Natchez Trace Parkway: And We're Off!

My Journey Cycling the Natchez Trace Parkway:

The Ups and Downs, the stories, the bumps in the road, and everything in between.

And We're Off!

Day 1, Thursday, May 18:

I went to bed on the night of the 17^th very late, mostly due to procrastination packing, despite plans to get up at 5:30 the first morning of my trip.

The Northern Terminus of the Trace is about 15 miles from my house. The Loveless Café, one of Nashville’s most popular restaurants, is conveniently located right next to the Trace. I had never eaten there before—I purposely saved myself from eating at Loveless specifically for this moment, as I saw it as a great meal to preceded a final journey and my departure from Nashville.

I was fortunate to have one of my closest friends in Nashville, Joey, agree to grab breakfast and ride with me the first morning. Joey would occasionally accompany me on 2-hour bike trips over the course of the year. It was really great to have a ride to the start of the Trace, some company for the first half day, and someone to hold me accountable to make sure I followed through on my trip. Joey ended up getting me at my place around 7:00, and we got to Loveless at about 7:30 am.

The Loveless Cafe, Milepost 444

The food at Loveless itself was pretty incredible. Its biscuits were perhaps the greatest biscuits I’ve had in my life, and the portions were huge. The famous country ham was actually a bit salty for my taste (I like my foods a bit on the bland side, it’s healthier) but the extra salt definitely couldn’t hurt before a big bike trip.

We both ate so much at Loveless that we needed to take a post meal nap/break, a siesta, prior to our bike ride. But after a quick rest and loading up my bike, at 9:30am as Joey said “the boys are off!”

My initial impression of The Natchez Trace Parkway was as advertised. The scenery is nice, there are no billboards, gas stations, stopping intersections, or fast food joints on the parkway, and the speed limit stayed around 45-50 mph. The road was very well maintained and paved (which makes a huge difference in your speed), there were scenic, nature, and historic rest stops throughout the road, water and restrooms every 20 miles or so (at least in Tennessee and Alabama), and the mile markers (which were declining from milepost 444 to mile 0 in the direction I was going, a cool countdown of sorts) at every mile made tracking my progress very simple. There were also many signs stating that “Bicycles have right to the entire lane, and that other vehicles should switch lanes to pass.” The Trace was a good road to take a long bike trip on, and I’d recommend it for a scenic drive as well.

Double-Arch Bridge, Milepost 438

Anyways, our first stop was the double arch bridge, a mere six miles from the Northern Terminus at milepost 438. I’ve long had a fascination with neat bridges. Joey and I hesitated before descending the steep hill off the trace to the bottom of the bridge, but the view made it definitely worth it. And I topped 30mph for the first time on my bike, clocking in at 32.1, so that was cool.

After ascending back up the steep hill to the trace, Joey and I then chugged out another 11 miles to the first rest stop, Garrison Creek. It was about 11:30am, and Joey needed to be back to his car at Loveless around 3:00pm, so we decided to take a lunch break. Joey made us a couple of sandwiches, so we had a nice picnic by the creek, followed by another siesta.

As we were about to leave, we went to the restroom to fill up on water. There was some construction going on at the restroom, and only an old, rusty looking water fountain. We thought “does it even work??” Luckily, the water fountain delivered nice cool water and was delicious. It’s amazing how great cold water tastes when you’re really thirsty. As Joey labeled that water fountain, “Rusty the Old Trusty.”

Joey siesta-ing at
Garrison Creek, Milepost 427

Joey and I then split off on our own separate ways. This point was where my journey turned from “another casual bike ride” with Joey into the 444-mile trek that I had set out to conquer. It was great having company, even if only for the first 17 miles, so as we turned in opposite directions I could help but get a glance at Joey one last time.

And so, I was off on my own, on a solo adventure. The Tennessee hills were tough as advertised, but I made some decent ground. I stopped at the next rest area, Jackson Falls, at milepost 403, and made a quick 10-minute hike to a small waterfall. After the waterfall, I chugged out another 13 miles to milepost 391 to Fall Hollow Campground and Restaurant.

Now there was a bit of a dilemma at milepost 391. The Trace was actually closed from milepost 391 to milepost 385, due to a road block and some construction on a bridge at milepost 386.* The detour around the construction added about 16 miles (which is at least a good hour for a cyclist). My first ideal destination, Meriwether Lewis Campground, a free campground offered by NPS and the Trace, was at Milepost 385. Cycling the detour was certainly something I wanted to avoid.

