Now that I'm home and I've rested some, I've had a chance to contemplate my bicycling adventure in its entire context. What follows are some thoughts, feelings, and observations about the whole trip, and about what's ahead for me. This is going to be a long post. Read what you want. But remember, this is my journal. It's ultimately for me. I'm trying to memorialize what's happening so that later in life I can read back over it and help myself to remember what happened, and what was going on in my head at the time. I'm not keeping a separate, private journal, so it's all here -- well, most of it; after all, some of what happens on the road, stays on the road --like in Vegas, only different.
I know better than anyone that my ultimate goal was to ride my trike from Pensacola to San Diego. I didn't make it. Oh, well. But please don't say to me, "Well, at least you tried." I did more than try. I pedalled a bicycle over EIGHT HUNDRED (that's eight-zero-zero) miles under some very, very difficult conditions. That's a long way. I spent 20 days on the road. I traveled in or through five states: Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas. Wow.
There was a time (several times, in fact) while I was on the road, when I was trying to decide whether, when, and how to abort the mission, that I was very sad (depressed even) and was struggling with the whole "quitter/loser/failure" thing. I'm over that. WAY over that. I came to terms with my limitations on this trip. I'm okay with it. I'm happy to be home. I'm even happier that I had a goal, that I made concrete plans to effectuate that goal, that I did more than just plan to effectuate it -- I actually got up off the couch and got onto a bicycle -- and that I did the very best that I could to realize my goal. I am proud of myself! I did not make it to San Diego, but I made it to Navasota, Texas. Wow! Good for me!
In making this trip, I learned A LOT about myself. Some of it I kind of already knew, but either didn't accept or was in denial about, and some of it I discovered anew. None of it is bad. It just is what it is. It's me -- for better or worse. In some ways, I'm much stronger (mentally, physically, psychologically, emotionally) than I thought that I was. In other ways, not so much.
Here's what I'm most happy about: I actually did something big for myself. Don't get me wrong. I've accomplished many things in my life -- big things. I have a lot of education. I have a career. I own a home. I still have money in the bank (not a ton, but enough). I have great friends who have been very, very supportive. But in relation to accomplishing personal goals (as opposed to career and financial security goals), I have had a difficult time in life moving beyond the mere planning stages. I can plan the hell out of things. With this trip, I actually did it. I minimized my needs down to two small bags, lashed them to a bicycle, and rode away from everything and everyone that gave me security in life. That's big!
So even though I did not realize my ultimate goal of riding my trike from Florida to California, I did something HUGE for me, and I'm happy about it. Despite all the pain and misery I experienced along the way, I will FOREVER be grateful that I did it, if for no other reason than I got to meet and travel with some exceptional people. Ryan, Bryan, Mike, Carol, Jeff, and Dave are all wonderful people -- truly salt of the Earth. While we all had our own individual personality characteristics, we were amazingly compatible, considering that we were all from different places, of different ages and genders, and from different backgrounds. I suppose the commonality of our goal -- to bicycle across the continent -- was what made it work. I wish everyone the greatest success in realizing their goals, both in relation to this trip and beyond.
In considering my need/desire to stop riding and come home, I have identified a few contributing factors. Please hear me when I say there is nothing and no one to blame. There is no fault here. Ultimately, I (me, myself, and I, and no one else) made a variety of decisions along the way that led me to the conclusion that I did not want to continue on this journey. Internal and external factors affected my ultimate decision, but nothing and no one made me stop. It was a decision I made for myself. What follows are some contributing factors, but I'm not interested in listing them as justification for my decision; what I'm more interested in is what they taught me about myself.
Let's start with my level of fitness. When I decided to make this trip a reality, I was admittedly grossly out of shape. I was significantly overweight. I had been sedentary for a long, long time. Part of my decision to take this trip was to motivate me to get fit, get in shape, lose weight, and start living a more healthy, active lifestyle. After all, I'm not getting any younger. And I'm starting to feel the ill-effects of my sedentary lifestyle. So last year, I started making changes to my lifestyle. I tried several things. It was hard to break old habits. It wasn't until August that I got truly serious about burning calories and building endurance. That didn't give me much time to lose a lot of weight and build muscle. But I trained hard. Nearly every day. I still struggled with the diet aspect of it all, but I made tremendous progress in a relatively short amount of time. I wouldn't have been The Biggest Loser, but I lost nearly 30 pounds of fat, and gained a fair amount of muscle, before I left. I constantly worried about my fitness level for this trip, and almost aborted the mission in January because of it, but ultimately I hoped that I had done enough, and that I would be able to build upon my fitness level along the way. Here's what I discovered: Riding 50 miles on a bicycle was difficult. Thankfully, we didn't ride 50 miles every day, especially in the beginning. At the end of a 50-mile day, I was dog tired. In the beginning, my knees bothered me and contributed to my overall level of discomfort. Over time, they got better. It also got easier, over time, to ride 50 miles. Anything over that, however, was very difficult, especially when there was a headwind or hills, or both. I found that, in some ways, I was getting stronger every day -- especially in my legs. Despite the calories I was ingesting with chocolate milk and Little Debbie, I was still losing fat, which was a good thing. At the same time, however, I felt my overall health diminishing. I wasn't sleeping well at all, so I wasn't rejuvenating overnight like I needed to. I suspect that shivering all night actually zapped my energy and lowered my immune system. More about that later. An exceedingly poor diet also contributed to my progressively worsening mental and physical health. Ultimately, as we got closer and closer to the mountains of West Texas, I knew that I was not in the kind of physical shape necessary to maintain the mileage while climbing serious altitude. When I got a head cold, I knew my body was telling me to stop -- at least for awhile. So I did.
Probably the next major contributing factor was food, which I grossly underestimated. I knew that I would have to increase my caloric intake, given the level of exertion. What I did not realize was that we would not have access to more healthy eating options. The route we were on took us along country roads and through very, very small towns. Populations rarely exceeded 1,000 people. Our options were almost exclusively convenience stores, small country grocery stores, feed stores, etc. The food selection in these places, even in the small grocery stores, was sometimes sketchy. And we had to think about the caloric value of foods. One can theoretically eat an entire bag of baby carrots, but there aren't many calories in carrots. Thus, one would have to follow that bag of carrots with a giant Snickers or a honeybun or something with high carbs in order to sustain enough energy to pedal 15-20 miles to the next store. At the end of the day, while camping, we had tiny stoves and a single pot to cook in. We couldn't afford the time or energy or fuel to cook a big, healthy meal. Most people made Ramen noodles or Lipton's rice packets or mashed potatoes, if they cooked. If not, it was peanut butter on some type of conduit -- bread, cracker, tortilla. When we found ourselves in Walmart, I would buy several apples, oranges, and bananas, but they're heavy to carry on a bike, so weight of food was an issue, too. As for food prepared by others (like at a restaurant), there weren't too many of those along the way. We did manage to have a sit-down meal a few times, but it was restaurant food -- usually hamburgers, pizza, fried chicken, cheese sandwiches, etc. No vegetable plates. Unless you consider french fries and onion rings to be vegetables. So diet was a major issue. For future endeavors, I will definitely need to consider this aspect of a trip, since there is no doubt in my mind that my poor diet along the way significantly contributed to my diminishing physical -- and mental -- health. Multivitamins, which I did take, can only do so much.
