My alarm went off at 7 am. We cooked up the 8 eggs left over from brownies the night before. Tonya and Kasey had to get to Vicksburg, and we were taking a long time packing up and heading off. We were really lucky that they stopped and offered us a place to stay. Great people, really generous, and for the first time, I considered doing the Peace Corps. My options are wide open. I don’t have anything waiting for me when I return from this trip. Maybe two years volunteering for the Peace Corps would be cool.

We headed off through downtown Jackson. Pretty small town. Ryan was complaining that he was getting sick. Pussy. A few miles outside of Jackson, we stopped at a Walmart to get supplies since we were heading into Mississippi back-country. Bagels, Cadbury Mini Eggs, powdered drink packets, peanut butter.

Google walking directions told us to get off the highway and take some back-road shortcuts. Take a left onto Hancock. Dirt road. Gravel. Damn, this is familiar. We considered turning back to the highway, but maybe the next turn in 0.5 miles will be paved. Left onto Country Club Road. Dirt. Gravel. Dogs running after us. Potholes. I was surprised we didn’t get a flat. Horrible steep hills. Mississippi was so flat for so long, but when we took this shortcut, it turned into North Georgia.

We finally got on some paved road. For about a mile. Then it turned into dirt again. Shit. This time there was a flood. It was a mini-river crossing. I thought of Oregon Trail. I would have caulked the wagon to float across. I didn’t know how to do that in real life, so we got off our bikes and walked across.

A few more miles of dirt road. We probably only shaved off a mile in distance taking this shortcut instead of taking the main highway. Definitely not worth it. We lost a lot of time and energy on hills, gravel, and dirt. Then we hit flat, smooth road with a little shoulder on MS-27 South. The wind was at our backs. We did a few hours of about 18 mph. It felt great.

Ryan got hungry and the tendon behind his left knee started hurting. We pulled into Monticello, MS and each got a $1 pack of cookies at Dollar General.

We had gone 60 miles and were shooting for 75 miles to split the 150 miles to Mandeville, LA over two days. We didn’t want to stop, and have to do 90 miles the next day.

It was getting late in the day, so we started looking for good stealth camping spots off the road. Lots of “No Trespassing” signs. Ryan was breaking down, although he was trying to hang in there for our 75 miles.

We passed a house and waved the family. They waved back. Friendly. Good sign. We decided to turn around to see if we could get them to be kind to us. A man, a mother, and her kids. We asked if they knew of a spot where we could pitch a tent. They told us we should turn back to Monticello. No way. Then the mom got on the phone to her husband.

Mom: “Hey, there’s two guys here cycling cross country. Do you know a place around here where they could camp?
Dad on the phone.
Mom: “The kids are in the front.”

Two cyclists. Shit, where are the kids? Watch out for those harmless, friendly, egg-helmet-headed guys. They might kidnap our kids. Strap the kids on our racks and bolt out of there at 13 mph.

We were hoping they’d offer us a place on their lawn. I guess our egg-heads and bike shorts posed too much of a threat. They pointed us up the road to the Topeka school. We could possibly camp in the woods on the school property, and get out of there at 6 am before the teachers showed up. It didn’t sound great.

Up a few miles, we passed a Methodist church. Maybe a Christian will have pity on us. We knocked on the door, and the Pastor, Ledon Dawson came out. He didn’t see a problem with us camping on the premises. He pointed us towards the wooded area, and gave us permission to use the water spigot on the side of the building. Cool guy. Hands off and helpful. Carte blanche.

We set up camp on a level spot. I got in my tent and washed up with a Wet Ones, and changed clothes. Ryan hung out by the water spigot and gave himself a seemingly pretty thorough sponge bath. Naked guy sprawled out at the side of the building by the air conditioners.

We cooked mac and cheese and instant potatoes, and made it back to our tents just as it got dark. It felt like it was going to be a cold night so I put on my jeans, long-sleeve shirt, socks, and balaclava. I read some of My Side of the Mountain and went to bed. It was a good night.

morning dread

I had a good night’s sleep in a bed. Dreams about dancing with guys in a nightclub except for one portion of the night. I usually wake up every few hours to pee. I can not sleep with anything in my bladder. Young cyclist with a 90 year old peeing problem. Really sad and annoying. I woke up in the middle of the night with my bladder full of Guinness and a car bomb. I went for the door, but I could not open it. The door knob was stuck. I did everything I could to open the door, but I failed over and over. I struggled with the door knob for 30 minutes. I took out my tools and tried to get the latch to move, but it would not budge. I contemplated peeing in my water bottle and worrying about it in the morning. I finally did some stupid jiggle on the door knob and it magically opened. Some stupid movement that defied physics and corrected the problem.

