowing we would likely never meet again. As a former salesman, I somehow understood his need to present a 30-second elevator pitch to salvation. After his promise to look up the website, we parted. Nice folks.
By 9:30am I crossed into Louisiana at Bogalusa (popln 13,365). Having crossed the Pearl River with an empty water bottle and a bottom in need of a break, I stopped at Chevron to get a drink and snack. After asking about a Louisiana map to prepare for my departure from the predesignated ACA route for the eventual approach to Baton Rouge, the girl behind the counter got responses to her “You’re not from here?” questions that by her bulged eyes suggested disbelief. That’s right, I’m in Louisiana now. This isn’t Florida anymore. I am a rookie no longer, though the impending mountains many days ahead may in a flash repeal my self-induction into whatever club I feel I belong in right now. Before leaving the station, freakish bugs that fly while potentially procreating were swarming all over me and my bike. My positive interpretation: A fertility blessing. Haha.
Finding a Walgreens and rolling up at the right time to meet an employee on break outside waving and yelling at her 85-year old daddy who was pulling up to the stop light, but looking her way probably with hopes of seeing his daughter at work, I was told I could find a state map right here. I bought a Louisiana state map (along with one for Texas, I mean, why not?) and after a quick glance at the map, a wave to the employee and her daddy who were now talking in the parking lot, I headed for Franklinton along State Road 60, again following many turns to get through town.
After a fairly easy ride out of Bogalusa, I stopped at a Baptist Church at the corner of State Road 60 and State Road 1072, my next path to follow. Hanging out in the shade for a few moments and studying my new purchased map, I cooled off before heading back to the road. Glad to have had a little rest there, I met the consistent rolling hills of State Road 1072 in eastern Louisiana. Up and down, and up and down, and up…. and…. down, seemingly slowing each time, I approached Springhill where my map showed no services. Instead though I found Papa J’s Grocery and a sign for the regionally famous Hunt Brothers Pizza. By the way I was dressed and my unfamiliarity to them, John, Debbie (bro and sis owners), and Debbie’s husband Tom, the only people inside, knew right away I was a cyclist. We talked about the weather and the ride up the hills. Just then John told me to be very careful up the road a few miles just past the airport. He suggested trying to be real quiet on the road as the owner there has 3 mean rottweilers that he doesn’t keep chained up. He told me that recently with another cycling group there was an incident that lead to the cross with bicycle helmet that now sits on the side of the road there. “Oh sh!t”, I thought. I just ran from 6 dogs today, and with these rolling hills, I’m not going to be able to outrun rottweilers. “Really?” I asked with a face full of fear. “Nah”, John said as he bellowed out laughter. The other two followed his lead with laughs and told him how bad he was. Relieved it was a joke, I stayed for a cold Dr. Pepper sold in a glass bottle, some water, and a slice of Hunts Brother’s pizza. After John went home for his siesta, Debbie and Tom helped me with a couple phone calls trying to find lodging. Hearing the only motel in Franklinton less than 10 miles away wanted “only $55 for all night”, I began considering going off route a day early and heading to Amite, LA on my way to Baton Rouge. Before leaving, a cute girl walked in and ordered a half-pound of turkey, sliced thin, from Debbie. As she was waiting, she asked me “Is that your bike out there?”. We talked a bit, and her big brown eyes lit up when I told her I started in Florida and was heading to San Diego. She admitted she couldn’t ever ride that far on a bike. After yesterday’s grueling self-created mindgame through rural Mississippi, I was getting the mental repair I needed with these reactions today. Telling me that “we live right over there” suggesting somewhere behind the wall just outside the store, I think she is one of those nice small town girls that will likely never leave home.
Heading into Franklinton there were a few more hills. A short stop for water and a bathroom at the junction of State Road 1072 and State Road 16 lead me to meeting a station attendant that looked a bit like Brundlefly in the late stages of metamorphism (from the movie, The Fly). He watched an old western on the black and white TV, agreeing “that can’t be good” when on the program men with handkerchiefs over their mouths pointing guns walked into the room, I smiled a little and headed off. He hardly seemed to notice.
Franklinton would wait for another day I thought. I was feeling strong and felt I could power through to Amite (pronounced Ay-meet) down State Highway 16. Encountering the same hills I met on Highway 1072, I just kept plugging away on the wide shoulder of the road and was making progress. Partway there, at a drink refill station, more fuel was added for the mental engine as the people there were amazed I had started in Florida. As I am off the ACA route, amazement seemed to increase as they likely see fewer cyclists come through.
After many, many hills that Tom in Springhill told me he thought were gradual (50% right), I made it into Amite and found the Colonial Inn. For $45, I got a room with two beds, a fridge, a microwave, shower, and access to laundry facilities. With a call to Dominos and more money than I have ever spent ordering pizza for one person, I got some food in me, prepped for the next day, and watched the weather as storms were due to move in. The way it looked, 30% chance of rain by 9am increasing by 10% each hour after that. I had better get started early for the 50 miles to the doorway of Lauren Teague and her husband Ron Phillips in Baton Rouge. If all was flat and no rain, I could leave at 7am and be there by noon. But maybe I would meet more hills?! That’s tomorrow’s problem.
Start time: 7:17am
End time: 5:00pm
On bike: 5:14:25
Miles: 71.42+6=77.42
Cals=5386+400=5786
Avg speed 13.63mps
Max speed 30.57 mph
Awake at 5am and started pedaling at 7:15am after saying goodbye to Brad “Bibsy” Haas, the name selected by his choice of bib overalls this morning.
