Team 242: Day Fifteen

Day 15: Canton, Mississippi to Port Gibson/Vicksburg, Mississippi.  79.60 miles.

79.60 miles!?!  That's practically a rest day around here.

The Port Gibson/Vicksburg exists because we ended our day in Port Gibson on the Natchez Trace and made the north drive to Vicksburg and the church that is hosting us.  The requisite 242 chalking exists near the Trace/US 61 interchange.

I will borrow (steal) the Natchez Trace Parkway words from the National Park Service: "The Natchez Trace Parkway is a 444-mile drive through exceptional scenery and 10,000 years of North American history.  Used by American Indians, "Kaintucks", settlers, and future presidents, the Old Trace played an important role in American history. Today, visitors can enjoy not only a scenic drive but also hiking, biking, horseback riding, and camping."

Today, I was unable to enjoy a scenic drive, hiking, horseback riding, and camping.  But I did enjoy biking.

10 years ago we tried to enjoy biking on the Trace from Jackson, Mississippi, but the first 50 miles (probably more) of the road was torn up and rough grooved gravel took its place.  Eaux enjoyed using one of the bridges for an unstated need, but for the rest of us, it was tough going which made noticing the exceptional scenery and 10,000 years of North American history near impossible.

And then this year we were excited because the Trace has now been completed through Jackson.  We would no longer need to wind our way through the streets looking for the place where we could pick up the Trace.  Two negatives to this: 1. This year we wouldn't have to scramble up the side of a hill to make our own entrance ramp.  2. I wouldn't need to ask anybody if they knew where we could find Monroe street.  (Ergo) I would go without, "Monroe?  Monroe?  I done none hear of no Monroe."

But... after one mile on the newly completed Trace through Jackson we came across construction barrels and a Road Closed sign.  Maybe I would get another chance at Monroe directions, but as we contemplated what to do we observed a local bicycle rider ignore the sign.  And upon closer inspection, in addition to the Road Closed sign there was a smaller sign with a bicycle on it and an arrow indicating that bicycles were allowed on the closed roadway.  After a brief conference with Liz (as our super support driver, the road was still closed to her) we followed the local's lead and entered onto the closed road with worries of grooved gravel.

To borrow from the Park Service again: "The National Park Service will be closing an 8-mile section of the Natchez Trace Parkway to vehicular traffic on March 14, 2012, due to a major safety hazard that has developed near milepost 94.8 between Ridgeland, MS, and Clinton, MS. Engineers have identified the potential for collapse of the roadway due to instability in the embankment."  The potential for collapse has turned into actual collapse over one small section.

I didn't take a photo of the construction signs.  I didn't take a photo of the collapsed section.  I didn't take a photo of Eaux's bridge.  I didn't take any pictures until there were only a few miles left on the day and I had the realization I was without any picture proof of the day.

And as I sit here typing trying to remember what I did that kept the camera away, I am without specific memories as to why.  I can guess.  So here's what I think I think (always subject to change):

During laundry discussions with Karen in Carbondale, she mentioned one of her research sites that had a small pool of water remaining.  In the water were small catfish that kept coming to the surface.  Karen said she probably watched them for over five minutes before discovering that time had elapsed and she had research she needed to be doing.  I think the same sort of thing happened today on the Trace.

I remember listening to birds.  I remember watching ants at one of the rest stops.  And I remember deciding I was going to try to not look at my bike computer and when I looked again 9.67 miles had passed.

I'll borrow one more time, but now from Colin Fletcher: "...blurred, now, into a pleasing tapestry of grass and space and sunlight."

Track 11: Ben Howard - Promises.  Who am I?  Could be a burden in time, lonely.  Who am I to you?