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
Thursday, May 22, 2008
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
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