Day 31 - The Gulf of Mexico (in the distance)

Departure: Wiggins, MS      Finish:  Moss Point, MS    

Distance:    75.2 miles

Elevation gain:  1,527 feet 

Winds: From the South - 7 mph.

Weather:  High, broken clouds. 55 degrees at departure. 75 degrees at arrival

On bike duration:   4 hrs, 51 minutes. 

Average speed: 15.4 mph

Total Accumulated Miles:  2,375

Got our first glimpse of the Gulf today; from the top of the bridge over the Pascagoula river. Until late today, our route has been too far north in Texas, Louisiana and Mississippi to see the Gulf.

We had lunch at the picnic tables of the Mississippi Sandhill Crane wildlife refuge. I went into the visitor’s center and spoke to a man who was very passionate about the Sandhill Cranes and their migratory path. I told him that there was a national wildlife refuge very near my hometown. He said “Which one is that?” When I told him Quivira, he said, “Oh, I’ve been there! It’s a wonderful place for both Sandhill and Whooping Cranes!”

I didn’t take many pictures today, because it was mostly just like the last three days - beautiful, forested backroads, with very little traffic, good pavement and light winds. However once we got to Gautier, Pascagoula, Kreole, and Moss Point the traffic picked up and we had to cross two very high bridges. The second bridge - over the Escatawpa river - had a lot of debris on the narrow shoulder that I barely dodged, and a very nasty expansion joint on the back side, toward the bottom. Three members of our group got a flat tire from that expansion joint.

By the way, the Pascagoula River is also called “Singing River”. According to legend, the peace-loving Pascagoula Indian tribe sang as they walked hand-in-hand into the river to avoid fighting the invading Biloxi tribe. It is said that on quiet nights you can still hear them singing their death chant. (according to nature.org) 

At Moss Point, Dennis’ accommodation of choice was the Hampton Inn. It is just like the Hampton Inns I have stayed at in Siloam Springs, Arkansas and Pecos, Texas - and last night in Wiggins, MS.

At dinner tonight I passed "Rita" on to the next worthy caretaker. I decided it should go to Tom Hand, the pilot in command of the tandem land yacht. I was concerned about creating a presentation worthy of the previous transitioning ceremonies we have witnessed. Two nights ago, I spent about an hour dreaming up a poem that I could read as if Rita had written it. I have attached it below. There are many "inside" references that only people on the tour would understand. I hope I will remember them years from now as well.

A poem

For the dramatic, transitory dispatch between

 rider and rider, of an erstwhile lifeless plush toy

        -  written by FloRita:

I appreciate the effort you all have made, transporting me to Florida without getting paid.

I never worry about weather or safe travel. You point out the potholes and always yell out “gravel!” You’re all faithful and true, and I want to thank you for returning me to the swamp and my hovel.

I don’t eat your humus, or your turkey or your cheese. I have different tastes to chomp on, like your arm, if you please. I didn’t use your Hammer powder. I don’t have any ears, so you don’t have to stammer louder. 

In fact, it’s the quiet one I like, but more on that later. You see,  I’m really not that needy for a Florida Gator.

I appreciate the care each of you has shown me. When this is all over, maybe sometimes you will phone me. 

But, mostly, it’s about the journey. And making sure you and I don’t end up on a gurney.

So, again I am thankful cause I couldn’t pay for a tankful to get me this far, in a truck or a car.

But there is one thing, and I know it might sting, to hear what I have to say. Although most of you’ve held me, and most of you weld me onto your bike in peculiar ways, you really don’t get me and don’t understand what I’ve dreamed of all of these days.

You’ve given me an honorable place with the wind in my face, and strapped me onto Rahul’s garage. You kept me warm in your hotel, and I enjoyed it, very well, though you didn’t include me when you took a massage.

But that’s not the rub that’s bugging me. That’s not the cause of my enmity.

I’m a little bit hurt, and although it sounds curt, I’m sure I told Dennis at the start of this gig, the one thing I want most is to get to the coast on the front of a two-wheeled Big Rig.

It’s true, sometimes he slows, but I’m quite sure he knows who won the race between the turtle and the hare. So, if Tom Hand can stand me I’d like Keith to hand me to that tall, quiet man over there.