Wednesday, March 16^th 2005

We first thought of visiting Texas in the fall of 2004 after returning from our bike tour in Indiana. Surely the weather in the southern US would be well suited for cycling in late winter or early spring. After months of research, Bec devises a route from Houston TX to New Orleans LA. We always seem to find the lowest fare with Southwest Airlines and taking the tandem on the plane has never been a problem, until now. On March 1^st SWA changed their baggage size and weight limits to 62” combined height + length + width and lowered the weight to 51 lbs per unit. The luggage we use will obviously be over the limits and cost us an additional $50 per unit each way so we have to scramble for an alternative. Fortunately, our friends at U-Haul have a box that is very close to the size we need. The boxes do require some minor modifications, which makes Louie happy because he gets to use his hot glue gun. The boxes happen to be easier to pack than luggage, and they should hold up better to the airport gorillas. We plan on sending our custom made boxes ahead to New Orleans via UPS after arriving in Houston.  That way  we’ll have them for the return trip home.

Our flight has a couple of stops that make it seem a lot longer than it really is. Louie  nods off during the flight while Bec reads her tabloids. Louie daydreams about what folks in Texas will be like. As the plane continues to pick up passengers in Salt Lake City and Albuquerque, we notice more folks saying things like “yall” and “fixin to”.  We also notice more people wearing cowboy hats and Wrangler jeans. It is becoming just what we had imagined. But, Boy Howdy, is our bubble ever popped! Soon as we get off the plane, we get a Somalian Cab driver who is an American Idol wanna-be. Our hotel staff is Asian and when we go out to eat at a Tex-Mex café the owner is obviously from India.  So far Houston demonstrates itself to be a very culturally diverse, far from the gun-slinging cowboys we expected. Silly us.

Thursday, March 17^th

We start our day off with a below average continental breakfast, courtesy of our hotel.  If we want a real breakfast we should go across the street to the I-Hop.  If only they have doughnuts…. Louie would be happy. We head out to a to a pharmacy to get Bec a new blood sugar tester.  The one she brought had broken the day before and it is less expensive to buy a new one than stay in the hotel another night waiting for a replacement to arrive. Now that we have all of our pieces, we are ready for our Johnson Space Center visit.  There is a long line at the main entrance, which seems odd because it is a weekday. We find the shocking truth - it is spring break here and we are caught in the middle of the largest concentration of screaming kids in all of Texas. We had purchased tickets in advance so there is no turning back. Bec is good at dealing with the little ones so Louie just follows her as she elbows her way through the crowds. The Johnson Space Center is where astronauts have been training for decades. All sorts of space apparatus are on display with many actual spacecraft and training modules. We see the historic mission control room where twenty-one manned missions played out including the lunar landings and Apollo 13. It looks just like it did in the movie. The interpreter tells us that all of the computers in the room combined did not have the computing capabilities of a common PC of today. They had no email so they used vacuum tubes extensively to relay notes back and fourth so the engineers and scientist would get all the information that was required at mission control. Because of the long hours spent in the secure area, sandwiches and sodas were also frequently delivered via those same vacuum tubes- can’t do that with email.  Of all the things we see, we are most impressed by the life size mock up of the international space station. It even includes a life size shuttle.  The whole display spreads out about the size of a football field. There are a few theaters and several interactive displays, but we like the life size training modules of Skylab and all of the re-entry vehicles better.  Bicycles play an important role in the space program and are used for transportation on the NASA campus, which has over one hundred buildings and fourteen thousand employees. We see several people riding and even more bikes parked in front of almost every building. Bicycle trainers are standard equipment on space stations and there are two examples in the training modules. Even as we exit the space center there are large signs that say, “Share the road-Bicycles are vehicles”. Hey, if it’s good enough for NASA, it’s good enough for us.

Friday, March 18th

85 miles, 8 hrs and 7 minutes, average speed 10.5, max 25.8, 1000 feet of climbing. 

