The Last Laps

After the rain subsided and we finished watching Brazil dismantle North Korea along with their ever so patriotic fan base, George and I (Peter) set out to finish off the 85 mile day to Tim's Ford Park. The thunderstorm had subsided, but the rain was still quite heavy. This made the descent rather tricky, but we braved the long downhill. We were rewarded a few thousand feet later with a rainbow, clearing skies, and - best of all - flat land!! The flats had George and I cruising for the last 20 miles, which we knocked off in a little over an hour. Ahead, Ty, Conway, and Capel set up camp at Tim's Ford. Once we were all there and settled, we jumped into Tim's Ford to cool off. That night, George challenged mother nature again, and came out dry, again. We began to think that rather than insult the weather, he had some odd control over so. So we promptly began to blame George for the increasing heat we faced in the rest of the trip.

The next morning (Wednesday), we got up extremely early to avoid said heat. We jovially packed the van and wondered how obnoxious our crack of dawn rise was to our fellow campers. Short of 7:15, Ty, Conway, Capel and I set out on our bikes with George driving support after his long day. The heat was rough even in the morning, but we pumped out a quick morning 30 before having breakfast in Petersburg at a country store called Tina's. Everyone there was really kind and took an interest in our trip. However, we made a pretty critical error in allowing ourselves to be hypnotized for an extra hour by "The Price is Right" (sans that awful Bob Barker) along with the rest of the population of tiny Petersburg. In the heat of the day, the foursome struggled another 30 miles due west to meet George at a gas station 30 miles north of our destination, Davy Crockett State Park. We all went inside to cool off in the AC while Ty hit on the attendant to score us some complementary ice and water (in actuality, gas stations along the way were awesome about letting us fill up the six gallon jugs that we went through all day. Ty just had a thing for the high schooler on duty at the Phillips 66 that day). After the break, Capel and I finished the ride, meeting the team at Davy Crockett Park. Capel and I iced our legs in a nice little brook by the campsite while George waxed poetic about Crockett and Texas. Since it was our last night camping out proper, it was only fitting that Capel and Conway managed a "no match" fire and we all cooked exorbitant amounts of raman and meat ravioli. Too full, we all slept soundly before another early morning wake up (it should be noted that despite ominous afternoon clouds, George told the team not to waste time setting up tarps because it wasn't going to rain.. he sold Capel on the idea. Sure enough, they both woke up dry).

Early early on Thursday, we gobbled a quick breakfast and hit the road to find the Natchez Trace and our ticket home. We were getting up earlier and out faster since we could leave directly from campsites and didn't have to account for five people riding in the van. The morning ride was a slow warmup, but we had still covered nearly 20 miles by 9 when we hit the Trace. We used backroads to get to the Trace, which led to two interesting events. Firstly, Ty and Capel ate it on separate occasions in the loose gravel of the country roads while trying to get clipped in. Thankfully, no one was hurt and we were all able to conquer the second event by getting off our bikes and climbing up through the woods to get onto the trace from a gravel side road. Once we were on the Trace and dusted off, we formed a proper draft line and really got moving. We were pulling 21 mph easy for 1.5 hours. We did take a small break to leave the Trace and refill our water in Collinwood. There we met several good old boys who let us know which hills to look out for on the Trace. When we told them what we were up to they quipped, "That's longer than we like to be in a carfur." This, of course, begs the question as to what exactly a carfur is. Sorry. Anyway, after burning through another stretch of the Trace we had squashed 50 miles by 11 when we met Conway with the van where the Trace crosses ALABAMA state highway 20. We loaded up and scooted into Florence where we had some margarita's and mexican food to watch Mexico beat an imploding French side 2-0. We got directions from a cropduster to head back towards the Trace and Ty, Conway, and I set out to finish the day. It was hot, we didn't pack enough water, and the 20 miles we thought we were riding turned out to be 30. They always say the penultimate lap is the toughest, and it sure enough held true. What kept us moving was the ever-closer Mississippi state line. When we finally rounded the corner and saw the beautiful sight, cries of ki ki ki kiiiiii immediately illuminated the early evening. After a brief photo-shoot, we three amigos then gritted out the final 7 miles to Tishomingo State Park (which is quite well-maintained and beautiful, made us proud to be back to Mississippi even after all the stunning parks we'd visited). Awaiting us was quite the treat. George's dad, Dr. Schaff brought cold lemonade and warm ribs to nourish we weary travelers at a cabin rented by Mr. Tom Howorth and Mr. Guy Gillespie. These two arrived shortly after we did with cold beer, barely beating a massive thunderstorm that lasted well into the night (shortly after one of the initial claps of thunder, George predicted rain for the evening and declared his intention to sleep on the front porch).