To the House of the Rising Sun

This Morning we are leaving from Long Beach, MS to complete the last leg of our journey into the city of New Orleans. Our last ride is about 70 miles and 5.5 hours and we hope to arrive at Audobon Park in the early afternoon where we will be greeted by Ride to Heal and Catholic Charities. Our posts and the updating of the blog has been sparse but we promise to fill in some gaps after we have arrived at our destination. We want to thank whole-heartedly everyone who helped to make this trip possible and successful, namely Raul Cotilla and Tom Monks of Ride to Heal, Mr. Michael McCarthy who helped us generously with lodging throughout the ride, everyone who donated money to the cause, ultimately creating the purpose for the ride at all, and all of our friends and family who supported us. Its been awesome, difficult and tiring at times, but all-in-all a fun and rewarding experience. We can't wait to see you all again and relate all of our stories and (mis)adventures to you. In the meantime, here are some more pictures...

                                            At the Home of Bob and Marie in Alpharetta, GA

                                   Ice Cream in Good Water, AL after a grueling day of mountains

                                                                  The road goes on forever
  Some Dusty Trails

                                                            Alabama adornments

                                                           Rough roads into Mississippi

                                                                Po-Boys in Biloxi, MS

                                                           First sight of the Gulf, Gulfport, MS

Images

                                        Riding Towards Richmond, VA

                                             Forging the River

                                      Camping at Occoneechee State Park, VA

                                              Hartwell Lake, GA

The Greeting Commitee

Much has happened since our last post. I will do my best to provide an action-packed, succinct synopsis.
Dogs love bikes. It must be the instinctual chase mechanism, but goddamn if every unleashed dog on the road didnt have a go at us when we rode by. As Don tends to ride in front with the navigational equipment, he tends to get the most enthusiastic reaction as they realize our presence. The little ones we can scoff at all we want, but the rottweilers and pitbulls tend to really give the heart a good jumpstart as they lunge and drool after you. Most surprising is when they lay in ambush and as soon as you think youve passed him and grin to yourself triumphantly, another canine missile comes launching out of a bush or brush. One section of road in southern North Carolina had a record 11 dogs that were free to chase us to their hearts content... as we struggled uphill. Dog Alley.
But we always managed to scrape by, the adrenaline jolting our worn muscles just enough to get us out of dodge. Our most formidable encounter came early in the morning as me and Don passed a small Ranch House in rural somewhere. We saw him before he saw us; we had the upper hand. He seemed distracte as he patrolled around the house and was lost for a moment. We tried to be as quiet as possible as to not awaken his killer instinct, but that really doesn't work at all, this is a matter of sight. So, we tried to creep along until Don mumbles "there he goes," and out from behind a corner of the house comes a sprite, jet black, glossy and purely terrifying Dobermein Pincher. He was a sight to see at full stride in the light of dawn, quite pretty really until we realized he wanted to kill us. Just as our fates were sealed with hours in an emergency room, gurneys, tourniquets, sawed off limbs, the whole scene flashed before my eyes... he pulled away. Apparently we may have appeared wounded or sickly, or just not enough fun. We didn't really consider why, but we got away fully intact. Dogs are our personal greeting comittee to whatever inocuous stretch of road we may be pedaling down. Cute, but we wish they wouldn't.

The Great Vehicle

I will elaborate on our journey from Fredericksburg in a later post, our time in Huntersville, NC is short. We have forged rivers, fought off insects, and passed through Dog Alley. Richmond was a swell town where we were hosted by the lovely Ms. Angelica and fed the big brother of a sub sandwhich, the battleship. The next few days we rode over 100 miles each day. Watts, owner of Revolution Cycles in Greensboro, NC, single handedly resurrected Dans bike, and we even got to see a boat race/show in Clarksville VA, just outside of Occoneechee State Park, our first real night of camping. Eliza and co. hosted us in Greensboro. Imagine. More to come...

