10/8 Show Low, AZ
After three attempts to get out of Ivins, forgetting small things like my wallet, we forged our way south through Hurricane, Hilldale and on to Flagstaff, where my eyes always seem to have a special appreciation for the San Francisco Peaks.
The Prius blazed through Winslow, home of the girl in the flatbed Ford, and into a gradual ascent of the White Mountains, a pinion covered high altitude region of small, rounded peaks and towns with names like Snow Flake and Show Low.
We ultimately landed in Show Low, where we went to visit our old buddies, Jim and Linda Gleason, who live there in the summer, and Steve and Fay Blum, who were just passing through town. It was a wonderful visit with much laughing and silliness.
10/9 Silver City, NM
The drive into New Mexico was long and slow, as the road seemed to get narrower and more winding as the day wore on. Sure there were highlights, such as the verdant Ponderosa Pine forest near Alpine, Arizona, but mostly it was hair pin turns, scrub pinion and endless look alike washes.
Upon finally making it into Silver City, my first thought was, “This is certainly no St. George. I’m not selling our little home in Eagle Rock to move here.” However, both Kim and I were impressed with its funky downtown, a collection of off beat galleries, restaurants and bars. A few of the older buildings had been renovated and were looking pretty, but most had a rough looking edge edge to them. Young people, looking either gothic or relaxed “hip,” were wandering the quiet, Sunday dead streets. I liked the feel of the town and the people we met scored an “A+” on my friendly meter.
10/10 Silver City, NM
Biked 44 miles
Kim and I took off into the mountains on our bikes, climbing several thousands of feet, as we pedaled past Pinos Altos and on to the top of a hogback overlooking two high altitude, pine blanketed canyons.
First of all, it was a really, really tough ride. Secondly, if you could get over the pain associated with leg and lung fatigue, it was extremely pleasant, as the narrow, winding road wound through a mature Ponderosa forest and periodically opened up to nice vistas of the wooded hills and valleys.
I also appreciated the fact that the drivers were polite and considerate, which is not a universal situation. Mr. Red Neck Utah, the spandex hating hog of the road, could take some lessons in Silver City on how to “drive nice” in the proximity of bikers. We found out later that Silver City is a big road bike mecca with a major race on the American Pro circuit. Due to this situation, it seems that people tend to like bikers and are more cognizant of giving you extra room as they pass.
10/11 Sonora, TX
Biked 35 miles
It suddenly dawned on me, as I laid in our tent dreading the thought of having to go to the bathroom, that it was October in mountains, and it was damned cold outside the balmy confines of my down mummy bag. Nevertheless, I must admit that the quality of my sleep at our $28 camping spot at the KOA was far better and more comfortable than the stuffy motel room in Show Low.
Kim and I drove about 20 miles out of Silver City to the Mimbres River Valley junction for our morning ride. Surrounded by barren, arid hills, the isolated, heavily chipped sealed road meandered through undulating terrain. Unfortunately, we found a nasty head wind on our return to the car. It was a good ride, but again, tough going.
Upon our return to the Prius, we immediately changed clothes and charged down the highway. We drove by the retirement haven, Los Cruces, fought our way through a never ending, crazed congestion of traffic in metropolitan El Paso, and then found ourselves on the nicest interstate system in the country. Our little Prius was a stellar performer, as we set the cruise control at 81 mph and sat back for hour after hour to watch the miles and miles of Texas melt away into the rear view mirror.
We limped into a small town, Sonora, late in the evening, exhausted, butt sore and body aching, but pleased with our effort for the day. We were half way to Alabama.
10/12 Fredericksburg, TX
Our plans for the day, which entailed a bike ride in the hill country of Texas, were wiped out by the blazing hot temperatures and high humidity of Fredericksburg. When we rolled out of a German restaurant, where we had enjoyed the best meal of the trip, the temperature was already 88 degrees. The heat hit me like a ton of bricks. I no more wanted to ride bike than go to Hell, which Texas was feeling like at that particular moment.
Instead we drove to Luckenbach, where Willie, Waylon and the other Outlaws got their start in music. The adjectives “rustic” and “character” don’t even begin to describe it. Roosters had their run of the place, climbing up on the benches and tables where we sat, and it was nothing more than a series of dilapidated, old shacks surrounding a bunch of picnic tables and a crude bandstand. Old license plates, from nearly every state, decorated the walls of the bathroom building, inside and out.