We know we have a long ride so we start out very early, using the bike lights for about an hour.  Traffic is light at this hour, and we are traveling the opposite direction of the weekday commuters.  The cars that pass us show their politeness by using the other lane to pass.  This theme continues throughout the day. Most of the roads are smooth with a wide shoulder.  At one point we encounter a stretch of road that appears to be covered with glass but soon realize that it is a crystalline material embedded into the blacktop.

Soon the wind becomes the enemy dropping our speed from 14 to less than 10 for the next 50 miles.  Although the terrain is flat, there are some small climbs on the bridges that cross the many bayous and rivers we encounter. We pause on top of one to enjoy the view and take a picture or two.  After many hours of battling the headwind, we grow increasingly hungry.  The area is devoid of services with the only signs of civilization being several large chemical plants off in the distance.  We finally roll into a town and stop at a place called, Nico’s Diner.  They have an all you can eat buffet so we take full advantage of it. We both load our food trays full with everything including salads and desert. Bec manages to smuggle out a couple of pieces of cornbread for a snack later. 

We reach the end of farm road 2004 where we are suppose to turn but instead continue a short distance to a county park so we can dip our toes into the Gulf of Mexico. The fee to enter the beach is $8.00 but the lady in the booth lets us in free because we are on a bike. She tells us the area we are riding through is called the Chemical Coastline and has the highest concentration of chemical plants of anyplace in America. She continues pointing out landmarks, like a nerve gas storage facility and an off shore oil drilling platform. We have her take our picture without the gas mask and protective clothing required to stay in the area for any length of time. We’ll call this a “before” photo.

Back on the road we are now heading due east giving us a tailwind causing our speed to pick back up which makes the miles go by faster.   As we ride through Galveston, we notice all the houses are on stilts.  At a grocery store we ask the clerk about the stilts.  She tells us that in September they sometimes have water up to 5 feet deep caused by hurricanes and tropical storms. 

Inching ever closer to our campground, we see the houses become more extravagant in their design, but they are still perched high above the reach of storm surges.  Windows are covered with metal doors and roofs are made to resist high winds.  Every so often we see a house that could not hold its own to Mother Nature, in that it lies in ruins to remind everyone just how furious the weather can get here. 

We arrive at Galveston State Park.  It is late and there are only a couple hours of daylight left so we check in, wasting waste no time pitching camp and cooking dinner.  But we are fast becoming dinner for the local mosquitoes.  It has been a long day for us – 85 miles, 50 of which was into a headwind, carrying about a ton of camping gear including a battery powered bug zapper and our new laptop computer.  Tonight the bonus will be watching a DVD of The Incredibles that Louie found on the roadside while zapping bugs in the tent. 

Saturday, March 19th

63.8 miles, 5hours and 32 minutes, average 11.5, max 32.3, 460 feet of climbing. 

We awake at what Bec calls oh:dark30 which is actually closer to 6:00 AM.  Louie just lets the alarm run out while Bec hops out of the tent to makes a B-Line to the ladies room.  When she comes back, she kicks the tent a couple of times and says, “Get up. We have a long way to go today so you had best get up and help break camp.”  She visits with a caravan group from Quebec while she makes coffee.  It turns out it takes us bike campers the same amount of time to break camp as the RV people.  We all end up leaving the park at the same time.  The caravan group gets a kick out of our just married sign on the back of our trailer and toots their horns as they pass us on the highway just after exiting the camp ground. 

As we enter Galveston proper, we are able to ride right alongside the Ocean on a multi-use path, but it isn’t long before we have to get back out on the road because there are too many people, dogs, four wheeled surreys, strollers, runners, walkers, kids, surfers, and people carrying fishing poles out to one of the many man-made jetties.  We enjoy the ride even from the road.  We make a quick stop in town for a latte, camping supplies, and a USB adapter for our funky old camera, but end up buying a new camera instead.

We get in line for the ferry trip off the island. After the ferry is under way, the captain comes down to visit. He tells us he regularly bike commutes and asks our route.  He warns us not to ride on Highway 87 because it has deteriorated and is covered with sand.  We assure him we will not attempt it because of our heavy load though he says it can be done on a bike with fat tires and no trailer.   

