Day 2: Natchez Trace Self Contained Ride

My first night on the Trace at the National Park Service (NPS) Rocky Springs was a bit cool. I packed a three season sleeping bag and sleeping bag liner. This combination of sleeping gear provided a range of comfort for unpredictable fall weather patterns. I also had a full body ThermalRest sleeping mat. My pillow was a stuff bag with a fleece liner that I filled with a small inflatable pillow and my other clothing. Overall this equipment provided comfort with only minimal carry weight.

I was up around 7:00am. Before breakfast, I walked up the hill to the location of the now long-gone town of Rocky Springs for which this campsite is named. The only remains of this city are two old, rusting metal safes (sans doors), a few water cisterns and a Methodist Church. The church had been active up until a few years ago. Now it stands as a silent guardian over the souls buried in the nearby graveyard.

The history of the Trace contains abundant evidence of the impact of passing time has on lives. As foot and commercial traffic patterns changed and as technology such as the steamboat became commonplace, towns along the Trace flourished and then ebbed out of existence. To those of us with memories of “I like Ike” (1950’s) , there was a similar eclipse of small town motels and businesses as the interstate highway system wound its way in all directions across America. The “internets,” as former president George Bush would note, drove yet another transformation of traffic. I suspect all is just the natural order of things adjusting and re-adjusting.

All these thoughts flooded me as I walked back to my campsite along an original part of the Natchez Trace. I was walking the same ground that so many Kaintucks had trod more than two centuries earlier. Sometimes letting one’s imagination have free rein is the natural order of the day.

Back at camp, I made my breakfast using my Whisper Lite to heat water for oatmeal and coffee. I found later in the week that my “normal” portion of oatmeal was insufficient for the day’s ride. Note to self: double breakfast intake.

Based on my riding experience from the previous day, I re-configured my bike packing. My Trek 5500 is a carbon fiber road bike without grommets for panniers. I had attached to my seat post a small rack on which I secured my sleeping bag with a elastic net that I had purchased from REI. A second net was used to secure my water proof bag to the BOB (vs. the cross cords provided with the BOB). These REI-purchased nets were an excellent addition to my riding gear. Light weight, easily reconfigurable to lash things to either bike or BOB, they offered a simple mechanism for storing things such as food, water or clothing in an easy-to-reach fashion. Highly recommended.

I attached my red flashing light to the net holding my sleeping bag to the seat post rack and was on the road by 9:00am. The next planned stop was Clinton, 34+ miles away. It was a 68 mile day, so I rode a pretty steady pace in the morning, but still stopped at historic markers along the way - Choctaw Boundary, Dean Stand, Battle of Raymond. These stops offered a mini history of the Trace and a chance to allow newly consumed information to swirl and mix with my thoughts as I rode. A Trace ride, in my humble opinion, would be incomplete without such fare.

This is on the only section of the Trace where traffic is a problem. Between mile 80 and 105 there is a fair amount of local traffic. In this stretch, the Trace has access to I-16/I-55. Locals from Jackson and Clinton use the Trace for their daily commute route. Caution and a flashing rear light are recommended.

Mile 89: Pulled off the Trace into Clinton and stopped at Lenny’s Sub Shop for a lunch break. Following lunch was a visit to the welcoming Clinton Visitor Center.

The visitor center has some very nice displays of local history items and lots of “stuff” for sale. The visitor center, which attracts a great deal of auto traffic from the Trace, also has signage reminding motorists of the state law to maintain a three foot clearance from cyclists; a nice touch.

Day cyclists were abundant on Trace this weekend day. A multi-use trail near the Trace also was filled with walkers, runners and other cyclists. I took a “purist” position and opted to stay on the actual Trace rather than ride this parallel path.

Back on the Trace, I rode with a steady flow of traffic for 13 miles to MS 51. I exited the Trace at MS 51 and headed for a large supermarket .3 mile from the Trace as indicated in Wanner’s guidebook. My evening campsite was a private campground (Ratliff Ferry) that advertised a store and restaurant, but I suspected the "restaurant" would be no more than a burgerand beer depot for fishermen launching their boats. My re-supply list included fresh fruit and carrots.