Next: the weather! OMG!! It was cold. No, it was beyond cold. It was downright freezing. Day after day. Night after night. I didn't have the right gear and couldn't do anything to change it. There were times when I wore every stitch of clothing that I had to bed and still wasn't warm. Those were some miserable nights. Everywhere we went people were complaining about the weather. It was an aberrational winter -- everywhere. The worst in decades. Some people are better able to acclimate themselves to changing conditions. I am not one of those people. I don't like the cold. That's why I live in Florida. Still, I knew before leaving that we would face some cold temperatures. We were leaving in mid-February, after all. I just didn't anticipate, and wasn't able to adequately adapt to, the persistent cold and wind. It zapped my energy and wore me down. For future endeavors, I will need to make better gear choices, or else plan everything for the summer months on islands in the Caribbean.
Okay, so those were some of the major contributing factors. Here are some things I learned (or confirmed) about myself. Again, they're not negative things. They just are what they are. I'm sure they contributed, as well, to my decision to leave the road. I'll just say it: I'm a spoiled, middle-class, American girl. I like creature comforts. Not necessarily extravagant things, but to many in the world, they are luxuries: running water, flush toilets, hot running water, beds, real coffee with real half-and-half, warmth however generated, and hot, nutritious food. Had I been warm, the camping aspect of the trip would not have bothered me so much. I had a roomy tent, a comfortable sleeping pad and a pillow. I was just too cold. Because of that, I would have stayed in more motels along the way. But a large part of riding with a group is making the necessary compromises along the way. Different people had different budgets and different needs/desires in terms of where they laid their head each night. Unfortunately, all the camping we did was a compromise that I think compromised my ultimate success. The alternative for me was to break from the group and do what I thought I needed to do to succeed. However, I didn't think that I could have succeeded alone. And didn't want to make this trek alone. That's why I advertised for companions to begin with. So it was a Catch-22 situation. And ultimately a no-win situation. I wish that I had been strong enough mentally and emotionally to stay behind when I got sick, rest up, then continue on alone. But I knew that I was not strong enough. I learned that about myself. The conditions of living on the road were too much for me to negotiate alone. I admire those like Carol (and many others) who can do it. Power to you, girls!
Here are a few other random observations about the trip:
1) I felt very out-of-touch with the world. We caught bits of news here and there, but I felt very isolated from the general population.
2) Being so out-of-touch led to a certain amount of mental dullness. Although we talked during stops, I lacked mental stimulation, especially the kind of fast-paced, in-your-face stimulus I was accustomed to in "the real world."
3) Our nation's roadways are in serious disrepair. And they are not even remotely friendly to non-motorized use.
4) People lose their minds, and their civility, when they enter a motorized vehicle. I found myself creating new expletives to hurl at drivers, since the standard ones seemed ineffective.
5) We saw a ton of road kill. By far, the majority were dogs. People in the country apparently having little regard for their dogs. They live on busy roads, but don't bother to confine or constrain their dogs in the least. Dead dogs littered the side of the roads. It was very, very sad.
6) Speaking of dogs. I had several close encounters. Usually, a stern shout "No!" would do the trick. But not every time. I didn't carry mace because I didn't want the wind to carry it back to me. I also didn't know how I would steer and change gears and manipulate some device while trying to keep my arms, hands, neck and face away from gnashing teeth. One dog, in particular, went for my left bicep, but missed. It then sunk its teeth into my left pannier. Although I was pedalling hard, it yanked me backwards. While screaming, I swung my left arm backwards as hard as I could, nearly pulling my arm out of socket, trying to get him to let go. When he did, the force sent my bike careening off the right side of the road. I managed to correct myself before heading down an embankment and into a pond. It was a truly frightening moment.
7) Rumble strips should be outlawed. If you're driving a car and are (a) drunk, (b) falling asleep, (c) on the phone, (d) shaving your legs, or (e) all of the above, then you deserve to run off the road and into a tree. Rumble strips should not be there to save you.
(8) Buy stock in Dollar General. They are EVERYWHERE. When there was absolutely nothing else in "town," there was a Dollar General. Seriously, they must belong to the rabbit family.
(9) We met some AMAZING people along the way. Even in passing, people were friendly and encouraging. Others went out of their way to befriend us. Every single day someone (usually more than one person) confirmed that we were out of our minds. It was priceless.
Okay, I think I've exhausted myself about this whole bicycle trip. I've been writing forever. 'Nough said -- at least for now.
So how now, brown cow? What about the PCT? What, indeed. It was, after all, my original goal. The bicycling thing was merely an intended prelude. There was a time on the bike trip, when I was at my lowest, that I thought to myself, "If I can't do this, I surely can't do that." I'm not so sure about that anymore -- now that I'm rested and warm, sitting on my comfy couch in my living room.
Here's what I'm actually thinking about that whole endeavor: I need to get it out of my system. I've been pining to hike the PCT for over a decade now. If I don't at least go out there and do it, I'll never know. Like the bike trip, if I make it only 20 miles, or 200 miles, or 2,000 miles, then I will have made it that far. I need to go and see for myself what it's all about. I may like it, or I may not. I may finish the whole trail, or I may not. Whatever. I have the time and money to do it, so I should do it.
In many ways, it is entirely different from the bike trip. I will be hiking alone. Which is to say that there will be approximately 300 people starting the hike within four weeks of each other. The vast majority will start the week after the kickoff party, so I will not really be "alone." It is common for people to form loose associations along the way, hiking and camping together as their hiking styles permit. But I will be able to hike at my own pace. If I want to hike only 5 miles a day, I can. I can't sustain that over time if I have any desire to reach Canada before the snow flies, but my point is that I can do what I need to do, when I need to do it. To me, hiking alone along the trail is far different from bicycling across the country alone. I can't say that it's less perilous, but it seems less perilous to me. And hiking is more predictable. You hike as far as you want in a day, then you drop your pack and lie down wherever you can find a nice spot. Of course, water in the desert is a HUGE concern, so where and when you drop your pack is contingent in some respects on water sources, or at least your own water supply at the time. And unless you're in a town along the way, your only choice is to stealth camp, so you don't have any tempting alternative. Mentally, I think it's harder to stealth camp when you know there is/was a more comfortable alternative that you could afford. When it's your only choice you learn to deal with it. It makes town stops that much more enjoyable.
So I think I'm going to fly out to California in mid- to late-April and hike the PCT. In the meantime, I will make some gear changes and work on identifying better food choices for the hike. I will continue to train, as well. I may even take a few training hikes somewhere. I will also cyber-stalk the guys as they make their way out west.
Again, thank you all for being so supportive of me during my bike trip. It meant a lot to me. I will need support, as well, on the PCT, so I hope you'll follow along with me. I will post blogs occasionally between now and then, just to stay in the habit and to update everyone on my mental and physical process of preparing. Feel free to email me or post comments. Otherwise, do something BIG for yourself, whatever that means to you.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monday, March 8, 2010
Day 21 - Mar 7 - Home again
Out of sheer habit, I suppose, I awoke with the sun and laid there awhile, not wanting to wake the house too early. About 7 a.m., I packed up quietly, trying not to disturb everyone else, as they were still sleeping. I attempted to air out the car (skunk has its own special perfume), but wasn't successful. Once I got everything loaded, I snuck back inside. Bryan was awake, fiddling on his Crackberry, while still lying in his sleeping bag on the floor of the living room. Ryan and Mike were asleep on a fold-out couch. When I whispered to Bryan, the other two woke up. I tried not to belabor my departure. I was already emotional about leaving.
I'm sorry, Ryan and Mike, but I have to tell this story. What happened next was just such a fitting ending to my adventure with you guys. I will miss you so.
