Some Pictures Finally

We stopped at a coffee shop in Gulf Beach (just before Pensacola, Florida) and I wanted to take the oportunity to post some pics.

First is the first alligator roadkill we've see.

Second is the closed bridge we crossed.

Third is the ferry ride from Dauphin Island to Point Morgan accross Mobile Bay. We rode that to begin our ride today. It started raining very hard about five minutes after I snapped it.

Last is a picture of us crossing the Florida state line. No sign.

Thank you Lost Key Java!!

Day 36 Bayou La Batre, AL to Dauphin Island, AL Rest Day

June 14

Bayou La Batre, AL to Dauphin Island, AL

22 Miles
110 ft of climbing

Map:


http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=2083
(Complete)


We slept long and late. In ten days, since Austin, we rode over nine hundred miles. We figured on spending our day off in Bayou La Batre but when we finally woke up, went out, and looked around, we decided to instead ride the easy twenty to Dauphin Island were we hoped the scenery would be better.

We rode ten miles or so to Coden and shortly after found ourselves riding beside Mobile Bay. We came to a nice little park, before the bridge began to the island, and pulled in for pictures and a stretch. The leisurely pace was perfect for our "rest day".

We had a good view of the Gordon Persons Bridge which we would soon ride over. It comprises a causeway fifteen feet over the water and almost a mile long. Then there is an elevated main span rising ninety feet over the bay followed by more causeway before the island. The bridge accounted for ninety five percent of the day's climbing.

As we rode onto the island we were flagged down by a gentleman standing next to his pick-up truck on the side of the road. He introduced himself as Ron Fillingim. He told us he was a cyclist and an Adventure Cycling member. He offered us a place to shower and a backyard to pitch our tent. We thanked him for his generous offer but declined saying we were aiming for comfort on the island. He asked where we were staying and we said we hoped to stay at Dauphine House, a B&B that is cyclist friendly. He said he was familiar with it and its owner Carol Clark.

I noticed Ron had a Livestrong bracelet on his wrist and told him we were riding for the Lance Armstrong Foundation. He told us he was recovering from prostate cancer and had been off the bike for awhile. We talked a bit more and asked him for a recommendation on place to eat lunch. He directed us to a café on the golf course where he was on his way to a wedding. We wished each other good luck and off we went.

As we parked our bikes, a local constable walked up and asked us about our ride. We had a nice talk with Constable Kelly and then went inside for lunch. Shortly after we sat down a woman approached us apologizing for interrupting our lunch. She asked if we were with a group. We told her it was just us. She told us she was a massage therapist and had worked on some women that had recently come through with a group of forty five. We told her about riding for LAF and I told her about Deidre. Tears welled in her eyes and she told us her husband had died from cancer four years earlier. I wish Vicki the best.

Shortly after we sat down at Flamingo Faye's, Ron came in to say he had forgotten to ask if we needed any repairs. We said No but thanked him for the offer.

After lunch we headed over to Dauphin House. We arrived and saw, through glass French doors, a big community table set for the next meal. We knocked and entered. Dauphin House is more like an inn than a hotel or bed and breakfast.

We were greeted by Carol and we three sat and talked for awhile. She shared a couple of picture books with us documenting the destructive force of Katrina. We knew we had been riding through the disaster zone. It wasn't until we actually arrived bayside that we saw we were only four feet or so above the water level. It is almost inconceivable the storm surge was greater than twenty five feet in some places. Carol told us Dauphin Island was under four feet of water.

We asked about a dinner spot and Carol recommended we start with a beer at Pelican Pub. We unloaded the bikes into a lovely room that was, fortunately for us the last available.

We had a nice darts tournament and a relaxing afternoon.

Sunday we ride a fairly short sixty five or so to Pensacola, FL where my friend Michael will meet us.

More fun to follow!

Day 35 Poplarville, MS to Bayou La Batre, AL

June 13

Poplarville, MS to Bayou La Batre, AL

125 Miles
2310 ft of climbing

Map:


http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=2082
(Complete)

http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=2083
(Partial)


I have frequently been reminded during this trip that gifts come when you let them. This is certainly the case on our ride. Poplarville began as sanctuary from the storm and ended with our best dinner and most comfortable night yet.

