Rode the Lake Pontchartrain path to Press St, to Alvar, to Louisa, to Gentilly Blvd, took a hard left to cross the Danzinger bridge,, now I'm on my way. Gentilly Highway, (Hwy 90) has a long and dangerous history, Jane Mansfield's spirit still wanders about, countless hurricanes have systematically redesigned the strip of land between La and Miss, exposed to Lake Catherine, Lake Pontchartrain, Lake Borgne, The Gulf of Mexico, its owned by wild pigs, snakes, alligators, raccoons, opossums, chubracabras, rednecks and giant vultures for those too slow...It's natures way, the Sabre Tooth Tiger eats the old, slow , those without cunning, courage, strength or luck. I'm fast, certainly cunning, coy, strong, and understand the easiest way to counter the Tiger is to throw the person next to you in front, part of being cunning..the road is long , longingly, hot, beautiful, one section you can see about 20 miles ahead, nothing, heat rising off a black pool of asphalt kept in check by the weeds forming an edge, sometimes, the buzzards start to follow you with caring eyes, hungry hearts, stroke, heart attack, your dead, dead meat, carrion, food, their little buzzard bald heads will be reaching in your rib cage to feast on your rich tasty organs , pay attention, eyes on the road, monitor your drinking and eating, take that pulse regularly, think about the accomplishment, push, push,, push,, yes it's hot, the endless road wears on your physic, each peddle only brings you about 4 feet closer to the 100 miles ahead of you, but each peddle is an accomplishment, a step up Mt Everest, another stride in a Marathon, a goal in the World Cup . It takes 20 miles to warm up , 30 miles to get in a grove , 50 miles to get high, from there it don't matter anymore, you just peddle, feel good, hold your head up high, dare anyone or anything to rob you of the Conquistador you are, your Rocky, your Babe Ruth, your Lance Armstrong, your Arnold Swartzaneggar, your John Wayne, your John Lennon, your Ernest Hemingway, your Truman Gandhi, your Jan Urillich, any hero you want to be...cause your on top of the world , impenetrable, fearless,, immortal, indestructible, your Green Lantern, Superman and John Jones combined. The Science is, get in the grove , release Endorphins (opioid s), Anandamide (similar to THC),,once tapped into your central nervous system they limit pain sensors, then comes Euphoria , once euphoric next comes the release of dopamine, contributing to lust, pleasure, and addiction , that's why we ride a hundred miles , run 26 miles , and swim across the lake.
I've crossed all the Pearl rivers, narrow , skinny, treacherous bridges. I reach in my clinch sack , pull a peanut butter and cherry preserve sandwich ,,, without losing a stroke , eat my sandwich, dodge some pot holes, drink some Gatorade , look around at the scenery , what a day, I'm feeling like a million bucks by now, important time to pay attention to food and drink intake, time for a protein bar, more Gatorade, a cigarette would me nice , oh gave that up. Stroke after stroke, push, after push, legs don't hurt, arms don't hurt,thighs burn, using a lot of lactic acid, need more oxygen, take deeper breaths, now there's 3 or 4 buzzards following me, I wave my fist at them , think to my self, not today fellas, I came here to conquer not die.Going through songs on my MP3 player, I have 1500, looking for something special, for the moment to match this high, "Here without you " 3 DOORS DOWN, followed that with ," Hot in Here" by NELLY,
how can you not get extra high when STEPPENWOLF comes on with "Born to be Wild"..
