Biker 7: Bay St Louis, ,, long day...

Bay St Louis,,,,,,,,
6:00 am.. I stand on my cold cement driveway facing the sacred east awaiting the sun's birth to shed upon me its promise of hope, it's promise of life, it;s promise of fulfillment. Clasping my hands, inter-winding my fingers as if preparing for a communion of some kind, I bow my head in reverence, hoping this day will be communal , nature and I , the road and I, fear and reverence and I . . The time has come..made it to Covington from both sides of the lake, far north, far west, now we attack the east. My third attempt to go further than 100 miles in one day. Started preparing mentally Monday, loading up protein, calories, sit ups, committing to myself , Bay St Louis sounds like a good ride, 60 miles away, cyclist ride hwy 90 regularly,scenery is great, weather predictions on my side, just got bike out the shop, it's ready, everything in my favor, Friday night, laid all my gear on the kitchen table, like a Sherpa preparing for an attempt on Mount Everest, , tool bag, clinch sack, phone charged up , 2- mp3 players charged up, loaded with 1500 songs, , first aid kit, cash, ID, medical card, kerchief for my neck, shorts, colorful jersey, short socks, shoes, pumped up tires to 80 psi, oiled chain, checked brakes , charged, then loaded front and rear lighting , gathered food stuffs, protein bars, oranges, banana, jelly beans, trail mix, raisins, 12 Gatorade's, some orange some blue, ate a protein bar, drank protein. ate cookies. 6:30am, time to attack, took West Napoleon to Canal then Canal to Broad,I wanted to travel the old school route, the one we used before 1-10, Broad St to Chef Highway, all cool, still early, Danzinger bridge, stopped to admire the ominous Industrial Canal, from atop, Seabrook bridge is clearly blocking the way to Lake Pontchartrain, Mississippi , ship channel all visible, onward to beautiful Gentilly Woods, pass the exit to the Old Gentilly Highway, not much stirring. As I approach the edge of the city I find Lake Catherine on my right and Lake Pontchartrain on my left, its always interesting to read the name of the camps, reflective of the personalities of the owners , mostly Yats. My legs are kicking ass, I have a tail wind, scurried up the new Rigolets Pass Bridge, that's pronounced "Rigolees" , that would make a Chevrolet a "Chevrolee" ,atop I stop , suddenly I'm in the crows nest of a tall ship creaking,swaying , fantastic view, Fort Pike completely visible, the wind ruffles my hair, , I can see Lake Borgne ,Lake Pontchartrain, Gulf of Mexico, Slidell, New Orleans , scary what doesn't lay between us and the Gulf of Mexico, can't understand what made an explorer walk miles in waist deep muck looking for a place to live. Rolled to the bottom at 30 miles an hour, hang on , that's fast for me and my bike. to cross the state line your must first run the gauntlet of Pearl Rivers, East Pearl , West Pearl, several Pearl tributaries, narrow bridges, fast rivers, muddy waters, plenty fishermen... I cross several cycle teams on the opposite side, 30 to 50 in each group, I see something ahead that's hard to make sense of , I see a white flag behind a bicycle, a little trailer behind it, a man in a mixed military fatigue outfit, the bike, its a morphed beach bike, big tires, gear packed everywhere, a backpack on the man 2 ft taller than he, I slow down to see whats up , he's Michael Cliff, of Veterans for Peace, his white flag has a Dove of Peace on it , so I have to talk to him.
Mike says he doing a Trans National tour to raise donations and awareness to assist the plight of homeless Veterans, help them reintegrate into our communities, I explain to Mike , my American Legion does the same thing, we've plenty common ground. Mike started his ride in San Diego, Ca. went across the Mid West and Texas down to New Orleans. We spent about 3 miles together, Mike had a big Axe on his bike , said he was an arborist, he sometimes builds a stand in a tree top to spend the night, pulls his bike up with some climbing rope attached to his frame,, I thought, "what a great idea" if you have to spent the night in the "Bayou Savage Reserve" and don't want to be eaten by Pigs, Snakes or Chubracabras, a tree top is the only safe place..I left Mike, crossed into Mississippi, as I neared that Famous "Silver Slipper" sign, my back tire began to knock, knock, knock, knock, I knew what the knock knock was, I just dreaded it, yep it was a roofing nail straight up in my back tire, pulling over to an extended shoulder in front of an old abandoned building from Pre I-10 era , like so many times before I dismantled the bike, pulled out my tools, a tube, replaced it , put it all back together in about 15 minutes, wasn't in a hurry, back on the road.. .. If you ride a bicycle over 1 mile, you need to know how to maintain and repair in emergencies, changing a tube on the side of the road is essential, it's a definite event ,it's just a matter of when and where., no