For the next 30 miles we have to contend with a head wind again but not as bad as yesterday. After reaching the turn that keeps us off Highway 87 we turn north which gives us a strong tail wind. We finish out the day cruising between 18 and 20 miles per hour.

Because the highway is littered with Mardi-Gras beads, Louie stops the tandem a few times to pick some up to use for bike decorations.  When we stop to refresh ourselves, we get a strange look from our server when we order an apple fritter, one bowl of oatmeal and two diet cokes instead of dinner.  The server obviously has never ridden long hard miles and does not understand that it causes the oddest food cravings. 

 In the town of Winnie, Bec spots a hotel for an unbelievable $25.00 per night. It is only a few dollars more than the RV Park where we were going to stay.  Since there is a threat of thundershowers overnight, we decide to stay inside for the evening. The room we get is about what you would expect for the price. Only two lights work, duct tape holds on the inside doorknob, and the walls really need paint. Other than that it is great! We have cable TV, laundry, and a phone line that we will use to get on-line. Tragically this story ends when Bec returns from the laundry room only to find one of our matching tandem socks is missing. Hopefully this town has a grief counselor.

Sunday, March 20^th

81.1 miles, 7 hours and 10 minutes, average 11.3, max 29.9, 560 feet of climbing.

It’s a Sunday and we’re up at the crack of dawn. This is vacation? Bec saunters off to scrounge up some breakfast and returns with the best the corner gas station has to offer - dated sausage biscuits, a cinnamon roll, cereal and coffee. Ah, this is the life. Huge puddles in front of our room are evidence of heavy rain last night. Staying indoors was a right decision. 

We pedal out of Winnie wondering why more folks aren’t cycling down here. It's flat, the people are great, the scenery is terrific, and the wildlife is, well, wild.  We are following roads with signage that says “The Great Texas Birding Trail”.  On quiet country roads we see a variety of birds that are used to cars, but when they see the two-headed bike, they get spooked and take off. The same can be said for turtles and frogs. It's non-stop action on the roadside and Louie remarks “it’s just like a National Geographic program on PBS”.  The wildlife show ebbs and flows as we pass through groupings of chemical plants and refineries interspersed between the wetlands. Everything is green from the rains.  The vegetation goes through stages of wetland plants, scrubby trees, tall trees, pasturelands, and scruffy plants poking up through the pavement around the chemical plants. 

We see another bridge far in the distance.  It looks much like the Longview Bridge between Washington and Oregon in that it goes way high up in the air.  Since everything is so flat, we get to observe it for a long time.  On the bridge there is very little shoulder, but everyone is polite and gives us enough room.  Louie remarks, “Texas folks are tickled by tandems,” as we get another friendly honk and wave after cresting the top of the bridge.  We stop for pictures at the top because there are not many places in Texas to get this kind of view. 

We get our maximum speed for the day as we descend.   

After cycling 20 miles without seeing so much as a gas station, we come to a market that is like an oasis in the bayou.  Not knowing what to expect for the next 50 miles, we stock up our goodie supply and have apple pie and ice cream.  We finish out our Texas portion of the ride with a short pedal through the Texas Point Wildlife Refuge.  Looking out into the Gulf of Mexico, we see a city skyline that is actually the skeleton of chemical processing plants.  

The road changes abruptly.  The six-foot shoulder we have become accustomed to having throughout most of Texas disappears.  A motorcycle rider pulls off the road and dons a helmet.  We realize we’ve just entered Louisiana. 

We stop at a park where there are several people fishing.  The same motorcyclist we saw up the road pulls alongside us and asks about our travels.  We tell him we are going to Cameron tonight and he says, “There is not much to see between here and there.”  This guy must be blind.  The waters on both sides of the road are alive with all kinds of animals.  Birds call out to us warning us of the dangers that lurk in the water.  Bec says, “Louie, that is an alligator over there.”  Louie scoffs, “There are no alligators here. It is just a big fish or a turtle.”  “No, it is one, I swear!  Just then Louie lets out a yelp.  There in the road is a 4- foot alligator that met its match with a car.  The road we are on is part of the Creole Nature Trail.  Because of all the birds and animals, except for those pesky mosquitoes, it is one of the best rides we have ever done. 