I the morning, we got out at a reasonable hour and rode to breakfast at The Breakfast Connection which we had seen when we went to get dinner the night before.

We sat down and placed our orders. We came to find out this weekend is the annual Blueberry Jubilee in Poplarville. Poplarville being the blueberry capitol of the world, we were told. For breakfast we each ordered, among other things, a blueberry shortstack. The waitress asked if we wanted the blueberries in the pancakes or on top. We both said, "on top please".

A couple of minutes later, a women came out of the kitchen and asked if we were in town for the Blueberry Jubilee. I said no, but I was a little disappointed because blueberries are one of my favorites. She asked if we would like our blueberries in a sauce she could whip up. I thanked her for the offer to make a sauce and we quickly accepted.

When the pancakes were delivered, I noticed hard bits and figured them for pecan pieces, which they turned out to be. Pecans have been very popular since Eastern New Mexico. We've ridden many dozens, if not hundreds, of miles of groves. I suffer a lethal allergy to nuts, including pecans.

I asked the waitress if there were nuts in the sauce and when I explained my allergy it resulted in a burst of apologies and activity.

That was a good icebreaker. We learned our waitress's name was Megan. She was probably in her mid twenties. She asked about our ride and we explained what we were doing. She told us about her cancer diagnosis. Metastatic Melanoma. We talked about her surgeries and I told her about Deidre's. She said she had been told there was an eighty five percent chance of recurrence.

She told us one of their customers was a two time survivor that recently had a recurrence with a poor prognosis.

As I was paying the check I gave our waitress a Livestrong card with the blogsite address written on it. She said, "you know, the owner Debbie, the woman who made you the sauce, is a survivor also". The busboy said his mother was a survivor also.

We wished them all luck and went outside to get ready to ride.

As we got ready, a woman approached us. She said she heard us talking about cancer. She introduced herself as Irma Dodenhefer. She told us she had lost her husband to cancer and she herself was a three time survivor but that it was back and it didn't look good.

Irma told us she ran a produce stand in order to generate revenue to help people in need. Whether it be hungry people, sick people, or poor people. The name of her business is "The Blessing of the Harvest". Irma overflowed with generosity. She asked about our ride and commended us for our efforts. It felt good to hear coming from an authority on giving.

She wished us continued success and good luck and got in her car and put on her oxygen canula. She said she needed it all the time now but it felt good to spend five minutes without it to go in the bakery. We held each others hands, wished each other luck, and said goodbye.

It was a lovely day to ride. Mostly cloudy and cooler. Still pretty humid but cool enough there was some evaporative effect going on.

The first thirty miles were rolling hills. We came to a highway crossing where we expected to find water. Looking at the map, a town called Perkinston was identified as a food and drink stop. What you don't always see is that the little white dot marking the center of town is sometimes off route. In this case, about one and a half miles up the highway.

We looked to our right and saw something in the direction we needed to go and chose that option. Half a mile down we came to an RV park and sales lot. The fellow in the sales office was quick to tell us to help ourselves to water. We filled up and pressed on. It was another forty seven miles before services. We stopped in Vancleave to eat and fill.

Looking at the map, it was another fifty miles to Bayou La Batre where there was a place to stay for the night. It was five thirty before we finished eating and were ready to press on. I himmed and hawed and looked for a closer alternative but there was nothing but camping. Dry camping at that. The first seventy five miles of hills had left my legs feeling tired.

Facing the fact that we had another fifty to go, and that the last hour would be in the dark, we set out. Because we were at the Easternmost edge of the Central Time Zone, we expected dark around eight o'clock.

We started riding and the landscape was immediately flatter than it had been. Shortly we rode into the Pascagoula Wildlife Management Area. It was the kind of swamp land I expected to see more of in Louisiana. It was beautiful, wild, and teeming with life.

Shortly after exiting the park we crossed the Alabama State Line. One more border to cross.

We made god time to Grand Bay and pulled in to a gas station nine miles from our destination just as it was getting dark. A man rode up on a motorcycle and went in the store. When he came out he asked about our ride. Now that we can say we're twenty five hundred miles into it it tends to rock people back on their heels. He introduced himself as Tom Jones and asked for information about how to donate. He was a very nice guy and wished us luck and safety on the remainder of our ride.

