There's no cozier sound...

Than rain falling on your tent-- as long as your tent isn't leaking.

It rained for most of the day, and I truly enjoyed it from my snug little nest. The thunder was vociferous and non-threatening. The mugginess was muggy. I spent much of the day reading from John Steinbeck's travelogue "Travels with Charley in Search of America," which my stepmom gave me, and I have been attempting to read for the last three months or so. It's not that large of a book, and I should have been through it quite quickly, but as a general rule, I am not a travelogue reader, so despite his apt descriptions and skill with metaphor, it hadn't really gripped me yet. Today, it is finally working for me. I think the laziness of a day off on the road lends itself well to his writing style. It's odd, but his general attitude makes reading the book feel a bit like I am talking to a more literary version of myself.

I found my new favorite sentence: "Montana seems to me to be what a small boy would think Texas is like from hearing Texans."

What's that smoky, burny smell?

Is that an ash in my food?

Last night the toilet paper in the crusty ladies room ran out after the office closed, and it hadn't been replaced by the time I left. I vented my spleen at the poor guy working the desk, which didn't get me any money back, but at least my complaint was heard. And probably ignored.

I rode off into another beautiful sunny windy day, which was fortunately a crosswind most of the day. Not the tailwind I had hoped for, but better than a headwind. Around mid-afternoon I reached the lovely Airey Lake Camp, which is free of charge, courtesy of the USFS. Thank you! It's nice to see my tax dollars come back to me. I have realized that, with a few outliers, my love of a campsite is inversely proportional to the price I pay to stay in it. Anywho, this place has everything I need: a dry little flat-topped hill on which to set my tent without fear of flooding, a pump with nice clean water, and a sturdy little brick toilethouse where I may end up weathering tomorrow's storms. The prediction is not good, so I figured I may as well hole up in the free campground and take a day off. No reason to push myself too hard too soon (in yucky weather!), since I'm kinda starting off cold again.

I got here early enough in the day to clean some stuff and make a nice dinner. For a little while I was smelling smoke, but a call to the fire people informed me that there is a prescribed burn a ways downwind of me, so everything is cool. The call also informed me that my meager cell reception here may be just barely good enough for slow internet, but talking is pretty much right out.

I... love it?

On Saturday my uthah muthah had a book signing in Mobile, AL, so I hitched a ride in order to avoid a week of navigating Alabama. I've decided I'm no longer in any mood for route planning; I just want to ride. I've purchased the Adventure Cycling Southern Tier maps-- yes, the ones I poo-pooed back in Montana, where there was only one road and no navigation required-- and the route happens to run right through Mobile. Sadly, I didn't get a chance to meet Chris's brother in Birmingham or Beth's mom in the panhandle, but happily, I didn't have to ride my bike anywhere near Birmingham.

We spent the night in a hotel in Mobile (a little send off gift to myself), and this morning I took off riding west. It was a beautiful sunny day, with not a cloud in the sky, which is a relief after the stormy weather that has been happening. The only fly in my ointment was the brutal headwind. Welcome back to the road, Cheri. A kindly gentleman stopped me just before I reached the Mississippi border to warn me that the road was flooded ahead with water about a foot deep. After consulting a map, I decided that fording a river four times barefoot carrying everything I owned would be easier than a detour, so I went on. Besides, every other vehicle that passed was a pickup, and people love a damsel in distress, so I figured I wouldn't get wet.

When I reached the flooded spot, it was every bit as bad as the man had said. I assessed the situation, then began removing my shoes and socks. Just then, a kindly couple in a big shiny pickup stopped and offered me a ride. Yay!

Everyone else I talked to all day was very friendly, and when I stopped to phone a friend, I found myself babbling about how great it was to be on the road again, and how most people are inherently good, and how you get back what you put out there, and how people are so nice to touring cyclists, and how the karmic gratification when I'm on the road is pretty much instantaneous.

In my final mile of the day, a chihuahua and a... I dunno, let's say a terrier chased me. I had my eye on the chihuahua, and I felt my back tire run over something. It wasn't enough of a bump to be the whole dog, so it must have been his foot or something. He stopped chasing me. Maybe that'll teach him. This time, I didn't even stop. It's so much easier when you don't actually see their head go under you tire.

