I've got the whole set

After a "bad" day yesterday I was hoping for a better day today. To do that I'd need an early start, better weather and some new inspirations. Check, check and check!

I was on the road by 7 this morning, albeit without more than a cup of coffee. I picked up highway 90 just a few blocks from the motel and rode it most of the day. It took me to the east corner of the Crescent City and across a bridge. Before you could say "ya'll come back now, hear?" I found myself crossing an old bridge into the town of Pearlington, Missisippi.

You can't see it in my lowly picture but there are ducks, alligators and other critters crawling on the sign

I was disappointed that I saw no sign at the border so I stopped at a gas/convenience store at the cross roads on the east end of the bridge. I bought a bottle of water from the young lady and she was nice enough to answer some questions for me.

Yes, I had just crossed into Mississippi at the bridge but it seems that they are the forgotten people. The Welcome to Alabama sign was just a bit further down the highway.

Yes, I recalled correctly that during Katrina the press had covered the suffering and devastation of the populace in New Orleans but the storm hit the shoreline east of there with even more force. From the state line to Biloxi was crippled. The poor folks in Pearlington were not claimed by Mississippi or Louisiana, yet the entire town was wiped out. Every single house in town was lost, as far as inhabitability. She pointed to the pole next to the gas pump that used to be a light pole. There was a piece of metal welded across it, like a mast, at a position that was well beyond my reach. 

"That was the water level the day after Katrina hit. Every one in town lost their home, everyone! Mississippi couldn't help us, same with Louisiana. We had a team of volunteers come in here and set up a camp on our baseball field. They came from around the world. It was incredible". 

The storm surge was 24 feet deep and it pushed water 22 miles inland (I told you it was flat). She aid that some of the older folks still talk of Camille (1969), but no one recalled it ever being worse than Katrina.

I then went outside and helped three old timers figure out how to fix the political system. I pretty much just listened, they had most of it figured out already.

About a mile down the road I did find the promised state-line sign

As I rolled through Long Beach, then Gulfport, I was noticing some of the old mansions on the north side of the road. As Gulfport turned seemlessly into Biloxi, I came to Beauvoir, the home of Jefferson Davis.

The estate was the last home of Jeff Davis and includes his museum and Presidential Library

Having never viewed the Civil War from the POV of the Confederacy I was anxious to go in and look around. There were some interesting displays and, in several rooms, a video showing that told the story of his life before and after the war. It was an interesting visit and one that I might spend more time at if I ever come back to Biloxi.

One of the most interesting parts was not Jefferson Davis but the building and grounds themselves. When I was upstairs near the museum I saw a picture of the "Piano Tree".

Nearby was an explanation. I had not thought about how this landmark was affected by Katrina until I saw the picture of this antique piano that was found high up in one of the broken trees on the grounds. They were able to get it down but are still trying to raise funds to have it restored. It will need a lot of restoration. 

I inquired in the gift shop and was told that Katrina had pretty much destroyed Beauvoir. Six of the seven buildings on the grounds had been destroyed and they had lost 300 trees. In fact, the building I had toured was only 3 years old! I did find this picture of the original house

In watching the video I further found out that Beauvoir was only the last house that Jeff lived in. It was the family mansion of a family friend who took in the defeated and broken CSA President after he bounced around from Mississippi to Canada to England and Europe to Memphis, then eventually back to Biloxi.

Just across the bay bridge (one of several dozen I have crossed in the last week) was Ocean Springs, Ms. As it was lunch time I was delighted to spot this wonderful eatery. 

I ate there, took pictures and bought the T-shirt! I had the Froggy Cheese steak.

Froggy's travel philosophy. This frog, by the way, is named Fred (I think he still owes me a race)

After a very good lunch I aimed my bike east again, still on highway 90, until I spotted the Gulf Coast Gator Ranch on the north side of Orange Grove, Ms. This was too good to pass up, a gator farm and another form of transportation! I had to stop.

An air boat! Flying on the water!

We spotted a couple of big uglies but spent most of the time doing figure 8's and 360's in some of the nastiest looking water imaginable. I must say I did not thoroughly enjoy the ride because of visions of my Dad at Lake of the Woods in Canada dancing in my head. Details available upon request.

It was only a few more miles up the road where I crossed into Alabama (the parking lot at the gator farm had parking reserved for LSU fans and another section for 'Bama fans. I couldn't get them to tell me which group they used for bait). As I rolled across the state line I completed a list of states I have visited in my lifetime, a list that was started when there were only 48 names on it. I've got the complete set, although I do intend to add Alaska next year!

