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...
Thursday, May 15, 2008
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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