I woke up dreading the ride from Jackson to the middle of nowhere, Mississippi. We were shooting for Monticello 75 miles away, halfway between Jackson and Mandeville, LA. It was probably going to be a long, boring ride. The other thing I was dreading was fixing my rear disc brake. Ever since the Kosciusko ride in the rain, I had no rear brake.

I tried fixing my brakes in Don and Becky’s driveway but I came up with no solution. We said our goodbyes to Becky and Little River and headed off to pick up Eoin’s rain jacket from Debra.

angry boys and pizza smiles

Eoin got his rain jacket from Debra. He was happy. I failed at fixing my disc brakes again in a gas station parking lot. I was unhappy, frustrated, and angry at my stupid brakes. I was grumbling as we waited for Sal and Mookie’s to open. We had told Linden the previous night that we would eat there, as long as he would service us with pizza, a smile, and a dance circle.

We sat down and Linden came over with a big smile. Happy guy. Eoin had mentioned that we were getting a late start, and I was having problems with my disc brakes. The disc brakes were really bothering me. I didn’t know what the hell the problem was. Eoin asked me if I wanted to go down to the hardware store while he waited on the pizza to come out. No. Not really. I wanted to sit down and enjoy being in a restaurant. I felt like Eoin was inconvenienced by the disc brakes, and I told him not to stress about the time of the day. He blew up. I blew up. The pizza came. Two angry guys eating their pizza in silence. We avoided eye contact. Staring at the walls and the Parmesan cheese container. Anything but eye contact. Disc brakes and Eoin had me fuming. The pepperonis had a hard time getting past the lump in my throat. Angry, ugly guys in bike clothing pouting over something stupid at Sal & Mookies. A huge pizza ball in my stomach was festering in the anger. It would not be a good ride today.

Finally, Linden came over and let us know he had spoken with his manager, Andrew. Andrew’s brother had toured across Europe, and Andrew wanted to comp our meal. On the house. He also gave us desserts. Miraculous timing. This was the best cure for two angry ugly guys feuding over stupid shit who happened to also be two ugly frugal guys. The $30 check would have only escalated our tantrums.

Damn. Andrew and Linden were our angels. Two beautiful angelic men. We wanted to dance with them in a dance circle. Maybe we should get Sal & Mookies bike jerseys. Two ugly guys in sponsored bike jerseys.

I feel obliged to do some viral marketing for Sal & Mookies. It’s the greatest pizza in Jackson, MS. You should probably eat there. Mmm. Do it and eat pizza there. Ask for Linden. He has a great smile.

Hardware store parking lot

I had renewed hope for fixing my disc brakes. I figured out that the rotor was greasy and simply slipping through the pads. We went to the hardware store, and I tried degreasing them. Cleaning and failure. Cleaning and failure. I tried another solution a hardware store employee gave. Renewed hope. Failure again. It was nearly 1:30 pm, and here I was sitting on the asphalt of a hot parking lot trying to fix my brakes. Renewed hope quickly turned into renewed anger.

Some guy parked next to us and spoke to Eoin about the load we were carrying. He asked him why our bags were so big and mentioned that he could go lighter. He was showing off in front of his two little kids. Macho fat guy in his truck. Who the hell are you? What would you not take? Water? Food? Tent? Would your fat ass stay at a hotel every night and eat at restaurants every few hours? I was fortunate enough to have my anger focused on my brakes. Eoin took care of him.

A couple pulled up near us. I immediately noticed the rack on the top of their car. They also had a bumper sticker that said ‘Share the Road’. Good. They won’t give us shit about our load. They came over and took immediate interest in our trip. They offered us a place to stay that night. Damn. Nice couple. Kasey and Tonya. Another God send. They probably saw us and took pity on us. That’s the good thing about traveling on bicycles. You get a lot of pity. Two stray kittens on bicycles.

the bike rack

I gave in. We went to the local bike shop. I walked my bike to the back and got a great mechanic named Colin. Very knowledgeable. All that was running through my head was cost. How much does this cost? How much does that cost? He was probably annoyed by me. A cheap pitiful guy sitting in the bike watching him work. Anything but cool.

