Tennessee Rain

The last few days have been the toughest of this trip. The MRT route is proving difficult to follow, for a number of reasons already listed in the previous post. Also, the distances between communities and campgrounds are longer than I'm accustomed to. A couple days ago I suffered a bad headache due to dehydration, since I pedalled 50 miles without finding a little gas station or general store to fill my water bottles. This situation has happened once or twice on the TransAm route, but those maps warn cyclists of the long gaps between services. (In those cases, I fill my 3 liter Camelbak reservoir in addition to the 3 bottles on my bike).

I remarked previously that reading the MRT guide book was like sitting in a bar with the author. It's a good thing that I am not anywhere close to him, and that I don't know where to find him. There are several times a day when I want to punch him in the face. If I ever do meet that man in a bar, I'll be thrown out of it for starting a fight.

Today I ditched the book altogether, and opted instead to ride on the busy, 4-lane highway 51. My decision was influenced by the fact that I didn't sleep well last night due to a lighting storm (and getting up in the wee hours of the morning to relocate my tent, all my belongings, and my bike to drier ground). The rain lasted the rest of the night into the morning, and I knew I didn't want to be camping again, if I could help it.

So, the options were: stick to the MRT route and bike 65 miles to a campsite, OR cruise 70 miles on the highway straight into Memphis and stay in a hostel that someone had recommended. I figured that pedalling all day through the cold wind and rain was going to be miserable either way, and I'd rather end the day with a hot shower and a bed than with a soggy night in the tent.

The ride was downright scary, at times. Most of the way I was on nice wide shoulders, but a few spots had none at all. The trucks and cars kicked up so much water from the road that even when it wasn't raining their windshield wipers were whipping back and forth, and I knew their visibility was compromised. I felt inconspicuous with just my little rear tail-light... I dreamed of a big, flashy dayglo raincoat and a large neon sign over my head: CYCLIST -DO NOT HIT.

I finally arrived in midtown Memphis just at the start of rush hour. Unsure of how to get to the hostel, I pulled into a wine shop and took refuge under their awning, fumbling my phone with icy hands to take a look at Google maps. "Hey, do you want to come in?" I turned to see a woman holding the door to the shop open. "You must be frozen!" I tried to refuse on account of being filthy and wet, but she was insistent.

She held the door open while I maneuvered Miya (that's my bike) inside. My hands were so cold that I dropped Miya sideways a little, and we almost took out a shelf of wine bottles. Close one, I thought. "Sorry, she's never been in a liquor store before," I said to the woman, who didn't look alarmed that I referred to my bicycle as "she".

The woman's coworker turned out to know all about the hostel and how to get there. While he wrote up the directions on the back of a receipt, I stood in the warm, well-lit little shop as soft jazz music filled the air and customers mosied along the aisles. I was painfully aware of my muddy face, matted hair, and the pool of water collecting at my feet. Everyone just kept smiling at me and being kind... it was more refreshing than any snack or drink could be. Fueled by their kindness, the 6 miles to the hostel flew by. It turns out that the fellow in the wine shop gave great directions, and I found myself wishing that someone like him could have written the MRT guide book. Or at least edited it.

I highly recommend this hostel, to all who seek lodging in Graceland! It's called the Pilgrim House, and is located in a funky, hip neighborhood in midtown Memphis. They keep lodging cheap ($15 per night!) by asking each person to do one chore daily. And the place is cozy, quiet, and spotless. AND there's a free "make-your-own" pancake breakfast in the morning. Totally worth the 70 mile slog.

Thank you, Tennessee. :)