Day 4: Bridges

As a quick review: Back in April of this year, I rode my motorcycle from South Padre Island, Texas to Key West, Florida using only (with some small exceptions) coastal roads and routes.  Here is why I did it.  

Well, you might have noticed that I took some time off posting.  Sorry about that, but I'm back and all of the posts for the remaining trip days are ready to go.  I'll be posting them every couple of days or so.

After all of the emotion and work that went into the ride, I just wasn't ready to spend the keyboard time on the write-ups.  I needed some space to let all these memories and feelings settle in to place.  I’m ready now...when last we met I had completed Day 3 in Galveston.  On to day 4!

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Sunrise in one State, Sunset in another.  Facing a full day of motorcycle travel is like standing one side of a huge bay and staring out towards the other side.  You can see the rough outlines of the opposing coastline but you don’t know exactly what it looks like.  Throughout each hour you build a bridge from who you were when you started to who you will be at the end of the day.

This is not the magic airplane machine that turns the outside from one place to another in 4 hours.  The journey becomes the reality and the destination is just where you will sleep.  It’s hard to explain but I hope everyone gets to experience it at some point.

That’s the upside.  There are downsides too.  After 11 hours on a bike, you feel stripped down to bare minimum.  It’s like all the other systems shut down because there isn’t enough power to maintain your full identity and keep you alive at 75 MPH. The road is the world and “You” are just the awareness that is keeping the bike moving. It has an emotionally deadening effect that I can’t consider to be all good.  

The stuff in these posts usually only covers about 30 percent of a day. The rest is just scenic, soothing, emotional dead space.

Anyhow, let’s get to the high points of day 4.

Remember, I spent last night in Galveston with J and the kids.  I should have left before J and the kids did.  As it was, we all woke up in the Harbor House hotel in Galveston.  We had the (tasty) continental breakfast and I helped J and the kids get ready to head north.  The kids had school in just a couple of hours and I could tell that J had anxiety about being late.  How many other kids got to say “Yeah, I had breakfast in Galveston this morning, how was YOUR weekend?”

Watching them drive away, I felt like someone had cored me like an apple.  Just this big hole where laughing, yelling, hugs and companionship used to be.  I was running on will power alone at that point.  I always hate driving away from Galveston (feels wrong somehow) and I can’t stand being away from J and the kids.

Nonetheless, I rolled my luggage out to the bike and began the ritual.  Unfortunately, this was day 4 and I was pretty good at the packing.  I was able to let my mind wander throughout the whole process.  All the things we did yesterday, all the things I did wrong, the longest ride of the trip (today), new roads, bad navigation and mental fatigue that made me wonder if I’d even slept at all.  Darkness was setting in and I had to get the fuck across that bay immediately.

On the bike and out of the Strand district.  I was pretty late.  I think it was close to 8AM.  No worries, the ride today would only take about 10 hours at the most.  I made my way back to the Ferry.  The ride across was uneventful.  I spent most of it just sitting on the observation deck. 

The view was gorgeous...

But I felt like this.

Off the Ferry onto the Bolivar Peninsula.  I've written about this placebefore.  So I’ll just say that the western part of the island was as enjoyable as usual.  Having ridden the entire coast now, there is nothing quite like it.  Even Galveston Island “feels” different. 

I’ve written before about coming at old towns from new ways.  You always see something new.  This time, it was pretty easy to spot High Island.  Gulf on the right, sweeping coastal plains on the left.  Flat as a pancake with only Oil rigs to break the plain.  Then this remarkable clump of pine trees stands off in the distance.  It is really remarkable

As far as I know, its unique to this region.  I know that I certainly didn’t see anything else like it anywhere in my travels.  I found it strangely mesmerizing and I didn’t really look at anything else for about 10 miles. 

There is a nice historical marker just outside of High Island and I stopped there for a break

I took 124 to Winnie and then 73 to Port Arthur.  Just because I don’t have a lot to say about this section of road doesn't mean I didn't like it.  It was green fields, interminable flatness, pretty brown irrigation canals and coastal country simplicity.  I felt relaxed and peaceful.  Which is good because things didn't change much for the next 200 miles.

Over the Rainbow bridge towards Louisiana:

From Wikipedia.

By the end of the day, I was ready to write to the Louisiana Governor, demanding that he change the state motto to “Hope you like bridges Motherfucker”

I took 82 along the Louisiana coastline.  Think Gone with the Wind at the beach.  The road just felt Southern (don’t pronounce the R)…and coastal.  Big mossy oaks and swamps.  Trailer towns and pretty, quant beach homes scattered the road on both sides.  I remember being concerned about this part of the ride.  It was silly.  The road was long, welcoming and harmless.  I was a little surprised at the complete lack of beach along the coast.  From the road, you don’t see any.  I think there might be some small public beaches but you have to cut over through the swamp to get to them.  I didn't really have the time so I stayed on 82.

There was a Ferry ride in Cameron.  The Ferry only held around 20 vehicles and there was only one.  Took about an hour to get across a ¼ mile stretch of water.  Very frustrating as I was already running really late.  Still, I love Ferry rides and the guys that handled this one were familiar with motorcycles.  They put me in a really good spot and told me to enjoy the ride.

Outside of Cameron it was really just swamp for another 150 miles.  Along the road, there were these cool concrete drainage platforms that were about 25 feet by 25 feet.  They extended into the swamp. Perfect for a bike rest stop and dead body disposal.

As I dined on MRE (military camp meals) Pears I wondered how many human bodies had been dumped right here.  Aside from that grisly thought, the primal beauty was striking. The swamp is gross but it sure feels balanced.

Onward toward Abbeville.  I had no trouble finding the town. 

Again, regarding the number of bridges in Louisiana:  I stopped in Abbeville to walk around.  While I was walking down a sidewalk, someone came up and dug a trench in front me.  Another guy then built me a quick bridge to walk over it.  It was nice but fuck guys, get some solid land for chrissakes.

While Abbeville is a really pretty historical town, it was really hard to find a decent Cajun restaurant.  Seriously, after 30 minutes of schlepping through town, I said hell with it and hit a Bennigan’s on the highway.  It felt good to sit and eat a meal but I shouldn’t have wasted the time.  It was late afternoon and I was still hell-and-gone from Bay St. Louis.

The road through to New Orleans wasn’t bad at all.  I stopped for coffee and this happened:

Put the lid on the starbucks bottle before you shake the damn thing

Another 15 minutes that I wouldn’t get back.  I began to think that I would not make it before nightfall.

 

It was pitch dark before I got to New Orleans.  This was actually a good thing as I had never seen downtown New Orleans at night

I always think of this town as being so much smaller than Houston but the downtown area looks to be pretty big.  Like Houston, the skyline is fantastic.

Still so many more miles to go.  I had to stop a dozen times to check my location but I finally made it to the Hollywood Casino at about 10:00.  13 hours of riding.  I didn’t know that I could even do that.  Even sitting here it sounds implausible. 

I am really glad I picked a casino to stay in.  Even on a Monday, things were hoppin’.  It made me feel like I hadn’t arrived in the middle of the night.  You can’t be sleepy in a casino.  There is just too much excitement.  I loved it.

They gave me a beautiful room overlooking the pool.  I felt strangely good.  Out of gas but rolling anyway.  Soooo, I went down the Casino.  On about the tenth game of video poker the fatigue caught up with me.  I almost laid my head down on the damn game. I finished donating my allotted 20 bucks and went back upstairs to crash in the comfy bed.  I slept like rock.  Tomorrow would see me through to Florida.