We sat around waiting for the music for at least an hour, which was tough duty in the afternoon heat. Finally, at 5:00 P.M., ShAnnie began to play. It was a very low key affair, with a husband and wife team sitting under the shade of a big tree strumming and singing. Soon they were joined by other musicians, including the bartender, who accompanied them with his harmonica. All in all, it was nice. It was certainly a good alternative to baking on the shoulder of some Texas highway with my Bianchi.
10/13 Fredericksburg, TX
Biked 36 miles
Kim and I attempted to get moving earlier than usual to beat the afternoon heat. We rode north of town, following a course mapped by Bike Texas. It was mostly quiet, rural roads that rolled up and down through the hill country. The terrain was mostly forested and the roads were smooth as silk. One hardly ever saw an automobile. It was pretty idyllic.
We stayed at the Magnolia House B & B that night. The house was an older home of grand proportions with antique furniture. I liked the fact that one could spread out to read or relax away from the bedroom. The much touted breakfast was miniscule but tasty. It was a pleasant alternative after our nights at the KOA and Day’s Inn.
10/14 Baton Rouge, LA
After finishing our 10:00 A.M. breakfast, we piled into the Toyota for a marathon day of driving. All went well until Houston, where we were stalled in five mph traffic for a good half hour.
The rest of the day was “white knuckle,” as we found I-12 reduced to two lanes and heavily travelled. I was so tense by the time we hit Baton Rouge that I ached from my left heel to the base of my neck.
Louisiana was a pleasant change in scenery, as the drive into bayou country meant huge corridors of lush green trees and grass. At one point, we drove for 18 miles on an elevated roadway above a gorgeous, endless swamp with the sun setting in the western horizon. It was good to leave the parched brown dead zone of Texas behind us.
We topped off a tense, crappy day by eating $54 of deep fried, tasteless seafood at Don’s Cajun Cuisine. It was one of the most disgusting meals of my life and the perfect recipe for massive heartburn, which attacked almost immediately upon exiting the restaurant. Thank God, Don had an ample supply of ice cold beer, so it wasn’t a total loss.
10/15 Tuscaloosa, AL
It was another long day behind the wheel. We finally rolled into Tuscaloosa about 3:00 P.M. and drove immediately to Larry’s lake house, where we were treated to our own private lodging.
That night we went to their town house to watch Alabama totally destroy Old Miss, 51-7. The game was boring, but it was fun to hang out with their friends and watch them get excited about the Tide dismantling their overwhelmed opponent. Pam and two of her female buddies did push ups every time Alabama got a first down. By the end of the game, they were very strong women.
10/16 Tuscaloosa, AL
Biked 42 miles
Larry and Pam took us on a classic rambling ride outside the city. Our course wound through a densely forested area on a series of smooth, quiet roads. When we did see a human being or automobile, people went out of their way to smile, call out a greeting and wave. I know that I’m no expert on the region, but Southerners seem more polite and friendly than folks in other regions of our country.
After the ride, we returned to the lake place to clean up and do laundry. Soon we were back at the town home, and off walking, actually smoking down the sidewalks at a four mph pace to the Ken-tuck Art Festival. Kim and I honestly surveyed the exhibits and considered buying something for Wyoming, but balked at the last minute. We then sat around listening to some great music until our power walk home.
Larry and Pam treated us to beers and dinner in their backyard, which was the ultimate way to complete a wonderful, action packed 10 hours of Southern Hospitality. All in all, it may have been the best day of our cross country expedition.
10/17 Hohenwald, TN
60 miles
Unfortunately, the day started at 4:20 A.M. with our little alarm clock loudly spewing out its venom. I hadn’t really slept anyway, so it didn’t matter.
The rest of the day was like wandering around in a sleep deprived fog. We got to the start of the Natchez Trace only to find that I had forgotten our water bottles. Thankfully, there was a bike shop a few feet away from the start, so I was able to immediately take care of that crisis. Once on the road itself, the brain fog seemed to lift slightly as the day wore on.