I gave Ryan a hug while he still lay in the bed. I then went around to the other side of the bed to give Mike a hug goodbye. He sat up, and the first thing he said, in his typically quiet manner, was, "I just touched Ryan's butt." He announced it like he had just stepped in dog poop. We all burst out laughing. I said, "Wait a minute, you mean his 'honeybuns'?" We laughed again. And so my time with these three super people has ended (for now). I hope I will see them again sometime in the future. I will be forever grateful that I met them and had the opportunity to ride with them, if only for three weeks. Best of luck to you all!
I drove away from Aunt Peggy's house (thanks for everything, Aunt P!) overwhelmed by emotion. Perhaps some coffee would help my disposition. I stopped at McDonald's on my way out of town and had what I hoped would be my last fast-food meal for a long while. Once I hit the road again, the traffic was fairly light, but once I reached Houston, people were out in droves. Houston was a complex maze of interstate interchanges. I was thankful that I made it through without getting off-course. I then began to relive my trip in reverse, passing signs to many of the small towns we had come through in the preceding three weeks. I spent several hours thinking about -- and feeling -- the events of the past 20 days. I began to make a list of things I wanted to post about as sort of an epilogue to my journey.
Hours passed as I played with the seek button on the radio, trying to find music to entertain me. I was covering in hours in a car what had taken me weeks to cover while pedalling a bicycle.
I soon found myself in Louisiana. By the time I reached New Orleans, however, I was tired of driving. The roads in La were sooooo bad. Nola was such a crazy maze of roads that I actually had to talk myself out of having a panic attack in the middle of the city. I congratulated myself when I finally made it through alive. It was truly scary. I'm not sure why. I've driven through a lot of major cities: Miami, Orlando, Atlanta, Charlotte, etc. I guess I was just tired and ready to be home.
Louisiana soon gave way to Mississippi, then Alabama, and finally Florida. Ahh, to be in my home state. I could almost feel the sheets on my bed against my skin. But first, I had to drop off my bike and stuff at home, and then return the rental car to the airport. All told, I drove 620 miles in 9 hours. Not bad. Only 2 stops. But what a long day. My mom picked me up at the airport (where I dropped off the car) and took me to dinner. I had a wonderful salad and cup of soup. Real food. De-lish. Then I got to see my babies. They played coy at first, but soon warmed up to me, rubbing my legs and purring. Then I'd get the stink-eye. Mad. "You left us for a long time, Mommy!" Then they'd come back. I missed them so.
I jumped into my hot tub, too. Glorious. I laid there a long time. My legs really appreciated it. They got really stiff riding in the car so long after having been conscripted into forced labor for three weeks. They told me they never wanted to pedal a bicycle again. I agreed not to make them. We all get along now.
In tomorrow's post, I will share some thoughts and feelings about my adventure, about ending my adventure early, and about what's next. I hope you will find them interesting and/or entertaining.
I have enjoyed reading everyone's comments and emails. I hope you have enjoyed my blog and my adventure. Stay tuned. There's more to come. I'm not done yet!
I'm sorry, Ryan and Mike, but I have to tell this story. What happened next was just such a fitting ending to my adventure with you guys. I will miss you so.
I gave Ryan a hug while he still lay in the bed. I then went around to the other side of the bed to give Mike a hug goodbye. He sat up, and the first thing he said, in his typically quiet manner, was, "I just touched Ryan's butt." He announced it like he had just stepped in dog poop. We all burst out laughing. I said, "Wait a minute, you mean his 'honeybuns'?" We laughed again. And so my time with these three super people has ended (for now). I hope I will see them again sometime in the future. I will be forever grateful that I met them and had the opportunity to ride with them, if only for three weeks. Best of luck to you all!
I drove away from Aunt Peggy's house (thanks for everything, Aunt P!) overwhelmed by emotion. Perhaps some coffee would help my disposition. I stopped at McDonald's on my way out of town and had what I hoped would be my last fast-food meal for a long while. Once I hit the road again, the traffic was fairly light, but once I reached Houston, people were out in droves. Houston was a complex maze of interstate interchanges. I was thankful that I made it through without getting off-course. I then began to relive my trip in reverse, passing signs to many of the small towns we had come through in the preceding three weeks. I spent several hours thinking about -- and feeling -- the events of the past 20 days. I began to make a list of things I wanted to post about as sort of an epilogue to my journey.
Hours passed as I played with the seek button on the radio, trying to find music to entertain me. I was covering in hours in a car what had taken me weeks to cover while pedalling a bicycle.
I soon found myself in Louisiana. By the time I reached New Orleans, however, I was tired of driving. The roads in La were sooooo bad. Nola was such a crazy maze of roads that I actually had to talk myself out of having a panic attack in the middle of the city. I congratulated myself when I finally made it through alive. It was truly scary. I'm not sure why. I've driven through a lot of major cities: Miami, Orlando, Atlanta, Charlotte, etc. I guess I was just tired and ready to be home.
Louisiana soon gave way to Mississippi, then Alabama, and finally Florida. Ahh, to be in my home state. I could almost feel the sheets on my bed against my skin. But first, I had to drop off my bike and stuff at home, and then return the rental car to the airport. All told, I drove 620 miles in 9 hours. Not bad. Only 2 stops. But what a long day. My mom picked me up at the airport (where I dropped off the car) and took me to dinner. I had a wonderful salad and cup of soup. Real food. De-lish. Then I got to see my babies. They played coy at first, but soon warmed up to me, rubbing my legs and purring. Then I'd get the stink-eye. Mad. "You left us for a long time, Mommy!" Then they'd come back. I missed them so.
I jumped into my hot tub, too. Glorious. I laid there a long time. My legs really appreciated it. They got really stiff riding in the car so long after having been conscripted into forced labor for three weeks. They told me they never wanted to pedal a bicycle again. I agreed not to make them. We all get along now.
In tomorrow's post, I will share some thoughts and feelings about my adventure, about ending my adventure early, and about what's next. I hope you will find them interesting and/or entertaining.
I have enjoyed reading everyone's comments and emails. I hope you have enjoyed my blog and my adventure. Stay tuned. There's more to come. I'm not done yet!
Day 20 - Mar 5 - The End
I slept fitfully with a runny nose and cold feet. The cold, damp air didn't help my chest congestion. I awoke more tired than when I went to bed. But I didn't have a choice. I had to ride the 60 miles to Hempstead. I had already decided to end my trip for sure, but I don't know if such knowledge made the last day easier or harder. To some extent, I think it made it harder, since I had lost some of my zeal to succeed.
We left the campground fairly early. The weather warmed up quickly, and it was a nice day, though slightly overcast. Rain was in the forecast for Sunday and Monday. I was slow, slow, slow upon leaving the campground, so I rode alone all day. The road was a narrow, two-lane affair with no shoulder, and the speed limit was 60 mph. I didn't plan on riding that fast, but the car and truck drivers certainly did. I got honked at all day long.
Throughout the trip, we've been on many back roads with no shoulder and high speed limits. And there have been a few close encounters with vehicles. But until Texas, I never really, seriously felt that my life was in danger. For the past few days, I certainly have. The drivers won't move over much, if any, and they won't slow down. At times, I have felt the hair on my left arm fly from the passing cars/trucks. That's close. Too close. Yesterday, a truck almost ran a car off the road, passing me on a hill.
Since today is Saturday, traffic on these country roads seemed fairly heavy. They must have all been headed to a Walmart somewhere. The ride through the Sam Houston National Forest was probably the loveliest scenery we've had throughout the trip. It was mainly just a pine forest, but it was dense and unpopulated and serene. When we emerged from the forest, the land became a rolling terrain of cattle grazing land. The hills seemed mountainous to me, as I struggled to ascend them at 5 mph. Normally, the downside would be fun, but on a two-lane road with traffic, you have to hug the side, so I had to brake down most of the hills, which meant I lost that momentum for the next ride up. It became disheartening early on.
