Ready
By admin | May 9, 2011
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Chiefland to Inglis, FL
38 miles
One of Larry’s friends stopped by to chat as I was packing up this morning. He’s a recumbent cyclist, so we talked shop a bit. Larry laughed and laughed about my raccon-eyes tan from my sunglasses. I guess you can see it better in the daylight. I hiked up my bike short leg and he nearly choked laughing about that dramatic tan line. “Oh, we’d see you coming in a bikini!” he chortled. “Other people notice, they just don’t say anything to you about it.” I’m pretty sure that’s true.
We sat down for a minute, and Larry said a beautiful prayer for me to send me safely on my journey. We said, “See you later,” and I went on my way.
I wasn’t too far out of Chiefland when I caught up with a cyclist. He was wearing a backpack and had little other gear, so I figured he was local. Ronald, it turned out, had gotten here from Cinncinati in ten days. Today he was taking it easy.
He was riding sixteen hour days, all the daylight hours. He was mostly fueled by coffee and Pepsi, and he was guerilla camping. At 43, his kids were grown and successful, in Sweden studying water treatment systems on a grant from New York City. He was divorced, retired from the Navy, and a master electrician. He heard there might be work in Tampa, and if that didn’t work out, he would head to Miami, where his mother lived.
He’d had his bike basket and pump stolen on Atlanta, and been stopped by the police “for questioning” pretty regularly on this trip. He worked at a Waldorf school when he was younger, and spoke German and Spanish. He said he was from Germany, though his accent sounded Spanish-speaking to me. He had a metal rod in his arm, from when it had been blown off by a grenade. He’d served in both the first and the second Gulf Wars.
We rode together for most of the day. We talked about being free on the bike. You’re not in any kind of a box. You’re not in a cubicle, not in a car, not in a house. You’re not addicted to TV. We stopped at a gas station, where we told our stories to a woman with a Boston accent and her chain-smoking mother, and a man with a growth on his nose. They were amazed. Everyone agreed that I must be carrying too much stuff and that I had the biggest calves anyone had ever seen. Ronald had on long pants, so we did not scrutinize his legs.
I had a peanut butter sandwich by the side of the road, while Ronald drank more coffee. As we went to get back on the road, he saw my front tire was totally flat. We went back to the little spot of shade and I started pulling all my gear off the bike so I could change it. He offered to help, but understood when I said I needed to practice doing it myself. It was way easier to change this tube than the last one. I have no idea what made it so.
We both checked the old inner tube, and couldn’t find where air was escaping, so I ran my finger along the inside of the tire and found a short piece of wire sticking out. Good thing Ronald was with me, because he had a pair of pliers, which the police in Georgia almost took away from him (!), and I did not. Done and done.
Of course the last five miles to my campground were hotter and windier and harder than the rest of the day. The sun was at its peak. We stopped more in those last five miles than we had in the previous thirty, but we finally came upon River Road. I went to check in and Ronald went on to find a cool place to rest before getting back on the road til dark. He’d heard the police in Citrus County, which we’d just entered, were bothersome, and he wanted to be through it before night.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m white, or a woman, or it’s my energy, or because I just look like a recreational traveler with my brightly colored gear, but I do not get stopped by public safety personnel. The few times I have interacted with them on this trip, they have been asking if I’m OK. Even though Ronald’s encounters with them tended to end with, “Sorry for the inconvenience; thank you for your service to our country,” the idea that he does get handcuffed and his gear searched on a regular basis made me uncomfortable on a number of levels.
For one thing, they say they don’t profile, but they do. But at the same time, I don’t want to be around if it is happening. I know I have a lot of unearned privilege that allows me to move through life with relative ease. I try to appreciate that, because I like being under the radar. A lot of variables have to line up for me, nearing 40, to be able to traipse around the country generally unimpeded. I feel very lucky that I am in this space.
Connie, who manages the RV park, has been “on sabbatical” for about a year, since she gave up her job in the mortgage business. “Everyone hates you by the time a deal is done,” she said of that work, “what kind of a way to live is that?”
She has time to read now. She’s held some amazing women’s retreats out here, with meditation and beaches and massages. Like Ronald, she found that money doesn’t mean anything if you’re not happy. We talked about what we did with our stuff. It just didn’t have the same importance anymore.
“Take this desk, I could burn it tonight. I wouldn’t care. And I could probably replace it tomorrow with something from a yard sale twice as cute.”
I thought about Ahni telling me in Seattle that I would find my tribe wherever I go. I don’t even have to look for them!
Connie offered me a ride to Spring Hill tomorrow, which is a day’s ride for me. When I was setting up my tent, one of my poles snapped.
See the pointy part of the orange pole? It’s not supposed to look like that.
I think it’s a sign that I should take the ride.
For a few days now, I’ve been heading south to my dad’s house in St. Petersburg. I had been planning to meet him at the I-75, around Gainesville, because I didn’t think I could get all the way to St. Pete’s in time for his deadline. When I meet him, we’re going to head up to Illinois in his RV, and he has a timeline. As I got closer, I realized I could easily make it all the way to his house, and with this ride, I’ll probably be two days early!
Really, I’m ready for a break.
Character
By admin | May 9, 2011
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Perry to Chiefland, FL
68 miles
The beginning of the road was a little irritating today. I arrived in Athena, and the only building was a bike shop. Cool!
