Day 5: Eupora to Tupelo

We decided to skip the Hwy. 82 ride this morning, and instead took a lesser-traveled road that required repeating 2.5 miles of the Trace. No big deal, though. The day started out cloudy, but the sun came out around noon and overall it was a very pleasant, warm day.

Shortly after we got on the Trace, we passed through a roughly 8-mile stretch that had been hammered by a tornado in 2011. (The tornado blew through the entire state.) While nature is restoring the area, the havoc the tornado wreaked is still evident (see photos below).

On a happier note, we hit mile 222, the halfway point. Yes!

Slowly, the fall colors are becoming more and more evident. We were told the colors were great north of Tupelo, so we're excited to start seeing that. When we left home, the colors were a week at most from peak color. By the time we return home, we'll have missed peak color, so I hope we can catch some great color down here.

Mile 266 was the Tupelo Visitors' Center, which is the main visitors' center for the Trace. The center has fantastic displays on the Trace, a movie and gifts, plus knowledgeable staff. The only disappointing note for the day was that there was no good way to get to our hotel, La Quinta, about 3-4 miles away. We were faced with busy roads without shoulders. The visitor center staff, park ranger and locals all gave us different advice about the best way to get there. Between walking our bikes, cutting through parking lots and braving four-lane roads without shoulders, we made it! But we booked two taxis for tomorrow morning that can take us and our bikes safely back to the Trace.

Staying tonight at La Quinta, a wonderful place. Right across the street is South, a higher-end restaurant with great food and I think the best wait staff I've encountered in my life. From the server to the bartender to the owner to the maitre d', everyone was beyond attentive. And the food was great!

Day 4: Kosciusko to Eupora

When a woman back in Clinton heard we were doing the Trace south to north, she kept exclaiming, "You're going uphill all the way! You're going uphill all the way!" I didn't think too much about it. None of the materials talk about a huge elevation change. Well, this morning we were eating breakfast with a local woman who said, "Now the hills will be starting! Well, really once you're past Tupelo." Hmm ...

So far the Trace has been hilly all along, but all of the hills have been really long (a half-mile to a mile) with a very gradual incline. It's interesting because you don't really notice the hills visually when you're pedaling up. You just start feeling tired, and like you have dead legs. Then, as you near the top and really have to slow down, you realize, DUH, I just pedaled up a hill. Going downhill, though, it's easy to tell because with gravity you really pick up speed. Today we had more of these same hills, but also a handful that you could visually see, and that were reasonably tough.

Highlights today started with French Camp. That's the name of a city. It got that name because some French guy started an inn, I believe, for people on the Trace years ago. People began calling the area around the inn the French Camp, and the name stuck for the city. Today there's a Christian boarding school in French Camp. They support themselves partly by running a cafe and B&B along the trace. They also have a small museum on the grounds, along with lots of artifacts from the French Camp era. Interesting place.

The next highlight was Jeff Busby, a park that has a trail winding up to Mississippi's second-highest point, where there's a scenic overlook. Ed and I had lunch here, then hiked up the path and enjoyed the view. It was another cloudy day, so we couldn't see all that much. Still, it was pretty.

Next was another short section of the Old Trace. I always love walking on those. Got some good photos, I think. An elderly couple stopped there to read the historical marker, and were so impressed that we were biking the whole Trace. It's funny how many people think this is such an epic project. Yes, 444 miles is a lot to bike, but we're taking 7.5 days to do it. I'm sure "real" cyclists with cleats and good bikes and all that could easily do the Trace in 4-5 days. Oh well, I'll take the compliment! (Although another person lauding our effort added that we weren't "that young.")

I couldn't find lodging right on the Trace, so we'd secured a cottage B&B in Eupora, a town 7 miles away. Ed was getting a bit saddle sore, and nervous about tomorrow's 67-mile day. So instead of taking the longer, but safer, route, he said we should bike on Hwy. 82, the direct route. Well, that turned out to be a 4-lane highway with a gravel shoulder that was too bumpy to bike on. Luckily it didn't have a ton of traffic, so we biked in the right-hand lane as far over as we could, and all of the motorists who passed simply drove in the left-hand lane. Still, it was unnerving to be biking on a highway, so we pedaled as quickly as we could. I think we were averaging something like 18 mph, just trying to get off of it as quickly as possible. Ed says we should take the longer, safer route back tomorrow, even though it will mean re-biking 2.5 miles of the Trace.