The route out of Poplarville took many turns so mileage was adding up fast as I kept an eye peeled for dogs while following the “treasure map” that would lead me home (eventually). After a run from four dogs so far, the of which the smallest and scrappiest got the closest to me because I overlooked him until last minute, I had found a calm area where I could take a bathroom moment to myself. I only tell you this because I can’t believe it happened, but due to my concern about dogs, I stayed on the bike, did a little move that only men can do, and while watching for both dogs and cars, I managed to take care of business while standing over the bike. With complete focus on potential dogs and cars, I failed to realize I was peeing on my front right pannier. Hysterical. Good thing they are waterproof. With any luck, that is the only rain they will see today.
I was on quiet Holden Road in Pearl River County, Mississippi, when I saw two people out for a walk at 8:30am or so. Seeing no dog threat, I slowed to ask them about weather reports. It was Larry and his wife, originally from the area, but now living in Arkansas. We got to talking and I shared with them info about the ride, the charity, and the website. Larry asked me if I was a Christian and whether I knew if I would go to heaven or hell “if anything happened to me on this ride”. I guess I prefer not to think in those terms, and does anyone really know??? But sensing the right answer was “Heaven” that is what I said. Later revealing he was a missionary at one time and now a pastor, he was pleased with my answer and explained that he would be negligent if he didn’t ask me a question like that knowing we would likely never meet again. As a former salesman, I somehow understood his need to present a 30-second elevator pitch to salvation. After his promise to look up the website, we parted. Nice folks.
By 9:30am I crossed into Louisiana at Bogalusa (popln 13,365). Having crossed the Pearl River with an empty water bottle and a bottom in need of a break, I stopped at Chevron to get a drink and snack. After asking about a Louisiana map to prepare for my departure from the predesignated ACA route for the eventual approach to Baton Rouge, the girl behind the counter got responses to her “You’re not from here?” questions that by her bulged eyes suggested disbelief. That’s right, I’m in Louisiana now. This isn’t Florida anymore. I am a rookie no longer, though the impending mountains many days ahead may in a flash repeal my self-induction into whatever club I feel I belong in right now. Before leaving the station, freakish bugs that fly while potentially procreating were swarming all over me and my bike. My positive interpretation: A fertility blessing. Haha.
Finding a Walgreens and rolling up at the right time to meet an employee on break outside waving and yelling at her 85-year old daddy who was pulling up to the stop light, but looking her way probably with hopes of seeing his daughter at work, I was told I could find a state map right here. I bought a Louisiana state map (along with one for Texas, I mean, why not?) and after a quick glance at the map, a wave to the employee and her daddy who were now talking in the parking lot, I headed for Franklinton along State Road 60, again following many turns to get through town.
After a fairly easy ride out of Bogalusa, I stopped at a Baptist Church at the corner of State Road 60 and State Road 1072, my next path to follow. Hanging out in the shade for a few moments and studying my new purchased map, I cooled off before heading back to the road. Glad to have had a little rest there, I met the consistent rolling hills of State Road 1072 in eastern Louisiana. Up and down, and up and down, and up…. and…. down, seemingly slowing each time, I approached Springhill where my map showed no services. Instead though I found Papa J’s Grocery and a sign for the regionally famous Hunt Brothers Pizza. By the way I was dressed and my unfamiliarity to them, John, Debbie (bro and sis owners), and Debbie’s husband Tom, the only people inside, knew right away I was a cyclist. We talked about the weather and the ride up the hills. Just then John told me to be very careful up the road a few miles just past the airport. He suggested trying to be real quiet on the road as the owner there has 3 mean rottweilers that he doesn’t keep chained up. He told me that recently with another cycling group there was an incident that lead to the cross with bicycle helmet that now sits on the side of the road there. “Oh sh!t”, I thought. I just ran from 6 dogs today, and with these rolling hills, I’m not going to be able to outrun rottweilers. “Really?” I asked with a face full of fear. “Nah”, John said as he bellowed out laughter. The other two followed his lead with laughs and told him how bad he was. Relieved it was a joke, I stayed for a cold Dr. Pepper sold in a glass bottle, some water, and a slice of Hunts Brother’s pizza. After John went home for his siesta, Debbie and Tom helped me with a couple phone calls trying to find lodging. Hearing the only motel in Franklinton less than 10 miles away wanted “only $55 for all night”, I began considering going off route a day early and heading to Amite, LA on my way to Baton Rouge. Before leaving, a cute girl walked in and ordered a half-pound of turkey, sliced thin, from Debbie. As she was waiting, she asked me “Is that your bike out there?”. We talked a bit, and her big brown eyes lit up when I told her I started in Florida and was heading to San Diego. She admitted she couldn’t ever ride that far on a bike. After yesterday’s grueling self-created mindgame through rural Mississippi, I was getting the mental repair I needed with these reactions today. Telling me that “we live right over there” suggesting somewhere behind the wall just outside the store, I think she is one of those nice small town girls that will likely never leave home.
Heading into Franklinton there were a few more hills. A short stop for water and a bathroom at the junction of State Road 1072 and State Road 16 lead me to meeting a station attendant that looked a bit like Brundlefly in the late stages of metamorphism (from the movie, The Fly). He watched an old western on the black and white TV, agreeing “that can’t be good” when on the program men with handkerchiefs over their mouths pointing guns walked into the room, I smiled a little and headed off. He hardly seemed to notice.
