ST: Day 20

Daily Miles: 57.4

Total Miles: 1049.8

Max: 22

Avg: 12.9

Time on the Bike: 04:24:14

I was woken up last night by a cockroach crawling over my sleeping bag. It was pretty awful and terrifying. People in this area don’t seem to mind it much and think they are just like ants or flies; only minor nuisances that aren’t so bad.

I swiftly flicked it off me and it scurried away. I flipped on the lights and located the thing and smushed it with some paper towel. I felt bad but I needed to sleep and I wasn’t going to get any knowing this creature was milling about.

Morning soon came and I left the Rabalais restaurant on my way to points west. I had a soft plan to make it to Chicot State Park 50 miles away. The ride was good on slow country roads with little traffic and the sun was shining in abundance. Nearing the state park the farmland disappeared and I entered into a nice pine forest. I arrived at the park around 1:00 PM and was planning to camp but they wanted 25 dollars to pitch a tent so I said no. 25 dollars is highway robbery. 5-10 dollars is fine for a hiker or cyclist but anything more than that is just ridiculous. To pitch a tent at the park was the same price to park your big ass RV and get all the hookups. 

I kept cycling west without much of a plan. The next town was 8 miles, Ville Platte. While talking with Amaya and Eric they told me they stay at a lot of churches. They just go up and ask them if they can camp somewhere on the property and pretty much all the time they get invited to stay inside. 

That was going to be my new plan: Stop at the first church I see and ask to camp on thier lawn and see where it goes. 

I spotted a Catholic Church when I entered into town that had some nice woods near the back. I parked my bike and went inside. There weren’t any cars in the parking lot so I was surprised the doors weren’t locked- but then I remembered it’s a church, so they probably never really lock them anyway. And then I felt kind of silly and dull for being so surprised.

The church was empty but there were some candles lit and then I saw some person in the hallway. He soon disappeared out of my view and I walked in his direction to track him down. I got to the hallway which led back outside but when I went outside the guy had disappeared. I looked around both corners and he was nowhere to be seen. He literally vanished into thin air. Was he a ghost?

I went back outside and sat on a bench. 20 minutes later I saw him again and he saw me and I gave him a wave and smile. He waved back as I stood up to walk towards him and he went back inside. 

I followed him inside like a total creep and finally got his attention. I explained who I was and what I was doing and asked if it would be okay to pitch my tent somewhere on the property. He was a nice guy and explained he was the maintenance man, and said it shouldn’t be a problem but to wait and ask the pastor when he gets back- which should be in about an hour. 

I waited outside and planned some things for the ride in the next few days. I was also able to patch my tube that I had punctured yesterday so that was good. 

The pastor finally came back after about an hour and a half of waiting. 

“Hello, are you the pastor? My name is Domonck and I’m cycling through on my bike.”

“Yes, Father Mitchell, nice to meet you. What can I do for you?”

“I’m just looking for a safe place to sleep tonight and if it’s not too much trouble would you mind if I camped on your property?”

“Sure, that would be fine,” he said, smiling. “But it might rain tonight. If you want to stay inside instead that would be okay.”

Wow, it worked! 

“If you don’t mind…I would really appreciate that, thank you!”

“Not a problem at all.”

Father Mitchell brought me inside and showed me around. He said I could sleep on the couch in the reception area. The place was cozy and what you might expect a reception area to be at a church: Crosses and pictures of saints and flowers and plants in pots; Clean and simple and pleasent with a box of pink tissues on all of the end tables. 

“Mass is in an hour at 5:30,” Father said before leaving to hear confession. “You are welcome to come if you’d like.” And then he slipped out the door into church. 

I can’t not attend mass now, I thought. It would be rude to skip. So I went to mass and sang and prayed along. I  grew up in a Catholic family and it had been years since I’d last attended mass but it’s like riding a bike, you don’t really forget how to do it no matter how much time has passed. 

After mass Father invited me to dinner and we drived a ways out of town to his favorite local restaurant. When we got into the restaurant there was another priest there and Father Mitchell and he talked for a while; shop talk about fundraisers and parishioners and other things that priests talk about to one another.

“What did you think of the women’s marches,” the other priest asked Father Mitchell. 

“Everyone has a right to voice their opinions.”

“Can you believe that Hilary wanted to support abortions at 9 months?” the other priest said. “I’m very pleased with what Trump is doing. Those Hillary supporters just wanted that nine month rule because they wanted to be able to abort their baby if they found out it had a disability. It was an outrage. Every life is special in God’s eyes.”

It was clear Father Mitchell didn’t really want to go into it. We were there to eat country fried steak and boudin balls, not talk about religion and politics.

They talked for a few minutes more and we finally said goodbye and sat down. 

“Order whatever you want. My treat,” Father Mitchell said. 

I ordered a big fat chicken fried steak with a loaded baked potato. When it came it was enormous and barely all fit on the plate. I scarfed it down between short breaks to carry on our conversation. Father Mitchell was a great guy and it was a pleasure talking with him.

When the check came the waitress said it had already been taken care of by the other priest. 

Father Mitchell looked at me, “How about that?”

On the ride home he offered if I’d like to stay in the guest room instead. “I didn’t know you before so I was hesitant, but would you like the guest bedroom? It will undoubtedly be more comfortable than the couch.”

I of course didn’t say no. How could I? 

I feel guilty for all this kindness from complete strangers that has come my way recently. I don’t really know what to say. I don’t think I necessarily deserve it.  I’m just some guy on vacation riding his bike around and writing and taking pictures and maybe trying to learn a thing or two about life and the people of this country. 

What have I done to help others? I don’t know and I’ll find a way to fix that.