Oh. A motorcycle shop. And no convenient store either.
Then there was a lot of road narrowing, which really means the shoulder narrows, which means I have to swing out in to the road. But the way they do it is with stripes and bumps leading up to the narrow part which make biking on the shoulder more difficult.
I don’t quite get the point of these. Are they reminding drivers not to drive on the shoulder? Do drivers in Florida need that dramatic of a reminder?
Coming into Cross City, I knew there was a bike path somewhere, but mostly I was looking for someplace to eat. First, I met Artie and Moon. They’re retired, and they described how they often bike 43 miles on the trail with their 83 year old friend, stopping at all the Hardee’s along the way to drink tea! You’re never too old to bike, says Artie, a retired truck driver, whose hobby is rebuilding bikes. You just have to find the bike that fits you. Like me, he rides a red Giant, though he has rebuilt his several times, most recently after he was run over on it and in a coma four days from Monday to Thanksgiving. It took him nine months to heal from that, and fixing up the bike he got hit on was a big part of that. “I like that bike the best,” he says. “I guess it’s just sentimental.”
When they’re not biking, this crew sits at the picnic table on the bike path under a gazebo and watches traffic. “We’re retired. We ain’t got nothing else to do.” That’s how I met them. I came into town on the road, and they yelled, “Hey, girl on the bicycle! Get off the road! The path is over here!” They also seem to spend a lot of time listening to Artie’s tales of love and loss. Just in the time I was there, I heard how he had his heart broken in Seattle, Pheonix and El Cajon!
I had lunch at a tacky but serviceable BBQ place across the street, where I met a nice couple who were taking a break from flying their small plane. It was a really bumpy day in the air, too. They had an interesting view of the unpaved roads, hunt clubs and tree farms from up there. When I left, I had to check in with Artie and Moon, who were still keeping an eye on traffic. I was happy to get off the road and start down the path.
I soon came across another rider, and I mistakenly asked him if he was retired, too. Oh, no. Mr. Websmartsuccess moved here from Miami to help his son. “Wrong answer!” he said. I guess it’s not working out that well for him. “They still use DSL out here!” I mentioned I had seen a lot of cell towers. The towers are here, he told me, but they’re not plugged in. He also railed against the retired people going to Hardee’s to drink tea. He goes there to use the wifi, but they only have one outlet and they don’t like people to use it, because they think it will run up their bill. He brings a “brick,” a power strip.
He had nothing nice to say about the people who lived around here. “Just stay out of their yards and don’t mess with their dogs,” he advised. I declined to share his brick at Hardee’s, and kept on, starting to feel like I was in Carl Hiassen’s Florida now.
I met a music teacher and her husband. They described the locals as “interesting.” It’s a beautiful area, but there’s no call for a music teacher here, and no gigs either. On July 1, they’re moving to Gainesville after nine years, due to gas prices. Her husband had been commuting an hour each way, and the savings in gas would cover the higher housing prices.
I asked what they thought about canoeing on the Suwannee, and they told me the story of when a 200 pound sturgeon almost jumped in their boat! People get killed that way every year, apparently. Sometimes they keep a scorecard that reads like: Sturgeons 10, People 0. We also talked about dying towns along the railway lines, and rebuilding along the Gulf. People do seem hopeful, the music teacher said. That’s really all you can do, is hope. Just like biking. You can be miserable or you can just keep going.
“When you get to St. Petersburg,” she said, “tell your dad he should be proud of you! What an accomplishment.”
“Oh, my parents all think I’m crazy,” I said.
“Well, that’s the best way to be, now, isn’t it,” she replied.
Manatee Springs State Park is six and a half miles off route, but it sounds really nice. I also needed to do laundry today. I called the park, and they said I would have to check in before 7:30. I believe that makes them the only campground I have ever experienced that does not have some kind of late check in arrangement, be it an honor envelope or find a spot and pay in the morning when the office opens. They did not care that I was coming by bicycle and would probably arrive by eight if I stopped to do laundry. Though they did give me very good directions to a laundromat behind a private RV park.
Well, I stopped at the RV park first.
The office sign pointed to an RV that looked a little daunting, but I stepped right up and knocked on the door.
A big dog barked, and a large, shirtless man with red shorts and white stubble on his head opened the door. Larry’s jaw nearly dropped off his face when I said I’d biked here from San Diego, but he said to set down for a while.
They don’t normally allow tents, but he would make an exception for me. In fact, he didn’t even charge me. So there, Manatee Springs! And I got to hear about his plans.
Larry got divorced when he was about 36, and he was all set to ride his horse across the country, and then he got cancer. He was in the hospital for a year. During that time, the woman he had been dating wanted to get married. So they did. But then she wanted him to change his life insurance policy to benefit her, rather than his mother.
“I’ve only known you for two years,” he told her, “but I’ve known my mother all my life. If I die, she’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
She asked for a divorce, and he gave it to her. Then he married a nurse. Then they got a divorce, and he lived, and he married the woman he’s been married to now for 21 years.
When they first got married, he made a plan to build a hay wagon, and they would travel across the country in that. His wife’s a beautician, and she would cut hair for donations to support them. He bought a beautiful horse, seventeen hands high. He trained it to always walk a foot from the edge of the road, and cars didn’t bother it a bit. He arranged with a man to weld a lightweight cart using of a pickup trailer. He and his wife went to Gainesville for the weekend, and when they came back, the horse had died of colic!
