A Day of Goodbyes

Breakfast went on all morning, reminiscing about the trip and talking about future plans. The afternoon was taken packing bikes into boxes for shipping. Then out to dinner for pizza and beer, and then more beer and talking at the Scarlett O'hara. It really is odd to be chatting with friends who I've known so intensely for 9 weeks and will likely never see again. These are very special people: to enjoy this trip was to revel in both the good and the bad.

Open roads and dark stary nights, dry cactus deserts and wet mossy bayous. Hot pants in the trailer park. Chimay and Chelado. Jazz, Blues, Country AND Western. Each day brought some new challenge; personal, mechanical or interpersonal, but that is what makes a complete and satisfying experience. Memories are cemented by intense experiences and this trip leaves memories that will last lifetime.

Experience more, live a little.

And so with wheels dipped on either side
I close this blog (until another ride).

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Is this the end?

Today we rode across our last stretch of Florida and into the quaint seaside town of St Augustine. As we rode up to the beach we were greeted by a small but raucous group of friends and family. It was nice to have some folks to celebrate with and create a party atmosphere. There were homemade cookies, champagne and a gajilion photos. There were photos of us arriving, photos of us on the beach and photos of us in strange positions (I kid you not!). Is this the end?

It feels strange to be "finished". It doesn't so much feel like the trip was an event with a start and finish, so much as a momentary change of lifestyle. It was the journey itself that was the point of the trip, not distance or destination - the daily cycle of making and breaking camp and the slow passage through the landscape. At the pace of cycling you can see the details: a caterpillar on the road, an old man smoking a cigarette on his porch, the movement of clouds. These are the things I will miss.

Riders, friends and family went out for dinner at the A1A Ale Works. There were some short speeches to give the event an air of significance. Afterwards we found a place for desert and coffee and lingered in the courtyard exchanging memories from the trip. Then upstairs where a band was playing we drank beers at a long table and tried to avoid going thinking about tomorrow.

Last blog post tomorrow.

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Confederacy

Its after dinner and we're at the Cheyenne Saloon. "Willie & Po' Boys" are in the corner hammering on power chords, guitars emblazoned with the confederate flag. Earlier at a seafood restaurant near the campground we were discussing plans for arriving in St Augustine tomorrow and celebrating the finish.

Today was a good day. We started with a beautiful 16 mile bike trail from Gainesville to Hawthorne. The trail wound its way through forest and meadow and across beautiful bayous. In Hawthorne we stopped for a while at Dianne's Barbecue for lunch. Later at the gas station at Putnam Hall we met another touring cyclist who last year did approximately the same route as us but in the other direction. He had set off on a whim on his Walmart bike with no gear and almost no money - crazy - but he made it. When he started he was 350lbs (158kgs) and he was 280 when he finished. It just shows what's possible when you have the will.

On our way into Palatka we decided to stop for a beer. The Hi Level, a tiki style outfit with a respectable number of pickups and Harley's in the parking lot seemed like a good place. The first round for the 3 of us came to $4:50 - total! We started talking to the folks in the bar: the 2nd round was shouted by the bartender, the third by the guy 2nd from the left and we can't remember who shouted the 4th, but we had to chug it and split since we still had 6 miles to the campground and the sun was already sinking large and red behind the trees.

So tomorrow we finish. 40 odd miles will take us to the Atlantic Ocean and complete the coast to coast. We'll have a welcoming party of friends and family of some of the riders then take our bikes across the sand to the water, and we'll be done.

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Suwannee and Ichetucknee

The Suwannee River

The past two nights we've stayed in beautiful state park campgrounds. Last night's camping was so good I didn't have a cell signal for posting to the blog.

When we visited the Suwannee River it was shrouded in fog so dense it was hard to see the other side. The forest was quite open, affording stunning views through the forest; misty, mysterious and primordal. At Ichetucknee we didn't have fog but the forest was still beautiful and mysterious. Tonight we are staying at a motel in Gainesville. We went out for Thai food so hot I sweated more than at any other point on the trip.

Camping at Ichetucknee

Only two days left to ride. Tomorrow 65 miles and camping at East Palatka then Saturday we ride about 40 miles into St Augustine, our destination on the Atlantic coast.

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Lingering

After dinner in the State Park next to the Suwannee River

Today we spent about equal time in restaurants and on the road. Second-breakfast lingered on to early lunch at "The Rare Door" in Montecello (pron. with the c as an s [sic]) which served food and atmosphere that was pleasantly common. Then an afternoon trip to a Mexican restaurant turned into a couple of beers and extended good conversation. It is hard to expend the effort to power ourselves down the road knowing that every peddle stroke pushes us closer to our destination.