Franklinton would wait for another day I thought. I was feeling strong and felt I could power through to Amite (pronounced Ay-meet) down State Highway 16. Encountering the same hills I met on Highway 1072, I just kept plugging away on the wide shoulder of the road and was making progress. Partway there, at a drink refill station, more fuel was added for the mental engine as the people there were amazed I had started in Florida. As I am off the ACA route, amazement seemed to increase as they likely see fewer cyclists come through.
After many, many hills that Tom in Springhill told me he thought were gradual (50% right), I made it into Amite and found the Colonial Inn. For $45, I got a room with two beds, a fridge, a microwave, shower, and access to laundry facilities. With a call to Dominos and more money than I have ever spent ordering pizza for one person, I got some food in me, prepped for the next day, and watched the weather as storms were due to move in. The way it looked, 30% chance of rain by 9am increasing by 10% each hour after that. I had better get started early for the 50 miles to the doorway of Lauren Teague and her husband Ron Phillips in Baton Rouge. If all was flat and no rain, I could leave at 7am and be there by noon. But maybe I would meet more hills?! That’s tomorrow’s problem.
Start time: 7:17am
End time: 5:00pm
On bike: 5:14:25
Miles: 71.42+6=77.42
Cals=5386+400=5786
Avg speed 13.63mps
Max speed 30.57 mph
Suwanee Democrat Newspaper Article
Date: May 1, 2008
Folder: Vanessa's Folder
Tag:
Cyclist Goes Cross County
Cyclist peddles message across nation
Dan Altenburg wants people to know how
precious - and rare - clean water is in some parts of
the world
Vanessa
Fultz
vanessa.fultz@gaflnews.com
Dan Altenburg, of San Diego, is pedaling a message
while traversing the country on his bicycle. He's raising
awareness of - and funds for - Charity: Water, an
organization that provides clean drinking water to
residents of developing nations.
Altenburg started in St.
Augustine on April 25. He'll bike about 50 miles a day
until he reaches San Diego, 2,300 miles from his
starting point. Altenburg's longest bike ride before
embarking on his current trip was just 62 miles.
Altenburg,
36, cycled into Suwannee County April 29 and camped at
the Suwannee River State Park for the night. His bike
was loaded down with 50 pounds of gear and various
supplies when he pedaled into the park.
"I like a little organization in my life," he said of matching
satchels strapped to his bike.
One bag held tools and spare
parts in the event of a breakdown. Another bag held a
cook stove, a kettle and food rations. Another bag
housed a tent, sleeping bag and a mat. Another bag held
some clothes.
"The gear itself is about 50 pounds,"
Altenburg said. "It would be a whole lot easier doing
this without it."
Altenburg travels alone, with no one to
help carry his gear or set up camp.
"One of the most
difficult tasks in preparing for an event like this is
planning a route, knowing where you can stay, knowing
where the bike repair shops are, all that stuff," he
said.
Altenburg is following a map provided by
Adventure Cycling Association, a group which promotes travel
by cycle. The map lists parks and hotels, the nearest
bike shops and the distance from one location to
another.
Altenburg learned about Charity: Water from a
friend who climbed Mount Kilimanjaro to benefit
residents of southern Africa through a program created by the
organization.
Altenburg's efforts will benefit the
people of Uganda.
Altenburg's goal is to raise $23,780
-- $10 per mile of the trip. That sum will provide
clean water for 2,500 people in need and construct four
clean-water systems in Uganda.
"Mothers are facing
decisions with what to do -- do they let their child die of
thirst or do they give them what they know is not
healthy water," he said. "They're filling glasses with
brown water that you and I would never drink."
Altenburg
said supporting the organization has made him realize
how those of us in developed nations sometimes take
our natural resources for granted.
"We even use our
drinking water for our grass and our lawns," he said.
"The average American uses about 150 gallons a day,
whereas people in the countries we're talking about are
lucky if they can find five gallons for them and their
family."
Altenburg quit his job as a salesman two years
ago to do "something different," as he described it.
First he went to Mexico and studied Spanish. Then he
left for Europe.
"Before heading back to work I wanted
to do something here in the U.S. and I wanted it to
benefit some organization that could really use the
money," he said.
In Gainesville Altenburg met another
cyclist named Frank. Frank asked Altenburg why he was
making the trip.
"I said to him I knew when I was working
as much as I was there had to be something more ...
that I needed at this time in my life to step aside and
find it and enjoy it because timing is everything and
I may not get this opportunity again," he said.
"Frank's eyes lit up and he said, 'Most people don't
recognize that until they're my age -- 65.'"
For more
information about Altenburg visit
http://danbikeride.blogspot.com.
To learn more about
Charity: Water visit
http://www.charitywater.org/getinvolved/promos/dan_altenburg.
#1
Dan
Altenburg, of San Diego, peddles into the Suwannee
River State Park April 29 after riding about 50 miles on
his bicycle. Altenburg is traveling cross-country to
raise awareness of, and money for, Charity: Water, a
group that provides clean drinking water to third world
countries. - Photo: Vanessa Fultz
Folder: Vanessa's Folder
Tag:
Cyclist Goes Cross County
Cyclist peddles message across nation
Dan Altenburg wants people to know how
precious - and rare - clean water is in some parts of
the world
Vanessa
Fultz
vanessa.fultz@gaflnews.com
Dan Altenburg, of San Diego, is pedaling a message
while traversing the country on his bicycle. He's raising
awareness of - and funds for - Charity: Water, an
organization that provides clean drinking water to
residents of developing nations.