“I’ll get a mule and train it,” he told her, “they can eat anything and not get colic.”
“I’m not going,” she said. “Don’t you see? This is a sign!”
She suggested a houseboat, and he agreed, but only on rivers and bays. But they weren’t comfortable enough to navigate it through those tricky parts. She said she’d travel on a sailboat, and he said he’d tried that already and would never do it again.
He told me how a three-day sail from here to Key West had turned in to an eleven-day odyssey, with storms, drugs, pirates, losing generators, being becalmed and everything, all with his seventeen-year-old son aboard. That was the last time he’d do that. So here he was, still in this trailer park.
He has a bike with an electric motor, and figures he could easily do one hundred miles a day at 30 miles per hour. He has a trailer for his big German Shepherd to ride in. He hasn’t given up on the idea yet.
Beyond that, Larry’s life has been both charmed and amazing. He told me stories half the night. Some parts were horrible, and some hilarious, some heart-wrenching and some crazy. He says his goal in life now is to be as nice to people as he was mean for the first forty years of his life. His story is about redemption, hope, change, and the possibility of religion as a force for good. I can’t even begin to recount what he’s told me, but I hope he writes it down someday soon for others to learn from. I am honored to have had a small chance to listen. There is nothing hard about helping people, he says. Thank you, Larry.
Whoosh!
By admin | May 6, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Newport to Perry, FL
42 miles
For one thing, how did it get to be Friday again so soon?
Today was a pretty quick day. There was not much to stop at between Newport and Perry, so I just kept going. It wasn’t totally desolate, like I’d been warned. There were boat ramps and mining facilities and hunting club properties, and a few wildlife management area picnic groves. I stopped at one of those for an extended snack and rest.
In Perry, I stocked up on groceries, finally succeeding in finding macaroni and cheese at the Winn-Dixie deli. Yay! Then I cruised into the Perry KOA around 2:30, which is a pretty early day for me. I did yoga, swam in the pool, soaked in the hot tub, and sat inside the clubhouse to use the internet in a mosquito-free environment. Lovely!
I think I’ve got a route figured out to make it all the way to St. Petersburg before my dad leaves his house. We’ll see how it goes!
Touring
By admin | May 6, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Tallahassee to Wakulla Springs to Newport
34 miles
I thought I got a late start yesterday, finally getting on the road about 9am due to crossing into the Eastern time zone. But today I didn’t even get up til nine! After doing my laundry and Scott and Laura feeding me oatmeal and cantaloupe, I headed out at 11:30. Scott and Laura accompanied me on their tandem for a few miles, but they had to get back to open the shop at noon. Of course, there’s no way to thank them enough for taking such good care of me! I’m so lucky I ended up at their bike shop!
They had pointed me in the direction of a grocery store, because I was out of electrolytes for my water, but of course I wanted to eat everything there. They, sadly, also had no macaroni and cheese at their deli, but they did have yummy breads and rolls and couscous salad.
After the store, I headed for St. Mark’s Trail, a rails-to-trails trail. The first few miles were being resurfaced, but I was eventually able to get on it. What a lovely trail! It was wide and smooth, and they paved over driveways, rather than up to them. This meant fewer bumps! There were also bathrooms every few miles, and a few parks, parking areas, benches in shady spots, and drinking fountains.
Every trail should be so nice! Also, at most of the roads it crossed, car traffic had a stop sign and bike traffic had the right of way!
Unfortunately, I had to leave the path to get to Wakulla Springs. This might have been the first
time I went deliberately off route to a sight-seeing destination. Five miles out and five miles back! It had come highly recommended from several sources, plus I was taking a short day anyway. And there were alligators!
It was a beautiful day, but not quite hot enough for me to swim in 69 degree water. I enjoyed looking at the beautiful blues of the spring,
and the water was amazingly clear. I took the boat ride, a slow nature cruise down the spring fed river. We could see the bottom the whole time. There were alligators,
frolicking deer,
Suwanee Cooter turtles,
Anhingas and Anhinga babies, Osprey, Wood Ducks and Wood Duck babies, several kinds of herons, egrets, Cormorants,
and other birds whose names I can’t remember.
At the lodge, I had a Ginger Yip, which is basically a vanilla milkshake made with Ginger ale instead of milk, and looked at a very large stuffed alligator.
It was a very enjoyable afternoon. I rode the last ten miles to the Newport County Park campground, and set up camp. Jim Russell, his fiancé Connie, and his son, Grayson, came out to see me for a short visit.
Jim is a distance cyclist from Tallahassee who heard about me from Carl and Sallie, the brother and sister riding in support of MADD, whom I had met a few days ago, so he contacted me through my blog. Jim is on the FSU police force and does a lot of work to reduce drunk driving as well. He has put together a six hundred mile bike ride in Florida, and one circumnavigating the state. He is really interested in supporting long-distance cyclists, and someday hopes to do RAAM himself. He brought out snacks, water, a regular bike pump, (so much easier to use than my smaller road pump–a treat!), and, perhaps most imoportantly, bug spray. The noseeums at this campground are pretty intense. I would have liked to talk longer, but the bugs made it difficult.
Jim said that a cyclist is only as good as his crew, and between Jim and Connie’s appearance and the amazing folks at the Bicycle House, I must be doing OK. And that only takes into account the people who have helped me since yesterday afternoon!
