Our Only Bike Ride

Since we’d not been riding for a couple of months, we spent time in Gueydan gradually getting the bikes ready. We’d also ordered a pair of Ortlieb waterproof front handlebar bags.

Chelsea had eventually figured out how to install them, while dealing with those appallingly awful Ortlieb instructions and fighting off hordes of mosquitoes. We were dying to ride with the new bags (they were wonderful!).

Starting way back in Delray Chelsea and I began having severe sleep disturbances, resulting from overwork and too much time-deadline stress.

No matter what we’d do, we’d lie awake until three or four in the morning, but still awaken early. The lack of sleep made things much worse.

The sleep disturbances were hard to kick. We still had them after several weeks in Gueydan.

Some of our best memories of Gueydan from 2008 and 2009 were of our bike rides, so we couldn’t wait to get back out on the road. We’d set our alarm to get up and head out on a ride. We had our bikes ready; we had our clothes ready; we had refreshed our memories on the routes to take.

But we’d lie awake as usual. By the time four o’clock rolled around and we were still awake, we’d shut off the alarm and hope for sleep.

Finally it worked. Our last Wednesday in town we actually went to sleep and got up in time for our first and only bike ride.

We’d been getting up at four-thirty in Delray and riding very early, but the roads were consistently in good condition and we often had streetlights to help light the way. We also knew the roads like the back of our hands after several years of riding them almost daily.

Feeling optimistic, I set the alarm so we’d be out on the road before sunrise.

I knew immediately we’d made a mistake. We’d had to keep the bikes outside, locked up under a tarp. That’s the good news. They were protected.

The downside was that the mosquitoes loved the cover under the tarps. It was now pitch black, chilly, and we had to remove tarps with a flood of mosquitoes, unlock the bikes, and get out of there, still slapping at mosquitoes.

It didn’t get better. The roads were awful, rutted and potholed with crumbling edges. We couldn’t see more than a few feet. Our headlights were virtually useless in the near total dark.

Adding to our misery, the pre-dawn bugs were out in full force. Attracted by our bike lights, they slammed into our faces and chests with intimidating frequency. Lest you think these were merely gnats, think again.

This is south Louisiana where even mosquitoes are the size of turkey vultures. I was afraid I’d have facial bruises by the time the sun rose.

We crawled along, keeping our mouths closed against the bugs, keeping to the center of the road, blinded by the headlights of the occasional pickup truck, waiting for the sky to lighten, determined that we wouldn’t repeat this mistake!

Once it got light, being back out riding was incredible, just as we’d expected. Starting before sunrise we saw hundreds of white-faced ibis stretching across the horizon in long lines.

We’d forgotten how many hawks live here, and how big they are, but we were amply reminded on this ride.

We did our twenty-three miles, riding down Wright Road, our old favorite. Right near Hansford and Lynn’s home we spotted a breathtaking array of birds feeding in the crawfish ponds – roseate spoonbills, white-faced ibis, broad-faced mallard ducks (also known as spoonbill ducks), dozens and dozens of cardinals, sandpiper types, and cormorants.

We were frustrated that the roseate spoonbills and white-faced ibis were backlit, because we’ve been dying for the perfect roseate spoonbill photo for a few years now, but it’ll have to wait till another time. We did manage a few somewhat decent photos, though they are a bit impressionistic.

Though the crawfish ponds were our high point, we continued throughout the rest of the ride to see cardinals, mockingbirds, killdeer, white-faced ibis, cormorants, and even spotted a belted kingfisher.

We felt like we’d come home after a long absence.

Sailing Again

Since by that time we knew we’d be leaving soon, we arranged to meet up with Paul Cassity, our sailing and travel adventure buddy. Much to our delight he was available for Wednesday afternoon and wanted to take us sailing.

The winds were great for sailing, so Paul encouraged me to take over the wheel while he relaxed. Though a bit tense from so much time away from sailing, and not being too experienced anyway, I did manage to last at the wheel for quite awhile, holding on till just shy of our turning-around point.

Chelsea was still feeling rocky, and wasn’t in the slightest bit up for dealing with the lean of the boat in the wind, so she spent the time down in the hull, enjoying the alone time.

Being out on the water was, as always, a total body and mind cleanse. The sun, the wind, the water, the movement, the air, the views – it all seeped in gradually, relaxing us more than we’d been in ages.

As in times past we stopped by the nesting grounds over near the Yacht Club at the end of our day’s sail. As in prior years, the area was flooded with dozens upon dozens of nesting great blue herons, great egrets, and cormorants.

The area was so crowded, Chelsea remarked that the nests were stacked up on each other like high-density condos in South Florida.

Paul is an incredibly good sport and knows our love of birding, so he maneuvered the boat carefully in place to get good photos.

The elements conspired against taking awesome photos, though. The was boat rocking in the slight waves, with Paul needing to keep adjusting position to avoid the cypress knees and trees in the water. We couldn’t always get into position to see birds, and the nests were up much higher (farther away) than our lens could manage.

We needed a longer lens (it’s on our wish list), and we were taking photos against a backlit sky, but we did get enough salvageable photos to give us a good memory of the day.

Our hands-down favorite was an in-flight photo of a Mexican squealer (black-bellied whistling duck). Chelsea even caught a pair of wood ducks and great blue herons in flight.

Pleasantly tired after the time on the water, Paul ran us into Lake Arthur for a shrimp po’boy take-out dinner, then headed back to Lake Arthur Yacht Club to eat our po’boys and to see his incredible photos of recent trips to the Galapagos Islands and Mexico.

The drive back to Gueydan was a bit eerie that night. The sky seemed unusually black, the road seemed rougher than ever, and we ran over something big in the road. Whatever it was cracked and crunched under the tires.

Not even five minutes after the crunching incident our entire windshield was suddenly filled side to side and top to bottom by a gigantic owl. It came up from nowhere, scared the bejeesus out of us, and disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving us shocked and a bit shaky.

We did make it home safely. Paul chatted with us for a few minutes, leaving at midnight after teary hugs and good-byes and promises to see each other on the road somewhere.

It was now midnight and we’d been up since well before dawn, but we’d had the best day we’d had in ages.