Circling the U.S. Chapter 76: Two Days, Two States

Sunday, March 1 - Tuesday, March 3, 2020

We'd heard that the riding along the Gulf Coast in Mississippi was gorgeous. I can't imagine why. There were no stunning rock formations or spectacular dunes. It was just a narrow beach with white sand. The water didn't even look all that clean. We were on U.S. Hwy 90 which ran next to the shore. The road had no shoulder and none of the drivers got the memo to leave three feet between their car and a cyclist. It was unnerving how close some cars passed, so unlike all down the west coast and other roads we'd been on where there haven't been shoulders. I don't think drivers in Mississippi have ever seen a cyclist. A couple times Rob had drivers on bridges yell at him to "Get the f- off the road!"

At least we had another option, which was to ride on a sidewalk next to the beach. It wasn't my idea of choice riding - it was bumpy and narrow - but at least I didn't feel like my life was in danger.

The history of the Gulf Coast is almost synonymous with the history of hurricanes. Expand your view of this picture to read the story of how this tree saved lives.

We could have stopped near this tree for a snack, or there was a restaurant nearby where people were sitting outside. It was all very inviting but we weren't ready for a break and, besides, I told Rob, "I'm sure we'll find some other nice places to stop." We didn't.

Fifty-two miles out of Slidell brought us to Biloxi, Mississippi, where we spent the night at the Southern Comfort RV Park. If this is the definition of southern comfort, then the south is in trouble. The campground was right in town, on the highway, sandwiched between fast food restaurants and a vacant lot. All for the bargain price of $30. At least we didn't have to resort to the fast food restaurants for dinner, as we'd stopped earlier in the day at a grocery store and were well-supplied. If the ambience wasn't worthy of five stars, our three-course dinner was: hummus and chips with beer; sautéed vegies and ravioli with a sprinking of olive oil; and chocolate chip cookies with chamomile tea.

We got an early start on Monday, March 2, leaving at 7:20 in the morning. I was aiming to stop after 20 miles but at 17 we came to a Waffle House. We've been seeing them a lot lately and it occurred to me that we should probably check one out before we wouldn't see them anymore. When I stopped and asked Rob's opinion, he said, "I was thinking the same thing." That happens so much with us. That's probably why, after nine months of being together 24/7 we're still getting along great.

The Waffle House didn't disappoint, if only because our server was determined to make us repeat customers. When my home fries didn't come with the tomatoes I'd ordered, she quickly brought over a new order. But by then I'd realized my over-easy eggs were over-medium. I said, "I'm okay with this, but you might want to mention to the cook that the eggs are over done."

She said, "I'll fix that."

I said, "No, that's too much trouble."

She said, "My job is to make you happy."

The same thing happened when I realized that the cook short-changed the butter on my toast. I think he hadn't woken up yet. But the pecan waffle Rob and I shared was delicious, even if it didn't come with real maple syrup.

We found out that Waffle Houses are a thing throughout the south, as ubiquitous as Starbucks. The food was affordable, tasty, and unhealthy.

After barely 24 hours in Mississippi, we were in Alabama.

A miles-long bridge took us to Dauphin Island.

Lots of miles - 68 of them - went by easily enough, mostly on lightly trafficked highways with smooth wide shoulders. But 68 miles is still 68 miles and at our elderly pace it was still six hours in the saddle. Chuck, our Warm Showers host in Tucson, says that 40 miles can make for a good day's ride. Certainly by 50 I'm happy to stop. The problem is that 40 or 50 miles doesn't always bring us to anywhere worth stopping at.

So we'd continue riding, embracing shorter days when the opportunity presented. We might have been tempted to stop and explore Dauphin Island, but the other major factor always coming into play is the weather. Rain was on the way in a couple days and we had a place to stay in Gulf Breeze, Florida, in 70 miles. We could get there by tomorrow, and take a rest day on Wednesday.

So it looked like another long day with a rest day to look forward to. We were happy for those. Our bodies weren't being kind to us. My hands hurt. Doubling up my handlebar tape helped, but not enough. Sometimes I woke to one or both of them numb. My legs worked just fine while I was on the bike, but off the bike they were always sore. I especially had a hard time walking anything more than a mile or two.

Rob's biggest complaint was his knee. He was diagnosed with arthritis, bone on bone, over a year ago, but the doctor said bicycling would be good for it. Up until Austin it hadn't bothered him riding, only hurting when he walked. But now it hurt all the time. He was toughing it out.

We were thankful for the flat riding, even if sometimes it got a little boring.