Altenburg started in St.
Augustine on April 25. He'll bike about 50 miles a day
until he reaches San Diego, 2,300 miles from his
starting point. Altenburg's longest bike ride before
embarking on his current trip was just 62 miles.
Altenburg,
36, cycled into Suwannee County April 29 and camped at
the Suwannee River State Park for the night. His bike
was loaded down with 50 pounds of gear and various
supplies when he pedaled into the park.
"I like a little organization in my life," he said of matching
satchels strapped to his bike.
One bag held tools and spare
parts in the event of a breakdown. Another bag held a
cook stove, a kettle and food rations. Another bag
housed a tent, sleeping bag and a mat. Another bag held
some clothes.
"The gear itself is about 50 pounds,"
Altenburg said. "It would be a whole lot easier doing
this without it."
Altenburg travels alone, with no one to
help carry his gear or set up camp.
"One of the most
difficult tasks in preparing for an event like this is
planning a route, knowing where you can stay, knowing
where the bike repair shops are, all that stuff," he
said.
Altenburg is following a map provided by
Adventure Cycling Association, a group which promotes travel
by cycle. The map lists parks and hotels, the nearest
bike shops and the distance from one location to
another.
Altenburg learned about Charity: Water from a
friend who climbed Mount Kilimanjaro to benefit
residents of southern Africa through a program created by the
organization.
Altenburg's efforts will benefit the
people of Uganda.
Altenburg's goal is to raise $23,780
-- $10 per mile of the trip. That sum will provide
clean water for 2,500 people in need and construct four
clean-water systems in Uganda.
"Mothers are facing
decisions with what to do -- do they let their child die of
thirst or do they give them what they know is not
healthy water," he said. "They're filling glasses with
brown water that you and I would never drink."
Altenburg
said supporting the organization has made him realize
how those of us in developed nations sometimes take
our natural resources for granted.
"We even use our
drinking water for our grass and our lawns," he said.
"The average American uses about 150 gallons a day,
whereas people in the countries we're talking about are
lucky if they can find five gallons for them and their
family."
Altenburg quit his job as a salesman two years
ago to do "something different," as he described it.
First he went to Mexico and studied Spanish. Then he
left for Europe.
"Before heading back to work I wanted
to do something here in the U.S. and I wanted it to
benefit some organization that could really use the
money," he said.
In Gainesville Altenburg met another
cyclist named Frank. Frank asked Altenburg why he was
making the trip.
"I said to him I knew when I was working
as much as I was there had to be something more ...
that I needed at this time in my life to step aside and
find it and enjoy it because timing is everything and
I may not get this opportunity again," he said.
"Frank's eyes lit up and he said, 'Most people don't
recognize that until they're my age -- 65.'"
For more
information about Altenburg visit
http://danbikeride.blogspot.com.
To learn more about
Charity: Water visit
http://www.charitywater.org/getinvolved/promos/dan_altenburg.
#1
Dan
Altenburg, of San Diego, peddles into the Suwannee
River State Park April 29 after riding about 50 miles on
his bicycle. Altenburg is traveling cross-country to
raise awareness of, and money for, Charity: Water, a
group that provides clean drinking water to third world
countries. - Photo: Vanessa Fultz
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Mobile, AL to Poplarville, MS ("56 miles")
Monday May 12, 2008
I got caught up last night in watching a TV special about the Iditarod in Alaska. That meant fewer hours asleep like I should've been. I got up at 4:30am because Robert and I had a crafty plan. I liked spending time in Mobile, and each day that I spent here I knew would have to be repaid in the heat of the desert. So Robert decided to make it up to me by means of a "power boost". The power boost is a lift out of town equivalent to one days riding distance. That way I never actually stayed in Mobile last night (wink wink), and am still "on schedule".
It was a good thing he did that because eastern rural Mississippi along the designated route is a serious sleeper. It is pretty and I saw deer on the road the moment I hit the trail, but unless you have serious things in your life that requires absolute isolation to solve, and no need for any services (no store to buy drinks or snacks, no restrooms, etc, there could be better places to ride.
Luckily for me, a couple hours and some internal review time into the ride, I met the first of 16 long distance cyclists heading east. The first was this amazingly fit guy from Holland. He stopped to talk, but I could see by his eyes watching another pass him that he didn't like being behind anyone. The info I got from him included the fact they were the Adventure Cycling Association (ACA) group (the same people I got the maps from, but these folks also signed up and forked over $3K I think to do the ride with a "guide" from the ACA). After cutting him loose and returning him to the stream of bikers, I met another, Herb from Sacramento. He snapped a photo of me as I snapped one of him, both amused at the ridiculous feat the other decided to try I guess. Near the end of the group was who I suspected was the guide from the ACA, advising me of a closed ferry in St. Francisville, LA, advising an alternate route through Baton Rouge and a police escort across Highway 190 bridge that crosses the Mississippi River there, as well as water quantities to carry in the desert, and prescribed night riding to avoid the heat. Look at that! Just as I was wondering what I was doing in rural Mississippi the first day after a rest period, these guys gave me a boost in morale, if even temporarily.
