It rained all night and I slept well.
It was still raining when I woke up, I guess all the water in those swamps has to come from somewhere. I didn't want to get out of the bivvy bag to ride in the rain.
I couldn't stay in the woods all day, I didn't have much food or water plus I wouldn't find out anything new about Louisiana from my hammock. I forced myself to get up and get on with it.
An hour and a half later I was kind of getting into it. Even though I was soaked to the skin, I wasn't uncomfortable riding. There was no wind, I guessed it was about 15 degrees C and I was making good time.
I stopped in the town of Deridder to pick up a coffee and have a little break form the torrential onslaught. The Indian clerk said he was just visiting for 6 months. He told me he was enjoying living in the small town. He said it was populated with good, honest people and has the highest number of churches of any town in the USA.
Back on the road I was keen to get moving. I was trying to warm up having got a bit cold when I stopped. There was no shoulder in town and the traffic was fairly heavy. The rain was coming down really hard now, it was almost monsoon like in nature. The fun element of riding in the rain was wearing off fast.
Time for the 'carry on regardless' attitude without which there would be few British outdoor enthusiasts. I set myself a target destination, 20 miles down the road, to make by lunchtime.
However I hadn't even made it out of town before a man had pulled in to offer me a lift.
The old but well kept pick-up had the words, "God loves us all equally" written on the back windscreen in large stick-on letters . The driver said he would take me the 20 miles to my lunch stop, he had wanted an opportunity to help someone that day.
Edward was a quietly spoken, middle aged black man. He was simply but neatly dressed, with a deep voice and an old fashioned accent. His eyes were wide and kind and he had an open, dignified poise.
"I've learnt to always take care what I say to people." he explained, "You never know when you might be speaking to an angel."
He was obviously very inspired by his faith. He had been born again he told me, renounced his old ways and found a new purpose in life. He viewed giving me lift as a chance to help me on my way spiritually as well as physically.
Looking me deep in the eyes he spoke to me benevolently, as if he already knew who I was. Occasionally touching his bible, he calmly shared his perspective with me in a remarkably amenable way. This really was his calling, spreading The Good News, a true grass roots evangelist.
Much of what he said struck a chord with me. He talked about how mankind has lost it's way in the world, lost touch with the creative forces that gave us all life. How people need to take a look at what was happening around them and focus on what really matters.
He spoke about how powerful people around the world use all sorts of means to control mankind's direction to suit their own intentions. For a poor man living in a small rural town in the Deep South he was certainly very aware of what goes on elsewhere, more so than many.
Despite his charismatic persona and the appeal of his ideas, I just couldn't make the connection that what he was proposing as the solution to all these problems.
I do have a great respect for religious people though. In my travels around the world I have found those of faith to be good people. They are usually trustworthy and reliable, especially in places where many others may not be so. They live by a strong code of right and wrong, I try to do the same.
However either you have faith of you don't and whether I like it or not, I remain a man who does not.
As we raced along the wet country roads, I realised I was a bit scared we might skid and crash. It just like the last time I got a lift in the rain on the interstate, except this time the conditions really weren't that bad.
After nearly 2 months on a bike, perhaps I have become unaccustomed to motorised transport. To me it seems unnatural and a little unsettling to exceed 25 miles an hour now.
Aside from the plight of my soul, Edward also shared another telling tale. Once he gave man a lift to the very same spot only for the car to break down leaving him stranded. It is a white area, he said and as it was nearly sunset, he was scared to be there. He was all set to call a friend to rescue him but his vehicle came to life in the nick of time.
As we parted company I was left a little stunned, both the strength of his convictions and the implications of his story had had quite an effect on me.
I had found out a little more about the mentality of the Deep South but I really didn't know what to make of it.
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