As transcribed by Jennifer:  155 miles.  Much of it hilly. No matter what the Texans say, Louisiana is beautiful.  No computer tonight so this post will be continued tomorrow…   Go Geoffrey!  I love you! 

November 1, 2007
Okay, I’m back at a computer. After 3 days solo on the road, I’m going to have company tomorrow. My favorite riding buddy from years ago in Ohio now lives in Natchez, Mississippi, and will be riding on the Natchez Trace with me. Conner left a nice management position at International Paper a few years ago to pursue his dream of opening a pottery studio and making a living as an artist. He’s done a remarkable job, and has carved out a great life here in Natchez.

Wednesday marked the halfway point of the trip, and hopefully the end of crappy pavement. Every Texan I spoke with was very nice, but when they found out I was going into Louisiana they shook their heads. “Roads are real bad over there!” “Yer gonna git yerself kilt over there!” “Bike riders are worth 1000 points, ya’ll know.” Luckily, the opposite is true. At least if you stay on US 84 across Louisiana. 84 is a lovely road with a wide, smooth shoulder, and it passes through several national forests on its way across the rolling hills of north central Louisiana. Not mountains, but some tough rollers that weren’t easy with an extra 20 lbs of gear on my rear rack. Everyone I met was friendly and inquisitive, and only one driver obnoxiously blared his horn at me. The only negative about LA is that many people don’t chain their dogs, so I had several unintended sprints, and a few instances where I just stopped and petted the big dopey mutts.

The other dogs I saw were coyotes. I saw 3 in the late evening Wednesday. Wild and fearless, they all were crossing the road, slowing to give me a long look, and then zip and they’re gone.

With minimal wind and smooth pavement, I motored pretty well and survived the hills in the last 25 miles to finish just at dusk. Dinner at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet for $7 was terrific, although it has never occurred to anyone in Winnfield, LA that it’s okay to drink a beer with your meal, not just when you’re driving. After 155 miles, a beer would have been nice, but I’m sure it would not have been a DeChute’s Porter like Paul had been serving up last week.

Today was November 1, All Saints Day. It’s funny, I was thinking about how mad I would get when my friends who went to Catholic school would get the day off and I wouldn’t. However, I am actually carrying a St. Christopher prayer card with me, as I have on all my travels this year. Cool story: During the Longest Day double century + this June, our crew of guys stopped for a break in Mannville in the parking lot of the Catholic church there. The priest came out and said hello and offered us the use of the facilities and garden hose to cool off. A few minutes later he came out and gave each of us one of these St. Christopher cards. St. Christopher is the patron saint of travelers, because he carried the baby Jesus over a raging river to safety. So far, St. Christopher has been keeping me safe. Thanks!

Today I rode from Winnfield to Natchez, Mississippi. A cold start (45 degrees), but a nice section of rolling roadway through the Kisatchie National Forest. Gorgeous, quiet, green, and lush with the fragrance of pine trees. I passed a heron rookery, raucous with the calls of the goofy birds standing in the treetops. I caught a glimpse of an armadillo diving into the brush by the roadside, and watched hawks hunting above the meadows. A Black rat snake snuck across the road ahead of me in the late morning sun. I also passed the carcass of a large wild boar that had been hit on the highway.

After the hills subsided, the wind returned. I had hoped today would be an easy recovery day, but I found myself fading as my odometer passed the 80 mile mark. I drafted a large tractor towing a plow, and after 2 mile of this I was covered in nasty black soot and dust. The traffic increased and the scenery decayed into endless highway stores and industries, and then finally the bridge loomed on the horizon. I paused on top to photograph the mighty Mississippi, and then climbed up to the city of Natchez, where Conner came out to meet me at the visitors center. Here are the photos of these last 3 days, although they’re in no particular order, probably from trying to upload from both mine and Conner’s cameras. Click on the next paragraph for the hidden link.

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Chapter two began today.  Paul and I cleaned out the Explorer and said our goodbyes, then he headed to DFW for his flight home, and I got read to head east.  Peggy offered to drive me out of the crazy morning traffic in McKinney, and I was happy to not have to deal with that.  She drove me east to the edge of the immediate Dallas suburbs, a nice place to start the day.  She offered to take me further, and it was tempting, as we were having such a great time hanging out and chatting.  It was tough to say goodbye and get on the road.  Being with friends, even for just a few short hours, is such a great luxury on this trip.  Bob and Peggy have such a great energy, amazing warmth. 

