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