A Quick Reflection

I just scanned over last night's post, and thought I'd add a quick thought or two, it was so to the point I forgot to mention a few things.

First off, to my loved ones, I miss you. I've travelled before, and have always wished you could see the things I see, smell the air and taste the food of other lands, but more so this time than ever before. I'm not sure if it's the knowledge that I'll be gone for awhile yet, or the physicality of what we're doing, but I truly miss you all. I wish you could see through my eyes.

Secondly, I'm so gratefull that I can be on this adventure. We've met some incredible people already-fellow travellers and others just curious, we've seen the ocean from a tiny speck of an Island to the coastal town we've rested in tonight, and I get to do it all while riding my bike. It's absolutely amazing, and we haven't even hit a week yet.

If there's anything that you really, really want to do, something that would make you happy, not for any reason or person other than yourself, find a way to get it done and do it. It'll make you a little more complete, and everyone who loves you will be just a little happier themselves.

WABASSO!!!!

For some reason that just seems like it's suppossed to be in all caps. It's also the name of the city we're staying in tonight. A smaller town that exists just North of of Hutchinson Island, a beautiful spot with homes for sale " Under Four Million", perched along the Atlantic coast and full of beautiful people and expensive cars. The last two days have shown a true contradiction in lifestyle, as we roll through these surf paradises full of millionaires into the kind of town we're staying in now-smaller places full of the people that work in the homes, stores and kitchens of the people that live by the water. We had a some contact with the "Island" folk today, once when I asked an older lady if there was a place we could find coffee and internet use nearby and she laughed-"oh, we don't do Starbucks on the Island....", and again later in the afternoon, when we stopped in someone's outer yard (it was a gated community), and were promptly kicked out by some poor kid whose boss, another older lady, walked all the way up to tell him to tell us to move on. Kid's gotta find a better job.

As for the riding, it truly was good today, despite some obstacles I'll go into later. The heat is overbearing, and the humidity is turning us into gooey slabs of sweat, but the riding is good. I felt like we all rode well together today, something I'd been hoping and praying for, and also feel like we've broken through on a personal level. We're basically four guys that got together to do this without really knowing each other too much, or not at all, and now we're living together, or rather, living next to each other, for the next month and a half. It really could go any direction, and now that we've had a few days to hash stuff out, I'm happy with the mix. I also decided to come up with names for our bikes.

 

George is riding Toby.

 

I'm with Midnight.

 

Jeff is on White Lightning.

 

And Kevin's steed is now called Long Horn.

 

So, the other details?

I've been lucky enough to be the recipient of our first animal attack, as I completely ignored the warnings of one of our hosts and wandered out to the Ocean at night and had my legs completely devoured by sand fleas, which not only itches horribly all the time but also makes my transformation to complete vagrant almost completely authentic when combined with my lack of shaving and now burned-in tanlines. Anyone seeking a lesson in humility should spend a lot of time out in the sun and cover themselves with flea bites, and then try to act like a normal, civilized human around other, cleaner folk. It ain't easy.

Just to make my leper-status complete, a portion of my arm actually fried today, scaring the piss out of me at first. Tiny little bubbles, like fried pork rinds, formed near my elbow on my right arm, which has been taking the brunt of the early morning sun. Kevin said it looked like sun poisoning, which made it even worse. I'd always considered the sun my friend, and couldn't believe it'd do something like this to me. But it did, and later on all the bubbles popped, giving me a sheath of new skin to destroy tommorrow. By the time this is all over, I'm going to be a mass of skin disease and boils. And we haven't hit the desert yet.

In other, more important news, several developments have come up.

Dirk, our fifth rider, cancelled on us, also leaving us without a place to stay on Saturday.

George hit a wall that he's gotta figure out how to scale. The heat and mileage has taken it's first toll, and he completely lost steam today, disappearing behind us several times as we would wait for him to catch up. Finally, he didn't, and we had to call for a ride into town for recoup. When we made our way to the church, he seemed rested but mentally fatigued, and we're all afraid he's going to get into his own psyche, talk himself out.

So, we came up with a few options, all of which depend on the next few days. We've racked up 360 miles at the end of today, a tenth of our total mileage. Option one depends on how well George thinks he can do on the 80 miles a day we were planning, and basically means staying on route. Option two would be for George to act as support vehicle, carring supplies and scouting ahead in a car. The last option, which seems to be intriguing everyone, would be to switch routes, moving northward and following the Atlantic to it's Northernmost point at Bay Harbor, Maine. It'd cut some mileage off so we could knock the daily total down to around 60, and would exclude the desert, which is in everyone's mind considering how George is reacting to the tropic heat.