The Map

For those interested in a more visual interpretation of our route, I've attached the google.maps link that shows each stop between New York and New Orleans.
http://maps.google.com/maps?f=d&source=s_d&saddr=Williamsburg,+New+York,+NY&daddr=Philadelphia,+PA+to:Conowingo,+MD+to:Washington,+DC+to:Fredericksburg,+VA+to:Richmond,+VA+to:Clarksville,+VA+to:Greensboro,+NC+to:Huntersville,+NC+to:Spartanburg,+SC+to:Anderson,+SC+to:Athens,+GA+to:Alpharetta,+GA+to:Heflin,+AL+to:Sylacauga,+AL+to:Selma,+AL+to:Jackson,+AL+to:Lucedale,+MS+to:Bay+St+Louis,+MS+to:823+St.+Charles+Avenue,+New+Orleans,+LA&hl=en&geocode=FY4hbQIdsI6X-ylBKsEG_VvCiTFs18UcKfJ5gg%3BFc-fYQIdcxeF-ynrS7XU2LfGiTHBWD6M2BT1iQ%3BFb1vXQIdced1-yk1XRdd2cjHiTG6XhwtrYqCjw%3BFQh-UQIdsoRo-ylb5PZa3sa3iTEqXYjUIkVSwg%3BFdB1SAIdxAti-ykl4Oq668G2iTGhkaYhCkWmfw%3BFUPcPAIdXOph-yntyZlXCRGxiTHFPELibT7Yvw%3BFZ7WLgId71BR-ylLR-JGf4StiTF1QOPx-haozA%3BFbtsJgIdmXg--yl5e8c4PxlTiDHIEr54lMS5kw%3BFQZTHAIdnm8u-ykJl5jiFR5UiDEBW5nCBomkFQ%3BFb9JFQId8NAd-ykLRpemGZ5XiDHJftrKOCiLWw%3BFQ97DgId69sS-yn7vnyaJmxYiDHfCm5WE_3FBw%3BFdofBgIdoq8H-ym5M7S0GW32iDF8YZ3WAnJ0TQ%3BFfDyBwIdNsb5-ik39cVon3T1iDFOTGUoYdUSwQ%3BFWNxAQId_gnm-im_lIKZuwCLiDGlcVZ8KdPCrA%3BFbQu-gEdh-fb-inhcyBd8leJiDGwS7BcR50BBw%3BFT9_7gEd0ynQ-imn0_fK0AWPiDHzr_73f2EdOQ%3BFTzK4AEdVNbC-inP3Z8TdsmaiDEIPYZcgI44HA%3BFYPh1wEdODm4-im7aG0aTXabiDH_R8CVaxK0JA%3BFS5szgEdtuGs-ikTxNicyy2ciDEsNXwwQ4dD7Q%3BFSXuyAEdyZyh-im_BNMpdKYghjF2gei4VSDYxQ&mra=ltm&dirflg=b&sll=36.668419,-77.849121&sspn=7.311063,14.040527&ie=UTF8&z=5

bON vOYAGE AND vOYAGE

From Williamsburg, Brooklyn, the Empire State building gleemed as we gathered with friends and family before pedaling off on our long and dusty journey. Without even giving our goodbyes we had already encountered two flats in mine and Dans bikes. An ominous start to our first day that eventually ended famously at the home of our friend Callie Levre in the Society Hill district of Philadelphia, PA. We had ridden the 80-some miles under a gray blanket of clouds and occassional shower of rain, but our spirits were high and in full excitement.

The added weight of the luggage being carried on our bikes was felt forcefully the following morning as we mustered ourselves to depart for Susquehana State Park in Havre de Grace, MD. Again the weather was rather dismal but the strain in our legs kept weather-related woes at bay for the time being. The terrain began flat and meandering and wound up hilly and all-over-the damn-place. Rural areas of Maryland are very pretty but you gain an adversarial mentality to the "rolling" quality of the hills as the reak havoc on your legs. As we neared the end of the day we discovered that the park was closed to camping for the season but were fortunately met by a local named Lyle who generously offered us shelter at his house up the road. Lyle lived in a log-cabin mansion on almost 75 acres of land replete with livestock, a three-legged dog, barn, pool and hottub. At the time, I thought he might have saved our lives.

After Lyle and his wife Donna had cleaned, housed and fed us, we were off again in search of the nations capital, an intimidating 85 miles away. The day was mostly uneventful, save the rain in the morning and another flat outside of Baltimore. We arrived at our friend Tim Ethier's apartment at around 5pm, proceeded to help him move in some furniture and then walk to a local Superfresh where we bought an American Hero (Ham, Turkey, Roastbeef, the works) of epic proportions and passed out on Timmys floor, sore again.

Up until this point I had been operating under the optimistic prospect of my father that instead of spiraling into a catclysmic death spiral where I would have to hang my head and bike and go home from the pain in my legs, I would in fact become stronger. Lo and behold, the wisdom of our elders. Riding from DC to Fredericksburg, though through the rain and cold, actually turned out to be the easiest day yet. Over 80 miles, stopping seldomly, we felt comparitively great upon our arrival. The rain and wind and flooding forecasted for the next day stopped us in our tracks, unfortunately, and that is where we remained today, at the hotel, biding our time in prospect of better skies and trails south, to Richmond and on...