Tuesday at Cedar Grove Plantation, April 21, 2015
Tuesday was an interesting day. There were the usual 35, 50 and 75-mile ride options, all converging at a catered lunch on the grounds of Cedar Grove Plantation. The ride back to the boat was billed at different times as 8 miles or maybe 11. We were tired after the 48 from the day before, but didn’t want to miss lunch. So, OK. We’ll ride the home route backwards to lunch, leaving around 12 to get there around 1, after the noon rush but before the end time of 2. No problem. Nice leisurely morning, maybe get some of the blog up.
Well, predictably the Internet wasn’t working well (or at all) and one of us got frustrated and went up for a morning nap and one of us wrote in her journal in the Ladies’ Parlor. Meanwhile our fearless and ever-resourceful leader, always negotiating—if not to say scheming--for the benefit of his clients’ entertainment, happiness and well-being, was in serious talks in the Gentlemen’s Card Room with the American Queen executives, the River Authority reps and Louisiana State Correctional officials. This was to allow us to dock in a certain spot, thereby displacing a previously scheduled riverboat to another less-desirable spot. Additionally, Bill wanted us all to be able to ride into Angola the next day in two big groups (remember, his former trips here were 180 people or so, and we are pushing 400) AND have all the perks he previously enjoyed which were: inmates released from work time to play blues for us during lunch, a full catered lunch from the prison’s food service while NOT being able to offer an exchange as in years past which was a day on the boat for the State of Louisiana to hold some kind of one-day conference with lunch while we were all out at Angola. Yep, he got everything he wanted and they got nothing. That’s our Bill.
Back to Tuesday’s ride. We set off more like 12:30, climbed a hill into a lovely tiny riverside town and promptly dropped a chain right on Main Street. OK. Not hard to put it back on. BUT, from then on out through lovely but tight neighborhood streets of lovely southern homes, and then highways, Joe struggled mightily with gears that were clinking and clanking and not going into the smallest gears we needed for the hills. This ride was actually advertised as relatively flat, but we should know by now that means very hilly and it was. We lost the chain again at the top of a hill on the shoulder of a busy highway. Well, we fixed that and then clanked along up and down “rolling hills,” now on more quiet back roads. We kept going and going and wondering where lunch was. The GPS said 8 miles, 9 miles….11 miles….we finally began to see bikes coming our way back from lunch and found some hope and motivation to keep it up. 12 miles…..13……no lunch. Then finally we saw the trucks and bus and pulled into the lovely lawn of the plantation as the caterers were beginning to wrap things up. We gobbled down some etouffe, red beans and rice, salad and lemon bars under gracious trees while the mechanics fixed our mechanical problem.
In a rush so as to be not the VERY last out, we hastily packed up the bike and shoved off, with only a couple of bikes and the ride leaders behind us. Fortunately, retracing a ride always feels faster than going out, and in this case, it definitely was, what with no mechanical issues and a couple of other bikes for company.
We made it back with just enough time to clean up, meet our friends Richard and Rhonda for a drink before a raucous dinner at a table for 6 with another fun couple who are leaving here for a self-supported, self-planned 6-week tour of the Southeast. They do one long trip like that in the spring and another in the fall. Amazing. The evening’s entertainment in the Grand Saloon (see pics) was a local band called “Super Chicken,” consisting of an experienced (let’s say), black blues musician with a super-enthusiastic while woman keyboardist and back up singer, a tiny, catatonic, eccentrically dressed Asian woman on bass and a very laid-back (don’t see those very often) young black woman drummer. They ably did original blues material and covers, so much so that even with tired legs, I couldn’t help dancing my heart out in a balcony box.
Tuesday was an interesting day. There were the usual 35, 50 and 75-mile ride options, all converging at a catered lunch on the grounds of Cedar Grove Plantation. The ride back to the boat was billed at different times as 8 miles or maybe 11. We were tired after the 48 from the day before, but didn’t want to miss lunch. So, OK. We’ll ride the home route backwards to lunch, leaving around 12 to get there around 1, after the noon rush but before the end time of 2. No problem. Nice leisurely morning, maybe get some of the blog up.
Well, predictably the Internet wasn’t working well (or at all) and one of us got frustrated and went up for a morning nap and one of us wrote in her journal in the Ladies’ Parlor. Meanwhile our fearless and ever-resourceful leader, always negotiating—if not to say scheming--for the benefit of his clients’ entertainment, happiness and well-being, was in serious talks in the Gentlemen’s Card Room with the American Queen executives, the River Authority reps and Louisiana State Correctional officials. This was to allow us to dock in a certain spot, thereby displacing a previously scheduled riverboat to another less-desirable spot. Additionally, Bill wanted us all to be able to ride into Angola the next day in two big groups (remember, his former trips here were 180 people or so, and we are pushing 400) AND have all the perks he previously enjoyed which were: inmates released from work time to play blues for us during lunch, a full catered lunch from the prison’s food service while NOT being able to offer an exchange as in years past which was a day on the boat for the State of Louisiana to hold some kind of one-day conference with lunch while we were all out at Angola. Yep, he got everything he wanted and they got nothing. That’s our Bill.
Back to Tuesday’s ride. We set off more like 12:30, climbed a hill into a lovely tiny riverside town and promptly dropped a chain right on Main Street. OK. Not hard to put it back on. BUT, from then on out through lovely but tight neighborhood streets of lovely southern homes, and then highways, Joe struggled mightily with gears that were clinking and clanking and not going into the smallest gears we needed for the hills. This ride was actually advertised as relatively flat, but we should know by now that means very hilly and it was. We lost the chain again at the top of a hill on the shoulder of a busy highway. Well, we fixed that and then clanked along up and down “rolling hills,” now on more quiet back roads. We kept going and going and wondering where lunch was. The GPS said 8 miles, 9 miles….11 miles….we finally began to see bikes coming our way back from lunch and found some hope and motivation to keep it up. 12 miles…..13……no lunch. Then finally we saw the trucks and bus and pulled into the lovely lawn of the plantation as the caterers were beginning to wrap things up. We gobbled down some etouffe, red beans and rice, salad and lemon bars under gracious trees while the mechanics fixed our mechanical problem.
In a rush so as to be not the VERY last out, we hastily packed up the bike and shoved off, with only a couple of bikes and the ride leaders behind us. Fortunately, retracing a ride always feels faster than going out, and in this case, it definitely was, what with no mechanical issues and a couple of other bikes for company.
We made it back with just enough time to clean up, meet our friends Richard and Rhonda for a drink before a raucous dinner at a table for 6 with another fun couple who are leaving here for a self-supported, self-planned 6-week tour of the Southeast. They do one long trip like that in the spring and another in the fall. Amazing. The evening’s entertainment in the Grand Saloon (see pics) was a local band called “Super Chicken,” consisting of an experienced (let’s say), black blues musician with a super-enthusiastic while woman keyboardist and back up singer, a tiny, catatonic, eccentrically dressed Asian woman on bass and a very laid-back (don’t see those very often) young black woman drummer. They ably did original blues material and covers, so much so that even with tired legs, I couldn’t help dancing my heart out in a balcony box.
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