From the Bama line I headed south toward Dauphin Island to take the ferry across the outer banks to Fort Morgan. It had been a great day but that all came screeching to a halt on Dauphin Island. The 1/2 hour ferry crossing is normally serviced by two boats but one was "down" for the day and I had just missed the previous boat. The weather had been nice and coolishly overcast all day, but as I parked my bike the hot sun came out swinging. As I shut the engine off I discovered that I and the others in line had nearly an hour and a half wait. Just enough to meet a few people and befriend them so that they were tolerant of our mutual discovery that the pitching and yawing of a ferry was sufficient to set off the motion alarm on a Harley Fat Boy!

By the time we reached Fort Morgan it was late, I was hot and tired, and the battery on my phone had gone dead. I rode as far as the highway took me before it split. I didn't know where I was or where I needed to go. Sounded like the perfect time to call it quits, only a few miles shy of crossing into Florida. But I discovered that, in addition to me being behind schedule, so is Tropical Storm Colin. It was supposed to hit Tampa by today. Instead it is supposed to hit Tallahassee tomorrow. This could get interesting, so am I!

I believe I am in Gulf Shores, or at least that is the first town south of here. There is a go-cart track just down the rode...

Day 42 - 47 & 48 makes a complete set!

Check out my 186.9 mi Ride on Strava: click here

Local sites in the Crescent City

I went to the front desk early this morning to extend my stay in New Orleans by one day. After mulling it over in my sleep I decided that adding a day here would solve a couple of issues for me.

I could feel safe about leaving my gear in a motel room while I explored N.O.

It moves me back a day for my eventual arrival in Florida where I'm attempting to slip in behind Tropical Storm Colin, that should move across the state and back out to sea by Tuesday. I don't have any experience with Tropical Storms but I figure that if it's big enough to have a name it's big enough to deserve my attention.

It will give me a chance to rest after battling the rain yesterday (2.5") and the heat today (89 degrees). The next several days are supposed to be a lesser chance of rain (40-50%) with lower humidity (60-65%). I've jokingly told people for months that I wanted to beat the high heat across the south, then let the Hurricanes blow me up the Atlantic Coast. I may end up chasing one of those storms!

So after breakfast this morning I went to mass at St. James Major Church. The mass was interesting in that their pastor is from Scotland so he speaks very quickly with a New Orleans accent with a brogue. Picture Michael Caine on Speed with a mouth full of jambalaya. It was very difficult to follow what he was saying. The church was large and quite pretty but nearly empty, despite there being only one mass on Sunday. 

The "organist" supplied a pipe organ sound periodically, but most of the songs were accompanied by a piano with a bit of a honky tonk vibe to it. It definitely sounded appropriate in the Big Easy. Then, before the final hymn, a soloist came to the front and performed a beautiful traditional spiritual number, collecting a big round of applause from the attendees. I don't know if this was something that is done every week or if they are trying to compete with the Baptist Church next door.

After church I found my way to the Baton Rouge bridge, or the Lake Ponchartrain Causeway, the longest two bridges in the world over water. The original bridge, which I'm guessing was the southbound bridge measured just a shade over 23.8 miles long when it opened in 1956. They quickly realized that the two lane bridge left no room for broken down vehicles so they finally got financing approved to build the north bound bridge, making it .01 miles longer so it became the longest bridge, beating out it's neighbor by less than 60 feet.

I said above that I was guessing the south bound lanes were the older lanes (since confirmed by Google). The reason I said that was the moment I started the return trip across the bridge I noticed that each of the joints in the sections of the bridge had settled, forming a dip. Each of the segments of concrete is approximately 60 feet long so the entire 23.8 miles was a series of (if my math is somewhat accurate) over 2000 bumps where the suspension jars your teeth. It was like riding Arenacross!

From the south end of the bridge I headed directly downtown where I found out :

A) I was very hot and

B) I was very lost

Hot because I had elected, in an attempt to ward off the heat, to wear my rain coat instead of my leather jacket. While the material was definitely lighter weight I was quickly reminded why I use the coat with my backpacking gear. It is light weight but, because it does not breathe, it is very warm. In backpacking this has been an asset. Today it was a detriment.

Lost because I had not entered a specific location in my GPS, thinking instead I could drive to the approximate location of the French Quarter and find public parking. I followed signs toward the French Quarter but the only parking I found was specific to local businesses, mostly hotels. 