Wednesday, May 4
Chattahoochee, GA to Tallahassee, FL
43 miles according to Google Maps
Look, I really was in Georgia. My campground was about a mile over the border. You can see the change in the street surface at the state line. I think states try to dis each other by having a nicer looking road on their side of the line.
I went right back to Florida in the morning to get back on route, and promptly climbed up the two steepest hills in Florida. I don’t know where those came from!
At lunch, I stopped at Piggly Wiggly. I have always loved macaroni and cheese from the grocery store deli. But they didn’t have any! So I ate fried chicken instead. Mr. McMillan, the gentleman who crashed into me, happened to see me stop, so he came in to apologize to me again. He’s very sweet, and I know he never meant to hurt anyone! I just hope he is looking where he is going!
A little later, I pulled into a gas station and my rack fell off the back of the bike, panniers and all! I wish I had a picture of that, but I was behind a UPS truck that was about to start backing up when it happened. A Pepsi delivery guy helped me carry it out of the way. When I got everything apart, I could see how the slots in the brackets where the bolts go were wrenched open, probably from the accident. If I had some washers, it would hold for at least a little while.
Luckily, the Pepsi delivery truck back gate lift was broken, and when their repair guy showed up, he had washers and better tools. He helped me put it back together and I went on my way.
There were a bunch of bike shops in Tallahassee, but the Bicycle House was right on the Adventure Cycling route. I couldn’t have ended up anyplace better! The owner, Scott, was a former bike racer, and was hoping to one day have a hostel for touring cyclists in addition to the shop, or possibly a series of hostels. His girlfriend, Laura, is a biochem student. Their shop is a non-profit community organization. They fed me dinner, and I zoned out while Scott put new brackets on my rack, tightened up my headset, straightened my brakes, and installed a third odometer. Had I mentioned that the accident killed my new odometer?
Their small, black dog Beauty, ran around underfoot while a steady stream of locals came in to work on their bikes, chat, or think about buying stuff. Jake and another Scott worked on their fixies. Roy came in late to work on his bike, but then wanted to see my pictures from the trip, so I showed him all of them. Laura and Scott have an interesting apartment behind the shop, with bath mats made out of old bike inner tubes and lamps made of other bike parts. They invited me to sleep on their couch, and I was so thankful not to have to go any farther. I was so tired, I even passed up ice cream!
I was pretty crabby about being hit by a car, but being surrounded by great people who love biking made me excited to get back on the road!
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Bonifay, FL to Chattahoochee, GA
Close to 55 miles
I’m only in Georgia because of the campground a mile over the border, and because I’m so close to it. I’ll be back in Florida first thing in the morning, and then for the rest of this trip.
First, the nice part of the day. About eight miles in this morning, I met Sallie and Carl, a sister and brother from Florida and Texas. They were heading west, having quite recently started. They will go up through Mobile, Alabama, then follow the Underground Railroad trail to Kentucky, then to Oregon on the Transamerica route. They have a big summer ahead of them!
They are fundraising for Mothers Against Drunk Driving, and they’re super nice. You can donate at their website, warmersummers.com, if you’re interested. They are also the only people I’ve seen who actually look like they’re carrying more than me.
Other than that, today was not my favorite day. This part of Northern Florida is like the south-est of the south. They have more guns and god, including more offensive gun advertising than anywhere else I have been. Most of the men under thirty look like mean neo-Nazi skinheads. At one gas station today, two barely intelligible farmer/hunter/swamp types tried to give me directions. All I could make out was a warning about “the blacks,” and something about Nancy Pelosi. Pickup truck engines are louder here than anywhere else, and cars seem to pass closer to me, rather than moving left. I see a lot of tailgating, the drive real fast and slam on the brakes right behind someone kind.
And I got hit by a car. Though I’m fine, just some scrapes on my arm. And it caused my new odometer to stop working! I’ll be in Tallahassee tomorrow, so I’ll stop at a bike shop to make sure everything else is fine with my bike. It seems OK.
A man in a pickup barely stopped at a stop sign, then turned right, into oncoming traffic, which was me, so I ran right into the side of his truck, fell over, and slid on the ground. He was so apologetic, and he said he just didn’t see me, which was obvious. He was a cute little old man, and I wonder if he should be driving. Everyone stopped, and a police woman was there about two minutes later, because she just happened to be driving by. We filled out an accident report, paramedics came and said I looked fine, too, and I rode five more miles to my campground. I can’t go swimming in the lake because there are alligators.
Thank goodness that was the worst of it. Tomorrow is another day.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Ft. Walton Beach to Bonifay, FL
15 miles in the car
62 miles by bike
Jenny and Jim drove me past the crowded beach highway with no shoulder to a better starting point this morning, on their way to the community dental van. We said goodbye, then I loaded up.
They apologized for “just leaving me by the side of the road.” But that’s pretty much where I spend all my time these days!
Today I decided to write down every time I stopped, and what I did at each stop. Perhaps this will give a better idea of what my days are like. I was on the road from 8am to 6:30pm today, but the times I recorded are riding times from my odometer, not time of day.
39 minutes; 7 miles: I’d been riding through Eglin Air Force Base and I had to pee, but I was nervous about stepping into the woods on the edge of a military base where they test artillery and on the day after Osama Bin Laden was announced dead. But finally, I had to do it. No one tried to apprehend me. In fact, no one noticed. Then I took one bite of my Payday bar, and put on sunscreen.
