thee istsfor manity reader

So…

This never gets old.

No matter how many times you see it, from where, or when.

This was the sunrise over Melbourne Beach at 6:43 am yesterday.

And that’s me, your shadowy host, happily riding into nearly nonexistent winds—a mere 6mph most of the day. Much easier pedaling. No more talk of wind.

That’s the Eau Gallie Bridge over the intracoastal—the last intracoastal crossing until I get to Ormond Beach, at least 2 days without criss-crossing the Indian River Lagoon. It seems like I’d crossed the intracoastal twice a day since leaving Miami.

This may have been this week’s most important stop: I needed Chamois Butt’r (sometimes known as Asmaster or Ass Magic) anti-chafing cream—the savior of all long distance cyclists… or at least savior of their undercarriages. An uncontrolled hot spot, turns into a saddle sore, then turns into serious long-term trouble. Ain’t gonna’ happen.

A very peaceful ride most of the morning—miles upon miles on Rockledge Drive, an old Florida scenic road along the Indian River Lagoon (the intracoastal).

So peaceful, solitary, and slow, that action shots are possible: Look, Ma’, no hands!

This area in Rockledge, FL was cormorant central…

While here, near Cocoa, I spotted an Atlantic Bottle Nose Dolphin:

And apropos of nothing… a gratuitous picture of lunch: bbq brisket sandwich and cornbread casserole.

See that white speck in the distance left of frame?

It’s the largest single story building in the world.

NASA’s VAB (vehicle assembly building): it covers 8 acres and it’s where the Saturn rockets and space shuttles were assembled. That’s about 20 miles away across the intracoastal in Cape Canaveral.

And finally, really peaceful, dedicated trail riding on the 52-mile long East Central Florida Rail Trail.

Although I was only on it today for 3-4 miles. But this is so appreciated. Only bicyclists and walkers on this trail.

I didn’t have far to go to the day’s endpoint: The Wayward Traveler’s Inn in Mims, FL.

I’m in the Mardi Gras Room.

Day 9
Start: Melbourne Beach, FL
End: Mims, FL
Miles: 50.2

The bike is by the Inn’s fireplace.

What I’m Reading:

I will end all that robs me of my feeling as a stranger.
A stranger I will remain,
and strangers are content
with the magic of their sorrow.

— Salim Barakat / “A Spiritual Admonition”

It didn’t have to be but it was: a too long day.

It’s not breaking any records but the tough conditions, discomfort, and mileage took it out of me—and as the day wore on I slowed considerably each passing hour. 

Why?

Wind.

Fakakte Wind!

Often gusting up to 30 mph. Always in my face blowing me back, or cross checking me from the west and blowing sideways to my right.

The day also included a four car pile-up in Fort Pierce, at an intersection I’d just pedaled thru less than a minute earlier (see below).

There were road closures—detours adding mileage to the ride. Honking bozos yelling “get on the sidewalk!” Today had it all. Most of it challenging to say the least. So the less said the better.

69 of today’s 70.23 miles were into the sustained wind. Only when I crossed the intracoastal heading east at Fort Pierce was it at my back and assisting me. 

Think of a 7-hour high resistance spin class in a wind tunnel…

I’m at a loss for words. I’m thoroughly enervated. Punch drunk. Flabbergasted. So this becomes an impromptu…

in this (my) neighborhood pt. 84

(I beg your forbearance. I need decompression and rest. Back at it tomorrow. Winds? Who knows.)

Day 8
Start: Jensen Beach, FL
End: Melbourne Beach, FL
Miles: 70.23

What I’m Reading:

Fear at base. Fear of not being able to justify myself, or of not being productive every moment of the day; an inferiority complex that manifests itself in the sense that I must always be justifying my existence by thinking. Feel like there is something else I should be working on.

— Sheila Heti / Alphabetical Diaries

Wind Blown

Oh those blasted north winds! Well, mostly out of the north but constantly shifting often out of the East Northeast too, but never at my back—nary a tailwind. 

I knew it would be memorable when first this morning, going over the intracostal out to Fort Lauderdale Beach, this small bridge felt like riding up Everest. I was buffeted by 20 mph headwinds—in fact I slowed down so much a runner caught up to me at the apex of the bridge before I was able to coast downhill. Oy!