I finally pulled into a manned parking lot and told the guy I was lost. He was very helpful, finding a little nook (or was it a cranny?) between two cars. By the time I got the raincoat off I was soaked with perspiration. My day went downhill from that point. I ate at Mothers (serving the Worlds Best Ham for over 70 years - that must have been a hell of a big pig!) and they got my order wrong. 

All the history you can eat

Then I walked toward the French Quarter and had no idea why I was there. I imagine it is totally different after dark but I found no dark cafes with sounds of honky tonk music, or blues, or jazz. There were people everywhere and I had no idea what I wanted to do.

Lots of places and nowhere to go!

I had plotted the location of many points of interest I thought I might enjoy. They were all on my IPad back at the motel. Names like Bourbon Street and St. Charles came to mind but had no emotional or mental connection with a place or activity. I was still hot and quickly became miserable. I almost said screw it and headed back to my bike, but instead decided to take the St. Charles street car, which runs in a large loop to the west end of the city. 

A cool breeze blew through the open windows of the (very) noisy car which still runs a loop that it has serviced since before the civil war. I saw a number of antebellum houses and the front entrances of the Audobon Zoo, Tulane and Loyola University. 

Loyola and Tulane sit right next to each other

When I returned to the parking lot I found this mode of transportation. I (wisely?) decided not to exchange a ride with the young lady who had been eyeing my bike for the last couple hours.

They call it a hover board, I call it a trouble board

Speaking of parking lots, I saw this

Each slot accepts a car. When more room is needed a plate raises the car in the air and creates another parking spot! Also slows down the car thieves I imagine.

 

Then on the way out of downtown I went past the Super Dome. Even with it being Sunday I did not see any Saints marching in.

 

It wasn't a banner day but I have been to New Orleans now and I'm ready to move east. I guess that's all I can ask.

A little bit of this, a little bit of that

Check out my 103.7 mi Ride on Strava: click here

The Big Easy was anything but

On the map it looks like no big deal. The Big Easy, as Nawlans is known, is a measly 300 miles from Port Arthur. I once drove from Cleveland to Salt Lake City (remember that trip Jules?), stopping only for food and fuel. But now that I'm safely (?) tucked away in my motel for the evening, I feel like I just went 10 rounds with the late, great Mohammad Ali.

The day got an early start as I was up, packed and fed by 6:30 or so. I hoped to get ahead of the storm cell that was launching the 80% chance of a duplicate day in Texas. My timing appeared to be spot on as the first drops settled on me as I fastened my bag on the back of the bike. With the sun still rising I rolled through historic Port Arthur, across MLK Jr. Bridge and onto the Intracoastal Highway 82 that runs across the Gulf Coast Estuary. I was no sooner at speed when I came to the bridge over the Sabine River and, in the very early morning light, crossed into the 46th state that I have visited in my life time (47 and 48 rest just down the road apiece). Sorry about the lighting, I was just happy to not be wet when I took the pic.

The Southern Louisiana landscape unfolded as an unending series of canals, houses on stilts, birds of unnumbered species, bayous, estuaries and water filled ditches. Elevation-wise? The highest point I reached today was going over one of the bridges! Mile after mile the road ran perfectly centered between two water filled ditches, sometimes in plain sight, sometimes hidden behind tall grasses, but ever present.

I thought I saw a couple of armadillos on the road. The first was upside down, the second on its stomach, the third was only partially there. The second one really looked like an armadillo and I had been told they are common in Texas (although I have only seen them in Georgia). I had convinced myself of my 55 mph identification, failing to think of what else it might have been. Then I stopped in a small turn-out and spotted these remains:

This may look like an armadillo at highway speeds but at this speed it looks a lot like a turtle

I wonder if all of the ditches I had been riding near were fresh or salt water (rain or tidal)? Do they occasionally find alligators up on the road? Can you imagine hitting a gator at 55?

The wooden houses were of all sizes and vintages and became common place in the subconscious mind until something like this appeared and reminded one of what all the locals live with annually, Hurricane season!

The Johnson Bayou Jr. High. The white line is the bottom of the building, which stands on stilts

Eventually the grasses on the right gave way to the coast line.

The poles and rocks piled just off shore continued for miles

I soon found myself being waved directly onto the Cameron ferry for a short ride to the other side of a dredged channel that connects Calcasieu Lake to the Gulf. I was one of only two vehicles that was up that early.