We finally arrive in Cameron and search for a place to stay.  We ride out to an RV park to find out it is private and we are not allowed to camp.  Back in town we find a small motel, and go to dinner.  After our adventures with the alligators beside the road, Bec decides to eat alligator for dinner.  It really is delicious.  On our way back to the motel we get cornered by one of the locals wanting to know all about the tandem.  The people in both Texas and Louisiana are wonderful.  They continue to give us plenty of room on the road along with a friendly wave or beep.  Riding here has got to be one of the best-kept secrets around.

Monday, March 21^st

94.0 miles, 8 hours and 06 minutes, average 11.6, max 29.7, 440 feet of climbing.

Because we have over 90 miles ahead of us, we leave early in the fog.  Everyone is going the opposite way we are as they are going to work at the chemical plants we passed yesterday, but the loaded trucks are going the same way we are.  The narrow road does not give us much room, but everyone, including us, tries very hard to give each other space.  We pull the tandem off the shoulder to let the trucks go past.  We are just returning the favor for all the courtesy we have received from them on this trip. 

Traffic dies down soon enough and we continue on our merry way wondering if this fog will ever lift. A van that is approaching us stops in the road and a man leans out to tell us that there is bad weather coming in and we had better hold up somewhere until it passes.  We know better than to always trust weather reports so we just keep peddling albeit more quickly so as not to get struck down by lightening or some other act of nature.  We see two or three raindrops and almost cancel our vacation, but the sun finally pops out and it is beautiful for the rest of the day.

As we continue to follow the Creole Nature Trail, the road is merely a high spot above the swamp.  The water on both sides of the road is active with all types of creatures, both above the surface and below.  We see nutria, frogs, turtles, jumping fish, and a variety of colorful birds including pink flamingos.  The wildlife show is spectacular, unparalleled, in all our travels.  We keep a close eye out for alligators. Then, we spot one slithering into the water right next to us.  Within minutes we find another lounging in the sun on the other side of the road.  Bec exclaims, “That one must be over 4 feet long!”   Louie raises his arm and points to the right where a pair of alligators are sitting on the bank.  Suddenly we realize that we are surrounded by alligators on both sides.  Bec says, “I hope we don’t get a flat tire.”  This goes on for hours and we see hundreds of alligators, some at least 10 feet long. 

The road eventually jogs to the north giving us a much-appreciated tailwind.  The swamps are gone now replaced by stretches of cypress forests, oak groves, and crawfish farms.  At one point, we stop to observe thousands of flamingos perched in a grove of trees.  The large birds seem out of place perched in trees, but there they are, nonetheless. 

The miles roll by quickly as we approach Abbeville.  People here seem afraid to pass us on the road even when there is plenty of room.  They don’t honk or yell.  They just lurk behind us, kind of like alligators.  Bec has to wave them around and indicate it is okay to come close.  At 94 miles into the ride, we reach our hotel.  Louie wants to do laps in the parking lot to make it a century, but Bec mutinies and heads for the showers muttering something like, “That crazy fool can do laps if he wants, but I am going to go clean up and eat.”

This day ends with dinner at Pizza Hut.  We order spaghetti dinner but they are all out.  Bec asks if they have any alligator, but they were out of that too, so we had to settle for a salad bar and bread sticks.     Yummy!

Tuesday, March 22nd

37.5 miles, 3 hours and 28 minutes, average 10.8, max 15.7, 270 feet of climbing. 

Today we find it difficult to leave the comfort of our hotel. Both of us abuse the free continental breakfast by filling our bike bags with fresh fruit, muffins and cereal. We hear vacuums going on both sides of our room and decide to get moving. We finally exit our room five minutes before check out time. One of the maids gives Louie a dirty look as he attaches the trailer to the tandem.  Another congratulates us as she notices the just married sign on the back. As we slowly pull out of the parking lot, we see the owner removing the word “free” from the continental breakfast sign.