My mid-day, I was totally spent. I had absolutely no energy. We still had 40 more miles to go. I seriously doubted that I could make it with all the hills. By the time we got to Anderson, 25 miles into the day, I was sobbing while riding. I didn't know what I was going to do, or how I was going to make it another 40 miles. We stopped at a local diner to eat. Mike and Bryan had enormous bacon cheeseburgers, and I had a BLT and onion rings, which I couldn't finish. While we sat there, the locals around us starting quizzing us about our trip. We had seen dozens and dozens of people out on motorcycles during the day, and two tables were filled with motorcycle riders. They were all incredulous of our journey. I tried to hitch a ride to College Station, TX, about 35 miles away where I knew there was an airport and rental cars (Texas A & M is there), but no one was headed that way. I had talked to a rental car agent who had offered to come get me, but he couldn't leave the desk for awhile and asked if I could ride closer to him, so we hit the road to Navasota, which was our next stop. By now, it was getting late, and the guys needed to hit the road if they were going to make it to Hempstead by dark.
I don't know where I found the strength to ride another 10 miles up and over hill after hill, but I did. I literally crawled into Navasota and found the guys waiting for me at a convenience store (where else?). I called the rental car agent back, and he told me that he could come get me after 5 p.m. (it was 3 p.m. at that point), so I stayed in Navasota, and the guys took off for Hempstead. It was a little unsettling to be there alone. While I was on the phone with my Mom (who was delighted that I was coming home), a Hispanic woman tried to sell me some perfume. Her pitch: "Excuse me, ma'am. Strange question. You do like to where perfume, don't you?" I just looked at her, wondering if I even managed to put on deodorant this morning, much less perfume. She was stunned when I said, "No." She replied, "You don't?" As if there were something wrong with me. I looked at her with that I'm-on-the-phone look, and said, "No" again. She bounded off to accost another patron at the store. When a one-armed sheriff's deputy (how does that work exactly?) pulled up a few minutes later, she and her colleagues beat a hasty exit from the parking lot with their bags of snake oil.
With two hours to kill, I rolled next door to McDonald's and ate some french fries. I wasn't sure what kind of car I was going to be able to rent. The agent told me he had a Mazda 5 available for a one-way rental and thought it would hold my trike with the seats folded down (it's a crossover type vehicle), but I wasn't sure what that was or to what extent I would have to dis-assemble my bike. Ultimately, I removed only the fairing and its hardware. The trike fit perfectly in the back of the vehicle. I was so happy.
Cole, the Enterprise agent, drove about 25 miles from College Station to get me and drove me back to C.S. to the airport. He was such a nice guy. He was doing this on his own time, since his work day ended at 5 p.m. He gave me a quick history of this college town. It was a big city in comparison to the tiny towns we had been riding through. And clean. Cole told me that the recession had not hit there at all, and that the town was booming. It looked like it.
It was weird driving a car again. It had been only three weeks since I'd driven one, but it was strange nonetheless. My legs were thanking me. By the time I got on the road, it was getting dark. The main roadway was undergoing major construction, so I took a wrong turn and got lost for awhile, getting out of the city. Once on my way, I realized that the gas gauge was setting on empty. Nice. I was now in between College Station and Navasota. There was nothing around. I could just see myself running out of gas and being stranded on the side of the road. Luckily, I made it to a gas station in Navasota, then hit the road on my way to Ryan's aunt's house, where I was going to stay for the night.
I passed by the first turn and had to go back. I wasn't sure where the next turn was supposed to be, and I was out in the middle of nowhere. Just as soon as I made my first turn, there before me, in the middle of the road, was a skunk just ambling along. I couldn't do anything to avoid it. It was just right there. Bam. I hit it. And I burst out crying. I felt so bad. I was so tired and so stressed and so ready to be where I was going, I just lost it. And, of course, the stench from the skunk was overwhelming. It had filled the entire car, and I was gagging on the smell. Once I had pulled myself together, I called Ryan. As soon as we connected, I heard a loud beep. My cell phone battery was on its last leg. Great. Before it died, he told me to go about 5 miles and turn at a stop sign. I drove forever. No stop sign. I called him back. Oops. There was no stop sign. So I turned around and tried to find the right street. I couldn't read the street signs, even with my high-beams on. I had to actually get out of the car to read a sign. Turns out, it was the road I needed. I drove several miles and found Ryan at the end of a driveway, blinking his headlamp/flashlight at me. It was a welcomed sight.
By the time I pulled in, it was after 8 p.m. Everyone had eaten, but I was offered what remained. I ate some salad and shared a cheesecake my Mom had mailed there (along with other things) for my birthday. Ryan's aunt was very sweet. I had a shower and got to sleep in a bed. We all crashed about 9:30 p.m. What a long, long day. I lay in bed not sure how I felt about it all. I was glad to be going home, but sad that I would be leaving the guys and cutting short my intended trip. I fell asleep trying to sort it all out.
We left the campground fairly early. The weather warmed up quickly, and it was a nice day, though slightly overcast. Rain was in the forecast for Sunday and Monday. I was slow, slow, slow upon leaving the campground, so I rode alone all day. The road was a narrow, two-lane affair with no shoulder, and the speed limit was 60 mph. I didn't plan on riding that fast, but the car and truck drivers certainly did. I got honked at all day long.
Throughout the trip, we've been on many back roads with no shoulder and high speed limits. And there have been a few close encounters with vehicles. But until Texas, I never really, seriously felt that my life was in danger. For the past few days, I certainly have. The drivers won't move over much, if any, and they won't slow down. At times, I have felt the hair on my left arm fly from the passing cars/trucks. That's close. Too close. Yesterday, a truck almost ran a car off the road, passing me on a hill.
Since today is Saturday, traffic on these country roads seemed fairly heavy. They must have all been headed to a Walmart somewhere. The ride through the Sam Houston National Forest was probably the loveliest scenery we've had throughout the trip. It was mainly just a pine forest, but it was dense and unpopulated and serene. When we emerged from the forest, the land became a rolling terrain of cattle grazing land. The hills seemed mountainous to me, as I struggled to ascend them at 5 mph. Normally, the downside would be fun, but on a two-lane road with traffic, you have to hug the side, so I had to brake down most of the hills, which meant I lost that momentum for the next ride up. It became disheartening early on.
My mid-day, I was totally spent. I had absolutely no energy. We still had 40 more miles to go. I seriously doubted that I could make it with all the hills. By the time we got to Anderson, 25 miles into the day, I was sobbing while riding. I didn't know what I was going to do, or how I was going to make it another 40 miles. We stopped at a local diner to eat. Mike and Bryan had enormous bacon cheeseburgers, and I had a BLT and onion rings, which I couldn't finish. While we sat there, the locals around us starting quizzing us about our trip. We had seen dozens and dozens of people out on motorcycles during the day, and two tables were filled with motorcycle riders. They were all incredulous of our journey. I tried to hitch a ride to College Station, TX, about 35 miles away where I knew there was an airport and rental cars (Texas A & M is there), but no one was headed that way. I had talked to a rental car agent who had offered to come get me, but he couldn't leave the desk for awhile and asked if I could ride closer to him, so we hit the road to Navasota, which was our next stop. By now, it was getting late, and the guys needed to hit the road if they were going to make it to Hempstead by dark.
