Boom! Magazine Founder Jim Watson was one of the nicest men I’ve had the privilege of calling a friend. He was also, at times, a mentor. In his honor and memory, hereinbelow is the first feature that I submitted (and he graciously accepted) back in June 2016.
The Chief Ladiga Bike Trail begins in Anniston. But I chose to depart from Jacksonville because I was visiting relatives there. My original goal was to bike 75 miles from Jacksonville to Hiram, Georgia, west of Atlanta, spend the night in a hotel, and return the next day via the same route. That was pretty ambitious given the fact that, prior to this adventure, I had not ridden a bike in fifty years.
I trained mornings before work, biking 8 to 10 miles every other day, getting used to the bike. The day before my trek, I took a practice run 7.5 miles up the trail and back for a round-trip of 15 miles. No sweat.
The weatherman forecasted 100 degrees, so I left at 5:30 AM to take advantage of the cool morning hours. Traveling light, I took only the clothes on my body plus a few extra items in a backpack: sunscreen, a can of sardines, a pack of saltine crackers, spare water, a change of clothes, two candy bars, some Ibuprofen, my cell phone. After less than a mile, I decided to ditch the pack. I figured I’d be able to find plenty of food along the route, and I already had two bottles of water in special holders on the bike. I returned to the house and hung the backpack on a gate under the carport, sticking the candy bars in a zip pocket of my biking pants. Thinking my cell phone was in another pocket, I set out again.
At that early hour, the trail was deserted, cool, and serene. I had almost run over a groundhog during my previous day’s practice run. But I encountered only squirrels and rabbits this June morning. For the most part, they stayed out of my way. Ten miles out, I paused to remove a twig from my spokes. Out of habit, I reached for my phone. It was missing. My first thought was that I might have dropped it at an earlier rest stop several miles back. I raced back to that site as fast as my legs would take me. But no phone. If my wife couldn’t reach me, she’d activate the National Guard. I continued on to the house and found my phone in the backpack. Round trip: 20 miles. Fairly winded, I started out a third time—two hours behind schedule.
The first little town after Jacksonville is Piedmont, 12 miles north. It’s a small, pleasant community that provides restrooms for bikers right on the trail. A nice surprise! At Piedmont, the trail continues east toward Georgia and gets scenic, crossing quaint creeks with mountain views to the south. As I approached the Georgia line, the trail became slightly steeper. But the lush forests and mountainous terrain made that part of the trail a highlight. I paused for a much-needed water break and stretch at the Georgia line. There are picnic tables there and a can for disposing of trash. Nearby, cows grazed in a fenced pasture. The trail changes from asphalt to concrete, widens by a few feet, and becomes the Silver Comet Trail.
My brother, who has traversed the entire trail from Anniston to Smyrna, Georgia, began to text me weather warnings. I checked my weather app, and sure enough, a strong storm was rapidly approaching the Cedartown, Georgia, area from the north. Cedartown was my next stop. Well into Georgia, I noticed storm shelters every few miles on the left side of the trail. As the sky filled with clouds, I contemplated the possibility that I might, indeed, need shelter. But I chose to bike on. When I finally rolled into Cedartown, I was so exhausted from roughly 60 miles on the trail—I had added about 24 miles to my trip going back and forth from the house that morning—I scarcely realized I had made it that far.
The first Cedartown landmark I encountered was the old Depot Welcome Center. It was about 1:00 PM Georgia time. I stopped heavy traffic in both directions at the crosswalk on Main Street. Courteous Cedartown drivers refused to budge until I had safely crossed the street. The welcome center was closed, so I rested outside on a bench and checked the Internet for hotels. The storm was pretty vocal at that point. Still, no rain. I clicked on the first hotel that came up and typed in the address on my map application for directions. The nice virtual lady giving me directions sent me on a two-mile escapade through Cedartown to a vacant lot in a not-so-cool area, saying, “Your destination is on the right.” Amidst the thunder, exhausted and hungry, I decided to ask a real human. I pulled a hill back to Main Street and turned left. I asked the first kind person I came upon where a decent hotel was. “Straight ahead on the left. A Quality Inn. About a mile,” he said.
It was 1.7 miles. I was within twenty feet of the door when the bottom fell out. Minutes later, hail was falling. But I didn’t care. They had a vacancy. The lady at the desk was wonderfully hospitable. Not only did she give me “the biker rate,” but she escorted me to a clean, comfortable room, opened the door, helped me get my bike in the room, and handed me the key with a smile. I ordered a medium pizza and a bottle of Sprite from Dominoes, took a long, hot shower, and then relaxed in a chair by the bed and watched the crashing rain outside my window. My pizza arrived hot. I savored every bite. Falling asleep was tough. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. And the Ibuprofen was in the backpack. The rain subsided at 9:00 Georgia time. The sky turned pink, and fireflies blinked at me from the dusk.
The next morning, I ate a hardy breakfast—part of the deal at the hotel—and was back on the trail heading west by 7:30 AM CST. The storm had cooled the trail. Heavy clouds blocked the scorching sun. I made excellent time, arriving back at the house at 11:30 AM Alabama time. (It’s 37.6 miles from Cedartown to Jacksonville, but my round trip was more like 95 miles.) It’s not for sissies. But there were all ages out biking—some speedsters and some poke-a-longs. You shouldn’t be intimidated if you’re in good health and fairly active. But I recommend you don’t do it alone. Make lodging reservations in advance and know where your hotel is. Use a soft bike seat. And, whatever you do, don’t forget your cell phone!
Miss you, Jim. It’s been a good ride.
Jeff Barganier is a novelist, travel writer and speaker. He travels far and wide upon the slightest excuse for something interesting to write about. His novels include Lawson’s Bluff (2021); The Slash Brokers (1998). He also manages Cindy Barganier Interiors LLC (www.cindybarganier.com) at The Waters in Pike Road, Alabama. Contact Jeff at Jeffbarganier@knology.net. You may print out his features at www.jeffbarganier.com and take them with you when you travel!