Finally, I reached the campground that had a sign out front that said "RVs and primitive camping." The guy had the nerve to charge me an arm and a leg, and explained that all of the sites were the same, with power hook-ups and whatnot, so it was all the same price. I asked about the primitive camping and he just shook his head. I suspect he saw a rich cycling yankee coming and decided to screw me. I didn't have any other option, as everything is far too flooded to even consider stealth camping, and I was too tired of fighting the headwind to ride further. This place is such a friggin' pit. It is full of trashy trailer people who largely seem to be living here on a near permanent basis. The bathroom is a dank hole, and the cleaner shower stall was in that condition because it was missing a door lock. The water was hot, but somehow... Slimy? I couldn't seem to rinse off the soap well enough. During my entire shower I was treated to the sounds of some harpy yelling at her worthless brats. I couldn't even bring myself to sit outside of my tent for long enough to make a decent dinner, so it was lunch all over again. I would recommend against a visit to the Bluff River Campground in Vancleave, MS. The day didn't exactly end well, and I'm a bit grumpy right now.

But I'm still glad to be back on the road. And tomorrow I should have a tailwind.

Blowing my own horn

I'm back in Huntsville, where phones and internets work. I don't have much else to say, so I'm just going to give you this: Yann Black updated his website, and I made the cut!

And some people love pain.

Airports are my fave.

After a fun, relaxing week in Gainesville, I am now headed back to Huntsville, just as the weather is turning in northern Florida. Heck yeah! Upon my return, I will be headed out to the farm for a couple of days, and it is a bit remote, so I will be out of contact until some time on Wednesday.

Later...

What is better than classic Trivial Pursuit?

The Nineties edition of Trivial Pursuit.

We played the crap out of that game.

We have also done a bunch of lounging around, talking and eating. We went for a swim in the cold cold pool, and found some craigslist furniture for my aunt. Today we went out to St. Augustine, oldest city in America, intending to go to the beach, but it was cold and windy. We settled for viewing the fort and the town, then headed back to Gainesville, where it is warmer than on the coast right now.

I wish I was staying longer, but I'm out on Monday.

Welcome to Florida...

After a terrific weekend in Nashville, I flew down to Florida to visit my aunt and cousins. The weather is fantastic here. On Tuesday we hung out at the beach a little, and played in the clear water on the pretty, clean-looking, soft sand. In the evening, we sat outside in the mild night air, listening to the chirping of the crickets and the bellowing of the alligators.

That's right.

Bellowing of the alligators.

If you are ever in gator country, and hear a low growling sound, it is most likely an alligator defining his territory, so he probably won't bother you if you don't go any closer to him. Probably.

Nashville has some sort of hold on me

I spent a relaxing week in Huntsville, hanging out and going to the Space and Rocket Museum. It was all right, if you like that sort of thing, but it had this big open warehousy kind of feel that bugged me, because there was no real route through the place, so I felt like I was wandering back and forth, trying not to miss anything, and nitpicking the grammar and spelling on the signs. Before we left, we rode on the Mars Rover simulator (I won't give away what is actually located on Mars) and the Spaceshot, which sent us straight up in the air and then dropped, simulating weightlessness for a few milliseconds. Good times! Don't miss those two things if you ever go to the museum.

I was planning on returning to the road, I swear, but a combination of bad weather, last minute plan changes, and the presence of my new favorite band, DD/MM/YYYY, in Nashville on Saturday night caused me to once again board a Greyhound bus and head back up there for the weekend. Fortunately, it was a short, daytime ride, so I wasn't too cranky when I arrived.

DD/MM/YYYY's set was a little wacky because they were on a very small stage, and there are five guys in the band, who switch instruments, so things looked a bit tight. This led to antics that included singing while hanging upside down over a railing beside the stage, and an (intentional) fall from the stage at the end of the show. The first time they switched places, the girl next to me said "musical chairs!" Heh. Nice.

The show was the most random line-up I have ever seen. The first band was some Lillith Fair sounding girly rock. Then DD/MM/YYYY did their ridiculously talented thing, followed by a basic rock'n'roll kind of band that did a few covers of stuff like The Cars. There was a fourth act who cancelled at the last minute, who was apparently kinda bluesy, according to the cranky people who asked for their money back. The good thing about this line-up was that it gave us time to hang with some of the DD/MM/YYYY guys after their sweet sweet set, since we weren't missing anything inside the club. We bought them beers and thanked them profusely, and they gave us t-shirts.

