Each map is the distance of a long Ride the Rockies - about 450 miles.
There are 6 or 7 maps.
Out West, much of the trip will be scenic but desolate.
Steep climbs from sea level to the tops of some serious passes in California.
Long streches without services in Arizona and New Mexico.
We parallel the Mexican border for 100 miles out of El Paso. There are 3 maps for Texas.
This is No Country for Old Men
Saturday a quick ride on the bike path over to Wasington Park for a few laps.
Today we headed ove to the South Platte bike path for a ride out to Carson Nature Center - about 26 miles.
It was cold but bearable both days. There`s still snow on the ground, lots of water and icy patches on the bike path.
I feel good, better than I have in awhile Eileen is going to ice her knee tonight. We`re having hot cocoa.
Andrew,
Thanks for your email.
I`m looking forward to this ride of a lifetime. I`m a bit envious that you have done it 4 times. The closest my wife ( Eileen McGinnity) can come to that is that we`ve crossed Colorado a dozen or so times on Ride the Rockies. The distance covered in a week is usually around 420 miles.
The difference between that and the Southern Tier is that we`ll keep going long after we`ve logged 420 miles. We`ll also be bringing our own food and gear. So it`ll be a challenge.
There`s still snow on the ground in Denver but we managed to log a 40 mile training ride last weekend. Woo hoo!
The only question I have at this point is, do you know anyone who wants to rent a "BOB" for a couple months? Eileen and I only have one and need another.
Regards,
Frank
I dropped my bike off for a tune up yesterday. I made sure to get a tutorial on my slipping gears in case I have to repair this myself in no-man`s land`s-end. I also puchased a second BOB cargo trailer for Eileen using all of our REI coupons from last year. I`m still trying to figure out if we need new wheels and wider tires.
From REI, it was on to Wall Mart for some inexpensive camping gear additions including two plastic "sporks". That`s a spoon and fork combo. Weight is an issue. This won`t be car camping.
I then visited an RV store, a motorcycle store and a auto parts store in an effort to buy a PV solar panel to recharge batteries to keep the gizmo`s going. This 2 month experiment in mobile minimalist living has already expanded my undestanding of WATTS and AMPS. Fortunatley, I waited until today to buy anything. I hope the "iSun Sport" I found online works out.
More from our guide...
Hello Everybody!
I am looking foward to riding with you on this year`s Southern Tier Expedition. I am 52 and I currently live in Kentucky. My experienceon the Southern Tier? Well, I have rode the route once in 2005, and led tours twice in 2006, once in 2007 and I am looking forward to leading this expedition! I love this route! You get some of the best that the USA has to offer! I also led the 2005 Great Divide Ride and the 2006 Northern Tier Expedition. I ride a Karate Monkey with disc brakes and Ortleib panniers for this trip. I prefer Continental Top Contact Touring tires (700x37c) and I use tire liners. Hmm what else..... I travel very light and am using a sleeping bag bivvy with a single surface rain fly this trip. I usually carry 3 pairs of short pants, 3 shirts, a nylon jacket and one set of rain gear. I ride in Shimano sandals. I am attaching a tentative itinerary and we will probably stick pretty close to this. See you at the Point Loma Hostel in San Diego!
Our bikes are ready, time to assemble the new BOB and do a shakedown cruise this weekend. The folks at Wheat Ridge Cyclery also included extra spokes. I hope we don`t need `em. I looked up my bike, a Specialized "Sequoia", at the mfgs site and found the following line, "built for the journey, not just the finish line." In other words, it`s a cruising bike not a racing bike. I once read an article that stated the aerodynamic benefits of the racing position really don`t kick in until you reach 22 mph. Since reaching that speed with an unloaded bike on anything other than a downhill is a moot point for me, I`ll just to ride upright and my bike is designed for it.
One of our fellow journeymen is from the adjoining town. So we met him and his wife for dinner last night. We ate pasta of course.
Like us, Steve has done a few Ride the Rockies. His wife, Nancy, does amazing things with beads. We traded stories about our shared exploits on mountain passes and breakdowns here in our home state. However, Steve has been training for this ride since November and currently has over 1000 miles under his belt, and importantly "in the saddle".
Hmmmm. Gulp.
This morning I have an appointment for a bike fitting at WheatRidge Cyclery. Eileen had this done on Monday. The guy was so thorough, I was impressed. His procedure involved the use of a plumb bob, tape measure, protractor, level and even a laser at one point. Eileen got a new stem to extend her handle bars a bit. My hope is this will help to stave off the numbness in my wrists and elsewhere.
With a bit of dumpster diving, I procured some fine cardboard of the proper dimensions. We broke down two newly tuned bikes after marking the handle and seat positions with nail polish.Then we re-cycled the boxes and taped `em up. Tonight our ponies are snuggled into the hold of a UPS truck and making the dark, bumpy journey Out West on their own.
We found a blog wrtten by another crazy guy on a bike who did the route last year. You can read all about his adventures here: http://www.crazyguyonabike.com/doc/?o=3Tzut&doc_id=2219&v=Jf
This first time any body I know voiced the idea of crossing the country on a bicycle was 1974 ( I`m guessing ). Though I don`t remember the year or date, I do remeber the season, place and crew. I have a distinct memory of a sober conversation that lasted more than ten minutes. We were standing in Tom Wozniak`s driveway, it was Summer - long, hot days. We were talking of Breaking Away. Tim Hayes was also there. We were sure that Joe Lessard would be up for it. We knew Joe would always be able to get to the next town if needed. We never actually got to the planning stage. It was long before the Weather Channel, GPS or pedal clips. I didn`t know what a pannier was and wouldn`t be caught in a pair of spandex bike shorts.
Packed then repacked 3 times, each time putting stuff aside and losing more weight - trial balances. Got the BOBs and gear to DIA. Here`s how it went through Security.
TSA; " You`re going to San Diego?"
F3: "Yes, and then we`re riding our bilkes to St Augustine, Florida."
TSA: " Really?"
F3: "Yes"
TSA: "Is this punishment?!"
Climbing out. Snow capped Mt Evans. White clouds. Moab. Lake Powel. Hoover Dam. Grand Canyon. 4 1/2 lanes of black-top in the brown desert below, then the blue Pacific.
"Green Zone". Two guys seated behind us. Grey hair. Same age. Brown desert fatigues even though their insignia reads, "US Navy". Headed home. 8 long months in Iraq. Politics, taxes, and frustration aside, thanks guys. Welcome home.
We dipped our back tires in the Pacific and rode 40 miles into the mountains East of San Diego. We are sleeping in a campground on an Indian Reservation. It was hot and steep. Tomorrow there will be more of the same, except we`ll get to go downhill. Woo hoo!
Made it through the mountains to Ocatillo, near the Imperial Valley. Very brown, hot, dry, windy. Guess it`s this all the way to Louisiana.
We`re staying in the midst of a group of palm trees plopped into the desert.
The wind blew strong till about 3:00 am this morning. Eileen said it reminded her of the Carribbean. To me, it sounded like we were sleeping in the sails
My leg`s are kicking in. I just suck at climbing. The Earth is not flat - even where it`s flat it`s not flat. Never trust a local if you ask, "Are there any hulls between here and the next town?"
Only 40 miles today. We watched a couple Navy F-18`s strafing near a live fire range on the edge of America`s Salad Bowl - The Imperial Valley. I think they were actually shooting.
I`m have a new found affinity for multiple 24 oz. Arizona Ice Tea - Green with Ginseng. I`m looking forward to a rum bam boozle on the deck at the Cottage.
1). While riding in a group on our shakedown ride out to Cabrillo Monument, a woman walking on our side of the road asked, "Are you all having a brunch or something?"
2). On the day from Alpine to Ocotillo, I stopped with Andrew and Dick at Live Oak Springs for cold drinks (it was a very hot day with a lot of climbing).
As we sat outside at a picnic table listening to a couple at the next table have a domestic disturbance and watching the interesting local populace come and go and wondering if something in the water was making all of the women there pregnant, a big newer silver car pulled up to the split rail fence where our bikes rested.
A 17-year-old man asked got out of the car and was headed into the store when he stopped and started a conversation. It went something like this:
Young Man: "Where`d you guys come from?"
Us: "San Diego."
YM: (look and tone of disbelief mixed with minor irritation): "Why don`t you just get a car?"
Us: "We like to ride our bikes."
YM: "Where are you riding to?"
Us: "Florida."
YM: (look and tone of astonishment mixed with minor frustration) "Why don`t you buy a plane ticket?"
We told him we had all wanted to do it for some time. He allowed as how he was 17 and would think about it for a few years.
One of those days when what goes around comes back at `cha
8:00 am. 12 miles from Brawley, today is a 60 mile ride to Palo Verde. Mostly desert. We carry extra water - at least a gallon a piece. Despite our progress road signs always read "Palo Verde - 60 miles".
Crossing the eastern edge of the Imperial Valley. Less than 100 yds into the desert dunes, I shift gears for a small uphill. The aluminum bracket on the rear deraileur shattered sending the assembly into the spokes. Fortunately I was only 12 mi out of town. Eveyone stopped to help. I began feeling stupid.
9:00 am Big wide wheeled white custom pick-up. Chuck and his wife extend a big friendly hand and gave me a ride into town. Luxury
9:30 @ the Fire Station in Brawley now getting my act together. Plan to leave the BOB here maybe. There`s a reason I wore my Elk Creek Volunteer baseball cap.
From Eileen: Kiss Chuck for me. Bet the dalmation firedog on your flag from Jack helped, too!!
Took a cab from Brawley to Finish Line Bike Shop in El Centro. I`m heading WEST!!
Anthony was the cab driver he has 10 children and 10 grandchildren. We spoke Spanglish. It` amazing how much stuff you can get into the trunk of a big yellow Monte Carlo.
To Eileen:
All my gear here in El Centro. Greyhound headed to Blythe leaves 3 times daily @ 7:00 am. Noonish and 3 pm. I`ll let you know what the plan is when I know more. They said something about a bent axle.
Grrrr.rrrr...
Brian and Monte, the lads at Finish Line in El Centro really know their stuff. As long as I`m rebuiliding the transmission, I ask for a couple new climbing gears. There goes that excuse. Derailuers are fairly standard. The brackets to affix it to a frame are not. At one point I they use a grinder.
From Eileen. Passed Glamis at 11. Pedaling thru a desert headwind now with Jan, Doug, Nick and Andy. It`s 11:40 and we think we`re maybe 35 miles from PV.
To Eileen:
3:00 pm. Greyhound`s south of the border partner se llama "Cruceros". I look a bit silly wearing bike shorts on a bus - even sillier busting a bike down into a box in the bus station. Folks seem puzzled when I explain I`m biking to Florida. I`m headed to Indio where I`ll transfer to a bus for Blythe. I get to Blythe about 7:00 pm. Andrew gave me the name of the place we`re staying tomorrow so I`ll hole up there till the heat dies down.
My plan is to sleep in Blythe and ride out to meet you all tomorrow. Tell the fellas the new gearing works well. So well, I`m already a day ahead.
XxooxX
Crossing the Imperial Valley again. I may snooze a bit. There`s no movie on this flight. Last night, I drifted off to dreamland to the sounds of booming low-riders, and punctuated by helicopters.
I`m awakened at one point by the US Brorder Patrol. They`ve boarded the bus and are searching for illigals and checking ID`s. They pretty much leave me alone. I guess it`s the Spandex shorts and helmet.
