The Great Day That Dawns

Riding Day 31 – 90.4 miles

Yesterday was a very relaxing day in New Orleans. The Bob and I went to the WWII Museum in downtown while Odie stayed at the hotel relaxing and catching up with his family. The museum is one of the best I’ve ever visited, and I would highly recommend it to anyone visiting The Big Easy, but understand that you could easily spend several days exploring it’s nooks and crannies because there is so much to see. The Bob and I only had 4 hours, and we only saw about a quarter of what it has to offer. After we left the museum, we headed over to the Jackson Square area and went to Café Du Monde for beignets and café au laits. We left completely satisfied and covered in powdered sugar, and then walked a few blocks to NOLA Po Boys for the main course. (Dessert first might be my new thing when I get home!). I had a grilled catfish po boy, and The Bob had a roast beef po boy and red beans and rice, all of which were delicious.

On the way back to the OREM, I oh-so-briefly met a young man named Jamal. He was sitting in a wheelchair holding up a sign that simply said “homeless.” He didn’t have any legs and sat motionless, looking straight ahead, not making eye contact. Initially I walked by him, just like everybody else. But then I stopped and told The Bob I’d be right back. I returned to this young man who looked so forlorn in a sea of humanity that was engulfing, but certainly not embracing him and put a few dollars in the box he had on the ground in front of the chair. Then I stooped down and asked what his name was. He looked at me, his eyes bloodshot and as sad as any eyes I’ve ever looked into and said “Jamal.” I stuck out my hand and said, “I’m Scott,” and then he reached out and took my hand in his. We just stood there for a few seconds, each of us caught in the other’s gaze, a few moments of purity passing between two humans who will probably never see each other again. I finally broke the silence and told him, “I see you, you’re not invisible,” and I wished I could have sat there for a long while and listen to his story, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned and walked away, just like everybody else, except that now I can’t stop thinking about this young man with no legs in a wheelchair all alone in a city full of strangers.

I also met another beautiful soul earlier in the morning before we left the hotel. Mrs. Laverne Craig, living at the hotel while her house was being repaired. She was probably 80 or older, though neither of us brought up the topic of age. What we did do was stand in the first-floor hallway outside of her room talking for 45 minutes or so. I learned she had been a nurse, that she had two children and two grandchildren. Her husband had died 16 years earlier and she missed him terribly because they had been inseparable. I found out that she had been home alone in the house she and her husband had bought brand new 58 years ago, when a tornado struck and destroyed the shed in her backyard and tore off the roof of her home while she lay terrified in the hallway, the place her husband had always said would be the safest place in the house if a tornado hit. “He was right,” she told me, “Saved my life!” She said that tornados actually do sound like a train, one that comes right through your front door. This morning before we hit the road, I knocked on her hotel room door, and when she answered I thanked her for sharing her story. I wished her luck, said goodbye, and then we hugged each other like family.

Okay, so on to the day’s ride, the reason we’re supposedly out here in the first place. We got going early on a nice, moderately warm day full of sunshine, promise, and a partially healed gluteus maximus. The wind, though light, was finally at our back, and we pedaled easily, soaking up the surroundings and the miles. We took our first break around the 12-mile mark, and as we finished the break and got back on Hank, I noticed that the front tire was flat. After more than 2,100 miles this was only our third flat, which is remarkable, and I had a new tube installed in about 10 minutes. I chalk up such good fortune to the tires I chose for the journey, a Marathon Plus on the front, and a Specialized Armadillo on the back. We’ve talked to other riders who have had 10 flats in one day, but even though we’re riding on the same roads and in the same conditions, this is only our third.

We crossed several bridges today that rose to a smooth crescendo before descending equally as smoothly over waterways snaking their way to more open waters and eventually the Gulf of Mexico. The water, though silty brown from recent rains, still had a shimmering quality to it. The homes on either side of the road were all built on 15’ or higher pillars, so they’ll survive hurricane-driven flood waters, and some of these homes were basically mansions that looked a bit awkward and out of place, especially next to the older homes that were far more modest and seemed to better fit the landscape. In the distance, boats sped in diagonal lines in all directions, as if going in a straight line was taboo, or a sign of conformity and something to be avoided at all costs.

We came to a point near Pearlington, MS where a quarter mile long bridge is permanently closed. For any unsupported rider reaching this point, the only alternative is a 117-mile detour. Luckily, we have The Bob and the OREM, who picked us up, drove for 45 minutes and then dropped us off on the other side of the bridge to continue riding. We’re lucky to have this option, and I feel for the other members of our Tribe who will have to either take the detour or hope for some divine intervention to rain down upon their weary bods.

Tonight we’re camped in Shepard State Park, located in Gautier, (pronounced “Go-Shea”) MS. Just a few minutes ago, an armadillo came up and raided our food bin, which was about 15’ from where I’m sitting. Brazen little guy, but he or she is just trying to do the same thing we’re all trying to do…survive. I hope we survive our journey, I hope our fellow Tribe members survive their journeys, I hope Mrs. Laverne Craig survives to see her beloved home repaired and filled once again with family, friends, and love, and I hope somehow, some way, Jamal survives to see better days filled with hope. I wish the same for all of you as well, and that we may all survive to see the great day that dawns, and the light that fills the world…good night.