Slowly, reluctantly, I got on the road.  I had not gone a mile when the center strut of my rack snapped, and the whole load swung down onto the rear tire, carving a deep gully out of the tread and causing the bike to skid to a stop.  I tried to call Peggy right away, but I couldn’t get a cell signal.  I had to be calm - I really didn’t have a choice.  Breaking out all my tools, I managed to McGuyver the rack well enough that I could get going again.

All day I was worried about the rack breaking again, as the roads were pretty miserable.  “The Chip”, as the locals call the tar-and-chip road surfacing, is so incredibly rough.  Trouble was just starting, too.  The gouge the rack had made in the tire was causing a bulge to develop, and it was rubbing the inside of the brake caliper.  I let some pressure out, and kept hammering into the wind toward Tyler, where I was sure I would find a bike shop.  However, just outside Tyler the bulge got bigger and the tube was trying to jump through the bare strands of casing.  I had to stop and dig out my spare tire, and then replace the bad one.  Fortunately I didn’t blow the tube. 

I ate a quick lunch at Jack-in-the-Box, where I ended up chatting with a local cop.  He directed me toward a bike shop several miles south of town, and I spun down that way.  Simpsons Adventure Sports and Fitness in Whitehouse, TX is a great shop, with all good people.  When their sales manager (the owner’s daughter) Laurie overheard me talking about the trip, she grabbed her camera and interviewed me about it on video.  She’s building an adventure sports forum website, and does personal training and photography on the side.  Sounds like EnduranceGuru.  Laurie, it was great to meet you - best of luck with all your projects! 

New tire, rack strut, high-pressure mini pump, and presta valve adapter in tow, I motored east again on Rt. 64, hoping to reach Henderson TX by dark.  Not quite.  I racked up extra miles trying to find a hotel with vacancies, but still fell far short of my intended goal.  Still I rode 117 miles at 17.2 average speed over rolling hills with about 2 hours of direct headwinds.  Tomorrow will be a super long day, and I’m headed off to bed to get rested up.  Louisiana awaits.

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We happily left Brownfield and its smelly essence behind.  Whew.

Knowing that Paul would be heading home tomorrow, I set up the rack and bag on my bike and set out for a shakedown cruise.  The first 20 miles of today were a dress rehearsal for the rest of the trip.  And it went well. The extra weight isn’t much different than my fat butt when I still carry my winter weight in February.  Fine on the flats, a bit tougher on the hills.
The wind was pretty neutral today, a crosswind trying to be a tailwind.  I was able to spin nicely, and it felt fantastic.  The road was good, the temperature was in the high 50s, and it was sunny. I was motoring along smoothly, totally in a groove.  About 2:00 we realized that to get to Peggy and Bob’s by dinnertime we would have to load up the bike and motor east.  Here is what it looked like.
Texas is a crazy place.  Wide open landscapes, and lots of wildness.  The coolest thing I saw today was a flock of migrating sandhill cranes taking off from a fallow pasture, circling into a formation before heading south.  This is that land of all those great Louis L’Amour novels I read when I was a kid.  The east Texas thickets that gunslinger Cullen Baker of The First Fast Draw would hide in.  One moment it’s beautiful, the next it’s barren.  And it’s big.  Really, really big.  Everything is big, especially the distance between mile markers.

Paul and I are hanging out right now with Peggy and Bob in their gorgeous house in McKinney.  It’s great to chill out, to enjoy a few hours with no plan.  We hung out in the hot tub, had a bit of bourbon, and ate barbecued brisket.  Tomorrow Paul flies home, and I head east into Louisiana. And this adventure gets even more real.

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Welcome to Brownfield, TX.  There is a double meaning in the name, both of which are true.  The stink of sulfur is in the air, and much of the town looks like a wasted industrial zone.  Vacant storefronts, junk cars, dessicated roadkill, and a thick layer of dust everywhere. It looks like Anarene, the fictional town in The Last Picture Show. 

