A blue flag iris, also known as a Louisianna Iris, at least according to the old farmer in the next field who saw us taking pictures and came over to talk.
strawberry fields
Strawberry plants waiting to be ravaged
Janet and Marni, outstanding in the fieldAfter a restful day off it was hard to get the legs motivated to move this morning, especially knowing that it was going to be a long day. It had cooled off overnight so the grass was frosted with dew and the trees were dripping in the silence, while Humphrey, the resident peacock, made sure everyone was up and functioning by having a hissy fit and screaming for about 5 minutes. Alphonsa Rose, the resident cat, who had been lolling around for people to scratch her head, rump and belly, finally gave up in disgust and went to sulk under the porch of the pool house.
Since my riding partner Janet was staying in town, while I was out on the plantation, we had agreed to meet up at the 20 mile sag. As it turned out, we met somewhat earlier, as she had picked up a chunk of rock and flatted her tire at about mile 10. We rode as a pack of four with two other ladies for a while, but then once we were both warmed up, we pushed on while our legs were still relatively fresh.
There were some not so gentle rolls early on. Nothing like the hills we have climbed, but somehow these seemed so much more difficult after nearly two weeks of almost flat riding. There were long stretches of level in between so it was hard to get into a good gearing rhythm. The miles passed quickly alternating wide open fields with lots of live oak, and timber piney woods. We weren't planning to stop until the SAG but in Jackson there was a lovely little public park with an historical marker, a victorian bandstand/gazebo, and public bathrooms with flush toilets. Like the queen, we never pass up a good flush toilet especially when the option is squatting in the grass with the chiggers, ticks and fireants.
The SAG stop was just beyond a local prison, which really looked more like a horse plantation than a prison, with large, wide open green fields, orchards, and planted fields, all neatly fenced in with white wooden fences. Obviously, it is more a work release facility than a holding pen for violent offenders. While we were stopped, a gravel truck pulled up beside us and we had a lovely conversation with Jimmy, the truck driver, who wanted to know all the details of the ride. When we asked him about possible eating places in Zachary, his home town, he laughed and said " no'em, I'm a country boy, I don't eat out so's to mention."
The rest of the ride, aside from a 5 mile detour after Magnolia bridge, outside of Indian Mound, because we both misread a .1 mile cue as a 1 mile cue, was pretty uneventful. There was an occasional dog racing out to bark at us from the edge of the property, but none threatened to follow or seemed particularly disheartened when we told them to "stay home" in our best basso profundo alpha bitch voices.
One of the last stretches was along a quiet country lane, smaller and quieter than most we have been on, in an area of obviously older established farms. At one an older gentleman was out working on his vidalia onions with the assistance of a little girl who turned out to be his grand daughter. We admired his tomatoes and onions and he told us about moving onto the land and working as a dairy farmer until he retired. It is the moments like this when we meet and interact with locals that really begin to define the difference between driving through and riding through.
By mile 75, feet, knees and seats were ready for the ride to be over. We passed by a pick it yourself strawberry farm that had a whole fleet of minature tonka toy type tractors which Janet wanted a picture of, a petting zoo and rows and rows of raised bed of strawberries, all looking ripe and gorgeous. We asked if Linda the cook had stopped by with the van, and when they said no, we decided to buy a couple of quarts of picked strawberries. We were just in the midst of trying to figure out how to carry them the last miles on our bike when a reporter from the local paper showed up, both the interview the owner of the stand, and because she had seen our bikes and wanted to know who, what and how on us. She very kindly offered to carry the strawberries into town and deliver them in the evening, as she had made arrangements with someone, to have dinner and talk to the various women riding for charity. So at some point, I may possibly also be notorious in Hammond, LA.
It ended up being a 90 mile day and had it not been for the cool headwinds it could have been a pretty miserable day, but as it turned out, the headwinds and passing clouds moderated the temperatures and humidity and it turned into a long but delightful day. This is not to say that I am in anyway ungrateful for the fact that tomorrow's ride will be shorter, or that this is the next to last day with mileage above 80 miles. the body is definitely beginning to feel worn out and not so quick to recover.
today's stats
mileage 92.46
ride time 6:26
speed 14.3 mph
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