Day 4

I woke up off and on throughout the night, partly from the lower than expected temps and partly from sleeping on just the rocky ground. Around 5am, I decided I had enough, and started packing things up so I could get on my way. Since it was so cold, I stayed in full gear as I put away the tent and strapped it on the bike with the rest of my gear.

With the sun barely up, I was off, ecstatic to finally be on schedule. I pulled up the day’s track in the GPS as I navigated out of the park. Moments later, I had dirt and gravel passing beneath my tires as I began the Trans-America Trail. After a few miles, I stopped underneath a railroad trestle for a photo opportunity and remembered my rear brake issues. It still worked, but I didn’t feel like stressing the zip tie more than I needed to.

Shortly later, I reached a state highway and made a decision: even though the Eastern TAT is considered easy, my limited skills off-pavement weren’t good enough to overcome a crippled motorcycle. I would stick to paved streets, but would still follow the basic TAT route as best I could, intersecting the trail in various spots as I went.

And so I traveled across northwest Mississippi, through one small town after another, many the size of only a couple of city blocks. Several towns looked like ghost towns, while others I felt would soon become one. In many, I noticed that the post office was not only the center point of the town, but it would be the nicest building the town had. As I rolled through each, I wondered what people did for a living, reflecting that while I hated several aspects of living in a city like Washington, I could never live in a town as small as Crenshaw or Lula.

I soon left Mississippi for Arkansas, and as I crossed over the river, I realized that while I’d crossed the Mighty Mississippi well over a dozen times in my life, this was the first time I could remember making the crossing by a route other than I-40. Despite that though, I’d still be taking the interstate into the city. I tucked in once more as I merged onto the Interstate. Much like the Washington Beltway, I-40 speeds topped 80mph. While I liked the time I was making, I hated the wind pushing against me. Just outside the city however, I had my reprieve, forced to a stop as traffic backed up into the distance. Luckily, an exit was beside me, and I cut over to take it. There, my luck ended as I traded one traffic jam for another. Several minutes later, after covering barely a half mile, I saw a Best Buy and jumped at the chance to get out of the traffic, justifying the detour as being the perfect time to replace my lost GoPro.