Biking in Bama

There comes a time in many a bicycle tourers life when they most stop, scratch their heads, and wonder why oh why. I found myself in this very situation often over the past week as I cycled through Alabama. In fact, I had a few titles I thought I would go with, like Bad Bama Biking or Sweet Biking Alabama, or Hey, Alabama, Why?? Clearly, confusion mists the airs of cycling in Alabama.

We all know that a Bingler moves forward Bingle by Bingle, but this is usually done with the aid of the free road maps that states give out like kittens. For 19 states, these maps have given me the keys to unlocking the landscape, the beauty, the people, the nooks and crannies of the land. Not in Bama. My 20^th state, and I was forced to do something I hadn't done for my entire time on the road, rely 100% on internet directions. Let us explain.

The highways in Alabama are 100% disrespectful of any type of movement that is not a motor vehicle. The drivers themselves were just as courteous as they have been in every other state, with the occasional cowboy. No, the roads were deadly to a cyclist. The highways I normally would take, the secondary highways, in Alabama were 4 or 2 lanes, which is fine, but none had a shoulder. Oh, but sometimes they did. That's right, for maybe a mile or two, in random places, the DOT decided to put a shoulder, often at the start of a highway where I would think about getting on, to lure me into the death trap that awaited. Shame on Alabama DOT for their inconsistent road design and inability to have a useable shoulder on their highways.

So, being forced onto back roads, I found the other side of Bama. The quiet forested hills that I rolled up and down as I made my way eastward, from Tuscaloosa, to Prattville, to Montgomery, to Opelika. These country roads were little trafficked, scenic and full of unleashed dogs. At one point, I think I had all the dogs of an entire country barking for my blood. I even had a pig come after me. I also found another shortcoming of the DOT, their seeming inability to have road signs up indicating the name/number of a road. Often I came to an intersection and had no idea what road it was, if I needed to turn or not. I stopped to check mailboxes for addresses, stopped by every yocal to see just where I was.

At times I enjoyed my biking in Alabama, at times I was frustrated by the state, the dogs, the lack of signs. But, as has been the case, I stayed with warm wonderful people and saw the land and people of a place I never would have if it weren't for my trusty Eddy.

And so, pulling into Columbus, Georgia, I breathe a sigh of relief to be in a state where they have recommended bike routes, and the coastal plain beckons at my feet, along with warmer weather. A shout out to Ride on Bikes, the amazing people there helped me out to with radical kindness. I head south towards Florida, the end of my south and eastern progression. Florida has been on my mind for a long time, with parents and family, and the only way to go is north, it's a transition time, the beginning of the end. Slowly, it seems spring will be coming, and before I know it, I will have been cycling through the land for a year. When I left Vermont, so little did I know. I know just as little, but this life I've lead, the times, moments of elation, the hills and screaming winds, the grueling climbs, the friends come and gone, it's been beyond what I can describe.

For now, I'll enjoy the rivers of Georgia, the rail trails of Florida, the coasts, wild and free, the warmth and sun, and the ever open road ahead.