June 16, 2023
Day Four: Columbus-Belmont State Park to Portageville, Missouri
I slept alright in the tent, waking up only a few times. Both times I believe that it was my own snoring that woke me up. Ironic!
I got everything packed up quickly and rode the quarter mile to town.
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The great store from yesterday was not open yet. I really enjoyed hanging out there. Such nice people.
Another place in town, a café named Jen's, was open. I didn't feel like eating breakfast - I just wanted a cold soda pop - but when I walked in and told the owner that, he handed me a bottle of Diet Coke and refused to charge me for it. I mentioned the closed ferry at Hickman, and, like the people in the store yesterday evening, he advised me to find a local man with a fishing boat to take me across the Mississippi.
I headed out for the eighteen miles to Hickman. It was another great early morning ride.
After five or six miles on traffic-free highway 123, I exited onto a series of back roads, some paved, some gravel.
This was probably the best riding of the trip. No traffic at all, cool temperatures, and the scenery that I favor.
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I arrived in Hickman (population 2,365) after about eighteen miles on traffic-free backroads. Hickman was a tidy-looking town. For years I'd looked at it on Kentucky maps, slightly fascinated by its location in the very westernmost county in the state.
My first stop was at a restaurant, where I knew, from many years of experience riding bikes through small towns, that there would be a table of old men sitting and bullshitting.
I walked in and announced to the men that I was on a bike and needed to get across the river. How could I accomplish this?
After a few false starts - a suggestion that I ride farther down the river and cross the I-155 bridge, followed by arguments among the men about the illegality of that ("There's no bikes allowed, nor farm implements neither!") - consensus was reached that I should ride down to the boat ramp and see if anyone was getting ready to go fishing.
So I did that. There were no boats at the ramp, but there was a man sitting in a mail truck, looking at the river.
He was the mayor of Hickman, Heath Carlton.
He called a friend with a fishing boat, described my dilemma to him, and arranged for his friend, whose name was "Big Country" ("You'll see why when you meet him") to take me across the river in his fishing boat.
While I waited for "Big Country" to arrive I looked around Hickman some more.
"Big Country" soon arrived with his boat. I offered to pay him for the trip, but he refused to accept anything. I was too weak to lift my heavily laden bike into his boat, but he managed it easily. The dude was strong.
The trip across the river was fun. I put on the life jacket lying in the boat after Big Country mentioned that a man he knew had drowned after a fish flew out of the water and struck him, knocking him out of his boat. I initially had my doubts about this story, but then observed fish leaping into the air as we sped across the river. "Asian Carp", Big Country explained.
We arrived in Missouri. I offered once more to pay him for his trouble, but Big Country, who is a very nice man, once again declined, but did accept my thanks.
I spoke to some people on the Missouri side of the ferry landing. They hadn't heard about the closure of the ferry, so I delivered that bad news, then rode off.
It was very hot now. It was a long, flat, almost completely shadeless ride to the next town, New Madrid. There was virtually no traffic until I reached the town.
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1 year ago
I only took a few photos in New Madrid. It was very hot now, and I was hungry.
I walked into a Mexican restaurant, where I ordered too much food, and found that half of it was inedible anyway. Maybe I was just too hot.
I eavesdropped on a table of workers. They were discussing the requirement that they share motel rooms while traveling for their job, and the personal quirks of one of their fellow workers: "He'll walk out in nothing but his tightie-whities!" - "Yeah, it's like, dude, just put it away". This struck me as hilarious, coming from these tough-looking guys, and I laughed out loud before I could catch myself.
I left. It was ten miles to my destination for the day, the town of Portageville. I'd originally hoped to make it to Arkansas today, but that obviously wasn't going to happen. About half of the ten miles was on gravel and dirt. For some of the time, the interstate was in view. It felt a little strange to be riding on such rough roads so close the busy freeway.
The nicer of the two motels in town was full, unfortunately. I checked into the other one, which was pretty dire. The TV didn't work, the microwave didn't work, and only one of the lights worked in the dim room. But the WiFi was good, and the air conditioner was adequate. I retired at 8:00, with no real plan for where I was going tomorrow.
Today's ride: 64 miles (103 km)
Total: 282 miles (454 km)
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I also liked the quiet roads leading to it from Hickman. There wasn't much traffic, but I remember noting in my journal about the special waves I got from several of the drivers I did see: Two fingers raised casually from the steering wheel, with a cigarette planted between the fingers.
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I can't remember ever reading a tour journal where the rider crossed there. That's probably because the ferry is apparently extremely unreliable, and closes if the slightest thing is wrong (water too high, water too low, too much silt on the landing, etc. etc.)
1 year ago