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Swiftly going nowhere... November 4, 2008Leave a comment ;)
Swift Bayou? Can you say oxymoron? Jumbo shrimp, same difference, old news, criminal justice? Hmmm.... Given how fast the bayou was moving (glacial like would be a good descriptor) I think the name is a bit misplaced. If however, you apply the title to my recent venture away from the bike, Swiftly going nowhere is right on the money! The problem with taking a little over week away from the bike is that it seems like the end keeps getting farther away. At least in terms of time, not necessarily distance. Unless we were talking glacial movement again, then that might give me a few more inches to cover in the next millennia... Man, it is nice to be back on the bike! From a psychological perspective that is! From a physical perspective, OUCH! My thighs were burning! What a difference a few days make on the way the body functions. I slammed down a serious amount of water to wash away the lactic acid that was building up over the course of the day. It felt good to pedal an incredibly flat surface. The only hill I climbed all day was the bridge over the Mississippi. My Dad has become my SAG wagon for my ride across the south. Good thing too! He came in very handy today (more on that later). We drove from my home in Guthrie and made it to Winchester, AR where I picked up my bike from Lisa Wilson, Joe Oswald's niece. Thanks so much for keeping it under guard while I was away (though I did see Lynley's eBay ad, but the minimum was not met). In the photo with the bike are Lisa, Laura, Max, Hannah and Jacob. I started my ride from where I left off, the McGehee Best Western. The road was flat as a pancake all the way to the river. Nice sunrise with a layer of fog stretching across highway and the cotton fields. It looked like sheets of cotton weaved across the landscape. The cars acting like cutting shears slicing the fabric pulled taut across the road. I came to the Swift Bayou and chuckled for a about a mile afterward. My mind starts thinking of blog titles whenever I come across something funny. Just prior to the river I stopped in and visited the good folks at the Arkansas Visitor's Center. Dorothy Lucas, Hank Polson and Norma Lowery were very helpful and even gave me a map for Mississippi and good information regarding my soon to be bridge crossing! My Dad and I worked up a plan where he would follow behind me and keep his flashers blinking while I pedaled as fast as I could across the span. From the pictures I hope you can tell there is little room for error and no room for sightseeing! Just off to the south is a beautiful new span that reminds me of the span across the Houston Ship Channel. Unfortunately, I don't think I could have convinced the workers to let me slide past. Given that fact that some of the concrete had not been poured yet, it would have been a trip straight down into the murky depths of the mighty Mississippi! For today's problem, there is a famous author, humorist, etc... whose pen name was taken from a call made by the sailors who sailed the river and measured it's depth. Who is this author and what was the call? Since these questions do not specifically deal with math, tell me how many feet in a fathom. My plan with my Dad didn't quite come to pass the way we had planned because there was no room for him to pull over while I passed him on the ramp to the bridge. Instead, he continued across the bridge to find a place to turnaround, while I made a mad dash during a lull in the traffic. I think this is where my heart rate pegged at 188 bpm and I maintained a 17 mph pace up and over the span. I did take some time to click some photos left, right, back and forward, all the while keeping my eye out for trucks. I was lucky that only one truck came upon me at the top of the bridge and gave me ample room when he passed. I topped out at 26 mph down the backside, but didn't even get a chance to catch a glimpse of the river, given my frantic pace. I did wave at my Dad as he passed me going the opposite direction! So much for our careful planning! I rolled into Greenville, MS after taking my obligatory state line self-portrait. The MS Visitor's Center had some interesting looking catfish adorning the surface of the pond. I'd hate to pull one that looked like that out of the muddy water! The scary thing is, there probably are some that look pretty close! One of the common themes that I have found from state to state is that every road's surface, particularly the shoulder, is different. At one point, depending on the county responsible for it's upkeep, the shoulder was graced with a set of rumble strips right along the white line that edged the road, with soft, green grass further to the right. Cross the county line and voila, the rumble strip is gone, but they have replaced the grass with gravel the size of small boulders. Continue down the road to the next county and someone, in their infinite wisdom, thinks both of the previous counties have it right and then adds the rumble strip right alongside the boulder sized gravel! Obviously, no one in the county transportation department rides a bike. They probably ride an ATV as their family car, so the rumble strip and gravel make perfect sense! For me, however, it was thirty miles of constantly looking over my shoulder, making sure the noise behind me was a car giving me a wide berth. In most cases yes, in some cases, no! When a car or truck appeared to me to be oblivious to my presence, I'd make a quick getaway across the rumble strip and hope my fillings stayed in my head and my wheel didn't get bent. At times I would try to maintain my tires between the strip and the gravel, but the rocks would inevitably narrow the gap and make my small space into an off road adventure! When the road finally relented (city maintained road) I found a wide shoulder, but full of bits and pieces of trash and discarded metal waiting to leap up and bite me. Which it did! Right on the sidewall of the rear tire! A big "c" shaped piece of metal embedded itself squarely in the tire, leaving a hole so big even my slime filled tubes couldn't withstand. Flop, flop, flop... This is where my Dad came in very handy! I was right at the 90-mile mark, the sun was setting in less than an hour and I still had another 7 miles to cover. I took the panniers off the bike, laid the bike on its side and took my rear tire off. Realizing that too little time remained to get the tube patched or replaced and still have time to get through town during daylight, I opted to put the bike in the back of the truck and fix it in the evening. So much for having only one flat after 3300 miles on the bike. Not a bad record! Tomorrow I will head back to where I left off and make my way to Starkville, MS. While I thoroughly enjoyed my time at the AISES (American Indian Science and Engineering Society) National Conference, the time away coupled with my computer problem has forced me to reconsider my remaining stops at Choctaw, Tuskegee and Gainesville. With a little less than two weeks to make it to Cape Canaveral, I have decided to press on to the Cape without stopping at the three remaining schools. I apologize to anyone that was anticipating my appearance, but I have commitments at the Cape that require I be there no later than the weekend of the 15th of November. Again, my sincere apologies! More Images: ;)
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4 Comments
Nov 6, 2008 9:38 am - Lisa Wilson wrote : Hi John! It was so good to see you again. Sorry about the light! I really feel bad about that. We looked but didn't find it. Hope your trip is going well. May the Lord watch over you and keep you safe. You are an inspiration to us all. Will keep track of you! Lisa Wilson , Winchester, AR!!
Nov 5, 2008 4:27 pm - Bill Ward wrote : Sounds like the ride across the Mississippi was a bit scary. Glad you made it thru in one piece. Say hello to Uncle John for us. Your cuz's in Tulsa.
Nov 4, 2008 7:53 pm - Meredith Gebhart wrote : Dear Mr.Herrington, I really like your websight.I hope you take lots of pictures and put them on your websight. Have a great time. Do you cary pepper spray? from Meredith Add a comment: |
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Samuel Clemens, aka Mark Twain. In the marine world, water depth is measured in fathoms. 1 fathom is 6 feet. The riverboats needed water that was at least 12 feet deep, or 2 fathoms. A 30-foot-long line was attached to a piece of lead. This is called a 'leadline'. The line had measurement markings woven into the strands. The leadsman is the person who "heaves the lead" and "sings the mark". The leadsman would scream out, "By the mark, twain!". "Twain" means 2, so 2 fathoms and good sailing. They would also say "mark ta-ree" and "mark four". Doing well, John, and almost done! Your next tour could be through the Himalayas.