On down the road we went to Bayou La Batre. We arrived, checked in, got dinner, cleaned up, and went to sleep looking forward to our first rest day since Austin.

More to come.

Day 34 Franklinton, LA to Poplarville, MS

June 12

Franklinton, LA to Poplarville, MS

52 Miles
1020 ft of climbing

Map:


http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=2082
(Partial)


After over a month of dry riding, with the exception of our ride to Fort Davis, TX, we finally saw some weather.

After a week of high mileage riding, we're moving a bit slower in the mornings. Not on the bikes, but getting ready to go.

Thursday began with me waking up early to write and taking a break just before eight o'clock to wash up and walk across the parking lot to the Laundromat to put our clothes in to wash. While I was at it I stopped at the Dollar General next door to get milk, OJ, and a few other breakfast items.

When I got back to the hotel, I made coffee and we ate breakfast in the room. As we were about ready to leave, the skies opened up in a thunderstorm downpour. We decided to wait for it to let up before setting out.

The rain came down pretty hard for about half an hour before the storm cell passed over us. It was almost eleven before we hit the road.

Our first stop was at a CVS pharmacy where I hoped to pick up a battery for my bike computer. As we got ready to leave the drugstore, a gentleman stepped up on the curb and stopped to look at our bikes. He asked a few questions explaining he was a cyclist. We had a pleasant chat with him when I noticed a piece of jewelry around his neck that looked like the Ironman logo. I asked him about it and sure enough, he was a triathlete.

I introduced myself and he introduced himself as Raymond Miller, from Poplarville. He had recently returned from the ITU (International Triathlon Union) World Championships in Vancouver, British Columbia. I received a bid to go to worlds a couple of years ago but it was due to a technicality and I prefer earning my slot to an event requiring qualification.

We talked tri for awhile. He told me about fifty three degree water and three foot seas. Brrrrr. That's hand, foot, and head numbing water. He said he had also raced Ironman in Florida.

We had a really nice talk and exchanged e-mail addresses. We told him about our ride and gave him the blogsite address. He wished us the best of luck and looked over our route while telling us about the roads. We would be riding the roads he trains on.

As we rode off I told Chris how significant it is to qualify for worlds. My hat goes off to Raymond.

Every time a donation is made to the Lance Armstrong Foundation, using the link on the blogsite, I receive an e-mail. Raymond made his visit before dinner time. It was fun talking tri. I felt a kinship, a brotherhood of sorts with Raymond and I wish him luck in his future endeavors.

We left town not knowing exactly where we were going to stop for the night. We had hoped for a relatively low mileage day, in the sixty range, but the distances of various towns would give us either fifty or so to Poplarville, Mississippi or around eighty to Perkinston and another five, off route, for a place to stay.

We figured one town at a time was the way to go.

The night before was a ramen in the room night and we were feeling undernourished and woefully short on calories.

After about twenty five miles we came to Bogalusa, LA and stopped at Glynn's for lunch. It was cool, clean, and super good and friendly. After lunch, I managed to change yet another spoke without even removing the wheel from my bike, much less removing the tire. I am really tired of my rear wheel problems.

Having been caught out once before, in Round Top, saved only by the kindness and fortunate presence of Lenore Prud'Homme, we have learned to confirm the night's lodging during business hours.

I Googled lodging in Poplarville and found nothing at all. The way the skies were looking I was anxious to find something before Perkinston just in case. I looked on the back of the map and there was a guest cottage listed with a phone number. I called the number and it was answered by a lady at a retail store in town who introduced herself as Pam. I told her we were two cyclists who might need a place to stay in Poplarville that night. She said her parents had a guest cottage and she would call them to check availability and call us back. She called back in a couple of minutes to say it was available and give us directions. She said the door would be unlocked and gave me her father's number to call when we arrived.

We left from lunch and stopped at a service station for water on our way out of town. While we filled our bottles, the clouds opened up again. We waited for a break in the weather and off we went.

After no more than ten miles we were riding down a fairly straight farm road and looking down it, we could see the wall of rain coming. We found the thickest overhead growth we could and took refuge just as the rain hit. I have seen heavier in Ohio, Delaware, and Key Largo, but never from a bike saddle. We waited about twenty minutes and decided w might as well get going. The air temperature was around seventy degrees and pretty pleasant but a bit cool not riding. The rain continued as we began riding again but the activity warmed us right up.

