there is lightning and there is thunder and we are in mississippi.

Hey friends.

Here I am in Biloxi, Mississippi. We're staying at the HandsOn: Gulf Coast site, which is pretty neat-o (big warehouse-like place with bunks, inspirational poster-remnants, photos, etc.), and you should be pretty thankful that I'm writing to you right now. I just tried to go out for a little "night on the town" -- meaning walking 30 paces to a pub down the street -- but alas, as my title indicates, there is lightning and there is thunder and the water is at least a foot deep on the sidewalk and water conducts electricity and... well, we turned back, and i then turned to the internet, and transitively, to you.

Deep breath.

Our ride today was a-ok. 60 miles; not a big deal after the 106 about which I will soon tell you. A lot of traffic. Cars are a little scary. But I am safe!

Going back in time to yesterday. Yesterday, we laid sod. We worked at a Habitat site in Mobile, Alabama. It is a cul-de-sac with a lot of houses, some of which are being built for people whose homes have been ruined by Katrina. The supervisors didn't have a ton of stuff for us to do -- apparently they thought a) we were motorcyclists (you'd be surprised how much we get this) and b) that we were coming in waves. What this meant was that for most of the day 30 of us were standing around raking the same patch of land over and over again before laying down our little squares of sod. It was a hot day, and we were tired, but there were ample amounts of Gatorade, Dominoes Pizza, and Walmart Cookies (DELICIOUS).

Oh yeah, we were tired because, oh wait, we had biked 106 miles the day before.

A hundred miles of cycling is called a CENTURY for you non-cyclists. I hope now that you feel that you are in the know, like I am. When it comes to cycling, I am absolutely the one who is the most in the know. Always. To quote Matthew JK Soursourian, "I am an avid cyclist."

So, the century plus six miles day, in somewhat chronological order:

The story (and what a story it is!) began at the ripe hour of 4 am, when I awoke from my peaceful slumber (on a likely ant-infested mattress), donned my spandex and "butt-butter" (see Matthew's blog for more info), pumped my tires, ate my requisite bagel, peanut butter, and banana, and set off from Milton, FL. We reached lunch at about 9:30, at which point I was starving. Lunch was great. There was meat, which was incredible (!!) after eight million thousand days of PB and J's. Additionally, we were on the BEACH, and it was pretty. It looked just like the Florida I know and love (shout out to the g-parents!) We were in Pensacola, right on the Gulf, by the by. A picture to whet your appetite:


We then proceeded to cross into Alabama. We biked about 40 more miles, arrived at our ferry (we were going to take it 3 miles across the water, I would explain in more specific detail but I'm horrible at geography) at 1:17, only to see most of our dear B and B friends cross over on the 1:15 ferry. Party. So we cried a few tears, ate delicious Haagan Daaz ice cream from the snack bar and waited until 2:45, at which point we hopped on the ferry, jumped eagerly back on our bikes, and rode off into the sunset to this lovely little bridge:

Not as nice as it looks. It gave Caitlin a flat, which we changed by the sea. Picturesque.

About 30 miles away from our destination, Matthew became dehydrated/heat exhausted (not funny then, funnier now) so we hung out outside Jeminy's Bait and Tackle. Alabama! There were many bugs, southern accents, and pick-up trucks. Also Gatorade and Snickers bars. After a little while, we headed back, just in time to see the sun descend. A day of biking! No, really, a day. 6 am to 7 pm. A day. Of biking. I have the worst tan lines in the world. But, I am also one of the more impressive people in the world. Or at least in my family.

We then arrived at Camp Christian, which looks like an abandoned orphanage from a horror film. A pink little girl's dress was hanging in our closet, to top it all off, and, as I think I mentioned before, ants were having a fiesta in Matthew's mattress.

Needless to say, a nervous breakdown ensued.

Kidding! But if one had, I wouldn't have been surprised.

In other news, I have named my bike Pilgrim, which is a bit FUNNY and IRONIC because my bike is not drab. It has a lot of "flare": multi-colored handlebars, a cow-shaped horn (Thanks, Matthew's mom!!), a green flouncy thing around the handlebars.

AND here are some more pictures, in no particular order:





ALSO, click here for more PIX! (And though it may sound like it, this is not a link to an explicit website.)