We spent Monday night at a pleasant campground on Dauphin Island, which had a shelter with internet access. While we were hanging out after dinner, our daughter, Kylee, called. "Have you been following the news about the coronavirus?" she asked.

I'd already seen that an adaptive skiing event scheduled for late March, for wounded veterans, had been cancelled. I'd volunteered at it last year and was sorry to miss it this year. When I saw it was cancelled I thought, what a bummer for all the people - instructors and veterans - who look forward to it all year. I also thought, thankfully we're not impacted by this coronavirus.

I assured Kylee that we were fine, being mostly out in the middle of nowhere, and that whenever we stayed in a motel we turned on the news and would keep up to date.

Tuesday, March 3, we took the first ferry off the island - five dollars each.

This was only one of several oil rigs we passed on our way back to the mainland.

Our riding included 12 beautiful miles on a bike path that took us through Alabama's Gulf State Park with marshland, woods, benches, and our first alligator sighting. Many other cyclists were out enjoying the great weather, a surprising number for a weekday. We took advantage of one of the many benches along the trail to enjoy our lunch.

That grayish thing across the water in front of the trees is an alligator.

Then we rode on to high rises towering over the beaches along the coast, and Florida.

Circling the U.S. Chapter 76: New Orleans

Thursday, February 27 - Sunday, March 2, 2020 

We had easy riding for 63 miles on Thursday, February 27, into New Orleans, with little wind and flat terrain. The fun part of the ride was about 20 miles on a bike path along the top of the Mississippi River levee.

As we approached New Orleans we had no idea where we were going to spend the night. We hadn't received any replies to our many Warm Showers requests. But as usually happens, Rob and I followed the same line of thinking. Oftentimes our Warm Showers hosts don't live directly in a city, which makes sightseeing, especially at night, a bit of a challenge. So, by the time we were eating lunch on the levee, overlooking the Mississippi, we came to a quick agreement that, rather than follow up our Warm Showers requests with phone calls, we would try to find a hotel room in the French Quarter. We were banking on the hope that the prices wouldn't be too bad after Mardi Gras.

Riding on the levee was fun; crossing the bridge over the Mississippi was not so fun with speeding traffic and a trash-filled shoulder. If someone were to ask what was the most challenging part of this trip, I would have to say bridge crossings. Some are fine, some are not much fun, and some are downright dangerous. This one clocked in somewhere in the middle.

When we entered New Orleans proper we easily found St. Charles Avenue and the heart of the French Quarter. 

St. Charles Avenue is a dangerous street to bicycle on only because I wanted to look at the beautiful mansions rather than pay attention to the traffic and keep my eye out for parked cars. The street was pretty much cleaned up after the Mardi Gras parades, but colored toilet paper still clung to the trees. Someone told us that during the Katrina clean up they took literally tons of beads out of the sewers.

We stopped at a library and did some research, finding a reasonably-priced historic hotel for under $150 a night, the Lamothe House.

This was the view of the enclosed courtyard from our bedroom door. There was also a pool and hot tub. They didn't serve breakfast but had a bowl of fresh fruit available. I would definitely stay here again.

Before going out to dinner we wandered around the French Quarter checking out different music venues. Many of the bars don't have a cover charge, but they require that you order a drink. There was a mix of rock and roll and traditional jazz. Some of the bars were so crowded we couldn't find a seat, or they didn't have any seats. After dinner we found a bar playing excellent traditional jazz, with plenty of seating.

Friday, February 28, we set out to explore the French Quarter.

These signs were just across the street from our hotel. This is the history I'm most interested in.

Street Art

Rob and I always enjoy walking tours of a city. Online research brought us to a free walking tour, pay what you like, $15 suggested. The reviews looked good.

We arrived early at the meeting place in front of the cannon in Washington Artillery Park. Given the umbrella, we had no problem finding David, our tour guide. If his lack of personal grooming and disinclination to chat with early arrivals were any indication, David has lost his enthusiasm for his chosen career. His tour was filled with many interesting historical facts which he shared very quickly and, in case you weren't paying close enough attention and missed something, he answered your question with an impatient edge in his voice. The history was mostly about the rich people who built the buildings in the French Quarter, nothing about the slave trade.

Jackson Square

Faulkner House Books where William Faulkner lived during his time in New Orleans.

The St. Louis Cemetery is the place every tourist visits so we were glad we weren't left out. It is so popular that you can only enter if you are with a tour guide. All the graves are above ground. One will be used for an entire extended family. When you die, you get the top shelf. After a year and one day, the heat and humidity has caused your body to decay enough that you can get relegated to the basement of the crypt with all your ancestors.