Fifteen miles or so and about an hour of riding brought us to our place of refuge. It was wonderful. A lovely little three bedroom house complete with central air conditioning, satellite TV, how about those Celtics last night, a washer and dryer, and a fridge stocked with drinks.

I called the phone number Pam had provided and after a few minutes the owner, Bob Applewhite, came over to meet us and chat. Bob is a very friendly man and after settling up on the nightly fee (seventy five dollars) he insisted we use his truck to go have dinner. He recommended a couple of places, including an Italian restaurant.

We showered, relaxed a little, and headed for Deb's Pizza and Pasta. We ordered take out to bring back and watch the game. We ate a huge dinner of absolutely excellent food.

Then it was off to bed.

Day 33 St. Francisville, LA to Franklinton, LA

June 11

St. Francisville, LA to Franklinton, LA

97 Miles
2455 ft of climbing

Map:


http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=1977
(Completed)

http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=2082
(Partial)


Wednesday was a ride with towns few and far between. We got a late start but made great time the first thirty miles. We're back to rolling hills on the East side of the Mississippi. Nothing too painful but certainly wearing over the course of the day and a hundred miles.

The maps we're using, from Adventure Cycling, have very specific route directions and information. There are current corrections available for downloading from their website with information updated monthly.

Before leaving Santa Fe I downloaded and printed the addendums for our route. Included in the addendum for the map of Wednesday's ride was a note that the bridge over Thompson Creek is out. There is a pretty significant reroute included.

When we went to the gas station, next door to the motel, for water, I asked if they knew anything about the Thompson Creek bridge being out. The woman said, "Thompson Creek? It's right down here and it's up". We thought, great, we can ride the original route.

We headed off down the road and sure enough we rode over Thompson Creek after five or six miles. It was another great ride day and the scenery was beautiful.

On we rode. The towns with services (gas stations) were about thirty miles apart. We were about eight miles from our first water stop when the map gave a direction by noting "turn right to stay on pavement". Just after the turn we saw a sign that said "Bridge Out". Evidently we crossed Thompson Creek twice, fifteen miles apart. The bridge out warning on the map and on the sign both applied to the second crossing. I looked more closely at the map and it would be a ten or twelve mile back track to ride around the creek crossing.

We decided to ride down to the bridge and see how bad it was. We figured that in the worst case we would find a deep black water crossing (think Alligators) or a bridge crossing a deep gorge. Depending on the reality we could ssibly unload the bikes and portage everything across.

After a mile or so we came to the bridge.

Don't tell our Moms (or my daughter) about what we did next.

The bridge was a twisted steel superstructure on wood pilings with creosote soaked cross timbers paved with planks. The planks were all there except for the last ten feet or so. We climbed over the dirt berm that had been placed in the road in front of the span, to keep cars off, and walked the bikes out one at a time.

The bridge did not feel rickety at all and the footing was firm. The twisted, rusted steel looked like it wouldn't last much longer though. We unloaded the bikes and carried the panniers (saddle bags) over the section without cross planks with one of us on the far end while the other crossed. We finally shouldered our bikes and crossed with them one at a time. Success! The pictures tell the story. I wish I could post them but that will have to wait. We felt like real adventurers.

I am confounded and greatfull we've somehow managed to elude the rain. During one of our stops a fellow coming from New Orleans told us it had rained three inches in an hour there on Wednesday.

The rest of the ride was uneventful but after our second stop, at sixty miles, it began feeling long. Two hundred and twenty miles in two days of hot, humid riding brings fatigue.

Thursday we aim for Mississippi.

Stay tuned.

Day 32 Opelousas, LA to St. Francisville, LA

June 10

Opelousas, LA to St. Francisville, LA

124.5 Miles
853 ft of climbing

Map:


http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=1973
(Completed)

http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=1977
(Partial)


Opelousas gave us both some much needed sleep and good meals. Chris got almost eleven hours and I wasn't far off from that myself.

We woke with high hopes of having a big day. I didn't want expectations to be too great but we talked about St. Francisville. St. Francisville was approximately 112 miles from Washington, on the map, and as it turned out, we were almost nine miles off route in Opelousas.