I’ve been taken by car mechanics. I couldn’t help it. The problem ended up being a contaminated rotor that had simply gone bad. I would not have been able to fix it without replacing the part. Colin gave me a bigger rotor and a few spare parts.

Meanwhile, people were walking by our bikes and gear and taking a lot of interest in our trip. Mainly our bikes. We might have given the bike shop a few orders of touring bikes. The bike shop ended up giving me a great deal.

Colin and the bike shop helped me out big time. No labor charge. I wonder if they took pity on me. Taking into account my own frugality, the cost was still hard to swallow, but it was much easier to swallow knowing I had fixed brakes. It was now off my mind.

Kasey and Tonya

We got the OK from Kasey and Tonya to crash at their place for the night, so we headed to their place. We spoke to them for a few hours about their travels. Both of them had spent two years in Africa in the Peace Corp. They told us about living in mud huts with no utilities. Living on the barebones minimum. This trip has made me recognize the many luxuries we have here, but living in Africa was an entirely different ballgame. At least we had transportation and access to running water every other day, if not every day. Their stories were motivating. Being a down day for me, it was just what I needed. Quit being such a little angry guy about meaningless things. I had successfully swallowed the bike costs.

We baked up our specialty that night: brownies. Kasey and Tonya ate a few. We ate a lot. Disgusting stomach full of brownies. After some movies, we went to bed. Eoin beat me in a game of rock, paper, scissors for the couch. I really let him win. I wanted to do something nice for him. I threw the game of chance for a chance at friendship. I took the floor. I was grateful we had a roof that night. Great company too.

We left Donna and Piccolar in Kosciusko. They were great to us. It was hard leaving.

Our experience on the Natchez Trace parkway can be described in one word: boring. Trees lining both sides, endless road, no turns, nothing to see.

We saw a bunch of turtles though. The most interesting part of the day was also heartbreaking. We found a turtle with a cracked shell. It was still alive, but the shell was broken into multiple pieces. I could see the guts inside held together by a thin membrane. We wondered whether we should kill it or let nature take its course. I don’t think I could bring myself to kill it. Poor turtle. Ryan wondered if we could tape it’s shell back together. We felt powerless. Ryan picked it up and moved it down by the creek.

Boring. Bored. Conversation sucked and bored me. An annoying one came to life; hello Bryan.

Bryan: “Hey it looks like it’s going to rain.”
Eoin: “Yeah, looks like it.”
Bryan: “Grey clouds ahead. You think it’s going to rain?”
Eoin: Bored. Silent.
Bryan: “Look at the sky. Looks like it’ll rain.”
Eoin: Silent. Annoyed.
Bryan: “Hey!”

Shut up, Bryan.

Bryan: “If trees had ears, what would they say?”

We got into Jackson during Friday rush hour. Not bad though. No fiery encounter like in Birmingham.

Ryan had contacted and setup a stay with Don Potts and his family through WarmShowers.org. Don’s wife, Becky, and son, Linden, greeted us. We found out they are a pretty unique family. Don and Becky are vegans, and helped to start the natural grocery co-op in Fondren. They lived in a vertical log cabin for 10 years without running water or electricity, and gave birth to Linden standing up and with only flashlights for light. Becky’s garden had vegetables, bottle trees, and a miniature horse named Little River.

Becky prepared an awesome vegan dinner and we had vegan rice dream ice cream for dessert.

Donna from Kosciusko called and told me I left my rain jacket at her place. Dammit! Crucial rain jacket. But it was quickly resolved. Donna’s friend, Debra, was coming to Jackson the next morning. We arranged a meeting.

Linden brought us out on the town. Ryan and I wanted to dance at the 18 and up club. Three guys noodling around in a circle. Beer in hand. Swinging hips, loose arms. Grinding. Linden didn’t seem interested.

He brought us to Sal and Hal’s. Cool place charged for parking. Linden refused. He parked in front of a dumpster instead. Then we found out there was a cover. We walked away. “If there’s two things I don’t do, it’s paying for parking and paying covers.” We liked Linden. Even if he didn’t want to noodle and grind.

He took us to Fenian’s Irish pub instead. Good guy, he got us Irish car bombs. We had a good time getting drunk and fooling around.

We got back home and then it started pouring. Lucky we were inside, not camping.

the Mennonite bakery

I woke up at 5:55 AM.  My alarm was set for 6:00 AM.  I wanted to get out of the Food Center before the food delivery came.  I didn’t want to disappoint the mayor.  I wanted to be perfect.  I looked outside.  Dark clouds and rain.  Whatever.  I was still on a high from the previous night.  I had a full night’s sleep indoors.  That in itself was a God send. 

