Day 978 - Charleston, South Carolina

In the Twelve Tribes community Shabbat is celebrated from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday. Friday evening is a special occasion for them. The gathering is similar to normal, but guests are invited and there is more singing and dancing. All that is followed with a seated 3 course dinner and on this occasion there were about 65 of us including other foreigners from South Africa and Canada, though I was still the only guest staying here. It is their way of sharing their culture with the outside community and gives people a chance to ask questions and see how it all works, it made for an enjoyable and social evening.

Saturday was forecast for a 60% chance of showers during the day and 100% chance of heavy rain overnight. By the time the morning Gathering and breakfast was over the rain had already set in, so with an invite to stay as long as I wanted there was a 0% chance of me leaving. It rained pretty much all day but with it being a Saturday there were always people around to talk to. I enjoyed long talks with Doresh, who I was sharing a room with, Anav and others whose names I have already forgotten. During a discussion with Anav he told me that he believed God wanted mankind to live as they were living, i.e. living and working for each other rather than for yourself, but I pointed out that I honestly think I am living right now as God wants me to live “We can’t both be right” I told him. We were interrupted and Anav had to leave, but later he answered my question, it was pretty obvious and straight forward, we probably were both right. I won’t tell you his answer, you can have a little think about it. It continued to rain all day and by evening the weather forecasters were 100% right, it was raining heavily and was very glad that I had stayed another day. Saturday evening brought another longer Gathering, then the children had story time, a long story, a sort of padded out bible story, they all listened intently. At the end of it each one had to stand up and say something, though to be honest I was sat a little too far away and couldn’t hear what any of them were saying. There was an evening celebration to which guests are not invited so Doresh and I went down to the ship.

After breakfast on Sunday I said goodbye to those who were still around, nobody stays in one place for very long around here! The longer I stayed with the community the more I liked it, it seemed a nice healthy lifestyle to me, very open and very welcoming. I said when I arrived here that it was a sort of a cult, but that is being unfair to them, they are just living an alternative lifestyle that they believe is the right way to live and the way that God wants them to live. It had rained in the morning but had stopped by the time that I left, but it was so much warmer, about 18c. I headed out of Savannah and had to cross the river. Typically when I arrived at the bridge there was a sign saying “No pedestrians or cyclists”. I am getting a bit cheesed off with bans on bridges so I chose to ignore it, I carried on. As I headed up, coming the other way was a runner and as we passed each other a police car passed us without stopping, clearly they are a bit cheesed of with the ban as well. I could see no reason to stop us crossing, there was a wide shoulder that wasn’t on the road leading to it, so in actual fact it was safer on the bridge. The day got better as it went on with only one longish shower all day, I even had a good tailwind, progress was swift. The roads were through remote areas though surprisingly busy the whole time. Only when it came to finding a campsite did I fully realise just how heavy the rain had been last night. Each time I left the road the tracks were soggy and off the tracks were either waterlogged or so squishy that my feet were getting wet. I pulled off a number of times before at last hitting the jackpot and finding a gravely track to take me away from the road. I went under the gate and cycled about 150m before grinding to a halt. There wasn’t as much gravel as I had expected and the clay like soil had stuck to the tyres and clogged up everything. I got off and pushed but within a few metres the wheels stopped turning altogether. I lay the bike down and tried to move the wheels but using both hands on one wheel but I could not budge it in either direction. I cleared off the worst of the gloopy mess by hand and made another bad decision to continue down the track as time was running short, find a spot to camp and clean the bike properly in the morning. Within metres it was locked solid again, I changed my mind and decided to head out, the gate seemed so close but took me over half an hour to reach it. The bike got chocked in mud in seconds despite the fact that it was only going down into the mud for about a quarter of an inch. I started to carry it which just meant that my shoes picked up all the tacky stuff, it was a nightmare and I wasn’t best pleased. By the time I got back to the gate it was dark, so having cleared enough mud and released both brakes so that the wheel could just about turn I went back a kilometre to a spot I had seen earlier and decided wasn’t suitable. How I wish I had taken that spot in the first place.

I spent an hour the following morning trying to clear the mud off the bike, but at least the wheels would turn smoothly with the brakes connected. It was a main road bash into Charleston, then my written notes to my couch surfing place failed me when I arrived at a freeway and couldn’t get across. A bottled of water was hurled at me and hit the back of the bike, I guess I looked thirsty! I spent the evening with my host Jessica and her two housemates Matt and Mike. When I arrived they made me a cup of tea with tea from a nearby Charleston plantation and the only commercially grown tea in the USA. The teabags were large, this is America, the cup had to be equally large. In fact it was so large that as we talked, each time I drank from the cup the all disappeared from view. They were all very sociable and had some great stories to tell about people that had stayed in the house. Charleston is known as the medical city due to its medical university and its hospital and funnily enough both Jessica and Matt had medical jobs. Mike and Matt were both soccer fans and took great pride in showing me an article titled “Why England will not win the World Cup”. I also found out that England and the USA are in the same group this summer.

It was about 8 miles and 2 buses into Charleston, but what a lovely city, I prefer it to Savannah, there is more variety in the architecture and little lanes just cry out to be explored. As the sun went down on a lovely warm day the streets were full of joggers in shorts out running, I felt a little embarrassed and idle to only be walking. It must have been all those medical students out doing what it they know is good for them. Charleston also provided me with my first chance to ring bells in the USA. The Grace Church had a detached bell tower with 10 bells, only built about 10 years ago and the most clinically clean ringing chamber I have ever seen. After ringing Wood kindly gave me a lift home saying “If you come and ring at the Cathedral tomorrow I will give you a lift home then as well”. I walked to the front door, politely knocked, then expecting it to be open anyway, opened the door and walked in. Sat on the sofa opposite was a man I hadn’t met before, but surprisingly the room was smaller and all the furniture was different. I quickly realised my mistake and with an “Oops! Sorry, wrong house” I made a hasty retreat. I did take up Wood’s offer and went ringing the following evening at the Cathedral, the only ringing chamber I have even been in with a dog sat in the corner, and true to his word Wood kindly gave me a lift home again, so much nicer an more relaxed than a bus and an hours walk in the dark, the lifts were really appreciated. Charleston has a lovely downtown area, I am really taken with it. It is built on small peninsula so you are never far from water, but at every junction the streets are so inviting and begging to be explored. Some of you might know that I like photographing doors and windows, well I thought I was in heaven!

In answer to your question Aoiffe, yes, that is the same buff as I left home with, in fact all my clothes are the same as I left home with. I have probably thrown some out but the only addiction has been the second hand socks. Now do you understand why I keep saying I look like a tramp? I haven’t been joking.

Day 972 - Savannah, Georgia

The little road heading out of Lake City was hard to find, I had to ask but was soon on my way and heading down a deserted road to Gum Swamp Wilderness Area. I had been going a while when ahead of me on the road I could see an animal. It didn’t know I was coming, I couldn’t see what it was. It turned out to be a dog, miles from anywhere, and looking painfully thin with bones sticking out. It had a collar on but it wouldn’t come near me, it just kept circling around the bike. I tempted it closer with biscuits and managed to photograph the telephone number on the collar. Typically, being as I wasn’t in a large city I had no signal on my phone. I waited and flagged down the next vehicle, a couple of local hunters. I explained the situation and asked if they had a phone which I could use to call the owner “Arh, there aint no praablem, that be a hurntin darg. His owner has bin art hurntin an will pick im up later”. Bullshit! That may normally be the case, but anybody with half a brain could see that this dog had not seen its owner or a bowl of food in a very long time. Clearly this pair of gun toting bearded red necks had less than half a brain between them. They had been out for a day in the woods killing things and clearly weren’t going to spoil their Sunday by actually having to SAVE something. But since I have been in the United States I have made it my policy not to argue with anybody that might point a gun at me, (pronounced gurn in these parts), “Stop pointing that gun at me, I have a Swiss Army knife at the bottom of that bag you know. I can deploy a weapon of minimal destruction in less than 45 seconds! I could give you a nasty flesh wound.” I didn’t have much choice, night was fast approaching, I had to leave the dog there. Finding a place to camp was easy enough, there were various muddy tracks heading into the trees and the swamp. As I camped amongst the tall pines and it was one of those rare nights were you could stand still and enjoy total silence, there was absolutely nothing to be heard. Bliss.

