Hello, All,
It
was Sun., 31 July, and it looked and felt like a bad day when the ELF
suddenly had a flat tire. Marvin quickly turned off the highway and I
followed him down a gravel drive to stop in front of a maintenance barn
with a school bus parked nearby. It took us longer than it ought to
search out the tire patch kit, figure out how to remove the tube and
make the repair. We had just finished when a van pulled up behind us and
a man got out to ask, "Who are you and what are you doing here?" And,
suddenly, it wasn't a bad day at all, because when we explained our
situation, Ken and Melinda were eager to do anything they could to help.
The first
thing was the suggestion that we move the ELF, the van, and ourselves
into the welcome shade of their backyard tree. "Yes, of course we could
stay there overnight." We had discovered we were going to need to
replace the tire, and it being Sunday there was nothing we could do
toward that until Mon. We were still researching bicycle shops in the
surrounding area, when Ken came out to ask if we would like to go with
them to their church annual ice cream social that evening. Wonderful! A
surprising number of friendly folks introduced themselves to us and
welcomed us, and all of us enjoyed brimming bowls of home-made ice cream
in a dozen different flavors, with sides of brownies and cookies, even
cherry pie. It was a genuine binge, a serious sugar rush!
Back
home, we watched TV (a rarity for us) with them while all our sweaty,
smelly clothes went thru the washer and dryer. The program was something
called American Ninja Warriors, a competition of extreme physical
fitness, unlike anything we had ever seen before.
On
Mon. we drove to Murfreesboro to a cycle shop that said they could
order the tires for us, and might possibly get them in by the following
day---wonderful news! Ken, who drives a school bus and was presently on
break, was around most of the day, mowing his acres of green lawn and
tending the garden, with its surplus of tomatoes. When Melinda, who is a
Hospice nurse, got home we went together to a Chinese buffet, and later
sat on the porch swing, watching the storm clouds move in. It was all
very comfortable; as we visited, we found we shared a lot of the same
interests and values.
Tues.
afternoon, when we called the cycle shop, the tires were there. Another
trip to Murfreesboro and back, and Ken was ready to help Marvin
re-mount the tires and make sure the disc brakes were working properly.
Ken said he was no mechanic, but his broad practical background with
farm equipment, hang gliders, motorcycles and cars made him a better
shade tree mechanic than Marvin will ever be. We were glad of his help.
The ELF was all set to continue on our way on Wed., but that flat tire
had brought us a couple of new friends, who might even make it to Mena
to visit us one day.
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There
have been other important people along the way. The first group
pictured below is my niece, Becky, and her husband and 2 of her 3
children. We are not close, as neither of us picks up the phone to keep
in touch. We figured out that it must have been 10 or 11 years ago that
we last got together as we passed through Batesville, MS on one of our
trips. 'Way, 'way TOO long. Children then, young adults now,... I think
Lester and Sarah remembered our two dogs better than they remembered us.
The family drove over to our campground to pick us up and take us to
dinner at a nearby Fish place. It was a nice evening, and almost like
starting from scratch, with new friends who just happened to be family.
The
next two pictures are of the "Small World" variety....you know, when
you meet someone and are surprised to discover connections you hadn't
know existed.
Ian
Curlewis, on the left, was Camp Host at Meriweather Lewis Memorial Park
on the Natchez Trace. We immediately picked up on his Australian accent
and told we had sailed REBEL, our first boat, a home-built 35-footer,
to Sydney, decades ago. As we exchanged stories, we learned that Ian
used to captain the large schooners across the Atlantic to the Caribbean
and we had been in the Caribbean during the same years. A few more
reminiscences later, we realized we had mutual acquaintances in the
Virgin Islands, where we operated ENCORE, our 53-foot charter trimaran
for 20 years. Who could imagine that we'd meet up in the middle of
Tennesee?
Verl
Farnsworth struck up the conversation at the foot of the bridge across
the Tennessee River, drawn by my Ann-made sign on the back of the van.
