Apparently, I was closer to civilization than I’d realized, because when I climbed out of my tent the next morning there was a house within eyesight that I hadn’t noticed in the dusky evening. I was fully clothed upon exiting the tent, so no guns were brandished and no arrests were made.

The morning started off very foggy. At the first store I saw I bought three small apple pies for a dollar and a large orange drink. After filling my water bottles I took off again and shortly thereafter reached the legendary Natchez Trace Parkway, a haven for bikers. On it, there’s a 50 mph speed limit, sparse traffic, a prohibition of commercial vehicles, and large tree-lined sections which provide shade. Unfortunately, I was only on it for 35 of the 85 miles I rode today.

Along the Parkway there are also numerous historic sites, including Boyd’s Site, an ancient Native American Indian burial mound. 

In spite of the heat I made good time to Jackson, and just as I took my last swallow of water I saw a place to refill my bottles and get something to eat… a Pizza Hut. I seem to sense a pattern here.

While eating a few pizzas, I met Sherman Scales, an ex-Jackson State football player, and we talked for about thirty minutes before he had to leave. 

Considering the roads I selected, sometimes I wonder exactly how much traffic has increased since 1982. In Jackson, I rode on Interstate 220 (I made mention that “there was no place to stop on I-220”), then transferred to Interstate 20. Were my maps just so bad, with so little detail, that I couldn’t see that I could’ve continued on the Natchez Trace Parkway for another ten to twelve miles? Was the traffic so minimal that taking the larger, more direct routes wasn’t problematic? I don’t know.

Just west of Clinton I stopped on a bridge to rest and a man in a truck pulled over on the shoulder, then backed up.

“Howdy! I seen you way back at Mile Marker 50. Man! That’s somethin’ else!  You tired? You wanna toss that thing in the back of the truck and enjoy the AC for a few miles?”

At that point, I was feeling pretty good, both physically and emotionally.

“I appreciate it, but I kinda want to do as much as I can on my own.”

“That’s cool…” then he added, 

“You want a beer?”

I thought about the fact that I’m probably pretty dehydrated, and what a beer would do, especially to a lightweight like me. I smiled and responded,

“A beer would probably kill me right now, so I better not.”

We spent about ten minutes talking about my trip, and before he left wished me good luck and safe travels.