Dogwood Cottage, where we're staying, is a beautifully decorated inn. The friendly owner, Carol, even offered us the use of her washing machine, which was much appreciated, as our cycling duds are in need of a good washing. But Eupora is in a dry county, so no celebratory beer or glass of wine tonight. For us Wisconsinites, a dry county is hard to imagine! ;)

Day 3: Clinton to Kosciusko

We'd heard from other cyclists that biking around Jackson on the Trace was "white-knuckle biking" because so many locals use the Trace to get to and from work quickly. There's one section where a recreational path roughly parallels the Trace, and materials tell you to use that when the traffic is bad. Luckily we were heading out of town at 7:30 on a Sunday morning, so the traffic wasn't that bad. We could have used the recreational trail, but stayed on the Trace for authenticity's sake.

I'd planned a day of about 75 miles of biking, which would be the farthest Ed or I had ever biked in one day. (Just the way the available lodging options fell.) Fortunately, there weren't as many stops along the way as there could have been. The first highlight of the day was hitting mile marker 100 (triple digits!) and then 111 (one-quarter of the way completed!).

Actually, in between those two was the beautiful Ross R. Barnett Reservoir, which is 50 square miles, I believe. There was a pretty overlook, although it was cloudy at this point in the day so the view wasn't as beautiful as I'm sure it could have been.

Next we came upon one of my favorite stops to date, Cypress Swamp. As its name implies, it's a cypress swamp. It was just gorgeous (see photo below). A little trail wound around a small portion of the swamp, so we had fun exploring that.

We started getting sprinkles on and off. The road was pretty flat after the reservoir, and we didn't have many stops, so we figured we should try and knock off the miles in case the rain was going to increase. I think I actually figured out how to draft off another cyclist. I tucked behind Ed, and we just got into this groove and really pounded out the miles.

At one wayside, a mini bus pulled up and it was some folks from SATW, who had come from the travel writers' conference like we had. They were on a post-conference tour called "Cities Along the Trace," and they were exploring a handful of cities from Natchez to Tupelo. Fun!

Ed and I reached Kosciusko, our destination, relatively early (3:30). Kosciusko has a great Visitor Center right off the Trace, and we learned all about the great Polish General Tadeuz Kosciuszko (the city modified the spelling) after which the city is named. Kosciuszko was a military genius who helped the colonists beat the British in the Revolutionary War. He also founded West Point or something like that.

That night we stayed at the Maple Terrace Inn, a nice B&B in the heart of downtown, and celebrated our mileage.

Day 2: Port Gibson to Clinton

Another sunny, beautiful day. The first few hours were pretty cold; when we first started, it was 40. The Trace was also very shady, which didn't help. But we warmed up quickly.

Almost immediately, we came upon a famous part of the route: the Sunken Trace. While much of the old Natchez Trace trail has disappeared due to time and development, a few parts remain which you can walk along for a short bit. The Sunken Trace is famed because it's 30 feet deep, the old "highway" worn down by so much traffic and I suppose erosion and other natural factors. It was impressive to see.

Later we came upon Rocky Arbor. This is the site of a former thriving town that dwindled to nothing due to a number of reasons. There was a 1-mile section of the Trace you could walk here (we did), plus some city ruins to see.

We met and saw a number of interesting people today. At the Sunken Trace, we came across a group of about 5 septuagenarian couples, all driving Corvettes. They were friends, and one wanted to drive along the Trace. We were leaving when they were arriving, but they quickly zipped past us. With their gray hair and tiny cars, it reminded me of the Zor Shriners in a parade.

Two couples rode by on enormous, tall bikes. The woman had a huge American flag flying behind hers, and she called out, "Friends! Hello! Hello!" A few hours later, we ran into a 71-year-old man who said the couple had helped him with his bike chain the previous day. This man was just one more day away from a thru-bike of the Trace. He'd only started biking three months ago and decided to thru-bike this route. He said the first day he rode 82 miles, and the next day 72. Ed and I have been a bit nervous about one upcoming 95-mile day, but if a 71-year-old (who was not in shape) can pop off 82 and then 72 miles, we can muddle through 95.

Tonight we're staying in Clinton, a charming city on the edge of the capital city of Jackson.

Day 1: Natchez to Port Gibson

Ed and I drove from my conference in Biloxi to Natchez this morning. The trip took about 3.5 hours. We stopped at the Natchez Visitors' Center. Natchez, by the way, is known for its wealth of antebellum homes turned into B&Bs. Kinda wished we'd stayed the night here so I could try one! The Visitors' Center had a mural proclaiming this the Southern Terminus for the Natchez Trace. But interestingly, you access the start via a highway ramp, and then there's just a sign proclaiming this is the Natchez Trace. No special sign or rock or anything saying it's the Southern Terminus.

We unloaded our bikes and were getting ready to start when we saw a couple biking towards us. They were from northern Alabama and had been section-biking the Trace for several years. Because there are no shuttle services on the Trace for bags, they'd drive about 20 miles down the Trace, then bike back about 20 miles, then back to their car again. The next time they came, they'd pick up where they left off. Today, they were finishing the Trace. Because of their system, their finish actually  meant they'd biked 888 miles and simultaneously completed a southern- and northern-bound bike. WOW.