We checked into the Best Western, which is the only one of the several hotels in town that looked halfway decent.  The woman at the front desk saw my cycling clothes and told me that Lance Armstrong had stayed there once.  Okay, maybe something will rub off on us while we’re here.  Apparently Lance brought an entourage, including an RV with a chef, masseuse, and mechanic.  He must have been clued in to the fact that all the restaurants close at 8 pm.  We were really excited about the possibility of real Texas barbecue, but had to settle for Pizza Hut instead.

This morning we started out of Roswell a bit late, as I had to hit the snooze alarm a few times.  It paid off, as I felt much better with an extra 45 minutes of sleep.  Rolling out of Roswell at 7:45 we found the Alien Invasion store already open, where the proprietor told us that most alien sightings happen in the morning, as the aliens are attracted by the smell of brewing coffee. 

Back on the bike, I headed east.  The wind, however, headed north-northwest.  And that’s how my day went.  Fortunately, the few hills were early on, and the pavement was good.  US 380 has a really nice wide shoulder with a rumble strip separating the traffic from me, and it was pretty smooth.  Since my route keeps me on this road for about 600 miles, I’m happy about this.  However, things get different when you get into Texas.  Yes, things are bigger in Texas. . . namely the giant chunks of gravel they use for tar and chip road surfacing.  This was the roughest road I have ridden so far, and sticky with soft tar.  At least the rock chunks were too big to get stuck in my brakes, but they were banging against my frame and shins hard enough that I was worried about serious damage.  Paul gladly shuttled me to the end of the construction, and I resumed riding.  As we approached Brownfield the wind finally died off.

We crossed some wild country today.  A 72 mile stretch without so much as a crossroad in eastern New Mexico.  We saw a huge herd of pronghorn antelope, hundreds of quail, roadrunners, hawks, scissor-tailed flycatchers, giant jackrabbits, and ground squirrels.  Paul amassed a large collection of goathead burrs in his shoelaces, and managed to puncture his ankles a few times.  After piercing my heel with a cactus needle through my flip-flops a couple of days ago, I’ve tried to be extra careful about where I walk.

All in all, we’re in good shape.  We’re more than 1/3 of the way across the country, with 9 days of 23 done.  Tomorrow will be the last full day that Paul is with me.  His presence has made things so much easier, and honestly I would still be trying to get out of Arizona if I had not had his help.  Crossing the wide open spaces of the wild west would have been impossible to do on a racing bike.  So many times we encountered unsafe, unpassable roads.  The US is not a bike-friendly nation.  Since leaving San Diego, we have seen only a European-looking (lots of neon in his outfit) fellow fully loaded, heading west with the wind at his back and a grin on his face, and a couple of girls walking their loaded mountain bikes down a sand-covered road in a windstorm.  And that’s it.  In Tucson we saw numerous riders, but none venturing outside of the city.  Absolutely no one else.  The road has been a bit lonely.

I have definitely conceded that riding every inch of the way on a racing bike is not possible to do safely.  At least not within my 3-week time constraints.  I’m not sure how the Race Across America teams do it, but I do know that the route they ride is the least scenic, most direct route there is, and much of it is on the shoulder of busy 4-lane highways.  After I get off the bike tomorrow, we will have to portage to McKinney, TX, where we’ll stay with Peggy and Bob Smolen.  Paul flies home on Tuesday morning, and from there I’m on my own.  Chapter two of this adventure will be very difficult, interesting, and enlightening, I’m sure.

Thank you to everyone who has e-mailed, called, or texted me with their encouragement.  I’m sorry I haven’t been able to respond to everyone, and with very limited cell service I haven’t heard any phone messages for 5 days.  I was able to call Sam and CR at the shop today, and it was great to hear their voices and catch up.  CR had me laughing my ass off, which I really needed in the middle of today’s windy ride. 

http://www.geoffreyclark.phanfare.com/2007

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I’m exhausted, and Saturday night in Roswell, NM is not terribly exciting. I’m barely awake. Long day. I’ve left the mountains behind, and now the plains await. I’m sad - the visual excitement of the mountains has kept a smile on my face, even if the wind conditions weren’t favorable. Now the plains lay out in front of me flat and dry and barren. I’m hoping for a wicked tailwind that will let me spin all day at high speed. If so, I’ll try to put 250 miles in the bank. Just being able to spin makes such a difference in my day. I can recover so much better if the muscular stress is minimized.Today the nasty headwinds returned. I was really looking forward to today, as Mike last night had told me how beautiful this route was. Yes, it was, although I spent most of the day with my head down, pounding the pedals to keep the bike moving forward. At times, I had to stand on the pedals to go 10 mph, but the wind tried to wrest my bike out from under me as soon as I took my weight off the saddle.

