thee istsfor manity reader

Milestones

I noticed this morning that I had not only bagged mile 500 for this trek, but I also hit (and passed 1,000 miles biking this year — yes I biked through January and February, sometimes in single digit temperatures in Boston, MA) — two milestones, one day.

But that didn’t excuse my dumb oversight of not downloading map set number two, as this first map only covered Key West, FL through St. Augustine, FL—the first 503 miles of the East Coast Greenway Trail. The finish line flag marks the end of the first map.

So I was off to find a local Starbucks for the WiFi, and coffee, to download map set 2 to take me through Hardeeville, SC. Just after sunrise.

St. Augustine is a fine looking and historic town. Chock full of intriguing architectural styles: Flagler College.

City of St. Augustine and Lightner Museum Bldg.

I noticed a couple of surly looking bicyclists riding whacked-out, souped-up bicycles posting this up across the street from Starbucks…

I had to check out what they were railing against or supporting… I was dumbfounded that those rough-looking characters stapled this up at the Governor’s House park. It made my day, but what was with the odd demeanor of the two?

Old town St. Augustine retains foundations from three distinct colonial periods.

Plenty of buildings date back to the 18th century.

These coquina pilars—the Old City Gates—went up in 1808.

And the Castillo de San Marcos National Monument dates back to 1692. St. Augustine is the oldest continuous European habitation in North America dating back to 1565…

… that’s 42 and 52 years, respectively, before the Jamestown and Plymouth Rock colonists.

A local group of activists were starting to set up for a rally at 10 am…

… guess which ogre’s policies were the butt of attention …

… regrets… best served orange.

A great deal of the day’s riding looked like this through beachfront communities. This is Ponte Vedra Beach. I like me some wide shoulders. This will do nicely.

Good and bad fuel for the trek.

Ponte Vedra Beachfront at the Guana Tolomato Matanzas National Estuarine Readearch Preserve…

… no wonder they call it GTM instead. And more shadow play.

World War II intrigue at the Ponte Vedra Inn & Club… where are Thurston and Lovie?

Who knew? I then hit Jacksonville Beach soon after that…

… and an appetite that won’t quit…

… 5-miles after lunch I arrived at the evening’s destination.

Dinner takeout for later…

Day 13
Start: St. Augustine Beach, FL
End: Atlantic Beach, FL
Miles: 40.89

Tomorrow: Goodbye Florida / Hello Georgia!

What I’m Reading:

…he sentido una especie de callada simpatía por la gente que despotrica contra su propio país…

— Juan Gabriel Vásquez / Canciones para el incendio

Get to Work

My bike and I will be entering next year’s Daytona 500–watch out NASCAR this 12-15 mph speedster will put your cars to shame.

I hadn’t realized how close I was to the Daytona Speedway until I turned west and found myself facing it. It has a capacity of 101,500–it’ll hold the entire population of of Daytona Beach (89,290) and then 12,000 more peeps.

The most important thing I did on Monday (day 2 off the bike) was ice my knee multiple times and take a 6-mile test ride… the knee will hold.

It was a lousy weather day on Monday, and I’m glad I took the day off—just a bit to the west in Longwood, FL an EF3 tornado—packing winds of 135 mph cut a destructive 4-mile swath outside of Orlando. 

I felt the residual winds from the frontal system, that dropped the temperature to 50, sometimes gusting up to 37 mph on Monday.

This was how the riding day started yesterday. Even though the sun’s coming up an hour later, I still caught the tail end of the sunrise at Ross Point Park in Holly Hill.

I also caught the intensely odd underground attraction of the Holly Hill gnomes.

“Gnome notes,” anyone? I dared not open the mailbox to look for said notes as it seemed it belonged to the “Herrera’s” … not the gnomes.

A great deal of the morning looked like a pleasant ride through a pleasant beach neighborhood on John Anderson Drive through Ormond-by-the-Sea…

… where I stopped for a quiet break and a good look at the Halifax River from the boardwalk at Seabridge Riverfront Park.

Soon I was on A1A—now called the Jimmy Buffet Memorial Highway—to stay on for the rest of the day.

Yeah, you know it, that’s me. Shadowplaying.

With lots of construction and no shoulder to speak of headed north, I chose the sidewalk for dozens of miles.

Into Flagler Beach were I stayed nearly 2 hours…

… first at Pompano’s 6th Street Deli…

… for a massive onion bagel with cream cheese…

… and a mere 2 miles later I spotted the peeps serving home cooking. I’ll stop for Cuban food every time. But I was full, and opted…

… for desert, which turned out to be a flan—a mega-flan! That would serve a family of four… note: caffeine overdose.