They Greyhound from Indio to Blythe bumps along without incident. I smile at the pretty senorita with too much eye shadow and a nose ring across the aisle. There`s some sort of altercation towards the rear of the bus. Claims of assault and broken eyeglasses. We arrive in Blythe. about 9:30 pm At least an hour latenas its very dark. I remove my boxed bike and begin assembling in the McDonald`s parking lot. 3 cops car pull up to the bus. There`s a makeshift line-up of males. Tw of `em break ransk and ghead off into the darkness. Someone cellphoned ahead about the altercation. I continue to get it together.
A pretty young brunette woman emerges from the shadows and quizes me. " You are crossing the country on your bike? ...and you are heading to the Destiny Riviera KOA? , "Well yes, how did you know that? "Because I came out here to pick you up ad take you to the campground" Thanks again for the ride Hillary.
So far the new gears are working. In fact, I`m a day ahead. The next morning the group arrives town. I meet Eileen at the malt shop. We spend part of the afternoon in the Colorado River swapping stories with Andrew, our enabler.
Hot and Hard and Horrendous: The Most Dangerous Road: 3/27/08
While Frank resourcefully tackled his mechanical breakdown, I got to ride on what was far and away the most dangerous stretch of road I have ever encountered as we pedaled from Brawley to Blythe. .
Hwy 78 crossed the amazing North Algodones Dunes Wilderness Area - it looked like a good place to film a remake of Lawrence of Arabia. Glamis was something of an oasis in the midst of it. We were told that the previous weekend a dune buggy rally had swollen Glamis to 40,000 souls (all in big RVs, I am guessing).
Most of the group met up at Glamis while waiting for a train, so we pushed on more or less in a group. The next 13 miles of 2-lane was a series of blind hills and dips, little shoulder, hot sun and speeding trucks. It was dangerous riding - the trucks couldn`t move to the middle line to avoid us, because they couldn`t see over the next hill to see if an oncoming truck might crash into them at the center line.
We reached a Border Patrol Station, where Matt (from UK) appeared suspicious when he couldn`t locate his passport. The officers there told us that the rollers ahead would be worse - steeper and less visibility. The German shepherds were laughing at us in their own dog way. But we all made it intact to Palo Verde. Camped at the Tamarisk RV Park, had burgers and beer at the Lagoon Lodge.
Well, I left my happy home to see what I could find out. I left my folk and friends with the aim to clear my mind out. Well I hit the rowdy road and many kinds I met there,many stories told me of the way to get there, ooh.
So on and on I go,the seconds tick the time out,there`s so much left to know,and I`m on the road to find out, ooh.
Well in the end I`ll know, but on the way I wonderthrough descending snow,and through the frost and thunder,I listen to the wind come how telling me I have to hurry. I listen to the robin`s song saying not to worry, ooh.
So on and on I go,the seconds tick the time out,there`s so much left to know,and I`m on the road to findout, ooh.
Then I found myself alone, hoping someone would miss me.Thinking about my home, and the last woman to kiss me, kiss me. But some times you have to moan when nothing seems to suit yer,but nevertheless you know you`ve locked the door towards the future, ooh.
So on and on you go,the seconds tick the time out.There`s so much left to know,and I`m on the road to findout, ooh.
Then I found my head one day when I wasn`t even trying,and here I have to say, `cause there is no case in lying, lying. Yes the answer lies within,so why not take a look now,kick out the devil`s sin, pick up, pick up a good book now, ooh.
Yes the answer lies within,so why not take a look nowkick out the devil`s sin,and pick up, pick up a good book now, ooh.
Colorado River Resort - Destiny
Palo Verde to Blythe. Easy day of recovery after the desert madness. We rejoined Frank at Fosters Freeze on the main drag. It was a great ice cream stop. We stayed at the Destiny Riviera KOA -- pool AND a little beach on the Colorado River -- was friendly and fun.
Palo Verde to Blythe. Easy day of recovery after the desert madness. We rejoined Frank at Fosters Freeze on the main drag. It was a great ice cream stop. We stayed at the Destiny Riviera KOA -- pool AND a little beach on the Colorado River -- was friendly and fun.
We crossed our first State line and the Colorado River. It was Steady climb up from the Colorado River, just above sea level, to Harcuvar at 2000`. Spent some time on Interstate 10 then followed Hwy 60. Frank prefers the engineered grades and broad shoulders on the Interstate but there`s also something good to be said about the lower traffic volume on the US Highways.
Quartzsite has the atmosphere of a Turkish bazaar where people sell anything and everything in big flea markets.
Unfortunately, the Post Office was closed and we had packed up some extra weight to ship home. So far we`ve lost about 20 lbs and two camp chairs using this method. In the Post Office Lobby, we approached Joann and Don F. and asked if they would please mail our "flat rate" boxes later in the week if we gave them the money. They kindly agreed, and even emailed us to let us know the deed was done.
Many of the crew stopped at the country store in Brenda on Hwy 60 for shade and snacks. But it was the KofA Cafe at a crossroads with Hwy 72 that made the day. KofA stands for "King of Arizona" - a nearby mine. Our enthusiastic waitress served us ice creams, pie and other goodies while warning of all the possible ways we could get bitten by a variety of rattlesnakes alongside the road (sidewinders, diamondbacks).
She also told us of a pictograph rock along the road ahead and sure enough, we eventually found it after passing through Hope. Remarkably preserved considering it`s proximity to the road, there were no symbols showing bicycles.
Beyond Hope, we camped at the Desert Gem RV Park. We had beers and wine on the patio and dined on yummy pasta.
Before iPods there was the music in your head, before that, it was in the composer`s head. I like that.
On a long bike ride, I can usually pick up a stray song or two from the station in my head. It seems to be permanently tuned to pre-disco daze or an occasional showtune. The darn thing is I can usually only remember a snippet of a verse, or worse a refrain or chorus that plays over and over in the same cadence as my pedals. Dave Barry called these "earworms" since they have a way of boring into your brain. So far Cat Stevens and Glenn Campbell have contributed to most persistent earworms.
In this respect, I`ll be glad when we get past Phoenix. By that time i should have somehing new to think about.
Sent from Wickenburg, AZ 3/30
The Unforgettable Cafe in Wenden, 8 miles out of camp on Hwy 60 in Wenden, was, regrettably, closed today (Sunday). But the owner made us a pot of coffee and we sat in her artistically decorated, pretty courtyard and visited.
We hit paydirt 23 miles later with Mexican food at the Schooner Cafe in Aquila. We hung out too long but enjoyed every bite!
Another 26 miles or so brought us into Wickenburg. It`s a cowboy town with an older section that has cafes and galleries. We rode on a mile or so to the (I am not making this name up) Horsepitality RV Park. It was an immaculate place, where people bring their horses for the winter and take group rides with other residents of the park.
One handsome Canadian cowboy, Gordon MacFarlane of Vernon BC, offered to take me back up the hill to town to buy beers for our group. He was a distinguished looking guy with a gentle demeanor and wavy white hair - think Richard Farnsworth in "The Silver Fox".
After pizza and salad in the Rec Room, we bedded down to a cold night. Frank and I had the honeymoon suite on the porch of an unused RV, so we didn`t worry about snakes or other critters, but it was cold! In the morning we found about 8 goathead stickers, in our tires, our shoes and even one in Frank`s moustache. Ouch.
Today was about 55 miles from Wickenburg to Tempe. Souped up golf carts are street legal in Sun City. Frank was not slowed down by the lovely doorknob Nick found on the road and snuck into a side pack for Frank to carry.
It was great riding until we reached the western `burbs of Phoenix at Surprise, then slow city riding across the whole metro area to our Motel 6 in Tempe, near the university district of ASU. We were escorted there by Dennis, an Aussie fellow living in PHX who aspires to be an Adventure Cycling tour leader and joined our ride for a few days.
Frank`s cousin, Marguerite, lives in Scottsdale. She was kind enough to host Frank and me for the night and it was really a treat. We grilled steak, drank wine, yakked, and played with her dog "LilBit". Her son Chris came by when he got off work after about 10, and we yakked some more. The bed was soft and the room was quiet and we slept very well indeed!
We dawdled at her comfortable home Tuesday morning, reluctant to leave the oasis. Thanks, Marguerite and Chris!
Here are snippets from an email conversation with my roommate in college Jeff Causey.
Jeff: When we were in college I on Mclellan Blvd near the corner of central ave and Maryland ( Bethany Home. We also lived at 2200 Alvarado Rd next to the heard Museum at Central ave and palm lane.
Frank: At one point, both McClellan and Bethany home were key wayponts on the map. We left the Horspitality RV Park in at about 8 am. It took us about 1/2 the day to get to Phoenix and the other 1/2 to cross it. We are staying at a cousin`s house in Scottsdale.
Jeff: How is your trip going? Thalia and I are very impressed and find your trip inspirational!!!! We are starting to think big ideas like this ourselves--
Frank: The trip is going well. My butt`s sore but that`s to be expected. Inspirational. Hmm. I think things like what Jim Culveyhouse is doing as inspirational. This is hardly a lark but we also met a woman who did this for her 70th birthday.
Jeff: Hopefully the dessert is in full bloom and not too hot yet. It really is a beautiful and dramatic place after spring rains and before the blazing summer arrives. (keep the sunscreen on for the sun and for the wind as you go 80 miles an hour!!!) Will you be travelling thru the painted desert, monument valley and by the cliff dwellings or are you going the fastest most direct way?
Frank:We`re generally taking Hwy 60 across AZ. I`ve never seen so many Suguaro cactus. We stayed in harcuvar, Wickenburg on our way to Tempe. Tomorrow we leave Phoenix via Apache Junction, and will sleep in Superior for there on to Globe etc. Last night we stayed with my cousin Marguerite. She`s fun and left us well fed.
Jeff: Knowing you I imagine you have introduced yourself to a number of interesting strangers all ready and created a bagful of "life experiences" to pass along to folks like myself.
Frank: As you so aptly put it, this is an adventure. See the blog entry "It`s an Adventure, Not a Vacation".
Jeff: It is actually quite exciting imagining what you are experiencing in my home state and regional territory-- I Love the dessert and it is always difficult to explain to people. you are definitely taking the road less traveled and i am sure reaping the benefits.
Frank: I learned to enjoy in the desert when I lived in LA. It`s a strange but also serene environment. It has a peace to it that`s almost like being near water.
Jeff: Keep enjoying the trip and take good care of Eileen as she takes good care of you!!
Frank: Will do. You do the same with youself and yours ...
Today was Nick`s 43rd birthday. We celebrated it at Denny`s over our Grand Slam breakfasts with a chorus and a card from the group and some carry-able gifts Dee, Jan and Shirl picked up and a caffiene supercharged Snicker bar.
We rolled out and headed through the eastern suburbs including Mesa, where we passed right by the spring home of the Cubs. Thinking of ouir friend and frequently fellow cyclist Bob Z, we stopped for a foto.
Bob Z, is a diehard Cubs fan. Every year he observes his own version of Lent - he gives up beer from Super Bowl Sunday until Cubs opening day. So far it hasn`t helped the Cubs win the World Series but Bob is unwavering in his observance.
We had almost cleared Apache Junction when we were sucked into the vortex of Los Favoritos, a small Mexican cafe. Most of the group (including birthday boy Nick) were also drawn in. It took us an hour to get back on the road again. Some day I will research the science surrounding that phenomenon. Meanwhile I will continue to see how it affects this group.