The Trace is simply the nicest country road in the world for a bicycle. There’s no traffic because of a reduced speed limit of only 50 mph, the surface is smooth as silk, and the scenery, a mixed forest covering rolling hills with an occasional barn or farm house, is gorgeous. The only negative was the 2030 feet of elevation gain and head wind blowing in our face. It was a challenging ride, but well, well worth the effort.
We closed out the day at the Meriwether Lewis National Monument. We visited the cabin where he took his life. It was a sad way to end a wonderful day in a beautiful place.
10/18 Iuka, MS
63 miles
The big news, big fear of the day was the predicted storm and cold weather front that was supposed to completely upend our lives and destroy all bicycle vacations for the next ten years. With doom heavily on our minds, we crawled out of bed extra early to start our day. Sure there were clouds, but in reality, it was actually a much nicer, much more pleasant day to ride a bicycle. I had finally scored a good night’s sleep, so I felt absolutely giddy about life and my black, Italian sweetheart, Sophia Loren Bianchi.
Kim and I, who were the designated drivers for the day, drove to our appointed spot and then roared uphill at light speed to meet up with Larry and Pam near Dogwood Mudhole, where we turned around for an easy cruise back into Collingwood, Tennessee. I found it incredible that many of the trees had turned over night. The reds seemed redder, and the entire deciduous forest was filled with more color than the day before. The roadway was borderline stunning in places, almost packing a neon presence.
After a short break at the visitor center, we hit the road again to see Mr. Hendrick’s famous rock wall at milepost 338. Apparently, in honor of his deceased grandmother, he had hauled over 25 million pounds of rock to build a four foot high wall that is also four feet thick. He is a Native American from a small tribe, and according to him, this was a traditional way to honor the deceased. Once the project started, people came to see this monument and with it, rocks from all over the world funneled their way onto his wall. Mr. Hendricks is a very friendly, personable man who loves showing you his rocks and telling stories about them. It was a wonderful visit.
Kim and I powered back to Collingwood, threw our bikes on top of the car and sped off to Robber’s Roost to pick up the Pierson’s. It had been one of the great cycling days in my life.
A great day became even better with our dinner stop at a local Iuka diner, the Downtowner. I had so imagined myself relishing every bite of Southern cuisine, and up to this point, it hadn’t met my preconceived notion of utter bliss. I thought my taste buds would be doing continual back flips in my mouth over fried chicken, catfish, ham hocks and okra. Iuka was to be the intersection between my dreams and reality. Larry and Pam offered their expertise in helping us order the total Southern delight. We started with appetizers, deep fried green tomatoes and deep fried dill pickles, and I then devoured the most delicious meal of the trip, shrimp and grits, which was flavored with bacon. Kim had catfish, which she found light and flakey. We topped it off by splitting a piece of chess pie. I left that restaurant very fat and extremely happy.
10/19 Tupelo, MS
56 miles
BRRRRRR! We awoke to a very cold, gray and windy day. Even though we had intentionally scheduled our departure for later than usual, it was still miserably cold. We were all bundled up to the maximum and could barely waddle off to our bikes, much less pedal them down the street.
The bad news seemed to grow exponentially, as we found out that Pam was ill and wouldn’t be able to ride due to a reaction to a bug bite. Thankfully, she seemed better as the day progressed.
The ride itself was more beautiful, wooded, rolling hills filled with intermittent autumn colors. Some of the highlights were seeing ancient Indian burial mounds, the Tenn-Tom waterway, which is a recently completed canal system, and a Confederate grave site of unknown soldiers near the Old Trace.
The ride was nice and I enjoyed it, but due to the wind and gloomy cold, I was really ready for the Holiday Inn Express, where we enjoyed “Welcome Hour” beers and a hot bowl of chili. After soaking in a hot bath for 10 minutes, my frail, tender little body began to thaw.
10/20 French Camp, MS
73 miles
Unfortunately, I experienced a very long night, where my stomach was a battle zone between the chili I had for lunch and the mediocre Italian fare I had consumed for dinner. I laid in bed all night farting and moaning, wishing for sleep to come. Alas, it was not to be.
Due to my lack of slumber and the day’s forecast of cold and windy, I was more than a little apprehensive about hopping on my bike. My concern was groundless. The bright autumn sun warmed us every time we broke out of the early morning shadows and the treed corridor protected us from the wind.