Again, Wanner’s off-Trace directions were difficult to follow. After exiting, the Trace directions indicated I should “head south toward Jackson.” There was no signage and as far as I could determine, the road ran east-west. But this trip was an adventure, so I turned left at the first traffic light, School St., and Mac’s Fresh Market and a small shopping center were found, supplies acquired and I was back on the Trace.

Traffic started to thin as the Trace hugged the rim of the huge Ross Barnett reservoir. The sky was a clear blue, road smooth, pleasant weather….a perfect postcard day for a ride.

Mile 122: The last tourist stop of the day was the Cypress Swamp. The swamp is a look back into a more primordial time with languid waters gently lapping against sprawling root systems of ancient cypresses. I strolled the wooden walkway around the swamp preparing to venture a bit deeper into the interior of the swamp when a local noted if I were “lucky” I may be able to see the gators that call this swamp home. Hmmm… I snapped a few more photos from the security of the wooden walkway and proceeded down the Trace to Ratliff Ferry campground.

Mile 123: The signage to Ratliff Ferry campground was quite visible from the Trace. The campground is located at the very end of the road adjacent to the parking lot where a boat launch ramp is located. The restaurant/store is located off the parking lot as well. My expectation that it was a burger/beer depot proved correct. I arrived just before closing time of 6:00pm, paid my five dollar camping fee and bought a beer. When in Rome...

As I left the store, a dozen Harley hogs were pulling out of the parking lot that stirred the air within my lungs with their deep-throated engine roar. I was not sorry to see them leave.

The primitive campsite is just an open patch of land adjacent to the parking lot. There were trees for shade, a picnic table for dinner and large white 50 gallon plastic trash container with the re-assuring message in block lettering “NO FISH GUTS.” Life could not be better.

Separate restroom and shower facilities were available. The restroom adjacent to the campsite/parking lot was pretty clean. It had a reliable source for drinking water and provided a safe haven for my food bag in the evening. The showers had hot water, but the whole shower experience was pretty primitive.

The shower room was located a very short walk in a nearby complex that offered long term single and double wide trailer placement. Here, flags with the US stars and stripes flew proudly with flags of the Confederate stars and bars. Burgers, beer, Harleys…what else would one expect?

The evening settled on the water way and I settled into my dinner and journal writing.
Total mileage: 75.5 / avg 12.9 mph

Day 1: Natchez Trace Self Contained Ride

Rising early at our hotel in Brookhaven, my wife Helen drove me to Natchez, MS. Glen Wanner’s excellent guide book “Bicycling the Natchez Trace” purchased on Amazon put the start of the Natchez Trace at the corner of MLK and State Streets in Natchez. I opted rather to drive the city streets in Wanner’s book until we came to the actual parkway entrance.

At an Exxon gas station near the parkway entrance, I unpacked my bike, Yak BOB (Beast of Burden) and gear from our car and loaded it onto my bike. With gear packed, a last-minute hug, a kiss, “have a great ride” encouragement from lovely wife and I was on my way by 10:00am.

Mile 1: The Trace road surface is excellent; smooth and without road seams. There is NO shoulder the entire length of the Trace. However, traffic is pretty light and cars generally took a wide berth when passing.

Road mileage markers faithfully appear every mile on the right side of the Trace as you ride north. Historic markers also appear with regularity. I used these historic markers as “surprise rest stops” and as an opportunity to slowly drink in the rich history of the Trace.

Mile 10.3: Took a 2-mile round trip detour to visit the Emerald Mounds. The road surface down to the mounds was extremely rutted and rough. This little detour was well worth the slow and difficult braking required to descend the road.

These mounds were once a central part of a large village complex inhabited during the Mississippian Era from 1300 – 1600. It was hard to visualize from these empty and worn grassy mounds the active and bustling society that so long ago labored to construct these earthen mounds. As I stood atop the main mound, I thought about all the Native American Indians who toiled, lived and died in the shadow of this very mound, but never ascended to its top. I was now a welcomed tourist and even provided the convenience of wooden steps and a handrail to assist my assent. I clicked a few more pictures and then resumed my bike ride.

Mile 15.5: Mt. Locust is one of the original inns or stands, as they were called, that remains from the early days of the Trace. Mt. Locust is a must-see stop on any tour. Built in 1780, this simple inn serviced Trace travelers until foot traffic on the Trace diminished by 1825. Mt Locust then became the plantation homestead for five generations of the Chamberlain family. The inn/homestead was restored by the National Park Service to its rustic feel of 1820.

