Day Thirty-Five
Today was to be a straight forward grind-out-miles day, and it was. My alarm went off at 5:45 am, well before dawn. I had hand washed my cycling clothes last night and they weren't dry, which didn't matter a bit because today would be very wet. I made several trips down to the "free" motel breakfast enough to scarf two breakfasts and pocket some food for later in the day. It was light enough to ride a little past 7:00 am and I started my mileage app and saddled up at 7:23.
Wet indeed.
It had been raining hard through the night. I started riding in light rain but the radar showed big weather tracking my way. It hit with huge drops, lightening and thunder about 6-8 seconds after the flash, and to my left. The heart of the storm was tracking west to east and north of me. Surface winds were out of the Southeast and the high clouds were pushed by wind out of the west. No doubt the rain and lightning were products of two conflicting weather systems. Though I was quickly soaked to the skin, it was warm out and traffic was at it's Sunday pre-church low, that is, virtually no traffic.
In fact, through this rainstorm, and continuing into the early afternoon after the rain finally relented, this was by far the quietest riding day of the trip so far. It was a quiet road in Texas along the 20 miles from Vidor to the Louisiana state line, and stayed quiet until about 11:45, when (I presume this is why) churches started getting out and people began to move around the countryside.
From Vidor to Kinder was a straight, no turns 78 miles on Texas/Louisiana route 12, which soon became US 195. Almost no turns or traffic, just a beeline through the Louisiana forested countryside. I took few photos because it was all the same for nearly 100 miles, in a good way. I arrived in Kinder a bit after 3:00 pm, and decided to press on another 28 miles to Eunice, Louisiana. Even after the rain stopped, it didn't really heat up today, staying below 82 degrees. I won't see this low of a high temperature for a week or more, so it was a good day to ride further in distance, and further into the late-afternoon/ evening. Riding harder today in good weather would mean I can shorten my days in the heat later.
Three things to note today.
#1. Water levels are still high and rivers are blown out. These rains of the last week have inundated east Texas and west Louisiana, and the flood waters are expected to linger for many days.
#2. I'm seeing very little wildlife in the forests and swamps in the area, but I know it's there because of the volume and variety of roadkill. Opossums, armadillos, snakes, raccoons, cats, skunks, river otters, turtles, frogs, and some other animals I cannot identify are dead beside the road. So the forest and swamps must have all of these and more. Completely different fauna than I'm used to.
#3. A guns-out police incident unfolded just as I rode by, and it struck me as absurd. Two police cars, blue lights flashing, can towards me and at about 1/3 of a mile away, I car pulled over ahead of them, assuming I guess that it was being pulled over. The police zoomed by that motorist and about a 1/4 mile ahead, pulled into a long driveway leading to a double wide trailer. The first officer jumped out of her car and immediately drew her service pistol. There were a couple of unarmed people in the yard walking towards her and a couple of dogs barking at her. Was she demanding, at gunpoint, that the dogs cease barking? I don't think these dogs no these words in English. Was she shouting in English, or French: "Chien, arrête d'aboyer ou je tire!"? A third police car arrived. Here's what I thought was absurd: Commanding a dog to back off, at gunpoint. The people I saw were unarmed, but acted like they get guns pointed at them all the time, they were so nonchalant about it. Maybe there was a third person I couldn't see with a gun. But mostly, I was riding my bike in the line of fire of whomever the cop may or may not have been pointing her gun at, as was all the other traffic going by. Nobody seemed interested, or even noticed, that by passers like me were in the field of fire as this all was going on. Three police vehicles with officers, and nobody stopped traffic or protected the public. It was like all attention was on the gun, and nothing else, namely me, was of much interest or value. I just rode through and away from the scene, unseen by anyone in it.
I reached Kinder, looked at Kinder, and decided another 28 miles were in my legs, so I left Kinder. At about 6:35 pm, having ridden just over 103 miles, I pulled into Eunice, checked in, went to my room, and started my routine of mixing and guzzling my sports recovery drink, washing me, washing my riding clothes, getting my batteries charging, and calling Joan with the day's catch-up. Dinner was at the Chinese buffet across the street. Grandmother just grunted at me at the host station. Granddaughter was quite pleasant. Pretty cheap, pretty good, all I could eat.
Oh, another thing about Louisiana: gone is the Texan obsession with huge gates on their property driveways, and fences around every square inch of private property. Louisianans have unfenced front yards. Actually, fences are rare anywhere here.
This leads me to dogs. I had been warned that in Louisiana, dogs chase bicyclists. On the advice of more than one westbound rider, I got a small air horn. I have it at the ready in the side pocket of my cycling shorts. But if today was any indication, I won't use it much. When I rode in the South in 1981, dogs barked and gave chase, I mean really chased, as in close enough to take a chomp out of my leg. But today, most of the dogs who even noticed me just barked. Only a couple gave chase, and they were so fat and lumbering that they just quit before getting to the road edge of their yards, barking less, mostly just panting. Whatever is making people larger and heavier in the South than they were 40+ years ago, is making their dogs larger and heavier too. So far, the dogs have been too fat to chase me for long, which is kind of disappointing, because I like a good dog chase. I've never been caught by a dog. Hopefully I get a chance to use my air horn tomorrow. I heard the dogs really don't like them and the shrill sound just stops even the most dedicated chasers in their tracks.
I'm now 28 miles ahead of where I thought I would be today, when I planned my ride into New Orleans.
This gives me the advantage of shortening the mileage of the next few days so I can be off the road and out of the heat by midafternoon instead of late afternoon/early evening. I may yet not melt.
I’d love to hear from you. Donate to the ride and send along your words of encouragement and tell me why getting kids outside matters to you.