Nashville report

I'm pretty sure Greyhound's practices violate the terms of the Geneva Conventions. I knew the overnight bus wouldn't be a hoot, but I thought if I picked the bus route with no transfers, it wouldn't be too bad. How wrong I was. Every couple of hours, when we stopped in a major city, they MADE everyone get off the bus for about an hour, and sit inside the uncomfortable, well-lit station while they cleaned the bus. Seriously, how clean does this thing have to be? I don't need to pee or smoke! Can't I sit out here in the dark? Blurg. And the Louisville station, though it had larger, cleaner bathrooms than the Indianapolis station, had barely any seating. What's that all about?

After a nap, some tea with the woman who works at Music City Hostel, and a shower, I felt much better. The place has a homey feel, like you're just hanging out in someone's dining room or living room, chatting with whoever happens by. I sat outside in the sun for a while, and one of the guests played his guitar and sang. In the evening, I got tired of hanging around, and left way too early for the show I wanted to see, so I had to kill some time and beers in a random sports bar. Meh. When I finally went to the show, I was the ONLY person there. It turns out the show I had planned to see was cancelled, and there was some lame free show happening that no one went to. Darn. I tried to chat up the oddball proprietor, but he made it a chore, so I spent a while outside chatting with the bouncer. Nothing else was happening in town that night drew my interest, so I ended up giving up and going back to the hostel early. I was tired, but I ended up staying up super late anyway, talking to a couple of hostel folk.

I spent all day Saturday urban hiking with another girl from the hostel. We went to the Frist Center for Visual Arts, where we saw a really fantastic collection of oil paintings of people. The styles were all over the place, so it was quite intriguing. After that we wandered around the city looking at apartments, because my companion is in the process of moving to the city, and I had nothing better to do than wander around seeing different neighborhoods and getting a bit of a sunburn. After a shower and food, we went to the same place I had attempted to go the night before, but this time the scheduled show was actually happening. The nice bouncer let us in for free, and we ended up passing much of the night chatting with him and whoever else passed through the door. The music was okay, but not really holding my interest like the people show that was happening in the outside smoking area. It was a really varied crowd, from hippies to everyday normal guys to frat guys to tattooed freaks to some guy in super tight clothes and a fantastic gold jacket. It was an 18+ show, so there were all kinds of shenanigans involving underage drinking and girls passing out on the men's room floor.

The first act was a "DJ" who was just up there with a laptop, pushing buttons and dancing. It was confusing. Was he actually doing anything? He could have just popped in a CD. The other acts had multiple members and instruments, but, as previously stated, seemed more like background music for the real show that was happening all around. At least it was worth the money I paid to get in. I would have still been happy if I had paid the five dollar cover.

On Sunday, a kindly local squired me about town to see the view from Love Circle, a park on a hill that overlooks the city. The view was so good I forgot to take a picture. We checked out the Cheekwood Botanical garden and sculpture park, and saw a dragon in a park.

On Monday my stepmum and her friend (the one with all of the animals) came up to Nashville to get me and her friend's son. We had some wacky adventures involving crossing the tracks to a squatter camp, copper wiring, and Mexican food, then we headed back to Huntsville.

That ain't science! Screw this, I'm outta here.

Saturday night we attended a fun architect party. Perhaps they were discussing their craft amongst themselves, but my cousin and I managed to get ourselves into many varied and interesting non- architecture conversations.

Sunday we got food from Ethiopian Diamond. Yum! It was as good as my favorite place back home, Enat, in North Seattle.

We've basically been playing Trivial Pursuit for three weeks straight, and I've become so cranky with the quality of the "Science and Nature" questions, I started taking pictures and decided I needed a cathartic online kvetch. I was fed up with the astrology questions, and then a question about a superstition nearly caused a fit. I really got vocal when I got a question that is actually not true, though widely believed by many. I didn't photograph this one, but it claimed Thomas Crapper invented the flush toilet. It is almost forgivable, since he did actually exist, and was a plumber who improved upon the flush toilet and marketed indoor plumbing fixtures. This question is when I completely lost it. Come on! I thought that was as bad as it could get, but Trivial Pursuit managed to outdo themselves with this joke.

I am now on my way to Nashville, via overnight Greyhound bus (you gotta try everything once!) to spend a few days in a hostel taking in shows before heading back to Huntsville. Wish me luck, and if anyone has any recommendations that don't include country music, please comment!