The rest of this 60-mile day included beautiful scenery crossing Gonzales Pass, but nasty road construction and rumble strips along the way. Linda and Howard were our hosts for the night at the Superior RV Park just next door to the World`s Smallest Museum in the mining community of Superior.
Bones jaring, bolt busting
Driver waker. Biker shaker
Extra lane steering pain
Rumble, rumble, fumble, mumble, tumble, crumble
Top 20 or so Road Pictures of All Time
1. Pee Wee`s Big Adventure
2. Anything with Bing n Bob n Dorothy
3. Easy Rider
4. Death Race 2000
5. Thelma n Louis
6. Smokey n the Bandit
7. Straight Story
8. Bullit
9. 2 Lane Blacktop
10. White Line Fever
11. Road Warrior - Mad Max
12. Natnl Lampoon - Summer Vacation
13. No Country for Old Men
14. O` Brother Where Art Thou
15. Bucket List
16. Wild Wild Wild World
17. Wild Hogs
18. Duel
19. RV
20. Fandango
21. Around the World in 80 Days
22. Trains, Planes and Automobiles
23. North by Northwest
24. Sideways
25. Priscilla. Queen of the desert
26. Vanishing Point
27. If This is Tuesday, This Must be Belguim
28. Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo
29. 2001 a Space Odessy
Submitted from Superior, AZ
Construction workers paving 2 new lanes going up Gonzales Pass. We`re dodging cars, balancing in one thin lane and slamoming through signs. Blacktop machine crew, a dozen or so fellas yellin` somthin` as we slowly struggle past. I realize they`re daring each passing biker to "Pop a wheelie!!!". I get up a little speed, pull up on the handlebars and to my surprise, briefly comply. They all cheer. I punch the air with my fist and wave. They cheer again. It must have had something to do with all the weight at the back of my bike.
Group Shot - copy and paste into your browser:
http://www.worldssmallestmuseum.com/web-cyclists-4-2-08.jpg
Posted from Globe, AZ
Today`s ride was short but gnarly from Superior to Globe. Great scenery, though, including Elvis Rock (so named by the locals because it is shaped like a profile of The King).
Globe is a nice town with some shops and cafes on an old Main Street that has managed to survive the Wal-Mart out on the highway. We`re camped a mile out at the Besh-Ba-Gowah historical site. It was inhabitated first by the Hohokam, who established a pit house community about AD 900 - 1100. Later the Salado people (named for the Rio Salado) constructed a pueblo community on the site, the remains of which are about 50 yards away from our tents.
Tomorrow is an 80-mile grind so it`s lights out early. If I weren`t so tired, I`d be losing sleep.
We rode 80 miles today, much of it across the San Carlos Apache Reservation. Many kindnesses came our way:
-At the Mt. Turnbull rest stop, we ate freshly prepared, enormous Indian Tacos and green chili
-While there, Dave struck up a conversation about fishing with an Apache man. Before driving away with his family, the man returned to Dave and pressed into his hand a small piece of wood - a blessing to keep the evil spirits away and keep Dave safe on his journey.
-The town was preparing for a weekend rodeo festival. Frank attended the blessing of the buildings and grounds, and the Apache rodeo princess invited him to stay and have lunch.
-Perhaps 8-10 young boys on their bikes were enthralled with Dave`s recumbent. They gathered around him, asking many questions, and trailed along behind this cycling Pied Piper as he headed back out onto the highway.
-Matt took the long way around Lake San Carlos (for a total of 106 fully loaded riding miles today!). The pavement was really rough and Matt had 3 punctures. While changing one of them, a couple pulled alongside to offer help. Later, the woman handed Matt a giant Snickers bar and said, "You look like the kind of man who can eat this."
-Taylor`s Freeze in Pima had root beer floats and other treats when we needed them most.
-Nick bought us all fresh-made beef jerky.
And the One Good Question came from a young man who inquired about our trip while I was in the Mt. Turnbull store buying a cold drink. After I told him we were all heading to Florida, his only question was, "Did you all weigh yourselves before you left to see how much weight you`ll lose?"
Awoke at the Sunrise Village RV Camp in Safford AZ to an amazing cacophany of birds. We camped next to a big pond so perhaps that is what attracted a variety of birds worthy of a National Geographic soundtrack.
We finally wrapped up our stint on Hwy 70 ("The Old West Highway, Where History Lives") and peeled off onto Hwy 191, up and over a no-name pass to Three Way for about 1500` of climbing. The scenery was gorgeous all the way - including Thumb Butte and loads of prickly pear cactus everywhere.
Our hostess at the Ponderosa Campground kindly cooked our pumpkin pies and gave us a long pole we could use to knock pecans off the trees for a snack. Her goats are climbing around on the rocky hills behind the campground.
Predinner conversation topic was men and thier bike tools. Frank`s 7 lb bag o` tools was much derided and is now a candidiate for another trip to the post office to be sent home. He hopes to find one of those Swiss army style multi headed gizmos at the bike store in Silver City.
Dave gave me a feathered headband he picked up at the flea market yesterday (think Zena the Warrior Princess) which I will affix to my helmet with pride.
We left AZ today via a 12-mile climb up Needle Eye Pass. One landmark of note en route was the What Would Jesus Do Mountain Chapel and Campground (for sale if anyone`s interested - we suspect the pastor makes a mean batch of Kool Aid).
The climb was long, but really beautiful, as the land transitioned from desert to pine forest. It resembled the Woodland Park or Buffalo Creek areas near home. We gathered at the summit for our first group shot since we dipped our wheels into the Pacific in San Diego two weeks ago.
After 20+ miles of riding (some of it finally downhill) we entered New Mexico. Dave`s Apache blessing kicked in when he ran out of water at Mule Creek with 30 miles to go(nothing there but a post office). A fellow pulled up in a pickup and gave him 2 jugs of iced water.
The landscape was stunning - rolling oceans of grass along Hwy 78. The bad news was the "rolling" part as we had to climb some roller coaster hills before gravity took us down to the minute burg of Buckhorn. One set of 6 hills was perfect - starting out large with just enough coasting to make it to the top of the next.
Our RV park and the Last Chance Liquor Store are about all that`s left here. The RV owners were cordial hosts. Dinner was an improvised yet tasty repast of mac-and-cheese with beef jerky, and ice cream bars for dessert. We`re all sharing a single bathroom so it should be an interesting morning tomorrow.
Dick`s thermometer read 27 degrees F at camp in Buckhorn this morning! We cooked scramled eggs and made sandwiches in the Laundry Room as soon and we got our fingers working. Dave popped in 4 quarters into one of the dryers to warm the room. Back outside Herb meditated his way to warmth as the sun rose higher.
Steve and I stopped for coffe at the shop in Cliff. Hot coffee helped the still cold fingers on the handlebars.
Today is a 42 mile mostly uphill ride that ended with a nice glide into Silver City, home of the Western New Mexico University Mustangs.
We crossed the Continental Divide today but it is hardly all downhill to the Atlantic. Crossing the landmark itself proved to be a bit of challenge. Past a certain point, each uphill held promise of the marker at its crest. As we rolled on, the false summits gave way and after on long uphill i stopped at a sign that read "Continental Divide". At my feet were a pair of discarded plastic angle wings. I took this as a good sign.
I stopped at Gila Hikes and Bikes and bousght a shiny new bikers every tool - including hexes and a bottle opener. The shop is conveniently located next to a brewpub. Somehow I was first to get to this agreed meeting point, so I hung out my slow moving vehicle sign.
Good burgers. cold brews, some war stories and laughs preceeded a trip to the Super Wall Mart for suppplies for the super chili , Devil`s Tower polenta dinner. It was an uphill climb to the KOA Kampgorund. Given the freezing temperatures the night before, most of us spent a few extra dollars and rented a heated Kabin.
Most of us seem to only know the first verse ...
Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl.
Night-time would find me in Rosa`s cantina;
Music would play and Felina would whirl.
Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina,
Wicked and evil while casting a spell.
My love was deep for this Mexican maiden;
I was in love but in vain, I could tell.
One night a wild young cowboy came in,
Wild as the West Texas wind.
Dashing and daring,
A drink he was sharing
With wicked Felina,
The girl that I loved.
So in anger I
Challenged his right for the love of this maiden.
Down went his hand for the gun that he wore.
My challenge was answered in less than a heart-beat;
The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor.
Just for a moment I stood there in silence,
Shocked by the FOUL EVIL deed I had done.
Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there;
I had but one chance and that was to run.
Out through the back door of Rosa`s I ran,
Out where the horses were tied.
I caught a good one.
It looked like it could run.
Up on its back
And away I did ride,
Just as fast as I
Could from the West Texas town of El Paso
Out to the bad-lands of New Mexico.
Back in El Paso my life would be worthless.
Everything`s gone in life; nothing is left.
It`s been so long since I`ve seen the young maiden
My love is stronger than my fear of death.
I saddled up and away I did go,
Riding alone in the dark.
Maybe tomorrow
A bullet may find me.
Tonight nothing`s worse than this
Pain in my heart.
And at last here I
Am on the hill overlooking El Paso;
I can see Rosa`s cantina below.
My love is strong and it pushes me onward.
Down off the hill to Felina I go.
Off to my right I see five mounted cowboys;
Off to my left ride a dozen or more.
Shouting and shooting I can`t let them catch me.
I have to make it to Rosa`s back door.
Something is dreadfully wrong for I feel
A deep burning pain in my side.
Though I am trying
To stay in the saddle,
I`m getting weary,
Unable to ride.
But my love for
Felina is strong and I rise where I`ve fallen,
Though I am weary I can`t stop to rest.
I see the white puff of smoke from the rifle.
I feel the bullet go deep in my chest.
From out of nowhere Felina has found me,
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side.
Cradled by two loving arms that I`ll die for,
One little kiss and Felina, good-bye.
Today was doubtless the most difficult riding on the route to date. It was also one of the most beautiful - up and over Emory Pass (8226`). But the skies were clear and the view from the summit was spectacular.
A screaming, twisting downhill road deposited us at the Black Range Lodge B&B in Kingston. What a peaceful place! It`s like a page out of the Whole Earth Catalog with a New Age, wind chime sound track. The main house dates back to the 1880s silver mining boom; other buildings are of straw bale construction (owners Catherine and Pete are recognized authorities - and authors - on this subject).
There were beds and bathrooms aplenty and everyone was "in camp" by 4 pm. Best of all, our players on the Injured List rejoined the tour - so we are all together again!
The huge kitchen allowed for group participation in the turkey dinner prep and clean-up afterwards. Did I mention the homemade ice cream for dessert? As the wind howled, heads hit the pillows , restless legs twitched and we dreamt of day without bicycling on the morrow.
What`s not to like about hanging out for a day at the Black Range Lodge? We all piled into the big kitchen for a massive breakfast then went about various activities including bike repair and maintenance, massages with the wonderfully New Age, Off the Grid healer Terralee, scratching the house dogs and cats, hiking (Shirl and Jan, who got sleeted on), napping, eating, postcard writing, Dee sewing Andy`s shorts, emailing, doing laundry, etc.
The old woodstove gathered a crowd in late afternoon when the sleet/snow mix came down off the pass to us. The common area resembled a Christian Science Reading Room (or perhaps the Adventure Cycling Rest Home) with just about everyone parked on a sofa with a book or newspaper while Steve strummed the lodge`s guitar so nicely.
Taco dinner in the kitchen was followed by a map meeting; time to get back to our jobs as cross country cyclists!