1 hour 28 min.; 16.8 miles: Stopped at the first gas station (the first anything) I’d seen so far. Used the bathroom. You have to take indoor plumbing when you can get it! Drank half a bottle of water. Stretched. Checked map–looks like 14 miles to DeFuniak Springs and another 27 after that to Bonifay. Changed to my sunglasses.
2 hours 20 min.; 25.6 miles: Drank half a bottle of water. Squeezed my tires. They seemed fine. Filled empty water bottle from one of the extra liters strapped on the panniers, tossed in an electrolyte tablet. I pretty much don’t drink straight water anymore during the day. Stretched. Ate a cup of yogurt. Wished there was shade and a place to lay down. Put on lip balm.
2 hours 57 min.; 31.5 miles: Stopped for lunch at picturesque and shady picnic table at noon in DeFuniak Springs for PB and J. Surfed the Internet. Apparently this lake is almost perfectly round.
So far today, the weather has been pleasant. Humid, but cool and mostly overcast. Great smooth road surface with a big shoulder, except for in the town of DeFuniak Springs. There, the shoulder disappeared and was replaced by a strange ridge right next to a curb. But with two lanes in each direction, it’s easy for cars to go around me. I haven’t spoken to anyone since I left my friends this morning, and I’ve had “We Didn’t Start the Fire” in and out of my head all morning. At 1:03, I left my lunch spot.
3 hours 1 min.; maybe 1:06 pm: Ka-thunk, Ka-thunk. Flat tire. I rolled off the street to a shady spot, finished the Payday bar, and took all the gear off the bike. I found the hole in the inner tube and patched it. It took about an hour and I called Ben three times just to double check, but I fixed it! It’s pretty great to have come this far without a flat until now.
After all this, I really had to pee, so I ducked into the (car) tire place across the street. When I came out, Joe, the owner of the local bike shop, stopped by to make sure I was OK. He wasn’t open on Mondays, but saw me out there when he passed by. Since I had already taken care of the tire myself, I asked him route questions, and we looked at my map. We talked about riding through the Air Force Base, and he told me the story of a friend who stepped too far into the woods to pee and was taken “prisoner of war” for 12 hours during training exercises!
3 hours 37 min.; 38.2 miles: Hungry. Stuck some almonds in my back pocket so I could snack while riding.
3 hours 59 min.; 42.5 miles: Still hungry. Stopped at Sally’s Restaurant in Ponce de Leon. Drank a small pitcher of sweet tea and ate a delicious BLT. Tried to remember to take Arnica to prevent muscle soreness.
The cook told me how she weighed 300 pounds a year ago and suffered from debilitating asthma. She took this job and started smoking again, and she had lost 150 pounds and the asthma was in remission. She was getting ready to exercise more and give up smoking, though.
4 hours 40 min.; 50.4 miles: Stopped to take a picture of this river’s name.
Remembered to take Arnica. A self-supported rider pulled up. Randy, retired, from Minnesota, had recently started in St. Augustine, Florida, and was heading west. It was rough going so far, and he was wondering if he was too old. He had done several similar tours over the last 20 years. I reminded him how you don’t have anything else to do all day. You might as well ride. I also recommended jumping on the train if need be, but he didn’t seem too in to that. He told me how he’d been guerilla camping. Joe had mentioned that, too. Having a tent that is not electric blue, like mine, is a good start.
We parted with the cyclist’s traditional, “May the wind be at your back,” but he said he’d take a few days of headwinds as I finished up my tour! Sweet!
5 hours 18 min.; 57.8 miles: Took a drink and checked my tire at the top of a hill, looking at the next hill going up. Looked at the map, returned a text to my dad, shook out a shoe, because it felt like there was a bug in it.
5 hours 28 min.; 59.8 miles: Stopped at a gas station for a pit stop. Filled a water bottle at their soda fountain. Bought some puffy mints. Asked for directions. The clerk said she didn’t travel, had lived there all her life, and could only tell me how to get to the freeway.
5 hours 33 min.; 60.6 miles: Stopped to take this picture of a sign advertising concealed carry weapons classes.
Thought I’d see this sort of thing more in Texas, but didn’t.
5 hours 37 min.; 61.2 miles: Forgot to buy a small milk at the last gas station for my morning cereal, so stopped at the next. Chatted with a woman getting gas. She pointed out the turn for the campground. She thought it might be nice to start riding locally.
5 hours 43 min.; 61.8 miles: Checked in at the campground office, tripped over their dog, and laughed at their cat, who looked like she was sticking her tongue out at me. Turns out it was a mystery medical problem where she was losing control of her mouth! Oops.
I feel like the amount of stops in the last part of the day is more like what I usually do, though I am riding for much longer stretches at a time compared to when I started. Also, I moved faster than usual today.
In addition to all this excitement, I had many thoughts today that are expressed far better than I could by MLK, Jr.:
”I mourn the loss of thousands of precious lives, but I will not rejoice in the death of one, not even an enemy. Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”
Thanks to the many who posted this quote on facebook today. Spread love, my friends.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Ft. Walton Beach
Rest day
I was so glad to have a rest day! This week’s riding really wore me out. But it was still a fun, full day. Briefly:
I slept late, then Jenny and I went to the beach and relaxed. I did yoga when we got back. Then, Jim took us out on the boat for a tour of the bay.