Mt. Locust is a simple home. Staring into the open eating area with a table set for dinner, one could imagine Kaintucks walking homeward on the Trace sitting about the table swapping stories of deeds both true and fanciful. No electricity, no running water, no A/C, no Internet, iPad.

I also visited the slave cemetery a short walk from the house. Only one grave marker remains, but the names of those buried are listed on nearby signage. The visit added to my growing appreciation of the many unrecorded stories surrounding the Trace of real people doing ordinary things.

Back on my bike, I settled into a steady pace beneath overhanging trees draped in Spanish moss. Although this southern section of the Trace is generally flat with very moderate rolling hills, I felt as though I was on a slow climb upward. Nothing difficult, only a sense of a steady slow climb.

Mile 37.5: I planned to have lunch in Port Gibson and followed Wanner’s direction to exit the Trace at MS 61. Generally, I found Wanner’s off-Trace direction less than satisfying. I followed his directions to turn right before “going under the NTP (Natchez Trace Parkway)” and found myself on old Highway 61. Signage off the Trace is spotty and I never quite figured out how to map Wanner’s directions to my riding reality. But I had an adventure riding through a poor working class section of Mississippi. I asked twice if the road headed into Port Gibson. “Yes” was the answer so I continued. I was in search of water and lunch and nothing in the neighborhoods in which I was riding would provide those services.

I used my Blackberry GPS to get my bearings when I was at the junction of 61 and 594. By now I had given up on following Wanner’s directions and focused my attention on finding water, a store or small restaurant. Near my location was a small health facility and I figured they had water. Parking my bike outside the facility, I pushed open the door, wandered a bit until Nurse Rachael asked if she could help me. This was a small facility and the patients were old and infirmed. What I soon discovered was that an angel of grace and care in the person of Nurse Rachael walked among them.

I explained my need for water. Nurse Rachel motioned me to an ice machine where I filled my water bottles. When I asked where a store or restaurant could be found, she paused and responded “Wait here” and the disappeared for a few moments.

Upon her return she re-located me to the nurse’s cafeteria where a sandwich, bag of chips and cold drinks were waiting. My many “thanks” were answered with “I am a 100% nurse!” and so she is. Amen!

As I rode highway 61 back to the Trace, I noticed that if I had not followed Wanner’s direction to turn before going under the NTP,

but rather went straight under the Trace bridge, that a service station was just short distance down highway 61. It would have been a far shorter journey for water, but one with far less adventure and I wouldn't have been touched by an angel.

Mile 41.3: Took MS 18 toward Port Gibson just to see what was “down the road.” MS 18 is a busy road with a rumpled shoulder. After 1.5 miles, I came to intersection with a number of service stations and small stores. My campsite at Rocky Springs was 13+ miles away and I was unsure of the water supply that I might find (or not find) there. I filled my water bottles and the two one-liter soda bottles I carried on my BOB as my reserve.

Back on the Trace, the landscape opened to fields of rolled hay. There was less tree overhang. It was, however, a perfect fall weather day…no heat and little wind. The ride to Rocky Springs again felt uphillish, but again, nothing terrible. I was getting tired on this first day.

Mile 54.8: As I pulled into the National Park Service Rocky Springs campground, I noticed that the ranger station at the campground entrance was opened, but not manned. There was information on the campground layout, bathrooms, water supply and guest registry book. I rode about and saw there were plenty of open campground sites. I pulled into a level site with a picnic table near the comfort station (bath rooms). Dave, the campground host, greeted me and shared that due to the dry conditions campfires were not allowed, but confirmed the use of my Whisper Lite camp stove was okay. He also noted the dry conditions kept the “locals” away this weekend day.

Among my concerns on this my maiden voyage on the Trace was how crowded campsites might be. I have had experiences on other self-SAG rides entering campgrounds only to be told that all spots were taken. Fortunately, I never encountered any of the Trace campsites anywhere near capacity. If such an occurrence had come to pass, the denizens of these campgrounds are gracious. I am sure accommodations for a cyclist would be found.