It was with great reluctance that we left the Black Range Lodge this morning. Everyone really enjoyed the place and the layover time there. Pete and Tom cooked up a major breakfast, we took a group photo, then left the ghost town of Kingston.
Just 9 milles down the road we arrived at the former ghost town of Hillsboro, now a budding arts center. We lost another 10 or so lbs and sent back Frank`s tool kit atv the picturesque PO, once the subject of a short documentary film. The general store served up pie a al mode and although we had just eaten, we felt duty-bound to enjoy apple or "bumbleberry" (blueberry, peach, blackberry, rhubarb and apple combined) pie. It was great.
The wind was gusting to about 40 mph - crosswinds at first, which made it a challenge to stay on the road to Arrey. But lo and behold, it became a tailwind that virtually shoved us the next 20 or so miles downhill to our campsite in Arrey.
There are moments when all the cosmic tumblers fall in place and the universe reveals itself in all its glory...
... when gravity, the wind, and body mass, combiine for a great spin. The machine is clicking, traffic is light, the road surface is smooth and even the slope of the Earth are all ... in perfect alighnment.
Descending from Hillsboro to Caballo we turned after the uphill and the strong head wind shifted to our tails. I did not touch my brakes or turn my pedals for nearly 12 miles. The bike maintained a constant speed of 22 mph. The scenery was spectacular and the smile on my face was ear to ear.
Gravity rocks!
Ed and Kristee gave us an incredible send-off this morning and we cannot thank them enough for their hospitality.
Their warmth sheltered us all fron the cold desert night. The early Thanksgivinng dinner will keep u s going for many days.
Is this a Vermont Bicycle Tour? Just out of Las Cruces we stopped at the historic plaza at La Mesilla - it dates to the 1850s with a church and the building that served as the territorial capital where later, Billy the Kid was sentenced to hang.
I entered the church, lit a candle and offered a prayer for safe travel, clear skies and tailwinds.
On down Hwy 28, we pulled up at Strahan`s. It`s a nice "farm stand" among the pecan groves that serves everything pecan - including pecan pie a la mode! No need to tell you what I ordered. Pecan trees along that stretch , when fully leafed, arch over the road and form a green canopy. Even without the full effect, the road was lovely.
La Vina winery lay not too far ahead. We stopped, tasted of their wines and bought a bottle or two, despite the winds picking up. The proprietor graciously offered us a place to camp (maybe next time - Andy took notes).
All the doodling around for the morning meant it was time to put the hammer down and really, finally get to El Paso. City crossings are difficult due to traffic and El Paso was no exception. After brief stops at bike shops for some fine tuning, we all arrived at the historic Gardner Hotel hostel by 4 pm or so.
The Tap bar and restaurant was the day`s final stop. Downtown El Paso is pretty deserted (at least on a Saturday night). But this place was hopping! A lovely lady named Mariana was celebrating her quinciniera, or 15th birthday. This is a Hispanic tradition; we see it observed all the time in Denver. It`s a young woman`s "coming out" party and they are usually large, elaborate celebrations (think: wedding without a groom).
One never sees a quinciniera in a bar. And the lovely Mariana confided that she`s really 37! No doubt circumstances prohibited her from having a proper party when she was 15. But the DJ and cake and relatives were all in the bar -- and we joined in the dance.
Four miles to the South, the sun warmed the mountains of Mexico, to the North the drumbeat of the Global Village whined with each passing semi down I-10 as our route took us closer. We left the AME Community Church in Ft Hancock, bid good bye to the tranquility of secondary roads and briefly rejoined the 21st Century.
We wound through the small, deserted town of McNary. Fading from memory like the Cafe sign etched in the adobe walls of the ruined builiding that once marked the town center. The only road out of town to the East is actually an on ramp.
Eisenhower was so impressed with the German Autoban as a stratgic defense system, that he commissioned work to determine routes, fund, engineer bulldoze and build the Interstate Highway System. Today we`re the benefactors of another peacetime effort of Brokaw`s "Greatest Generation."
I took my first really long bike ride on a nearly finished but still unopened 4 lane section of I-65 at I-80 between Merrillville and Gary. Tom and Steve and I had an entire 12 mile section all to ousrselves one sunny fall Saturday afternoon. It must have been 1966. I was 12. We slipped past the barriers that barred autos from driving on the concrete. No one stopped us. It was fun. We were free.
The Southern Tier only route rarely rides on Interstates. Usually when there is no other choice. It`s noisy and dangerous. The speed limit along this stretch is 80 mph. On the other hand, traffic is light this Modday morning. The shoulder is wide and smooth and the rumble strips afford us some protection. The slope defies geology and hydrology and defines it`s own topography. It`s a gentle uphill, comprising a 2000 ft climb, but this hardly noticiable except for the quiet crunch of the chain through the gears.
Familiar brands and logos zooming by. Somewhere up ahead, maybe states away there`s a NASCAR event. Many of the semi trailers are emblazoned with oil products and pictures of stock cars. An entire stage on a flatbed preceeds three multi doored trailers, each door with a large star. Some sort of concert is also in the offing. Most drivers are courteous, sliding over a lane to give us plenty of room, many wave. Some toot their horns.
The wind kicks up a bit making the climb more difficult. We join traffic and line up to pass through a Border Patrol crossing. A bit north of the Interstate, a Union Pacific unit train sits on a siding - over a mile of empty auto carriers bound for the machiladoras south of the border. It`s a bit of an irony the Border Patrol juxtaposed against the international commerce of GM, Ford and the Union Pacific.
Rivers, stream beds, trade routes were first delineated by Spanish explorers and later mapped by American Expeditions. Wagon trains made way for the rail roads. Small towns sprouted along the way.
There`s a black and white picture my mom took of my dad, my brother and me in upstate New York. Bob and I are looking up past my dad`s outstretched arm and fingertips arching to the structural steel underside of a highway bridge that`s under construction, just in the frame overhead. Today I enjoy the ride up hill, against the down wind on the enginneered slope along another part of the network my father built.
Later we pass a crew with large ditch digging machines. Close by lies a large partially unravelled spool of fibre optic cable.
As I pull into Van Horn, I remember today is Tax Day. I pull into a DQ, pull the Blackberry out of it`s holster, establish a wireless connection and make a call to my bank in Minneapolis. A computer answers in the guise of a female automated teller. I speak the Hindu-Arabic numeral "one" to select English ... and proceeded.
Today was the longest day of the entire route - 90+ miles from Van Horn to Fort Davis State Park. The route was a climb up to the U of Texas McDonald Observatory. Long before Neil and Buzz landed the Eagle, the Sea of Tranquility was mapped here. It was then a wiinding descent to the park. The scenery was very wild and pretty with lots of junipers on grassy hillsides.
The campground is lovely but we are warned that wild pigs called javelinas are likely to go after food, toothpaste or anything else we leave around. So every fragrant thing has to go into a tent or up in a tree tonight. They are pests, a bit like racoons at the indiana Dunes park.
We had a mix of riders going the whole distance today, and shuttlers who took a ride from the KOA folks in Van Horn to shorten the day`s ride. This ensures that even the slower riders will be in camp before dark, and that we will have been into town for groceries so we aren`t cooking dinner by headlamp after an exhausting day.
I am having tire trouble. Two tube changes on the road yesterday; two flats today. Yesterday was valve stem issues and today I blew 2 tubes due to an issue with where a spoke meets the wheel. Grrrrr!! Need to get this licked since my wheels are 650s and no one can loan me a spare tube. Eeeek.
Birthday wishes to our friend Bob Z. Bob, did you get the postcard?
I`ve been getting these reports since I signed up for them a few weeks ago. I`ve ignored the direction of the wind. This is a right quartering cross/tail wind - great if you have a sailboat and not too bad for a bike. Although setting up tents was interesting.
High Wind Warning for Fort Davis, TX (Fort Davis, TX) until 10:00pm, Thu Apr 17 2008, from your local National Weather Service office.
DAVIS/APACHE MOUNTAINS AREA-
INCLUDING THE CITY OF...ALPINE
401 AM CDT THU APR 17 2008
....HIGH WIND WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT UNTIL 10 PM CDT THIS
EVENING...
SOUTHWEST TO WESTERLY WINDS OF 30 TO 40 MPH... WITH GUSTS TO 60
MPH OR GREATER...ARE EXPECTED ACROSS THE DAVIS MOUNTAINS TODAY.
WINDS ACROSS MOUNT LOCKE HAVE REMAINED ELEVATED FOR MUCH OF THE
NIGHT AND WILL LIKELY CONTINUE THROUGH MUCH OF THE DAY...AND
POSSIBLY INCREASE A BIT DURING THE AFTERNOON HOURS. EXPECT THESE
STRONG WINDS TO SPREAD INTO THE LOWER ELEVATIONS OF THE DAVIS
MOUNTAINS LATER THIS MORNING/EARLY AFTERNOON...AND CONTINUE INTO
THE EARLY OVERNIGHT HOURS TONIGHT.
A HIGH WIND WARNING MEANS A HAZARDOUS HIGH WIND EVENT IS EXPECTED OR OCCURRING. SUSTAINED WIND SPEEDS OF AT LEAST 40 MPH OR GUSTS OF 58 MPH OR MORE CAN LEAD TO PROPERTY DAMAGE.
... And so on.
We slept pretty well last night, despite the garage band playing a floor below us. They started up just after we all went to bed. Frank put his clothes on and headed down to locate the source and ended up schmoozing with "Jimmie Dick and The Love Affair" - no doubt they will soon break through to the big time. Well, maybe not.
The day`s 54-mile ride should have been an easy one. But instead we had our first day of headwind. Lots of headwind, steady at about 15-20 mph with gusts higher than that. As Shirl would say in her British accent, "It was a bit of a slog today."
I am not making this up when I say I saw wind-whipped whitecaps on the big irrigation canal alongside the road.
The tiny town of Fabens offered a respite in the form of Norrine`s, a local cafe decorated with the senior class pictures of Fabens High School dating back to the 1940s. We all huddled in out of the wind and enjoyed our Mexican food and beverages like horchata and a melon drink, all dirt cheap.
Fort Hancock Community Church opened their doors to us for the night. We camped on their lawn and also in the church building itself. We think they are really angels because the also left us an amazing dinner of brisket in the kitchen, plus a cake! How very kind of them to take such good care of us.
Layover day!!! The javelinas left us alone and we were untroubled through the night except for a skunk sauntering through the camp.
Davis Mountains State Park is really gorgeous, nestled in the Davis Mountains in an area of Texas called The Big Bend (also the Permian Basin - kind of a dull term for an attractive area).
Just up the mountain from our campground is the McDonald Observatory, placed there due to the darkness of the night skies around here. Just down the road is the small town of Fort Davis. In the park itself, just a short walk from our tent campground, is the Indian Lodge. It (and most of the park roads) was built by the CCC 1934-36. It includes guest rooms and a restaurant, built in the pueblo style, very elegant and inviting.
Frank rode into town with his kilt over his bike shorts. This really impressed the female ranger at the park office who, yesterday, was so taken with Frank`s DC comics, super hero pants he picked up at Wal-Mart. He looked quite jaunty, kilt flying as he rode. The locals took note.
The town is small but has a number of interesting historical sites. Many of our group converged on the library to check email, and almost everyone wound up having lunch together.