Today was day 61 of the trip and a bit under 3000 miles completed. With only 4 days to go all thoughts are turned to finishing. Some in the group are feeling ready to finish and others not. I am in both camps. Each person has had a different experience, and each person will feel differently riding into St Augustine.

For now it seems easier to stop in at the cafe and imagine that ordering another cup of coffee with somehow prolong the inevitable.

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Entertainment in Wacissa

In the last minutes of last night's game the Indianapolis Colts overcame the New England Patriots, and the local paparazzi caught leader Dave undergoing his punishment of wearing Kami's unlucky red knickers.

Early in the day there was a beautiful bike path for about 10 miles out of Tallahassee. Just not having to worry about traffic was a treat. At the end of the bike path in Woodville we found a great family fish restaurant and had a long relaxed lunch.

We stopped again for ice cream at the store (and only business) in Wacissa. While sitting outside the store on the porch we noticed a guy going repeatedly up and down the highway in a very loud pickup. At the end of each pass he would stop and wait a while before continuing. We became increasing alarmed when he started smoking up his tires in front of the store, turning on very loud music for 30 seconds then off again and pulling in to the parking area at high speed. Inquiring in the store we were told "Oh don't worry, that's crazy Casey. He's been working on his truck". We were extra careful on the road out of town, especially considering the store had managed to misspell "Mens" on the toilets. To understand how this is possible you have to pronounce the word in the southern way with two syllables (me-anns). They had written in black Sharpie on the toilet door "lads and meens"

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Rivalries

This half of the trip has been so different from the first. Instead of battling extreme conditions, steep mountains and vicious head winds, we now spend our days gliding through green fields, dark trees hung heavy with beards of Spanish Moss, cotton and hay fields, white houses behind white picket fences, gently rolling countryside. At least when there isn't too much traffic, these days have a feeling of tranquility.

Tonight is our 2nd last motel night, in Midway, Florida. We went across the highway for dinner at the Flying-J Truck Stop all-you-can-eat buffet, which was quite serviceable. It was Jim's (http://jimsbikeblog.wordpress.com) birthday so we got a slice of cake with candles on it. He now joins the 3 other riders who are 67. That makes 30% of our crew 67.

After dinner we watched (American)football on TV. With one fan of the Indianapolis Colts and one of the New England Patriots, the rivalry has been heating up all week for tonight's game. At time of writing the Patriots are up by 16. One is happy, the other not.

Mullets and Thai

Today's ride was 60 miles of nice riding down highway 90 to Marianne, Florida. A good shoulder and good weather made for an easy and fast day. Being on cooking duty with John D I got into camp early, and we went shopping at the local Winn Dixie.

For dinner we cooked a shrimp curry which I must say was very good. After dinner there was music playing in the RV park so we went over to investigate. It turned out that it was customer appreciation night, and the residents were out in force. The entertainer for the night was sporting a genuine 80s mullet and could sing all manner of Country songs while line dancing at the same time. That's quite a skill. It was a real RV park hoe-down The picture shows the scene during the country classic "achy breaky heart".

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The Last State

Yesterday we left the state park at Gulf Shores and rode east towards the Florida state line, however the coast was obscured by an endless row of massive condos between the road and the beach. Luckily there was a pleasant view to other side, of a quiet bayou lined with beach houses and boat docks.

After about 12 miles we got to the border and crossed into Florida. It was a sad moment. It has taken us only 2 days to cross Mississippi and we spent 3 days in Alabama (including being delayed by the storm), and now we are in Florida, the last state on the journey.

Parts of the route were fine, but one stretch in particular was treacherous. It seemed cyclists had suddenly become invisible to drivers. Cars (or pickups to be precise) passed gratuitously close, not even making the slightist deviation to account for our presence. In a couple of places there were holes in the road the size of a coffin. It was the first time on trip I felt unsafe on the road.

We stayed in the KOA campground south-east of Milton next to the 10 Freeway. It was not close to any grocery stores so we ate out. Approaching the Hurricane Bar and Grill you'd swear it was just an abandoned old gas station but for anyone who ventures inside it is a lively local night spot. The friendly hostess served us at plain tables with plastic table cloths while a singer/guitarist did his best to recreate some old country standards. $2.25 Amberbock pints and midnight closing were a rough combination for us, though.

Today was a beautiful day to ride: warm and sunny, blue skies, a nice smooth road with good shoulder, and the sun casting shadows through the trees lining the sides of the road. Also, it is almost entirely flat here, the most significant hills being tall bridges. With a shorter distance to ride we were able to check out the small towns, linger over lunch and still arrive in camp in reasonable time. A relaxing day.

