Day Forty-One
This morning came early and often. At 1:30 am, again at 3:00, again at 4:30 and I just got up at 5:30 because I just wasn't going to sleep any more. I was so ready to get on the road.
I had two full days in New Orleans of not riding my bike. I saw plenty of the city and got a sense for why people love New Orleans so much. It's the first city I've been to since Los Angeles that has its own unique, endemic culture, that copies nobody. It is a completely original place. I imagine I will spend months here in the future.
I rested a lot, ate a lot, and wrote Thinking Blog posts a lot. You can't see me resting or eating, but you can read my posts. My Ride Blogs are about what I am doing and my responses to what I am experiencing on this ride. The Thinking Blog is where I try to share the underlying form, the ideas and mental frameworks, that I use or find apply to what I experience. The Ride Blog is about what happens and the Thinking Blog is about why and how it happens. That's the idea, anyway. I'm sure there is some bleed between the two.
The timing of my planned rest days in New Orleans was fortuitous because the heat index was 104 degrees on Thursday and 98 on Friday—too hot to ride. I would have had to not ride in these temperatures even if I were not in New Orleans for my break, so the coincidence saved me two days of hanging around somewhere not nearly as interesting.
I was itching to get back on the bike by the time I got to bed last night. Sleep was intermittent, but I didn't feel sleep deprived all day. I took photos and videos of the transition from city to country. The French Quarter was just waking up as I rode through it. Garbage trucks, delivery vans, shops not quite opening but breakfast serving the early risers like me, and those who didn't quite make it to bed anytime Friday night or Saturday morning. I photographed several ghost bikes as I left New Orleans. Ghost bikes are painted white and placed where a cyclist was killed. I saw so many, I stopped taking their pictures. High rises to historical districts to small business districts to neighborhoods of modest houses, under the freeway, past the strip malls east of the city and finally into the wildlife refuge that borders the city on its eastern flank.
East of New Orleans, US 90 was closed due to a bridge being hit by a boat, and the state, having no money to repair it in this budget cycle, just closed the road. The alternates are I-10, from which cyclists are prohibited (unlike in Texas and New Mexico), and US 11. I took US 11 to Slidell, Louisiana, which is a thriving, interesting town, then turned south towards White Kitchen to rejoin US 90. Near Slidell I crossed paths with Malcolm, a Kiwi on a 6-month ride to pretty much wherever he wants to go. He rode from San Diego to St. Augustine, FL, and was now back tracking to New Orleans, where he will eventually catch a flight to Lisbon, Portugal, to continue his journey riding around the Iberian Peninsula. Interesting, tough guy, and I have another host in New Zealand when I get there.
At White Kitchen, I found that US 90 was still closed, all the way to the Mississippi border, about 3.5 miles, with 5 bridges. I bobbed and weaved the bike around the traffic barriers and "Road Closed" signs and rode onto the closed highway, to see how far I could get before I was stopped by an authority, or a bridge that was truly uspassable.
I met neither a denying authority nor an unpassable bridge. The highway was closed to car and truck traffic as a precaution because a bridge had been weakened by a boat colliding with it, but the span was not compromised. A bike and rider could safely use the road and bridges. Besides, once the State of Louisiana barricaded the road to Mississippi, there was no way that Louisiana could patrol the roads except by going the long way to Mississippi and cutting back onto the closed highway. Nobody in Louisiana cares enough to put in that effort, and nobody in Mississippi cares at all. It was simply a beautiful, traffic-free ride to the Mississippi border.
Western Mississippi is quiet, green and clean, with great roads. I made good time and felt great. As the day wore on my mileage goal for the day continued to grow. At first I was looking at a 76-mile day, to Pass Christian more maybe a bit further. Then I was thinking Gulfport, then Biloxi, and finally, I knew I could stretch it to Ocean Springs, making today a 103+ mile day. From Pass Christian east, the highway runs right along the Gulf Coast beach. It's a clear and lovely Saturday in May, so the place was lively with weekend visitors and beach goers. Traffic was lively too. There is a paved path running next to the highway, for casual cyclists and walkers. And there is the 3 feet to the left of the fog line on the right lane of the highway, to which a cyclist has the full right of use. I took my fog line, riding steady and straight. Some cars passed in the lane, others changed to the left lane and changed back. More than a few honked and a couple cat-called. These noise-makers are inevitably young males who struggle reading English, so they only seem to understand traffic laws through verbal tradition, bitching about bikes and such to each other. Their yammering never leads to action, they complain but don't back it up with actual confrontation or continuing intimidation, so I just keep riding. They'll grow up, wise up, and be replaced by then next wave of young, agressive, aggrieved male drivers. It's inevitable, but nothing more than a nuisance.
The Gulf Coast of Mississippi is very pretty, and hopping. It's the go-to place in the region to get away and have some relaxing fun for people from all over the South. Gulfport's activities are beach related. Biloxi is home to several very large and pretentious casino resorts. Fun for all comers. The bridge over Biloxi Bay brought me to Ocean Springs, where I would spend the night in a cheap highway motel. Ocean Springs is charming, with a happy, mellower vibe, nice neighborhoods, good restaurants and a lush urban forest.
I pulled into my Motel 6 at 103. 72 miles ridden today. A good day. The weather was perfect for riding and I felt strong and endurant. So I just laid down the miles. This Motel 6 is an extended stay version of the chain. Through my open motel room, a man called in, "when did you get here?" His name is Pat and he lives at the motel, like a lot of people on the property. Apparently, this Motel 6 serves as the city's or the county's transitional housing facility. Everyone seemed to know each other. I may be the only one-night visitor in the whole building, something of a curiosity to the neighborhood.
Tomorrow I ride to Mobile, AL, to stay with Ranell and Cherish Franklin. You'll hear about it all tomorrow night. I've finished dinner, a steak salad (greens!) at Woody's Roadhouse. Time for a good stretch, some torture on my new, compact foam roller, and bed.
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.
