It was Lundi Gras morning. I was riding with Janis Hazlett (Mama J.) in her minivan. Our mission for the day was to cycle through the Military Park in Vicksburg. We had left our cabin at Natchez State Park early, and after a short stop in Port Gibson, we were driving up U.S. Hwy. 61 when we passed a lone cyclist. As he pedaled up one of the highways long inclines, Janis made a comment about how dangerous it was for him to be riding on a busy highway without a helmet. I agreed as he quickly faded from view behind us. Little did we know how much time we would spend with him over the next 48 hours.
The Motley Krewe consisted of about twenty members this year. The plan was for everyone to do their own thing in the morning and to meet at the entrance of the Military Park for a group ride starting at noon. As Janis and I toured the Coca-Cola Museum, the guy we had passed on the highway, the guy we had all passed, steadily made his way toward his destination-the Vicksburg Military Park! Back at the park's entrance, as we assembled our bicycles and prepared to make our siege on the formidable hills beyond the gates, our new friend rode into the parking lot. Several of us recognized him as the lone, helmet-less cyclist we had all passed on the highway.
In his pleasant British accent, he told us his name was Bob Winstanley and that he was from Birmingham, England. He had flown to South America and was about midway through a six month cycling journey that would take him through Central America, across the Gulf Coast, and up the Eastern Seaboard to his final destination-New York City. Although we had not crossed paths there, he had also spent the last few days in Natchez, and had ridden his bicycle up to Vicksburg just to ride through the Military Park. We invited him to ride through the park with us, and offered to lighten his load by storing his panniers in Michael Brody's van (his bicycle, including all of his gear, weighed 85 lbs.!) After a fantastic ride, we invited Bob to join us for dinner at our favorite Vicksburg restaurant, where he entertained us with his adventures on the road.
After telling us he was headed to his sister's house in Florida, Mama J. insisted it would be better for him to come back to Natchez with us, spend the night in our cabin, and head out to Florida from Natchez. Carol Roeder had suffered an injury before the Mardi Gras Getaway and couldn't ride, so she and her non-cycling friend from California, Mary, were planning to leave early in the morning, hoping to catch most of the Mardi Gras festivities back home. Before the night was over, we had convinced Bob, that even though we had left town to escape Mardi Gras, he had to go with Carol and Mary to New Orleans. He agreed (there's no point in arguing with Mama J.,) and after one final ride on the Natchez Trace Pkwy. on a beautiful Mardi Gras morning, she and I bought his bicycle back with us in her van.
Carol and Mary took Bob to see Argus in Metairie and then to the French Quarter. After and long and exciting day, they all retired to Mama J's house for the evening. I picked Bob up there on Wednesday morning and drove him out to the NASA facility on Old Gentilly Road. We said good-bye, I took one last picture of him next to the rocket booster, and told him he was living out our dreams. One of the things he really wanted to do while he was in the Louisiana/Mississippi area was ride on a paddle wheel riverboat. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. Sounds like a good reason to me to come back for another visit!
Reprinted from the Spring 1998 issue of the Crescent City Cyclists
newsletter.
Copyright ©1998 Crescent City Cyclists Bicycle Touring Club,
Inc.
All Rights Reserved.