After about 15km of riding I arrived at Taylor, a tiny village with a massive church. There was a little gas station and store, I called in, poured myself a coffee, sat in a chair and started talking to the owner. His name was Blue, a real character with his strong southern accent, a cowboy hat and padded lumber shirt and was busy chewing on a toothpick. The store was like so many around here, run down and very scruffy, but the shelves behind the counter were full of religious book and a well thumbed and bookmarked bible lay on the counter. I liked Blue, we talked about all sorts and he asked me how many kids I have. I returned the question, he stood there trying to work it out “9 altogether between us, though some of them are grandchildren. Their Mommy and Daddy went a bit crazy and now they have gone on a long vacation”. That sounds a bit like me, though I think they managed to get theirs all expenses paid! Anything I said that could in any way be thought of as religious was followed by an “Amen” from Blue. I asked if I could take a photo of him, he wouldn’t have it “Go on, just a little one….please”. I turned on the charm and gave him one last chance but he blew it! As I was getting ready to leave he said “Where did you get that rag you putting on your head?”. Cheek of it! That was my wonderful buff he was calling a rag! I followed his instructions for a short cut on roads that were not marked on my map, then crossed a bridge and entered Georgia, the peach state. Another 12 miles brought me to St George where I called in at K & C’s Oak Tree Café for lunch. They asked for the address of my blog and sat there reading it whilst I was there, then gave me a pork chop sandwich to take with me “You won’t just think that is the best pork chop sandwich you have ever tasted, you will KNOW it is”. As I departed they also gave me a bagful of blueberry bagels, they had just read in my blog that I like them, another lovely example of southern hospitality.

I carried on up the 23 heading north, the cycling was nothing exciting, mile after mile of pine plantations with the occasional dull town thrown in. The roads were quiet, though once through Jesup the increase in traffic was alarming. There was only a very narrow shoulder that had rumble strips in it, pretty awful for cycling, so I cycled as close to the white line as possible. I have to say the whole time the drivers were really good, not a single vehicle came too close and no horn blowing, even the lorries moved well out, I was impressed. Armadillos are still top of the list for being squashed around here, which reminds me of a southern joke. Why did the chicken cross the road? To show the armadillo it could be done. Alongside every road there is always at least some rubbish at the roadside, but here in Georgia there seem to be hundreds of coat hangers. I should collect a few, I could hang my lovely clothes from a tree at night. I spotted a tiny track leading into the woods, no driver would ever spot it so it would be good for camping. I tried to get as far away from the road as possible, but thought I saw some buildings through the trees so didn’t go too far. Once I was in the tent I soon realised that just a bit further down was a railway line, very noisy trains thundered past on one side and the main road was on the other side and aircraft flew overhead. If all that man made noise wasn’t enough some large sounding unidentified creature stood near the tent and started snorting, a far cry from that peaceful night in Big Gum Swamp.

I rode into Savannah of horrible roads. There were plenty of road works that made the road narrow and made it all seem much longer than it actually was. As I came into the outskirts I passed through mainly black neighbourhoods, and I felt an unease about them. As I cycle I often make eye contact with people of the streets, the give a wave or more often just a nod, from which I normally get a response, but in these parts there is rarely any eye contact, and when there is and I acknowledge the person there is nothing in response. I arrived early afternoon, the thought of a bed for the night seemed really strange, the thought of a shower even stranger. I took a shower, the first time I have even washed in 13 days, though I think I am going a bit soft as I didn’t really need one. My choice of places to stay in Savannah is a little different to normal. I am staying with a religious community, I am not sure if you could call it a cult really. They are called the Twelve Tribes and have communities all over the US and others dotted around the world including one in Devon, England. They have 3 lovely houses here all next to each other and about 50 live in the community with about 20 of them being children. If 50 names to learn weren’t enough, they all have Hebrew names, I have absolutely no chance what so ever! The idea is that they live their lives like the disciples. They effectively live and work for each other, they own nothing of their own other than a few clothes and a toothbrush, everything else is communal. They all have jobs working for the community in various industries, here it is mainly construction and farming, they are currently building a café across the road as well as working on outside projects. They do not receive any salary for their work, but all their needs are paid for by the community. The children are all educated within the community too. At 7 each morning and evening they have a gathering that consists of singing, dancing and prayers. They all eat together too, the women cooking vast quantities of food. The whole set up is based on love and sharing, working in the interests of the community and being selfless. Everybody seems to be very happy, it clearly works for them, but to enter the community they have to give up everything they own, it is a huge commitment. The men generally have longish beards, useful that, is saved me having to shave and tidy myself up, I felt at home. They have slightly more hair than me and keep it tied at the back in a sort of very small pony tail. The women have long hair down their backs and keep it covered in scarves during the gatherings. They also own a tall ships boat down on the riverfront where they give free tours around the boat to the many tourists in town. Being as I was staying with them I got priority treatment when I went to see them today. First I was given lunch, then taken on a full tour including everything that was closed to the public. They are wonderful people, very friendly and very open. I had rather expected to be given the hard sell on their community, especially as I am the only guest staying with them. But not at all, they are just pleased to host people and show outsiders the way they are leading their lives.

I took a trip around the city. It is a lovely city, first settled by the Brits and laid out on a grid system but cram packed with wonderful architecture and beautiful square full of trees. A guy called Oglethorpe was sent over to establish the city and keep the Spanish from moving north up the coast. He did a pretty good job but needed reinforcements to hold the Spanish back, but they were never sent out. Jewish people moved in and were welcomed by Oglethorpe and with their support he was able to achieve what he was sent out to do. When he returned home to Britain he didn’t get a great welcoming, in fact he was stripped of his titles and he was given no credit for any of his achievements. I don’t know what he did, but he obviously upset somebody along the way. The centre is classed as the historical district, there are a few shops and cafes and that is about it, the main high street stores are well away from the downtown area. Despite it being such a nice place I seemed to lack a little enthusiasm. May be my thoughts are beginning to focus more on home than they are on the sights that I am looking at.

I know I have mentioned this a few times before, but it is worth another mention. Thank you all for your comments on this blog and your emails, they are all really appreciated. I am not going to mention any specific names otherwise others are going to think “Why didn’t he mention me?”, but all those comments are very welcome. It’s always nice to get them from people I have stayed with or met along the way, but sometimes I read them and think “Is that me they are talking about”. People are so generous, and give me so much encouragement and all I have to do is ride my bike. But it is nice to know that people are still reading this stuff, it makes it all the more worthwhile spending the time writing it. Thank you.

Day 967 - Lake City, Florida

It was another bitterly cold morning, my cycle computer told me it was -5 c but my feet and hands were insisting it was colder and they made me stop for a coffee at the first opportunity. It turned out to be a good move, I warmed up nicely and stayed that way for the rest of the day. I turned onto smaller roads that meandered through pine forests, the sun was shining, it was still nice and crisp and all was well in my little world. With few food options available and now my stomach insisting that I stopped, I called into a little café/store in a tiny village and had lunch. It was a grimy little run down place with a sign that said “No tipping please, it is our pleasure to serve you”, but judging by the grumpy old women serving they hadn’t put the sign there and it would appear that they weren’t it full agreement with it either. Everybody who came in and spoke to me had the same opening line “It’s a cold day to be out cycling”. An old lady added “It is years since it has been this cold here. I am 83 and have a good memory and I can’t remember when it was last this cold”. This has been a bit of a theme all the way across the USA, I want somebody to come up to me and say “Lovely weather, a tad too warm for this time of year, but that’s global warming for you”. I carried on along more lonely roads, it was delightful cycling. I passed through Florala and realised I hadn’t filled up on water for the night so stopped at a mechanic’s workshop and asked for water “You can use that tap over there”. It was surrounded by ice which probably explained why nothing can out of the thing. His mate arrived and said “Use this one inside. Where are you heading for?”, “New York” I told him “What on that thing” he exclaimed “You are a crazy arse. I bet you stay in some nice motels”, “No, I normally camp”, “Well you will need to find a motel tonight, it is going to drop to 18 degrees (-8 c)” he told me whilst laughing, “It’s ok, I will camp, that’s what I need the water for”, there was a long pause and a look of astonishment, then he added “You really are one crazy arsed son of a bitch, you had better find a house to stay in tonight. Where are you heading”, “I am heading out on route 4” then the other guy replied “If you head out on route 4 you go right past my house”. I had expected an offer, I was glad it never came, I was quite happy to camp, there are so many places to camp in the pine forests it would be easy. I passed a sign saying “….Florida’s highest point”, I was only 300ft above sea level and hadn’t even reached Florida.