We started with a giant breakfast. I had a shrimp and crawfish omelet and blueberry pancakes. Yum, yum. My Cajun omelet was excellent!

We pedaled out under cloudy skies and immediately were riding fast. It was cooler all day but we were sweat drenched from the first mile as usual. Everywhere we stopped people commented on the heat.

Acadiana is a very friendly place. It comprises twenty two parishes originally settled by the French Acadians (French who originally settled in the Anapolis Basin of Nova Scotia and the Bay of Fundy in Canada). In Louisiana they came to be called Cajuns. The state officially designated the region Acadiana in 1971.

The riding is flat, the people are friendly, the sun was hidden by clouds, and we motored along.

One thing I will say that can be a challenge, and we agreed we encountered to the greatest extent in Acadiana is unfenced, unleashed dogs.

You learn to be alert to barking and motion in your peripheral vision. When either happens, it's a full head swivel to determine where it's coming from. Fortunately we didn't encounter any viscous dogs but there were plenty of fast ones. It's amazing how quick some of the small to medium sized dogs are. I would sometimes look at my speedometer while being given full chase and see we were going twenty two or twenty three miles per hour.

There was very little auto traffic but my biggest fear was that on the rare occasion there was both a dog chasing us and a car on the road the two would meet. That never works out well for the dog. I used hand signals the two times it happened in an effort to warn cars about a dog they might not see.

It worked out being in front because by the time the dog(s) stopped chasing me they were too spent to chase Chris. Chris was not out of my sight all day.

The homes we rode past, whether modest ranch style newer houses, or shanties, had immaculately manicured lawns. They were huge. Some front lawns could fit two football fields with room left over for a baseball diamond. We waved at plenty of people mowing as we passed. They must have to mow every other or every third day at most.

It is obvious people take great pride in their parish and well they should.

We rode past fields of Rice, Sweet Corn, Sorghum, Soy Beans, and Sugar Cane. The landscape could be a county in Ireland for all the shades of green.

According to the weather reports it's been dry here and they are hoping for rain. The farmers don't use irrigation and rely on rainfall to water their crops.

It is absolutely beautiful countryside with meandering rivers and the occasional swamp. Contrary to my expectations of very swampy, wet bayou country, the areas we rode through are relatively dry and thoroughly cultivated.

We had a rocking first fifty miles. We rode it in under three hours averaging over seventeen miles per hour.

When we came to a town called Plaucheville we stopped for lunch. In each region we've ridden through the lunchtime ritual differs. In Acadiana, it is common for a gas station to have a grill. We pulled into one such place that was particularly busy. Maybe because it was the only lunch spot in town.

In the twenty two hundred miles we've ridden so far, we have not been to a friendlier place. We got not one sideways glance as we walked in. Everyone had a welcoming smile and good word for us. From the farmers to the local librarian. It was noontime and business was at its peak.

We ordered at the counter and took a seat in a booth. I wasn't yet seated when the woman in the next both turned around with a smile and said she and her husband had driven past us up the road. She asked where we had come from and where we were going. They were very supportive and nice, she and her husband.

As our lunch baskets were delivered. They do grilled OR fried shrimp po-boy sandwiches. Not to mention oyster. Das sum good eats uh-huh.

A group of three women got up to leave. One of them was a younger girl who was wearing a tee shirt with a graphic promoting books and reading and my first thought was they were associated with the library. One of the women stopped and asked if we were fundraising for Livestrong. Very perceptive of her. Impressive to me.

She introduced herself as Mary Chaterain (she pronounced it Shotley and I had to ask her to spell it. Hopefully I got it right). She said she was involved with the Relay for Life (an ACS event) in the area. She told us about the library organizing a contest for designing a tee shirt for the event. She said the winning design earned it's maker one hundred dollars and then one hundred shirts were made to give to participating survivors.

She said she was familiar with Livestrong and the Lance Armstrong Foundation because of literature they had received at the library. It has been uncommon to meet people familiar with the foundation and its mission.

She told me she was originally from Michigan and she and several friends from there continue to get together for a few days every summer. She said six of them are survivors of one kind of cancer or another. Their time together sounds like a real celebration of life.