We pounded the pedals hard all day long, but I never really tired and the lack of quality slumber didn’t seem to factor into the equation. I was really a great day to be alive and on a bicycle.
Perhaps one of the most interesting places along the Trace is an absolute “dead zone” caused by a nasty tornado last April. It was mile after mile of utter destruction. Huge oak trees, with trunks the size of three telephone poles, were snapped in half like a match stick. I was amazed to see that foliage was growing back in little tufts on the sides of the remaining trunks. In other cases, parasitic vines had nearly fully covered the stripped bare trunks, which stood like endless Roman columns into the horizon.
A few miles out from our lunch break, as I was pedaling by a picnic spot on the road, I noticed an older motor home pulling out of the parking lot. There stood a cute black and white, beagle mix puppy. We had eye contact and immediately he was scampering down the road after me. I kept going for a good while, doing at least 20 mph, thinking that he would give up and go home. I made the mistake of slowing down and looking back. He hadn’t given up. He was still scampering down the road like I was his daddy and he hadn’t seen me for five years. I pulled over and got off my bike. He finally stopped, looking at me with some anxiety. I don’t know why I did it, but I yelled, “Come here, boy!” He bounded up to me with his tail wagging and a goofy smile on his face. I started petting him, calling him “Natchez,” and before I knew it, Kim and I had flagged down Sag Driver Joe and our little puppy was on his way to our next night’s lodging at French Camp.
After an easy 72 miles, we pulled into French Camp, one of the most interesting, exciting places I’ve ever enjoyed as my lodging. At the center of the complex stands an old mansion built in the 1840’s, which is now a museum. All of the outbuildings, probably slave quarters or the homes of poor plantation workers, have been renovated into cafes, stores, and lodging. All are rustic, built with axe hewed square logs and cedar slat roofing, and are overflowing with character. Old implements used in the 19th century are exhibited around the highly manicured grounds, and in front of our cabin, a crew of students were harvesting sugar cane down by the creek. Our room was small and basic, but warm and clean. We had all that one needs in lodging and were absolutely overloaded with “atmosphere.”
One of the real reasons I loved French Camp so much is that it’s an institution formed to help struggling kids. I was told that it’s a boarding school for teenagers with difficult home lives. I don’t really know how it works, but apparently the students are admitted when they are no longer in a safe, productive situation at home. They live in a dorm, go to school, and then are all required to work in some capacity around the complex. The institution is funded by a collection of churches.
We had a great dinner that night at the French Camp Cafe: Cajun roast beef sandwiches, broccoli salad and potato soup, followed by Mississippi mud pie. We tipped wildly at the end of the meal, knowing that we were supporting a struggling high school student who was trying to make something of her life.
10/21 Clinton, MS
101 miles
It was so, so very cold at the start of our ride. When we hit the road at 8:00 A.M., it was 32 degrees and all of the grass was frosted. Stupidly, I hadn’t realized that it was a good idea to bring our mittens and that we would be starting early in mornings, so with my fingerless biking gloves, I was reduced to stopping four times in the first five miles to warm up.
The difficult start melted away with the sun’s rays and soon we were absolutely ripping down the highway. The Trace’s surface is ultra smooth, so your wheels really roll here. With normal effort, I was averaging 20-23 mph, screaming down the highway hour after hour.
We had lunch by the scenic Pearl River, visited a gorgeous cypress swamp nearby and then rolled by the beautiful blue waters of Ross Barnett Reservoir. We fought our way through increased traffic around Jackson, a city of a half million, and finally pulled up at our end destination, Osburn Stand, with 90 miles on the odometer. Since Larry and Pam were out getting their miles for a century, Kim and I were shamed into getting back on the road to complete our second 100 mile ride ever. Damn, were we proud of ourselves! I savored every drop of our congratulatory beer that night.
We ate dinner at a restaurant down the street from the Hampton Inn. The waitress suggested fried catfish with a special crawfish sauce and jump up salad dressing for my greens. It was another supreme, divine, Southern delight.
10/22 Natchez, MS
47 miles
We started our day by driving a few miles down the Trace to the quaint little village of Port Graham, where main street is lined by well kept old stores and churches. Lore has it that Ulysses S. Grant pronounced Port Graham too pretty to burn, while others say he didn’t torch it because he had a mistress in the community. Nevertheless, I was impressed with the physical beauty of the community, and was especially enamored by a large golden index finger pointing towards heaven on the steeple of one of the churches.
