Biker 7: October 2013

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

MS Tour 2013 Sunday , 2nd of 2.

Sunday morning, Sunday morning,Sunday Morning,,
We arose Sunday morning, weather threatened last night, with same predicted this morning, our surprise , no rain, just fog, the kind that's a wall of white pillows hanging around like it owns my future, past , present,
being unswayed as usual, Marie brings me to the starting line, an Official tells me , we're on , we're on at 7:30 not 8:00, don't eat breakfast get in line, I did, and we're off. Set off my red lights, one on seat , one on left ankle, had to remove my silver anklet , fog has a cooling effect, it was humid, but cool, visibility no problem on a bike, can't attain speeds to hurl into the fog. Side by side exiting the park is harrowing, pop, pop, over overinflated tires giving way, screeching down the fast slopes dodging the speed bumps, it's a relief to get on the highway , spread out , ride my own ride. For a change I didn't plug in my MP3 this morning, yearned for the sounds of life, birds singing, "Listen to the Mocking Bird," (the Heckle and Jeckle version), cows mooing, horses' neighing, cicadas chirping ,what an annoyance , big foots grunting, pigs oinking, snakes hissing, an eagle screeching, chubracabras howling, owls hooting, donkey's hee hawing, sheep singing the chorus of " Sound of Music", road kill rising to road kill heaven by harps played by Opossum's , Raccoons, turtles and snakes. Taking a moment I rethought the idea , plugged in my player , started the day with Spencer Davis Group, featuring Stevie Windwood, "I'm a man , yes I am and I can't help but love you so ", still needed a little help, dropped a Valium , started to grove and move . Next song,
The Kinks " Sunny Afternoon", now we're on a roll, approaching the first stop , I intended to skip when my new friend Clarence rides on side of me to say good morning, Clarence was having bike trouble , seeking the mechanic at the first stop ,, I left some urea, grabbed 2 cookies, hauled ass, have hills to climb, yes they are still there , weren't bulldozed over night. At the second stop the fog lifted to make room for the rain, just long enough to soak me to the bone , by lunch stop I was dry. A front approached from the west , I love to race against threatening weather, keeping my eyes to the west , peddling south, enjoying a northwest tailwind, breakneck speeds, it's a great day. My brain cells were popping with vigor, intent, and serotonin, it was before lunch I sensed a spirit creature around me , I can do that you know, I looked up in time to see an apparition , either a good looking Chubracabra or an ugly ass Valkyrie from Valhalla , think it was a chubracabra, no one believes in Norse Mythology , Valkyrie's , Odom, or Zena. I reached for my camera, it was gone that quick,no one would believe me, pretending I care. Time for some fortified Jelly Beans, don't know what's in them, sure give me a buzz, or is that Prince Valium. Although the rain never appeared again the sky was threatening all day, no sun, no warmth, cool breeze from the Northwest, pushing my ass home at 20 miles an hour. Hills are tough on Sunday, you've already used your lactic acid climbing them Saturday, thighs burning to the bone, calves cramping, arms weary pulling the bars, trapezoids flexed constantly, breathing like a prize fighter in the 15th round that's losing to Joe Frazier. Crossing the Tangapahoa River bridge again I hear Sirens singing , this time their singing "The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B", not wanting to be turned into a swine and eaten, I focused , kept going with fear, swift diligence. There's 3 Sirens according to Homer. I only see 2, heard the third was handing out buggies at Walmart. Lunch stop was a duplicate of yesterday,,think I ate the same PBJ, grabbed some cookies to go , some fig newtons, hit the road, rain is a coming, front is a coming, I want to ride the wind in front of the front without being in the front with the rain, hail, cold, like a surfer, riding the wave, don't get swallowed by it. It's working, I'm 20 mph, no effort, racing up hills , flying down them, pumping legs like pistons on a locomotive. Coming down the next hill, breakneck speed, I encounter a low to the ground fog cloud, thickest I've ever seen, unafraid I rode into the white abyss, lost my vision immediately, looked down, following the road, slowed down, no one around me. I was sure I have crossed a parallax bringing me to another dimension or a time travel, maybe another plane of the 3rd dimension, maybe I was riding so fast I warped to another time...Yea...that's it.... Suddenly a gust of wind drove me off the right side of the blacktop road, my wheels reached the loose debris , dirt, grass, I was down on my left side facing the woods, quickly I notice I'm alone, no one can see me, I unwrap my bike from around my legs , attempting to get up my right ankle screams , don't walk on me , he was right, I sat up wondering what to do next, crawl back to the road for help, yes, turning around my plans change, blocking my retreat were 3 chubracabras, poised to attack me, their fanged teeth dripping slime. bulging black eyes,watching every move I make, hand like paws with long fungusy nails, tattered skin wings spread as a warning, don't forget the horns on top of the head chewed, bent and war damaged. Their color is unsure, it's a purplish,, bluish,, reddish, blackish demony color.. The one in the middle starts to nudge me toward the woods, his slimy fangs tearing my 80 dollar jersey, unable to walk I start crawling toward the direction he urges , suddenly the grass I just crawled on gave way, I fell then started rolling, tumbling down a hole lined with soft dirt, and grass roots, I stop when I land in a lighted chamber , immediately I thought , well this is Alice in Wonderland and I'm about to do some hashish through a hookah with a caterpillar, cool, is all I could think, can't ride now anyway may as well get high with the wildlife, sitting up I note that's not the case, instead of a Hookah smoking caterpillar I get a cigar smoking slug with a Brooklyn accent wearing a dark derby with a light blue feather in the band, he's laying on his side, yellow underbelly , olive drab backside, .. "Whats ya doin here bub"..? he ask , I reply,"well I started riding this tour , then I'm here looking for hashish , hookah, a caterpillar, I find a slimy slug with a cigar,a derby, what a letdown... what's in that cigar anyway,?", "cigar tobacco" he replies,,,,."Ok so how do I get out of here" I plead, His reply was simple "tap the heels of your red sparkly shoes together three times" I was quick to remind him I had no such footwear..."Well " he replies," your shit out of luck bub, maybe Superman or Green Lantern will find you" he then let out a laugh like a miniature Java the Hut, a slug , imagine that, I'm held captive by a slug, with a cigar, wearing a derby with a blue feather, this isn't going to work.Something sparkly caught my attention. my feet were wearing red sparkly shoes, yes, the kind Dorothy wore, what have I got to loose, I clicked the heels together three times and repeated "there's no place like the road" , bingo I'm back on the road coming out the fog surrounded by other bikers, I turn to the guy on the right stating, " how about that fog bank", 'what fog bank he replies " I started to say, the one back there, but realized it was no use, the rider was Rod Serling.
I rode in earnest screaming for the finish line,, speeding though the last turn into the finish the announcer grabs me for an interview. How was the course?, any bad weather?, how old am I ? ,how many tour have I rode? and why am I wearing red slippers with sparkles? I could not answer that, I dismounted, checking my
odometer I had my best time ever, 5 hours and 40 minutes, great tour, came in healthy and timely,
started walking to the car , felt something smush under my foot, ugh!,, it was a slug, looking closely I think I saw a cigar in his mouth and a derby on his little smashed head. .... typical MS tour.....
gary gauthier


