DAY OFF IN DAUPHIN ISLAND, ALABAMA

Dauphin Island, Alabama

Crossing over the huge arched bridge it felt like we entered another world. At dusk it was a a glorious sunset with the sky starting to clear while the remaining western rays sprinkled glowing yellow splotches on the murky bay water. It was a calming feeling to walk along,scraping and scrunching the bottom of my bare feet along the fine-grained sandy beach. Our condos were right on the water.I kept my window open all night so I could hear the gentle slap of the waves and the cries of the gulls as they circled about.

To welcome us to the state of Alabama we had our usual margarita. For dinner, Linda prepared a spicy jambalya with shrimp and crawfish, rice,and corn bread and salad. For dessert, there was a special and sinful Paula Dean recipe of “Not yor Mama's Banana Puddin” that was a creamy caloric delight. I spent a good deal of time reading a book, The Ten Year Nap by Meg Wolitzer.

I awoke fairly early on the morning of our rest day, and walked down to breakfast at the Oar House just down the street. Afterwards, I ventured across the street to the beach access for a long lazy walk in the quiet of the morning. Tiny arched patterns of variety of bird tracks guided me to the shore where impressions of scalloped waves were gently etched into the slope along the water line. I was alone walking and enjoying the solitude accompanied only by the company of the birds around me.

I felt a little sad that more people can not or do not take the time to stop and notice the ripples in the sand dunes or the flicker of running feet of the sandpiper. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of the various birds around me and the lap, lap, lapping of the water with the breeze whipping the ends of my hair into my face and snarling it again.

I feel a little sad as I know this remarkable journey that I have been on is starting to come to an end. My routine, the bonds, the food, the sights I have seen, or heard, or smelled will change again soon. I remember the enormous and meticulously maintained homes oozing with prosperity on one side of the street while in another part of town or further down the road on the other side I remember dark, hopeless, and more desperate lives of humans and animals in shacks or trailers just trying to make it through one more day. I remember the Apache Reservation land that was dusty, devoid of water, desolate and brown in sharp contrast to the bright green growth of the farms only miles away that had access to the water with its power and potential.

I remember the purple colored mountains that majestically rose up in the distance,the hundred year old saguaro cactus that stood on the ridges welcoming us though the desert. I recall the sight of the dusty clay red of Louisiana grasses blowing, and I can still hear the never ending roar of the wind in my ears from the hills of Texas.

I recall the vast openess of so many places in Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas, the powerful muddy Mississipi,the ferry crossings, the bridges, the back roads, the highways, the pecan trees that arched over the roadways. I recall the bumpy ride on chip seal that we traveled over and the numbing sensation in my hands. I remember the euphoria of climbing 8,8842 feet to Emory Pass and completing my first century ride and the sense of pride for taking a risk and doing something unique.

I cling to the spirituality found amongst the massive pine forests and of the rock formations that have been there for eons. I wish to hold on to the peace, serenity and balance that I have rediscovered. So many spectacular images of places and people from this journey across the southern tier of the USA.