I’m at the ferry dock at 7:30am, watching the thick fog come in across the bay. One crew walks out on the dock and comes near to me and the only car in line to announce the fact: the first run is cancelled. The earliest one is an hour and a half away. I ride to the intersection and find a bakery to have some danish and coffee. The owner is on the phone talking to his brother as I leave. “There is a guy here who cycled all the way from Vancouver… Yes, Canada! Hold on, let me ask… DO YOU WARSHIP GOD?”
Mississippi and Alabama is over at the blink of an eye. Bogalusa is a town formed around a pulp mill and railroad tracks — that explains the increasing log truck traffic.