We took off riding on a winding country road, climbing through a dense forest. A large leafed, vine plant called kudzu, which was imported from Japan to help with erosion, had totally taken over huge swaths of the forest. Kudzu climbed up the trunks of trees, eventually choking the life out of the host oak or maple, over the top of houses and down steep valleys. It provided a beautiful, manicured appearance, making one think he was looking at a decorative house plant in the largest pot in the world. However, it was easy to see that it was the Western pine beetle for the forests of the Southeast, undoubtably devastating huge swatches of old growth.
A few miles out of Port Graham, Larry and Pam led us up a narrow dirt road under a heavily treed canopy. When we rounded the corner, we were amazed to find at least two dozen, two story high pillars from the burned out remains of the Windsor Plantation. It was like stumbling upon an old Roman ruin deep in the jungle, since dense vegetation was encroaching on all sides. As we walked around the columns, it was hard to imagine the grandeur of the palace and how such wealth could have been amassed on a cotton plantation. The owner was obviously a Bill Gates of his time.
As we moved closer to Alcorn State College, a surge of traffic flowed by us on the narrow road. It was Homecoming against Concordia, and you could see everyone in a 50 mile radius was pretty excited about the game.
Disaster struck a few miles later, when we turned onto a busy four lane highway with a bike lane on the side. One could instantly see we were near campus, as the road surface was a continual clutter of broken glass from beer bottles carelessly thrown out the windows of passing cars. Students + Parties + Cars = tossed beer bottles. Universal situation, no matter where one lives in the world.
I weaved and juked, in and out, dodging glass in the bike lane like I was an Bama back running through the LSU line, while Larry intelligently rode out in the traffic where the road was relatively clean. All of a sudden, to my utter dismay, I could feel my back tire start to do its tell tale “thump, thump, thump” and I braked to a stop. I was flat as Kansas. I told Kim, who had been riding behind me, to ride ahead to tell Larry and Pam about my status, and that I would catch up in a few minutes. I immediately went to work to fix the tire. As I looked down at my spare tube, in preparation of putting it on, I was shocked to find that it had a hole the size of a small poodle near the stem. After having at least fifty uncaring automobiles drive by me, each coldly ignoring my entreaties to stop, I was finally able to flag down a car driven by an angel, who said that she would relay the message that I needed another tube. I waited and waited. Time seemed to be frozen in mud with concrete poured on top of it. It wasn’t moving. Finally, I could see a little speck on the horizon, Larry, riding back to me. I frantically hustled to put on Kim’s spare tube, obviously pinching it in my haste, and damn if it didn’t pop when I tried to blow it up. The last resort was Larry’s spare. He took the wheel out of my hands and gently kneaded the tire back onto the rim. As he inflated it with his small hand pump, I nervously held my breath. I was sure it was going to be another failure, as it seemed that I was doomed on this day. Shockingly, it held. We were on the road again.
Pam, Kim and I finished the day riding the church loop while Larry rode back into Port Graham to get the car. It was another classic rural ride, featuring old churches and plantation houses. We actually got off our bikes to walk the grounds at the Episcopalian Church at Church Hill. It was interesting wandering through the grave yard, where we found head stones of people born in the 1700’s.
The Natchez Trace bike ride ended for us at Emerald Mound, the grand daddy of Indian burial mounds in the region. We climbed to the top of the layer of the giant mound to look down on an elevated flat area, where one could easily lay out a football field and have plenty of room for bleachers. It would be an impressive pile of dirt by today’s standards, but when you thought about the fact that all of the dirt was moved by hand, using crude implements and baskets, it was absolutely stunning. It would have been a major undertaking to build it using a fleet of modern earth movers and dump trucks.
Our group of 17 bikers had an enjoyable last supper at the Italian restaurant down the street from our hotel, the Eola. I had a jambalaya pasta that was good, but the real star of the night was my Abita Amber, possibly the greatest thing to come out of the state of Louisiana since Jerry Lee Lewis.
10/23 St. Francisville, LA
Larry and Pam had planned the Angola Prison Rodeo and Arts and Crafts show as the culminating activity for the our week together. I really didn’t have any expectations for the day and hadn’t really given it much thought, but once our car was rolling down a rural Louisiana highway towards the institution I started to get excited.
