Nowhere Else

I arrived on schedule on October 11, 2007. I pedalled 2,097 miles from Times Square in New York to Jackson Square in New Orleans. I have been back now for two weeks and, when looking back, I can think of no other way to have covered that distance other than on a bicycle. It was 2,097 miles of baptismal head-clearing. I got exactly what I was looking for-- the chance to see the change in landscape, people, and attitudes on a daily basis the closer I got to the city. It was also a geographic and mental transition where I had to tell myself that the New Orleans that I was going back to was not the place that I grew up in.

I had returned to New Orleans 6 times since Katrina, but I was merely a tourist to my old identity. I came back from time to time to be the old me for a few days and then return back to New York. Everything from here on out is now my new reality, and I look forward to embracing it fully.

I now feel a completeness. I no longer search and hope. Parts of me feel like I was more a New Orleanian when I was away from the city. Everyday I read articles online from the local newspapers and followed the progress of the city very closely. I wore a fleur-de-lis belt buckle to work in hopes that customers would inquire about it so I could hold a conversation about the city. But I was no more a New Orleanian then than I am now. It was just that being an ambassador for the city made me feel better... and talking about it made me feel at home.

I find that I think about other things more often now. Not because my proximity to the city has made me forget, but because I feel more complete. That void that existed in my heart has been filled. Katrina did a lot of terrible things to a lot of people, but it is up to the individual to find the meaning and purpose in everything, even catastrophe. If it were not for The Storm, I might never have left and learned just how much I loved this place and figured out what I needed to do.

It reminds me of a quote that I once read by someone named George Moore-- "A man travels the world over in search of what he needs, and returns home to find it."

2 days, 100 miles

I met up with my father a few days ago in Defuniak Springs, Florida. It has been a great time since as I have had some travel companionship for the last few days. While riding into Pensacola, he hit an orange construction barrel while going 18 mph and had asphalt for lunch that day. Picture number 1 is but one of his injuries from the spill. After busting out the first aid kit, we got him all bandaged up and pressed on to Pensacola. They don't call him Ronstoppable for nothing.

That evening after watching the Saints lose again, we spent the evening with my good friends Trevor and Cathy. After acting a fool for a night in P'Cola, we made our way to Dauphin Island just south of Alabama. It was another relaxing evening... but now the backdrop is beginning to look familiar. I recognize these places now. I realize that I don't much need a map anymore.

We are in Ocean Springs, MS right now and look to make it to Waveland tomorrow where we will meet with my best friend Baxter and my brother Andrew. The last night on the road, the last night in a hammock for awhile, the last night I might go without a shower after pedalling all day. I will miss it, but I am looking forward to going to sleep with the thought in my mind that I won't have to wake up and leave that amazing place I have found myself in that day. And that amazing place will be New Orleans.

A Turn to the Right

Pretty far along the way here now and a good bit has happened in the last week and a half. I have pedalled from South Carolina and made my turn to the right in a small town called St George, Georgia. I spent the night in the woods near a deer processing facility, in the poolhouse of an older couple that I met, in a marshland at Ocean Pond in Olustee, FL and at a bed and breakfast in Madison, FL where I met another interesting couple.

I left South Carolina continuing south and stopped in for an iced tea at a small antique shop in Kildare, GA. The woman who ran the shop asked me if I needed a place to stay and I explained that a bed and a shower is always better than sleeping outside. She put me up in the poolhouse (top) behind her place and they fed me dinner and breakfast. Her pool most likely being the only one in a 20 mile radius, she got her lifeguarding license at the age of 72 so that she could teach all the children in the area how to swim free of charge.

While riding through Hortense, GA, I stopped by a small shop that sold fried chicken in a small portion of a gas station. I ordered the meal, and the ladies who ran the counter asked me about the bike. I explained my story and told them that I was headed home. I was dressing up a cup of coffee and one of the ladies called me over palmed me a bill surreptitiously the way you might if you were requesting a good table from a maitre d'. She told me to have dinner on them that night. I thanked them both. Ladies, if you read this, thank you. I ate well that night. In most cases I would be reluctant to take this money, but I have thought long about the circumstance and situation. Giving the money made them feel good. It was a meal that would have otherwise been canned stew and instant rice... again. I know that they were happy to give that money, and I was thankful for it. So, again, thank you ladies. You are both wonderful.

The last few campsites have been very scenic and indicative of southern scenes. Live oak trees with spanish moss (second), cypress trees on a marshy lake (third). It has all been beautiful and a pleasant experience to watch the scenery change with the latitude.