I don't know where I found the strength to ride another 10 miles up and over hill after hill, but I did. I literally crawled into Navasota and found the guys waiting for me at a convenience store (where else?). I called the rental car agent back, and he told me that he could come get me after 5 p.m. (it was 3 p.m. at that point), so I stayed in Navasota, and the guys took off for Hempstead. It was a little unsettling to be there alone. While I was on the phone with my Mom (who was delighted that I was coming home), a Hispanic woman tried to sell me some perfume. Her pitch: "Excuse me, ma'am. Strange question. You do like to where perfume, don't you?" I just looked at her, wondering if I even managed to put on deodorant this morning, much less perfume. She was stunned when I said, "No." She replied, "You don't?" As if there were something wrong with me. I looked at her with that I'm-on-the-phone look, and said, "No" again. She bounded off to accost another patron at the store. When a one-armed sheriff's deputy (how does that work exactly?) pulled up a few minutes later, she and her colleagues beat a hasty exit from the parking lot with their bags of snake oil.
With two hours to kill, I rolled next door to McDonald's and ate some french fries. I wasn't sure what kind of car I was going to be able to rent. The agent told me he had a Mazda 5 available for a one-way rental and thought it would hold my trike with the seats folded down (it's a crossover type vehicle), but I wasn't sure what that was or to what extent I would have to dis-assemble my bike. Ultimately, I removed only the fairing and its hardware. The trike fit perfectly in the back of the vehicle. I was so happy.
Cole, the Enterprise agent, drove about 25 miles from College Station to get me and drove me back to C.S. to the airport. He was such a nice guy. He was doing this on his own time, since his work day ended at 5 p.m. He gave me a quick history of this college town. It was a big city in comparison to the tiny towns we had been riding through. And clean. Cole told me that the recession had not hit there at all, and that the town was booming. It looked like it.
It was weird driving a car again. It had been only three weeks since I'd driven one, but it was strange nonetheless. My legs were thanking me. By the time I got on the road, it was getting dark. The main roadway was undergoing major construction, so I took a wrong turn and got lost for awhile, getting out of the city. Once on my way, I realized that the gas gauge was setting on empty. Nice. I was now in between College Station and Navasota. There was nothing around. I could just see myself running out of gas and being stranded on the side of the road. Luckily, I made it to a gas station in Navasota, then hit the road on my way to Ryan's aunt's house, where I was going to stay for the night.
I passed by the first turn and had to go back. I wasn't sure where the next turn was supposed to be, and I was out in the middle of nowhere. Just as soon as I made my first turn, there before me, in the middle of the road, was a skunk just ambling along. I couldn't do anything to avoid it. It was just right there. Bam. I hit it. And I burst out crying. I felt so bad. I was so tired and so stressed and so ready to be where I was going, I just lost it. And, of course, the stench from the skunk was overwhelming. It had filled the entire car, and I was gagging on the smell. Once I had pulled myself together, I called Ryan. As soon as we connected, I heard a loud beep. My cell phone battery was on its last leg. Great. Before it died, he told me to go about 5 miles and turn at a stop sign. I drove forever. No stop sign. I called him back. Oops. There was no stop sign. So I turned around and tried to find the right street. I couldn't read the street signs, even with my high-beams on. I had to actually get out of the car to read a sign. Turns out, it was the road I needed. I drove several miles and found Ryan at the end of a driveway, blinking his headlamp/flashlight at me. It was a welcomed sight.
By the time I pulled in, it was after 8 p.m. Everyone had eaten, but I was offered what remained. I ate some salad and shared a cheesecake my Mom had mailed there (along with other things) for my birthday. Ryan's aunt was very sweet. I had a shower and got to sleep in a bed. We all crashed about 9:30 p.m. What a long, long day. I lay in bed not sure how I felt about it all. I was glad to be going home, but sad that I would be leaving the guys and cutting short my intended trip. I fell asleep trying to sort it all out.
Day 19 - Mar 4 - Encouragement from the locals
Often, one of the perks of staying in a motel is a free breakfast buffet. Breakfast is a favored meal. I can roll for miles if I have a tummy full of breakfast carbs. Some buffets are better than others, of course. At America's Best Value Inn and Suites, it was unfortunately pretty sad. You have to understand that we've been eating out of convenience stores for weeks now. So when I saw a bowl of Little Debbie Honeybuns and Donuts, my stomach turned over. I poked around and found some milk in a small refrigerator, so I had two small bowls of Frosted Flakes, which were nearly ground to dust by the turnstile dispenser they were in. Oh, well. Beggars can't be choosers.
Mike awoke with a migraine, so we hung out for awhile at the motel, waiting for it to subside. My nose was still running profusely, and my lungs began to feel congested, as well. It's one thing not to be able to breathe out of one's nose while riding. It's another thing entirely if one's lungs can't fill to capacity. It was not a good sign.
We hit the road about 10 a.m. from Shepherd, and I reached Coldspring about 11:30 am. I found Ryan and Bryan hanging out in front of the courthouse, munching on snacks. Ryan had come from a store across the street that advertised vitamins and wellness products. I asked him if the store had a restroom, and he said that it did, but he warned me that the owner talked a lot. Unfortunately, he didn't say what she talked about. Thanks, Ryan.
(Courthouse in Coldspring, TX)
I've been in a fair number of holistic medicine shops, health food stores, and the like. In my experience, people who operate and frequent those types of stores are generally very positive, upbeat, centered people, who are "one with the Earth." They usually have good energy, and a positive aura, if you believe in such things. This woman did not. In fact, upon reflection, she was rather creepy. I told her that I was with the guy who had just left, traveling by bicycle across the country. Despite the fact that she had told Ryan everything she was about to tell me, she acted like she didn't know who or what I was talking about. She then proceeded to tell me in so many words that we were all going to die in the desert of west Texas. First, it will be hot enough during the day for the pavement to boil, and it will be freezing cold at night. Second, because it's spring, all the venomous rattlesnakes will be coming out of hibernation. For warmth, they will lay upon the roadways, literally blanketing them. And they will be aggressive, because they haven't eaten in months, so when we ride by -- don't you dare run over one! -- they will lunge at us and bite us. Of course, if we get bitten, we will surely die, because we will be miles from a hospital with anti-venom. However, if we manage to survive and flag down a car, we must borrow something with a cord on it, strip the cord down to its wires, connect the wires to the car's cigarette lighter (do they still make cars with lighters?), and zap the bite wound with electricity. The electricity will then turn the venom into protein, and the body will absorb the protein without harm. Right! I think she must have been hittin' some kind of herbal pipe, if you know what I mean.
As she began to tell another horror story, I asked to use the restroom, then made a hasty exit. On my way out the door, I thanked her and said, "Wish us luck." She responded, "May the Lord be with you!" Indeed.
After leaving Shepherd in the morning, the hills had returned in earnest. To those in a car, I'm sure they were hardly noticeable little bumps in the road, but on a bicycle, they required significantly more energy to climb. Unfortunately, my derailleur was acting up, and I didn't know how to adjust it. It wouldn't shift into certain gears -- ones I needed to climb hills, of course -- or it would shift out of gear on its own. Very annoying. The grip shifter used to change the gears on the handlebar was also extremely tight, so I had to wrench it to change gears, which was often. Ryan had tried to adjust it at the motel before we left, but to no avail.
I struggled significantly until the next stop in Pumpkin, where we took a break at a gas station. I thought I was going to die on my way into New Waverly. I hadn't had any substantial food all day, and I was having trouble breathing, as my lungs were congested. We were headed that day for a campground about 6 miles west of New Waverly. When I got to town, I checked my phone and found a text from Ryan that he and Bryan had gone on to the campground. I soon saw Mike down the block, so we met up and had a FABULOUS meal at a restaurant. I had half a BBQ chicken, fresh green beans, and the best potato salad I've had in a long, long time. It was truly delicious.