It wouldn't be the test we'd originally planned on, but it would still touch two tips of the States, would include George, and we're thinking that if we complete it in time (there'd be around 2,300 miles left to go), we just might be able to head up into Canada and either fly out of Quebec or possibly bike back to Milwaukee.

We'll figure it out in the next two days, before our route takes us Westward towards Alabama. I must admit, it'd be nice to see the southern coast from tip to tip. I'd have to pick up a tent, the bivy sack won't cut it in Georgia or South Carolina.

Then again, San Diego does sound mighty fine.....

 

The Way to Fort Lauderdale

An early start this morning. I saw the sun rise for the the first time in years without having to stay up all night. It's around 8:30 now, and I finally feel centered. Snapped a few times on my fellow riders, and had to make some apologies. Probably a combined effect of my body getting used to the riding, and the mental adaptations-I'm honestly just not used to being around other people in such close proximity. I travel well alone, and I've just realized that this'll be a challenge for me. Part of my hope for this trip is to grow, so maybe this'll help my patience with others. Not that anybody did anything, it's just hard to adapt to the needs of others in any situation, and in this case, with people I've just met.

Heavy dreams came to me last night, none of which I want to publish on a public forum. Suffice to say that my thoughts this morning weigh heavy as a result, and I'm happy we're putting in a long day. I need to get some thinking done, and now that we're out of the urban trap of Miami, the back and forth, stop and start of city riding, we can roll smoothly along the ocean, following A1A up the coast to the town of Tequesta, where we'll regroup and figure out a plan for the night, whether to move along or not. The rain that's been following us on and off looks to be backing off a bit, which is good news and bad, with the humidity and heat creeping in.

Miami, despite it's beauty, was a bit of a trap. The extra mileage we'd picked up the day before was lost to detours and dead ends, as well as a late (though needed) start to get bike parts and replace defective camera equipment. Still working out the kinks, as well as riding preferences/styles. To add the cherry on top, the church we'd planned on staying at cancelled on us (actually, ignored us), and we made plans to camp on the beach, until informed by the cops that it wasn't going down. We ended up in a hotel room, no place to squat outside, which helped the day out, a little comfort and a shower can do wonders.

The sun came back, and it's time to go. 70 miles to go.

Landing in Miami

Logistics and technical failure determined our routes today, and due to some mis-interpeted navigation, we rode more than we should have. What was supposed to be 85 miles crept steadily upwards towards the century mark, ending with 101.8 miles on my cyclometer. Strangely enough, though tired and starting to get hungry like I haven't in a long time, I feel fine. Like I could have done another twenty. I've got to be careful, though. I know that this'll catch up one day and I'll hit the wall, but right now I'm elated that I'm adapting so quickly. It's got to be the speed that we're moving at. Like crawling across America. I feel more like I'm walking than biking sometimes, and I'm being reminded constantly to slow down. That's been the challenge, so far, to move at an even, steady and persistent pace. I know it's wise, and that within a few weeks I'll be begging to slow down, but it can be hard to pull back sometimes. At the same time, I'm going to make sure we stop once in awhile to enjoy the beauty of the land we're passing through.

Our first day was almost a practice run, working out kinks and figuring out riding styles while following the Keys toward the mainland, and really, getting to know each other. Kevin, the retired firefighter. George, the pastor who's realizing his dream of biking from one end of this continent to the other. Jeff, the minister who's the only experienced hand at these kinds of travels, who seems to feed off of physical effort. Myself, who's really just happy that I get to do some of my favorite things, like filming, seeing land and sea I haven't tasted before, and mostly, riding around on my bike all day. I can't tell you how happy such a simple thing can make me. It's been far too long since I've coasted down long, open road like this.

I can already feel my mind relaxing. I've found myself thinking about things that should've been thought about long ago, feeling memories that I've filed away for future perusal come swinging back at me, the barriers and duties that have contained them fading a little bit as I concentrate on simply moving, a little bit every day.

And the road to Miami? Too long to go into detail now, it's midnight as I write this, and I need sleep. I can say that I never thought I'd meet so many kind, generous people in the state of Florida, and that biking down a two-lane road with overgrown glades and swampland on either side is both one of the most unusual forms of beauty I've known, with gigantic herons watching as you creep by their quiet but somehow always moving, slithering habitat, and one of the most terrifying, as trucks speed by, pushing you to the side of the shoulder, sucking you into their draft as they barrel past, not much room for either of you to move for the other.