I stayed in a bed and breakfast in Madison, FL where I met Rae and Steve. Rae is from New Zealand and has undertaken the mission, almost personally, of preserving the architectural history of Madison, FL. Old houses in the small community scheduled to be razed, she fought to have them go to auction where she and her husband purchased the homes at a low price and had the homes moved from their sites and onto their own plot of land within the town (fourth is a recent purchase not yet refurbished and bottom is a finished product). Rae, who grew up learning how to fix homes, oversees the repair and refurbishment of these old homes so that the town can retain its vibrant historic charm.

It was in St. George, GA that I made my turn. From that day on, my cyclometer no longer says "south" very much any more; it reads "west." I am in Tallahassee, FL staying with some new friends that I met last night through my cousin, Mike. Only about a week and a half now until I reach the final destination. If you aren't doing anything around noon on October 12th in New Orleans, perchance I'll see you there. I'll keep the blog up to date on any changes with the arrival date and time.

Days from Westbound

Just passed through Charleston, South Carolina. If you have never been there, it is very similar to New Orleans. I would like to include some pictures but I am once again at a public library so there is some difficulty in that department. I stayed with my aunt Patty and uncle Steve in nearby Summerville and had a blast for three days. I am noticing that the Saints don't bode well with my being on the road. I must return and bring some luck back to the Dome. Here is an article that appeared in the Charleston, SC newspaper:

http://www.charleston.net/news/2007/sep/26/new_orleans_bike_trip_makes_local_stop17137/

I pedalled south from Summerville to a small town called Kildare, GA. I met some folks at an antique shop who let me sleep in their poolhouse. They cooked me dinner and breakfast. It is always nice to get to know the people and the history of the area that you are passing through. I learned that the property had long ago been a turpentine farm. I had no idea turpentine came from trees. Ms. Caroline, one of my hosts, can never sit still. At the age of 73, she obtained a lifeguard certification so that she can run a summer camp to teach local children how to swim. She doesn't charge for the service. She makes trips into nearby Statesboro to continue her ongoing education in forestry. Pretty interesting folks.

I have noticed that each state has its own unique obstacles. The moment I arrived in Georgia, I think two lovebugs flew into my mouth within 40 minutes of passing across the border. Georgia - lovebugs. South Carolina - rain. North Carolina - headwind. Pennsylvania - hills. New Jersey - Newark.

The terrain is definitely changing as I go south. Live Oak trees covered in spanish moss are everywhere and the humidity is menacing. The heat gets a little worse by the day, but the daily change in latitude should come to an end in a few days. I turn to the west on Saturday afternoon when I get to Florida.

Anyone interested in riding the last leg with me, let me know. The more the merrier.

Questions Answered

I have found that most people whom I meet on the road ask a lot of the same questions about the trip. So I figured that most of you may have the same questions so I will try to answer as many of them that I can remember here.

1) How many miles do you ride per day on average?
-About 50 to 60. From here on out I need to ride 51.23 miles/day in order to make it to New Orleans for October 12th, the absolute latest day I can possibly arrive.

2) Where do you sleep?
-Wherever I can. I have a camping hammock and I most often sleep on the side of the road. Most often this comes with the permission of the landowner. But sometimes when it is getting dark I just have to set up on the side of the road out of sight. Other places I have slept are in a marina, the house of a people whom I met who were very nice, in a church, the houses of friends and family, the occasional hotel.

3) How long have you been planning this?
-About a year and a half.

4) How long is the entire trip and how far have you gone so far?
-About 2,000 miles total and I have gone 1,183 as of September 25, 2007.

5) How do you charge your cell phone?
-I charge the cell phone and GPS anywhere I can... usually at fast food restaurants while I grab a cup of coffee and read or write.

6) How do you let people know where you are?
-I send a text message with my GPS coordinates to my father when I go to sleep every night if I have to camp.

7) When did you leave?
-August 29th, 2007. The 2nd anniversary of the hurricane.


If anyone has any more questions, leave them as a comment on this post and I will try to answer them on this post.

