It was a good night. Peaceful by the lake. Then at 7 am, a bulldozer. Loud as shit. Right by our tents. Prone, and helpless, we lay awake in our tents. When the coast was clear, we got up.

The sun was rising over the lake, and the geese were honking. It was a highlight morning. Ryan took out his hand-crank-powered radio and we listened to a morning show as we made oatmeal. Why didn’t we think of doing this earlier? The radio made it feel like we were a household, or that we were part of civilization. Way better than dead silence, our usual. A Rod Stewart song came on, we looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then we danced.

Some guys have all the luck.
Some guys have all the pain.
Some guys get all the breaks.
Some guys do nothing but complain.

As we packed up, we noticed an old man watching us from a distance. He sat at the picnic area 100 ft away. Staring. It rekindled recent memories. Paranoia. “Is he going to bust us? Why would he call the cops? He should just come and talk to us. Bastard. A few minutes later, he left. Really self-centered guys dreaming up how important we are. Wanting attention. Wanting to be baaaaad.

It was hard leaving, and even harder once we got into the open fields. The wind hit us hard. Angry wind. Sapping us, breaking our spirits. The sun was out too. My red arms were lined with sweat beads. My bike shorts got swampy. The landscape was boring. Flat, swampy land. Nothing around.

When we stopped at a gas station, an odd woman walked up to us. Short boys cut, short, plump, short arms and legs, round torso, like a ball, doughnut face. “Ya’ll pedalin’ the entire way?” She made a pedaling motion with her hands. “Ya’ll makin’ me thirsty. I’ll drink for ya. I’ll drink a case for ya.” No need to drink. She was already drunk. It was early afternoon.

We turned North to go to Pete and Mary Ann’s, friends of Ryan’s grandmother, who were North of Lake Charles. The wind was at our backs. It carried us. It was a relief to be riding at an easy 22 mph. We had to go over a few bridges. Traffic was pretty bad, and a couple of trucks passed us really closely. Ryan felt the danger. He stood up on his pedals and sprinted. We didn’t stop in Lake Charles at all. Too tired to stop and too close to our end destination for the day.

It was a relief to get to Pete and Mary Ann’s. They came out and greeted us. They said they had been looking forward to our arrival. Really nice people. We went in, Mary Ann made some sweet tea, we took showers, and rested.

Mary Ann made a taco casserole for dinner. Huge platter of heavy meat and cheese. Ryan and I kept eating and eating. Hungry, selfish boys. Bottomless pits. We polished it off, easily. She had also made a coconut cake. I had about five slices. I was surprised by how much I could eat.

Mary Ann and Pete were really selfless. They wanted us to eat. They poured us glasses of milk to nourish us. Pete went out of his way to make sure we had everything we needed. Great hosting.

happy jumping guys

We were able to successfully avoid the cold and get a full night’s rest.  Knights of Columbus saved us.  We celebrated in the front of the building the next morning.

The fire station was next door.  Really macho firemen watching two ugly guys jumping in celebration.  Harmless ugly cyclists giggling.  We wanted to rub the hospitality of the Knights of Columbus, our own personal knights, in their faces.  Take that!

jack, the indian cajun

We were approaching Kaplan, Louisiana.  I wanted to stop at the Post Office and send whatever crap I wasn’t using home.  Books and water filter were the first things to go.  I ended up unloading about 7 lbs of my load.  I hoped it would improve my ability to cycle into the wind.  I was desperate.

When I came back out of the Post Office, I saw Eoin speaking to an Indian guy with a blazer on.  I figured he was asking the typical questions:  Where are you headed and why are you doing this?  He said goodbye and took off.

Eoin pulled out a $20 bill.  Jack, the Indian with a cajun accent, had stopped to give us some cash money.  He wanted to buy us lunch.  He said he admired what we were doing and passed us earlier on Highway 14.  I wish we could have gotten a picture of him.  I wish I could have made out with him a little and give him thanks.  Eoin told me he fooled around with him in his truck a little, so that eased my mind.  I don’t like taking money without giving something back.

tension in the wind

We were headed to Lake Arthur.  The entire day was to be spent on Highway 14.  We hoped that the wind had died down the previous night.  We were wrong.

14 took us through deforested areas and pasture.  The wind abused us heavily there.  No trees to shield our fragile bodies from the wind.  It’s almost not even worth commenting on anymore.  It’s just a given that we’ll go against the wind.

There was nothing to do but comment about the wind and geography.  We disagreed about wind strength and direction.  We disagreed about the local geography and how far the coast was from our current location.  We disagreed about the geography of Lake Arthur.  Wind and disagreement.  The tension was mounting, and there was nothing to look forward to.  Two whiny babies disagreeing and complaining in the wind.

stupid gas station girl

44 miles later we arrived at Lake Arthur.  The town welcomed us with a large bridge.  Thanks.

