Google maps really does take me to strange places. I turned off the main road, and started biking along a winding residential street near the southern edge of Lake Ray Hubbard. That's when I hit the first "road closed" sign. I naturally ignored it, and moved on, only to hit a road barrier with a second "road closed" notification. Of course, I ignored that one too, and biked another 100m or so. I had soon learned why those signs were there. It seemed that the road was indeed closed.
It turns out that the road was closed to build a bridge.
As I approached the construction site, looking for a possible way around it through the bush, a construction worker whistled, the tractor moved back, and the worker told me to walk across. "It's just dirt," he said, "you can walk the bike across it." He helped me lift it so that it would not slip in the dirt, and we carried the bike across the cleared passageway.
And so, I continued biking. After a few minutes, I reached the place I was supposed to turn left onto the spine a dam and to cross the lake. Unfortunately,
A man was mowing lawn behind the fence, and, after long minutes in the hot sun of waving my hands around, he finally noticed me and came by. I'm sure any reader is familiar with the story of the road guardian and the traveller, seeking passage. It's a tale as old as private property, where the worn traveller asks a golem/troll/king/knight/black knight/angel of death to pass through. In this story, the guardian did not ask me three questions/challenge me to a duel/demanded blood sacrifice/offered an ironic exchange, but rather went to ask his supervisor.
A few minutes later, the man came back with the bad news. I could not pass. And now, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one hand, I was blocked from the back by construction. On the other hand, Google maps said that the road I was on was a dead end. The man behind the fence told me that there used to be a wooden bridge at the end, connecting the road to the rest of the world, but that it was burnt down by some careless teenagers a few years back. He also told me that Google was wrong about the dead end.
Indeed, it turns out that this road was a part of a new development, and that the dead end was already connected to other roads through a network of eerily empty suburbs that were still under construction.
And so, after returning to mapped routes, I continued on my way to Dallas.
I'm city person. I've lived my entire life in cities, and I think that it's a lovely life to live. I like that things are close together, accessible, and bustling. I enjoy the convenience of food, water, and shelter, and the proximity of social interaction. If I am plopped right into any high-rising metropolis in North America, or even Europe, I feel right at home. Unless I'm trying to get somewhere on a bike.
Today was very difficult for me; physically, mentally, but also emotionally. I biked 150km in the hot, unclouded sun, up hills, and along long country roads. But I've been doing that for weeks now, and that is not what broke me. What broke me today, was having to ride my bike in a city for the last 20km. Baton Rouge should have been my warning, but at the time, I was focused on the storm as the cause of my troubles, when in fact, it's a more general problem.
The physical exhaustion of biking in a city comes from having to stop all the time. I needed to stop for stop signs, street lights, tight turns, cars, pedestrians, and, most annoyingly, to look for directions. You see, I have never been to Dallas before, and I was relying on Google maps to send me to Sharad's (the friend I'm staying with) house. The Dallas area has no grid, and after the gymnastics of earlier that day, I was pulled through a maze of parkways, small roads, and bike paths. I had to check the map every two minutes, and still missed about a quarter of my turns. I'd really like some advice on this if anyone can offer anything.
That's where the mental exhaustion comes into play. No matter how much energy I put into the bike, I'm still missing the turn, or I still have to stop. It feels like all of my efforts are squandered. I can never tune out to enjoy the views, or to notice the city change from neighbourhood to neighbourhood, because I'm too busy squinting at faded street names, or trying to find a place to stop and look at a map without being killed by texting drivers. There are no shoulders in the city.
Also, this shit doesn't help:
All of this hurts me on the inside. I thought I loved cities, and I really did think that some of them can be bike friendly. I'd always thought that I can pretend to be a car, and obey the law, and that biking in cities can be fun. But then all of this happens. I realize that I'm a hot mess of misery, and that I can't stop anywhere, because then I'd have to lock my bike, remove valuables from bags, and all the things us urbanites know must be done. If I need to go to the bathroom, I can't just lean my bike on a post and pee on a tree. If I need to eat, I can't just sit on the concrete, lay my bike on the curb, and start making sandwiches.
In some sense, a city is more of a desert than the country. Biking on the highway, there is a good place to stop every 20km. In Dallas, there are no good places to stop.
Now, I might be too harsh. When I got to the Dallas city limits, I was very hungry, sunburnt, sweaty, and had just biked for six hours. I also really needed to use the bathroom. Still, I think that there is some truth to my groans and moans about cities.
At least I got to my destination well before sunset, and had time to go to dinner, bubble tea, and to just chat it up with my host. Thanks Sharad! You're a wonderful person!
I took a lot of pictures of flowers today. I just thought they were especially beautiful in the sunrise. Here's some pictures of flowers and sunrise, in no particular order.
I took the following picture only because of the etymology of sine
I've seen many of these things by the side of the road, like the one I saw in Mississippi - small shacks with smokers selling BBQ:
I also saw some of their products
I'm not sure what's going on here, but for some reason these trees sticking out of the water really creeped me out
And finally, after driving back from dinner, I saw a well-known logo
