Southern US/2-2025

We stayed at False River Park last evening. It was a nice park, and we had a relaxing afternoon and evening. We started settling in for the night around 9:30 and were just about asleep when a police officer pulled in and turned on his lights to let us know who he was. He flashed a bright flashlight into our bus, and soon there was a knock on the driver’s window. I went to the door and opened it to talk with him. He wanted to know if we were okay. I told him we were planning to spend the night in the park and asked if that would be allowed. He said he had no problem with it and just wanted to make sure we were fine. He was very courteous and left. The problem was that I was just drifting off to sleep when he pulled in, and I had a pretty tough time falling asleep again. To say the least, I had a rough night—and so did Dana.

We both woke early this morning and spent some time making coffee and slowly getting ready for the day. There were several things we needed, so I had Jeremy prepare them and send them to Oberlin, La., where we would pick them up. There is some rain in the forecast for Friday, and in an effort to get some extra miles so we’re closer on Friday, I decided to tackle a longer day today and tomorrow, leaving a shorter day on Friday. I rolled out of the park before 7:30 this morning. It was going to be a good day.

SR 1 was a decent road, and the miles clicked by. I was about 10 miles out when I saw a cyclist approaching on the other side of the road. We stopped and chatted for a while. Tim, from Oregon, had started in San Diego and was headed to St. Augustine. He asked about some camping sites as he got closer to Baton Rouge and New Orleans. I couldn’t help him much with that but chatted about getting chased by dogs and other fun things. I pulled out my phone and took a pic of him before we parted ways. I returned my phone to the holder on the bike and headed out.

Several miles later, I approached a work area on a bridge. I had been listening to a book, and all of a sudden the earbuds went silent. I looked at my phone and realized it was no longer in the holder. I must not have tightened the holder properly, and the phone had bounced out somewhere behind me. I was already on the bridge—a very narrow bridge. I stopped, waited until there was no traffic, and turned around to see if I could find the rebellious phone. I figured it couldn’t be too hard to find as it shouldn’t be far back. I biked the area several times but couldn’t find it. So, I headed out, hoping to find someone with a phone I could borrow to call Dana.

At the other end of the bridge, there were three workers, and I asked if I could borrow a phone to call my wife. I explained that I had lost my phone. One of them was super gracious, unlocked his phone, and I called Dana. She used the Find My app to locate the phone. She said it was before the bridge but couldn’t pinpoint it. I found someone else to call her a second time. By then, she was already on her way back to help in the search. I waited until she arrived, borrowed her phone, and basically walked right to it. The sad part was that I must have ridden past it several times without noticing. The screen protector was pretty chipped, but the phone worked just fine. Thank God for the app and a patient wife. This whole episode took the better part of an hour. Was it still going to be a good day?

I headed out for Simmesport, our agreed-upon meeting place. It was about 41 miles out from New Roads, and I hoped to get closer to 60 miles today. I was about 5 miles from Simmesport when I passed a work crew, and one of them yelled at me, asking if I’d found my phone. I stopped, and sure enough, it was the gracious man who had lent me his phone to call Dana. We chatted a bit, and as I took off, several more guys cheered, and I realized they were also the guys working on the bridge. Their “whoops” somehow lifted my spirits.

I finally arrived at Simmesport and met Dana there. It was hot, so we went into a gas station, a mini truck stop. Dana asked if I was going to call it a day or go on to Cottonport. I told her I wouldn’t know until I cooled off and grabbed something to eat. We ordered several meat and veggie skewers for lunch and drank some chocolate milk. I had another 17 miles to go and told her I’d tackle it—I mean, why not?

I headed out on SR 1, and it was horrible. It had a wide shoulder, but it was bumpy, so I rode on the road as much as I could until traffic approached from behind, then hit the shoulder again. I had 7.5 miles of this until I was finally directed to a country road that was much better. I had to remind myself that the road was still better than the nasty, rocky road we encountered in rural Arkansas on our Mississippi River ride in 2023—or the Sunrise Trail in eastern Maine during our East Coast trip in 2021. It was time to grin and bear it. I did—well, not the grinning part. I did have several dogs chase me today, but a good blast of my handy dandy air horn and they decided they had better things to do.

By the time I arrived, I was hot and tired. Remember the song "Sound of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel? I wrote an additional verse that goes something like, "Hello, Ibuprofen, my old friend, I've come to see you again..." I was glad to have completed the trip and even more glad it was over. I cleaned up and tried to rest a bit. We are currently sitting in the convenience store/restaurant, cooling off, and will be ordering dinner soon.

As I reflect on a rather difficult day, I’m reminded that there are good people willing to help a stranger in need. I also saw an absolutely beautiful flowering bush several miles out. I had to stop and take a picture because I needed to be reminded that even tough days have moments of beauty. I just needed to stop and remind myself.

Tomorrow is another 60-ish mile day. It’s going to be another good day. :-)Leia mais