(Lake Livingston)
While we ate, I got another text from Ryan: The campground was full. It was Friday afternoon. The weather was nice. And spring break had just started. Ryan and Bryan wanted to stealth camp in Sam Houston National Forest (which means sneak off into the woods somewhere and pitch a tent). The other option was a campground another 6 miles down the road. I opted for the campground. I'm sure they weren't happy, but they rode like demons to get there before it filled up and secured us a site next to the restrooms. Mike and I managed to get there close to 5 p.m. I was absolutely wasted.
I was thankful for a hot shower, such as it was. I'm assuming the government wanted to conserve water, so they installed a push-button shower faucet. The water temp was not adjustable (one temp fits all), but was relatively hot. The only problem was that the water stayed on for only 10 seconds at a time. You had to keep pushing the button, which was not close to the shower head. I've never seen a shower that required gymnastic skills.
When I emerged from the shower, Mike et al had managed to build a fire in a fire ring. It was our first campground fire of the trip. Mike had been wanting one since we started, so he was like a kid in a candy store, throwing on leaves and pine cones and other debris, watching it burn. If only we had the fixins for S'mores. Since we don't, I'm going to bed.
Tomorrow will be our last riding day into Hempstead where Ryan's aunt lives. It will be a long day -- 60+ miles. I hope I can make it.
Mike awoke with a migraine, so we hung out for awhile at the motel, waiting for it to subside. My nose was still running profusely, and my lungs began to feel congested, as well. It's one thing not to be able to breathe out of one's nose while riding. It's another thing entirely if one's lungs can't fill to capacity. It was not a good sign.
We hit the road about 10 a.m. from Shepherd, and I reached Coldspring about 11:30 am. I found Ryan and Bryan hanging out in front of the courthouse, munching on snacks. Ryan had come from a store across the street that advertised vitamins and wellness products. I asked him if the store had a restroom, and he said that it did, but he warned me that the owner talked a lot. Unfortunately, he didn't say what she talked about. Thanks, Ryan.
I've been in a fair number of holistic medicine shops, health food stores, and the like. In my experience, people who operate and frequent those types of stores are generally very positive, upbeat, centered people, who are "one with the Earth." They usually have good energy, and a positive aura, if you believe in such things. This woman did not. In fact, upon reflection, she was rather creepy. I told her that I was with the guy who had just left, traveling by bicycle across the country. Despite the fact that she had told Ryan everything she was about to tell me, she acted like she didn't know who or what I was talking about. She then proceeded to tell me in so many words that we were all going to die in the desert of west Texas. First, it will be hot enough during the day for the pavement to boil, and it will be freezing cold at night. Second, because it's spring, all the venomous rattlesnakes will be coming out of hibernation. For warmth, they will lay upon the roadways, literally blanketing them. And they will be aggressive, because they haven't eaten in months, so when we ride by -- don't you dare run over one! -- they will lunge at us and bite us. Of course, if we get bitten, we will surely die, because we will be miles from a hospital with anti-venom. However, if we manage to survive and flag down a car, we must borrow something with a cord on it, strip the cord down to its wires, connect the wires to the car's cigarette lighter (do they still make cars with lighters?), and zap the bite wound with electricity. The electricity will then turn the venom into protein, and the body will absorb the protein without harm. Right! I think she must have been hittin' some kind of herbal pipe, if you know what I mean.
As she began to tell another horror story, I asked to use the restroom, then made a hasty exit. On my way out the door, I thanked her and said, "Wish us luck." She responded, "May the Lord be with you!" Indeed.
After leaving Shepherd in the morning, the hills had returned in earnest. To those in a car, I'm sure they were hardly noticeable little bumps in the road, but on a bicycle, they required significantly more energy to climb. Unfortunately, my derailleur was acting up, and I didn't know how to adjust it. It wouldn't shift into certain gears -- ones I needed to climb hills, of course -- or it would shift out of gear on its own. Very annoying. The grip shifter used to change the gears on the handlebar was also extremely tight, so I had to wrench it to change gears, which was often. Ryan had tried to adjust it at the motel before we left, but to no avail.
I struggled significantly until the next stop in Pumpkin, where we took a break at a gas station. I thought I was going to die on my way into New Waverly. I hadn't had any substantial food all day, and I was having trouble breathing, as my lungs were congested. We were headed that day for a campground about 6 miles west of New Waverly. When I got to town, I checked my phone and found a text from Ryan that he and Bryan had gone on to the campground. I soon saw Mike down the block, so we met up and had a FABULOUS meal at a restaurant. I had half a BBQ chicken, fresh green beans, and the best potato salad I've had in a long, long time. It was truly delicious.
While we ate, I got another text from Ryan: The campground was full. It was Friday afternoon. The weather was nice. And spring break had just started. Ryan and Bryan wanted to stealth camp in Sam Houston National Forest (which means sneak off into the woods somewhere and pitch a tent). The other option was a campground another 6 miles down the road. I opted for the campground. I'm sure they weren't happy, but they rode like demons to get there before it filled up and secured us a site next to the restrooms. Mike and I managed to get there close to 5 p.m. I was absolutely wasted.
I was thankful for a hot shower, such as it was. I'm assuming the government wanted to conserve water, so they installed a push-button shower faucet. The water temp was not adjustable (one temp fits all), but was relatively hot. The only problem was that the water stayed on for only 10 seconds at a time. You had to keep pushing the button, which was not close to the shower head. I've never seen a shower that required gymnastic skills.
When I emerged from the shower, Mike et al had managed to build a fire in a fire ring. It was our first campground fire of the trip. Mike had been wanting one since we started, so he was like a kid in a candy store, throwing on leaves and pine cones and other debris, watching it burn. If only we had the fixins for S'mores. Since we don't, I'm going to bed.
Tomorrow will be our last riding day into Hempstead where Ryan's aunt lives. It will be a long day -- 60+ miles. I hope I can make it.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Day 18 - Mar 4 - Bicycling missionaries
While I lay there simpering, Mike woke up. He walked with me to the convenience store, and we sat there until 7 a.m., drinking coffee. While I sat there, I pondered how I could get to Beaumont, where I could rent a car to go home. I figured I could pay someone to haul me and my bike the 50 miles or so south into the city.
After the sun came up, Mike and I walked back to the library and started packing up. I was sooo sad, thinking that (a) I was a quitter, (b) I was a failure, and (c) I might never see these guys again. I really love these guys. They are sooo cool. I've really gotten to know them, and I think the world of them. The thought of leaving them made me cry, which I did for awhile, sitting outside the library.
When I told them of my plan to go to Beaumont, they began telling me stories of hard times they've had, and of funny stories that made me laugh. They cheered me up. Then they suggested we go back to the convenience store to have pancakes for breakfast. Sold.
After we ate, I still felt bad, because of my cold and the lack of sleep, and I didn't know how I was going to make it 50 miles to the next stop on the tour, but I decided to try. It was a tough decision. Once made, it meant that I was locked into going to Hempstead, since we would be traveling away from a large town that would allow me to go home. Four more days on the road -- sick and tired and cold and sad. For whatever reason, I decided to keep going -- for better or worse.
The weather warmed up quickly, and we had a good road with a wide shoulder for most of the day. Still, I was lagging. It was difficult to breathe. We went through a very long, desolate stretch of highway, through timberland, some of which was clear-cut.
We stopped after 20 miles at a post office in the middle of nowhere to rest, then hit the road for another 15 mile stretch.