The camp at DeFuniak Springs is on the grassy banks of a serene bass fishing lake. We used skewers to cook sausages and roast marshmallows over a campfire. This is the first night on the trip we've had a campfire so it was very nice. Tomorrow I'm on cooking duty again so I'll be riding faster to get into camp early.

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The Gulf of Mexico

It was quite windy in the morning and the streets were edged with puddles, but other than that it was clear that Hurricane Ike was gone. The first part of our ride took us through downtown Mobile which had nothing to recommend it other than a very nice stretch of Springhill Ave which was lined with huge oaks and gentile mansions. In order to cross the north end of Mobile Bay we had to ride through the industrial port district then cross a very high bridge and a long causeway.

Once on the other side, we rode due south down the eastern edge of Mobile Bay. The road was set back from the shore, but it was a beautifully pleasant ride through grand old houses and some farmland. Occasionally we would get glimpses of Mobile Bay through the trees, too wide to see the other side. The brown water perhaps the only hint of the now completely dissipated storm. The road was narrow but not difficult to ride and we had some tail wind (a rarity). When crossing bridges we could see boat houses and jetties on the edges of the bayous; an indicator of the lifestyles played out in the houses hidden in the trees beyond.

We arrived at Gulf Shores on the Gulf of Mexico a little before 3pm, the water gleaming in the sun, the white sand beach stretching out for miles in either direction. Having started at the Pacific, this is our second brush with the oceans. We took our bikes down to the water to pose for pictures then went up to the Pink Pony, a local institution, for liquid refreshments. Camping tonight is in the very nice Gulf State Park.

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Mobility

So its official: there is absolutely nothing to do in Mobile, Alabama. Which is OK because we couldn't walk or bike anywhere anyway. In the area we're staying in there are no shoulders, sidewalks or pedestrian crossings. We discovered the safest way to get across the road is to jay walk in the MIDDLE of the block. I wonder if they teach that to kids in school here.

By morning the hurricane had been reduced to a tropical storm and then was reduced to a tropical depression, but we didn't ride today because of the winds. And so instead we bring you a rider profile.

Rider Profile

Dave is our fearless leader. Its amazing how much work it takes to keep 12 people believing that they are actually having fun riding 7 hours a day through baking deserts and torrential rain. Adventure Cycling Association gives us a published route map, the start and end dates, and a budget. It's Dave's job to get the group to the end on the right day, on budget - and feeling good about it.

Dave was an accountant in the skiing field. At 51, he's retired and now rides his bike around - a lot - like we were in the campground in Poplarville and Dave mentioned he had stayed at the place 18 months ago, but then added "please don't expect me to remember everything about it, I've ridden 12,500 miles since then."

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Holed Up in Mobile

[Corrections from yesterday: 1) the town I called Vanderville should have been Vancleave 2) the last pitcher should have stayed on the table where it would have done less damage]


 


We finally got some storm action; not the hurricane forecast but a tropical storm. Instead of flooding in the campground, we awoke to a beautifully dry and warm day, calm, with overcast skies. Many options were discussed at the morning map meeting, but the one which gave us the best protection from the storm and the most onward options was the city of Mobile, Alabama (pron. Moe-BEE-ill). So we packed up paying extra attention to water resistance and set off into the path of the developing storm.

 

The first half of the ride was warm and dry. We passed through the Pascagoula River Wildlife Management Area with classic southern bayou/swamp views and ancient trees hung heavy with moss. There were fairly strong head winds and the roads were narrow with no shoulder. As usual, most drivers were very courteous, and others darn-right scary. Then the rain started. It was light at first and built steadily until it was raining heavily.

 

So on we rode battling the wind and being stung in the face by wind driven rain. With no room on the edge of the road we tracked straight down the white line, driving hard through wind and water. Getting closer into the city the street grew to two lanes of traffic each way, then three, then three with a 2 lane service road on each side of the main road. 10 lanes of traffic in wind and pouring rain can be a bit much even for the adventurous, so while the 50 mile ride was fun, arriving at a well appointed Days Inn also had its appeal.

 

Tonight there is not much wind but steady heavy rain. If it is particularly wet and windy tomorrow, we'll take a layover day and stay in the hotel. If the storm subsides, we'll move on towards south and east.

We saw lots of cotton in New Mexico, but haven't in the southern states, with the exception of today.

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Battenning Down the Hatches

All in a Day's Work: Derrik dropped his bike and scored a wicked imprint from his chain ring during a four dog attack today.