We all cheered when our rider, who had been in the Van Horn hospital for two nights recovering from severe dehydration, walked in the door! He had been released from the hospital and gotten a ride to re-join the group. We were all so happy to see him, pale but smiling again.
Frank and I checked out the Limpia Hotel with its resident 18-pound cat named Tuxedo. It`s a well-restored late 1800s place with a lovely lobby and big guest rooms. The front desk manager was very welcoming and filled us in on some of the history. For example, the Limpia Hotel housed Harvard faculty for years as they came to do lunar mapping at the nearby McDonald Observatory.
He also noted that the entire hotel is booked out in early May due to the Marfa Film Festival. Marfa is a town about 25 miles away that was the center for filming "No Country For Old Men" and "There Will Be Blood". It`s an artsy place now (think budding Santa Fe) and also boasts UFO sightings. As he put it, "secret-y people" from the film industry needed a place to stay during the festival where they could have some privacy. He meant celebrities, but I think secret-y people is a good term.
The javelinas found us during the night. They staged two mini-raids on us, looking for food.
If we had been sailing today, we would have been on a 28-mile starboard reach all morning to the town of Alpine.
A number of us found Bread and Breakfast, a bakery and cafe, and turned in to get something to eat. The owner allowed as how he had had a small role (as one of the "Standard Oil Men") in There Will Be Blood and had also gotten the catering contract for the filming of No Country for Old Men. He is an avid cyclist who had ridden the Southern Tier alone and plans to do the Underground Railroad route in early summer. He gave us all free cookies, brownies and other treats. The food there was great.
The sailing continued after lunch with another 30 miles or so of quartering tailwinds to carry us to the town of Marathon. We checked out the historic Gage Hotel and set up camp in the 20-30 mph winds at a nearby RV park. As I write this, there is a high wind warning in effect and I understand why women on the prarie were driven mad by the noise and dust a wind like this creates!
The wind stopped about 1 am but the temp plummeted and it was just 31 as we were packing up this morning. Frank and I decided we`d ride together again for today`s 54 miles and about 15 miles into the day, we were buzzed by a B-1 bomber heading who knows where.
Perhaps 5 miles later a herd of bison was to our right. Two of them had somehow gotten outside their fence and were on the side of the road, galloping alongside us. One seemed to consider breaking left to charge Frank then thought the better of it. But Dave had a closer call, a few minutes behind us, as one of the still-loose bison headed for him then broke off. A couple of cowboys showed up to catch their critters as Dave pedaled on.
Most of the group rode fairly close together throughout the day. There were really no towns between Marathon and our destination town, Sanderson (pop. 561). So we created our own rest stops along the way. We rode through desert, ringed by low mountains, on a generally downhill slope.
Sanderson looks like it had something going on once, but has fallen on hard times. Matt summed it up: "This is a strange little place. Most businesses that were open are permanently closed. What`s still open is temporarily closed.". He was right - there were very few going concerns around. We took full advantage of one, Paddy`s Pub. The owner is a nice lady with Irish roots, who claims to have run out of gas in Sanderson 2 years ago and never left. It always great to find an Irish Pub and a drink a cold beer at the end of a long ride.
I think everyone had that thought at least once today. What should have been a mildly challenging, somewhat hilly 80-mile ride became a Day from Hell when the headwinds started.
First they were about 10 mph, at about the half-way point. But they intensified, maybe gusting to 17-18 or so. We had to pedal hard just to go downhill! It took a death grip to keep a bike headed down the road. The last 20 miles took us 3 and a half hours.
In the interest of getting to camp before dark, and because Frank had to repair his second flat of the day (really a tire delamination) at Langtry TX, we elected to bypass Langtry`s Judge Roy Bean Visitor Center. That, and crossing the Pecos River, were the sights to be seen on this long day. (The last riders barely made it in before sunset). D.O. Dog was one of the first ones in, due in part to his determination and sleek aerodynamics.
We`re camped in Seminole Canyon State Park, about 40 miles west of Del Rio. It`s known for its many pictographs and other rock art. There are guided tours and we hope to join one tomorrow morning before we pedal away (more headwinds expected - eeeeeek!)
By the way, Tom and Herb had cooking duty tonight. This was tricky in several ways: the only place on our route to buy groceries was 60 miles from where we`d be camping. Tom and Herb had to fashion a meal from the modest selection at the store, choose foods that could travel by bike in 80 degree heat, and distribute the stuff to everyone to carry to camp. Then, they had to wait for all riders to come in with the food, pots and utensils before they could start cooking - in the dark.
Everytime it has been their turn, these two fellas have managed to order in (pizza, Chinese food, etc). Tonight was their "real" cooking debut. In honor of this Matt promised to streak, but we`re still waiting.
The 80 mile hot headwind out day of Sanderson was tough, real tough, a stand up lean into and curse it out loud `cause you`re headed downhill on the small ring makin` only 6 mph kinda day. Several times I also made groaning sounds.
The gusting head wind was somewhere in the 30 mph zone `cept where the limestone had been cut to form a 50` deep trough at the crest of each hill. There the Venturi effect kicked in and made things worser.
Riding a bike puts you in touch with alot of things. The earth, the weather, your bodyn friedly folks, the slope of the ground, and the road surface. Contractors out this way have convinced the powers that be that the most effective roads have a chip seal surface - basically a tar base with some rocks thrown on top. The agrregate of choice is a sharp edged 1/2 stone that offers good all weather traction for car and truck tires. Since touring bike tires are less wide and thick ... it`s a concern.
Early in the day my 14" BOB tire blew. I noticed it on an uphill where we`d stopped for a sandwich and a stretch. . I have no idea how long I had been running flat. I had an extra tube, it was an easy fix. Many low gear rollers and Venturi troughs later, my back tire went South. It`s a lumpy bumpy sinking feeling. We were a mile from Langtry, a one gas station town and former home of Judge Roy Bean. Eileen`s carrying a full size pump which made it easy to restore enough pressure to limp the mile into town.
I replaced the tube but was dismayed to find that my failure analysis showed the tire itself had a large hole where the rubber had begun to delaminate, revealing the fibre mesh. The liner was all that was keeping the tube from popping out. In spots the liner was my only tread.
At this point we were 20 screaming windy miles over chip sealed roads from days end. The Enabler said, "Well nows a good time to pull out your spare." In my sheepish tenderfoot neophyte voice I replied, "I don`t actually have a spare."
The downhill to the Pecos was steep and excitin` enough, ` cept for the speed, which was minimal. The bridge itself is about 1/4 mi long and two lanes wide. 4 semis oncoming passed me and two passed in "my" lane. I hunkered down with the blast from each truck. Part way across a sign read, "No Diving From Bridge" which was reassuring.
Another steep uphill followed on the opposite bank but a mile from our end point the shoulder was new and smooth as silk. My speed increased, despite the uphill and my fatigue.
Just above the confluence of the Pecos and the Rio Grande, we bedded down for the night in Seminole Canyon Sate Park. The food was good, and showers warm. Stars came out. I took the express train to dreamland only mildly concerned about my tire. Everything seemed fine.
I only had the wind whistling in my ears and blowy blustery sounds all over but Doug seemed to be tuned into my station and suggested this earworm. Written by Wille but the Bob Seger cover is better known.
WAYLON
It seems like yesterday, butit was a long time ago
She was lovely, she was the queen of my nightsThere in the darkness withthe radio, playin` lowThe secrets that we shared, themountains that we moved
Caught like a wildfire out of control There was nothing left to burnand nothing left to prove
JOHNNY:And I remember what she said to meHow she swore that it would never endI remember how she held me oh, so tightWish I didn`t know now what I didn`t know then
CHORUS (ALL):Against the windWe were running against the windWe were young and strong
But just running against the wind
WILLIE:And the years rolled slowlypast, I found myself alone
Surrounded by strangers I thought were my friendsI found myself further andfurther from my homeI guess I lost my way, therewere oh, so many roadsI was livin` to run and runnin` to live
Never worrying about paying or how much I owedMovin` eight miles a minutefor months at a time
Breakin` all of the rules I could bendI began to find myself searchin
`Searchin` for shelter again and again
CHORUS (ALL):Against the windWe were running against the windI found myself seekin`Shelter against the wind
WILLIE:All those drifter`s days are passed me nowI`ve got so much more to think about
JOHNNY:Deadlines and commitmentsWhat to leave in, what to leave out
CHORUS (ALL):Against the windWe were running against the windWell I`m older now and stillRunning against the wind
Against the wind
Against the wind
Against the wind
Vent Directed by: Erik Van Schaaik
Description: A humorous film about a man struggling against the wind. Time and again, he is blown back.
http://www.awntv.com/videos/vent/
Wind Data Sanderson, TX 4/19/08 Headwinds - Gusts up to 30 mph! Even more impressive if you mis-read the scale on the right as mph!
http://www.wunderground.com/history/airport/K6R6/2008/4/19/DailyHistory.html?req_city=Sanderson&req_state=TX&req_statename=Texas
Or maybe it`s these hills that made Lance famous. It is remarkable how quickly the terrain and weather have changed! We navigated through Monday morning rush hour to get out of Del Rio today in a mist/drizzle, with no prickly pear cactus to be seen for the first time in weeks (but still a few dead javelina on the road). Today we started into what Texans calls their Hill Country.
We stopped in Bracketville for dinner groceries - Shirl and I are a cooking team in the new rotation schedule, with Frank and Doug as our helpers. But just about everyone was needed to ferry food because the Bracketville grocery store is still about 22 miles from our evening`s destination. Shirl and I decided that, since we would have access to a real kitchen, we were going to cook something delicious. We shopped, loaded everyone up and set out for The Dooley Ranch (aka the Lazy Laguna Lodge).
The Dooley Ranch is owned by a couple who rent it out as a remote place to stay and also a hunting cabin. It`s classic turn-of-the-century Texas ranch house, with an expansive front porch complete with plenty of seating, a big kitchen, an outdoor shower, and 1 indoor bath room, among other attributes. It reminded Matt of a house in New Zealand. The resident mama cat had 2 new kittens and she brought them out for us to view after checking us out - I think she also just wanted her ears scratched a bit. Hummingbirds were everywhere; Herb and Doug were scanning for other birds with the lodge binoculars.
The landlady had left us a frozen lasagna in the freezer but Shirl and I had other plans - roast chicken and baked potatoes. We got things going while everyone set up tents, claimed beds throughout the house and did free laundry. Frank and Steve had gotten a ride from Del Rio from Ratana because Frank had to have a wheel repaired and it took until 2 p.m. before he could get on the road. They were smart enough to bring beer with them in the Mercedes, so everyone was happily drinking cold beer and eating microwave popcorn as dinner cooked.
A lot of porch-sitting followed dinner. It was a very pleasant day.
There is a yellow road sign prevalent in Texas Hill Country. In English, it reads "Watch for Water on the Road." In Hill Country-speak this translates roughly as "You Are About To Descend To A Creek Bed And Then Ride Up A Steep Hill Right After It." We saw this sign many, many times on today`s gorgeous ride along the Guadalupe River and its numerous feeder streams and crossings.
We climbed steeply out of Lost Maples park to more or less a plateau. Again it was a misty day so the views were ethereal and the temperature cool and pleasant. About 20 miles into the day Frank broke a spoke on his bedeviled rear wheel and wound up hitching a ride with a conservation officer who took Frank along to Kerrville`s excellent bike shop, with some side trips for GPS mapping of Cedar trees.