Our next stop was a feed store, which was perfect, since we needed to be fed. It was here that Mike earned his road name, The Bee Charmer. He revealed to Bryan and me that he had an aversion to bees, which were swarming all around us. He started swatting at them vigorously. One hit me in the chest. Despite Mike's aggression, none of them fought back and attacked us. So I dubbed him The Bee Charmer.
Carol previously named Bryan, "Dirty Bird," which has stuck with him since Pensacola. And I decided yesterday that Ryan should be called "Honey Buns," since he always seems to have one in hand, one in mouth, or several strapped to his bike. I have yet to acquire my road name, or at least the guys won't call me it directly.
After we stopped for snacks at the feed store, I passed two women and two teenaged girls in their yard, somewhere near the intersection of East Bejesus Farm Road and North Bejesus Farm Road. I waved my standard sideways Miss America wave, and they waved back. One of the women yelled, "Where ya headed?" I responded, "California." She replied, "Are ya spreadin' the word of God?" Having now passed them in full stride, I yelled loudly over my shoulder, "Absolutely!" I think the woman said, "Alright then." I smiled and kept peddling.
A few miles later, we stopped at a country store. Because I had snacked at the post office, I did not snack at the feed store. By the time I got to the country store, I was dizzy and my legs had turned to rubber. We had only been 35 miles and had another 15 to go. Next time you get a cold, go to the gym (or wherever) and exercise as hard as you can for three and a half hours, then tell me how you feel. 'Cause I felt bad.
I grabbed a quart (not a pint, a quart) of chocolate milk (Borden makes the best) and chugged. It was soooo good, but it was alot all at once. I then ordered a cheese sandwich and fries, but couldn't quite manage to eat them. Never fear, the guys will inhale all leftovers, which they did.
Unfortunately, I felt really, really bad after lunch. I knew it would be a struggle to make it the last 15 miles. The first 5 weren't that bad. I took it kind of slow. Then we turned onto a really, really bad road that beat me to death, which lasted for about another 5 miles. The last 5 nearly killed me. I felt so bad and really struggled to make it up the last few hills. I was literally wheezing and gasping for breath.
Finally, we made it to Shepherd, TX, and stopped at the grocery store to ask directions to the town's only motel. A young female cashier and a customer gave me directions (which were not difficult), then I left to do some shopping. While checking out with the same cashier, she asked me if I remembered the directions. I smiled and told her that I had just bicycled from Florida, so I thought I could remember how to get there. At that news, she got sooo excited and flipped her light off, so she could go outside to see our bikes and meet the guys. She was too sweet.
We're now piled into a motel room. I feel so much better after a shower. Three days and two nights without one had certainly added to my misery. The guys can go a week without a shower and not think a thing about it, but I can't. That was too long for me. But sometimes one just isn't available.
We're getting ready to do laundry. We've been wearing the same clothes for a week. That's nasty, too, but it's harder to do laundry than it is to get a shower. It will be nice to have clean clothes for tomorrow.
Okay, that's it. There are chores to be done before bedtime. Not sure where we're headed tomorrow. Probably a campground between New Waverly and Richards. We'll see. Talk at you tomorrow.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Phone
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Day 17- Mar 3 - A lovely day (for a change)
Morning dawned with frost on the ground. We had slept in a city park on a stage under a pavilion, hoping it would be warmer than sleeping on the cold concrete. I suppose it was, but not by much. Soon after we awoke, water started dripping from the roof all over our stuff as we tried to pack up. I managed to make some hot chocolate with frozen fingers, and tried to warm up. It didn't help much.
We hit the road about 9 a.m. and stopped at a convenience store for some hot coffee. That did the trick. It also warmed up pretty quickly, as the sun was shining brightly. Before noon, there was hardly any wind or hills, so we cruised, making it to Silsbee, 30 miles away, by noonish. I had a court hearing scheduled for 1:30 p.m., so we sat in a combo Taco Bell/KFC until then. It was very bizarre giving testimony by phone from a fast food restaurant in Texas. I was lucky to have cell service and enough battery power, since the city park didn't have electricity last night.
We had no fixed destination and no idea where we were going to stay tonight, but we wanted to do more than 30 miles today, so we hit the road after my phone hearing. We wound up in Kountze, TX, another 10 miles away. The headwind was fierce, and the traffic was bad, but we had a nice paved shoulder all day.
We were going to try to push on another 7 miles to Honey Island, but it was getting late, so Ryan and I approached a man outside a large Methodist church next door to where we had stopped at a convenience store. Although he was the head of the board of trustees, he was not able to give us permission to camp on the church lawn. That would take a meeting by the board and a vote, don't you know. He also chastised us for showing up in a strange town in the afternoon without a fixed place to stay. On top of all that, the church did not have a Wednesday supper. So much for community outreach.
Ryan and I walked a few blocks over to the police station/courthouse and asked if they could help us out. They offered a vacant lot next door or suggested we ask Laverne, the librarian, at the library across the street. The library has a small gazebo and picnic table outside. Laverne was very accommodating, so we'll be staying in the gazebo tonight. Night two without a shower, and no restroom facilities, but there's a 24-hour convenience store a few blocks away, so I guess I'll be brushing my teeth in their restroom. Hmm.
(The police department in Kountze, TX)
(The Kountze library)
(Our "home" for the night)
So I was hoping that things were beginning to look up. The weather is improving (somewhat), but now . . . I have a cold. It's been coming on all day. That burning in the sinuses and drip down the throat. Now my nose is stuffy, and I can't breathe. What else? Really. What else could possibly happen to make life more difficult? I hope it's not freezing tonight. I'm really, really tired.
I'm at the library, trying to post this before they close at 5:30 p.m. No photos for you today. When the raccoon stole my phone charger, he stole my data cable, too. I managed to replace only the charger. Thus, I have no way to upload photos from my phone to the computer. Sorry.
I'm not sure where we're headed tomorrow. Shepherd, I think. Or Coldspring. We probably won't know until we get somewhere. You'll know when I know.
Okay, that's it for today. Talk at you tomorrow.
We hit the road about 9 a.m. and stopped at a convenience store for some hot coffee. That did the trick. It also warmed up pretty quickly, as the sun was shining brightly. Before noon, there was hardly any wind or hills, so we cruised, making it to Silsbee, 30 miles away, by noonish. I had a court hearing scheduled for 1:30 p.m., so we sat in a combo Taco Bell/KFC until then. It was very bizarre giving testimony by phone from a fast food restaurant in Texas. I was lucky to have cell service and enough battery power, since the city park didn't have electricity last night.
We had no fixed destination and no idea where we were going to stay tonight, but we wanted to do more than 30 miles today, so we hit the road after my phone hearing. We wound up in Kountze, TX, another 10 miles away. The headwind was fierce, and the traffic was bad, but we had a nice paved shoulder all day.
We were going to try to push on another 7 miles to Honey Island, but it was getting late, so Ryan and I approached a man outside a large Methodist church next door to where we had stopped at a convenience store. Although he was the head of the board of trustees, he was not able to give us permission to camp on the church lawn. That would take a meeting by the board and a vote, don't you know. He also chastised us for showing up in a strange town in the afternoon without a fixed place to stay. On top of all that, the church did not have a Wednesday supper. So much for community outreach.
Ryan and I walked a few blocks over to the police station/courthouse and asked if they could help us out. They offered a vacant lot next door or suggested we ask Laverne, the librarian, at the library across the street. The library has a small gazebo and picnic table outside. Laverne was very accommodating, so we'll be staying in the gazebo tonight. Night two without a shower, and no restroom facilities, but there's a 24-hour convenience store a few blocks away, so I guess I'll be brushing my teeth in their restroom. Hmm.
