Blog 4/12/10 Zowee!

Quite a day today,  far different than we had planned,  even tho our plans were pretty loose.

I called the city clerk for Melville, the town by the ferry we weren't sure was working.   She said the ferry was fixed,  but only ran from four to nine pm.   Since it was only a fifty mile ride to get there,  it looked like an easy day--until we learned the first eight miles on the other side aren't paved! We thought long and hard about trying it anyway, but finally decided that out running dogs would be tough on dirt.

So we set out on the 35 mile trip north to the closest bridge over the Atchafalaya River at Simmesport.  Since we had seventy miles in by then and it's more than forty more to the next motels in St Francisville, we decided to hole up in the only motel in Simmesport,  along with another couple we happened upon outside town.   The motel was a strange looking place,  also housing a pizza joint and a U-Haul franchise.  We checked in,  but shortly thereafter we checked back out.   To say that neither AAA nor Good Houskeeping would bestow their seal of approval on the place is a bit of an understatement.   For sure the cockroaches and several other species, of bugs DID approve.   Our options were limited,  and so was the daylight.   We time-trialed as best as two seriously overtrained tourists with forty plus pound bikes could the forty miles to St Francisville,  where we got to take a real ferry ride across the Mississippi.

We got to see a lovely sunset over the river,  and what little we saw of the town looks stunningly beautiful.   We will explore tomorrow,  but by the time we found a motel it was pitch black and we were two nervous, cranky cyclists.   No restaurants nearby,  so we talked the hostess into letting us raid the breakfast bar early.

We rode 114 miles,  starting at 8:00 am and ending at 8:00 pm.   But there was so much time wasted along the way that we still averaged close to 17 mph even with our now-dependable headwind.

A couple of parting thoughts today about dogs--occasioned by the fact that we have been chased by more dogs in about 300 miles of Louisiana than the rest of the trip combined.  There's one rule that never fails--only houses that appear to have nothing much worth protecting house dogs that chase.  The more squalid the place,  the scarier the dog.   Some big dogs keep little dogs around whose job it is to alert the sleeping, big,  scary dog of our approach in time for Thor to regain consciousness and give chase.   Over the years it is perfectly clear that the deep south--that is,  the southeast US,  is by far the worst for dogs.   At least we get a little sprinting practice,  and in this part of the world,  no hills pop up to slow us down and make us easy pickings for Fido.

Very satisfying to get across the Mississippi today,  an epic ride with some great roads and beautiful scenery,  but this particular ride still has a few bugs to get worked out of it.

Doug