We rode into town.  We disagreed about what direction we should take into town.  We stopped at a gas station to get $4 Po-boys and french fries.  A mechanic was telling us it was good.  Cheap lunch on Jack.  We briefly disagreed about whether we should eat there or not.  We ended up going in to check it out.

We went in to find a young angry girl working the gas station.  She didn’t care about us.  She wanted to sit on her ass all day and get paid for it.  I wanted her to get her ass out of the stool and feed us.  We walked over to the food section.  She had to serve us food.  Dry food under a heat lamp.  It was calories.  Cheap calories.

She couldn’t serve us Po-boys because they were low on shrimp.  The sign next to her said “Overstuffed Po-boys! Only $4!”  I tried joking with her about it not being overstuff.  Understuffed it should read.  No smile.  No laugh.  Just malice and contempt.  She wanted to sit back down on that stool and stew over who got voted off American Idol the previous night.  I bet she hated Paula.

Eoin asked her if she could cook up some more.  She refused.  “I am not allowed to do that until 3 pm.”  It was 1:30 PM.  Stupid girl.  Stupid lazy angry girl.  We suggested stuffing it with chicken tenders or some other meat.  She could not do that.  The ‘Overstuffed’ sign lied.  The gas station lied.  The mechanic lied.  The girl sucked.  We were in a town of liars and a girl that sucked.

tension at Pappy’s

After 45 minutes of riding around looking for food, we wound up at a place called Pappy’s.  Cajun and Po-boys.

We ate our food quickly.  It was good, but the portions were small.  Jack’s $20 was spent quickly.  We were in the company of 3 big black guys that had just come back from Atlanta.  They were promoting their rap music.  They wanted to be rap stars.  One guy declared that they were entrepeneurs.  Cool big word.  Successful big word.  They were cool black guys who rapped.  I didn’t really care about his entrepreneurial abilities.

When they were leaving, Eoin said “see you guys later”.  They didn’t respond.  They just walked out.  Ugly cycling white guy dissed.  This was a repeat of saying goodbye to the New Iberia scammer.

We spoke about the wind.  We discussed how the wind would affect our route tomorrow.  I said the southwest wind would help us on our northerly route tomorrow.  Disagreement.

Eoin said, “Maybe.”

I said, “There is no maybe about it.”

This was how it was earlier that day.  Disagreement turned into a blowup at Pappy’s.  Arguments about the wind.  Stupid.  We were seething…fuming at Pappy’s.

Minutes later we were laughing about it.  We did a limp handshake on it.

early hunt for a camp site

We left Pappy’s in search of a church.  We wanted to find a camp site early.  We found the town square which was situated next to the lake and town park.  It would be an awesome place to camp.  Small beach.  Geese.  Restrooms.  Huge oak trees.  Picnic tables.  A long pier.

We went off to the Police Department to get permission to pitch tents in the park.  I had doubts.  I was preparing myself for a ‘No’.

We went inside and spoke to Liz.  She contacted the Chief.  We got permission.  Damn.  We were elated to have a camping spot this early.  The perfect camping spot.  Liz and the Chief were good to us.

We set up camp.  Eoin bathed in the water while I bathed in the sun.

I’m not wearing a white t-shirt.  That’s my skin.  “Hi hot babes.  Are you interested in an ugly guy with brown arms?”

We tried eating a decent meal.  What we got was watered-down chicken alfredo.  It was chicken alfredo soup.  We didn’t care.  We had each other.

After eating soup, we played harmonica on the beach.  We shared cookies and laughed.  Giggling all night in the moonlight.  It was magical.

7am and my cell phone alarm went off. It was cold and I didn’t want to get up. I looked outside to see if there was any church activity. I didn’t want us to overstay our welcome. I yelled over to Ryan’s tent, “Hey, it’s 7. Maybe another 30 minutes?” Tired, phlem voice, “I’m tired. I couldn’t sleep with all that wind.”

At 7:45, I still didn’t want to get up. “Hey do you think we should get up? It’s almost 8.” “It’s up to you.” Typical Ryan response. “You have no input at all?” We got up slowly.

I got out of the tent and saw a truck over by the administration building. They pulled away and then came back. The driver stayed inside. We had someone watching us. I told Ryan.

He got out of his tent and we started packing up. We kept a nervous eye on the truck. Just sitting there. Watching us. Suspicious. Why didn’t they just come over and talk to us? Probably calling the cops. “We got two harmless boys over here camping on church property. They probably think they’re gonna get away with it.”

Another truck pulled up. Great. They’re calling around to the neighborhood watch, getting all the parishioners involved. Cracking down on two camping boys on bikes. They just sat there, watching.

Our initial nervousness turned to anger and then laughter. It was insane. Why do they care? We’re packing up to leave. And we got the pastor’s approval! Let them gather all their friends and call the cops. The pastor said okay. “Holy crow! What kind of mess did you boys get yourself into?”