The next destination for us is the town of New Iberia only 20 short miles away.  Because LA Hwy 83 is a tattered mess, Louie has to dodge many potholes and much gravel. It’s a good thing we have fat tires on the tandem for this trip. There is plenty of traffic today but they are so polite that we are beginning to think it is something in the local water supply. Even when we have to edge out onto the highway folks just go around us. If we did that back home there would be hell to pay for sure. Just before our turn to the RV Park, we see the sign to Avery Island that says, “Tabasco tours 6 miles”.  A few extra miles are nothing to us at this point so we go for it. Louie had asked Bec about it before the tour but she had forgotten all about it so it is a treat to see that it is right on the way. 

Arriving at the gate to Avery Island, the gatekeeper does not know what to think of the tandem so he only charges us a $1 fee.  Once inside Louie earns some relationship points by taking Bec to the Country store before going on the factory tour.  The store is full of all kinds of Tabasco stuff and they ship so we stocked up on all measure of Tabasco souvenirs to take back to our buddies.  Louie’s favorite part of the whole store is a giant mosquito hanging from the ceiling.  The clerk remarks that it is Louisiana’s state bird.  We can attest to that because we must have about a thousand mosquito bites between the two of us.  Louie thinks they are trying to communicate with us. “Let’s connect the dots to reveal the secret message.”

In the factory we learn all about how Tabasco is made.  It takes a long time to age it in barrels covered with salt to seal in the mash.  All the peppers have to be just right before they are picked.  Every step of the way quality and flavor are of the utmost importance. The plant seems small considering how much Tabasco sauce is used throughout the world. We later learn they have plants in several countries. 

Back on the road we manage to get lost again, but because of modern cell phone technology we are able to call the RV Park for directions.  It turns out that we had made one wrong turn is all. The RV Park is peaceful oasis with showers, picnic tables, and a giant room we can retreat inside in case of bad weather.  However, there is not a cloud in the sky this evening and the mosquitoes are not so bad here.  We have a lovely night watching the sun set in pink skies.  We highly recommend Chase RV Park in Iberia Louisiana if you are ever come this way.    

Wednesday, March 23rd

55.0 miles, 4 hours and 41 minutes, average 11.7, max 27.5, 320 feet of climbing. 

We start out this morning with a hearty breakfast courtesy of the continental breakfast of our hotel from the day before. The road we follow today twists and winds through small communities and vast sugar cane plantations. We stop for water and goodies in the town of Jeanerette. Bec chats with the locals while Louie forages. We hear tell the last time a cyclist came through their town was ten years ago.

Just down Main St. we stop in at the Jeanerette Museum. The place is loaded with artifacts from old sugar mills. The museum interpreter opens a door and leads our group into what hey call “The Swamp Room.” Inside is every kind of animal and fish ever found in the swamp displayed in lifelike postures by the miracle of taxidermy. Something in that room is making Louie’s nose twitch but he tries to act normal. Bec grabs his hand and Louie can tell she is getting the creeps, too.  Just when we think this thrill ride museum is over the guide takes us to a special annex in a separate building behind the museum where she locks us in a dark room and forces us to watch a thirty minute video about sugar processing. Let me tell you, there is nothing more pure than Louisiana sugar. 

Because it takes time for our eyes to adjust to daylight, Louie hits every bump in the road and there are a lot of them. We take turns standing and pedaling to give our bruised hinnies a break. Every so often we get a stretch of smooth pavement and it seems as if we are riding on a silk pillow. We see signage with a picture of a bicycle and the words “The Old Spanish Trail.” Between the towns of Sorrel and Franklin there is actually a three-foot shoulder. Could this be a bike route we wonder? The old Hwy 182 merges us onto the Interstate 90 for a couple of miles because it has the only bridge over a large canal. Bikes are forbidden on the Interstates here and Bec says we can get busted for it. Even on the Interstate nobody minds sharing the road and we make it back to the old highway in one piece.

