Christ, does it have to rain every night down here?

Another restless night under the rain, this time in an insect-ridden and undisclosed nook of a swampy wood. At least it didn’t make me ill this time.

I started early in the morning this time, early enough to ride into the post-rain morning pea soup. I managed to stay dry overnight, but the air was so thick with fog (and bugs) that it still left me sopping. There I was– soaking wet in the middle of the woods, without a single drop falling from the sky. My next warmshowers contact was a whole 70 miles up the road. Once I called her up and got permission to stay at her place, I began my race.

I pushed myself hard– biked just over 90 miles today (a personal record!)– with the promise of a bed and a shower to keep me motivated. Those 90 miles weren’t easy. They weren’t flat, and the wind was blowing against me. It was hard work, and every single mile had to be slowly and painfully chipped away over 11 hours. When I get out to the desert, I won’t be able to push myself like I did today. I did things with my legs that I didn’t know I was capable of, and drank through nearly 4 liters of Gatorade to make it happen. I can get away with it here in moist and humid Louisiana, but there isn’t enough moisture in the desert to do that.

I arrived at an oasis. Perry’s place was a home away from home, a cozy and warm cabin that was more welcoming and friendly than anywhere. Perry and Lep Templeton are both avid cyclists who have adorned their home with bike paraphernalia nearly everywhere– bicycle lamp posts, bicycle picture frames, bicycle lawn decorations. Even the toilet paper holder was converted from an old bicycle fork.

Sitting on the front porch with them were Ben and Delaney, a young couple around my age who have been living out of their bicycles for the past two months. They’re in the midst of circumnavigating the country, and collectively blog their travels on Ruby Two Birds as the sweetest and most adorable couple on the planet.

Seeing five cross-country cyclists cross paths on the same front porch is both amazing and overwhelming, in equal parts. Ben, Delaney, and the Templetons have developed an entirely organic social network of other cycling tourists purely through the word-of-mouth exchanged on this front porch. They’ve been cavorting and conversing with crazy German, Austrian, Australian and Swiss adventurers who come from all over the world to spend the night in one of Perry’s many available bunks.

She’s actually listed on the official ACA bike map as a lodging service: Perry Bike Hostel and Camp.

Perry and Lep lived in the woods for five years while building their dream house, which ultimately led to more than one building cropping up on their property. I got to live in the “sleeping cave” for the night, which is a luxuriously constructed bedroom and kitchen fused onto a garage chock full of stowed bicycles. It’s completely insulated from the outside world– no sound or light passes through, and it’s impossible to tell what time of day it is from the inside. I must’ve been passed out for 14 hours.

Perry has been hosting travelers through warmshowers.org for 12 years, and relishes every experience.

“It’s my calling… Every group impresses me in a different way, I learn something new all the time,” she said.

She once hosted a group of over 30 cyclists who peppered their yard with tents and bikes. It was part of NOLA to Angola, a 170-mile bike ride geared to raise funds for a bus service that would help New Orleanians visit incarcerated loved ones.

According to Perry, the 30-person group was mostly comprised of the fixed-gear riding “grunge punk rockers with tight skinny jeans. Most of their bikes were not built for a mileage thing.”

“They were a barrel of fun though,” Lep chimed in.

It seemed as if we were, too. Everyone was a delight to spend the evening with, and Ben tuned me into the LA Swift bus service, which could lead me far off the trail into the wonderful land of New Orleans tomorrow.

Here’s to you, Perry and Lep: for fearlessly exposing yourself to the diversity of the human race. People have come from all over the world to receive your hospitality. It’s truly mind-boggling and heart-warming just to know that people like you exist, and I don’t know if that’s something I’ll ever get used to.