It was now 6:00pm and I settled in for dinner. Dinner was a foil bag of chicken, Ramen noodles (without the flavor pack) mixed with dry Lipton chicken noodle soup mix. After dinner I scribed my ride notes sipping on an International decaffeinated coffee drink.

I had checked with Dave if bears were a problem in the campground. “No” was his answer, but raccoons were frequent visitors. I hung my food bag from a tree that night. I was extremely careful not to have food in my tent.

Experiences on un-developed Cumberland Island off the coast of Georgia showed me how resourceful raccoons can be. During this ride, I would hang my food bag in a camp comfort station or wrap my food bags in one or two plastic bags and hang the food inside the heavy metal gauge camp garbage cans.

In the middle of night, I was glad I had taken food precautions when the howl of coyotes filled the air. I typically selected a campsite near the comfort station. Such campsites provided easy to access to water and bathroom facilities, a beacon to find one’s campsite after an evening stroll and usually off the perimeter of the campground where the coyotes tend to congregate.

Another precaution I took was to self administered an Advil PM with dinner. I have no history of knee problems, aliments on century rides or problems on week-long organized rides. However, I was on my own now and did not want even the smallest muscle/stress problem to grow to debilitating situation later in the week.
Total Mileage: 67 / avg unknown

Wilson 100

A crown jewel in the Southern Bicycle League (SBL) ride calendar was held on August 30, 2010 in Fayetteville, GA. This year marked the 37th time the Wilson 100 was held to honor past SBL president Scott Wilson. Scott, an indefatigable advocate for Atlanta area cycling, was struck down by cancer before the age of 40. In memory of Scott, a portion of the ride’s profits are designated to a charitable non-profit organization. This year's beneficiary was The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society.

The Wilson 100 actually provides ride options for cyclists with varying capabilities. There is a 16 mile family ride and longer rides of 31, 54, 65 and 101 miles. General information and registration forms are available on the Wilson 100 website. The pre-ride and day-of-ride registration process was flawless and offered numerous registration options from $15 to $48, post ride meal and optional purchase of a Coolmax shirt. The ride is limited to the first 1,200 registrants.

As I did last year, I rode the century option. With my wrist band and ride que sheet obtained from the pre-ride check-in, I was ready to roll 30 minutes before the scheduled 8:15 am mass start. Since the course is well marked with road paintings that include many post turn confirmation markings, I pushed off with a small knot of riders.

The road surfaces were great to excellent and traffic was extremely low; all ideal conditions for a Sunday ride. The course terrain is rolling hills, another way of saying you will be downshifting a good part of the day looking for some lower gears. However, for a late in the year century, most riders were motoring up the climbs in good order. The weather was less than cooperative. An early morning mist and cloud cover that we continuously proclaimed would “burn off” lingered the whole day. At times a heavier rain fell, but fortunately there were no lightning bolts or gully washing downpours. Such things are to be expected on long rides. At least we were spared from a hot Georgia August baker.

The rest stops were well stocked and supported by enthusiastic volunteers. During this year’s BRAG (Bike Ride Across Georgia), I volunteered with my wife twice as a rest stop volunteer. As riders focused on hydrating and refueling, we can easily fail to appreciate all the organization and work needed to make those PB&Js, orange slices, fill water containers and mix sports drinks. It was nice to hear lots of thanks and words of appreciation extended to the volunteers.

The final rest stop at the Hollonville Opera House was a true gourmet treat. Representing the best of cross ride volunteer pollination, the volunteers from the Tony Serrano Century Ride offered a feast of fruit, baked goods and a wide selection of sports drinks.

There are only two recommendations for improvement I would offer. One, there was a general absence of “on your left” as stronger riders zipped by. Organizers may want to highlight that the pleasantry of a “good morning” adds to our southern hospitality and general safety. The second recommendation is a special start time for the peloton riders. About mile 12-15, the very strong peloton riders from the mass start arrived like a swarm of Africanized bees. They clearly commanded the road. My little group spinning at 16-17 mph was simply overpowered by this pack of 100+ riders. Maybe letting the high-test riders mass start at 7:30am would allow them more road management control and lower the potential for collisions with other riders.