It was another cold start but another beautiful sunny morning, a glorious winter’s day. I carried on through the forest and finally entered into Florida, the sunshine state. As I approached Darlington I saw a tree with amazing icicles hanging from it in somebody’s garden so I stopped to take a photo. The dog barked. A man came out. We talked. It turned out that he had put a hose up the tree and sent a spray of water out “It has been up there for years, but this is the first time I have had a chance to use it”…great! Then out of the blue he asked “You have been travelling through many countries and the US, what do you think of the religious people here and they way they all preach to you about Jesus and God and how their religion is the only way?”, it was the start of an interesting conversation. His friends, a couple, stopped in their car and we all talked. When I was leaving he said “Call in at the restaurant in the village, they do a good breakfast and it is run by Steve’s niece“. I had to search it out, there were no signs to it and it was tucked down a side street, who would ever know it was there. Nobody by the look of it. It was called “The Two Cousins Café” and the two cousins were in there as well as me. We chatted away, I told them I had met Steve. They told me it was all local custom in the cafe, but they were great to me and even let me use there wireless internet and insisted on constantly topping up my coffee. People started to arrive, each one was told what I was doing and where I was heading and some of them came over to chat. By them time I left the place was almost full and I felt I had been made welcome by the whole village and not one had called me a “Crazy arsed” anything! Wonderful moments that make travelling so good and memorable. I made good progress on lovely little roads, but late in the day arrived back at a main road. The shoulder had a bicycle symbol, the first I have seen I weeks. It looked like being another cold night.

I was heading south, completely the wrong direction considering I am supposed to be heading for New York, but my map showed a nice road running along the Gulf of Mexico, it was too tempting, I was heading for it. I passed through Panama City, then though Tyndall Air Force Base, then what looked like nice coastal riding turned out to be mile after mile of pine forest. For the first time in weeks I saw cycle tourists, they were heading the other way and had absolutely no intention of even slowing down, let alone stopping. I eventually saw the coast at Mexico Beach. With a name like that I would have been really surprised if I had not seen the sea. I stopped for a break, it was balmy weather, 17 degrees c, I was down to shorts for a change. I saw another cyclist, this one decided to stop and we have a brief chat. I liked talking to him, I always like talking to cyclists who are carrying more crap than I am. I crossed into the Eastern time zone and the last time change of this trip. I gives me an extra hour in the evening so a longer day is much more relaxed. I stayed tight to the coast which meant there were houses all the way along, so I ended up camping in a plot of land that was for sale, a sort of test drive if you like. I wasn’t impressed, I didn’t buy it.

More coast followed in the morning, after a warm and wet night. I stopped at a supermarket in Apalachicola, the girl at the checked asked “Where are you heading for?”, “New York”, “What do you want to go there for?”, “Oh, I have always wanted to go there. There is so much to see, I think it will be really interesting.”, “I don’t want to go there! Where are you from?”, “England”, “I don’t want to go there either” so told me. “Where do you want to go then?”, “I am 18 and have always lived here, I don’t want to go anywhere. I am not a city person, besides, there is a lot to see here”. I moved a few doors down to a gas station that had a Subway attached to it, there I met Erin who does analysis work for Subway and sat working at the next table to me, at least she was working until I interrupted her. We talked about various things and I was astounded to hear that as she was in her first year with the company she only got one week annual vacation which is nothing short of slave labour. I talked to her about travel too, she hadn’t really travelled outside of the USA, but I guess with one week holiday a year I wouldn’t either. We talked about Obama’s health reforms which even if passed wont some into effect for 4 years, though they will start paying for it straight away. That will go down well, they already pay far too much each month for private health insurance, them on top of that the Americans will have to pay for a National Health Service that they can’t even use for another 4 years! I tried to learn a little more about football, but I think that no matter how many questions I ask I am never going to understand a game called football that is played using the hands! There are lots of different leagues too and even if I look at the tables I can’t even work out from the stats why the team at the top is there. A day is always made better after a good conversation with somebody and Erin made today a good day. I left her to carry on with her work and I carried on along the coast, the road ran right along the water front, just a narrow strip of beach and then the water. There were various jetties heading into the very calm water (photo). It is very sheltered here with a group of islands running parallel to the coast a few miles out. I crossed another long bridge that was very exposed, the wind hit me head on. I stopped for more coffee at a gas station and checked the weather forecast. It looks as though it will be sunny though cold, but still a whole bunch of degrees warmer than you lot are getting back in the UK.

I left the coast and the scenery inland has become a bit mundane, the last couple of days have hardly been exciting. I had set off in the cold so called in at Ouzt’s Bar in Newport to warm up, they were opening as I arrived. They were very friendly, coffee soon arrived and before long I was being given a history lesson by Dorothy, the owner. Newport has a population of about 5, but it used to be the 5th largest town in Florida, due mainly to the river which was used for logging. A hurricane destroyed the place, this one in 1853, and it never really recovered. I also learned that Florida is being hit hardest by the recession, probably as it relies heavily on tourism. Jodie told me to call in to JR’s gas station down the road and meet Barbara. So having left and been given the coffee for free, that is exactly what I did. I asked the woman there if she was Barbara, but I couldn’t make her understand me, by the 5th attempt I was speaking very slowly and as clearly as possible but I just got a “Bar what?” in reply. I knew she wasn’t Barbara and the whole attempt to make her understand the question was a complete waste of time, but at last it got through “Oh no, I am Joanna, Barbara works weekdays“. Sometimes the camping situation doesn’t really work out and last night was such an occasion. I saw a wonderful place in a remote forest but decided to press on for another half an hour only to arrive amongst farmland. It was well dark before I turned up a track and set up the tent close beside it and expecting visitors during the evening. Thankfully I did get a peaceful nights sleep, but I was never very happy there, I like to be well out of the way.


I have gone about as far east as I can go now, it is almost time to turn and head north for the final leg of my journey and the final destination of New York. I can’t say I am looking forward to heading north, it rather takes me on to a collision course with even worse weather, you know, rain, snow and that sort of rubbishy stuff. In the four months that I have been in the USA I have so far spent $27 on accommodation, $7 on a campsite outside of San Francisco and $20 on a shared motel room with Matt. I guess as the weather gets yuckier I will turn into more of a wimp and that will send my costs spiralling upwards, though it will still be less than paying for health insurance here.

Day 961 - Brewton, Alabama

I said my farewell to Bill and Erin, they had made me very welcome. They were heading off to see family, so my stay in New Orleans had been too short really, but I left well before I could get bored with the place, if fact I really like it. I took St Charles Street and made my way to the Downtown area. St Charles Street is the grandest street and home to those people who are dripping in dollars. Half way down the Mardi Gras route joins it. During Mardi Gras strings of beads are thrown into the crowd, it’s a sign of friendliness, but plenty don’t make it into the crowd and get stuck on the power lines or in the trees leaving some of them decorated like Christmas trees, there were beads everywhere. I cycled around the French Quarter, it felt so different to the previous day. Now the crowds had gone, so had the good weather, it was cold and overcast, the place had a completely different feel to it, at times I hardly recognised it as the same place. I headed out on route 90, a much quieter road than when it enters the city from the other side. I was soon leaving the houses behind, the traffic too, I had the road almost to myself. I rode along the narrow peninsula between Lake St Catherine and Lake Pontchartrain, once prime land for expensive properties, but this too has taken a hit in the hurricanes. New houses were being built, all of them raised way above the ground on high stilts, but the wrecked jetties clearly showed the forces that had passed though the area. Some people have spent a lot of money in building these houses, but surely it is only a matter of time before the area takes another hit, the hurricane season lasts about 6 months of the year. It seems a big risk to me, the insurance companies would probably agree. Before long I was crossing another bridge and entering into the state of Mississippi, where the open marshland and inland waterways gave way to pine forests.

At 6am I was woken by the sound of a vehicle right beside the tent. Somebody got out, I waited for them to speak, but after about a minute they drove off. The problem with heading east all the time is that the mornings get lighter earlier and earlier and the evenings darker. At 6am it is already light, but it is as good as dark at 5pm. I rode through more pine forests, then some more swamps and finally reached the beach. The sand is so white and fine, across the other side of the road more houses are being built. Some plots have the tell tale concrete bases that again reveal that this area was also hit badly by Hurricane Katrina. The Hurricane forced water towards the land and it was that excess water that caused the levees to be breached in New Orleans, but here there are no levees, the sea level just rose and caused floods up to a quarter of a mile inland, though here it receded quickly after the storm, but the exposed properties took a big hit from the winds too. Further along there was little evidence of damage, but plenty of evidence that those living here are not short of a dollar or two, every house was beautiful, it was all very picturesque. I passed through the larger towns of Gulfport and Biloxi. Casinos are going up like there is no tomorrow. It became state law that the casinos had to be built on water and had to float and were therefore mobile. The idea was that when there was a hurricane warning they could be moved onto the inland waterways, but when the need actually arose they couldn’t be moved as the bridges could not be opened as everybody was using them to evacuate the cities. Good planning eh? So the rule no longer applies and they aren’t hanging about, I guess they are building them quickly before the law changes again. I stopped at a pharmacy to try and get something for my sinus problem which I can’t seem to get rid of. They suggested some medication, then asked for ID. The only ID I have is my passport, I handed it over, then after 5 minutes of form filling which I had to sign, I was allowed to buy the stuff. It’s worse than the UK. I was going to get some paracetamol as well, but I didn’t think it was worth the hassle. I had had enough of the main road, I took a smaller road inland, I hoped it would be quieter for the night.