Headwinds Blow, So Buck 'Em

Posted these pictures after the blog was written about 2 weeks ago. I
am about 70 miles northeast of Wilmington which puts me at about the
halfway mark.
Since my last post I have slept on the floor of a baptist Church in
Virginia, slept in the guest bedroom of an older couple in North
Carolina and stayed with friends on the southern tip of Ocracoke Island
on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. The generosity has been
overwhelming and the solitude has driven me to start a number of
conversations that I wouldn't have otherwise. Just the other night I
had a run-in with a group of folks that camp regularly in a small town
called Otway for the weekends. They pull in large caches of oysters
from the nearby saltwater creek and carry on in the evenings drinking
Bud Lite while telling stories about each other. I made a remark about
how good the food smelled as I walked by and that turned into 2 hours
of chargrilled oysters, bud lite, and steak. It was apparent that these
people rarely meet strangers.
One place that I have enjoyed thus far has been Kill Devil Hills right
near Kitty Hawk, NC. I am a pilot and obviously a bicycle enthusiast.
At Kill Devil Hills, two bicycle makers from Ohio flew the first
airplane here in 1903. If you dress like Elvis, you will most likely
one day go to Graceland. Muslims from Mecca to Medina. This was my
Graceland... a spiritual place.
I have taken a few ferries to get from island to island on North
Carolina's Outer Banks. A series of developed barrier islands, most
resemble that oh-so-common stretch of beach that is now seen these
days: stores selling hermit crabs, skim boards, hair wraps, henna
tattoos, and nets. The only exception has been Ocracoke Island.
Ocracoke is a 14-mile-long stretch of protected ground with a small
town at the southwest end with a population of 800. If there was ever a
typical island community, this is it. A small marina, an handful of
locally owned restaurants, shops, and groceries, a lighthouse, and a
populace where everyone know everyone is what makes this place unique.
Fortunately I was lucky enough to have friends to stay with as they
were able to give me a personal glimpse of what life is like in this
small town. Thanks Matt and Claire, you were excellent hosts; I hope
the wedding was fun.
Since the Outer Banks basically sit in the middle of the ocean, there
is a constant wind that blows. Somehow, the wind was a headwind every
day of riding. The apex of which when I arrived by ferry from Hatteras,
NC to Ocracoke. Ocracoke runs from northeast to southwest and as I
mentioned it is 14 miles long. The wind was blowing quite hard. When I
checked the weather, I learned that the wind was blowing directly in my
face form the southwest and that I would have to ride directly into the
wind for fourteen brutal miles. It was 14 miles of daggers shooting
into my soul; I almost fell down a few times it was blowing so hard.
But I made it, and the end was worth every pedal stroke.
I have pedalled 872 miles thus far. I can't wait to make the turn west
near the Florida/Georgia border. Hope all is well and I appreciate the
comments.
PS- Don't forget to donate
http://www.neworleansmusiciansclinic.org/donations.php

Almost Made It

So the big question on my mind was whether or not I would make it from Baltimore, MD to Williamsburg, VA in 3 days. I pedalled almost 80 miles/day for 3 days. I came up just shy and my sister picked me up from a Macdonald's in West Point, Virginia (about 20 miles from the target). I was able to see the Saints game (as great as THAT was) and have had a place to sleep these last few nights which has been nice. Before I go any further, I want you to know that I will be dropped back off at said Macdonald's to resume the trek from there.

Deprivation of everyday things such as social interaction, hot cooked food, and a bed at night are things that I have learned to appreciate in a way that I haven't before. A home cooked meal tastes unlike anything I have ever eaten. A bed feels softer than anything I have ever touched. And a conversation with a stranger is enough to keep me smiling for hours.

I have been at my sister's house the last couple of days, quite ahead of schedule, so I have been able to let the pistons rest for a few days. I got to watch the Saints game with my nephews which was great. Eating such great food, a lengthy visit with family, and a warm bed every night have almost been sensory overload as it has been such a great last couple of days. Tropical Storm Gabrielle is lengthening this stay by a day or so, but that is just fine with me.

Monday morning I go back to that same Macdonald's in West Point to continue south toward the Outer Banks of the Carolinas. Drop me a line if you know anybody in the area, I'd love to meet them.

N Y See ya later!

I left NYC from Times Square to meet me lady in Flemington, NJ. Tired as sin, we both passed out watching TV. The evening turned out to be exactly what I wanted of it… just a relaxing evening with m’girl.

I rode the next day and spent the night in a plum orchard somewhere near the border of New Jersey and Pennsylvania. I was positive I was keeping it on the slick, but the lady who owned the land spotted me while riding by on her bike. Noticing her mode of transpo, I struck up a conversation and she was more than happy to help me in my voyage. I set up my camp and she later brought me tomatoes and plums which were delicious.

I woke up and made an oatmeal breakfast, and after getting lost (as I have found often happens), I met a fella on a bike on a backroad in Pennsylvania. He offered to bring me on a roundabout journey back to my route; the only catch was that I would have to stay with him and ride his workout. I did. And he brought me to places that haven’t been on maps in years. Abondoned roads, covered decaying bridges, all of it. Some of the roads he claimed George Washington had used.