After that, he helped me check out my bike tire. When we tried to pump it up, the valve stem broke! It’s nice when stuff like that happens in a garage with people around to help. Jim and I (mostly Jim) changed the inner tube. I would be all set for the next day’s riding.
In the evening, Jenny and I picked up her mom and went to dinner.
More reminiscing and motherly concern! It was wonderful to see Pat! She and Jenny are so lucky to live so close together.
Later, Jenny and Jim and I went out for frozen custard! A thorough and lovely day of rest.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Big Lagoon State Park to Fort Walton Beach
61 miles
I left Big Lagoon with directions to the Coffee Cup, the diner in Pensacola recommended by roadfood.com. I like to have a big stop in the middle of the day, around a good meal if possible. Fifteen miles is not exactly the middle of a sixty mile day, but I couldn’t pass up being this close to such a highly touted greasy spoon. I actually left without eating my normal cereal breakfast. I did have an apple and a few almonds, because I still need some energy to get the fifteen miles down the road.
Of course I still stopped once or twice on the way there. At least once to put on sunscreen, and another stop at a gas station to fill up a water bottle. They’re just hard for me to pass up! Especially if they’re on my side of the road and I don’t have to navigate across several lanes of traffic to get there. At this stop, the clerk came out and asked me if you could get a different seat for your bike, if the one you had was too small or something. I’m sure he wasn’t looking for quite the lecture I launched into about all the different types of bike seats you could get, but how really, smaller is better, since there’s less chafing surface, and I had rode here from California on this one. He ran back inside to ring another customer up, and came back out.
“You rode from California on this thing?” he asked wide-eyed and incredulously, and all that.
“Well I took the train for a couple of parts, but mostly, yep.”
He just shook his head and went back inside. I headed on my way.
Breakfast was good. The biscuits were so light and not at all greasy. I asked for a second one after I finished, which, as it turns out, is how it actually works. Your breakfast comes with up to two biscuits, but they only bring them one at a time so they are still light and fluffy when you eat them. Except they don’t actually tell you this. I heard someone else request a second biscuit, and I thought I just couldn’t leave without having another. I tried to get them to add it to my ticket, and they said, oh, no, it comes that way. So now I feel a bit as if I know the biscuit secret.
The rest of my breakfast was not as amazing as I’d hoped, but I think I ordered poorly. The website said to smother everything in their tomato gravy, which I saw on the menu but decided against, so of course I regretted that later. Also, I skipped grits. What was I thinking? And I later saw someone eating french toast that looked fabulous. But I did have two excellent biscuits. So now it was 9:30 and I still had 45 more miles to go.
About a mile after breakfast, I had to cross the Pensacola Bay Bridge, a three-mile long bridge. Signs ahead of it instructed drivers, “Check fuel. Long Bridge.” My belly was full and I had plenty of water, so I kept on. It’s mostly a flat bridge, with a small hill in the middle. It has a wide shoulder, rather than a bike lane. Unfortunately, I had to ride directly into the wind to cross it. I just crawled over that bridge. Going up the hill got a little easier at first, because the hill blocked the wind. But at the top, where it usually gets a little easier, it got harder, with the wind coming over the top again. I barely rolled down the other side at a top speed of eight miles per hour. Most other bridges I had easily gotten up to nearly twenty. I try not to complain about this sort of riding, because it’s not like you can expect to avoid all challenging riding situations. But I do make a lot of noise. It seems to help.
At the next gas station I stopped at, I called Ben to ask about mitigating the sand on my chain. He explained how to give it an oil bath. Wow, did that make a difference! I should have asked him that a few days back! Then I met a woman named Amanda.
Amanda thought she wouldn’t have the stamina to do a bike trip. I tried to explain how you just build it up. You just need time. I enjoyed talking to her. She took my picture. She is a photographer and a painter. http://amandalongart.blogspot.com/ Here is her website. She encouraged me to go over the Pensacola Beach Bridge and ride along the Gulf to the Navarre Bridge, rather than riding down highway 98. She described the bike path that followed the road along that stretch. She also mentioned there was a little festival going on in Navarre this afternoon.
Now, riding on bike paths can be great, because being separated from traffic really is a treat. But, on the other hand, they usually have a rougher surface than the road to begin with. After that, they tend to have more cracks and bumps since they are not as well maintained as roads, and driveways cut through them, creating more bumps. So they tend to be a slower and less comfortable ride.
I also knew that the wind would be stronger at the beach, because there were not as many trees or buildings to break it, and today it was blowing almost straight at me.
I knew all this, and I still decided that riding along the beach on a bike path would be preferable. The shoulder had not been that great on 98 so far, and, it’s not like I have anything else to do all day. I was heading to a grade school friend’s house for the night, but it seemed like the beach route was the way to go.
A little ways over the bridge, the bike path ended at a parking lot. Wait a minute, I thought, it’s supposed to go the whole way! But then I looked up and realized I was right in front of a shop that served Boba Tea! And organic homemade Popsicles! I was still pretty full from breakfast, but I couldn’t pass up at least a Popsicle.
There’s a place on Adams Avenue in San Diego called Viva Pops that has incredible tasting pops, and I hoped these would measure up. (If you live in San Diego and haven’t been there yet, go there. Eat two! http://www.ilovevivapops.com/) At Beach Pops, (http://www.beachpops.com/) I had a mango/guava/lemon/coconut milk pop. Awesome! If I wasn’t already stuffed, I would have had an amazing smoothie with boba, too.