The nights are cold again, though it has allowed my new sleeping bag to reveal its real qualities. Sometimes I am nice and snug during the night but have to get up for a pee, then I am surprised to find that the tent is either frozen or frosted. I set off in the morning on nice country roads passing through swamps and over rivers, heading through the villages of Wade and Hurley before leaving Mississippi and entering Alabama. The road changed to the 56 and I continued towards Mobile, then as I approached a turning to the right and 18 wheeler truck pulled out right in front of me. I swerved to the right to go down the turning he was coming out of, but his backend of the trailer was rapidly eating my valuable road space and the inevitable happened, I hit it side on and went crashing to the ground. Thankfully the truck stopped otherwise the rear end would have gone over the bike. The driver jumped out and yelled “Haven’t you got brakes on that thing?” to which I should have retorted with “Haven’t you got eyes in that thing” but instead opted for the more obvious “What the fuck are you doing, why did you pull out right in front of me, where was I supposed to go?”, “I didn’t see you” he replied “Well why don’t you try looking?” I said angrily “I did look, but I was looking for cars, I wasn’t looking for bikes”. Well that is very reassuring. The guy in the vehicle behind came over and said “He was totally in the wrong, you should call the state troopers. These truck drivers are always doing that and getting away with it”. I didn’t see the need but he added “Well by law he has to fill in an entry in his drivers log”. “I haven’t got it with me” the truck driver added, so to keep within in the law that I know nothing about the state troopers were called. About 10 minutes later an ambulance and two fire vehicles arrived, the ambulance woman came over and asked if I was ok, “I am fine, I just have bumps and bruises on my knee and elbow”, “Well let’s go over there and we will check you out”, so I went into the ambulance and sat in a nice comfy chair and she took my blood pressure “It’s a bit higher than normal, but so would mine be if I had just been hit by an 18 wheeler. Here, sign this”, “What is it?” I asked “Oh it’s just a form for you to tell us that you are ok”. I thought the idea was that they would tell me that, so in view of the fact that it didn’t seem a very thorough check I hinted they might check the bits that hurt by rolling up my sleeve and saying “Can you spare an antiseptic wipe for this?” to which she replied “Ooh, I wouldn’t do that, you will start it bleeding again. Here sign this”. I signed it. Based on the time factor alone it would appear to be a bigger health hazard to buy a packet of Sudafed than it is to collide with a thumping great truck! Wow, what can they put in that stuff? I am beginning to understand why people are so reluctant to have a National Health Service here, they don’t want to lose that quality care. I left the ambulance to be questioned by the fire guys “Are you from England?”, “Yes, I am”, “Where from?”, “Oxford”, “How far is that from Norwich?”, “About 150 miles, why?”, “Oh I used to live there for about 7 years, my parents were in the forces and hated it there, but I loved it”, “I used to live there too and I still support the football team.” I replied “Any idea how they got on against Wycombe Wanderers yesterday”, “Sorry, I don’t know”. I guess he can’t have loved it there that much then. They all departed together, safety in numbers. I think they were all a bit disappointed. Having answered a call saying a cyclist had been hit by an 18 wheeler they were at least expecting to have to scrape a few bits off the road. About 15 minutes later the police eventually arrived and wrote a report based on a very brief chat with both of us. Half an hour later he gave us the paper work and said we could go, but not before he had told me how to fill it in “Where is says vehicle, here, you put bicycle“ then after a little pause he said it pronounced and very slowly “B-i-c-y-c-l-e“. It seems that in a world where the car rules, where you have drive through restaurants, drive through banks and valet parking so that never have to use your legs, then if you have a bike you are assumed to have no job, no car, no life and to be as thick as two short planks. Oh heck, reading that back, that’s me! As the truck pulled away the officer returned to me and asked “Where on the truck did you hit? And where on the road were you when you came off the bike”. These were the first questions I had been asked but he did tell me that the driver had said he hadn’t been looking for bikes. I am sure in the UK if he had said that he would have been done for driving without due care and attention. I would love to have read the report, I guess it was something like “The big truck hit the cyclist. Thankfully the big truck and the driver are ok”. I think it is probably a good insight to what some people here think of cyclists. Two hours after the incident I carried onto into the large town of Mobile. Another example of how un cycle friendly it can be here would soon show itself. There were no provisions for either cycle or pedestrians to cross the river, I had to go to a bridge 3 miles north and the only way to reach it was along the freeway! But I got across without being stopped by the police again, then crossed another couple of bridges spanning about 7 miles to reach Spanish Fort. I called in at a gas station and was offered a free coffee without having to talk my way into it. It was getting dark, I had to turn it down, I really didn’t have time.

My knee had been hurting all night, it hurt when I lay down, it hurt even more when I walked, I wondered if I would be able to cycle. The whole of my right side ached too, but my sinuses were clearing so it wasn‘t all bad. Strangely I felt perfectly ok when I was cycling, it is when I get off the bike that I have problems, but I would much rather it was that way around. I am sure in a couple of days all will be fine. I rode through back roads to Bay Minette, then rode through pine trees, the swamp has been left behind, at least for a while. It was a cold day, it never really warmed up, I didn’t remove any layers of clothing all day, even my gloves remained on the whole time. Whenever I stopped people said how cold it is for cycling, but like with my knee, it is much better when cycling rather than stopping. I tucked myself in for the night amongst some trees to try and stay a little warmer and reduced the condensation. The wind was picking up, still, it is January.

As I cycled through New Orleans I heard some manic shouting, for some reason I thought it was aimed at me, though I never heard my name. I looked around but couldn’t see who or where it was coming from, beside I knew nobody here and for a change wasn’t doing anything stupid. I have just had a mail from Justin, the cyclist I stayed with in Prescott, Arizona, it was him. What a shame I never got to speak to him, I love little coincidences like that.

With just over two months left on this trip I am beginning to think of home more and more, especially on the cold mornings when it is well below zero when I start cycling and my hands and feet become painfully cold, then I just wish I was home. On days like that I look at the map and New York seems such a long way off, odd that because when I looked at the same map when I was in San Francisco it seemed so close. I still remember the basics of the quote from the Alchemist though which was words to the effect of “the closer you get to fulfilling your dream, the harder it will become”. How true.

Day 957 - New Orleans

I decided to be clever and take route 90 around New Iberia, oh dear, a big mistake. It wasn’t a whole bunch of fun, a narrow fast dual carriageway without a shoulder and so narrow across the bridges I had to breath in while I crossed them. Added to that the sides of the road were strewn with bits of sugar cane and needed to be avoided. I got off and onto the much smaller 182, but there was even more sugar cane with lorries full of the stuff passing me, some so full the wind force was blowing it out of the top, I was in danger of being hit by a 2 pound bag of sugar. Ok, so that is exaggerated a little, there was still a little work to be done on it before it found its way into a bag. The road ran alongside route 90 which was now a freeway, the land all around me was either flooded swamp or lived on, there was little else. I spotted a track heading alongside a wood, though it looked a used track so it seemed advisable to try and get some permission before I used it myself. I called at a house, they didn’t own the land but rather insisted that I camp on their ‘yard’ as they called it, but more like about 2 acres of fine grass and the best surface I have camped on since….ooooh….I can’t remember when. I had managed to knock on the right door again and received another truck load of southern hospitality. Wayne and Juanita live there and their daughter Mona and son-in-law Shahar where there for the holiday, all the way down from the San Francisco Bay area, though they had taken just 3 days compared with my 3 months. A pot of coffee was soon brewing, two loaves of pumpkin bread were cut, a shower was taken, chilli was cooked up and the conversation flowed, I was made very welcome indeed. Mona used the phrase “I am so glad that you called in at our house”. Now I normally try and camp without having to ask for permission, so when I do ask I really want to cause as little inconvenience as possible. Disturbing the family for the whole of the evening doesn’t really fit in with my genuine intentions, but when I here phrases such as that, I know for sure that I am indeed truly welcome, I have no more need to be concerned. I still find it odd though, people go out of their way to make sure I have everything I could possibly need, then they say “I am so glad that you called in at our house”, but it does enforce my view that most people in this world are good people.