* I would later learn that the construction, shutting down of the trace, and detour. CK, a cyclist I would meet later, hypothesized that the it was all just a smokescreen set up by some local and or state politician in a scheme to get people to pass through Howenwald, TN—a somewhat touristy town—and spend money there.  Ugh. CK was probably right; there’s no practical reason to shut down construction on a small bridge for nearly two years!

As I got off to Fall Hollow Campground at Milepost 391, I asked the guy working the front desk what the deal was with the detour, and he immediately told me that it’s possible and relatively easy for cyclists to get in and sneak through. He told me that the vast majority of past cyclists who stopped by his campground made it through with no issues whatsoever, and even one that happened to get caught and ticketed by an NPS ranger claimed that the ticket was “well worth it.”

After wolfing down some barbecue at campground restaurant, I decided to cut through the road block, which was not surprising given my penchant for going against the grain and being somewhat devious. There was a pretty big fence blocking the road and bunches of signs, but with some bushwacking with my bike, it wasn’t terribly difficult to get around it. And then I was in the clear.

The six road blocked miles were the BEST six miles of my entire bike ride, hands down. Maybe it was the late evening timing and the sun finally having set behind the trees on that hot May day. Maybe it was the fact that due to the road block and since no cars could enter, I was in near complete silence and immersed in the wilderness, freely zigzagging on both sides of the road knowing there were no threats of cars coming from either direction. But considering that all, there was definitely some added value in knowing that I was doing something that I maybe shouldn’t have been doing that made those six miles more satisfying.

The moral of the story here is that sometimes you have to go against the grain or even break some rules to experience something truly special. Sometimes it is completely worth it to take that risk, as long as you aren’t hurting anybody. Walls and fences are there to keep people out, and if you are able to show how much you want something and are overcome those barriers, you can be rewarded. 

Having made it through the road block to milepost 385, I was right at the Meriwether Lewis Campground, my stop for the night. Just as I was pulling into the campground, I noticed that a part of my front tire—presumably due to an imperfect patch job I had performed the week prior—was bulging out, making the front tire not exactly circular, causing a bumpier ride with each revolution. Uh oh. I was pretty tired and at that point it was getting dark, so it was something I’d put off until the next day.

The campground itself was a primitive campground—with a bathroom but no showers or electricity. As I set up camp, I noticed there were literally no other bikers (there were about 20 occupied sites) at the campground. It was very humid and hot, so I sat in my tent sweaty, nasty. But I unwound myself to bed maybe an hour or two after dark, reading a book and journaling notes, and waiting to see what awaited me the next day.

Day 1 Stats:

Distance Traveled: 62.50 miles

Max Speed: 35.9mph

Average Speed: 11.9 mph

Time Traveled: 6:51:58

Camp at Meriwether Lewis Campground, Milepost 385

Day 2, Friday, May 19:

I woke up at about 7:00am hoping to hit the road early, before the temperature got too hot. After a quick inspection of the bulge in the tire I had discovered the previous evening, my hypothesis was that the bulge was caused by an imperfectly patched tube (I patched the tube in that tire the week prior), so I decided to change the tube and put a new one in. After replacing the new tube, another quick inspection showed that… the bulge was still there.

Damn. This definitely wasn’t good—there was no way that this bulge in my tire would last me the rest of the trip, and even if it did, it would cause a major inconvenience and lack of efficiency. Worst case scenario, the tire would pop when I was in the middle of nowhere and I’d be stranded on the side of the road, miles away from the nearest town, never mind the nearest bike shop.

Was I already destined to fail, not even one full day in? Should I turn back for Nashville before I got farther away? Should I call one of my roommates to pick me up since I was a mere hour drive away, as opposed to a longer distance if I needed help later in my journey?

After dwelling on my issues for a bit, I figured something out. Sometimes when you’re faced with a challenge, there’s nothing better you can really do but make a choice and move on. Furthermore, there is no point of complaining or whining about it. In this particular case, even if I wanted to vent and complain to someone, I couldn’t: my phone didn’t have service!

So I had a choice: bail, or suck it up and move forward. Since there wasn’t really anyone around or any more research to be done, dwelling on the decision was fruitless.

I didn't go on this journey to take the blue pill.

And then I realized this was just like the classic matrix scenario. Take the red pill, and find out the truth with risks, and the journey that I was seeking, but I didn’t know what awaited me. Take the blue pill, and I turn around go home, go back to everyday life, as if this never happened.

