Day Thirty-Four
Today began much earlier than desired. As I mentioned, I was in a cheap, down-and-outer motel on the eastern outskirts of Liberty, Texas. Dinner had been whatever I was carrying in my panniers and a Budweiser from the local minimart.
Hoping for an early start this morning, I got to bed at a reasonable time, and was awoken by a loud, imploring young man outside my door, on his cell phone, explaining to whomever how it all went wrong, he was thrown out of his house by his girlfriend and was stuck in this motel, that he loved her SO much and was really sorry. Me too, buddy. Shut up. Which he eventually did. At 2:00 am I woke to hear an earnest, loud family meeting, trying to figure out what to do tomorrow about their flooded house. They were reasonable. No shouting or crying. But they were loud, in front of my door and it was 2:00 am. At 4:00 am, a man coughed, gagged, wretched and threw up, 4 times I think, before disappearing into the night.
So I wasn't up as early as I had hoped to be. There was no breakfast on this side of town so I decided to munch on what else I had in my panniers and get to breakfast 27 miles to the east, in China, Texas. The Diamond D Diner is right next to the Dollar General store in China. I got there at 11:02 and breakfast service concluded at 11:00. I ordered what turned out to be the worst chicken fried steak sandwich on Texas Toast that I have ever had, as I watched server scoop up and throw out all of the breakfast food in the breakfast buffet station.
On to Beaumont, for the best part of the day. And I'm not being facetious. For me and this trip, Beaumont, Texas, has loomed large as the last stop before heading into the section of the ride for which I had the least information, and felt the most foreign to me, the Texan Far East and Louisiana.
I was interesting in riding the Louisiana Gulf Coast, locally called "The Cajun Riviera", and not riding Adventure Cycling's standard Southern Tier route, which looked on the map at least to cover way too much ground, backing north and veering south as much as the bendy Mississippi River winds its way to the sea. I wasn't sure if all that northing and southing was necessary to get east.
But again, I couldn't find much beta on the subject. So I reasoned that I could just get to Beaumont and find a local bike shop with a knowledgeable staff who could help me understand this place a little better. In San Antonio, I started looking for the right shop in earnest, and found it: Bicycle Sports at 2770 I-10 Frontage Road. I give you the address because if you are ever within 500 miles of Beaumont, TX, you should stop in and say hi to these awesome people.
There I met Eric Bender, the shop owner, and Dayna (no last name on her card, and we only went by first names in the shop), Eric's do-it-all staffer. What clued me in that these were awesome people was their website, which has a whole section on "bike activism". Essentially, Eric is meeting with city leaders, organizing a cycling constituency, cajoling, badgering, imploring Beaumont to be a good bike city. His efforts are leading to Beaumont's first cycling master plan, bike lanes to striped, and cycling infrastructure to be added into all of Beaumont's street improvement and major maintenance projects.
Eric sees this as more than just for cyclists, but a blueprint for other marginalized parts of the citizenry to follow, to advocate for their inclusion into community planning and decision making. Eric has a sign in his shop that reads "Beaumont, Texas is a pre-civil rights community". I asked him if he believed that, and he said absolutely. Then I understood that I misunderstood him. It seemed like he might mean that he's in favor of that designation. But he's actually just stating it as a fact—and holding it right in front of the noses of people—that Beaumont has too many entrenched and powerful people who don't want this to be said in public, because the key to keeping marginalized people marginalized, whether they are cyclists, or racial minorities, or anybody else who is different, is to be sure that the city infrastructure reinforces the message that they are marginalized and have no power.
NOT having infrastructure for what Eric calls "Active Transportation" sends this important message that some people have power and they do intend to not share it. Eric and Dayna are taking this on. I encourage you to visit www.bicyclesports.com and see what's going on in pre-civil rights Beaumont. It's VERY encouraging. Oh, and Eric has also appropriated our national Interstate Highway sign to include a cyclist on it. As soon as he puts this on a cycling jersey, I'm buying one.
Back to my ride and Eric's advice for me: DO NOT ride the Gulf Coast this time of year. Mosquitos will attack, drink me dry and carry my carcass into the bayou to be eaten by alligators. The best time to ride it is in January. The second-best time is never. Then Eric mapped a route taking me through the heart of Cajun country, without a bunch of dodging and weaving, and getting me to New Orleans in a reasonable time without monster days of riding in the hot sun and humidity, and not on the freeway. Perfect. I now have a map where I used to have just a hole in a map.
From Beaumont I crossed Lake Charles on the I-10 bridge and followed a nice, quiet road to Vidor, Texas. Of course, on this road, I had to take a picture of a typical Texas greeting sign: "This property protected by God and Guns. Enter unwelcome & you will meet both!"
In Vidor, I cleaned up, did laundry, and finally got a good breakfast (for dinner) at the local Waffle House. I remapped all of my mileage and projected overnight stay locations for the next week, am writing a good amount, and will get to bed early. My first free breakfast at my motel will be at 6:15 am tomorrow . I'll carry it back to my room and pack it away for lunch. Then I'll head back down to the lobby, packed and suited up for the day's ride, and eat breakfast #2.
The last thing to note here is that I understand something about this part of the country that I didn't really grasp before: for the most part, camping is now off the agenda and my budget is totally blown by staying in motels more than I ever thought I would. I just can't hack it out there when the days are 90 degrees and 90% humidity, and the nights don't get below 75. I don't WANT to hack it, because in a month I will have to reacclimatize to our northern mountain and Puget Sound weather. I don't want to get used to this heat here, and then be freezing outside when I get home while climbing, rafting, sea kayaking and such.
On my previous bike ride through the South, I was here in February and March. It was cooler then. I didn't account for how by May, it's now already sweltering to the point where locals already avoid going outside. Imagine hearing someone say, "we have a pool in the backyard, but we never use it in summer because it's just too hot outside". I've heard this more than once. I thought that was just crazy talk. Now they look at me and say "you are doing WHAT on a bike?", and I understand their head-shaking amazement.
So, it's early onto the road each morning, then off by midafternoon, and some climate control on a regular basis so I don't melt and die just trying to finish the ride. If you want to do this ride on a budget (as I had hoped to do), start earlier in the spring. It may be cold in the West, but you can dress against that. It will be more tolerable if you get to the South earlier. That way you can avoid having to make the choice of melting yourself or your bank account.
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.