So I was hoping that things were beginning to look up. The weather is improving (somewhat), but now . . . I have a cold. It's been coming on all day. That burning in the sinuses and drip down the throat. Now my nose is stuffy, and I can't breathe. What else? Really. What else could possibly happen to make life more difficult? I hope it's not freezing tonight. I'm really, really tired.
I'm at the library, trying to post this before they close at 5:30 p.m. No photos for you today. When the raccoon stole my phone charger, he stole my data cable, too. I managed to replace only the charger. Thus, I have no way to upload photos from my phone to the computer. Sorry.
I'm not sure where we're headed tomorrow. Shepherd, I think. Or Coldspring. We probably won't know until we get somewhere. You'll know when I know.
Okay, that's it for today. Talk at you tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Day 16 - Mar 2 - Texas!
The motel had a decent free breakfast. I wasn't sure if I could hold down food, but I did, so I tried to fill up. We left about 9 a.m. and rode in the cold wind. It was supposed to be sunny today, but the sun didn't come out until about 2 p.m. We had a headwind all day, too, which made riding more difficult. There weren't many services along the way, so we didn't eat much until we got to Kirbyville.
But we're in Texas!!!! Our fourth state (not counting Florida). Yay for us!!!
We really didn't know where we were going to stay tonight. We knew there was a motel here, but we didn't know what it would be like, and some of us are on limited budgets, so we can't stay in motels every night. After gorging ourselves at Subway (and enjoying the warmth), Ryan and I rode to the police station to seek permission to camp in a large city park behind the Subway. The police department sent us next door to the mayor's office, so we went there. A lady behind a glass window gave us permission, so Ryan and I rode back to the park. We're hanging out under a super large pavilion, waiting for some people to leave before setting up camp. It's supposed to be 31 degrees tonight, so I want to get set up and into my tent before I turn into an icicle.
Tomorrow, we're headed to Silsbee, TX, and perhaps beyond. I'm supposed to call in to a court hearing tomorrow at 1:30 p.m., so I have to be somewhere that has cell service. Depending on what's in Silsbee, we may stay there, or we may ride on. We'll have to wait and see.
So stay tuned, all. Talk at you tomorrow.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Phone
Monday, March 1, 2010
Day 15 - Mar 1 - A blessed day off
The rain started around 5:30 a.m., tap, tap, tapping on my tent. I knew it was supposed to rain all day and into the night, so I hopped up, grabbed my panniers, which were under the rain fly, and headed for the nasty washateria. I put on all my clothes and tried to sleep in a chair, but I was so cold. The guys came in one after another throughout the morning. Dave has a pot with an electric heating element in it, so he boiled water for hot drinks.
By 11 a.m., the ground outside was saturated, and most of the stuff in my tent was wet. We had all decided to rent a motel in town, so we began to pack all of our wet stuff while standing in the rain. It was 40 degrees outside.
I had yet to replace the tube in my back tire, so I knew I wouldn't be able to ride anywhere until I did. The thought of standing in the rain and changing the tube was not appealing, so I asked the man who ran the RV park if he would be willing to drive me and my bike the few miles to the motel we had agreed to stay at, which was conveniently located next to -- where else -- Walmart. He agreed, so we loaded my bike and gear and left the guys behind. Sorry guys.
When I got to the motel, they had no rooms. Now what? I tried calling the guys, but no one answered their phone. A man came out of the motel and started chatting with me about my bike and the trip. I must have seemed pathetic as I groused about the motel being full, because he drove to another motel down the road, confirmed they had a room available, and came back to tell me. How nice. I was truly touched by that.
Soon thereafter, Dave rode up, so he and I went to the motel down the road and got a room, hoping the other guys would finally contact me, so I could tell them where we were. They did, and we soon headed to Walmart to shop (the guys finally got their beer). We then went to Pizza Hut and each got a large pizza.
Clean, warm, and full, I finally tackled my flat tire. It's much, much easier to change a flat inside a motel room, than on the side of the road. It's nice to be able to wash your hands afterwards.
My day off is winding down, but I don't feel particularly rested. I spent the morning so cold and tired that I never could relax. Once we got to the motel, there were constant chores to be done, including this post. Hopefully, I'll have a few hours to rest before I go to bed.
I've been getting alot of sweet comments and emails. I wish I had the time to respond to each of you individually. I don't, so I'll just tell you all right here: I appreciate your comments and encouragement and "tough love." It means alot to me that you would take the time to write to me.
The guys are being really sweet, too. While we (Ryan, Bryan, and Mike) waited for our pizzas, they (a) offered to carry all my gear, so I could bike faster, (b) suggested I buy a motor for my bike, or (c) trade my bike for a motor home and be their sag wagon. They don't want me to go home.
I'm still considering riding to Hempstead, TX, where Ryan's aunt lives and re-grouping there. If the weather doesn't improve dramatically between then and now, then I will head home. I just can't stand being cold all the time. It's just tearing me down. We'll see.
Time to wind it down. Gotta rest some. Talk at you tomorrow. I'm not sure where we're going tomorrow, so stayed tuned on our destination. The campgrounds are either 19 miles away or 75 miles away. I hope we do something in between. I'll let you know when I know.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Phone
By 11 a.m., the ground outside was saturated, and most of the stuff in my tent was wet. We had all decided to rent a motel in town, so we began to pack all of our wet stuff while standing in the rain. It was 40 degrees outside.
I had yet to replace the tube in my back tire, so I knew I wouldn't be able to ride anywhere until I did. The thought of standing in the rain and changing the tube was not appealing, so I asked the man who ran the RV park if he would be willing to drive me and my bike the few miles to the motel we had agreed to stay at, which was conveniently located next to -- where else -- Walmart. He agreed, so we loaded my bike and gear and left the guys behind. Sorry guys.
When I got to the motel, they had no rooms. Now what? I tried calling the guys, but no one answered their phone. A man came out of the motel and started chatting with me about my bike and the trip. I must have seemed pathetic as I groused about the motel being full, because he drove to another motel down the road, confirmed they had a room available, and came back to tell me. How nice. I was truly touched by that.
Soon thereafter, Dave rode up, so he and I went to the motel down the road and got a room, hoping the other guys would finally contact me, so I could tell them where we were. They did, and we soon headed to Walmart to shop (the guys finally got their beer). We then went to Pizza Hut and each got a large pizza.
Clean, warm, and full, I finally tackled my flat tire. It's much, much easier to change a flat inside a motel room, than on the side of the road. It's nice to be able to wash your hands afterwards.
My day off is winding down, but I don't feel particularly rested. I spent the morning so cold and tired that I never could relax. Once we got to the motel, there were constant chores to be done, including this post. Hopefully, I'll have a few hours to rest before I go to bed.
I've been getting alot of sweet comments and emails. I wish I had the time to respond to each of you individually. I don't, so I'll just tell you all right here: I appreciate your comments and encouragement and "tough love." It means alot to me that you would take the time to write to me.
The guys are being really sweet, too. While we (Ryan, Bryan, and Mike) waited for our pizzas, they (a) offered to carry all my gear, so I could bike faster, (b) suggested I buy a motor for my bike, or (c) trade my bike for a motor home and be their sag wagon. They don't want me to go home.
I'm still considering riding to Hempstead, TX, where Ryan's aunt lives and re-grouping there. If the weather doesn't improve dramatically between then and now, then I will head home. I just can't stand being cold all the time. It's just tearing me down. We'll see.
Time to wind it down. Gotta rest some. Talk at you tomorrow. I'm not sure where we're going tomorrow, so stayed tuned on our destination. The campgrounds are either 19 miles away or 75 miles away. I hope we do something in between. I'll let you know when I know.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Phone
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