About 25 miles out of Morgan City, our destination for the day, we pass through a couple of outlying communities. The rough road we are on becomes an indescribable gauntlet of potholes and cracks. We pass though Garden City, a town with beautiful plantation homes extraordinarily landscaped, but bad roads. In the town of Berwick the road is the worst. It is here that the side streets are named after planets in the universe. For some reason the planets are not in the correct order. For instance they have Sun, Moon, then Pluto. This puzzles us. As we bounce through town we feel the road become especially rough around Uranus. We remember something we learned back at the museum. Early settlers and Henry Ford used the Spanish moss that hangs from trees here to stuff seat cushions. Maybe this would work for us!

Thursday March 24th, 2005

47.3 miles, 4 hours 43 minutes, average 10.8, max 19.5, 310 feet of climbing.

 

After all the excitement we have had up to this point, today feels uneventful.   In reality we do get to see new things.  We travel through a large cypress forest taking note of the “knees” that the museum curator told us about.  They look like broken off, dead cypress trees but are actually part of the tree.  They grow up out of the water about 3 feet and then look like a small stump.  They help the tree breathe. 

The roads are very rough for the first part of today’s ride.  Louie reaches up into an oak tree as we pass and grabs some of that Spanish moss.  Bec instructs Louie to stand and then she places it on his seat before he sits.  It doesn’t help at all!  Louie decides he is going to invent an inflatable bike seat that a person could blow up to be as soft as they need while riding on these roads.  He could make a fortune except for one small thing – people around here don’t ride bikes much!  But we do see some old faded Dan Henry marks in one small town, possibly from an organized ride or tour.

After coming to a detour, Bec wanders into the gas station to find out if bikes can pass even if cars cannot.  She finds out that a bridge is washed out so we have no choice but to do the detour and get onto interstate 90 even though it is forbidden for bikes.  We formulate all manner of things to tell the sheriff before he hauls us away.  “We couldn’t help it.  It is a detour.  We had not choice.  Perhaps you could give us a ride to exit.”  The highway is a huge concrete viaduct built up on concrete pillars.  It must have cost a fortune.  We decide that is the reason the state roads are so bad in this area.  They spent all their money on the viaduct over the swamps. 

Making it safely back to the state highway, we continue through the swamp and then next to another canal.  People build houses all along the canal.  We see men fishing from mini docks that reach out over the water about 3 feet.  We see a couple of other men racing a boat up and down the canal waving at us as they pass each time. 

We come to the town of Waterproof.  On the West side of town the houses are fabulous and gigantic with boat docks complete with large boats hanging from hooks in the air in what look like car ports but for boats.  The houses are in gated communities to keep out the riff raff like us.  As we travel on though Waterproof, the houses change to small, inexpensive homes.  

Midway through the ride, we hurry through the happening hamlet of Houma.  We are surprised by the hustle and bustle of the town.  But there are several manufacturing plants around that contribute to it's economy. 

The roads improve, as we get closer to our destination, Raceland.  Raceland is a small town with one motel.  Louie fusses as we check in.  It certainly is not the Best Western that we had last night. At this place, WiFi means Weird and Funky!  Outside our room, we hear the song of the Louisiana Car Alarm Bird.  It truly sounds just like a car alarm and just like back home, nobody pays much attention to it.  Bec informs Louie that we brought our own class to this Motel in the form of left over Best Western Continental Breakfast for morning. 

But tomorrow is going to be our biggest splurge – a bed and breakfast night at a real plantation complete with tour and plantation breakfast.  We are very excited about that.  But, Bec has to reroute us because the one on the way is already booked.  The reroute will add almost 60 miles to our trip, but it will be worth it.  We are happy we brought the Topo map program with us because it would have been very difficult to reroute using the state map.

Friday, March 25^th

57.4 miles, 4 hours and 54 minutes, average 11.6, max 18.9, 240 feet of climbing. 