There were some very interesting-looking riverside lodges outside the town of Hunt. They looked like they have hosted generations of families on summer holidays (reminded me of the waterfront lodges in northern Wisconsin and Minnesota). Hunt itself had a great "everything" place - grocery store/cafe/liquor store/bank/community gathering place. I pulled into it for a cheeseburger with Dave, Andy and Dee just as Doug and Jan were leaving. Steve was in there, too. He was hurting again and hitched a ride out of there with a young fellow with a pickup truck.
We caught up with Frank at Hill Country Bicycles in Kerrville, where they had a brand new, 32-spoke wheel for him that we hope will put an end to his wheel problems. Andy bought a lovely pink shirt with epaulets (think South American Dictator for the Cure) at the thirft store in Kerrville for $3 that is destined to make the rounds of our group.
Waking up in Comfort TX today is noteworthy because this is the half-way point of our journey. We rode through the town of Center Point yesterday, 9 miles before we reached Comfort, but I guess Center Point was a little hasty in choosing their name - it`s Comfort that marks our center point on the Southern Tier tour.
Riding from Comfort to Blanco today, we followed the Guadalupe River and many thought this was one of the prettiest days of the tour to date. Massive cypress trees lined the river banks; crops and big grassy horse farms made for a lovely green landscape. The winds behaved and the chip seal was smooth. It was just a great day to be on a bike. As Dee might say, "This is the trip I signed up for!"
Although the terrain was "generally downhill" as we like to say, it still included a few "generally uphill" sections, some were billed by the locals as "amusing", especially as we were on the home stretch into Blanco. The Riverside Bar was convenently located across the road from our destination, Blanco State Park on the Blanco River. Frank, Shirl, Kristina and I ordered cold drinks from Kennye, the owner`s daughter. Dee, Nick, Andy and most of the others eventually found their way to the riverside patio as well. Nick engineered dinner by the pound at the local BBQ on the courthouse square, served right on paper placemats (no plates!) The wind blew all night and we were sure it would rain...but it didn`t.
Texas is so big, we think of it as a planet. Twenty-one of our days and 3 of our 7 maps cover Texas. Today we reached Austin, the capital city of this big planet and the location of a much-anticipated layover day. Our last rest day, Fort Davis, was 9 riding days and several hundred windy hilly miles ago and everyone is up for a day off the bikes.
About 20 miles into today`s 60-mile ride, though, I got to feeling pretty unwell and couldn`t ride in a straight line. This was a bad thing, because we were headed into some shoulder-less roads with heavy truck traffic near Austin. So Frank, Andy and I pulled into the Shady Oaks RV Park west of Wimberly to see about a ride for me to the outskirts of Austin. It`s a very pretty park, with lots a trees and a great little bar/casino right on premises.
We met the owner, a fellow graduate with Frank of USC who could easily be cast as Big Daddy in Cat On A Hot Tin Roof. We met his son, and a number of their crew (honestly, put a mast on their RV park and it would be the Pirates of Penzance - they had a friendly pirate-crew feel to them.) They were so nice and solicitous, and they helped load our gear up into an SUV and delivered us right to our hotel. Thanks Dan and Mike! Now that`s Hill Country hospitality. It sounded like they were about to fix up a batch of Bloody Mary`s when we left and boy, did they look good, despite my infirmity. I promised to send them a postcard from St. Augustine.
The good news was were were overnighting in a hotel, located fairly near the sprawling University of Texas at Austin campus. I fell asleep as soon as we checked in and woke up 3 hours later, feeling much better. The others were coming in, having battled the traffic and roads. Frank and I decided to rent a car from Enterprise, and the agent who came to the hotel to pick us up was a bubbly young woman named Lyndsay who was full of recommendations about what to see and do in Austin.
We followed her suggestion for dinner: The Oasis on Lake Travis. This was a very hilly, 20-minute drive northwest of downtown Austin, so we would never have done it on bikes. Part Disneyland, part cliff dwelling, The Oasis bills itself as The Sunset Capital of Texas. It has more decks overlooking the lake than I could count, and the views really were worth the drive. The place was packed and a live band, The Eggmen, was playing Beatles tunes on one of the decks above us as the sun went down and we dined. A monster thunderstorm was moving in as we finished our meal looking at the lighning coming closer. Our waitress allowed that The Oasis had just been rebuilt and reopened last Thanksgiving; it had burned to the ground following a lightning strike.
None of the staff seemed too concerned about the intensifying lightning and neither were we - it was a great show! It was the rain that cleared the decks, torrents of it that continued unabated for 40 minutes. We found another table in a covered area, ordered dessert, and continued to watch the light show and lashing rain. Finally it cleared and we headed for our real bed, glad we hadn`t been in a tent during that blast.
We`ve made it past our halfway point and are now hanging for a day or two in the capital of the Republic of Texas. We`re doing our part to keep Austin weird. Now that the dry winds, sparse landscape and deserted towns are behind us we`re worried about sharing the road and watching the skies for rain. The land is green and rivers actually have water in them. We promise to tell ya`ll how we got here but in the mean time here`s another group activity I put together over dinner last night. The question is: How is this different from a vacation?
11. The salad bar only serves peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
10. We`re often up at 5 and are frequently on the road by 7.
9. We cook for ourselves, do our own laundry and get our own coffee.
8. The seats are much smaller than coach class.
7. Unlike the TSA, the Border Patrol will let you carry more than 2 ounces of water.
6. There`s no room service or maids in state campgrounds or RV parks.
5. In addition to being a mechanic, our guide is weatherman, trainer, comedian, and amateur psychologist/chaplain.
4. We drink the water, sweat most of it out and earn our beer.
3. Our "room" is a 7 x 4 tent and we`ve been sleeping in it for WEEKS.
2. Nightlife consists of snoring, sleeping, fending off javalinas and keeping raccoons out of our raisins.
1. Our day-time, down-time comes just after a long up-hill.
We awoke in our Austin hotel to a secere weather warning - hail, rain and 60 mph winds were pointed right at us and would follow our planned route to Bastrop. Getting over all the creek crossings between A and B could prove interesting.
But we`ll never know. Our leader, Andy, made the call to stay in Austin an extra day, using the spare layover day we had "banked" by skipping through El Paso. People peeled off to see the museums, go to the bike shop, or just relax. Frank and I did some computer work at Kinkos and visited a famous (but very mediocre!) Tex-Mex restaurant called Chuy`s for a late lunch.
A wine and cheese party sprung up in Dee and Shirl`s room that lasted all day. We all signed a postcard for our colleague who had to abandon the ride back in Fort Hancock. Everyone made the most of their downtime and our legs got some additional rest.
Under a cool bright sky, we left Austin on what seemed like a whole new bike trip. Everyone was rested and it was the beginning of our last week in Texas: the Louisiana border is in the crosshairs now.
The countryside is quite green now and we rode 2 easy days of less than 50 miles each on Monday and Tuesday. Our first stop was Buescher State Park which is densely wooded, dripping with Spanish moss, quiet and lovely. We met up there with a couple from Wisconsin who are cycling the Southern Tier on their own. They are also Birkie skiers! En route, Frank and I stopped in the old town part of Bastrop for big juicy cheeseburgers at a little cafe named Gracie Miller`s - yum!
We chatted with the owner of Gracie Millers, who explained that the cafe was named after her grandmother. She asked us where we were going on our bikes, and when she heard the reply, she buried her head in her hands and said, "Oh sh*t."
Tuesday morning was nippy, with temps in the low 40s making it a challenge to get out of the tent. It turned into a beautiful day for a 48 mile ride, again through an agricultural region of small towns and farms with German names on the mailboxes. The area around tiny Round Top is a mecca for antique dealers on weekends but not much antiquing was happening on a Tuesday.
We camped at the Dixieland RV Park in Carmine, where the lovely Dixie herself gave us a warm welcome to her grassy and immaculate park. She allowed us access to the Rec Room, complete with stove and fridge, so cooking dinner was a breeze. Frank says it was like sleeping on a golf course.
Shirl and Matt got to shoot a .22 pistol - quite a novelty for the Brits.
We are all marveling that tomorrow is the last day of April and wondering where the month went.
Breakfast in Burton was a great way to start the day. Since Shirl and I had been so economical in our role of cooks for dinner last night (Coconut Chicken Curry for 16 people for $65, including dessert), leader and budgetmeister Andy suggested breakfast using group funds. The little historic cafe in nearby Burton is known for pancakes and pies, so we all met there at 9 am.
The building dates to 1937 and has been a store/cafe/community gathering place since then. Indoor plumbing was installed in 1984. The screen door swung open many times while we were there, as local folks came in for their coffee and breakfasts.
Boone, a rancher sitting next to us, struck up a conversation with Frank about retirement. Our group erupted in a chorus of Happy Birthday to celebrate Doug`s 51st, and our waitress brought him a slice of homemade buttermilk pie with a candle. We all shared a taste of it.
Shirl inquired of our waitress if she knew of someplace along our route or in Navasota where she might get a haircut. Shirl was surprised to hear the waitress get on the phone to check into it, describing the situation as an "emergency". We didn`t think Shirl`s hair looked that bad, either.
We meandered back country roads blanketed with wildflowers in this historic area of Texas on this short 40-something mile day. At about the midway point, the Leukemeyer Store (est 1939) in Independence was a natural rest stop.
The store had a cafe out back showing Westerns on a big screen to the lunch crowd. The resident dog snoozed out front and begged scraps from us all. A couple of representatives of Blue Bonnet Water (a company supplying water to 14 rural counties of Texas) were taking photos for their magazine and spent some time interviewing Tom about our trip.
We were told that Washington County had the greatest number of Lutheran churches per capita if any of the 400+ counties in Texas, and I believe it. There seemed to be one at every crossroads. It seems the German settlers fled religious persecution and when they settled in Texas, they were determined to worship as they pleased.
We crossed the Brazos River to reach our camping destination of the municipal park in Navasota. Our camping field bordered the airport, which had a windsock designed to be fully extended at 30 mph. And it was. In Navasota, the wind was blowing steadily at that speed, and gusting higher, as we all set up our tents and did our best to prepare and cook dinner while planes did touch-and-goes on the adjacent runway.
Chopped vegetables were literally flying off the picnic table if left unattended. I wish I had a video of us - there was absolutely no shelter from the wind and we were all trying to simultaneously grill hamburgers, put fixins on them and keep everything from getting airborne before it reached our mouths. Frank says it was like "Iron Chef" meets "Myth Busters". I`m not sure what he means by that.
We did manage to serve up a beautiful sheet cake for Doug`s birthday, which Matt had brought from town. Needless to say, there was no candle. I relinquished my title of Queen of the Hill Country and we christened Doug King of the Thicket, as we are headed through an area of the state called The Big Thicket.
Everyone bedded down in the wind, which blew all night without much diminution.
We`re not here yet, but we`re gettin` there. Normally the route includes a ferry ride across the Mississippi. Local word is the ferry`s not operating. This just in from the US weather service.
1026 am cdt wed apr 30 2008 the flood warning continues for the mississippi river at red river landing. * until further notice, or until the warning is cancelled. * at 7:00 am wednesday the stage was 60.0 feet. * moderate flooding is occurring and moderate flooding is forecast. * flood stage is 48.0 feet. * forecast, the river will continue to fall over the next few days. * impact, at 59.0 feet, the east bank levee will be topped and the prison farm land between the two levees will be inundated. angola landing will be under water closing the ferry there. all river islands along the reach from red river landing to baton rouge will remain inundated with recreational camps and river bottom farm land under water ..