I had a long run into New Orleans, so I was up early, but didn’t leave before I had been given a coffee and instructed on the best way to get to and across the Mississippi river as bikes are not allowed on any of the crossings. They also kindly tried to give me more food but I was still fully loaded, though did manage to squeeze in a couple of pieces of pumpkin bread, you have to try the local fare, and this was home cooked after all. I passed through Thibodaux and missed my turning on route 1. As I headed back I was stopped at some traffic lights and decided to ask directions, I really didn’t want to lose any more time. A pickup truck pulled up alongside being driven by a strapping young lad. I tapped on the window, he looked at me as if to say “What!”, “Can you open the window please” I shouted miming the action at the same time. The window was opened half an inch. I put my mouth to the gap and shouted my question above the noise and he gave me clear and accurate directions, then drove off with his dog sat on his lap, the same position it had been in the whole time. Clearly an old fart on a bike was a major threat to his wellbeing, though driving around with a dog on his lap is a perfectly safe thing to do! I had to get back on to route 90, but Shahar and Wayne’s directions helped me cross the large Harvey Canal and get me to the ferry across the river, a vehicle ferry costing just $1 for a car and really only used by tourists and cyclists. Once on the other side I made my way through the Downtown area to Uptown, made very easy to find by following the Streetcar (old tram), where I easily found the home of Bill and Erin, my New Orleans hosts found through the Warm Showers website. They are both keen cyclists and I was surprised to find that Bill has his own mail order business selling bike parts to touring enthusiasts, so imagine my delight when I discovered that he was one of the few dealers in the USA to stock my tyres, Schwalbe Marathon XRs. So imagine my dismay when I discovered that he didn’t have any more of my size in stock as they don’t make them any more! His biggest selling product is the British made Brooks saddle. Bill was really impressed with mine, probably one of the oldest, tattiest and misshaped Brooks he had ever seen, though to me it is so comfortable and I dread the thought of having to replace it.

In the morning my first stop was Bill’s office for a little tour around, then the rest of the day was spent dodging the rain, walking under the covered shop fronts, popping in a few, stopping for coffee etc, it wasn’t nice out there. I went into a camera shop to pass the time, being the only customer they latched on to me and tried to sell me a lens attachment I didn’t want for $899, “But a discount of $200 brings it down to a incredible bargain price of $699”. It was ultra wide angle, something I would love but this had the worst vignetting I have ever seen, it was a pile of junk, but they really didn’t want me to go empty handed, or more precisely with a full wallet, so two of them worked on me, the price dropped to $300, then one eventually said to the other “I don’t think he is going to buy it, he is not a buyer”, “Got it in one, that is what I keep telling you” I replied and with that they both walked off and grabbed some poor unsuspecting passer-by on the street. I met Shahar for coffee. His parents live in the city and he had kindly brought me maps to cover the rest of my journey to New York. I’ll tell you, I don’t deserve to be treated this well. It as really interesting to hear some of the recent but tragic history of New Orleans from Bill and Erin. In August 2005 Hurricane Katrina was on a direct path for New Orleans, there was a mandatory evacuation of the entire city, so armed with 3 days supply of clothes, they headed off to stay with family in Alabama. Whilst they were there they heard that the levees had been breached and the city had been flooded, nobody was allowed back into the city and the National Guard enforced road blocks. It was another 6 weeks before they were able to get back to their home. 80% of the city had been flooded, but as it is below sea level it was unlike a ’normal’ flood because it didn’t recede, the water remained there for weeks. They had no idea what had happened to their home, but Erin’s work moved to temporary accommodation in Lafayette and Bill had to do what he could from an office somebody had let him use. The hotels were full for miles around, shelters were set up but they managed to acquire a mobile home to stay in, which they also had to evacuate when Hurricane Rita came through. When they eventually returned home they were one of the lucky 20%, there was no flood damage at all though the roof had some wind damage and it is safe to say the food in the fridge was passed it’s ’best before’ date. The city was far from back to normal, most districts were still without electricity, the supermarkets and grocery stores remained closed for months, the restaurants were packed but could only serve food on paper plates, all of the traffic lights were out of action and it was to be months before any sense of normality returned and 2 years before the street car returned to service. Even now there is still plenty of damage and an enormous amount of work to be done and Katrina is still a subject I hear talked about pretty much everywhere I go around here.

Bill and Erin very kindly took me on a tour of the city, all the bits that I would not have visited if I was sightseeing on my own. I could have only seen it with their local knowledge, they call it ’The Disaster Tour’. Just up the road from them was the first thing to look at, a gated entrance to a park, the water mark still clearly visible on the white paint. We carried on up to one of the levees. Nearby was a post with a height gauge, showing clearly that we were standing below sea level. Just a few metres away was a large canal complete with it’s new water pumps that get used even if they just have a bit of heavy rain as being below sea level it isn’t going to drain on it’s own. From the bridge we could see where the levee had been breached, many of the houses have gone, plots standing empty, other have been rebuilt, yet more are boarded up. This used to be a desirable and expensive place to live, the prices unsurprisingly have plummeted, others have moved in to the area now that it within their price range. We visited an area of another levee breach, this one being in a poorer community, it was totally devastated near to the breach, now all you can see is the concrete bases of houses, though work has just started on rebuilding in the area. A little further from the breach repaired home stand side-by-side with houses that are pretty much as they were immediately after Katrina. The sides are marked with large X’s, with information in each sector such as date checked and searched, number of dead people found, number of dead animals found etc. I was shocked by the state the place is still in. Back home disasters such as this drop from the news and we forget about it and with the passage of time was assume all is back to normal, but over 4 years on there is still an enormous amount of work to do. Many people have never returned, the city’s population is well down on pre Katrina. I found it morbid, yet thoroughly fascinating. I questioned why I was really wanting to see this, but it is really no different to seeing the likes of Hiroshima, it is just more recent history, that’s all. We stopped of at a café that Bill and Erin use with their cycling club, then we went our separate ways. I walked the short distance to the thoroughly absorbing French Quarter, probably the most famous part of New Orleans. I hadn’t really picked a good day. The previous day’s rain had long gone to be replaced with lovely warm sunshine, I walked around in shirt sleeves. It was New Years Eve, the place was already filling with people out starting early on their binge, but to make matters worse the Cincinatti Bearcats are playing the Florida Gators in a college American Football match tomorrow, another 80,000 people have arrived and they don’t seem to be the quiet types that are heading to the nearest library to sit down with a good book! As the day wore on it got busier and nosier, hardly surprising.

So tomorrow I am on the move again and as yet I haven’t planned a place for my next stop. I rather fancy a 10-14 day stretch without a stop, so I will ride for a week or so before I decide where my next break will be. I will be surprised if I can get through without another large slice of Southern Hospitality though.

Have a joyful and prosperous New Year and a very big thank you to all those many people who have shown me such kindness through 2009, you have made it a wonderful year for me.