We took a long lunch break at a cafe with internet access, and while our lunches digested we walked around Lincoln, the town where Billy the Kid met his end. I really didn’t want to get back on the bike, and my legs were ridiculously tired, so I procrastinated a long time. But eventually I remounted the bike and started the long descent out of the Sacramento Mountains down toward Roswell. The wind had slowed a bit, but I still was working hard just to go 15 mph . . . downhill. After 24 continuous miles of descent, I hadn’t once gone faster than 25 mph.

Around 4:30 I saw a good sign: Roswell 26 miles. And finally the wind was dying off. I ate a bag of Sport Beans and put the hammer down. The going was good for a while. And then I got my first flat tire of the trip. A quick tube change and I was back on the road. The pavement was smooth, the wind was gone, daylight was fading, and I could see Roswell on the horizon. No UFOs, though. I’m a bit bummed about that.

I traded e-mails with Peggy, with whom we’ll be staying in McKinney, TX on Monday night. It’s great to have something to look forward to. She and her husband Bob are totally cool, and it’s always great to spend time with them.

I’m off to bed. Tomorrow will be super long. Wish me luck. Here’s some photos to keep you entertained:

http://www.geoffreyclark.phanfare.com/2007

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We’re holed up for the night at the High Country Lodge in Magdalena, New Mexico.  We’re heading to bed after having beers with Mike Wilborn, the owner.  Thank you Mike for your hospitality and generosity.  Someday we’ll be back, and we’ll bring mountain bikes!

I need my sleep, so the photos will have to speak for themselves.  http://geoffreyclark.phanfare.com/album/460978/642683#imageID=29885818

I hope wherever you are you can see the moon.  Goodnight.

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Today was epic. 

I woke up on New Jersey time.  The clock read 4:11, but there was little chance of going back to sleep.  Then Paul’s broken travel alarm started going off, even though it was turned off.  Slamming it on the floor quieted it, but I was already up.

We left Tucson at dawn with the plan to meet Crabtree east of Phoenix, then ride US Route 60 northeast to Show Low, on the north end of the Fort Apache Reservation.  Tucson traffic slowed us down, but we made our way north through the desert to Florence Junction.  Multiple phone calls and text messages between Paul and Scott, and though he was trying hard to get away Scott was soon opting out.  I can’t blame him - he flew back from New York late last night, didn’t get in until midnight, and seemed to be facing a crisis at work.  On top of that he was coming down with a headcold.  Not the best way to enter into a ride like today’s. 

We arrived in Florence Junction only to find that 60 east was a truck route.  Huge semis, no shoulder, rumble strips, noise, diesel soot, gravel, and cracked pavement.  So we drove a bit further.  The route got worse as we entered the mountains, very dangerous in fact.  That part of AZ is copper mining country, and the landscape was filled with earth movers and dump trucks, and billowing clouds of smoke and dust.  Ugly.  We kept rolling to Globe.  Most of the traffic seemed to be turning southeast on 70, so we turned northeast on 60 and unloaded the bike. 

No wind.  That was a great start.  The pavement was beautiful.  The traffic was minimal.  The shoulder was smooth and wide, with a thin rumble strip separating the cars from my safe haven.  More than anything, however, the scenery was exquisite.  I can’t really find the words to describe it, so check out Paul’s photos on Phanfare:  http://geoffreyclark.phanfare.com/album/460091/641409#imageID=29830203

It was dark as we reached the edge of Show Low, AZ.  As we loaded the bike into the Explorer, the full moon peeked above the horizon, huge and close and bright.  Gorgeous.  A perfect end to a stellar day.

I’m happy that I took yesterday off.  My legs feel great, in spite of about 14,000 feet of ascent between 3,000 and 7,000 feet of elevation.  I’m heading to bed, so I can do it again tomorrow.  New Mexico, here we come.