... and so on
Today was a pretty long haul (70+ miles) to Silsbee, TX. Happily, Honey Island appeared at a crucial point - not much more than a combination gas station/cafe - but they had my own personal energy food: cheeseburgers.
Many cyclists develop nutritional preferences that work for them. Nothing gives me an afternoon turbo charge like a big, juicy cheeseburger and a few french fries, accompanied by a Diet Coke so I don`t get fat. Honey Island fit the bill for me and I pedaled on happily, able to ignore the logging trucks whizzing past and concentrate on my riding.
Tina and Ron were our most gracious hosts at the Red Cloud RV Park, a very nice place where he had a grassy area and gazebo for our group to use. Overnight we had our first rain and lightning of the trip, but not much of either.
May 3 was only a 55-mile day and we goofed around accordingly. Frank, Dave, Nick, Andy and I hung out at a Burger King (first fast food place Frank and I had stopped into on this trip) to plot an alternative way to cross the Mississippi River (more about this another day), and stopped again in Kirbyville with the same cast of characters at Jenny`s Fried Chicken to eat again. Frank broke a spoke but fixed it without too much ado.
I changed front flats twice in a gas station in Bon Wier (the first was a spontaneous blowout due to a spoke, the second was a result of my being hasty in repairing the first). Shortly thereafter we crossed the state line, leaving Texas at last and entering Louisiana.
We`d be spending 2 nights in Merryville LA as guests of the Historical Society and Museum there. And what hospitality they showed us!
A woman named Sandra (beautician by trade and former Justice of the Peace in a nearby Parish) was giving haircuts on the front porch of the museum to whoever wanted one. She tackled Frank`s mane with aplomb and got him looking almost civilized. She indicated that since the Moon was waning, not waxing, that there was some hope that the haircut would hold for awhile, but she seemd almost convinced that it was growing more as she was cutting it.
Another Historical Society leader, Linda, had a cadre of helpers who brought us a fabulous meal (including crawfish casserole) and served it up inside the museum. They had even stocked a fridge with cold sodas and water, and provided a cooler and ice for the beer we purchased.
A weather front had reduced the temperature and humidity, so we all slept well on the grassy museum lawn.
The next morning, the crew of angels reappeared and cooked us a pancake breakfast! It was great fun to hang out and chat with them afterwards - what a friendly group of folks. The melody of their Cajun accents was pleasing to the ear as was their sense of humor.
Then we all whiled away our layover day. We did bike maintenance, read the Sunday paper out of Lake Charles, played cards and plotted the Adventure Cycling route onto state highway maps. Dave and Dick encouraged the uninitiated to try out their recumbent cycles, and most did very well on their first attempt (Frank was a natural at it - do I see a recumbent in our future?)
The angels made dinner appear. Just before dinner, a lone cyclist - an 80-year-old fellow from Orlando, arrived and joined in. His name is David, and he is cycling westward toward San Diego on his own.
"Eileen, I wonder how long it would take us to bike from Denver to Chicago and what route we should take?"
Ok it was the end of 60 or so mile day, I was a mildly parched and a bit delirious from the heat...
11. All of the folks we`re ridin` with take a hot shower with soap at the end of every day.
10. Most every river can easily be crossed and all have bridges.
09. If you break a spoke you don`t have to find a forest, fell a tree and whittle one out.
08. Asphalt, and concrete are in wide use, it is usually already in place and fairly smooth.
07. Coleman stoves don`t require gathering a pile of kindling and can be lit easily, if not explosively.
06. Cold drinks and cold beer are readily available. We don`t carry hardtack, salted meat and end our daily ride with a lukewarm whiskey in some dusty, honky-tonk saloon full of sweaty strangers carrying concealed weapons.
05. The only hunting we have to do is to familiarize ourselves with the aisles and brands in a new grocery.
04. Flash floods, hurricanes and tornados shoudn`t surprise us, I can download current weather satellite image to my Blackberry.
03. The only ornery animals we encounter are domestic and are behind a fence or on a leash. I`m not making this up, a feral chihuahua chased me down the road for 50 yards or so back in Texas.Yip, yip, yipee, aye, oh, kai, yea!
02. If our bikes break down, we don`t have to water `em, feed `em, find a vet, or worse - shoot `em.
01. Natives everywhere seem friendly and hospitable not fierce or fearsome.
00. Can anything you do while prancing around in padded Spandex, really be called "rough"?
Beware of Doug
We stayed May 9 at the Hyde Park Campground in Easleyville. A number of us took advantage of the swimmin` hole to cool off after a hot 60+ miles of riding.
May 10 we were only about 5 miles down Hwy 38 towards Bogalusa when 3 dogs ran out onto the road, right into Doug`s front wheel. He hit the biggest of them, a labrador, and went over the handle bars, going down hard to the pavement.
Frank and I came upon him shortly afterwards. He was banged up and bleeding, but OK. His front wheel was pretzeled. We started working on his wounds as Andy pedaled up with Nick and Dave the they all got to work on salvaging the wheel. The nearest bike shop was back in Baton Rouge, 60 miles behind us.
The people who owned the dogs never came out to check on what their unrestrained pets had done! We were practically in their driveway with all our activity, but they shooed their dogs inside and laid low behind closed drapes. We wanted to leave the bloody baby wipes in the mailbox there at 1904 Hwy 38, but didn`t. What jerks. We took comfort in the fact that Doug had walloped the dog pretty hard. Beware of Doug, the Dogslayer!
Andy patiently worked on the wheel, magically getting it to a point where it could be ridden. The rest of us took Doug`s front panniers on our bikes to help unweight his bike, and after about an hour we were underway.
A few miles later we were in a small town called Tangipahoa. A church group had fired up a charcoal grill and was selling chicken lunch, so we stopped there to eat and let Doug collect himself. The food was delicious and the church folks very curious about these white folks on bikes who had ridden into their midst. We ate every bite they put on our styro plates.
One young man mentioned that two of his brothers had been drafted out of McNeese State U by NFL teams - one this year by the Raiders. Big stuff for any small town!
The rest of the day was very pleasant and uneventful riding. Doug was hurting but powered through it, and the wheel held up for further tinkering in camp at Willa Villa in Bogalusa. All in all we were very lucky - Doug could easily have broken a wrist or collarbone and been unable to finish the Southern Tier with us.
Tomorrow will mark a week in Louisiana - and we have just one more day here before we head into Mississippi.
No one in our group has perfected the musical Cajun accent, or accumulated any of the "Boudreau and Thibodeau" jokes (think Kerryman jokes, or Sven and Ole, etc). But we continue to slip into our best attempts at both the accent and the jokes. Dave`s closest thing is a "Ladies Man" skit from SNL. Frank calls everyone Boudreau (and is also experimenting with a skin ointment called Boudreaux Butt Paste - I am not kidding).
Nick has been on a boudin quest (boudin is Cajun sausage that is delicious) and he buys it whenever he sees it for sale. We are sampling the local specialties - red beans and rice, seafood gumbo, etc.
Other Louisiana notes:
The Louisiana State University (LSU) Tigers are universally popular and their signature yellow and purple colors appear on decorative banners, bumper stickers, Croc shoes and even port-a-johns. Evidently they are the only big-time college team in the state so everyone supports them. All these LSU fans can`t possibly be alumni.
Logging is a huge industry here. Today some loggers invited Frank, Doug and me to get a closer look at their operation just off the road we were on. It was very interesting and they welcomed our questions.
We crossed the Mississippi River this morning at 6:30 with a police escort over the Hwy 190 Bridge at Port Allen/West Baton Rouge. Both a motocycle cop and a car accompanied us to give us safe passage. This was good because that bridge was dangerous - very busy traffic and no shoulder.
When in Washington LA, dine and stay at the Steamboat Warehouse Restaurant and Cottages. Great food and digs and the place is on the National Register of Historic Places.
The people we are meeting along the way are very friendly and outgoing. Whenever we stop anywhere, folks approach us with questions and they seem genuinely interested, and usually amazed, at what we`re up to.
One associates armadillos with Texas. But we have seen `way more of them in Louisiana (all roadkill but armadillos nevertheless). There are also a lot of snakes trying unsuccessfully to cross roads here.
Yesterday, one of the group sighed that it would be great if we could share each others tunes stored among the few iPods. Today Dave rode along behind me and struck out in song, reciting the full words to this earworm that had been floating around in fragments in my head for the past couple days. It occured to me that we were downloading this one from memory the old fashioned way of sharing and needn`t worry about a copyright violation.
Good-bye Joe, me gotta go, me oh my oh Me gotta go pole the pirogue down the bayou My Yvonne, the sweetest one, me oh my oh Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou
(Chorus) Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file` gumbo `Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou
Thibodeaux, Fontainenot, the place is buzzin’ Kinfolk come to see Yvonne by the dozen Dress in style and go hog wild, me oh my oh Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou
(Chorus) Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file` gumbo `Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou
Settle down, far from town, get me a pirogue And I’ll catch all the fish in the bayou Swap my mon to buy Yvonne what she need-o Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou
(Chorus) Jambalaya and a crawfish pie and file` gumbo `Cause tonight I’m gonna see my ma cher amio Pick guitar, fill fruit jar and be gay-o Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun on the bayou.
We`re spending a couple days wandering on the back roads with no numbers, just names, in the lil bit o` Mississippi that dips down the the Gulf. I`ve always thought of the outlines of Mississippi and Alabama as Easter Island looking profiles facing East and West.
So we`re in the neck. It`s only few counties wide. The US highways we cross all have familiar numbers, 55, 53, 49. Near as I can tell if you own property, you get a road named after you. We passed "Joe and Cheryl Rd" which was really a long driveway to a house.another was named "Go Go". One of our key turns was on Archey Wheat Rd. The two folks in front of me passed the bumpy looking lane to the left. Something in the weeds caught my eye as I went by. It was a stop sign with the street name at the top. I dug in out of the weeds and placed it on the road surface for the folks following. Eventually the folks in front figured it out and rejoined later in the day.
The next thrill will be crossing the Gordon Parsons Bridge across Mobile Bay. It`s about 10 miles long. It`s concrete and has wide shoulders. We won`t need a police escort.
We spent just 2 days riding across the part of Mississippi covered by the Southern Tier route.
Immediately out of Bogalusa we crossed the Pearl River and left Louisiana. We rode a series of back roads (all named after the people who live on them, evidently - Sam Smith Rd, Archie Wheat Rd, Homer Ladner Rd, etc). We encountered a couple of locals out and about on their mule-drawn cart, outfitted with velour car seats and stocked with a cooler of brews.
We stayed at Perkinston and rode on the next day to Hurley. We camped May 12 on the shores of the little lake at the Magnolia Springs Assembly of God Church. It was a cross between a summer camp and a school campus, complete with a dock and raft on the water. They allowed us to camp around a big gazebo and use it to cook and convene our group. It was a very pretty spot.
Hit the Beach!
The herd was restless to get going this morning. Why? Because our destination is Gulf Shores, AL - a layover stop at the beach.
We knew it would be a long-ish day - 75 miles or so with headwinds predicted for at least part of our journey. Our reward would be to check into a LaQuinta Inn for two nights of R&R.
The day`s ride took us steadily toward the Gulf of Mexico. Outside Bayou La Batre, where commercial shrimp boats moor, I had the following exchange with a couple of young men:
Them: "Where you riding?"
Me: "San Diego to St. Augustine."
Them: (gesturing to my bike) "On THAT??"