Day 954 - Morgan City, Louisiana

I left Silsbee with just the intention of taking it easy and trying not to make myself feel worse. I plodded into a slight headwind but made reasonable progress. By the time I had passed through Mauriceville it was time to start looking for a place to camp, the road ahead looked good, plenty of pine trees, but the whole way along there were properties with large areas of land, it wasn’t looking so good after all, but it was getting dark. Things started to look a bit desperate so when I spotted a wrecked old mobile home with a junkyard around it I went in for a little look around. With all the recent rain the track was muddy and by the time I had gone just a short distance the tyres were all clogged up with mud so I got off and walked which just meant my shoes got muddy too. Despite it being totally unsuitable for camping I decided this was where I had to stay, I really had no time to carry on. I crossed over a little stream and found a small compacted mud area between the debris of cleared woodland. Water was all around, but it would be fine if it didn’t rain, I felt pretty sure it wouldn’t, it hadn’t really rained all day. Thankfully I was right for a change……for the first hour, then there was a thunder storm that resulted in heavy rain for half an hour leaving the vestibule under water, I would just have to cook with the stove in water. If it didn’t rain again at least I had a chance that it would drain away by morning.
At 5am I was awoken by another thunder storm, this one even worse. Lightening flashed overhead followed by deafening thunder, all assisted by strong wind and heavy rain. It was Christmas Eve morning and my plans were already being washed away. I had intended to stop and ask to camp behind a church, then join them for the service and see what happened from there, but who would even want to sit next to me if I was covered in mud and soaking wet? By the time I packed up the worst was over, the bike and my shoes picked up half a ton of mud but other than that things weren’t looking too bad. I cycled along in the rain riding through all the puddles to try and clean as much off as possible. A few miles brought me to a bridge over a river and away from Texas and into Louisiana, where everything seemed to change quickly. People called out to me as I passed through a village, though I couldn’t understand a single word, I can only assume they were speaking English. The rain stopped and I reached a junction with gas stations and casinos, gambling is obviously very legal here. Having had a bite and a warm drink my spirits were lifted. I didn’t so much as people watch as people listen, their accents were completely different and very strong. I carried on to Lake Charles, I was running out of map and didn’t have one of Louisiana yet. I crossed another large river on the I10, it was steep and horribly narrow, you just take you life in your hand and try and get across as fast as possible, but this was a big bridge. I searched around in Lake Charles for a map, I couldn’t find one, being Christmas Eve most places were shut. I had no idea of my route out, though I guessed it was east so I could at least use my compass….oh, hang on a minute! I would have to ask people the way, “Excuse me, I don’t know where I want to get to and have no idea of the road name or number, but I think I need to go east, can you help me?”. I wasn’t feeling confident. But I am an experienced and resourceful cyclist, I have other navigational tools, I had the wind, it had been pushing me nicely along, I just had to make sure the wind was still pushing me along “Can you tell me which way the wind is going?”, “Hell Boy, it gonna be blowin’ THAT way”. Thankfully I found a map and continued eastwards on the US90, I cycled with ease, cruising along at an effortless 30kph, it was so easy that I didn’t want to turn south and head to Hayes and route 14, but that was the way I had chosen to go. The landscape was now was very flat, I don’t expect to see even a slope for days now. The land was pretty though, fields were interspersed with house that had plenty of land, mainly smallish wooden houses, some were mobile homes. I decided that I would not go any further than Hayes and as I rode along I thought to myself “Some poor family is quietly making their final preparations for Christmas and some smelly, muddy English cyclist is about to walk into their lives and bugger everything up for them“. Hayes wasn’t big, but despite churches being everywhere there didn’t seem to be one here. I asked a family outside their house and was told it was a little further on. I soon found a Baptist Church and checked around the back for camping. Despite being decent grass it was very squelchy under foot, but I would still hope to camp there. I checked the church and the small building next door, nothing was open, time to try a house to see if I could locate the Pastor. There was no answer at the first, there was at the second. There were two women there making there final preparations on some lovely looking Christmas food. They told me the Pastor was in a village that was miles away and the Christmas service had been on Wednesday, I had already missed it by 24 hours. “The nearest one will be Lake Arthur another 18 miles further on”, “Hmm, I will never make it today, thanks, but I think I will have to give up on a church service tonight”. “Do you need anything? Do you need any money?” I was asked “No thanks I have everything I need…oh, hang on a minute, can you spare a little water?”, so as I filled my water bottle I was asked “Where are you going to stay tonight”, “Oh I will just head out of the village a bit and find somewhere to camp”, “Well if you ask my husband you could sleep in our camper van”, she gave him a call and within a couple of minutes he returned to the house and kindly said I could stop in the van. I took my bike around the back expecting to see a small caravan but suddenly realised I was being offered a brand new monster thingy, one of those where the sides extend out to make it even bigger. This was no camper van, it was a small luxurious house. Mickey switched on the electrics, water and hot water, showed me around the mansion and said “Come and join us in the house for something to eat when you are ready”. Wow, I had landed on my feet again with the free run of a $50,000 brand new mobile home, and they called this camping! After a wonderfully hot shower I joined them in the house. There was Mickey and Martha and their daughter Jill, her partner Kyle and her son Kamron and I was offered more than I wanted and made to feel very at home. We asked each other questions and chatted away and despite it being Christmas Eve I was soon on my favourite subjects of guns, politics and religion, all guaranteed to create an interesting discussion. “Ah, we have heaps of guns, I always carry one with me the whole time. In these parts every car and every house will have guns, it’s just a way of life”. I was shown a few “Are any of these loaded?” I asked cautiously, must gun deaths here are caused by accidents and I didn’t want to add to the statistics, “No, only that pistol on the counter over there, that is the one I usually carry around with me”. At one point I asked Mickey “So what did you think when a scruffy Englishman turned up on your doorstep this evening?”, I was surprised at his reply of “I thought God had sent you here”. It’s an interesting answer as I always think that I am being looked after. I was also shown pictures of their nearby second home which Mickey had built with a little help from the families. It was wrecked by Hurricane Rita, the one that arrived just three months after Katrina had destroyed much of New Orleans. They had completely rebuilt it only to see it completely wrecked 18 months ago by Hurricane Ike, this time with 3 feet of water in the house. Mickey had rebuilt it in 5 weeks and raised it on to 7ft stilts so that it would not happen again. They were a wonderful family and even offered me the chance to stay on Christmas Day and have dinner with Martha’s family. I would think about it, but this seemed too good an opportunity to miss, to see how Americans really celebrate Christmas. Let me ask you a quick question, what would you do if a complete stranger arrived on your doorstep at 5pm on Christmas Eve?

After a breakfast of delicious biscuits (a cross between bread rolls and scones) and figs we went to their daughter’s Jill’s house who I had met the previous evening. Now Hayes, like all the other villages in southern Louisiana, has a very tight knit little community. Now you remember the close community of Terlingua Ghost Town don’t you, well it was nothing like that. As we just drove a block down the road with presents in the boot (trunk) of the car Mickey said “That’s my sister’s house, that’s my brother’s house, that’s my niece’s house, that’s my daughter’s house, in fact everybody in this street is our family. Mickey’s family also live in Hayes, we known everybody in Hayes and Bell City, the next village along”. In fact I later noticed that the street name was the family name. Each village had a population of about a 1000. This really was a family affair like I have never seen before. It was great to see presents around a tree, then Michael their son arrived with his partner Danielle and the present opening started, I was amazed, there was even one for me! The men’s gift seemed to focus on hunting, though thankfully they hadn’t given me a gun! Around mid day we drove the short distance to Martha’s parent’s house, where I was assured there would be plenty more family to meet (photo, Mickey, Jill and Martha are 1st, 2nd and 4th from the left respectively). And by heck there were too, I was introduced to them all as they arrived but I am sure they must have got fed up with my constant question of “Ok, remind me who you are and where you fit in with the rest of the family”. Dinner was delicious and a traditional winter Louisiana meal of Gumbo, a sort of spicy seafood broth. They were a bit surprised when I helped with drying up the dishes “Men here never do that, it’s a woman’s job” to which Kyle called out “It’s the men’s job to watch the football”. As time went by it was noticeable that there was a split, the men sat outside around a fire listening to Cajun music and talking about hunting, football and drinking beer, all the manly stuff, and the women sat inside and talked about all sorts. It was much colder than of late and being as I can sit around in the cold almost any evening I want, I opted to stay inside where I was bombarded with questions and Brooke, the bossy one (actually not really bossy but the source of most of the questions) insisted that I take their family photo and that I put it on the blog (photo), so there you go Brooke, job done, sorry it is not a very good quality photograph! Martha has 5 siblings, all married with kids, so there must have been about 30 people there over the course of the day, but they were all wonderful, especially her parents who tried to ensure that I ate and drank as mush as possible and that I made myself at home. And I certainly felt very at home, I had met 5 people yesterday and the rest today, yet I felt very comfortable with them all, lovely people, a wonderful family. Most lived in the village, some a few miles away and the furthest just across the border into Texas. We left around 22:30, I couldn’t quite work out where the day had gone, but a wonderful Christmas Day that I shall never forget, I am sure I will remember it at every Christmas in the future.

I took up their offer and stayed for Boxing Day, not that they have Boxing Day here. Mickey took me out to their second home, which they call the camp. They acquired it as a rough piece of land 8 years ago and it is now a beautifully landscaped, located by a large river, complete with hook ups so that other people can bring their camper vans down and join them. Mickey and Martha had done all the work themselves, Mickey being a very talented builder/electrician/etc. I was really impressed with it and Mickey said he loved it most when other people could use it and enjoy it. We then went back and switched from the truck into the little 4x4 buggy and he took me through rough tracks and water which I thought we would never get through, to show me the hunting hides he had built around the fields, there is no stopping this guy he is a workaholic! Then it was into the BMW and back into Lake Charles where the 6 of us that had been together when I arrived went to a seafood restaurant and they bought me a meal of Crawfish, a local seafood and rather like a small freshwater lobster, though judging by the amount we got through on our table they must almost be extinct! This is now Cajun country where some people still speak French as the area was originally settled by French speakers from Canada. As we drove around I listened to the lively Cajun music that heavily features the accordion and the fiddle. A tour of the town brought us to their church which holds 2000 people, then back home before visiting Ronnie, Mickey’s brother whose garage was more like a museum with antiques on the wall and beautifully restored old cars on the floor. In the fields we pass birds that I thought were flamingos, but they turned out to be spoonbills. Spoonbills are normally white, but these had bright pink wings caused by the crawfish that they eat, I just hope I don’t turn pink, it really isn’t a colour that suites me! We then headed out for another meal with Martha’s parents. What fabulous people I had been lucky enough to stumble upon and who had opened their hearts to me at Christmas time. They are relatively wealthy but have chosen not to move to a larger house, but they do give large sums of money to those around them that are less fortunate than themselves, they are wonderful, kind and generous people who I shall never forget.