It read SENIOR PEDAL POWER, and was "framed" by the old tires tied on
behind. This was one of our pre-arranged rendezvous where I was waiting
for Marvin to arrive and change the ELF's battery. Verl was completely
intrigued by what I told him about Marvin and his trip so far; he
couldn't wait to see him come rolling down the highway to meet me. While
we waited, I learned that Verl used to teach at Arizona State at Tempe,
where Marvin's family had lived for a while. It felt like a connection,
as we had visited in Mesa. AZ a couple of times. When Marv arrived he
took pictures to share with his children, who, he said, would be as
inspired as he was himself.
Verl
was here now on a summer job, boss of the crew hired to sandblast and
paint the bridge as soon as the work replacing the expansion joints was
completed. Just now, the bridge had only 1 lane open and traffic was
timed with a light. Verl advised that Marv should duck between the
barrels and ride down the "closed lane" at his own speed, rather than
hold back the traffic that had already been stopped for 20 minutes.
Sounded like a good plan!
Mike
Keenan was a 70-year old cyclist who stopped to visit one evening on
the Trace. He had ridden for years, and was just getting back into it
after a time out for back surgery. He liked to ride on the Trace for all
the reasons I liked driving on the Trace. He said he tried to ride 3 or
4 days a week, for around 40 miles at a time. That is about the same
distance as Marvin's average day's run. Mike asked if Marvin was taking
supplements; nothing other than Gatorade to replace the minerals. He
told about a couple of other things to look for. And, one thing he said
was very surprising to me. "If you get leg cramps, you can slurp one of
those little packets of mustard---regular yellow mustard. It will cure
them in about a minute and a half." Marv hasn't had leg cramps, but I am
curious to ask others I expect to be knowledgeable if that it true.
Sounds very odd.
Roy
Phillips of Rison, AR is another example of how "Random Acts of
Kindness" influence our lives. We hadn't intended to stop in Rison for
more than a battery exchange, but we lost one another. We had been
generally successful in our "bunny hop" method of travel in which it was
my job to drive ahead of him and find a place near a pre-arranged spot,
where I would be obvious from the highway as he came along. Service
stations, church parking lots, and cemeteries were often good choices.
This day, I was supposed to be near the intersection of highways 35 and
79. This was one of those times there was no campground available, and
we were considering 3 possible motels in Fordyce. Before setting out,
we had decided that we would skip Fordyce, go only as far as Kingsland
on 79, and turn N instead. It would be a long ride as far as Leola,
where there was a campground, or we might find someplace to stop in one
of the tiny communities along the way. So I was waiting at the Post
Office in Rison on highway 35, but Marv's GPS took him on a short cut
that by-passed me, and left him sitting in the parking lot of the Dollar
General at the intersection. After a while, we each tried the
telephone, but neither connected with voice, or voice-mail, or text. We
weren't seriously worried, but considering whether to start
backtracking, and maybe miss one another that way. I was just about to
set off on a search when a pick-up with the Cleveland County logo on it
circled around me, rolled down the window and said, "Follow me, and I'll
take you to where he is." GREAT! Minutes later, we were back together,
the pick-up driver honked and waved, and sped away.
Relief!
We were still comparing notes, when Roy Phillips drove up and wanted to
talk to Marvin about the ELF and "his story." He thought we should
contact the local newspaper editor, who often ran human interest
stories, and would like to talk with Marv. As we were asking Roy about
the roads between Rison and Leola, we asked about any campground, or
similar place we might stay. The time we had lost in the confusion made
it clear that we would smarter to stop here and continue toward Leola
the next day. Roy quizzed us about what we needed--- basically a place
to park where we wouldn't be hassled by the authorities,... and
electricity would be a bonus. Roy immediately made it his mission to
find such a place for us. He made a few phone calls, then led us to the
old Fairgrounds and the Pioneer Village. We had a personal OKAY from the
Mayor himself to stay. Roy made sure the electricity was operable and
opened the restrooms for us.
The
Pioneer Village was a collection of 8 or 10 historic buildings that had
been moved to the old Fairgrounds and were in the process of being
restored. They included a classic log building, the Mt. Olivet Methodist
Episcopal South church, established 1867, from the nearby community of
Calmer, a U.S. Post Office, the Dr.'s house, and the Mercantile. This
last building was to serve as a Visitor Center, and the whole complex
was to be a "living museum" celebrating the local rural life of the
previous century. It was an ambitious project, indeed.