Tomorrow, we see the other natural life of the land, cruising through the beaches of Miami and it's northernly cousins on our way to somewhere else...

 

When you get what you ask for...

Early this morning, -4am, to be exact- I boarded a plane out of Milwaukee, on my way to the Florida keys to begin a ride like I've never attempted before. To be honest, a ride I never dreamed I'd be attempting. A few short months ago I was asked to accompany a group of bicyclists on a spiritual trek across the Southern Tier of the United States, as a rider and, specifically, as a videographer, the idea being that a video shot from the point of view of an actual rider might shed some light on the reality of how a feat like this might affect someone. Mentally, physically, and spiritually, this might be the most challenging feat I've ever put myself up to, and the bonus of being able to shoot everything as it happens puts the cherry on top. 

To add to the potential drama and possible tragedy (as those of you who've ridden with me before well know), I feel it's important for you all to know that not only have I never toured before, I've never actually camped before either. Which should make for an interesting time....

 

How I decided to take advantage of all this? To walk away from my home, job, and loved ones for longer than I ever have before? It came last October, after floating around in these sulfuric waters, daydreaming and wondering where I was heading, staring at the Arctic sky and letting my mind open up.

 

While floating, a little over six months ago, I had several realizations about where I wanted my life to go. Many decisions were made, but at the top of the list were the decisions that I wanted to return to the craft of filmmaking, and the thought that I would be happy if I was able to travel at least a little bit every year, to places of great beauty. Three months later, out of the blue, I was approached by my friend George Claudio, who's my entry point to all of this, to do both of these things. So here I am, 'cause when you get exactly what you asked for, you'd better say yes, or you might never get it again.

 

Hope you all enjoy whatever follows in these posts. I have no idea what to expect, and that feels absolutely thrilling. And terrifying.

 

 

Coming back to Florida

The view from the 16 passenger plane that took us from Tampa to Key West.

In 1992, I traveled to Clearwater Beach with my friend Steve Rypel, the goal being to experience a Spring break as close to what Rodney Dangerfield had promised us college life could be. Namely, chicks and partying. Capitalized, in the Dangerfield world-as in, "Hey, what this funeral really needs is a PARTY!!!"

What we got, in the pre-internet/gps world, was a trip right into the aftermath of a Hurricane. Andrew, I believe. The whole thing probably could have been avoided if we'd just stopped listing to Descendents tapes-pretty much all Steve had packed in his car, and turned on the radio, maybe to check the local news or weather. We had hints, even, like the 1 inch of snowfall that fell in Tennesee while we drove through, which freaked out everyone but the two kids from Wisconsin on their way to what we thought would be LadyLand. Within an hour after our arrival, we were instructed to head back to the hotel. "Storms on it's way!". We laughed on walked on, what's a little rain? Twenty five minutes later we were running blindly through unfamiliar streets, trying to find a way back to the hotel we'd just checked into, as what seemed like the entire ocean poured itself over the beach. We spent the next two days in that room, wishing we'd pulled the boombox out of the car on our way in.

I saw a lot of beauty in that storm, as well as it's Fury. I will never forget the damage it did to that City, how it overturned cars, ripped off roofs, covered the world in sand, and ruined our party. I vowed never to come back to Florida.

Twenty years later, here I am. I get the feeling that I'm going to get to know this State very well, as we ride along the coast at an easy 10-15mph.

We had our first ride today, clocking in 72 miles after sleeping in a nursery at the 5th Ave Baptist church in Key West. It was a test of a day. Who'd take the lead and when? Who'd hit a wall, and when? Would any gear break off or show it's faults in rugged conditions? I worked on my pacing, as I'm used to moving much faster, but knowing that the secret to doing distance is to pace it all out, and consider the long haul. Everything seemed to be alright, my gear held up and the legs ran smoothly, and everyone else seemed to pull their weight well, despite some kinks that had to be ironed out. Many more will come, I'm sure.

We were rewarded on our arrival a few hours ago. We were planning on sleeping in pews, no showers or comforts, but when a woman from the church's congregation heard of us, and our travel plans, she offered to put us up in a rental property she owns, which was sitting vacant. It's absolutely stunning. The kind of place I could never afford if I was vacationing. A pool, wi-fi (which is why I can post this tonight), a kitchen, and beds.

This might be our most restfull stop on the journey, and I don't want to be spoiled, but I'm going to enjoy any hospitalities or moments of peace that we encounter. Thanks Linda, we'll sleep well tonight.

Tomorrow, we head to Miami, birthplace of one of my best friends and a place I'd never thought I'd go to voluntarily.