Trying to make it to Columbia, PA from the orchard proved to be a challenge. I fell short. With night falling, I asked a couple where a safe place to camp may be… winking at the nearby park. They directed me to a place which I scouted, and soon after a cop showed up. He explained that he could not let me camp in the park but he would bring me to a place where it was okay. I followed the cruiser to a boat dock on the Sesquehanna River and went to a secluded trail at the end of the parking lot. Upon his recommendation, I camped in the woods there, about 20 yards from some railroad tracks. I met another cop that night, Dave. We had dinner on the tailgate of his pickup… I cooked my noodles on may camping stove, he ate his Subway. He told me that he had been a bartender at Outback for years before he got into law enforcement. I told him about my years of table waiting and about the career in firefighting around the corner. We then realized we had a lot in common.

I woke up, made oatmeal, and started riding. I ended up around noon in a small town in PA where I met an old couple outside of a restaurant. I had originally intended on getting a cup of coffee and some fries while my phone and GPS charged, however they invited me to their table. Life on the road alone is lonely, so I was VERY happy to join them. They were an 85-year-old couple who had been married nine years. NICE AS CAN BE. They completed each others’ sentences as if they had been married for 50. I thanked them and bid them adieu.

That day I crossed the Mason-Dixon line and trucked on to make it to my friends’ place in Colora, MD; Chad and Sarah’s house. There it was that I took the greatest shower. I ate cooked food and appreciated it in a way that I never have before. Eating canned tuna fish, oatmeal, and fruit for days on end can start to make you go a bit crazycrazy. Cooked food becomes a blessing in a way that I cannot explain.

I write from my friends’ Jamie and Suzanne’s house in Baltimore. They are both wonderful people. It is the kindness and openness of people that makes this type of travel enjoyable. There are times when I question my decision to leave New York; I had a great life there. One that I would be happy to go back to. But my heart is a compass whose needle points South, and it is there that I shall go. New York… I am proud to have been a part of if. But I know what it means to miss New Orleans.

Onward ho!

The Party

This is a picture of Soul Rebels playing my going away party on my girlfriend's roof. We were able to work something out for them to play. These guys play regularly on Thursdays at a bar called Le Bon Temps in New Orleans. It was one of my favorite regular acts to catch in the city and I look forward to seeing them there again. Having them play at my farewell party was completely unanticipated and was a bit of a taste of things to come.

To make a donation to the clinic, please go to http://www.neworleansmusiciansclinic.org/

A bit about me

My name is Pearce Grieshaber and I am a New Orleanian. I was born there on November 10th, 1978 and attended grammar school, high school, and college in New Orleans. I have a love and attachment for the Crescent City that I find inexplicable. As Louis Armstrong once said, “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

I was working as a waiter in NOLA when the hurricane hit on August 29th, 2005. Jobless, I was able to tread by on savings, but then my FEMA money was beginning to run out. Wth my money dwindling and uncertain of what the post-hurricane economy in New Orleans may be like, I moved to New York City, stayed with friends while I found a job, and then after that an apartment. I started life in New York with the full intention of returning as soon as the time was right, so I decided I would return by bicycle… my favorite way of traveling long distances.

I have made many friends here in this city but there are many factors which pull me back home. New Orleans is more than a city; it is a culture, a state of mind, a place unlike any other. I guess more than anything, she is my home and I must go back there... not only because she needs me there, but because I belong there. Just being a citizen in New Orleans these days is a commitment and it is one that I can not wait to take.

I work as a waiter in New York at a New Orleans restaurant. Most of my friends, both from work and not, are New Orleanians or at least have a very close conection to the city. To the New Orleanians I never have to explain my decision to return; they just know. The others marvel at the allegiance of a populace to a geographic location.

One of New Orleans’ greatest assets are her musicians, and this is why I am raising money for the New Orleans Musician’s Clinic. I believe that musicians are a large part of what makes the city the beautiful, creative, wonderful place that she is. They are but one of the many things that I look forward to upon returning in mid-October.

With the days of summer beginning to wane in the last days of August, the weather is starting to look favorable for my departure. I have chosen August 29th as the date that I shall leave New York for my journey home. When I return, I plan to start yet again. I have my eyes fixed on the New Orleans Fire Department as a possible new line of work in my new New Orleans.

To make a donation to the clinic, please go to http://www.neworleansmusiciansclinic.org/