I'm ready let it rain..

We're all ready.

Lets go

start of the Tour flats everywhere..

Fog,Fog,Fog

Fog and hills

Climbing in the Fog.

Climbing high in the fog.

Nosebleed Section

My new Friend Clarence

Always Climbing

Fog Clearing

Downhill

taking pics at the La State line

Back in La.

the long winding road.

Sal's House.

Beautiful ranch with wooden fences.

Downhill


actual Big Foot Sighting, Got the picture...

large Field with nothing planted , grass for cattle

Same Field

Abandoned House

weather approaching from the west.

racing homeward

I can smell the finish line..

resst stop approaching

last rest stop.

my escort biker friend Brian.

last stop

there goes Brian

Making the last turn

through the finish line .

finish line

finish area

Thursday, October 17, 2013

MS Tour 2013 Saturday 1 of 2 . Sunday in the Works

Saturday Morning, Saturday Morning, Saturday Morning,

Excitement , anticipation, concern, doubt, apprehension, eagerness, only a small portion of emotions festering, blooming, growing, inside me waiting to start another adventure, another challenge, not just physical endurance but alas mental strength , spiritual conviction, holistically joined making this man the man he wants to be to please his own soul taking his psych to levels that spur thoughts here to now in-perceivable. Riders unknowingly emit hidden emotional fear as they gather at the start like sheep ready to march to better pastures provided their not slaughtered by mountain lions, or worst yet failure. Like most races or tours, all starts slow, walking, slow riding, then every man, woman and child for himself, the first big turn is the best, the popping of inept tires echoing through the woods, the slipping of dried chains, the clanking of rusted jammed derailleurs, you must be prepared for the tour, physically, mentally and mechanically. I am such a person. Motorcycle escorts rev their big bikes , escorting , guarding, guiding, like guardian angels watching their diminutive riders struggling at the first hill. Hills, a geographic necessity,

yet challenging for riders, I am awed by Tour De France Riders climbing the Alps , the Pyrenees, Mont blanc, nothing like the hell affronting me in Summit, Ms, thighs on fire, arms tensely pulling on bars for counter force, calves burn, heart pumping like a Diesel , grasping for each breathe, then finally , the summit, down the other side 30 miles an hour , that thrill,worth the pain, speed cures all.