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Tucson is a good place to decompress and recover. Paul and I spent the day being lazy, checking out local bike shops, and seeing the sights. It took us all morning to get out the door, no real plan ahead other than to do a short recovery ride. On the advice of a fellow cyclist, we visited Saguaro National Park, which has simply the smoothest pavement on the planet. There is an 8-mile loop that goes one-way through the park, twisting and turning, climbing and dropping. You can make the ride as difficult or as easy (sort of) as you like it. Having a compact drive train with an 11-28 cassette meant that I could take it really, really easy. I still had fun bombing through the curves, but eased into low gears to spin up all the climbs. My legs were stiff and tired, but after about 12 miles I started feeling loose and free of aches. Later I stretched and massaged my quads and hamstrings. A nice dinner of surprisingly good sushi - not what you expect in the middle of the desert.

Great conversation, good food, and good literature. Paul brought along Oxymoronica, and excellent book of quotes. Some nuggets:

“There is nothing wrong with sobriety in moderation”, John Ciardi

“Festina lente” (hasten slowly) Augustus Caesar

“The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep” WC Fields

“There is a stage in any misery where the victim begins to find a deep satisfaction in it” Storm Jameson in That Was Yesterday (1932)

I got an e-mail back from Jeff in San Diego. He and Samantha had to evacuate from the fires for a couple of days, but have been able to return to their home. They still have their bags packed, however. San Diego is a mess, but we’re happy they’re safe.

Tomorrow is a new day, and the winds are dying down (according to the National Weather Service). Paul and I head back up north to meet up with Crabtree, who is flying back home to Phoenix tonight. We’ll ride the mountainous section of Rt.60 through Salt Creek Canyon, which features some epic climbs and hopefully gorgeous scenery. I know you’re getting tired of all the photos of cacti - here are a few more.  http://geoffreyclark.phanfare.com/album/459121/639961#imageID=29755295

Ciao for now,

Geoff

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Yeah, that was the theme of the day.  Navigational snafus seem to be an ongoing issue.  We bought an Arizona Gazetteer map book, which has incredibly detailed maps of every road in the state.  Unfortunately, many of these roads are “proposed”.  After a late start due to the oppressive Phoenix traffic, we headed down a series of dead-end roads that seemed like perfectly good routes on the map. 

The Santa Ana winds were still blowing hard, so we decided to head southeast to Tucson instead of northeast into the wind.  Sound logic, so we thought, except that the wind direction shifted a bit so it was coming directly from the east, making most of my day a battle with 3/4 headwinds.  Not fun.

Finally, after about 30 miles of suburban stop and start traffic and a couple of nonexistent roads, we hit route 87.  Riding there makes me think that breaking bottles on the highway is the state pasttime.  Heavy truck traffic, virtually no shoulder, and long stretches of rough pavement and melted tar made it so much more fun!  Here are Paul’s photos of the day:  http://geoffreyclark.phanfare.com/album/458526

Equipment reviews so far:

Specialized S-Works 2D helmet:  excellent fit, great ventilation, incredibly light weight.  Love it.

Specialized Roubaix Expert frame:  super.  Comfy, stiff in the right places, shock absorbing.  If I were on an aluminum frame I would have quit by now. 

SRAM Rival componentry:  Not liking it.  Not much.  Double Tap shifters take too much movement to get to lower gears, and I often end up not shifting at all when I need to, or shifting to a higher gear when I want to go lower instead.  The brakes don’t have enough clearance over the tires, so stuff that gets picked up by the tires gets jammed in the brake calipers.  Several times today I had to stop when tar-covered pebbles got stuck in my brakes, then proceeded to carve grooves in my tires before I could come to a complete stop.  The PowerLink chain connector is made of cromoly and rusts if you look at it funny.  We’re in the desert;  there’s no moisture anywhere.  Yet it still manages to sqeak.  Drowning it with the lousy lube Paul found at a San Diego bike shop did the trick for a while.

Gu2o sports drink:  Thanks to Bob Hegney Jr. for hooking me up with the stuff.  Works well, and I don’t get queasy after drinking it for 8 or 9 hours. 

Specialized Eureka long-sleeved jersey:  I was surprised that I actually needed this, being that I’m in the desert, but descending from Julian on Day 1 it made the experience much more comfortable.

Specialized BG Comp shorts:  I’ve always thought these were better than the Swiss and Italian brands costing twice as much, but they’re even better than that. 