A break in Palm Coast, and a hidden animaloid… can you spot it?

Beyond the bike and picnic table: a Great Egret.

Marineland was just up the road. They’ve stopped the shows and do full-time conservation now that’s it’s owned by the Georgia Aquarium.

Half a dozen staff were readying the truck  transporting sharks… don’t know where or why, they wouldn’t say.

The incredibly wide Crescent Beach at Matanzas Inlet.

Matanzas is Spanish for massacres. So it’s aptly named by the Spanish as they wiped out a contingent of potential French colonists here in the 16th century. 

Finally, I hit the city limits.

Tonight’s end point.

But before I settled-in… I was only one mile away from the 500th mile of this trek. I felt I had to bag it today.

And then some! So it was. Nondescript, yes, but it’ll do… my gps says so. Shadow=happy!

I also had to bag dinner. A great conveyance method… never had a rear rack carried a more precious item.

It’s the size of two mini panniers, or one of my gravel panniers. And it was all good.

Day 12
Start: Daytona Beach, FL
End: St. Augustine Beach, FL
Miles: 54.51

(Which includes the gratuitous miles to bag mile 500, which I’ll redo tomorrow morning).

Now it’s time to get to work!

What I’m Reading:

There is less and less difference
between your shadow

and the shadow inside you…

— James Richardson / “Any Evening”

Not Done 

A second day without riding, but I’m not done. Yesterday, I was done recuperating and today I’m back on the road to St. Augustine — and mile marker 500 on the trail!

It was cool when I left Mims on Saturday: 50 degrees, but it felt cooler with a light wind. It warmed up quickly throughout the day, and the high was in the mid-70’s. Most of the morning on the East Coast Regional Rail Trail, nearly 20-miles, looked much like this (an old converted railroad bed):

The trail is well-marked with occasional trailheads with porta potties and benches.

Somewhere near Creighton, FL the rail trail petered out on to more developed semi-rural areas that featured a farm with beggar goats and a sand hill crane:

I took a lengthy break at Rotary Park in Edgewater, FL. By this time my knee was becoming bothersome, as was a developing saddle sore. These are the common afflictions of long-distance bike touring.

Approaching New Smyrna Beach I came across an early colonial canal inspired by the Egyptian canal system built by 1,400 Minorcans, Corsicans, and Greeks in the late 1760’s.

But my knee and butt were complaining and I took another long lunch break in New Smyrna Beach…

… where this sign caught my eye…

… but it really wasn’t intended for bicyclists, it beckoned motorcyclists. This weekend was the end of bike week in Daytona Beach. The culmination of a 10-day celebration of all things motorcycles, and 500,000 motorcyclists make the town their own. The constant roar of waves of bikers (the other kind).

I was lucky to get there early, take an hour off the bike for lunch, and get out before the hordes descended for a 2pm concert at General Public House.

Which makes the best wings and fried green tomatoes I’ve ever had:

I’d be lying if I told you the rest of the ride was pleasant. It wasn’t. My right knee (left of frame) was blowing up to the size of a volleyball and my ass was on fire from a fully formed saddle sore.

The 14 miles until I saw this sign—mostly on US 1 with speeding maniacs and hordes of motorcyclists roaring by me—seemed interminable.

Got inside, away from the constant din of revving motorcycle engines, and got to work…

… trying get my knee back to human size.

Day 10
Start: Mims, FL
End: Daytona Beach, FL
Miles: 49.7

Tomorrow off to St. Augustine, FL!

What I’m Reading:

Doom, such a fickle bitch.

— Sarah Freligh / “In this Poem, We Will Not Glorify Sunrise”

a day (or two) off

After 455 miles of doing this…

… and this …

… sometimes one’s right knee (your left of frame) may end up looking like this…

… and that requires a day (or two) off of the bike and a lot of this:

All is well. Nothing that a little rest and a lot of icing down won’t take care of. 

More details to follow in tomorrow’s (Tuesday’s post)—this ride is on 2-day rest/hold and will be back on the road on Tuesday—which if you tune-in, you’ll read about on Wednesday.

Only 80 (or so) miles and I’ll say goodbye to Florida and ride in to Georgia. See you then.

Key West, FL to Daytona Beach, FL: 455 miles

Details about the ride from Mims, FL to Daytona Beach, FL coming tomorrow.

What I’m Reading:

A man who refused to own slaves but was not opposed to others owning slaves was still a slaver, to my thinking.

— Percival Everett / James

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”