Even as I was about to leave the following morning Mickey and Martha’s generosity was shining through as Martha asked “Are you sure you don’t need dome money”. I gave my standard reply of “Thanks, but it is me that has chosen to put myself in this position” to which she replied “Yes, but it also nice to be blessed at times”, a good point, but I had been blessed over the last two days with their generosity, company and conversation, and money just can’t buy that. I set off on a nice sunny morning, the fields looked wonderful. People’s gardens had what looked like mole hills, but they were mounds created by the crawfish and flooded fields I passed had the nets in them to trap them all. I also passed swamp land and rivers. This is prime alligator territory, but I didn’t see any, it is a bit cold for them and they tend to bury themselves, the only one I saw was road kill. The going was very flat so a steady speed, though after Lake Arthur I had a nice tailwind and the riding was very easy going, through rice fields and later fields of sugar cane. I made good progress and it seems I have misjudged the distance to New Orleans and I would now guess it will be just 3 days riding and not the 4 or 5 that I had anticipated. Louisiana is known as “Sportsman’s Paradise”, but the sport is the wildlife. Being a Sunday I saw no end of people men in camouflage heading off for a bit of hunting. I’ll tell you what, if I was a duck this is the last place I would come for a holiday!

Day 949 - Silsbee

Merry Christmas y’all.



For those that don’t know or realise, Santa is sat on the shape of Texas, in the style of the Texan Flag. It is known as the lone star state, people have flags and lone star things everywhere.

Being pretty much bike less in Austin was tricky, though Mary was ever willing to run me around, show me the sights and the places to eat. In the car she carried around a few packages for Christmas gifts for the homeless, of which there are plenty here. As we stopped at some traffic lights she gave a package to a man, it was a lovely gesture of her part, but I was really taken with the man’s reaction, he was truly thankful and gave a wonderful smile, I found it uplifting.

The wheel rim arrived on Friday as I had hoped, I took the wheel in and within a couple of hours they called me back to say it was ready for collection, a good service indeed and they even gave me some discount on a chain I bought at the same time. Whilst we were there a Brompton salesman arrived with a couple of folding bikes. Folding bikes are a rare thing in the US so everybody was fascinated by them, especially the speed and the size the folded down to. Back at the house I adjusted the brakes to cater for a slightly wider rim and replaced the chain, then took the bike out for a test ride in the dark, then made a mistake I haven’t made in a long time and rode on the wrong side of the road. Even when a car was coming straight at me my first thought was “What is this idiot doing?”…whoopsie!

So Saturday morning I was ready to go. I set off with a new map case and had thrown the old one away, everything looked so clear for a change. I was also wearing a new pair of sock, well, technically not new, second hand, but they were going free, so I now have to decide what to do with all that money I have saved through stealing loo rolls, I think I have saved as much as 50 cents now. I dropped down the steep hill and braked hard to stop at a junction. Whilst I had been in Austin I felt I could still have used the bike, but having made this stop I was glad I didn’t, I think the pressure on the rim would have completely shattered it. First stop was the library, so I finally set off about midday. I didn’t get very far, I was too tempted by a café I passed. Whilst I was there a guy was checking out my bike, then he came in and had a chat. He was Jacob, about 21 and a cycle tourist himself. Outside I saw his new looking Surly with its Brookes saddle, a nice set up. He was bubbling with enthusiasm, and when I told him I was heading for New Orleans he told me he had just cycled back from there “I would really love to join you, I could do, I don’t have a job at the moment….it’s so tempting…nah, I had better not, I only have $70 and I would slow you down anyway”. I was tempted to persuade him, I think he would have been fun and good company. He had to go, I was sorry when he left, though he gave me a contact for New Orleans, more cyclists. It was about 14:30 before I eventually made my way out of Austin, I wasn’t going to get very far. I quickly covered about 60km, it was easy going. I stocked up with food in Bastrop, then passed a large wood with a path leading into it, I jumped at the opportunity, even if it was a little close to the road, but I was nice and secluded.

The following morning as I rejoined the road I suddenly realised I didn’t have a compass. Sod it, I had thrown it away with the old map case, still, I hardly ever use it, who needs a compass anyway? The road was easy going again, just what I needed, I was going well. I carried on along the 71, then saw a sign saying “Smithsville, next 3 exits”….Smithsville, I shouldn’t be anywhere near Smithsville…shit! I checked the map and where there were two sections of road with no numbers marked, I had taken the wrong one assuming I needed to remain on the 71. A basic mistake, but I am sure if I had had my compass I would have seen I was heading in the wrong direction. I think my loo roll money will have to go towards a new compass, I would have preferred it to have gone on socks, they are cheaper. I stopped at a gas station and checked their road atlas whilst I had a break. I was glad I did, I don’t have a map of Louisiana and where I was going to enter from Texas would have meant a much longer and less interesting route, so I have replanned the route almost entirely. Whilst I looked at the map I had a piece of carrot cake, but this is Texas, it was a big piece. I struggled back to the table with it, carrying it in a wheelbarrow and by the time I had finished it I felt sick, but that may have been caused by the two pints of white chocolate caramel cappuccino I washed it down with……hey, I do have healthy diet ok! That cake had carrots in it! By 14:30 I was at last back on the route I had meant to be on this morning. In Brenham I asked which way the 150 left town, nobody knew and I couldn’t remember the name of the next town I was heading for, the map was outside. I am so missing my compass, I think I must have checked the direction far more than I realised. The camping situation wasn’t good. Having asked somebody where I could camp I was directed to the picnic area a little further along the road “Isn’t it right next to the road?” I asked, “No, it’s set back from the road”. Well it’s all a matter of opinion, to me it was right next to the road, “set back” in this case was about 40m! Beggars can’t be choosers, I set up the tent.

The road continued to roll to Navasota, it was more hilly than Texas Hill Country. At Richards I stopped in a very quaint and cheap little café that soon started to fill up. A guy sat on the next table and asked “Are you on the Southern Tier?” It’s a mapped cycled route across the southern states and clearly my route was crossing it. He was a cyclist from Navasota and said “You will probably reach New Orleans in a couple of days. I thought it was still another 500 miles so I guess he must be a faster rider than me. Two days later I was still in Texas! The back road out was pretty, I was heading for Sam Houston National Forest, it was lovely and had little traffic. I passed wonderful lakes that would have been perfect for camping but I am never in the right place at the right time. I reached New Waverly, I assumed I was still on the Southern Tier as I was asked “Are you coming or going?”. I left town heading for some more of the forest, but it never seemed to arrive. I was passing ramshackle dwellings, mostly mobile homes, but all with piles of junk outside complete with the obligatory wrecked and rusting large old Americans cars scattering the land. It is a very different America to what I have seen so far, I guess I am entering the Deep South. There are far more black people here, some would call out “Merry Christmas Sir” and wave, all very friendly. Most of the properties have dogs, they run along the inside of the boundary fences to see me off, though some get out and chase me, though they don’t seem to be aggressive. I tend to wind them up so that they keep running flat out, how immature!

I left Austin with a very sore throat, now it was turning into a full blown heavy cold, I really didn’t feel like going far, but I had to push on. I started with a head wind, progress was painfully slow, just what I needed! On reflection a head wind wasn’t a bad thing, my nose was streaming, I was constantly clearing out snot as I went along, the headwind made sure it was carried well clear of the rear panniers, the last thing I wanted was to have the panniers caked in a couple of pounds of dried snot. On a day like today McDonalds was a God send, I went in and didn’t want to leave, at least I could use a load of their napkins as handkerchiefs. But leave I had to. The wind dropped and the rain arrived, for the next 20 miles it rained hard, I got a thorough soaking for the first time since Korea, but this time I was wearing shoes and socks and me feet squelched. I stopped at a gas station and rung out my new socks, it’s seems they are not going to be lucky socks! “Hey, I love you accent, where are you from?” I was asked. The rain had stopped when I arrived, it started again when I left, it was going to be one of those days. The ground is generally pretty swampy now, clearly it rains a lot in these parts. I rode past Big Thicket National Reserve where the bush was both thick and swampy. I struggled to find a place to camp and eventually turned through a gate that said “No Trespassing”. I carried on a little way until I arrived at some hunting hides. I camped in full view of them. In the unlikely event that somebody should turn up and use them I didn’t want to be concealed and mistaken for a bit of wildlife, though as yet I haven’t seen any deer coming out of tents wearing faded red T-shirts! On the subject of wildlife the most common road kill on the hit list (excuse the pun) seems to be Armadillo, I bet that makes a funny scrunch, followed by raccoons, though as yet I haven’t seen either of them alive, shame.

