12/21/2014
The excitement for the road returned to my feet. I was ready to ride the wind at the crack of dawn. When I ran out of fresh shoes, aches crept into my body. It was then that this adventure began to lose its luster. My mental and physical health had always been tied together so both needed to be in tune to conquer such a journey. But, before I could hit the road, I still had to expel the waste from the trailer.
Through several states I had been fortunate enough to capture shots of various wildlife. On day 112 I had brought my camera to add some photos to my collection. A shot of a live alligator eluded my camera but I did get a few cranes. They cohabitated mainly in the swamp but I did notice that some of the birds seemed to have adapted to life next to huge refineries. I never realized there were so many oil refineries in this state. It made sense when I spotted gas prices as low as $2.05.
The sprinkles came in small patches throughout the day. The light rains barely contributed to the dampening of my clothes. The gear was already soaked from sweat. I followed a dank scent all day long. The scent changed when I took a lunch break at the trailer. Crystal made somen noodles with an array of vegetables that encompassed almost every color of the rainbow. I filled my stomach and took a short nap before finishing off the day. My new shoes had restored my speed and allowed me the midday respite. We ended after the huge refinery town of Norco. With no accommodations booked it would be another parking lot night.
The rain fell harder throughout the night but still in patches. It sounded as if Monday, day 112 was going to be rained out. As luck would have it the day started with a little fog but once I began running the sun broke through. The wetness in the air was incredible. The shirt flew off and allowed my body to breathe. New Orleans was only twenty miles away. As I closed in on the city, the little swamps and streams gave way to concrete and pavement. Reminders of the Saints super bowl victory popped up frequently along my route. While I made my last push of the day, Crystal drove around the crowded streets of the French Quarter in search of a parking spot for the huge trailer. It was not to be found. She turned onto one tiny one way street after another. She abandoned hope of finding a place to park and just circled until I reached a designated meeting spot.
Running through the French Quarter was an assault on my senses. The scent of southern food permeated the air with the occasional olfactory intrusion of a urine scented vagrant. Traffic and blue notes moved in between the people. Jazz was everywhere. I ran shirtless past hundreds of tourists and past the Olivier House Hotel and finally found Crystal.
I hopped into the truck and we drove to a parking lot. The fee for recreational vehicles was one hundred bucks. We were not about to pay a hundred bucks to park. Instead, Crystal got on the phone and began to search for a place to park way from the densely packed city. The precious minutes were ticking away and I began to worry that we wouldn’t be able to experience the sights. I wondered if I had arrived early for no reason. Luckily, Crystal found an RV park a couple miles away, willing to let us park for a few bucks.
When we got to the park, a sudden downpour of water, rained on the trailer. Again I questioned my timing. Panicking would have been premature though. It seemed the weather played a practical joke on me. The torrential downpour stopped just moments after it started. The sun shined brightly and I was ready for the New Orleans experience. Returning to the Olivier House Hotel in the French quarter made me giddy. I knew I was in for a real treat.
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