Mary pulled out a twenty dollar bill and insisted we take it.

I felt so welcomed I thought if only I had a French surname I could live in a place like this.

We rode away from lunch on a real high. We felt that way all day. Everywhere we stopped we were greeted by friendly people starting in the parking lot and continuing to the cash register.

We have seen every species of road kill imaginable. First squirrels and raccoons, then the occasional bobcat, snakes in the desert, opossum everywhere, deer, dogs, birds from predator to songbird, then hundreds of miles of armored opossum (armadillo). As the climate became more damp we saw frogs and turtles. Yesterday we saw our first alligator. What will be next?

We made our way to the Mississippi River and crossed on a ferry to St. Francisville. Yahoo! We crossed Ole Miss. We stopped at the first place we saw for dinner. Would you believe Mexican?

We rode on up the hill to St. Francisville and found our place for the night. St. Francisville is definitely a town to visit again. Very well kept, friendly, and with a very comfortable feeling.

It was a glorious day. Big miles and fast. We averaged better than sixteen miles per hour for one hundred and twenty plus miles. Rocking! We rode our first hundred in under six hours.

On we go.

Day 31 Oberlin, LA to Opelousas, LA

June 9

Oberlin, LA to Opelousas, LA

64 Miles
123 ft of climbing

Map:


http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=1965
(Completed)

http://www.mapitpronto.com/index.cfm?fuseAction=routePlanner.viewDBRide&rideID=1973
(Partial)


Today started well enough. It was cloudy and felt cooler to me. We had breakfast at the Tiger's Den Café and hit the road.

I felt good from the beginning. We were riding at a pretty good clip. Chris was probably riding one mile per hour slower from the beginning of the day.

Our first stop was at twenty seven miles and it only took a few minutes for Chris to catch up.

Beginning in the mountains of California, whoever reached the summit of a climb first would wait there. Since we've been in flatter terrain, I've usually ridden in front and I wait at any turns.

Today, about seven miles after leaving our first stop I waited at a turn and Chris rode right past me with his head down. I had to race up to him and stop him. He said he was zoned out.

We rode another twelve miles down the road and I stopped at a turn. I eventually turned on my phone and started looking into getting a new rear wheel sent to me somewhere down the road. Killing time waiting for Chris.

After half an hour I feared maybe Chris had broken down. Yesterday a similar thing happened and it was a flat. It only delayed him fifteen minutes. Even though he has most of the tools, I'm the fixer. I figured since I carry the kitchen, he can carry the garage.

I started backtracking and rode back around the turn at the apex of which I had stopped. I saw Chris sitting in the shade at an abandoned gas station with his rear wheel in his lap.

He had flatted and when he changed it he noticed he had a broken spoke. He was not sure what to do. I showed him how to do the repair. He seemed a little sluggish.

We got things together and started pedaling. In the first mile he dropped several hundred yards back. I stopped and waited for him and when he rolled up I asked him if he was OK. He said yes. I asked him if the bike was OK. He said yes. I asked him if he needed something to eat. He said he had a Power Bar and took it out and ate it. I told him to drink a lot of water with it.

I told him he had been going eleven miles per hour (his bike computer has never worked). I said we had to do better than that to miss the giant storm moving right over us. We were headed to the North for a few miles and the storm was moving West with its northern edge just in front of us. We were only seven Mlles from our planned lunch stop and given how Chris was feeling I was anxious to get somewhere we would have shelter. As it happened we rode right past the storm catching only some very light fringe showers.

I was ready to eat and ride hard but once we sat down and I had a chance to asses things with Chris I knew that wasn't going to happen. He was asleep in his chair with his eyes open. I pulled out the map.

We had stopped in Washington, La, a typically sized town on the route with a population of seventeen hundred (nowhere to stay). I looked at the map and saw Opelousas five or six miles South. Nineteen thousand people. Easy pickens for a hotel shopper.

I found a hotel, with the browser on my phone, and asked Chris how he felt. "I'm so tired", he said. I said, "fifty miles to Simmesport or five off route and call it a day.

We had lunch and headed for Opelousas.

The heat must be getting to Chris. I'm pretty comfortable riding in it.

We shall see what tomorrow brings.

It could be my turn to fall asleep at the wheel.