Getting close I can smell the salty sea air, feel the sand pelting my arms, hear the chips fall at the Silver Slipper,hear the jelly fish planning their attack. Finally off highway 90 , on 603 , has a decent shoulder, no speed limit like most roads in this area, there it is the big blue sign that says "Welcome to Mississippi", (you know the one, with all the trash at the bottom from tourist taking pictures), wow, I've crossed into another state..I feel vulnerable, waiting on Barney Fife to stop me, write me a ticket for not having enough wheels, ( that's a joke, ) I love MS. The turn to the Silver Slipper is clearly marked, .I'm humping it now , I smell the first finish line , another peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cool water, and rest. I'm peddling on lust, determination, brain high and the need to conquer, accomplish, and succeed. 8 twisting miles later the road opens to the Gulf of Mexico, white sandy beach, shallow water, sea gulls instead of buzzards, and people, their scarce on highway 90... For my convenience the Highway department placed a sign at the end of the road , on the beach for me to lock my bike while I remove shoes, socks, rush to the water and stick my feet in the Gulf of Mexico, this is important because when I'm in the Gulf Of Mexico, through the water I'm in physical contact with millions of others also in the water, its the same water, we're all in the Gulf of Mexico
5 feet apart or 500 miles apart , don't matter, we're connected, that's spiritual, that's soulful, that's paying attention to things in life that really matter. facing the South I'm sure I saw the Yucatan Peninsula, a little blurry, but I'm sure I saw it. I wanted a picture of me in the Gulf , couldn't set up my camera , no camera crew on this trip, I turn to my right , it's Bo Derek's twin sister, her boyfriend, I told her my story and asked if she'd take my picture for the folks back home, "Sure" she replies,I hand her the camera backwards hoping she'd snap one of her , but she was too wise, took my picture, I thanked her, genuflected , went back to my bike. Ironically I dried my feet with my socks the put them on, drank more Gatorade, had my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, some trail mix , rested a few minutes the back on the road, the return trip is all mental, you body is done, your out of everything, calories, hydration, sense..1 Gatorade every ten miles, 1 snack every hour, stop and stretch for a cramp, feel thigh clamminess to monitor hydration , drink more if they feel cool, hold your sword up high, come to conquer not die.. Back to Highway 603, not for long , 8 miles or so back to old Hwy 90. I turn onto the demon, its endless, it pulses, it dares, it stretches, its beckons like a lover to embrace you , once trapped it then whacks you like a black frying pan, dehydration , boredom, fear, uncertainty, apprehension, obsession, but you keep peddling, looking for that finish you know is 4 to 5 hours away , elusive , yet attainable. It's hot , for a short while my thighs got clammy, I felt a euphoria I'd never felt before, glancing to the right , at the edge of the woods sat a boar, tusked, huge, kneeling with front legs crossed and wearing a nuns habit, I could only assume he was praying for assistance crossing the treacherous 273 mile per hour speed limit highway, I didn't think about it another second, a day or 2 later it haunted me. I learned from a friend I hadn't invented the pig in a nuns' habit, it's a character in a painting by "Hieronymus Bosch" called "Garden of Earthly delights", after days of soul searching, mind bending,
inner visions I realize that in some point in my life I saw this painting , the chemicals exploding in my brain allowed buried visions to surface. Ah! the Brain, what a great toy, I play with mine as often as possible.
Looking up, the buzzards had turned to 3 headed dragons, breathing fire, uncoiling their talons, death was on their mind, I felt then, my demise was eminent, but as fate would have it I reached the Pearlington EZ Serve on the East Pearl River, the State line, I hurriedly dismounted, removed helmet , rushed inside, purchased 3 large cold waters, walked outside and poured the first one on my head allowing it to run down my whole body, I felt my core temperature lower, I shivered, but continued , the shock was scary but the core cooling cleared my thinking, feeling refreshed . I no longer felt like a banged cat on a hot tin roof.
As I stood on the stoop of the EZ serve a couple of local country boys pulled up in a old white banged up pick up truck, the one in the passenger seat and I nodded at each other, he says politely ,"where you going ?", I must've looked bad, I reply, "Metairie,that's where I 'm from", "golly ", he says, "we're headed that way in a while , put your bike in the back and get in ", I explained to him riding to Metairie was the objective.
"OK" he replies, " but if you change your mind we're leaving in bout an hour". I explained further that I rode to here this morning and was on my way back, he replies again, " well if we see you, we'll stop and pick you up". I gave up. "OK". Helmeted, mounted,on my way again, cranked up some "38 Special", "What if I been the one to say goodbye", "could you smile when it hurt so deep inside and it never fades away",
followed by, " It ain't the real thing" by "Bobby Blue Bland", "it's just a tired old song we sing".
Feeling great, cooled off, crossed the 12 Pearl Rivers, their narrow rusty crooked bridges ready to fall into the swirling rivers. I got across that day, but what about next time? They remind me of humans , if not painted, cleaned, repaired, paid attention to, they just crumble back to earth, becoming what they started out as, raw materials, never again to glory in the sun, triumph, achieve, or accomplish. So I ride a bike !
Riding a bike does not ensure long life, it just means you go out swinging. I stop to pay respects to the cyclist memorial chained to a tree on Hwy 90, it always reminds me of my close calls , the right hooks (cars making right turns into you), I've survived, part of the cycling game, cunning, vision, awareness, it also reminds me of the hoods I've flew over, being spun around a few times, the stop sign I took out , that's another story all its own, shattered wrist. Made it to the Lake Catherine Isthmus, enjoyed the camp name signs, they never get old, corny as a extra large popcorn at the Elmwood 27 theater, Road kill was exemplary today, snakes, opossum, raccoons, chubracabras, turtles, a redfish, cats, dogs, a penguin with a hat like Tennessee Tuxedo,
and finally an alligator with a gargoyle in its mouth, I took pause , kept riding ,blamed it on brain chemicals.