I Shut Down 400! Hospitality Highway Bike Ride

Over 1,100 riders participated in the second annual Hospitality Highway bike ride held Sunday, July 11, 2010. The ride is a fund raiser for the

Georgia Transplant Foundation (GTP) and has two compelling reasons to elicit your participation. One, the GTP is a great cause to support. No one knows when (if) one of our “intelligently designed” organs will go kaput. It is nice to know that there is an organization that will be there for us. Secondly, you get to “SHUT DOWN 400!”

Through the cooperation of bike-friendly Mayor Jerre Wood of Roswell, the Roswell and Sandy Springs police departments and Brandon Beech representing the Georgia Department of Transportation, GA 400 southbound lanes were closed for 30 minutes between Exits 6 – 7 giving cyclist free reign on this typically forbidden fruit.

A short 8 mile “I Did It” ride option allowed just about anyone to claim temporary dominance over the concrete lanes of GA 400. Other mileage options included 25, 63 and 100 miles. I opted for the century.

The organizers did a great job on their website. The site provided access to ride option maps, online registration, hotel information, a link to a Facebook account as well as directions and timings for onsite registration. A top-notch job all the way around.

Starting on the Exit 7 southbound ramp of GA 400 at 6:30 am, the thrill of zipping down GA 400 was over pretty quickly.

Riders then settled into the yeoman work of pedaling their selected option. About 270 riders who opted for the century rider exited GA 400 and then turned northward to cycle Roswell, Alpharetta, Milton and Mountain Park.

Generally the road selection was good to excellent. Most roads were smooth, well maintained and free of traffic. Course markings were good, but at times inconsistent. Many turns had roadside signage and/or colored road markings. But with any century there were the inevitable missed turns and course re-tracings. SAG stops were well stocked and bicycle mechanical support was provided by Roswell Bicycles.

This year’s century course was not for those who are mulling over the idea of doing their first century. I have been riding the road network north of my Roswell home for more than 20 years. I thought I had encountered every combination of upward inclines possible in this generally hilly part of north Atlanta. The course planners exceeded my discovery skills. They appeared to have made an effort to incorporate more climbs than would typically be found on a hot July century ride in Georgia. Even a small knot of 30-something strong riders, 25 years my junior, mused about their ability to clear the last set of 4 – 5 sharp climbs at the 75 mile SAG stop. We all motored on. My hope is that the course planners will toggle back on the climbing next year and create a more balanced ride profile.

The ride organizers hoping to expand participation for this great cause are considering future course options that will be more appealing to mere mortal cyclists.

Parallel Universes

In 1954, Hugh Everett, a Princeton University doctorate candidate, explaining why pesky quantum matter behaves erratically postulated that the existence of parallel universes mucked up our neatly ordered way of living. “Hugh you need to get out more often,” I thought until I met Betty and Bill Clark and their trove of “collectables” and a bevy of young gals making videos of “brushing your teeth with mustard.” All this can’t be going on simultaneously, but it is.

While on bike ride along the Silver Comet, I had my chance encounter with the Clarks at their treasure emporium housed in an aging cotton gin constructed more than 60 years earlier. “My Daddy and I would come here to unload cotton,” Betty said making reference to the original wagon scale on which I stood. The cotton is gone.

The old gin is now filled in helter-skelter chaos with rusting tools, old books, pictures and electrical appliances that held the promised of modern convenience. The whole archive caps out somewhere in the 70’s with Blue Oyster Cult and Queen vinyl 45s.

The Clarks are of another time. Bill rocked in his chair as Betty recounted their life, a good life, of acquiring the remains of estates or self-storage units. Bill’s skillful hands restored discarded furniture. Betty sold it. The cycle would then repeat. Along the way lots of junk was acquired. “I throw away all the old papers I find. But I save the bibles and give those away to good homes,” Betty intoned peering into the gin of junk. Time will be forever kind to the Clarks. There is no tension or reason to change.

Back on my bike and a few miles later I encountered inhabitants of a parallel universe. In this universe, millions of new Facebook users faithfully appear. They create 70 new pieces of content and exchange 25 billion bits of information each month. These inhabitants are unfazed by this frenzy of activity. They are contributors to this ever increase emporium of electronic data. The denizen I meet who thrived in this universe were all under 12 years of age.

My little gaggle of gals sat in the back of their Mom’s SUV parked at the end of the church property that abutted the Silver Comet. They were selling bottled water with the hopes of raising funds to buy props for their video projects. They related how they would cast wide about for ideas like brushing their teeth with mustard. Buy or assemble needed props. Use a digital camera to record their epics. Dad would then use PC software to edit and create an iVideo.