The owner was telling me how BP had been cleaning up the beaches here up til last month. Amanda had also mentioned how a lot of people are getting sick, and they think it’s because of the oil spill. You sure can’t tell from looking at the beaches, though. They look pristine and white like sugar!
Gorgeous! Like Amanda said, I’m still not sure how I feel about eating the seafood. Just because you can’t see it anymore, doesn’t mean it’s not still affecting things. My Uncle Bill was saying not to be too worried, because there is always some oil in the Gulf. I’ve also heard that repeated testing of local fish has shown nothing unusual. At least I don’t have to be exposed to it regularly, myself, and I wish the best for the people that live here and do.
The headwind was bad down the beach. But it was beautiful. I now understand why so many places down here have the word “emerald” in them. (The first place I noticed was a lingerie place called Emerald Fantasies, and I just couldn’t figure out how they came up with that.) The color of the water is just incredible! Way more enticing than ugly southern California beaches!
But I tried to put the headwind in perspective. In New Mexico, the day that Anna picked me up, I was struggling in my lowest gear at a top speed of four and a half miles per hour. It was hard to keep going. Here, I was spinning comfortably, two to four gears above my lowest, at seven to eight miles per hour. Sometimes a little less. It was still challenging and draining, but certainly doable. After I barely made it 20 miles in the New Mexico wind, I felt like I couldn’t go on. Fifteen miles down this barrier island, I was growing tired, but was mostly hungry.
Luckily, that’s when I arrived at the Fun Fest Amanda had mentioned. Mmmmmm. Fair food. I had a pulled pork sandwich. (At home, I rarely eat any meat at all. But when I am traveling, especially in this strenuous way, I eat just about anything.) Then I couldn’t pass up a dreamsicle sundae. Scoops of orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream, with orange sauce. It was over the top, but it was good.
While I was indulging in that excess, I watched the local Fun Fest beauty queens parade across the stage. One was a babe in arms, one a toddler, then the others were six, eleven, thirteen and sixteen years old. They had impressive tiaras and small retinues that followed them around the festival. I looked for the pageant moms. I hope they are learning something and having fun. The six year old won the “Spirit of the Pageant” award. She just smiled and smiled and smiled. Maybe it was because she had a kind and generous spirit, and maybe she just didn’t really know what was going on. Of course she was nice to everyone! What six year old isn’t adorable in a tiara and a foofy dress?
If I were eleven, I’d pick this sort of dress, too.
The Navarre Bridge was headed north, so I had a tailwind for that very short time. Yippee! But, the separate bike lane was so narrow.
At some point, it stayed narrow, but changed to this tacked on, wiggly, more open railing lane. I just couldn’t ride, because I kept imagining the bike tire slipping under the railing, and it made me have vertigo, so I walked the bike. Later, when I looked at my bags, I realized they had holes in the sides from rubbing on the close walls of that lane! I wish I had thought of that and started pushing earlier.
Once back on the mainland, the wind was better because there were so many things to block it, so I made much better time to Jenny Garrison’s house, with fewer stops. Jenny had lived down the street from us in Crystal Lake, but her family had moved away in about 1986. I had seen her a few times briefly since then, but not for over 15 years. Our moms were still in touch. It’s both comforting and a strange adventure to see and stay with someone you haven’t been in touch with for almost 20 years. We had a lot of catching up to do.
With two miles to go and my energy flagging, a car pulled up alongside me. A young man yelled out, “Where you heading?” and asked if I would pull over so we could talk. This is how I met Dane, a touring cyclist who had recently relocated here from North Carolina. He loves bike touring, and had recently completed the transamerica route, but is now spending some time settled down as a beer brewer. It’s a great job, as jobs go, but he has to stay in one place.
He checked out my bike and we talked about all different types of gear. He highly recommended Brooks leather saddles. He started out with buckets strapped to is bike to carry his stuff, but is now a fan of Ortlieb panniers. His enthusiasm for bike touring was infectious. I was just ready to be at the end of my day.
We also both agreed that Florida drivers are not the most considerate to cyclists. Perhaps this sign helps explain a little.
I guess I filled their quota for the day.
I pulled up to the house Jenny shares with her fiancé, Jim, and her dog, Baylor, a few minutes later. They recently spent eight months not just remodeling, but basically rebuilding the house, and it is terrific! It’s very open and spacious, with a great view of the bay, and I love their decorating.
They have very unique furniture and art. I wish I was better at taking interior photos. The countertop in the guest bathroom is the most beautiful countertop I have ever seen!
Besides their house being wonderful, they are both interesting and fun and easy to be around. They travel a lot, scuba dive, and ride around on their Harley and in their boat. They spend a lot of time in Key West as well. Jim is a mostly retired dentist, but on Monday, for example, they are going to take the dental bus to provide care to underserved communities. They are planning a trip to Australia, Singapore, and maybe Tahiti! They have a full and exciting life, and had such a beautiful and comfortable space, that it just made sense to take a rest day there. Plus, I needed one!
We went out for a great dinner at a Greek place, and with three restaurant meals, including two large desserts for the day, I think I may have actually overdone it, even on a day I rode 60 miles. But, boy, was that baklava delicious, right unti the very end!