Paul also brought the Park RK-41 tool backpack, which has every tool we could possibly need on this trip.  Paul put it to good use today.  I emerged from a thick cloud of dust to find Paul “fending off” a Rottweiler and another dog with a hammer and a Bowie knife!  The dogs looked pretty damned frightened.  They certainly weren’t going to chase after me! 

The last part of the day was spent of the I-10 frontage road, endlessly pounding into the wind over the rough roads.  Paul and I mulled over the fact that in this ice-less place, roads don’t need to be re-paved more than once every 20 years or so.  Which is fine for cars, but not for bikes.  Add in the fact that many roads buckle due to the expansion from the crazy high heat.  I’m regretting not bringing my cyclo-cross bike with fat 700×32 tires. 

The truth is, I’m baked.  Done, dead, wasted.  I didn’t feel adequately prepared to do the big miles day to day that I had planned.  If I were in great shape, doing major mileage for 3 weeks straight would be no big deal.  But considering that I’m sort of riding my way into shape, I need an easy day or a rest day to let my body rebuild itself.  If I keep pushing at this pace I’m going to only get weaker.  This wind is really hurting me.  But if I can bounce back stronger in two days, and the wind has died down, I can make up time and really ride as well as I had hoped.  We’ll see where tomorrow takes us.  My goals for this trip are:  be safe, have fun, spread the word about the Endurance Guru Foundation, and get back on November 21.  That’s the plan.  Wish me luck!

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Yeah, the god of wind was in rare form.  All I can say is that I’m glad we’re out of California.  The Santa Ana winds are wreaking havoc around San Diego, and 250,000 people have been evacuated from the wildfires there.  80 mph winds make it tough to stop the progress of a fire. 

After carefully mapping out the route on MapMyRide.com Sunday night, we quickly learned the limitations of the site.  Gold Nugget Road, just outside Quartzsite, has its own freeway exit.  But 100 yards off the freeway it becomes a jeep trail, and the Roubaix has no business there.  So we drove down to the next exit, and hit the open road.  And I mean OPEN road.  I could see for miles and miles across the valley as I followed Rt. 60 north.  The pavement was rough, and my feet and hands went numb after half an hour from the incessant vibration.  And bit by bit the wind started to ratchet up, as did the grade.  Fortunately the pavement became silky smooth as I spun up and up toward the town of Salome.  The grade wasn’t steep, just long, and after 6 or 7 miles of climbing I looked back over a vast expanse of desert.  Stunning scenery.

At Salome we made a right turn onto Buckeye-Salome Highway, one of the most perfect roads anywhere.  The pavement was smooth, the desert scenery spectacular, and the wind was at my side, which was only mildly annoying.  I spun smoothly along at 20 mph, enjoying the beautiful silence, amazingly fresh air, and the cool temperature of an early desert morning.  I enjoyed an hour and a half on this incredible stretch of road, until it suddenly turned into a dirt track.  Paul drove ahead in the Explorer, and turned around quickly, knowing it was impassible for me.  I was tempted to turn around ride that road again the other way, but we decided instead to portage.  Back onto I-10 to the next exit, then down to Buckeye-Salome Highway, which was paved again.  So we backtracked to the end of the pavement, then after a quick bite of lunch we hit the road again.  The wind was whipping, not directly in my face but at an angle where every gust hurt like a punch from an invisible fist. 

I eventually found a gear that let me spin at 80-90 rpms most of the time.  Any less, and I am relying entirely on strength and not fitness and technique, and would eventually end up exhausted and sore.  Another 50 miles of banging into the wind, and we rolled into Phoenix.  http://geoffreyclark.phanfare.com/album/457535#imageID=29635721

We spent the night at the home of Paul’s friends Scott and Stacy Crabtree, who were actually back in New York for a wedding.  Scott and I had met once before, when he and a buddy joined up with our Longest Day team on the road for the long hot stretch through the pine barrens.  Stacy’s mom, Stephanie Mendez was there watching their daughter Ellie, so we hung out with her for a while.  She recommended a great Mexican restaurant, and Paul and I had another great meal. 

I slept like a rock.  Trying to write a post after dinner, I fell asleep on the computer multiple times.  I woke up in the morning with Bucky the cat glued to my side, just like it would be at home with Lucas and Fiona piled on top of me and Maxine biting my toes. 

Thank you Scott and Stacy and Stephanie and Ellie for your hospitality.  You have a beautiful house and a lovely family.

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