Mississippi Mardi Gras

Mississippi Mardi Gras

    Mardi Gras morning dawned with the pitter patter of disappointment.
    Parades, what parades? I was planning on going in the exact opposite direction from parades. The plan was to meet up with another crazy somewhere in mid-Mississippi. From there we would ride into the thick of the state, him pointing out the Ripley Believe It or Nots and various historical points of interest. I was due to be led, ogle and take pictues like the lazy tourist I am. Up until the last moment, the night before, we had been looking at forecast and watching radar, e-mailing our lastest observations. It was looking bad and I had tossed in the towel on the outing, him letting me make the call. Coming down with pneumonia was all either of us needed, I rationalized.
   Pitter patter increased to a howl on the roof of the camper. I felt wise and resolved and very bummed out. I'd been in this box for two days waiting for a chance to ride this ride and it wasn't happening. In fact, neither he nor I had been astride two wheels in two weeks, enduring the unending horrible weather.
   About 9:30 the rain let up, the fog still thick. I walked into my daughter's house and proclaimed I was leaving, expecting pleas of "don't, the weather is too bad". Not a chance. They were ready for me to get my foul self off the property. I kissed my wife, telling her that it might be the last time. "Oh, well" was her whispered reply.
    My bluff had failed. The bike waited. I doaned my yellow school crossing guard Walmart rainsuit. Traded my boots for my faithfull black rubber high waters with steel toes. I was ready. The temperature was nearing the high 60's headed for the mid 70's.
    Under the yellow I had my leather jacket just in case I became horizonal on the slick pavement or mud. It was warm. Not being cold was great.
    I aimed the bike northeast toward the gateway to Mississippi, Bogalusa. I would go until I got saturated and then return, tail between my legs. I figured this trip to last about 3 miles. I decided not to try to reconstuct our plans as we would both have to travel over a hundred miles round trip to the rendezvous. A gamble.
    I knew a few town names from our talking and if I saw them show up on the gps, I'd take a look.
Otherwise my plan was to bend eastward and then westward staying below US 84 which would be my
route back across the Pearl River setting me up for a ride down Ms.287. Then I would hook up with the shute that I knew into Louisiana.
     At this point let me say, all the riding I have done in Mississippi has been extremely enjoyable. The part I've seen is awing in so many categories.
   This ride would do nothing to mar that reputation.
           I suggest you visit and ride, ride, ride.

Never let this stop you. It is fog. Fog "burns off" except in Great Britain and San Francisco. Another day at the office, riding Mississippi in the winter.

From MS 26, I head north on 43 and looked for my first back road. This is it. It went back to 43 where I would try again. No problemo, senior.

This road started off beautifully paved. Then, it changed. The red Mississippi clay had a wet shine to it. I saw a disasterous sideways slide in my near future. The expert back road rider I was going to be with today suggested staying away from these roads. The views pulled me forward and I noticed NO problem directing the bike where to go. I believe it was a well traveled road and it was packed. Later I would find the "well traveled part" very true.
A Wildlife Management Area is always a good sign you are getting away from the parade. Immediately I saw a deer. I was in the forest.

It was getting time for a little break and I decided, returning from my break, that it was time for the obligatory motorcycle picture proving I did not walk this adventure. What lay ahead was sand. A long straight stretch of sand. In summer it could have been "difficult", even for my "seasoned" self. Today, wet and packed, it was white asphalt. Up ahead, reveling in the fact that the crossing was a none issue, I stopped to take the shot below. A semi had been following me. Me, did not notice him. He swung around startled-stopped me in the middle of the road. I could see his head shaking and mouth moving. Oh, this is a truck route, no wonder it is so smooth and packed. Almost packed with me. Now I don't stop in the middle of any road.

Just before the truck came around. You can tell, it's not blurred.