Day Forty Five: ruminating, six miles out, rowes

I was awakened at 6AM by a screaming fight between a mother and her daughter. I guess 6:00 is as good a time to get up as any other.

Looking at the map, I strongly considered getting off the ACA route and making a straight shot to Jacksonville. That means I'd stay on busier roads and miss the coast altogether. I've already bought my airline ticket and there's a lot of uncertainty when you're riding a bike... bad weather, illness, bike problems... (speaking of which, Klaus caught a cold and spent three days in DeRidder. He's feeling much better, though not 100%.) Eventually, though, I finally decided to stay on the route, at least loosely.

Tonight I'll be camping. If I want to stay in a hotel, I'll need to ride 92 miles.

When I called the campground in Vancleave I was told the cost for a campsite is $30.00. That seemed pretty steep, then he added, "For another ten dollars you can stay in one of the cabins."

Heading south out of Franklinton, Highway 49 had a nice, wide shoulder....

Then nothing. It just stopped.

The traffic was so bad that I pedaled on the grass/rocks for a bit, but when I noticed I was going 3 mph and getting slower I got back on the highway.

After another mile there was a sliver of a shoulder. Six miles later I was finally back on the ACA route. Two miles after that I started relaxing. I didn't even realize how tense I'd been for the last two days. Now, on a deserted farm road, I felt like I was the only person for miles in either direction, probably because I WAS the only person for miles in either direction.

It was QUIET again.

I don't know where they find these roads, but it's apparent they've done some research.

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

Now that I don't have to worry about playing tag with the trucks I start ruminating. That's what I do when I ride alone... take a thought and chew on it like a cow chews on its cud. (I guess you could say my mind is like the first of a cow's four stomachs)

NOT because of my cow's stomach brain, I missed a turn. It was unmarked and after waiting at the corner for a couple of minutes trying to determine if this was indeed where I was supposed to turn, I went straight. About a mile and a half later I stopped at an intersection which had street names and realized I should've turned.

Another good indicator that I was on the wrong road was the guy about a hundred yards up the side road. He was waving his arms and yelling, "This is MY road! This is MY road!" to no one in particular. My maps didn't mention anything about a crazy guy.

On the way back I stopped at the Forest Research Station to verify where I was and learned that the hurricane blew down a lot of street signs and not all of them have been replaced.

During the past month I've noticed a lot of mobile homes, and have made a couple of observations:

1) Mobile homes are not mobile. Once they're planted they stay there until there's a hurricane or a divorce.
2) Regardless of how fancy, humble, or trashy the mobile home is, they ALL have a satellite dish.

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

I could go on and on.

Here's a picture of the US and Mississippi flags.... on my right.

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

Some pictures along the way.

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

Excluding Perkinston, where I got back on the ACA route, there wasn't a place to stop for almost fifty miles after leaving Wiggins, not even a hole-in-the-wall convenience store at an intersection. I was getting pretty tired and hungry by the end. Seven miles before Vancleave I stopped at the Fort Bayou convenience store and talked to Yvonne for a while, then pedaled into Vancleave.

Yvonne told me the only place to eat in town is Six Miles Out. When she was giving me directions I didn't have the benefit of being able to see that it's a proper noun instead of a distance, and I was dreading having to ride that far just to eat. "After I turn at the post office, it's six miles out??" I finally got it, and was glad it wasn't named An Hour and a Half.

At 3:00 I stopped for "lunch."

If you recall, on Day Thirty I met Jim and Mary Rowe at the barbecue place in Blanco, Texas. They kindly offered me a place to stay at their place in Ocean Springs, Mississippi. I didn't think I'd be going that far south but yesterday when I looked at the map I found I was within 15 miles so I emailed them.

At the cafe I checked my email and saw that Jim had responded with a cell number and a request to give him a call. When I talked to him he said he could pick me up today and bring me back to the same place tomorrow morning. Vancleave is "on the way home, just a little bit north." (Later I looked on the map. He was being generous.) An hour later Jim pulled up and we loaded my bike and gear into the back of his van.

Jim and Mary live in Ocean Springs. Their house is planted in the middle of the city, yet it seems like it's out in the country. It was designed by a man named Carroll Ishee, an ex-lawyer who began designing houses.

With bedroom walls that don't go up to the ceiling and an open floor plan, Ishee's houses have a wide open feeling. Many of the exterior walls are glass, which contributes to the nice airy feeling.

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

On the way into town I was given a tour of the area. From Jim, I learned about what it's like to live in hurricane alley. People here are a little twitchy during hurricane season. You have to be able to pick up and go at the drop of a hat. When a hurricane threatens to come within striking distance, the Rowes fit plates of corrugated steel over their windows. After a storm the plates tend to stay up for a while (you never know when the next one will come), then come off in a piecemeal fashion.

The fact that New Orleans got all of the press after the storm is somewhat of a sore point among many Mississippians. Katrina actually made landfall at the border of Louisiana and Mississippi, and as you know, it's the area EAST of the eye that receives most of the damage. Much of New Orleans' flooding occured AFTER the storm when the levees holding back Lake Pontchartrain failed.

The Mississippi coast received the brunt of the storm and parts of it were completely obliterated. During the tour of the area, Jim showed me vacant lot after vacant lot where there had been buildings (sometimes historic old homes). Now there was nothing.

Katrina displaced a large number of people and, shortly after the storm, a lot of mobile homes were brought in and set up. Apparently, there was some type of problem with formaldehyde in them, causing people to get sick. So, they started building "Katrina Cottages."

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

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As you can see, they're about the same size as a mobile home, but not quite the eyesore. Although they were supposed to be temporary some of then are still around.

Here's a picture of a shrimping boat. There are fewer and fewer of these each year.

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

Mary and Irene (Mary's mother) already had plans for the evening so I wasn't able to visit with them for very long. Irene was doing what every 92-year-old loves to do... go out for pizza.

No, wait. That's what Jim and I did.

She went gambling, of course!! At 92, you can do whatever the hell you want, so she and Mary stayed the night at one of the casinos.

Jim and I spent a pleasant evening talking and eating some great pizza at The Mellow Mushroom.

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

From Mark on a Bike 08 2

54.21 miles
12.7 average
28.0 maximum
4:14:46 time
2238.6 total