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.