Our Angola experience started inside a museum located outside the prison gate. It was interesting to see a model cell and read the history of the prison. It featured inmate manufactured weapons, famous convicts, escape stories and Gruesome Gertie, the infamous electric chair.
We entered the rodeo grounds to wander through a massive art fair selling inmate produced art and furniture. There were also numerous concessions selling everything from Cajun cuisine to deep fried Coca Cola. Kim and I slowly worked our way through the mass of humanity that was moving through the fair, stopping to examine many of the wood bowls and some paintings. We also listened to two bands playing music on the grounds. We were on our way back to listen to the country band when we spotted a pencil drawing of the Wyoming cowboy riding his bronco. Soon we were talking to the artist, Matthew Morgan, about his art. He told us that he was a convict, serving 20 years for a bar fight involving guns. He introduced us to his mother and then his wife of two years, a beautiful woman from Idaho. We thanked him and said we would think about the picture. After an extremely short consult, we were back talking to Matthew, where he made us a deal we could not refuse. We ended up buying two pieces of his work, the other a charcoal of a stage coach, for $225. The price was more than fair and we felt good knowing that we were helping out someone down on his luck. He really seemed like a genuinely decent human being.
Kim and I were both troubled by seeing the prisoners locked up like farm animals. You couldn’t help but feel empathy for them, as their lives were hard at Angola State Prison. In the back of your mind, you knew that they all did terrible things to land themselves in such circumstances, and that they deserved to be locked up; however, it gave you a awful feeling in the pit of your stomach to see a fellow human being caged. We had the opportunity to talk to a few of the artists, and they all seemed positive about life and excited to be able to participate in the art fair. The money they were earning, they were able to keep 78% of the proceeds from their sales, would make a huge difference in their level of comfort during their incarceration.
The actual rodeo was two hours of slick, high energy entertainment. The convicts weren’t the greatest cowboys in the world, but where they lacked in skill they more than made up with courage and determination. It was obvious that the rodeo was a very big deal for them. Many of them took some heavy hits from the stock, especially the events featuring bulls, but you could see that it was worth the gamble of personal injury to simply have the freedom to do something “normal.” The rodeo also featured spider monkeys riding Australian Shepards, the Wildman from Utah doing motorcycle tricks and many thrilling “bull in a china closet” events.
I would put the day at Angola as one of the most memorable, most entertaining of all things I’ve experienced in my travels. It was definitely the best single thing in our 4500 mile cross country expedition.
10/24 Vicksburg, MS
After 5 1/2 hours in the Pierson-mobile returning to Tuscaloosa, Kim and I jumped in the Prius to start our long drive west. We pulled into Vicksburg at dark to rent a cheap hotel room for the night. It was a long, uneventful “car” day.
10/25 Rockdale, TX
We started the day by going through the Vicksburg Battlefield National Monument. The setting was beautiful, as it is located on a steep, hilly area overlooking the Mississippi River. The grounds, which are actually spread out over an area that is covered by 18 miles of road, are manicured green grass surrounded by native forest. We drove and wandered among an endless collection of huge granite monuments, statues, hundreds of cannons, and a large cemetery, which saddened me when I thought about the 20,000 young men laid to rest there. It seemed silly that they would fight and lose their lives over some abstract concept that in all likelihood had little impact on their lives. The park service also had on display a vintage iron clad, the U.S.S. Cairo, which had been sunk by a Confederate mine.
We liked seeing the battlefield, but both commented that it wasn’t what we had expected. We had anticipated a more interactive memorial, where the visitor would see how the soldiers lived and died. The many monuments were nice, but seemingly, the volume of them cheapened the individuals being memorialized. After stopping to read the first dozen, you would simply drive by the other 360 lining the roadway. I guess I felt that it didn’t connect me to the fact that these were real people who gave their lives for a cause.
Upon completing the monument, we hit the road with a vengeance. It was nine straight hours into the heart of Texas, stopping only to eat at a tolerable Mexican restaurant. Finally, with darkness and fatigue ganging up on us, we bought a room at the local Comfort Inn in Rockdale, Texas.