The wind was really whipping across Mobile Bay as we crossed over a causeway bridge to Dauphin Island. There we caught a ferry over to Fort Morgan AL. Once there, a flat 21-mile cruise brought us to Gulf Shores.
What a change in terrain! After getting off the ferry, we were in a land of sand and dune grass. Hurricane Katrina had punished this area, killing all the pine trees with salt water inundation. Beach houses on stilts along the way had been rebuilt since the hurricane and many of them sppeared to be for sale.
Frank and I caught the 2 pm ferry with Dick, Tom, Steve and Doug. Frank pulled this group into the La Quinta before 5 pm. Tomorrow`s weather report called for a beach day!
This area is known as the Redneck Riviera. Frank and I headed for the beach after he and Dave visited the Hippie Store to buy retro items. The beach was gorgeous - white sand and big waves. We had lunch at a beachfront place called The Hangout which had only recently reopened after being rebuilt after Hurricane Katrina.
The day flew by, as layover days seem to do. Everyone had spent the day in low key ways, at the beach or just hanging out at the hotel. I had developed a sore throat and sinus congestion (Herb had the same thing) so was happy not to do too much all day long.
Maybe it was the wind, the heat, the long bridge, the ferry schedule, or group fatigue, but I ended up as the lead dog pulling a group the final 20 miles into Gulf Shores, AL. There`s only one road down the center of the penninsula so navigating was pretty easy. I didn`t look at my map. As we rounded a curve to enter town a Jeep slowed to pace me. There were two young men inside, thier surfboards tucked in back behind them. They driver leaned forward an yelled, "Where you headed to?". "St. Augustine!" I shouted back. "Whooa!" They both shouted. "Where`d you come from?" The passenger asked. " San Diego," I replied" "AWESOME!!!" They shouted and as the pulled away the passeneger made some sort of signal with his fingers that looked like the Texas hook `em horns out the window. Since we`re in Alabama I`ll ask Dave to interpret.
I smiled thinking that maybe somewhere tonight some young folks might also have a serious, sober conversation about crossing the continent on their bicycles. "We should do that too!" They might not start for a few years, after they too have time. I wonder what they`ll see along the way. Hope there will still be enough mom n` pop grocery stores to keep them hydrated.
Heavy Weather
We left Gulf Shores with a threat of severe thunderstorms, and they caught up to us in Pensacola. Luckily most of us managed to hole up in a Dairy Queen overlooking Escambia Bay and watch the lightning and pounding rain pass by.
We planned to stay one night in Milton then move on to DeFuniak Springs for a two-night stay. But the scary weather returned as we prepared to depart Milton in the morning. The lightning was intense for hours, and the rain never let up til 3 pm. So we elected to stay over in Milton since the owner of the Cedar Pines Park and Campground was kind enough to let us hang out in part of his home for the day. We played cards and Monopoly and watched a DVD of "O Brother Where Art Thou" to pass the rainy day
We played Monopoly ate bad food and watched "O` Brother Where Art Thou?" instead of riding in the hard rain in Milton, FL. It`s a great movie, based on the Odysey, set in the South with a fantastic but persistent soundtrack. This song, the last one featured in the movie, got stuck on play for most of my remaing days here...
My latest sun is sinking fast, My race is nearly run,
My strongest trials now have passed, My triumph is begun.
Chorus:
Oh, come, angel band, Come and around me, stand,
Oh, bear me away on your snow-white wings To my immortal home,
I know I`m nearing holy ranks Of friends and kindred dear. I brush the dew of Jordan`s banks The crossing must be near
Chorus:
I`ve almost gained my heav`nly home My spirit loudly sings
The holy ones behold they come I hear the noise of wings
Chorus:
Oh, bear my longing heart to Him Who bled and died for me,
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin And brings me victory.
Chorus:
Oh, come, angel band, Come and around me, stand,
Oh, bear me away on your snow-white wings To my immortal home,
18. Cajun Country is not France even though folks there spice thier English in a vaguely similar manner. .
17. We only share ibuphophin - this does not improve our performance. It only tempers our whining.
16. We toast the completion of nearly each day, not with champagne but a beer or cola or more cold water.
15. We don`t really "attack" hills, we just shift our gears, adjust our butts and struggle to get over `em.
14. If our jerseys are clean, it`s because we washed `em ourselves.
13. Most folks we encounter are supportive but are clearly puzzled why we`re doing this.
12. Instead of 23 Stages, there are only 7 stages including: Denial, Anger, Acceptance ...
11. The police car following is not there to escort us - and just might issue a citation if we fail to come to a complete stop.
10. Drivers honking their horns and gesturing are not cheering us on. They want us out of thier lane.
9. Some riders have personal trailers but they tow them loaded with all their gear, behind thier bikes.
8. Our training table is a picnic table and there are only peanut butter and jelly sandwiches available.
7. Cyclists in le Tour often weigh less than their bikes.
6. Occasionally we encounter riders going in the opposite direction.
5. Reining royalty participates in the ride and includes: The King of the Desert, The Queen of the Hill Country, The King of the Thicket, The King of the Swamp, the Queen of the Bayou and the Grand Emperor of the Coast.
4. We fix our own flats, oil our own chains, tune our own gears, true our own wheels, replace our own spokes, or find a bike shop or tour guide that knows how.
3. There`s not a yellow jersey but a pink blouse that someone found in a second hand shop in Austin.
2. The youngest and fastest graciously accepted more group gear to carry. There was certainly no competition, general cooperation, only occasional drama but no prima donas.
1. There`s no podium at the end; everyone who finishes, wins.
Tonight we are hold up in a motel in High Springs, FL. The trip has taken it`s toll on our bikes and bodies. We both have some sort of post nasal icky thing that`s made the rounds with the group. We were out in the rain yesterday for an hour or so. It wasn`t a cold rain but camping another night in a wet tent seemed less than thrilling.
I also have a few itchy ouchy insect bumps all over since I pulled off to fiddle with my back tire twice and ended up aggravating two different distant colonies of fire ants. One ornery fella managed to hide out under my glove and sank his jaw into me more than 2 miles from his home.
I`m doing another final purge of stuff I really don`t need since I snapped a spoke on another new 32 spoke rear wheel I picked up in Tallahasse. I guess I`m taking the phrase -" breaking it in" a bit too literally. My own weight is down 15 lbs. since we started.
The good news is we`re basically happy but sortta sad this whole thing is rolling to an end. Briefly, I thought I could smell the ocean yesterday.
Here`s what`s left:
Hawthorne FL 50 mi Fri (today)
East Palatka FL 41.5 mi Sat
St. Augustine FL 37.5 mi Sun
Relatively light flat days that include some spinning along a bike path for a few miles near Gainsville. It`ll be delightful as long as nothing breaks down and we get in before the rain shower.
Still too early for champagne but we`re close.
Have a great Memorial Day weekend!
The final days rides and new pics will be posted witiin 24 hours. I promise. Thanks for coming along and all the encouraging words. Herb has his latest pics up already: http://hlee-roadletters.blogspot.com/
The last couple days were a hoot. Our route included a 20 mile cruise along a rails-to-trails in Gainsville. The group moteled in Palatka and strolled the midway at the Blue Crab Fest.
The last ride was a delight - a short 35 mile day on scenic, lightly traveled backroads along the water. Dave and Christina debuted a duet with a few verses of "This Land Is Your Land". We passed farm folks flinging cantelopes and stopped and refilled at a crossroads called MoleAsses Junction. We reached St Augustine just after Noon. Steve broke out an official Southern Tier jersey he`d carried all the way at the bottom of his back just for this day.
We dropped our gear at "The Pirate" a hospitable, not hostile, hostel in the heart of the old city. The circus formed up one more time for a last fling, filing in traffic over a draw bridge and out a couple miles to the beach.
Eileen and I hiked our bikes over the soft sand and into the warm shallow salt water. ( We`ll clean `em when we get home. ) We touched the front wheels of our bikes together, smiled and posed for Sherl who had our camera, sharing what she`d call, "a smoochy moment." I snuck a bottle of champagne onto the beach and popped the cork. It was warm but tasty.
The tribe held on as folks dropped out and were picked up by family or friends. We`d pretty much eaten, slept, rode, and sweated together for the past 60 days. Each in their own way kept it all together and helped each other to get here. Sherl`s excellent poem at our Victory Dinner was a highlight. Nick offered his 2 cents to anyone who asked for it.
Andy, the Enableator, disaapeared quietly and headed off to a new home he`d yet to see in Chicago. He`ll be heading farther North in a few days to help a a group of fewer folks, form up, feed themselves find their way and cooperate with minimum commotion pedaling from Montana to Alaska.
We said good bye many times and there were some hugs, many smiles and even a few tears. We gathered the remains for a couple more dinners cooked up by competent chefs, with limitless ingredients and delivered with smiles by hard working waiters.
As we were forming up in the hallway for dinner a young, lean cyclist hefted his bike up the stairs. Brian from NC speaks with the soft mildly Southern accent, of the Mid Atlantic. Young confident, strong. He could have been from the future or from our own pasts. We invited him to join us. He`s on his way South past the Capes and Beaches to Key West, 90 miles from Havana. His buddy from Indiana, "somewhere near Chicago" had dropped out. His friend found camping too creepy. Brian was cheerful about it and seemed happy to continue solo.
He opted to join us and we all relived some moments and replayed the highlights for Brian, trying to communicate despite sweet voiced live music that was too loud. It was good practice trying to distill moments and summarize. in an interesting manner.
The last of the tribal elements dissolved as we rejoined the 21st Century in this Ancient City full of tourists out for a 3 day weekend. Truly, we never thought we were invincible but the many folks in small towns and stops along the way helped sustain the myth that we were something special. That feeling helped get us here too. Maybe we aren`t so special but we are TransContinental Cyclists now. For our efforts we`re all a few pounds lighter, just a bit leaner; and if not wiser, also a bit more flexible. We don`t really look any younger either but we got back in touch with our youth and have pretty good though oddly lined tans.
On the way to the airport, we rented a soccer mom mini van , hopped up on I-95. It all became a 65 mph blurr again. Thought I saw the shadow of a star spangled recumbent cyclist on the shoulder along I-10
We boxed up the bikes at Amtrack in Javksonville. Nick couldn`t bust one of his pedals off and broke and allen wrench to prove it.
At the airport, TSA took a brief, passing interest in the dense metal of my bicycle multitool. He examined it and was relieved to see no sharp blades; only hexes, spoke and a chain wrench. He congratulated me on the trip when I over explained the reason I was carrying it in my front pack that now looks more like a purse.
Chatty Captain. 509 mph. 6 miles high 48 degrees outside. Headed Northwest. I always prefer a window seat. 3 of the 13 original colonies passed under wing. The patchwork quilt of early property lines delineate borders of green and brown, tan land and blue water. Spring colors becoming summer. Farther west Jefferson`s grid reappears. The flight attendant served us warmed pecans in a dish along with cold Heineken.
Reaching cruising altitiude and speed. Two F-18`s buzzed to the right and up off our wing headed somewhere fast. More clouds. Less land, more like a blue mist below. Reviewing digital pictures, our life since Texas flashes before us. We smile and toast "getting there".
We drop through some clouds near the South Shore of Lake Michigan. Valparaiso was directly below. Michigan City was off the wingtip. The shore of Lake Michigan curved up and off the the left and disappeared in the distance. There must be some scenic, lightly travelled, good surface, roads down there.