Riding the White Line

Epilogue for 1987 Tour

UNDATED

As I recall, I headed north and east from Red Rock Canyon to Winfield, Kansas, home of my friend, Susan R., and birthplace of Dawn Wells, who played Marianne on Gilligan’s Island.

I got to see her, Susan, that is, for a little bit, stopping in to catch her at the Winfield High School and then running around with her in the afternoon. I rode from there to Coffeyville, where I got a hotel room again. Next day, I headed due east across southern Kansas.

My goal was to go all the way to Branson and do a 150-mile day. I had been observing the weather and knew I would have wind behind me. I also thought I would have a flatter road than I did, but nonetheless, I flew across the countryside, getting to Carthage for lunch. I was hoping I would bump into Allison P. or Sarah P. No luck.

By late afternoon, I was into the hills of the Ozarks again, trying to make Reed Springs by nighttime. No luck. I ended up pitching the tent in a desolate stretch of woods along a creek. It was a good spot. The trees, the night birds, the smell of river, the sound of water.

I selpt cold, but well.

Next day, the roads were busy with traffic to Branson and Silver Dollar City and Table Rock Lake, but somehow I made it back to Kamp for another summer in paradise.

Red Rock Canyon

Above, the view from above Red Rock Canyon down on my campsite; and, below, ducks on a pond reflecting the sandstone at sunset.

April 20, 1987

I took off from OKC and headed west to Red Rock Canyon State Park, about 60 miles west of Norman. I imagine the canyon was very beautiful at one time. Now the state park has invaded every corner and the original form has been lost.

From Texans to Okies

I think this is where I crossed the Red River.

April 14, 1987

I followed the winds to Oklahoma City and am staying with Tyler T. and Mitch F. Today, Tyler, Gayle and I went to lunch. It sure was nice to see her. I’m hoping to take her to dinner and a movie tomorrow night. She’s going to Austria for seven weeks this summer to study history and German. I envy her. I’m sad she won’t be back at Kamp.
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We did, indeed, go to a movie: Raising Arizona, which was riotously funny. At dinner with Gayle, though, I felt shy and reticent because she is so pretty. How in the world I am getting to have a date with her while out on a bike ride I will never know.

Next day, Tyler and I did some rock-climbing on a variety of buildings around the OU campus. He had already sketched out routes on several of them, mostly concrete, but some with stone as well. I tried following him on a couple of his hard routes and peeled off immediately. My legs and feet could handle the work, but my arms and fingers aren't primped for staying on nubbins.

Nearly Blown Away

Clouds rise from the Kiamichi Valley, the rugged setting for 'True Grit.'

May 3, 1984

Had planned to write yesterday, but, well, things got a little out of hand.

It did rain all night on the first. It broke enough in the morning to give me hope, and I set off for Queen Wilhelmina State Park in Arkansas.

Started raining again within hours. The highways between Beaver’s Bend and Queen Wilhelmina are fairly desolate. I ate lunch at the only burger joint on the whole 65-mile stretch. It was a room no larger than a good-sized bank vault, but I had on good cheeseburger and one delicious malt.

Back out into the rain, I made a long, slow climb over the Kiamichi Mountain and had my first encounter with fog. It wouldn’t be my last that day. Fast run down the mountain into the Kiamichi Valley and by Big Cedar. This valley is supposed to be the one that the book and movie True Grit are set in.

I immediately began climbing again. The rain had finally broken off. I kept climbing and climbing. Reached Oklahoma Highway 1, Talimena Drive, and I did some more climbing, this time on grades of 13 percent.

Only two cars passed me the whole time. This was a lonely stretch of road.

Had a flat about half-way up. (Number 6 for this trip.) Put on a new tire as well as tube and kept going. More fog hit as I reached the top.

Every once in awhile, a break in the clouds would come and I could see down into the valley.

The Kiamichi valley is spectacular, especially with all the wisps of low floating clouds running up against forest green mountains of pine sprinkled with light green hardwoods.

The day was physically exhausting. Back-breaking climbs combined with cold, pounding rains left me weak.

Darkness fell before I made the Arkansas border. I wasn’t afraid of cars because of their infrequency, so I kept on going till I got to Queen Wilhelmina State Park. I had to quit looking forward for awhile. The painted stripes appearing out of the darkness and fog were trying to play games with my mind. I kept my view downward at the pavement.