After lunch we poked around some art galleries, popped into a free history museum, listened to some live jazz over tea and beignets, then returned to our hotel for a hot tub and nap.

We found this great band hanging out in front of Cafe du Monde. As I've said, music was everywhere.

Rob was interested in jazz; I was interested in Cajun music. Saturday night we went on a long walk to Mulates for dinner and Cajun music. We enjoyed the food and the dancing and the music was pretty good, even if they didn't have a fiddle and nobody played the washboard that was sitting around. However, by now I was feeling pretty pissed off that, throughout our Texas and Louisiana music experience, we had seen only a handful of women performing. I cannot imagine that they are all home taking care of babies. Where are they?

Two nights and one day were not nearly enough time to soak up all that New Orleans has to offer. But our budget wouldn't let us stay longer and the road was calling. We had miles yet to ride. 

Saturday, February 29, we headed out of New Orleans for Slidell where we had plans to visit an old friend. We left our hotel around 8:30 in the morning, aiming to get through the city before everyone got out of church. But we didn’t get very far, just a half mile, when we passed a small neighborhood bakery/cafe, and decided it was worth a stop for a pastry. When we saw the menu, we decided it was worth a stop for a second breakfast. We had no trouble agreeing to share a crab, spinach, and brie cheese omelette.

A donut with breakfast or a cupcake for a dollar at a bakery known for its cakes?  Should we flip a coin or get one of each?

While we were waiting in line to place our order, I got to chatting with the woman behind me who was clearly a local who frequented the restaurant. She told us that we could order a cupcake for just a dollar since we were ordering a meal. “They’re known for their cakes,” she said.

Then the man in front of us said, “The frosted donuts are my favorite. They’re cake donuts.”

“Too many choices,” I said.

But then the choice was made for us when the man in front said, “I’ve paid for a donut for you.” That donut was up there with the best we've had.

The crab, spinach, and brie cheese omelette was incredible, too, and it came with a homemade biscuit. 

When people ask what was our favorite part of this trip, I might have to say that it is finding secret gems, always a surprise, whether it's a tea shop, a local cafe, or a beautiful campground.

We'd heard that heading east out of New Orleans would be a challenge because of the water we'd have to cross. One of the bridges was on the interstate, bicycles not allowed. (And this could be strictly enforced. We'd heard that the police might not let you just get off the next exit but will make you turn around and go back the way you came.) Another bridge was closed for construction. When I finally called the state police I found out that the bridge on U.S. Route 90 was legal and shouldn't be a problem for a bicyclist. When we got to the bridge, it was another case of worrying for nothing.

The riding to Slidell was lovely. We took U.S. Route 90 all the way to Slidell and it was mostly just a quiet country road, past Lake Catherine, even over the bridge.

We met a young cyclist heading west from Wilmington, North Carolina. Twenty-four years old, he’d never been out of Wilmington and decided it was time to see the world and was thoroughly enjoying himself. He warned us about the bridge out of Pensacola in Florida. It's a new bridge, but the bike lane isn't finished so cyclists have to ride in the middle where there's an emergency lane. He said it was pretty scary riding with traffic speeding on both sides and no barriers. After retiring one bridge worry I had another to take its place.

We passed many homes with signs indicating they were vacation "camps" for fishing.

Back when we entered Louisiana Rob had encouraged me to look up the parents of one of my former violin students. I had taught RJ for a number of years. During that time Rob and I enjoyed sharing some special occasions with his parents Charles and Donna. Charles grew up in Slidell and had kept the family home. He and Donna would visit Slidell often, sometimes staying for several months. Their dream was to retire there. 

After I stopped teaching RJ we lost touch with his family so I didn't have any recent contact information. Sadly, an online search uncovered Donna's obituary. I always enjoyed spending time with her. She was one of those people who follow a strong moral compass, overwhelmingly generous. I am so sorry to have missed saying good-bye to her.

I did finally get Charles' phone number, called him, and found out he was in Slidell, just north of New Orleans.

Thirty-five miles brought us to Charles' home in Slidell where he is spending his retirement. He and his lady friend Jill insisted we spend the night and we enjoyed a dinner out at their favorite local restaurant. Charles told me that he was glad we stopped by and shared stories with Jill from his life with Donna and the years spent bringing up their children. I guess those memories come alive more readily when shared among several people.

Charles grew up in a house down the road. Katrina destroyed it. He and Donna rebuilt, then sold it and bought this one. 

Slidell would be our last stop in Louisiana.