Rest day, rest day rest day, say it with me, REST DAY!
They were so thick they'd fly into your jersey or open mouth. They are called lovebugs since a male and female attach and then go flying/mating for 12.5 hours. The swarm got worse as we climbed up a bridge/overpass. Apparently lovebugs have their own jet stream.
over and out
Less than 50 miles to go today with a day off the bike tomorrow. The only thing better is slugging down a Coke, thirsty as desert sand, then announcing your pleasure with a combat boot-wearing burp. Both make you cry.
A shorter day means more time in bed sleeping. We got up around 7 am, paid a visit to the RV for breakfast, all while sweating like Cajun pigs. The humidity raged although not at its peak. The water ran off my elbows while standing still thinking of cool, temperate Portland, Oregon. I remember sweating like this in Key West, Florida years ago. I stood at a bank walk-up window, filling out a withdrawal slip while sweat ran from my elbow to wrist, dripping onto the slip and turning my writing into a nice watercolor painting.
By now, we are missing Portland in so many ways, missing all the things that become so clear the further you move away from them. What does this mean? Possibly humans simply romanticize place when removed from it. Maybe survival requires nomadic behavior (avoiding the neighbor tribes before they invade, rape and pillage), behavior that has its roots in dissatisfaction with the present situation. All I can say is of all the places I see, I know that Portland fits the best; loose around the chest and neck, never chafing, pinching or bunching up. (say "bunch" over and over - what a strange word).
We left Simmesport around 8:30. The first few miles included the bridge over the Atchafalaya River. We rolled up to the light at the base of the bridge before heading over. The driver of a flatbed truck got on his PA system and asked if we wanted a lift over the bridge on the flatbed. The words hid under his accent, and it took a few seconds for us to register what he said. We smiled and waved him on.
bridge over the Atchafalaya River - Simmesport, Louisiana
We take an immediate turn after the bridge onto state routes 419/419/420, following the Atchfalaya and Mississippi Rivers - very few cars with a shoulder smoother than the road itself. One short section puts us on state route 1 where we hit a cloud of lovebugs (read more at http://www.bcgov.net/bftlib/lovebugs.htm).
They were so thick they'd fly into your jersey or open mouth. They are called lovebugs since a male and female attach and then go flying/mating for 12.5 hours. The swarm got worse as we climbed up a bridge/overpass. Apparently lovebugs have their own jet stream.
We reach the St. Francisville ferry before noon. The ride lasts less than 30 minutes, but the Mississippi is a huge river where the ferry crosses at a left hand bend. It is dark and murky. We decided against swimming. One last hill up to the town of St. Francisville. We rest, we eat, we blog.
over and out
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