I found a campsite near some Winnebagos. I pitched the tent, still wet from the night before, tossed the sleeping bag inside along with a sweater, jeans and food, and crawled inside.

All I wanted was to be warm and prone.

Just after climbing inside, a storm hit. Winds of magnitude force and searing rains battered my tent. The arch of the tent poles was forced downward to the point that the tent ceiling was touching my chest. I was scared at first. I’m rarely scared. And then I said to Hell with it! If I die tonight, I die.

Within 10 or 15 minutes, the end of the sleeping bag and tent were soaked as well as my feet. I slept with my knees doubled up. I woke several times from their stiffness.

I’m told a tornado passed over us last night. The wind was terrific with lightning splashing all about. At times, I thought the whole tent would be swept away.

This morning, the sun snuck out for about an hour. I had everything out and hung up trying to get things half-way dry when the fog rolled back across the mountain. I packed everything soaking wet onto the bike and struck out for Mena. Rain started falling within minutes. I came down off the mountain dripping wet, looking like a drowned rat, and stopped at a visitors center just west of Mena.

The caretaker there talked to me a little about pacifism, brutality to animals, and the fact that some humans seemed less than human, and then said: “Of course, you know we’re not descended from apes.”

I cruised on into Mena, found a laundromat, and washed and dried everything save what I was wearing.

A kid, maybe 4 or 5 years old, came up and asked me if I were saved and whether I had Jesus in my heart. Strange. Got the laundry done. Packed the bike, and a man, about 55 or 60, strolled over and asked me where I was headed. Then he talked to me about his experiences in Japan and Korea.

He told me about going in after the bodies of the dead. And of being captured. And of how some of his friends had been killed.

This town is a little off base. Know what I mean. I rode out of there east along the Ouachita River and have stopped at Dragover Recreational Area for the evening. Sunny skies all afternoon and a wind at my back made the traveling wonderful.

The Ouachita is rolling. I’m told it rose 8 feet today from all the rain that has been falling on me.

Last note, I stopped at the Jot-Em-Down General Store at Pine Ridge, Ark., made famous by the Lum and Abner radio show of the 30s and 40s. I’ll have to go back sometime just to look at all the memorabilia.

Across the Red River

The hill country of the Ouachitas.

May 1, 1984

The next morning I rose early. The rear wheel on my bike needed truing something horrible. After about a half hour of adjusting spokes, I had it fairly near straight.

I also ran some oil through the chain and took out some of the squeak created by Sunday’s rain.

Riding was fairly nice Monday. Not much wind to speak of. I took it easy all day long and still made Clarkesville fairly early.

Stayed at the AOK Motel and walked up the highway to the Pizza Hut for dinner.

My ride that day took me through such noteworthy cities as Paris, Reno and Detroit.

From Clarkesville, I have come north into Oklahoma to Beaver’s Bend State Park. It’s a pretty state park located near Broken Bow.

I watched all day as first cirrus, then stratocumulus, and then cumulonimbus clouds slowly crept in from the south. I knew it would rain.

As soon as I got into the park, I pitched the tent, covered the bike with tarp and headed for the showers. While I was bathing, the rain began. I’ve since taken refuge in a small picnic shelter to write and think about life.

Through Southeast Oklahoma

April 26, 1984

The ride south from Lee Creek to Talimena State Park was relatively uneventful. Lots of wind and then the Ouachita Mountains at the end of the day left me fairly beat.

I was really looking forward to a shower at the state park, but alas, they had no water. That also meant little to drink.

I did have the wonderful opportunity to talk with a woman who was a member of Loners on Wheels. She had just returned from three months in Mexico where she and two other friends had driven their RVs down to the Yucatan.

She was encouraging to hear. Their group had only minor problems while south of the border. It gives me more desire to ride from Alaska to Chile.

Charlie at Bonham State Park.

Anyway, from Talimena, I rode down to Antler where I grabbed a room at the AOK Motel. Cost a bit too much, but I needed a bath!

Fought fierce winds again out of the south. Followed an abandoned rail bed for 20 or 30 miles; thought it would make a marvelous bike path.

From Antlers, I rode down to Bonham State Park in Texas, only 65-70 miles from Dallas. Tried to get lost several times, between the map and my stubbornness, I almost ended up nowhere.

But I am here nonetheless.