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.