Both of us have a rough night.  A family with children checked into a room next to us and they were up very late making a lot of noise.  At one point our air conditioner is blowing pure refrigerated cigarette smoke.  The mattress and bedding are so bad that we are reluctant even to use our sleeping bags on it.  We finally tuck the bedspread tightly around the mattress so we can’t see the stains and plastic tarp that is covering the box springs.  After lying down, Bec lets out a yelp and pops up.  There is a spring poking all the way through.  She considers using her thermarest on the floor, but has second thoughts because she is terribly afraid of bugs and the carpet looks worse than the bed.  When the alarm finally goes off, Bec is already up muttering unmentionables under her breath.  Louie laughs and helps her get packed so we can get out of there as quickly as possible.  We wake up our resident manager to return our key.  He gives us our five-dollar key deposit back and we hit the road. 

It is Good Friday and in these parts it is like a national holiday.  We are able to find coffee from the only place in town that is open – a gas station.  At least the traffic is light, we have the wind at our back once again, and the miles role by relatively fast.   We stop for lunch (what we now call a butt break) in Tribideaux, the home of Nichols University.  Carloads of college kids on spring break holler at us as they pass us on the road.  For our fist stop of the day at an amazing 34 miles in the ride, we choose a bakery with a park across the street next to the canal.    

We have been following Highway 1 straight through so far, but now our directions have us making several turns on secondary roads.  When we reach our turn to state road 1004, we can’t believe our eyes.  It is a one-lane dirt road through a sugar cane field.  The only thing we can see in the distance is a sugar mill.  Bec checks her mileage and compass and says, “Yep, this is it.  This will take us to highway 70.”  In disbelief Louie drives the tandem up ahead a ways to see if there is any other road in the distance.  There is nothing so we circle back and let fate be our guide as we cycle into the abyss.  The dirt road isn’t as rough as some of the paved roads that we have ridden on so far, but we are kicking up a lot of dust and our matching tandem socks are getting dirty.  As we arrive at the sugar mill that we saw from the distance, we find that it is abandoned.  Like a ghost town, we get an eerie feeling that something might jump out at us at any moment as we cycle under large conveyors and rusting equipment. We emerge on the other side of the mill to see a paved road ahead.  Louie says, “We are saved!”  But the sign says state road 1005 and tells us that state road 1004 continues through yet another sugar cane field.  After 2 or 3 more miles of this, we pop out onto highway 70.

We are more determined now than ever to make it to the Nottoway Plantation in time for our tour.  The last 18 miles seem to go by in no time.  As we cycle along the Mississippi river we remember having been here before.  We arrive at the plantation ahead of schedule and take the tour of the extravagant mansion before we get our room.  We learn all about the families that have owned it and how this place was able to survive the civil war.  After the tour, we meet our porter who takes us to our room in the caretaker’s house.   Louie asks him if they have WiFi.  He says he is not married.  We guess that is a no.  Our room bares no resemblance to the fleabag hotel we had last night.  All the furniture is antique; it has two brass beds, crystal chandeliers, and extremely elegant oversized drapes that puddle out onto the floor.  We had learned on the tour that the oversized drapes were a symbol of wealth because the owner could afford the extra material. This feels like the grand finally.  Tomorrow we have a long ride to New Orleans and will be busy packing things up for our return trip home. 

Saturday, March 26^th

78.3 miles, 6 hours and 48 minutes, average 11.5, max 28.6, 660 feet of climbing.

We start our day with a Plantation Breakfast. Bec has an omelet and Louie has a waffle with bacon. We are slightly disappointed with the serving size we receive. After all, we have a long ride ahead of us. Louie asks if he can have a couple of scrambled eggs after he had gulped down his waffle. The server returns from the kitchen and says, “The breakfast is included in the cost of the room.  We have no way to charge you for the extra eggs.”  Louie says, “Our room costs $180 so I don’t think a couple of 20-cent eggs are going to break the bank. Please ask again.” This time she returns with the eggs.

At 8:30 sharp we are on highway 1 heading to New Orleans.  We make a quick stop in White Castle to mail postcards of Nottoway.  We wonder why there are no White Castle Burgers here. We ride tirelessly on worn out tires on narrow roads that follow the path of the Mississippi River.  We cross the river on a huge bridge. 