But the way I see it, winds that severe now will make me stronger for the elevation throughout the northeast on the trail. No mountains, but some stiff hills in Maine. Anyway, the wind is the controlling motif today—note the palm fronds blown sideways to the west. But what I really enjoyed was that at 7:15 am, there wasn’t a single Spring Breaker in sight in FtL Beach. Yay!

I’ve noticed a number of beach communities reminding people that this is turtle nesting season, but with this much beach development it’s a wonder that all still goes well.

Deerfield Beach was a nice rest stop this morning, but here is where I started to see rip current advisories and “dangerous conditions” flags.

Look at the wind… 26 mph gusts. I checked my weather app everytime the wind blew me sideways to gauge the gusts.

Did I mention the wind?

Yay! Fourth county in four days… welcome to Palm Beach County at Delray Beach.

Did I mention the wind? 29 mile per hour gusts in Delray Beach. I asked a number of folks today if they could do something about turning off the wind machines. They were all nonplussed. (Look at the flag on the left & the palm fronds)

Look, that’s me, your host stopped for an early lunch after 29 miles in north Delray Beach.

So this lifeguard shack is flying the dangerous rip current flag, but you can’t see the solid red and the solid purple flags that indicate high hazard conditions and dangerous marine life, respectively. Huh? Man o’ war? Great white?

Where’s the flag for Orange Ogre with a bad combover?

At Ocean Ridge I took a Red Bull break in this convenience store and a 30 mph gust toppled my bike.

This was the end result. My bespoke handlebar grippy tape lacerated. Oh the humanity!

So I stopped at a Publix a mile north, in Manalaplan, and bought gorilla tape, a protein shake and got to work:

Not pretty, but it’ll hold. All’s well in handlebar land, let’s move on…

… but this is seriously problematic…

And the weather starts to look nasty as I get nearer to a nasty place, and it starts to spit rain in West Palm Beach…

…  and believe it or not, I’m routed right by the Orange Ogre’s house. I thought something was up when I saw dozens of police cars (marked and unmarked) and a football field-sized compound filled with vehicles, satellite links, and cameras. I hightailed it over this bridge heading west off the beach, the only time the wind was at my back and it virtually rocketed me over the intracoastal. Couldn’t come fast enough. (I naturally wouldn’t waste memory space on my phone with pictures of that level of crap.)

Instead you get semiotics… lots of signs, shadows, gratuitous bike pics, and you figure out the signifiers. The East Coast Greenway and United States Bike Route 1 (USBR 1) are virtually the same route from Florida to Maine (except the gaps).

Why would anyone?

The Civil Society Brewing Company…

Tacos El Viejon food truck… oh, what excellent take out for tonight’s dinner! (Chicken burrito with salsa verde)

See the chicken burrito packed up on my rear rack? (My goodness was it good!) This is my Air BnB endpoint for the day. The casita in the back.

This tiny house set off on its own…

Here’s a panoramic shot of the inside (you can’t see the bathroom)… and there’s always room at the inn for the bike. Another good day, even as windblown as it was, and even though I had to see the Orange Ogre’s abode.

Day 6
Start: Fort Lauderdale
End: West Palm Beach
Miles: 47.96

What I’m Reading:

the world burn is total
last sky will empty itself of airplanes and war jets to make room for our spirits

— Fargo Nissim Tbakhi / “Last Sky World Burn”

Shakedown in Rearview

That’s the turn on my Wahoo bike gps that lead me out of the Florida Keys. A cool 66 degree morning that looked something like this from the top of the Lake Surprise bridge:

A morning of bewildering choices… huh?…

… and surprising views:

I immediately hit construction—at one point I was shoehorned in to a six-inch shoulder. Yikes! Luckily a massive dump truck carrying fill (out of frame left) slowed traffic down to my speed of 12-15 mph.

Later all northbound traffic was diverted to one lane, and I got free reign of two lanes undergoing construction:

Headwinds again made for a tougher ride, and the scenery looked much like this for 15 miles:

I forgot to mark the 100-mile point, but I sorta’ like the symmetry of mile 111.

Great for bird watching: snowy egrets, great blue herons, ibis, and what looked like ospreys to me from afar—but most birds wanted nothing to do with a bicyclist-errant fending off gusts on a desolate highway.

See, that’s me, your host staying clear of the rumble strip:

This was a sight for a sore ass needing a break:

Good-bye keys… I entered the county of thee old hometown. I can already taste the Cuban home cooking. But first, a lot more of this:

And here’s the craziest street crossing yet—an insanely busy US 1 at Florida City:

On the South Dade Trail for another 20-miles of traffic-free riding:

A stop at my cool uncle’s and cooler aunt’s place for Cuban coffee and brief ass-pain relief… groovy, man!