one escapes flat tires, or in the Tour de France they call them punctures. Back on the road, another group of 50 or so riders on the other side of the highway..Not my class, I couldn't begin to keep up with them, all young skinny, fast, healthy, riders on nice expensive fast cycles...I just wave.Like a good tourist I had to stop at the "Welcome to Mississippi " sign and take my picture, next stop Bay St Louis, seeing many signs saying Bay St Louis up ahead , makes me pedal faster. Just had my second protein bar, banana's been gone, 5 Gatorade's gone, not thirsty but am hungry, found and used personal relief station , few and far apart, none are marked, who cares, gotta go gotta go . There it is , the sign I was looking for ,the one that says Welcome to Bay St Louis, 61 miles, no problem . stopped , took at picture at the Post Office, ate some more, cr jelly beans, an orange. Toured the town, didn't take long, turned around, put Mr Sun on my neck and made for the west, ass is starting to hurt, calves cramping a little but generally ready.. Didn't take long to get to the Pearl Rivers, crossed them , got back into Louisiana, the side of the road seemed littered with swollen dead sows, little piglets running around everywhere, I'm stopped , on the right side of the road chained to a tree is a completely white bike cluttered with flowers, teddy bears, dolls, beads, religious artifacts, then it hit me , it's a memorial for the man that was killed riding where I'm riding right now, he was with a group, a shame, standing there doing my part in remembrance and mourning, it was clear what happened, vehicles come around the turn here at 273 miles an hour, unchecked, now, understand this about driving, driving a car is a skill , like playing a video game, shooting pool, driving a nail, combing your hair, playing an instrument some can , some can't, yet everyone gets a license, so you don't have to know how to drive a car to go 273 miles an hour , you just need to past the 10 question test with pictures ,a set of keys., and never again will anyone test your skill, even when your 83, have blinding cataracts, reaction time of a sloth, and usually press the gas instead of the brake and when the car goes faster you press harder cause you think your foots on the brake. , even after you drive through the front of that fast food restaurant you still will be allowed to drive the next day...What a great country...
Back to Highway 90. The miles keep adding up, ass hurting , keep drinking Gatorade but notice some
potassium shortage on my legs, food is getting low.I note turkey buzzards flying lower and lower around me, they can sense my weakness. Watching the sun sink slowly in front of me, I have light with me , just thought I could get home before dark, I pick up the pace, when I hit just under 100 miles a side stitch I had turned into a liver ache, drinking plenty fluid, short of food though, I decide , maybe incorrectly, that my blood stream is out of calories, "hit the wall", so my liver is working its ass off to convert fat to calories, that takes a lot of oxygen, so does riding a bike 100 miles , consequently my liver is begging for mercy, crossing the Danzinger bridge I start riding one to three miles then walking a mile and letting oxygen catch up, worked but found my self walking in an area of town not good for walking at night, I didn't care, down Gentilly blvd in time to meet the 200,000 jammers coming out of the Jazz Fest. off the bike , too many people and cars to ride through in the dark, it was good, relieved my liver, met some interesting people ,nearing Canal St I'm over 122 miles, I jump back on the bike, as soon as I try to pedal with my right leg it felt like someone grabbed the muscles inside of my right leg , twisting,squeezing, beating , I jumped off immediately , found a tree and started stretching, walked a little, tried to jump back on the bike , a repeat, cramped, ouch! , found another tree , stretched , walked, did some bending , rubbing, tried a third time , ok , back to peddling, cleared the traffic and people , got to Jefferson Davis and Canal St. made the call. Marie come get me ... 123.7 miles was enough for today, it was 8:30 pm., need nourishment, I was happy, I accomplished something, next time I'll be better prepared , have an easier time . After I do this again comes," around the Lake,", sounds like a lot but don't see me getting an opportunity to cross the country soon, eventually though..Remember the words of Lance Armstrong, "endurance athletics are running from something." ....I have a long run..........must find the key maker......My sense of accomplishment is eclipsed only by the high that comes with endurance and struggle. I can never look at life the same, but who would want to, adventures like these change the inner core of self esteem, confidence,, and insight.....I'm a better man.....

gary gauthier.

note" Never crossed Mike coming back???? Must have found a good tree...