It was a warm wet night, I hardly needed a sleeping bag. By morning the ground was waterlogged. Warm and wet signalled the return of my old buddies, the mosquitos…happy days. I set off feeling worse than the previous day with the intention of not pushing too hard, but concentrating on staying as warm and as dry as possible.

Day 943 - Austin

I didn’t have to be in Austin until Monday, it was only 82 miles along the direct route, so I asked Andreas if I could stay another day with them in San Antonio. He said that was no problem and even took me out to lunch. It was another sociable and late night. I am an old fart! It was catching up with me so I returned with Andreas leaving the party animals to return in the wee small hours.

Even as I was departing the following morning Jana and Andreas were still trying to sort me out a place to stay for the evening, bless them. They have been a wonderful family to stay with, talented musicians and very sociable hosts, I have enjoyed myself here immensely. Niko and Rachael will soon be off to Nashville as they have been asked to go there for a few days to do some recording so that there work can be promoted, I wish them all the very best with that. Whilst I stayed with them I saw a sign saying “The family that plays together, stays together” and it certainly seemed to be very true in their case. The route out of town was dead easy, up to the end of the road, left onto Blanco, then just keep going straight. For a Sunday it was really busy, I decided to change my route as I went along, though I never really escaped the traffic, I just probably found more of it. I got there slowly, heading out of town towards Texas Hill County. Yeah, I guess it was hilly, but it was rather like typical British hills, up and down but nothing very high. Despite getting onto the smaller roads that lacked even the smallest of signposts there was still an alarming amount of traffic. The days of deserted roads seem to be over with now. There were houses dotted around the landscape, there was nothing that wasn’t owned and lived on, it didn’t look good for camping, but that is the way it will be from now on, only worse the further north I go. As dusk approached I decided I would have to ask to camp on somebody’s land, there was little option. Most of the gates were large and firmly locked, rather unwelcoming, unexpected guests are not the norm around here it would seem. I looked for a gate that was open, went down the long gravel drive and found nobody at home, probably the reason why the gate was open. A little further on I found some open land with trees set back from the road, so headed across, somewhat wet under foot, but beggars can’t be choosers. I set up my new tent for the first time, a Hilleberg tent, the Rolls Royce of tents. I was surprised to find it a reasonable bit bigger than my old tent, it felt like luxury. Down stairs there is a kitchen, lounge and dining room, upstairs there are three bedrooms. Outside there is a garage and car port, plenty of space for the bike and a large garden, though that tends to vary in size depending on where I camp. The only problem is that it has a outside restroom (loo to you folk at home). Once set up I took out the new sleeping bag, a wonderful down filled thing that should keep me warm at -8c, and down to about -15c if I added the nice snug liner I have to go with it. But what did I need all that for? It was a lovely warm night that didn’t drop below 15c. I was so pissed off, it was so hot that I couldn’t even sleep in the sleeping bag….what a waste of money!

It did rain a little over night, so that was a relief! I went of 3 months packing the tent away bone dry every morning, but a few nights ago I packed it away wet for the first time and have packed it away wet every morning since, the days of a dry tent are over too. I soon passed through the lovely little town of Wimberley, the roads were like roads at home, no shoulder, so traffic was passing close. I reached the 290 that would take me east to Austin, the state capital of Texas. It had a shoulder of sorts, but there were also plenty of road works to make additional hazards. Yesterday had been wall to wall sunshine, but today was back to the normal gloom. As I used the brakes to slow down at some traffic lights I heard a rather menacing clicking noise from the back wheel, one that I had experience about 5 years ago on another bike. I was pretty sure what it was so chose to ignore it in the hope that it would lose interest and was just attention seeking. As I used the brakes at the next set of lights it sounded worse. I got of to have a look at the problem, it had succeeded in grabbing my attention. There was a nice split about 2 inches long in the rim, I cursed the roads of San Antonio that had caused it. They were terrible roads, I was bounced all over the place as I rode along, it had clearly caused the split in the rim, it had nothing to so with the fact that I had ridden over 35,000 miles on that rim with 50 pounds of crap on the back, braking hard through the mountains, no, no, no, it had nothing to do with all that, it was certainly those roads in San Antonio, despite the fact that I was now over 60 miles from it. I only had about 20kms to go to get to Austin, but I was really concerned that the rim would fail completely. I did what I could to relieve the stress on it, I released most of the air out of the tube to reduce the pressure and I did my best to reduce the weight on the back. I thought I was rather clever on the latter, I managed to off load four $1 notes and swap them for a large coffee and a milkshake, that should reduce the weight and help no end. I made my way into Austin very gingerly, avoiding any bump that I could. I little stone pinged around the mudguard and hit me on the leg, it made me jump, for a second I thought the rim had shattered completely. But I made it and arrived safely at my next Couch Surfing host. It was early afternoon and Mary needed to get out of the house as her daughter had to give a piano lesson, so we zipped around town visiting all the bike shops. This is a cycling enthusiasts place, Lance Armstrong lives here and has an investment in Mellow Johnny’s, one of the bike shops we visited, but I couldn’t find a 36 hole rim anywhere in town, they are all a bunch of roadies, with nothing more that a 32 hole rim, most a lot less. I wanted to replace the rim with the same as I have, a Sun Rhino, but it seems they do not exist anymore, so a Sun Rhino Lite rim will be with me in 4 days time depending on the weather, that is a Friday so it’s pushing it a bit. It looks as though my stay in Austin is going to be much longer than expected. We also made a visit to the post office where I picked up my new bank card and even a Christmas Pressie. I called in to the first ATM we could find, it worked, I had made it with just $6 to spare, what a relief.

So it is at least another two days before I have a rebuilt back wheel with a shiny new rim, but I have been enjoying my stay in Austin. I took a walk around the city centre making my first stop the Capitol building. It was built in 1888 and stands 15 feet taller than the US Capitol building in Washing D.C., well this is Texas after all. I was surprised to find that I was able to wander in without even having my bags checked, probably due to the holidays. As I took a few snaps (photo) the guards only really seemed interested in where I was from and having a chat. I guess that shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. The American people are wonderful, always friendly and willing for a chat, so different from what I was expecting before I arrived here. I used to think they would all be loud and brash, they are not, I guess it is just the loud brash type that stand out and are noticed. I made my way south of the river to some wonderful quirky shops, best of all being a massive party costume shop and the nearby ‘Uncommon Things’, basically little antiques in a shop which felt more like a museum. I ate a burger at Fran’s, which reminds me, the further east I head the greater number of larger people I seem to see. There are all sorts of burger places here including a chain called Sonic, a drive in place where you park up with a menu beside the window, order your food which is then brought out to you and you sit in you car and eat. But Austin is mainly about the nightlife and the main reason I came here, though these late nights are tough! Music is the main entertainment, there are literally hundreds of places to see live music and Mary has so far taken me to see Toni Price and to Antone’s, the centre of Blues music in Austin where we saw Malford Milligan. What a guy he is, his band played a while before he came on, but his presence was more impressive than his singing, he loved the music and was a real joy to watch. He is an unusual guy too, he is black but an albino, a big guy and odd looking until you realise he is albino. Toni Price sang a wonderful song called ‘Richest One’, a song I heard for the first time a few days back sang by Jana Laven in San Antonio, then heard it again on a CD chosen sort of randomishly by Mary yesterday, spooky that, 3 times I have heard it in a single week, but I love it, it’s a great song. I am getting into the Christmas spirit too, I helped Mary put up her Christmas tree yesterday, but tonight we are heading out for some more music. I have also been shown some of the restaurants whilst I have been here and had a meal with Mary’s daughter Kelly and her partner Michael at a fabulous Mexican place, the Avocado Margarita going down particularly well. I had already met her other daughter Rebecca and her partner, Couch Surfing offers a great social life.

I had rather expected to be in New Orleans for Christmas which would have been a bit of a problem trying to find somewhere to stay, but with the delay here caused by my rear wheel it looks as though I shall be cycling and camping on Christmas Day, so that sort of solves the problem rather unexpectedly. This will be my third Christmas away, but the first time I will be cycling through Christmas, so it will be different that’s for sure.

Right now I am in the brand new ‘Laura Bush Library’, a name that hasn’t gone down too well with some of the locals, but I have to say the library facilities here is the USA are very good. Sometimes I am reminded rather harshly how long I have been travelling. I have just read a very sad email telling me that somebody I stayed with just over a year ago in Australia has died of Cancer. I feel very saddened, I was made so welcome there, I felt I may well meet them again some day, but it seems that is not to be the case. Life on the road is pretty good most of the time, but sometimes it can be shit!