After a number of very level miles the highway made an abrupt bend to the north on what is called Pecan Island, and went almost due north along the east end of White Lake. When it did, the flora and fauna changed just as abruptly. Had I not been paying attention I could easily have been convinced we were in another state altogether.

This did not last much longer and neither did those beautiful blue skies. The road headed, once again, east at Abbeville and I began to bear down on some very dark clouds forming in the distance. By the time I turned onto highway 90 just outside of New Iberia the weather had turned also. I decided, foolishly, not to stop and don my rain gear, continuing to close on my date with reality. 

At almost exactly 11 a.m. I was noticing that all the cars emerging from the blackness in front of me had headlights and wipers turned on. "Good time for lunch" I rationalized. As I dismounted the sky opened up and Spuddy Buddy reached for his SCUBA gear. 

By the time I was ready to go the sky had lightened only slightly. I decided a minimal approach would be warranted so I put the rain pants on before heading east again. By the time I had logged the first post-lunch mile I was reducing my speed to avoid hydroplaning. I quickly noticed that the strips that zipper in under each arm (which I had removed in west Texas for temperature venting) were an ideal place, in their absence, for rain to enter and that a cross wind blowing on wet clothing has a major cooling effect. 

I got off at the next exit, found a gas station with a large canopy for protection, and reinstalled the vent strips. I also decided to put my leather jacket on OVER my rain coat. I rode the final 75-80 miles today alternating between drenching rain and stifling heat and humidity.

Perhaps it was the extreme opposites that did me in but by the time I hit the city limits I was done. I couldn't find a motel fast enough and finally found a Motel 6 with this ominous piece of furniture across their parking lot.

Is it good that they have a gate and fence to seal off the parking or bad that they feel it necessary to have it? Not wanting to be locked in or out I decided to ask what time the gate closed. "We don't lock it" was the unexpected reply. So now do I feel better because they don't feel it is needed or do I worry about the gate being open in a neighborhood that required it in the first place? Where's my wife when there's something to legitimately worry about?

My plans are a bit nebulous for the near future. Tomorrow I intend to ride the longest bridge in the world across Lake Pontchartrain. Then I'll see about access from here to explore the French Quarter. I wonder if the debauchery is open on Sunday? I may lay low another extra day to avoid The Gulf Coast of Florida until after the tropical storm lands Tuesday. I have to calculate miles/days.

Day 40 - Dashing through the rain

Check out my 205.7 mi Ride on Strava: click here
The app says 205.7, but I was 88 miles down the road by the time I remembered to start Strava, so well call it 294!

Piece of My Heart

Here is how my day went, following my post earlier this morning. I sat in my room and watched waves of rain blowing in off the Gulf. I had determined that my drop dead time was high noon. That was check out time and also about as late in the day as I wanted to go before deciding I would or would not make a break for New Orleans.

At 11:43 I walked down to the front desk and asked to renew my room for one more day. I didn't want to leave Port Arthur without seeing the Janis Joplin exhibit at the Gulf Coast Museum in downtown Port Arthur, and since finding out there was also a Babe Zaharias Museum in Beaumont, that too was high on the list of things to accomplish while here. So I was handed my receipt for the extra night and turned to go back to my room. I was going to put on my rain suit, which I had not yet used, and venture out in the rain to strike two museums from my to-do list so I could head east in the morning.

It stopped raining before I got out to my bike! The rest of the day was just fine weather-wise, with puddles being my biggest concern as I headed north for lunch and an afternoon at the museum.

I've a confession to make. I have always been an emotional person. It was perhaps my one (and only?) characteristic that Betty found endearing. I cry while watching chick flicks. I cry anytime I witness the conquering human spirit overcoming seemingly insurmountable odds. I cried when I reached the pass at Ross Peak on my final stage of the ICT because I knew then that I was going to accomplish my goal.

Since Betty passed away my tear ducts have been well lubricated with tears of joy, sadness, longing, pride, loss, you name an emotion and it has elicited tears. So it did not totally catch me off guard when I became emotional while looking at the accomplishments of Babe Didrikson Zaharias at her museum in Beaumont today. Strong women move me and I don't feel that calls for revocation of my man card. You see, I was married to a very strong woman for 39 wonderful years and I marveled at her determination on many occasions. So there, I said it, I'm a cry baby!

So answer me this, as they say:

How many of you, without utilizing Google or the like, know who Babe Didrikson Zaharias was? I thought so, but when I mentioned this to the lady at the museum she seemed stunned that not everyone knew who the Babe was. I did not know/remember that her given name was Mildred but I have long known her to be the greatest female athlete in history.