I knew they couldn't solve my other problem though. I was starting to get low on drinks and, related to that (kind of), would smile if I saw a bathroom. Hours later, west opf Perkinston, MS, these issues needed to be solved. I turned down a side road because the map showed a camp of some kind located down there. Thinking I would just try to fill my bottles with tap water from the outside spigot, use a bathroom, and politely exit, instead I was surprised to meet the gem of the day. At Rogers Lake campground (http://www.rogerslakesilverrun.info/), a really beautiful place with many lakes surrounding it, I met Nella Ruth Rogers. She was as sweet as the day is long. At 82, she ran this housing development project with the help of two of her four children. She had lost her husband, Rayford, in 1985, and had seen some trouble since: breast cancer, appendectomy, and cataracts. Instead of just laying down, she told me that the secret to life is having something to do each day, a reason to get up in the morning. Based on the maps she had layed out and her ease of discussing the installation of sanitary sewer systems prior to selling lots, I could hardly believe she had time for the exercise program she told me she watches on TV between 6:00 and 6:30am each day. "I take exercise, you know. Low impact." she said. Having finished the ice cold Coke she offered me and swapping stories as if we were old friends, she gave me a hug and invited me back to the campground that is only open to those who have purchsed property there, and long distance cyclists. Just about to leave, I took her up on her offer to fill my bottles with the filtered water from inside the house, before leaving her to make bread with the wheat she just ground up. Where was I?
Glad to have visited with her, I paid the price. It was now 12:15pm and the sun was blaring down. I took advantage of a seemingly deserted Volunteer Fire Department picnic shelter I found on the way to Poplarville, MS to cool off and have a snack and some tasty filtered water.
In Poplarville, MS (popln 2,600), a local told me the only lodging was a campground (besides the $75 B&B even he was surprised to find out existed). On the way to camp, I ate a seriously large shrimp po-boy at O'Neals Restaurant where the shy, pleasant, but straight-tooth-challenged Katy was my server.
At the Haas-Ciendas RV Resort, I paid $10 to set up my tent and got full electricity to charge my electronics, hot shower, kitchen access, and best of all, access to their swimming pool. Brad, the owner, was found in the pool when I arrived, and reminded me of a Sopranos character, smaller than Big Bobby but much bigger than Tony. He told me he was from Ohio and New York, but I think it was more one than the other. He and Colleen, the self-proclaimed "coon ass" (which means Cajun she tells me,were in the pool discussing religion as well as New Orlean's Mayor Nagin's "chocolate city" comments of late. A born again Christian, but considerably judgemental based on what I had been hearing, she pulled me into the religion conversation, and not ready for that topic, I threw a curve ball.
Her: "You know God will reveal himself to some but they are not ready."
Me: You know, they say aliens exist and will be reveal themselves to us as well, but they haven't yet because we are not ready."
After a quick can of soup topper to my recent Po-Boy sandwich, I hit the sack.
start: 7:00am pedal hit road
end: 4:15pm
time on bike: 4:23:08
miles: "56.3"
calories: 4098
max elevation on trip so far: 330' (small time, but growing)
I got caught up last night in watching a TV special about the Iditarod in Alaska. That meant fewer hours asleep like I should've been. I got up at 4:30am because Robert and I had a crafty plan. I liked spending time in Mobile, and each day that I spent here I knew would have to be repaid in the heat of the desert. So Robert decided to make it up to me by means of a "power boost". The power boost is a lift out of town equivalent to one days riding distance. That way I never actually stayed in Mobile last night (wink wink), and am still "on schedule".
It was a good thing he did that because eastern rural Mississippi along the designated route is a serious sleeper. It is pretty and I saw deer on the road the moment I hit the trail, but unless you have serious things in your life that requires absolute isolation to solve, and no need for any services (no store to buy drinks or snacks, no restrooms, etc, there could be better places to ride.
Luckily for me, a couple hours and some internal review time into the ride, I met the first of 16 long distance cyclists heading east. The first was this amazingly fit guy from Holland. He stopped to talk, but I could see by his eyes watching another pass him that he didn't like being behind anyone. The info I got from him included the fact they were the Adventure Cycling Association (ACA) group (the same people I got the maps from, but these folks also signed up and forked over $3K I think to do the ride with a "guide" from the ACA). After cutting him loose and returning him to the stream of bikers, I met another, Herb from Sacramento. He snapped a photo of me as I snapped one of him, both amused at the ridiculous feat the other decided to try I guess. Near the end of the group was who I suspected was the guide from the ACA, advising me of a closed ferry in St. Francisville, LA, advising an alternate route through Baton Rouge and a police escort across Highway 190 bridge that crosses the Mississippi River there, as well as water quantities to carry in the desert, and prescribed night riding to avoid the heat. Look at that! Just as I was wondering what I was doing in rural Mississippi the first day after a rest period, these guys gave me a boost in morale, if even temporarily.