Inventoried food and drink, 4 Gatorade's, 1 water, 1 PBJ, 1 Pudding, no shortages , eat the last PBJ,
start another Gatorade, tongue is orange, need potassium, need calories, need oxygen , burning fat,
burning muscle, feeling good, legs are machines, arms are locked, brain is warped, all good.I sense the day closing in on me,, pump harder, faster, smell the city getting close, stopped to mourn for a redbird that lay
dead on the shoulder of Hwy 90, I thought, what a despicable place to die, as a bird you have the whole world to die in , not hwy 90, then it hit me , the bike rider, what a despicable place to die. Made it to Vietnam, there's an American Flag equal or less height than the Vietnam flag, it's hard to tell from a distance, it fits in with the cement dragons growling at parking lots, ten thousand restaurants, the oriental architectured strip malls, just another New Orleans ethnic neighborhood, food smells great just like the others. Old Gentilly next, food getting low, so is the road home, Gentilly Terrace, Gentilly Woods, Gentilly Gentilly,
3 Gatorade's left, I decide to walk the Danzinger Bridge, four young men (?), on 4 wheelers came flying low across, no helmets, standing up , zig zagging around traffic, I know when it's time to pull over, walk a bridge, railing is low, drop is far, water is deep , I can't swim, once over the crest I remounted , flew down about 25 miles an hour. My core is temp is rising again, I can sense it , hot Gatorade is full of potassium but it's hot , I see the sign I was looking for, BG's Quick Stop, run inside , grab a water, $1.43, throw 2 dollars on the counter and out to the bike I never left my eyes off of, jump on an go, no hanging around here,
poured the cold water on my head, through my helmet, the shock caused me to shiver, shake, and make funny noises, felt great , cooled me down, turned right at Louisa and headed for the Lake, at this point I can see the finish , legs are stronger than ever, pump, pump, pump, circle, circle, circle, across the ninth ward,
finishing up any food I had left, milking those Gatorades, going home...Press St, in late afternoon is a beautiful avenue, folks sitting on the porch all wave as you go by, course by now their so drunk they don't know if your a bike rider or a passing grizzly bear, and it don't matter , they waving..
East end of Lakeshore drive , a moniker that I'm only the lakes length away, Mp3 player blasting "Ghost Rider in the Sky" the electric version by the "Outlaws", got my head bopping, my legs pumping , my brain
jumping to another level. In the last hour I've rode with Jesus, Buddha, Hallie Selassie, Truman Gandhi,
and of course Reverend Jim, spiritual, about to crest Mt Everest without a Sherpa, crossing the finish at the
Tour de Italia. Lakeshore Drive still scattered with picnickers, picking up, toting , loading their blankets, baskets, badminton sets,, horseshoes, empty beer cans , I wiz by like a ghost , cruising, steadily, smoothly,,
,nothing but cool, I look good for being on the verge of dehydration. Crossing onto the lake path at Bucktown I'm now sheltered from cars, flying rocks, cigarette butts, bottles, but have to contend with dog walkers and their 300 foot leashes, considerate is not a word that fits that situation. I'm really high , really pumped, smelled home like Ulysses, gonna slay all the suitors after Penelope, Telemachus stay in your room,
Mp3 now playing "Led Zep" ,,"Baby I'm Gonna Leave you ", what a band..More pep in my step , cruising about 18 mile an hour now, past Bonabel Boat launch, past Causeway, admiring the traffic crossing the bridge as the sky starts to redden, the lake starts to glimmer, the edge of the clouds start to glow preparing to announce the end of the day. I see the Power lines at Power Blvd that's my exit, still able to pump up the levee like a champion, fly down the far side at 25 Mph , hopping the curve, turning and staying erect..
Approaching Lafaniere park I can't seem to find the reception committee, no crowds, no cheering, no finish line, only a goose challenging me for the right of way,, I told him, "I just rode over 100 miles , alone , in 93 degrees", he wasn't impressed, he says "so, I flew1000 miles from Canada", big deal. I immediately payed homage to the goose, and crossed West Napoleon , humbly to my driveway, still no crowd, no cheering,, no finish line, I'm alive, I'm alive , I'm alive, I'm alive, hungry, dehydrated, muscles burning, head foggy, but I'm alive. I feel alive, I feel immortal, I feel like every human being should feel, like a conquistador.
Accomplishment,, succeeding , conquering, achieving, it's what we're here for , not just birth, adolescence, maturity, propagation , death, it's all about who picks the time.
Finished with the last song "Something to Believe in " by "Poison"......
gary gauthier
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