I skip the first 2 rest stops , trained for a 30 mile non stop, passed many riders, crossed the Tangipohoa

River, beautiful homes, ranches, farms, cabins , down right dumps, all on the same road..

At this point my endorphins have overridden serotonin reuptaking, my real fears surface , popping across brain cells like New Yorkers scurrying through traffic, real fears? , Big Foot sighting, may carry me into the woods , pimp me to the clan, Chubracabra could sink his fangs in my heaving throat, draining ounce by ounce of blood till I'm pale, dead , lifeless and withered, brain eating amoeba jumping out the river, attacking my nose, eating my brain, making me brainless like?, well you fill in this part, or worst of all, a chihuahua breaks his chain , attacks me, causing me to blink, turn my head and laugh...

Overcoming these fears weighs heavy, I can't train for psychology, can't even spell it, facing my fears is the only way, once they happen I'll face them... Rode with a rider I met, Clarence; is 66, rides a late 60's early 70's Raleigh steel English Racer, I commented to Clarence, " your strong and fast for a 66 year old", he replied,"yes Gary, since the second stint in my heart it's been a lot easier", signaling the end of he man Gary.

We post 60 riders usually have something to prove to ourselves and others, Lance Armstrong says "endurance athlete's are running from something", probably our beleaguered selves, our engorged egos' , our

shallow souls, our tired bodies, our empty and corrupt hearts..living this long allows opportunity to empty your compassion bucket, your love bag, your kindred spirit sack....

Along comes a big white Honda Motorcycle, it's Brian , my American Legion friend, he's one of the guardian angel motorcyclist that ride up and down the entire length of the tour making sure everyone is safe , on the right road , moving along.. It would be tough without them, if you stop , they stop, flats, injuries, falls, or need the SAG wagon cause you can't cut it ..thanks ladies and gentlemen...

At this point in the tour I'm high as a kite, my brain cells are snapping out loud,,no more pain, no more strain, just peddling like a machine fresh with fuel , wide open,,. I glance into the woods occasionally looking for the Big Brown Guy with the giant feet, no not Ricky Jackson, I'm talking about Big Foot, he's out there waiting to capture your imagination, stink up your nostrils, leave some prints , never to be seen.

Lunch stop was great, plenty plastic out houses, spiked mashed potatoes, pasta, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cookies , cakes sandwiches, candy, 10k, power aid, bananas, oranges, Fig Newtons,

nuts, pickles, power drinks, energy bars, some riders never leave, they finish the tour right there.

I make it a quick stop , a PBJ ,on my way, up a hill, pump pump pump, weathers great, temps is a little warm , but I'm a hot weather rider, it suits me fine, hate the cold, stuck some cookies in my pocket for later.

Across open farmland, through wooded roads overhung with leaning willow trees, some roads smooth, some rough, don't matter at this point, it's just road, plink ,plink,plink, raindrops, oh oh , looking up a gray wall approaches with haste, I stop, encase my gear in plastic with haste, then wam it hit me ,

pounding rain, hurts my arms, face , legs, I keep riding for I know there's another side to every storm, coming out the other side I dry quickly 10 minutes later it never happened. The last road before the park is straight, level, fast , I can smell the finish line, like a wild horse smells water, I'm going for it. I get to the park entrance, path in the park is curved, deep up and downs , speed bumps, I race through 25 miles an hour, the wind blowing my hair back like a flag waving in the wind. (yea), I hear the announcer calling in riders, there it is, the big balloon finish line , I slow down to be sure the photographer get a good shot of me crossing the finish line, the announcer , who I know, stops to interview me, "how was the tour this year?" , "Great", I respond,, "How many is this Gary?", "7 " I reply, "6 hours and 15 minutes a new record for me".

I find Marie and it's off to the luxurious hotel for food and rest, tomorrow's another day, another tour , another 75 miles, another adventure and another blog.. Stay tuned. Part 2 Coming soon.

Gary Gauthier , died twice already , not afraid of hell.

Click on the pics to enlarge...