I knew they couldn't solve my other problem though. I was starting to get low on drinks and, related to that (kind of), would smile if I saw a bathroom. Hours later, west opf Perkinston, MS, these issues needed to be solved. I turned down a side road because the map showed a camp of some kind located down there. Thinking I would just try to fill my bottles with tap water from the outside spigot, use a bathroom, and politely exit, instead I was surprised to meet the gem of the day. At Rogers Lake campground (http://www.rogerslakesilverrun.info/), a really beautiful place with many lakes surrounding it, I met Nella Ruth Rogers. She was as sweet as the day is long. At 82, she ran this housing development project with the help of two of her four children. She had lost her husband, Rayford, in 1985, and had seen some trouble since: breast cancer, appendectomy, and cataracts. Instead of just laying down, she told me that the secret to life is having something to do each day, a reason to get up in the morning. Based on the maps she had layed out and her ease of discussing the installation of sanitary sewer systems prior to selling lots, I could hardly believe she had time for the exercise program she told me she watches on TV between 6:00 and 6:30am each day. "I take exercise, you know. Low impact." she said. Having finished the ice cold Coke she offered me and swapping stories as if we were old friends, she gave me a hug and invited me back to the campground that is only open to those who have purchsed property there, and long distance cyclists. Just about to leave, I took her up on her offer to fill my bottles with the filtered water from inside the house, before leaving her to make bread with the wheat she just ground up. Where was I?
Glad to have visited with her, I paid the price. It was now 12:15pm and the sun was blaring down. I took advantage of a seemingly deserted Volunteer Fire Department picnic shelter I found on the way to Poplarville, MS to cool off and have a snack and some tasty filtered water.
In Poplarville, MS (popln 2,600), a local told me the only lodging was a campground (besides the $75 B&B even he was surprised to find out existed). On the way to camp, I ate a seriously large shrimp po-boy at O'Neals Restaurant where the shy, pleasant, but straight-tooth-challenged Katy was my server.
At the Haas-Ciendas RV Resort, I paid $10 to set up my tent and got full electricity to charge my electronics, hot shower, kitchen access, and best of all, access to their swimming pool. Brad, the owner, was found in the pool when I arrived, and reminded me of a Sopranos character, smaller than Big Bobby but much bigger than Tony. He told me he was from Ohio and New York, but I think it was more one than the other. He and Colleen, the self-proclaimed "coon ass" (which means Cajun she tells me,were in the pool discussing religion as well as New Orlean's Mayor Nagin's "chocolate city" comments of late. A born again Christian, but considerably judgemental based on what I had been hearing, she pulled me into the religion conversation, and not ready for that topic, I threw a curve ball.
Her: "You know God will reveal himself to some but they are not ready."
Me: You know, they say aliens exist and will be reveal themselves to us as well, but they haven't yet because we are not ready."
After a quick can of soup topper to my recent Po-Boy sandwich, I hit the sack.
start: 7:00am pedal hit road
end: 4:15pm
time on bike: 4:23:08
miles: "56.3"
calories: 4098
max elevation on trip so far: 330' (small time, but growing)
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Chillin' in Mobile, Alabama
Friday May 9, 2008 through Sunday May 11, 2008 I am stayin' put in Mobile, Alabama. Yeah, that's right, it's not hot enough out there yet. i thought I would let the oven preheat before baking my body for the next 6-8 hour ride.
In the meantime, Friday night I met up with Jackie, an old friend, at the Bucanneer Yacht Club for a crawfish and beer party benefiting the sialing team at University of South Alabama. It was good hanging out with her and others after a day of errands (new riding shorts with what is supposed to be irritationless stitching, as well as a grocery run to WalMart supercenter).
Also met new people from Bay St. Louis in Mississippi, the target of Hurricane Katrina's wrath in the recent past. Hearing about how people have rebuilt there was encouraging news. We even took a moment to teach these nice folks about the drinking game "flip cup" as the University of South Alabama students were outside playing the game.
Saturday has been a lazy day, as I got out of bed at Noon while Robert and his wife Rene went to the beach. I thought better of it as I will be seeing enough sun in the days ahead. Tonight I will be going to a couple block parties in Mobile.
More later...
In the meantime, Friday night I met up with Jackie, an old friend, at the Bucanneer Yacht Club for a crawfish and beer party benefiting the sialing team at University of South Alabama. It was good hanging out with her and others after a day of errands (new riding shorts with what is supposed to be irritationless stitching, as well as a grocery run to WalMart supercenter).
Also met new people from Bay St. Louis in Mississippi, the target of Hurricane Katrina's wrath in the recent past. Hearing about how people have rebuilt there was encouraging news. We even took a moment to teach these nice folks about the drinking game "flip cup" as the University of South Alabama students were outside playing the game.
Saturday has been a lazy day, as I got out of bed at Noon while Robert and his wife Rene went to the beach. I thought better of it as I will be seeing enough sun in the days ahead. Tonight I will be going to a couple block parties in Mobile.
More later...
Friday, May 9, 2008
Pensacola, FL to Fairhope, Alabama (50 miles)
Thursday May 8, 2008: Ride #11
Rising at 4:30am, I got my things together and Ashley inistsed on taking me to the west side of Pensacola. He assured me on the ride I would see why. He was right. The roads were under construction and the shoulders were non-existent. It would've been a brutal start to the day, especially when it was already 80% humidity when we left his house at 6:00am.
Starting near the Perido Bridge in Pensacola, I said goodbye to my friend Ashley and headed out. Not bad for several miles as the winds were light, but the forecasts said they would be increasing to 20-25mph by noon.
I crossed into Alabama at 7:55am. Just as I figured I was close, I began to look for some familiar places or the Alabama sign. I recognized the FloraBama bar and knew I was atop the state line. The welcome to Alabama sign was covered by a "Motorcycle Parking" sign right across from the famous FloraBama bar which sits on the beach exactly on the Florida/Alabama border, but from the right angle I got the photo that I deserved after completing Florida.
