Cycling the Underground Railroad

 DAY 3:  HUBBARD LANDING TO GROVE HILL 

Hills. Hills. And more hills.

Yes, I did my research, and I knew that parts of this ride was going to have ups and downs.   But, until today, I had NO IDEA what I was in for. 

I realized as I was pedalling how extremely difficult it would be for someone to try to escape on foot, with minimal belongings and probably inadequate shoes, though this terrain.   In addition to the hills, the trees in these Southern forests are not all that big around, but they grow close together, creating an environment of dense vegetation.   The undergrowth is thick and woody, making it slow going.  As a result,  there is a darkness to the forest, and it all starts looking alike; getting disoriented could happen easily.   Especially if most of one's life had been lived in the close confines of a single plantation.   Today's ride brought the reality and difficulty of this struggle to life.

The thick woods and undergrowth in western Alabama.

There were sign that these county backroads had once been main thoroughfares.--glimpses of abandoned stores or services, like the remains of this gas station.

Saw a lot of remnants of what must have been when this backroad was once the main road.

Then there were the hills.  (Did I mention the hills?)  As creeks flowed into the rivers I was paralleling, they cut gullies--some of them considerably deep.  At many points today, I climbed more than one hill every mile.  Many were short and steep, some were long.  Strava (a phone app that keeps track of each ride), says I climbed almost 3,400 feet today, and never got over 400 feet about sea level!  If the average hill gained 200 feet, that means there were 68 hills in the way.  My loaded bike didn't make them easier (but got lots of momentum on the down hills!) Up the hill at 4 miles an hour, down the other side at 40 mph!  Exhilarating, yet exhausting.  Sometimes I just had to stop and rest.

More hills than once can count!  I estimated 60+ this day.

My bike needed a rest.  (I didn't, of course!)

Two discoveries really stood out to me.   The first was that I crossed the Alabama River.  It was grander than I had imagined.   The next time that I'll cross this body of water will be on the Edmund Pettis Bridge in Selma, the site of the March for Voting Rights and Bloody Sunday in 1965.

I would cross the Alabama River several times on this route.

The Alabama is a bigger river than I had imagined.

The second notable discovery was the Dellet-Bedsole Plantation.   I could see behind the historical marker large fields where cotton had been harvested. 

This plantation,  established in the early 1800s, covers 4,000 acres and has been in continuous operation.   How many slaves, I wonder, would it take to work a plantation that large?  The rule of thumb was that it took one slave for every two acres of cotton.  Most plantations didn't meet that goal, but it is safe to say that on this farm there were probably between 500-1000 enslaved human laborers.  The number of buildings that were on the property would support that.  An enterprise using that many and kind of workers is hard for our modern minds to comprehend. 

Cotton fields in the foreground.  This plantation probably had almost 1,000 slaves.

To complicate today's trek, the fact that the State of Alabama doesn't waste money on road signs cost me a few miles.  Then, the resupply stations/convenience stores that were supposed to be there according to our maps were either non-existent or closed (either due to the fact that it was Sunday, or Covid).  This means I was calorie deficient and dehydrated.  And it was hot and humid.  

At about the 70 mile mark, I was completely out of fluids and was struggling to keep going.  (I was still still 14 miles from my destination.)   I spied a house where a family,  most likely descendants of slaves, was finishing their Sunday dinner on their deck.  I laid my bike down by the highway,  walked over to the house (unintentionally startling them), and asked politely (kind of begging) if the would mind refilling my bottle with water.  She told me to stay put, went inside, bringing back two ice cold water bottles.   I told her she was my angel.  I would have had a hard time without her selfless generosity.  Maybe that doesn't seem like much,  but for me--at that moment--it was monumental.   Good people do still exist!

It had gotten dark, and I made the last few miles with the aid of my headlight.  I was uncertain about my motel, as there was no sign out front.  The owner was friendly and accommodating, and assured my that my room, number 148 in the back corner, "would be very quiet."  It seemed this might be a "no-tell motel."

But he was right.  After almost 84 grueling miles, I slept undisturbed.

First class accommodations at the Wind Tree Motel in Grove Hill. No name on the sign.

Today's Mileage: 83.7

Total Distance to date;  148.5 miles