We pass refineries and chemical plants.  The smell irritates our throats at times. We pass through neighborhoods that are new and fresh and then old and run down.  It becomes and ebb and flow of classes of people with the more run-down houses near the towns and the fancy ones on the edges.

The sky turns black and begins to threaten us with rain.  We stop at the half-way point when we see a sign proclaiming “pork chop pot luck”, perfect for Portland People passing by. 

The sky begins to fall.  Louie has to remove his eye protection because of the rain.  We happen by some kind of plant that is processing wood chips causing dust to fly across the road.  We stop abruptly to put on our goggles in order to get through the cloud.

We pass the San Francisco Plantation that Bec read about yesterday.  We would like to stop to take the tour but do not have the time.  It is a restored plantation that was donated to the Area Restoration Group from Amoco Chemical Company after they had let it go to ruins.  We can see a woman on the veranda dressed in period clothing giving a group of people a tour.  It is a beautiful home, but not as elegant as the plantation we stayed in, yesterday. 

We ride on hoping to find the KOA before too much longer.  It is really raining hard now.  We pull up to the campground.  Both it and us are soaked all through.  The camp host refunds our money and sends us on our way to find a motel for the night.  We find a cheap one but Louie insists we press on to find one with better accommodations – laundry, ice, and food nearby.  We end at an old once fancy but now beginning to crumble Travel Lodge – home for the night.

Our riding is done.  The next few days will be spent exploring New Orleans and getting our equipment shipped. 

Sunday, March 27th

42 miles, 4 hrs and 22 minutes, average speed 9.6, max 19.8, 420 feet of climbing. 

Today we relax and take in a movie before looking for a new home. We need to find a hotel with an airport shuttle.  After relocating, Louie talks Bec into riding to the French Quarter. Bec really wanted to take a bus but since it is Easter Sunday she is easily persuaded by the lure of light traffic on the roads. We don’t take time to figure out the route we would take on the computer so we have to manage with a city map.

Bec wants to look at the homes in the area so she makes a fatal mistake and takes us off the main road onto neighborhood streets. New Orleans is a crescent shaped city and the roads are difficult if not impossible to follow unless you are familiar with the area. We have to stop and reconnoiter several times before we finally get to Bourbon Street.  Bec tries to read the map, but we are bouncing and bumping along on the sometimes cobblestone streets so it is impossible.  But, on the way we see many quaint old houses that remind us of Old Portland style homes. The smell of barbeques fills the air and we wish we were invited.

We ride up on the Mississippi River Dike bike path until it ends.  It is really a wonderful bike path because it is up high enough that the cyclists can get a view that the motorists cannot.  Bec wishes we had more time to ride it in its entirety. 

Louie stops at a Chicken and Biscuit establishment for some southern biscuits.  They are delicious and the woman behind the counter very patiently tells Bec how to get to Bourbon Street.  We get lost once more and end up riding through streets lined with some Project style structures.  People are out in the street.  They all holler at us, but mostly firing questions, “Where you all from?  Where you all going? How do you ride that thing?  Can I go for a ride?”  We just wave and keep riding.  There would be no way to answer all their questions.  We just do not have the time. 

If you have ever been to Bourbon Street you are probably wondering why on earth would we want to try and ride it. “Because we can!” We take time for a photo before we have to start the return trip back to the hotel. On the way back Louie takes a detour through one of New Orleans cities of the dead.  They call them cities because the tombs look like buildings.  Here they encase their dead in burial vaults and sit them on top of the ground because the earth is too wet.  The caskets would pop up out of the ground if they tried to bury them. 

The way back to the motel is farther than we think so soon we are riding in the dark.  Fortunately we are prepared. This evening ends with a nice dinner at a fine Italian restaurant. Perfect! 

All that is left now is to pack up, ship back the trailer, box up the tandem, and take a rest before boarding the plane back to Portland.  We see on the news that is raining there, making this trip even sweeter.  As usual we are sad the vacation is done, but look forward with much anticipation to our next.

Louie & Becky

Virtual Tour Slide Show