10/26 Carlsbad, NM
Unfortunately, our plans of stopping in the Hill Country of Texas to ride bicycle on our way home were totally blown away. When we pulled into Fredericksburg, we found the trees laid over sideways by the wind and the national weather service promising rain and cold to go with it. After a brief walk around the downtown area, we hopped back in the Toyota and drove hard into west Texas.
It was a very, very long sit and we limped into Carlsbad, New Mexico bone tired, hungry and grouchy. The 45 minute wait for a table at Chili’s didn’t do much to improve our attitudes, but I must admit, the hamburger and fries were outstanding.
10/27 Santa Fe, NM
We woke up to a 50 degree temperature swing and light drizzle. Considering that our plans for the day involved caving, it seemed like the perfect tourist solution for the 33 degree weather outside our hotel room.
The Carlsbad Caverns are immense. We walked down a steep, winding asphalt trail into the cavern for two miles before we came to the Big Room, where the trail looped in a large figure eight for an additional mile and a half. Kim and I really enjoyed it, but after awhile the massive stalactites, stalagmites, soda straws and limestone boulders all seemed to blend together. What had been, “Whoa, this is really amazing!” at the beginning, had turned to, “Do you think we’re getting close to the exit?”
Exhausted of driving, we begrudgingly hopped back into the Prius for the drive to Santa Fe to see Sue, Kim’s sister. We mostly saw barren, lifeless waste land and actually drove through snow as we climbed towards Santa Fe. Perhaps the highlight was seeing the world famous Space Alien Museum and Research Center at Roswell, New Mexico. Although we didn’t actually visit this renowned institution, due to travel fatigue, it was a special feeling just seeing it, such as one would get when viewing the Eiffel Tower or Grand Canyon. I really wanted a baseball hat from there, so I could be like my cool friend, Richard Cline, but just couldn’t face adding time to the rest of our drive.
Sue served us a great homemade meal, pot roast, and we then gathered around the television to watch one of the classic World Series games in history, as the Cardinals came back to beat the Rangers in an absolute thriller.
10/28 Santa Fe, NM
Sue took us for a long walk down a wash near her subdivision in the morning. We then loaded up and went for lunch and a cursory tour of the downtown area. It was then time for our tour at the Native Arts Research Center to see hundreds of beautiful, ancient pots and baskets. I really enjoyed seeing the quality and size of the pots and other assorted Native art forms. It made me think of my days living in Western Alaska among the Yupik people.
10/29 Santa Fe, NM
We were out early in the morning for a thorough walk around downtown Santa Fe. I admired the architecture and statues that lined the streets everywhere. It really is a beautiful city with its art and Spanish flare.
Sue went out of her way to show us a great time and proudly show off her new city. We were very happy for her and enjoyed visiting Santa Fe.
Reflections:
As a whole, the “Away in Dixieland” auto/bike marathon was a total success. We really liked seeing a huge swath of our country, and because of it, are more in love with our nation than ever. The United States is one amazing country.
Not all of the topography along our drive was beautiful, as we found out in New Mexico and West Texas, but where ever we stopped, we found the people to be friendly and helpful in every case. They set us straight on our directions, gave advice on where to ride bike and helped us order the best meal offered on the menu.
I really liked the Deep South the best, as it’s vibrantly green, polite and culturally different than where I live in the West. We like our sports, but they take it to another level in Dixie. They love their deep fried food, while we eat dried chicken breasts and spinach. They smile and greet each other, taking time to be civil towards their fellow human being. We walk right by without engaging in eye contact.
The actual Natchez Trace is an amazing place to ride a bicycle. It’s pretty, peaceful, historically interesting and the road surface is a dream for the road biker. Larry talked to a cyclist from Maryland who stated that it was boring, since much of the terrain and vegetation looked the same. From my perspecive, it was mammoth trees of every variety in various fall colors, and hauntingly quiet surroundings, where the only noise you would hear was the deer bounding away from you in the woods or a squirrel dropping nuts from high in a tree. We rode beside an endless, manicured lawn on each side of the road, as the park service mowed the barrow pits and adjacent terrain right up to the edge of the woods. Even though it was autumn, the vegetation still glowed green. How could this be boring? Larry was right, he should have pushed the guy off his bike. He didn’t deserve to ride something as special as the Natchez Trace.