I didn’t spend hundreds of dollars and weeks of training to just stop after a day, even if there was a threatening bulge. I wanted the adventure, the story. I even wanted the challenge. I simply couldn’t just take the blue pill and go back. So, tire bulge and all, I trekked on.

About ten miles in at Milepost 375, I biked by a foursome of bikers—two couples in their 40s/50s after a rather gruesome hill. We were all going in the same direction, and there was a patch of shade on the left (opposing) side of the road, so the five of us stopped and rested there.

The first car heading north (remember, we were in the northbound lane resting now) stopped before us as some southbound cars passed by. After the southbound cars passed, the guy in the car going north gave us all a nasty stare-down and waved us to get off of the road, despite there no longer being any other traffic.

We reluctantly (and unnecessarily) moved out of the truck’s way, and immediately one of the guys and I chatted about how much of a jerk that guy was, especially given all of the signs saying we had right to the entire lane.

About 35 miles later at around Milepost 350, I was pedaling along only to find that one of my bike pedal stirrups had fallen off; it seemed that the screws came undone. Thinking on the fly, I decided to unscrew one of the screws on the other pedal and place it on the malfunctioning one, such that each pedal would have a single screw on it. As I tried to unscrew the screw, however, I struggled mightily while simultaneously balancing my weighted bike.

Fortunately, as this was happening, a random guy was walking opposite and right by me. “You out of gas too?” he clamored. I looked up and saw him with an empty gas tank container, and he explained to me that he ran out of gas about a mile up the road.

I told him that one of my pedals fell off and was rearranging some screws, and it was clear I was struggling. So the guy crossed the street, and used a knife to help me unscrew and screw the pedals as I desired. The guy then said that he hoped someone could give him a ride to the nearest gas station. I said thanks, and we both moved on. As I pulled away and looked back, a car stopped for the guy.

The Tennessee River at Colbert Ferry, Milepost 327

The quick moral of the story is to try not to be a self-absorbed jerk, and try to help others when they are in need. Maybe you help someone help out on the side of the road. Or maybe when passing a cyclist you should give them the full lane to ensure you don’t hit them. Maybe you should simply hold open a door for someone. In any case, try to be kind, people!

Anyways, I then pedaled to Colbert Ferry Rest Stop and Campground, at Milepost 327 on the south end of the mile-wide Tennessee River. After stopping to enjoy the view and snacking, it was about 4:30pm and I had a choice: bike on another 23 miles to Tishomingo State Park at Milepost 304, or stay at Colbert Ferry.

I was pretty tired – I had already biked about 60 miles on the day – and was looking forward to some rest. My right knee had begun to ache a little bit as well. And worst of all, that bulge that I had seen earlier in the day (and somehow managed to make it ~60 miles on) had not only gotten bigger, but had actually split my front tire such that I now had a gash in it. How much longer could I realistically go?

My tire gash.

But ultimately, I decided to power forward onto Tishomingo.  My knee hurt? Boo Hoo. My tire was splitting? Cry me a River. What I knew was that I still had 3 hours of daylight, and I needed to get to Tupelo at Mile 266, the location of the nearest bike shop on the Trace, so I could get a new front tire. And I knew that the weather was good (hot, but good) and that waiting around and wallowing in my problems wouldn’t do anything and wouldn’t get me any closer to that bike shop in Tupelo. And with that, I chugged out the 23 miles to Tupelo, bum knee, split tire, and all. And I made it.

Since it was a state and not NPS sponsored, Tishomingo was a better campground. It was a Friday night so there were a lot of people there as well, many of who had elaborate camping setups with lights, trailers, grills, hammocks, etc. And there I was, on a bike, with a dinky tent, eating a combination of Clif bars, peanut butter, and sour patch kids.

Despite the teasing savory smells of burgers and hot dogs, Tishomingo had some redeeming traits. It had outlets, which meant for the first time I could charge my phone as well as the external charger I brought along with me. And second, and much more importantly Tishomingo had showers. That shower I took after I arrived—after biking 140 miles and sweating and stinking in 85 degree heat for the past two days, was quite possibly the best shower I ever took.

Day 2 Stats:

Distance traveled: 88.324 Miles

Max Speed: 34.9 mph

Average Speed 12.8 mph

Time Traveled: 06:51:58


Guide:
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