They must have thought we were too dangerous to approach. No one wanted to step up and confront us. So I just took my time packing up. Just to piss them off. There! Take that!

As we pulled our bikes to leave, two more trucks pulled up to cut us off. They were surrounding us. I put my brave face on and held my head up high. Acting confidently like you own the place can get you out of jams like this. Ryan ducked his head and looked at the ground. Those extra two cars broke his spirit. We kept walking.

And walking. Nothing happened. No one came out to confront us. As we got closer we realized there was no one sitting in those trucks, and there were a bunch of other cars on the other side of the building, out of sight from where we set up our tents. There must have been a service. No one gave a shit about us.

Two boys working themselves up. Thinking they were the center of attention. Talk of the town. Nope. No one cared. Probably didn’t even notice us. If they did, they probably took note of our big egg helmets. “Uh oh, we’ve got a situation. Two boys are camping over here. Oh wait, they’re wearing big harmless helmets, and they’re smiling. Never mind, it’s just some ugly guys.”

We headed towards Abbeville, disheartened from no one taking notice of us at the church. Maybe we wanted the fame, or the infamy. Harmless guys wanting to be bad boys.

The ride sucked. WIND. 25 mph head on. We pushed ourselves to crawl. Gusts making us wobble. We tried to tuck ourselves and get low, but our loaded bikes provide a lot of wind resistance. Tucking doesn’t do a whole lot.

As we approached Abbeville, we decided it would be better to end the day early than to battle the wind. So we only made it 20 miles.

We saw a Chinese buffet that was just opening for lunch. $7. It was awesome. We stuffed ourselves until we felt pretty sick. Dessert too. Feeling bloated and the wind roaring outside, it felt good to know we weren’t going anywhere else the rest of the day.

We went to the library to update our blog, plan out the next few days, and look for ways to get down to Central America. Ryan joined findacrew.net and I posted a bunch of ads on couchsurfing.com and craigslist.org (boat hitch-hiking and rideshare).

At 5pm, we left to find a place where we could camp for the night. We had heard fire stations are a good option. We thought they might even let us stay in one of their bunks.

As we approached the fire station, they were folding their hoses on the driveway. Ryan asked. One of them checked with the chief. Yeah sure, I guess you could camp in the small plot of grass behind the station. Then another guy came up and said we should go to the RV park down the road. “I mean, if you need to use the bathroom during the night, I don’t know where you’re going to go.” Mmmm. Not friendly. They didn’t want us.

We went to the RV park and scouted for church grounds along the way. Nothing. Ryan called the RV park and found out there’s no tent camping. Then the lady on the phone said she’d make an exception, $17. Mmmm. Shitty.

The sun was setting as we went back into town to ask the police station. Nope. They turned us away quickly. No help.

A couple of guys were sitting outside a shop. Ryan approached, “Hey do you mind if I ask you guys a question?” What? Is this The Pickup Artist? Is he trying to get a male opinion? Peacocking with his sweaty face and big helmet. They suggested we try to stealth camp behind the gazebo in the square in the middle of town.

We were running out of options. All the churches we saw were closed since it was well after 5pm, and no one was around. As we going back towards the fire station with our tails between our legs, there was a Knights of Columbus (Catholic mens service organization) building next door and people were going inside. We pulled up, and walked in. Confidently, I said, “Hi, we’re long-distance cyclists from Atlanta and we’re ending up in Abbeville for the night. Would we be able to camp outside on the premises?” One of the men nodded immediately. “Sure.” Not bothered at all. Awesome!

As we were setting up outside, two guys, Mason and Jules, came over and asked about our trip. They were cyclists themselves. They were enthusiastic and glad that we had come by. They left and a few minutes later another guy came out, “Hey guys, we’re eating inside and we all want you to come in and eat dinner with us.”

We entered as they were starting their meeting.  About 30 guys, most of them at least in their late 60s.  We had chicken, sausage and cabbage, beans, rice, and bread.  Cajun.

It was a short meeting, and at the end, we were asked to introduce ourselves.  Ryan spoke eloquently as he thanked them for their generosity in giving us food and a place to stay.  As the meeting broke, a lot of the guys came over to wish us luck and ask us questions.  Then the president, Blaine Sauvigney told us that a bunch of the members want to offer us the building for the night, so we don’t have to stay outside in our tents.  Incredible.   The hospitality kept escalating.

The members trickled out and thanked each of them as they left.  Tom and Randy were washing dishes in the kitchen.  As Tom went to the back to lock up, Randy wished us luck, and handed Ryan $20.  We said we couldn’t accept it, and Ryan tried to give it back.  Randy wanted to help us on our way.  After some struggle, Ryan was able to hand it back.  Damn.  We were both floored by that.  It was a sobering experience.  Randy was such a nice guy.

We had a sink shower, rolled our mats and sleeping bags out, and then kicked off our shoes and partied.  Knights of Columbus dance party!