Riding into Alabama was exciting since I lived on the gulf coast in Mobile for a couple years and this area was our playground. Even people who do not live near here may have heard of the FloraBama bar since it is the topic of a few Jimmy Buffet songs, and home of the Interstate Mullet Toss, which took place April 26th this year, so I just missed it. Read about it here:
http://www.florabama.com/Special%20Events/Mullet%20Toss/mullet_toss_faq.htm
Facing some increased winds as I was heading due west, I pedaled on. A few miles up, I knew I needed a better look at the beautiful white sand beaches I remembered, so I went to the beach side of the road and crossed into a preserved park area and took a shot of the bike near the sand.
Many a cold beer had been drank on this beach at one time in my past, as well as hearing stories of how my friend Chris' buddy Tab, an oversize guy at the time, wore his regular swimming trunks into the water and emerged with only skin-exposing tiny speedos on. Or oggling at the Alabama girls with their bronze skin and tiny bikinis. Still remembering some of their names, I pedaled on, but being here again felt great!
Orange Beach, Alabama is the name of the first community you reach heading west into Alabama. It is comprised of many a sea-side rental and vacation house, and plenty of hurricane-risk-taking hotels and condos.
Just past Orange Beach, I reached Gulf Shores with more of the same good memories. The winds were getting to be pretty strong, but the desire to see what memories existed up ahead kept me pushing harder. Once I reached Alabama Highway 59, I went north crossing the Intercoastal Waterway. After battling the wind while biking west and climbing a bit up the Intercoastal Waterway bridge, I thought I earned the reward of a photo from there.
Continuing by resisting further photo distractions, I made amazing time into Foley as the winds were coming from the southwest. I raced into Foley, stopping there to refill on drinks once I was near Highway 98.
Heading west on Highway 98 I again faced the brutal and pace-killing winds. Fortunately I had adjusted my seat and handlebars days ago to what seemed the most comfortable positions, and I just hunkered down for a while, dropping gears as needed due to the wind. At Magnolia Springs, I saw a gas station/foor store that would've seemed odd had I not began this trip almost 2 weeks ago. There I got off the bike, and at near 90-degree and 80% humidity conditions, just sat with my back against the wall of the store for a while, just staring at the blue gas pumps and canopy, and watching the nearby tree braches get tossed in the wind and the clouds flying by. I needed this relaxation station more than a drink refill, but to thank the store owner for being there, I went in and bought yet another Powerade.
At the Scenic 98/ Highway 98 split, I stopped again due to the work required to battle today's winds. I went into the Shell store and as I bought a snack and drink, I heard the register attendent tell me about how she was raising a girl and afraid one day, if she allows her to hang out with the wrong type, she will come home with a tattoo and a belly button piercing. Um, considering where I live and how it is almost impossible to find a girl without those features, I wasn't able to generate any sincere sympathy.
Heading on Scenic 98, the rewards to the effort today became apparent. In Point Clear, some of the most beautiful southern beach houses are found. Seriously gorgeous places. Biking further north with little effort as the winds were shielded by trees, I reached my old residence in Fairhope at 210 Mobile Street. I pulled in laughing out loud that I reached this place on a bike I began pedalling from the Atlantic Ocean. I remembered riding a bike from Fairhope to Point Clear and back when I had lived here and thinking I got a good workout. For old times sake I trespassed and took a few photos from the dock where I remembered reading Moby Dick on a Sunday afternoon years ago.
Knowing I was near my destination for the day, I punched into my GPS the address of Stephen & Renee Davis. 1.2 miles to go! Whoo hoo. Stephen & Renee were once the neighbors of a University of Alabama buddy of mine, Chris, and his wife Amy. Although Stephen & Renee had moved since I lived here, I had contacted them with my plans to come visit after an 8 year hiatus. A few good rolling hills later, I arrived at Mile 583 of the trip, at Stephen & Renee's house, drenched in the humidity-produced sweat, and like clockwork Stephen opened the front door with a big welcoming smile and a loaned fresh t-shirt. A quick shower, some tales of the road, lunch with a long lost friend Carl Williams, and it was obvious I had forgotten how much I liked these folks. That fact became more clear once Renee came home, their kids ran around the house, and my buddy Robert arrived to meet me and take me back to his house where I would rest, drink beer like years ago, and eat crawfish and oysters for the weekend.
Stephen & Renee have their gorgeous 2,500-sf house for sale. Although Renee's look vetoed the deal Stephen & I had quickly made upon my arrival: his house for my bike and the ability to ride the country for 2 months, I could imagine living here again. I simply think differently than I did 8 or 10 years ago when I lived here before. I see now more than ever how the town of Fairhope is an Alabama jewel complimented by the great friends I have made.
start time: 7:22am
end time: 2:00pm-ish
time on bike: 3:46:47
miles: 49.55
avg speed: 13.11
max speed: 32.88
temp/conditions: 87 degrees, 80% humidity, strong winds from SW at up to 20 mph
calories: 3,640
Rising at 4:30am, I got my things together and Ashley inistsed on taking me to the west side of Pensacola. He assured me on the ride I would see why. He was right. The roads were under construction and the shoulders were non-existent. It would've been a brutal start to the day, especially when it was already 80% humidity when we left his house at 6:00am.
Starting near the Perido Bridge in Pensacola, I said goodbye to my friend Ashley and headed out. Not bad for several miles as the winds were light, but the forecasts said they would be increasing to 20-25mph by noon.