The man was so excited to see us, because we could take their photo. They'd been trying to figure out how to prop up their camera and use the timer to take their own photo. They said the picture we took was so important to them, and would be framed, because this was such a long, Bucket Trip item for them. This encounter made our start all the more special.

Today was a beautiful, sunny day in the low 70s. Ed and I biked from about 1-6 p.m., stopping at the historical markers and seeing some cool stuff. Like Emerald Mound, one of the largest Native American mounds. And Mount Locust, a historic plantation. Traffic on the Trace is limited to 50 mph, and while there was a reasonably steam stream of cars, it was great biking. I saw more cyclists and motorists stopping to read all of the plaque than I would have expected.

Tonight we're staying at an awesome B&B in Port Gibson: Isabella B&B. The rooms are spacious and shabby-chic, and they have a restaurant, so we had a fantastic dinner. Several other couples were here tonight, including one from England and another that had been deer hunting today.

Countdown to the Natchez Trace!

Trails sure do get in your blood. I finished the 1,000-kilometer Vía de la Plata Camino a few years ago — it's an ancient pilgrimage trail in Spain — and am halfway through running/hiking it a second time (I hope to do the second half in spring 2014). And of course I just did our spectacular Ice Age National Scenic Trail. So now that I'm heading to a travel writers' conference in Biloxi on Sunday, I figured I had to stay an extra week to bike the famous Natchez Trace.

I'd rather hike a trail than bike one, but the Trace is different from the other 10 National Scenic Trails in that it's a parkway that roughly follows the route of the original Natchez Trace. So you can either drive the route or bike it, but there's no hiking. Well, there are some spots along the way where you can get out of your car or off of your bike and hike a mile or so on the original Trace, but there's no continuous, off-road route. Still, it looks beautiful, and it's historic, and I'll be right there, so of course I have to do it.

For those of you who have never heard of the Trace, or have heard of it but don't know what it is, it's a path that was first carved into the earth hundreds of years ago by Native Americans and buffalo traveling between what is now Natchez, Mississippi and Nashville, Tennessee. These primitive trails were enlarged a bit to form the southwest's first national "highway" after the U.S. government negotiated treaties with the local Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians in 1801.

Yes, there was a lot of commerce among the pioneers back then. And yes, there were plenty of pioneers in this part of the country. But the Trace was hardly a state-of-the-art road. It was a dirt path where oppressive heat, mosquitoes, swollen rivers and mucky swamps made journeys even harder. It was difficult to find a place to sleep and eat, and if you broke a limb or came down with an infection (of which I know a thing or two), well, you just might die. Still, it was all people had, and they made great use of it. Such great use, that the innumerable footsteps of past pioneers left enormous trenches in the land that time has still not erased. 

So I'm putting the final touches on my itinerary and am seeing what snacks I have left from the IAT that I can throw into my suitcase. (Thank goodness I have a few Seroogy's candy bars left — those are definitely going with me.) Will I be recovered enough to bike 444 miles after just running/hiking 1,100? Well, there's only one way to find out!

Re-entry

So here I am, five days post-trek. What's it been like?

Well, the first afternoon back I had to go grocery shopping, as my husband doesn't eat much more than frozen pizzas or sandwiches when I'm gone. Not to be melodramatic, but it was kind of overwhelming and stressful. First, I spied Christmas decorations everywhere, which made me stress about how I wasn't prepared for the holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. There's so much to do for those, especially when you're the wife/mom. Then the wide array of food and other merchandise seemed silly, I guess. Unnecessary. I don't know. I missed the simplicity of the trail, and of my days: wake up, eat, walk/run all day, bathe, eat, sleep.

Sure, maybe there's some pressure when you're trying to cover 'x' number of miles a day. And maybe there's some stress when you're alone on a remote trail, or lost, or worried about running into a bear. But it's nothing -- nothing -- like the pressures of life. Bills to pay, homes to clean, food to cook, work to do, kids to care for. Holidays to plan for! I don't generally feel stressed by my life, but I've noticed that whenever I embark upon a long-distance trek, I feel very carefree. Being immersed in nature all day helps your psyche immensely, too.

And stray comment: Have you heard how they're now saying sitting is the new smoking? Or something like that. In other words, sitting all day is bad for you. Really bad for you. Guess what I do? Sit all day, first at my computer, then at the piano at night. My lower back and piriformis are chronically sore, as are my shoulders and upper back. Guess what body parts never hurt me at all during my five weeks on the Ice Age Trail? Yes, I got lots of blisters and lost some toenails. And, of course, had two infections. Still, I'm sure my body was happier those five weeks than it is now.

I miss the trail.