These iVideos mimic the antics of clips on the iCarly website. iCarly is an American children's television series that focuses on a girl named Carly Shay who creates her own web show called iCarly with her best friends Sam and Freddie. (Thank you Wikipedia). iCarly iVideos include plots such as: sewing your underwear in the shower, going to an Inside-Outside Burger to hassle, annoy and blow air horns at the workforce (that was noted as “Fun!”) and asking the ultimate iQuestion “Y R boys stupid?”

Mom who emerged from the church building shared that the fun was harmless and gave the girls playful shared moments. I shared my observation that her young brood never knew a world without the Internet, digital cameras, cell phones or the pace of life that only a rocking chair can offer. I bought a bottle of water and then donated another $5 to the iVideo prop budget.

As I rode away my two encounters fused in my mind. The Clarks comfortably surrounded by yesteryear and my gang of digital film makers pushing the idea envelope. Sometimes the best thing about bike riding is stopping and listening to the stories of people…regardless of which universe they may inhabit.

Silver Comet and Chief Ladiga Rails-to-Trails

On Saturday July 3, 2010, I enjoyed a delightful end-to-end ride of the
Silver Comet and Chief Ladiga Trails. This 90+ mile ride started at Nickajack in Georgia and ended in Woodland Park, just north of Anniston, AL. Both trails were great rides, but the Silver Comet has a slight edge over Chief Ladiga in my ride book.

The Silver Comet is wider and is primarily a concrete path. Heavy use of the trail in some places made the added width a plus, but generally for long stretches I had the trail to myself.

The concrete seams were well constructed so there was very little thump-thump as I rode along. A few sections of the trail are showing stress (in the 40 – 49 mile range) with cracks and seams opening to allow vegetation growth.

In this same section, I also encountered tree and vegetation litter that required a slowing of my pace to avoid potential twig or pine cone damage to my tires. Finally, the trail in this section diverts from old railroad grade inclines and offered up some short, but sharp, climbs. The admonishment painted on the trail “Slow” should be followed. The down hills are quick with several sharp turns.

At mile 50.98, the trail took another detour from old railroad beds and actually traveled down a Cedartown city sidewalk. There was also a short stretch on Cedartown city streets. This close-in urban cycling gave rise to graffiti on Silver Comet signage and on the walls in underpass tunnels. The majority of the trail traverses woodland environs with only a few sections that parallel major road systems.

The meeting of the two trails is marked by an archway on the heavily wooded Georgia-Alabama border. Here, the asphalt-paved Chief Ladiga starts its 33-mile winding to its completion at Woodland Park. The scenery is just wonderful. The trail also remains true to old railway grading and meanders through some very nicely wooded terrain.

The forest root system, however, is attempting to reclaim the asphalt paved trail. Tree root ridges appear with random frequency and density. As I clipped along between 15 – 16 mph on high pressure tires, the root ridges became jarring natural speed bumps. One should not be discouraged from riding the trail by this comment, but be watchful of nature’s sly way of slowing us all down.

The first facility from the border for water, restrooms and food is in Piedmont (mile 13.6). The Eubanks Welcome Center is on the trail. Piedmont shops and restaurants are not far off the trail. The full trail is paved to Woodland Park, however, the final 7+ miles to Anniston is not part of the current trail system. You will need to navigate the public road system if that is your final destination.

A good resource for identifying facilities is the website http://trailexpress.com/trails. I carried a printed listing of services and their mile markers.

I also took advantage of the services provided by young entrepreneurs who set up water and snack stands along the trail. I recommend you bring some cash and a willingness to linger in idle conversation. I also found cell phone reception (T-Mobile) spotty in several of the remote areas. I suspect it would have been wiser to have riding partners to handle any unexpected emergency. The only bike shop on the combined trails is on the Silver Comet at mile 4.2.

My lovely wife retrieved me at the end of the Chief Ladiga trail. We then spent that evening at an enchantingly restored antebellum bed & breakfast called the English House in Jacksonville, AL. This B&B is a real treasure, as is its proprietor, Millie English. But hurry, Millie has the English House up for sale.