John's retrospective on our trip

I asked John to provide his thoughts about our ride from New Orleans to Minneapolis. We shared our thoughts each evening as we wrote our blog or journal, so I am somewhat freely adding my thoughts in this wrapup as highlighted in blue.

Post Mortem.

Why I thought the Mississippi Ride would be a push over I will never know. Perhaps because I read the average daily ride distance was under 80 miles. What I didn't consider was the possibility of the temperatures soaring into the 90s F and ultra high humidity. (The daily high temperatures were above average for each day until the last three days.) After all it was still spring in the Deep South. In any event, the conditions were a real test for even the strongest riders. Probably the toughest and and most experienced rider, Jerry Griswold from California who has clocked up 60,000 miles worldwide, collapsed in a shop on the first day from dehydration. Two others had to be treated for dehydration and heat exhaustion. A last minute decision to take along my 2 litre Camelbak paid off. As with Tom these water bags for the back proved invaluable. Some days we gulped our way through six litres of water and a couple of litres of Gatorade. (I amaze at those who got by with 2 bottles. I often drank most of a Camelbak plus a bottle of Gatorade between SAG stops. Still, I was borderline dehydrated after the ride into St. Louis which was my highest fluid intake. I was shivering and weak-kneed that afternoon. Fortunately it was a rest day the next day and I was feeling much better by noon on that day.) Cycling with these H's (heat and humidity) would have been almost unbearable with a few other Hs such as Headwinds and Hills! Few 'civilians' understand why we cyclists inflict so much pain on ourselves. But I have to confess the pain/pleasure sorely tests the old adage "the worst day in the saddle is better than the best day in the office".

The Hounds of Hell. That's something the cycle company brochures don't boast about. But ironically the dog attacks through Louisiana, Mississippi and Tennessee sparked off the funniest stories. We all devised different strategies to tackle the hound hazzard. Tom's was the quirkiest. "Get off the couch" he yelled as the high speed dogs tore along him behind baring their yellow fangs inches from his butt. I am not sure it really worked. I reckoned few of these feral fiends came from homes with such comfy furniture. (John is a master of alliteration.) My thought was to think DOG and turn into a cycling Hound of the Baskervilles- barking and howling back at the snarling beasts (I referred to John as a big dog in one post). To be honest only a couple of dogs aborted their attacks leaving me with the only alternative...hammer the pedals like hell with the resultant heart rate shooting through the roof and a sore throat. (A few loud AARGHS also left me with a sore throat. Fortunately, the dogs disappeared after St. Louis as Jeff had promised.)

One of the big plus sides of the ride was the friendliness of all the riders- slow, moderate or quick. Getting to know the wide variety of characters who throw thenmselves into the long distance cycling melting pot for a month is a large part of the enjoyment. (I have called this the brotherhood of the road.) Naturally we all had more time to chat to cyclists of the same pace but everyone took time out to chat to all the riders. Also the warm generous personalties of the lead staff Jeff and Sondra, helper Pam and mechanic Gerard put everyone at their ease. I counted myself the luckiest rider sharing a room and most of the 1,800 miles from New Orleans to Minneapolis with Tom Dunn, His easy going nature, good humour and tolerance made the journey a joy. And his navigational skills (I clung to his rear wheel like a clam though all areas where the route map indicated more than one turning) were phenomenal. I became embarrassed at the number of times I congratulated him. His mastery of the back streets of Memphis and St Louis were a complete mystery to me! If I had been left to my own devices I would have ended up in a swampy cul-de-sac somewhere in the beyond. (Or alligator meat in other words. Getting to Memphis and St. Louis were easy. The last ten miles into Memphis had only two turns as I recall and we were on the same road into St. Louis and our hotel for over 20 miles. I missed 3 turns during the ride and 2 of them were favorable. I realized that we missed one turn almost immediately but still pressed on for 1/2 mile before finally admitting it to myself.)

As Tom knows, this was my final trip across the pond from Ireland for a long distance ride in the USA. After two US coast-to-coast rides and the West Coast Ride, the only one of interest was the East Coast ride from Maine to Florida. But reports of the heavy traffic have put me off. What next? (America will miss you John!) After mooching around at home in Northern Ireland for the past month, a few vague ideas are beginning to form. After all, there's a cliche to live up to: You don't stop moving when you get old.....you get old when you stop moving. (Amen to that and thanks John for your friendship the past five years. Let's keep in touch.)