The previous evening all we heard about was the bakery by the highway.  It was the thing to go to in Brooksville.  We had told everyone we were going to check it out in the morning.  I would have felt guilty if we had not.  We saw Robert, a Morgan Freeman look-a-like, and he once again emphasized we had to check out the bakery.  Off we went.

The bakery was incredible.  Mennonite women in a cooking frenzy at 6 AM.  They were like well oiled machines.  I imagined them on a tour, beating the shit out of me in endurance.  Their one piece dresses flapping in my face as they easily cycled past me.  All of them laughing at me. 

Everything was about $1.  Incredible.  I can still smell the iced cinnamon rolls and cinnamon twist donuts. 

We spoke to some of the locals in the bakery.  They spoke to us about our trip and expressed concern about us being on bicycles in the weather.  They told us about a man in a wagon from Pennsylvania who got hit by a car.  One of the three horses that were pulling his wagon got killed.  This was about the 5th time I had heard the story.  This was a weird way to tell cyclists to be cautious on the road, since we weren’t on a wagon or being pulled by horses. 

Some old fat asshole came into the bakery and started complaining to some of the old locals about our bicycles being out on the awning.

“Those bicycles are parked right in front of the door.  I had to step out in the dang rain just to go around them,”  said the old fat lazy guy.

Our bicycles were out of the way, and it was drizzling at that time.  This guy just wanted something to cry about.  None of the others hopped onto his crybaby bus because they had warmed up to us.  He was alone.  A big fat baby.  Alone with his cinnamon twists. 

I checked my phone.  I had a text message from Donna asking if we were OK in the rain.  Donna and Gary, a cycling couple, were going to host us while in Kosciusko.  Wow.  More positive energy.  A text expressing concern over our safety.  Awesome.

shit

We took off from the bakery.  I was on a huge sugar rush.  I was feeling great.  For the next 12 miles, I was happy.  It started to pour, but it was enjoyable.  We were surrounded by cat fish farms and horses.

And then it happened.  Google maps with walking directions took a huge shit on us.  We turned onto a road that was complete mud and rock.  Our tires were spinning.  Grit was in the gearing.  We could not steer straight.  Half of our energy was used battling the lack of friction.  Potholes everywhere.  I was sure at least one of us was going to get a flat.  I have to keep positive.  At least it was just drizzling.

And then it poured.  This wasn’t rain.  This was a hell child of a monsoon.  I looked at my GPS.  12 more miles.  Impossible.  1 mile felt like 10 miles.  I imagined the Mennonite women pedaling past me, laughing.  We were cursing Google maps out loud.  I could hear Eoin behind me cursing.  “Bullshit backroads,” he kept saying. 

We finally turned onto a semi-paved road.  Less than one mile later, we had to turn back onto the same crap.  What the hell?  Why?  Why half a mile of paved road in between mud?  How did that make sense?  Google maps was playing games with my heart.  A huge tease of walking directions.  Bullshit backroads.

The final stretch was a hill.  A mountain of mud.  I had to get off the bike about 10 feet and walk it because I was just spinning.  I could not even catch my breath to curse Google maps.  Singleton Road.  If you ever cycle west of Brooksville, avoid Singleton Road.  And don’t use Google maps. 

Louisville

We finally get to the next town.  3 hours to do 30 miles.  I was dead.  I felt like I had done 50.  We wanted to treat ourselves to a nice lunch.  I wanted sweet tea.  A local recommended Harrington’s.  We ride down the road looking for a restaurant and see a building that said ”William Harrington’s Recreation Center”.  Sandwiches on a basketball court.  We didn’t know what to expect.

We walk up to the sidewalk.  The first thing I see are about 10 old black guys by the windows hanging out.  Great.  I immediately think about the dialogue they’re having inside.  “Look at those two scrawny, gay white boys out there.  White people are crazy.”  I think my assumptions were pretty accurate.  We walked in, and they scoped us out.  We walked past the pool tables to look at the menu and ordered our food.  Everyone was scoping us out.  I was scoping out the sweet tea.

In this shot, notice the guy giving me an evil stare.  I was trying to pull off a stealth picture.  I didn’t want to pull out a flashy techno-boy camera.  The flash went off.  He wasn’t happy.