When
Roy learned that I am a Polk County Master Gardener, he contacted the
local county agent, Les, who came down to check out the story of Marvin
and the ELF, say hello, and show me the Community Gardens and hoop
house, also at the old Fairgrounds. Roy was an enthusiastic booster, who
enjoyed being part of just about everything going on in the town. He
filled us in on the stories of each of the buildings, told us all about
the little pocket park and beautification plans for the 3-blocks of
Downtown, and explained where we would find the library and the Veterans
Memorial Park. He summed up his feelings for his town for us: "We're
good people here. We know how to treat people." I want to say that he
was a shining example of the good people of Rison and we will remember
him for his kindness toward us.
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Rivers and Geography
For
weeks, we had been saying we were going South down the Natchez Trace to
Tupelo, then turn West to cross the Mississippi at Helena/West Helena.
That had become our prime example of the influence the rivers had on
westward progress--- both the early settlers and our own. Now it was a
connection between the past and present, because getting across the
rivers was a challenge for us. There aren't many places where it is
possible to cross the Mississippi on a bicycle. When we stopped in at
the Welcome Center on the Mississippi side, the security guard told us
that usually a bicycle had a police escort to cross the bridge, but he
reckoned that my traveling behind Marvin was the same thing, so that
should be okay. We made sure the ELF had a fresh battery so Marvin could
use it aggressively and keep his speed no less than 20 mph going up; he
would coast at 35 or more, going down. It was a relief to clear the
bridge and negotiate the short distance to the chosen motel for the
night. Being back in Arkansas felt like a major milestone!
The
Tennessee River bridge, on the Trace, was over a mile long, but only
one lane of traffic, due to construction. And, thanks to Verl's
suggestion, we had a secret plan for that one!
To
cross the Arkansas River, we had to choose to go either north or south
from DeWitt, AR. North, we'd cross at Pine Bluff, which we had done,
outward bound, and didn't want to do again. We chose south, via Arkansas
Post, largely because we had never come that way before. I snapped a
picture from below, but the ELF was no more than a little blip on the
bridge.
I
turned off the highway to view the Saline River at Jenkins Ferry
Historical Monument. The brown, rushing river was lapping at the road,
swollen by the rains of recent days. I read the plaques explaining the
use of pontoon bridges to ferry Gen. Steele's Union troops across the
Saline River in his retreat to Little Rock after the Battle of Camden in
April, 1864. Today, we can enjoy a modern concrete bridge--- much
easier.
We
were having a LOT of rain! It is one thing to set off, then be caught in
the rain. It is quite another to set off when it is already raining!
This last picture is taken from inside the van, looking out thru the
deluged windshield at the wavery sign for the Grapevine Cemetery. We sat
here for 3 hours, enjoying a leisurely lunch while waiting for a break
in the weather. We finally caught a lull, and set off again--- but, of
course,it was only a lull. On the whole, the weather has been
cooperative, but this wasn't the pleasantest day's ride! I felt guilty,
cocooned in my climate-controlled van.
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And,
all that rain has resulted in an amazing crop of mushrooms. Once I
started to notice them, I saw them everywhere. They ranged in size from
thumbnail to dinner plate. And, there were reds, yellows, browns, grays,
and smooth, bumpy and wavy. They are always a good subject for my
ever-ready camera.
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I'll close this report with a page of miscellaneous shots.
The
hungry barn cat is the best story. She did everything she possibly could
to stow away and be rescued by us. She was seriously undernourished
and bony. When I began working on our dinner, we kicked her out of the
van and closed the doors. She promptly jumped in through the window. Put
her out again and ran the windows up, leaving a gap of no more than 4
inches at the top. She leapt, but couldn't make it, and slid back down,
smearing muddy feet on the glass. Her next move was to settle down on
the hood and watch us through the windshield, crying. Finally, she
jumped up and was stomping around on the roof. Next thing I noticed, she
was coming down from the roof, up-side-down, head-first, to squeeze
through the top of the window. Marvin opened the door, grabbed her and
roughly tossed her out. That frightened her, and we didn't see her again
until the next morning. I fed her, of course, as we left. I wish we
could have rescued her, fed her properly, but it wouldn't work....wrong
time, wrong place. Regrets.
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