I crossed into Alabama at 7:55am. Just as I figured I was close, I began to look for some familiar places or the Alabama sign. I recognized the FloraBama bar and knew I was atop the state line. The welcome to Alabama sign was covered by a "Motorcycle Parking" sign right across from the famous FloraBama bar which sits on the beach exactly on the Florida/Alabama border, but from the right angle I got the photo that I deserved after completing Florida.
Riding into Alabama was exciting since I lived on the gulf coast in Mobile for a couple years and this area was our playground. Even people who do not live near here may have heard of the FloraBama bar since it is the topic of a few Jimmy Buffet songs, and home of the Interstate Mullet Toss, which took place April 26th this year, so I just missed it. Read about it here:
http://www.florabama.com/Special%20Events/Mullet%20Toss/mullet_toss_faq.htm
Facing some increased winds as I was heading due west, I pedaled on. A few miles up, I knew I needed a better look at the beautiful white sand beaches I remembered, so I went to the beach side of the road and crossed into a preserved park area and took a shot of the bike near the sand.
Many a cold beer had been drank on this beach at one time in my past, as well as hearing stories of how my friend Chris' buddy Tab, an oversize guy at the time, wore his regular swimming trunks into the water and emerged with only skin-exposing tiny speedos on. Or oggling at the Alabama girls with their bronze skin and tiny bikinis. Still remembering some of their names, I pedaled on, but being here again felt great!
Orange Beach, Alabama is the name of the first community you reach heading west into Alabama. It is comprised of many a sea-side rental and vacation house, and plenty of hurricane-risk-taking hotels and condos.
Just past Orange Beach, I reached Gulf Shores with more of the same good memories. The winds were getting to be pretty strong, but the desire to see what memories existed up ahead kept me pushing harder. Once I reached Alabama Highway 59, I went north crossing the Intercoastal Waterway. After battling the wind while biking west and climbing a bit up the Intercoastal Waterway bridge, I thought I earned the reward of a photo from there.
Continuing by resisting further photo distractions, I made amazing time into Foley as the winds were coming from the southwest. I raced into Foley, stopping there to refill on drinks once I was near Highway 98.
Heading west on Highway 98 I again faced the brutal and pace-killing winds. Fortunately I had adjusted my seat and handlebars days ago to what seemed the most comfortable positions, and I just hunkered down for a while, dropping gears as needed due to the wind. At Magnolia Springs, I saw a gas station/foor store that would've seemed odd had I not began this trip almost 2 weeks ago. There I got off the bike, and at near 90-degree and 80% humidity conditions, just sat with my back against the wall of the store for a while, just staring at the blue gas pumps and canopy, and watching the nearby tree braches get tossed in the wind and the clouds flying by. I needed this relaxation station more than a drink refill, but to thank the store owner for being there, I went in and bought yet another Powerade.
At the Scenic 98/ Highway 98 split, I stopped again due to the work required to battle today's winds. I went into the Shell store and as I bought a snack and drink, I heard the register attendent tell me about how she was raising a girl and afraid one day, if she allows her to hang out with the wrong type, she will come home with a tattoo and a belly button piercing. Um, considering where I live and how it is almost impossible to find a girl without those features, I wasn't able to generate any sincere sympathy.
Heading on Scenic 98, the rewards to the effort today became apparent. In Point Clear, some of the most beautiful southern beach houses are found. Seriously gorgeous places. Biking further north with little effort as the winds were shielded by trees, I reached my old residence in Fairhope at 210 Mobile Street. I pulled in laughing out loud that I reached this place on a bike I began pedalling from the Atlantic Ocean. I remembered riding a bike from Fairhope to Point Clear and back when I had lived here and thinking I got a good workout. For old times sake I trespassed and took a few photos from the dock where I remembered reading Moby Dick on a Sunday afternoon years ago.
Knowing I was near my destination for the day, I punched into my GPS the address of Stephen & Renee Davis. 1.2 miles to go! Whoo hoo. Stephen & Renee were once the neighbors of a University of Alabama buddy of mine, Chris, and his wife Amy. Although Stephen & Renee had moved since I lived here, I had contacted them with my plans to come visit after an 8 year hiatus. A few good rolling hills later, I arrived at Mile 583 of the trip, at Stephen & Renee's house, drenched in the humidity-produced sweat, and like clockwork Stephen opened the front door with a big welcoming smile and a loaned fresh t-shirt. A quick shower, some tales of the road, lunch with a long lost friend Carl Williams, and it was obvious I had forgotten how much I liked these folks. That fact became more clear once Renee came home, their kids ran around the house, and my buddy Robert arrived to meet me and take me back to his house where I would rest, drink beer like years ago, and eat crawfish and oysters for the weekend.
Stephen & Renee have their gorgeous 2,500-sf house for sale. Although Renee's look vetoed the deal Stephen & I had quickly made upon my arrival: his house for my bike and the ability to ride the country for 2 months, I could imagine living here again. I simply think differently than I did 8 or 10 years ago when I lived here before. I see now more than ever how the town of Fairhope is an Alabama jewel complimented by the great friends I have made.
start time: 7:22am
end time: 2:00pm-ish
time on bike: 3:46:47
miles: 49.55
avg speed: 13.11
max speed: 32.88
temp/conditions: 87 degrees, 80% humidity, strong winds from SW at up to 20 mph
calories: 3,640
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