We sat down to eat.  One by one, the old-timers came over and spoke to us.  They had walked out and inspected our bicycles.  I felt like I was on exhibit.  A bearded fat lady in the circus.  A skinny white ugly boy on a bike.  A wax statue.  They asked us about our trip.  We made them laugh, and they slowly warmed up to us.  Very positive.  A bunch of retired military men shooting the shit in the local soul food restaurant. 

Eoin shot a game of pool with a guy that called himself Voc.  I think Eoin got taken by a pool shark, who was preying on ugly white kids.  Afterwards, Voc walked over to me and said, “What do they call you?”  I guess I should have given him a cool name.  He had one.  His name was Voc.  He told me, “My daddy was Italian but don’t tell nobody.”  I wasn’t really sure what that meant.  I wouldn’t be ashamed of an Italian father.

We headed off to Kosciusko to meet up with Gary and Donna. 

an amazing welcome in kosciusko

We ride a good 35 miles on some highways to Kosciuzko.  The highway was good to us.  Relatively low traffic and gentle hills.  No rain.  It was a good sign.

A few miles from town I decide to call up Donna.  I finally have a signal.  As soon as she picks up, she says, “I’m looking straight at ya.”  Huh?  I was confused. 

There she was in her white suburban.  She was concerned about us being on one of the busy highways.  Man.  The positive energy seeped from her veins.  You could feel it.  An incredible maternal welcome to town.  She asked us what we liked for dinner.  She was going to cook for us.  I peed myself.  Lady Luck was a lady tonight.  She took off and we continued to her house.

We saw a stupid cow statue on the way to her neighborhood. 

When we pulled into her neighborhood, she was waiting at the front of the neighborhood in the car.  She followed us to her house.  Beautiful home.  Beautiful backyard.  It was an incredibly warm welcome.  Warm showers, washing machines, and beds.  Beautiful. 

Later that evening, Donna fixed up some incredible shrimp stir fry over the fire pit.  Gary offered us some beer.  I hadn’t had a beer for a while.  It was electrifying.  Stupid description.  It was good. 

During dinner, they told us about all the unique travelers they’ve hosted.  All of these cool people with cooler stories than us.  One girl was from Germany and she cycled from the Cape of Good Hope, the southernmost tip in South America, to the Pacific northwest.  She then drove to Alaska.  She did it alone.  Without a helmet.

She told us of a 17 year old girl cycling across America with her brother. 

Damn.  I felt like an ant.  I wanted to be that fat bearded lady in Harrington’s again.  Look at me.  I’m unique.  Look at me.

The dinner was amazing.  Gary and Donna were amazing people.  The warmth and positivity created an aura of goodness around them, and you couldn’t help but be taken aback by it.  They were selfless.

Amazing.  Incredible.

Donna and Gary had offered us to stay another night.  Donna said there were going to be huge storms the next day.  Hurricanes.  Monsoons.  Earthquakes.  She wanted us to stay.  We looked on weather.com.  Clear skies.  A beautiful day.

I awoke to dishes and kitchen noises.  I loved it.  The sounds of a home.  We decided to stay another night.  Donna made us sausage, egg, and cheese sandwiches.  I need to have “Amazing” and “Incredible” shortcut keys on this keyboard.  Amazing.  Incredible. 

We hung out for the day.  Gary was at work and Donna was running around.  From the previous day, Eoin’s phone had gotten destroyed by the rain.  He rode to AT&T to see if they would give him a free phone, but he failed.  He came back, defeated.  His frugality threatened his happiness.  Donna’s maternal instincts picked up on it instantly, and she went to her room to dig up an old, unused phone.  She gave it to him.  Amazing.  Incredible.

I did some bike maintenance.  When Gary got home from work, he helped me out with some cleanup.  Tired from work, he did not hesitate to give me a hand with the bike.  Amazing.  Incredible. 

We went to a local BBQ place for dinner.  Donna got a huge rack of ribs. 

In the back of her mind, I could tell she was unsatisfied.  She craved Mexican.  I recognized Ashley’s look in her face.  Eoin and I were happy to eat some of her ribs.

After dinner, Gary took us by the practice he works at.  He gave Eoin a Hepatitis A booster on the house.  Selfless, caring, and good people.  It was inspiring.  They showed us around Kosciuzko.  It’s a beautiful little town at night. 

That evening, Gary gave us some homemade pie that one of his patients gave him.  Everything in the pie was from scratch. 

“Give, and it shall be given unto you.”

“It is more blessed to give, than to receive.”

Those two excerpts summarized Gary and Donna.