It was so fun to reminisce with Jenny, who now goes by her middle name, Noelle, about Red Barn Road. But we were also basically remeeting each other as adults. She even sounds southern, she’s been here for so long! But Red Barn Road was a special place to grow up, it seems. Of course she turned out great!
Friday, April 29, 2011
Dauphin Island, AL to Big Lagoon State Park, FL
43 miles
So far, a bungee cord is working well to keep my handlebar bag closed. Good thing I didn’t mail that home.
I finally saw a live Armadillo! In my campsite, tonight! It was about as big as a small cat, or a large rat, or a very tiny anklyosaurus, and it’s really noisy. It sounded like it was bustling about in the bushes, bumping into things, but rushing. Or like it was moving quickly because it was nervous. A few times, it stepped out into the open, and then it would take off in another direction.
I think I heard it snort. Hopefully it won’t try to chew through any of my bags!
Another notable thing about the Big Lagoon State Park campground, is that my neighbors just vacuumed their site. Then they sat down to watch TV outside. Though, I’ve been on the computer since I’ve been here, so who am I to say anything. These particular neighbors are actually the camp hosts, and there is a steady stream of people stopping by to purchase wood or ice from them.
They just came over and offered to loan me a lantern, since they didn’t see that I had any lights. I got out my headlamp and said I was fine, and that I was going to sleep as soon as I finished writing on my backlit iPad anyway. They seemed very disappointed. I think they went back across the street and whispered about me.
So, the rest of the day. I got up early to make sure I made it across the street to the ferry off of Dauphin Island in plenty of time. Even though it leaves at eight, I was there just after seven, with one other car. A while later, another cyclist showed up. He had only a small trunk bag and a small handlebar bag, so I assumed he was local. But it turns out, Bill had ridden here from Pheonix, with his wife following in their RV.
They both just retired and he is planning on riding the perimeter of the US, until they get to the house they are moving to, in Sonoma County, California. They have the next six months mapped out, with him riding an average of 80 miles a day. They even have reservations each day in campgrounds for the next six months! That is not the way I am traveling. (But today, I did call ahead, which I do not always do, and it’s a good thing I did. The campground was booked full at the state park, but somehow they moved someone and had a site for me when I arrived. Whew!)
Bill on the ferry with our bikes.
Me on the ferry.
We talked about cycling stuff, which I love. Dogs, road surfaces, drivers, mechanical issues, the mountains at the very beginning of the trip, eating. Bill says he actually lost twelve pounds at first, but we both agreed that we just cannot stop eating, especially, he said, things like coconut cream pie and milkshakes! I concur. I am not losing weight, myself, though.
Bills blog is at http://billsbigride.blogspot.com/. (You may have noticed I am having a technical difficulty that is preventing me from actually making these link. Sorry.) I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet, but he said his wife is also keeping her own blog. It sounds interesting to be able to look at their trip from both perspectives!
After the ferry, we rode together for a few more miles. It was such a pleasure to chat, but it’s so hard for anyone to ride as slow as me if that is not their normal pace, especially with an unloaded bike. We parted ways, and Bill was out of sight ahead of me almost immediately.
He had mentioned that some days he wonders what he’s doing and has to talk himself into getting back on the bike. Then he thinks, “I don’t have anything else to do; I might as well bike!” Which is the mantra of pretty much every touring cyclist I’ve talked to. But I realized I didn’t ask him if he ever finishes days in the RV, if the wind’s bad, or he’s just tired. Having that option must be awfully tempting, because you sort of do have something else to do. I don’t have an RV, of course, but I haven’t been opposed to using my resources wisely, as it were.
Much of the rest of the day was along the Gulf Shore beaches. The parts I could see were gorgeous. The rest were obscured by HUGE condos and hotels. There was surprisingly little traffic for such dense buildings. I guess it is not quite the season. The 27th annual Mullet Toss was being held today at the Florabama. If you’ve read Jimmy Buffet’s books, you may have heard of this place. But I didn’t feel like stopping.
I did stop for lunch at Waffle House, though. Of course I ate breakfast. They served the waffle first, like an appetizer, which was a nice way to space out a large meal, except then I wanted another waffle afterwards. But I didn’t have one. Waffle House food is not actually that spectacular, but I love it, because it’s the Waffle House. Tomorrow, though, I’m planning to have second breakfast at a cafe in Pensacola that is designated as “go out of your way to get there” by roadfood.com. I have recently been made aware of this website that recommends delicious hole-in-the-wall places, and this place is pretty much on my way. I’m looking forward to it!
I thought someone threw a rock at me from a car today. I was riding along and felt a large thunk on my thigh. I looked up to see a red Jeep pass me, full of three shirtless, noticeably very dirty looking guys. Did they really just throw a rock at me?
A few miles later, I came upon them pulled over, surrounded by three or four police cars, vans and a 4×4. I stopped to let them know what had happened to me, but even as I said it, I could see what had really happened. There was so much mud caked on that Jeep, hunks of it were flying off as they drove. It looked as if they and the car had been completely submerged in mud. The officer I spoke with gestured to a van. A chunk of mud had broken its windshield. The mud-covered boys were looking very sheepish and apologized to me, and the police said they were dealing with it. I was glad that nothing worse had happened, and I was really glad they hadn’t thrown something at me on purpose. Careless, I can accept, but mean would have made me sad.
Nice continues to be the order of the day, and I had an armadillo running around my campsite! Who could ask for anything more?