… that man makes a mean latte, Cuban style; and she is a gifted artisan of all things yarn and jewels…

… and now I spy my mother’s (tall-building festooned) neighborhood in the distance…

only 3 miles to go… and a new dayglo green bike lane went in this week…

… and I’m finally at my mother’s place on Biscayne Bay—with the Key Biscayne bridge in the distance that stood in for the 7-mile bridge, et al., on my training rides:

And! I’m done with the Keys, and the ass-tumescence.

In fact, I was so tired I almost inadvertently used this as underarm deodorant:

Oy! Let’s just call it a good first 3 days!

Day 3
Start: Key Largo, FL
End: Miami, FL
Miles: 56.34

Tomorrow (today) is an ass-rest and gear reevaluation day. (Yes, my ass status is an intentional leitmotif here… until it is no more—then you will no longer be saddled [heh!] with it again).

What I’m Reading:

Even when I write about events in my own life . . . it’s not really me. 

— Susan Sontag / “The Art of Fiction No. 143” / The Paris Review

… interesting…

… to say the least. There were so many buses parked across the street yesterday, and I was so bone tired, that I failed to notice the GULF OF MEXICO right across the street from the hotel (which you may see a smidgen of at the extreme left of the panoramic shot).

Coolish and very windy all day—strong headwinds and crosswinds—gusting up to 20 miles per hour and steady at 14-16 mph all day. Oy! But it was thrilling to be off of US 1 for the first couple of miles in these mangrove thickets…

… but then it was straight into the wind tunnels, completely exposed to the full force of the headwind with tractor trailers, huge SUV’s pulling boats and most people speeding like demented demons…

… which is why I appreciate these cool little parallel bridges (old highway US 1) as brief, safer, havens for bikers…

… walkers and fisher folk…

… so wide open and traffic free…

… that action pics are de rigueur (if you’re not blown off the bridge by the 20-mile gusts)…

… one may even stop for a right arm with bike still life selfie (I did, for what it’s worth)…

… that’s me, your host with a sore ass!

Now this traffic and debris free (wide) shoulder is more to my liking…

… and so are these benches that the state of Florida sprinkles about the trail near state parks (this is near Long Key State Park)…

… see, I was here.

I was blown sideways, perilously close to the guardrail and the choppy, salty, Atlantic on this bridge into Islamorada…

… so I rewarded myself with some home cooking: a croqueta de jamón and a cortadito (look it up) at Ohio Key… see them half consumed on my bike seat?

On Tea Table Key there are memorial plaques to Ponce de Leon, the Cuban Rafters of the 1980’s and 1990’s, and to the lost Spanish fleet of 1733 that disappeared in a hurricane bearing plundered Incan gold and silver.

This, apropos of the midway point between Key West and Miami, is an excellent place to stop for lunch or breakfast…

… baked goods and a chocolate almond milk, peanut butter and banana smoothie for me (now my thing) to power into the afternoon…

… colorful anyway, and very good eats!

Just down the road, in Islandmorada, stands a monument to the civilian and veteran victims of the (still) record strongest hurricane on Labor Day, 1935.

Over 300 people lost their lives and the “Hurricane Monument” memorializes the tragedy.

North of Islamorada one has the choice of the four foot wide bike lane “shoulder” or the 8-foot wide sidewalk… I choose the one not so roar of traffic-addled and debris-strewn…

… but even here some iguanas aren’t so lucky…

… it wasn’t me, I just documented it…

… and finally, temperature controlled ass-recovery in effect again …

… this place has its own beachlet on the GULF OF MEXICO side… and I’m eating every bit of this dinner after burning 2,074 calories during today’s ride…

… which looked like this on the map…

… inconsequential elevation changes, but tough riding due to the high headwinds and crosswinds out of the northwest.

Day 2
Start: Marathon, FL
End: Key Largo, FL
Miles: 49.2 miles

My old hometown and good Cuban cooking await tomorrow (today) in Miami.

What I’m Reading:

Don’t forget that although you aren’t telling a story, you must still do what stories do, which is lead the reader through an experience. Don’t forget that the book will exist in the future. Don’t forget to write, even if it’s going nowhere. Don’t forget to write, even though it will never be published. 

— Sheila Heti / Alphabetical Diaries