She was all of 115 pounds and 5' 7" when, at the age of 21 she entered the American Amateur Union (AAU) Championships in eight events, competing for the company where she was employed. She won five events and tied in a sixth event, winning the team championship even though she was the only one on her team! Later that year she entered three events at the 1932 Olympic Games in L.A., and won a Gold Medal in all three events, the Javelin, 80 meter hurdles and high jump, tying in the last event with a World record, and setting World Records in the other two. 

Not content with her well rounded resume she also competed successfully in basketball, baseball,  boxing, swimming, diving, volleyball, handball, pocket billiards (pool), bowling, tennis, and was perhaps best known for her prowess with a golf club.

She didn't start playing golf until she was 24, but picked it up rather well. She turned pro and became the first female to enter a PGA tour event. She went on to win 82 golf tournaments (Amateur and Professional), including being the first American to win the (then) 54 year old British Women's Open, being the fastest female to win 10, then 20, then 30 LPGA tournaments, including several after having undergone surgery for colon cancer, one while wearing a colostomy bag! She was voted the greatest female athlete of the first half of the 20th century and is generally considered to be the greatest female athlete of all time. (Okay, I had to look a lot of that up to get the facts straight but you have to admit, that's incredible).

The museum that is dedicated in her honor is tiny, but it is in a park named for her and is the permanent site of the Babe Zaharias Female Athlete of the Year trophy.

She apparently also was a pilot with the Thunder Birds! Wow.

From there I came back to Port Arthur and found the Gulf Coast Museum, in one of the oldest neighborhoods in P.A.

Building directly across from Gulf Coast Museum

The building, once you find the entrance, is laid out in rooms or wings dedicated to different groups, music, sports, business, etc. I was still paying for my ticket when the guard, who was still seated in his chair, said "you're probably here to see the Janis Joplin exhibit". His chair must be the Psychic Wing!

I still remember when I first heard that voice. I was in Philly and stationed aboard the USS Saratoga in January of 1969 when someone loaned me a copy of a new album (you know, like a CD for old folks) titled Cheap Thrills, recorded by a group out of San Fransisco named Big Brother and the Holding Company, featuring a young lady with a voice that dripped with emotion as she belted out one cut after another. Her biggest hits from that album were Piece of My Heart and Ball and Chain , but the one that grabbed me (and has never let go) was her rendition of Summertime, from the musical Porgy and Bess. I've been a big fan of her music since (not her life style, but her music), probably one of the few places where Betty and I could never see eye to eye. I couldn't play her music when we were together, so I had to wait until she was away for awhile.

In addition to a replica of her famous Porsche 

there were a number of interesting displays including a hand written note from Janis to her mother, inviting her to join Janis for dinner on Mothers Day at the restaurant I ate at last night! If you're a Janis Joplin fan, it's a must see display, even if it's somewhat of a stretch. They had to scrape deep to come up with items (Janis was only 29 when her life style caught up with her) such as a picture of the empty lot where her childhood home used to be. There was a picture of this typical conservative East Texas family (parents, brother and sister) posing for a candid shot with their famous hippy daughter, sans Southern Comfort bottle.

I must admit hat I spent a lot more time looking at the other displays of notable persons who hailed from the "Golden Triangle" (Port Arthur, Beaumont and Orange, I'm told). 

Other singers included the Big Bopper, Tex Ritter and ZZ Top. This print was by Rauschenberg

As I walked around I found these jewels also:

A display featuring Caroll Reswebber, the Cedarburg Flyer, from Wisconsin (he moved there to be closer to the Harley factory mechanic) who was a former four time AMA Grand National Champ and his number "1" plate. 

Note that this is a road racing bike!

Although he had been severely injured in '62 so I never saw him race, I recalled the name in regards to his annual battles with Joe Leonard, who as a former AMA #1, was retired from motorcycles but still racing at Indy in the 50s and 60s.

Also saw a street sign on the way to the museum, marking Jimmy Johnson Parkway. I knew NASCAR was big in the South but I thought Jimmy Johnson was a Southern California driver. Then at the museum I saw this-

Oops, different Jimmy Johnson!

I also saw this in a display of art works by Robert Rauschenberg

Is it my imagination or is this guy riding a Bultaco?

So I'm fueled and ready to head East tomorrow, (light) rain or shine. Should be a full day of riding, with or without flooded roads.