80 miles of hilly riding and into camp by 4pm. We set up our tents to dry them off from the heavy dew of last night and immediately started talking about the weather. Our camp for tonight is an RV park about 7 miles south of Vanderville, pretty much at sea level. Associated with the RV park is a locally famed restaurant and Blues club called The Shed where, we're told, BB King once played. This is where we retired for dinner.

It is a very odd feeling to be speculating about impending hurricanes while chugging beers at The Shed in balmy bliss; but Hurricane Ida is coming, and its serious. Depending on the forecast(er), there will either be 2" of rain or we will all be wiped from the face of the earth. Take your pick. But lounging around after closing, with a pitcher still to go, the end of the world seemed a very abstract concept.

Tomorrow we have a reservation at a motel in Bayou Le Batre (where Forrest and Bubba had their shrimping operation) which is a few miles west of Mobile Bay. The eye of the hurricane is forecast to be in Mobile Bay at 10pm tomorrow evening. So there are a number scenarios at this point: if there is an evacuation order for this area we might be cycling at top speed back the way we have come, or we will be staying here holed up in the RV park rec center waiting it out, or we will be riding east to visit the Bubba Gump Shrimp Company. Sleep now, worry tomorrow.

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Tired

Today took us through more scenic wooded farmland with lots of evidence of work but very little of income. There were some stretches that were less interesting, for example a long stretch of pine plantation and some stretches of narrow busy shoulderless road that took a lot of concentration.


But in the nice parts the last of the fall colors were lingering in the trees, and brown fallen leaves filled the ditches to each side of the road. There has been no standing water the last couple of days, I think because we have been at much higher altitudes, cruising up and down between about 200 and 250 feet above sea level.



Today's excitement came in the form of tire trouble. When I went to start riding this morning, my tire was soft. I have "slime" tubes which will self seal small holes so I pumped the tire back up and went on my way. Mid-morning I felt bumps in the road. "These are very evenly spaced bumps" I thought to myself, "spaced exactly one wheel rotation apart in fact!" So I pulled over and found a large blister had formed on my rear tire. I immediately let out some air thinking I may have over-inflated the tire when I pumped it up in the morning. Then because I don't carry a spare tire, started to think of ways out of this mess.


Well, I guess cell phones and good friends never go out of style. I called Cathy on her cell knowing that she was riding with Derrik who has a spare that would fit my wheel. They were about 5 miles ahead, so turned around and started riding back towards us. Having let a little air out, I was able to keep riding on the blistered tire and we met them in the next town (Franklinton). Derrik gave me his spare, so crisis averted. Whew! Thanks Derrik! I didn't change the tire then, however, opting to finish the day on the blistered tire and make the change in the controlled environment of the camp site.


Luckily the tire did hold up all day, but riding on it at lower pressure was very hard work. It was a long day too, being about 75 miles, so we made it into camp just before dark. Tent up, shower, dinner at a nearby Chinese Buffet, then changing the tire in the evening. These are full days.


We'll be up at 5:30am tomorrow, breakfast and pack lunch making at 6am then 80 miles of scenic wooded farmland with lots of evidence of work but very little of income.




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Inspiration

Yet another great day of riding; tree lined roads through gentle rolling hills under clear blue skies. Unfortunately Cathy's new rear wheel started to buckle (it was purchased not long ago in Beaumont to replace one which was starting to crack). What would we do without cell phones and good friends? From the side of the road she was able to call a friend in Braton Rouge who drove up and rescued her, then took her back to Braton Rouge to find a new new wheel. Cathy couldn't have been more grateful.


Today traffic was the main concern because the road was very narrow with little or no shoulder and because it was windy and rolling there were constantly blind corners and crests. Many of the drivers waited behind us until they could safely pass; many others blew on through with scant concern for their lives or ours.


So it was some relief to arrive at Inspiration Park just west of Kentwood, Louisiana (hometown of Britney Spears). Inspiration is a non-denominational Christian camp in a park-like setting. Earlier I had thought no one else was here but now I hear faint African drumming... hmmm. The group has access to three fairly nice bunk rooms, but Dolores and I were the only ones who pitched our tents.


The two of us were also on cook duty so we raced the 4 miles into town for the supplies and supervised the making of rice, canned chili (with grated cheese and sour cream as toppings) and a Waldorf salad. After dinner the group had the daily map meeting inside because it was so cold and the grass was already soaked in dew. So I write tonight from the comfort of my cozy tent, with a puerile urge to take my chalk and add "WO" to the door of the men's bunkhouse.

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