Florida's last grasp at redemption

We saddled up this morning after taking a much needed day off in Daytona Beach, where potential tragedy was averted as the tropical storm named Beryl struck land near St. Augustine and splintered into smaller, spread out wind/rain formations. We had taken refuge in a hotel near the edge of town, and were eager to move again. Funny, after a couple hundred miles (600, actually), my legs actually want to keep pedaling. I felt a little antsy yesterday, walking through the strips malls and getting soaked in sudden, five minute downpours. Maybe it was because we had to stay there. I still have a hard time doing what I'm told to do, even if it's the heavy hand of Mother Nature delivering those orders. The rest was good and felt well-deserved. I ducked out on the others for awhile, found a little cafe and wrote some postcards, threw on my headphones and watched Daytona stumble by, enjoying a little solitude as my mind came back to me. I need to do that, I still haven't quite gotten used to the constant company. One of my goals on this ride is to examine myself a bit, to find the cracks and shields that've led me to such a solitary life, when I was once so much on the opposite side of that coin. Ironically, it's not so easy to think about yourself when surrounded by others, especially some you've only just met, and have to learn to work with immediately. Then again, typing that out makes me think it might be just what I need. Regardless, everyone took advantage of the time in their own ways, and it was well-used.

So we got our steeds prepped up and hit the pavement early, anticipating rain and wind, and everything else we could expect from a storm named Beryl. We strapped everything in, double wrapped electronics and readied rain gear for quick access, and were rewarded with some of the best riding yet. The tail end of the storm was swooping up behind us, and we swiftly picked up to the low 20s with little effort. The sun was covered by clouds, and the temp held at a cool 75 degrees as the wind, which only a few days ago held us crawling in the humidity to the low teens, cradled our rides and scurried us forward, to the oldest city in the US, St. Augustine.

I never, since my first visit here and perhaps even earlier, would have dreamed I'd ever say anything like this, but I'd love to come back here, to Florida, to spend some time in St. Augustine. Wow, that was even hard to type. We only spent a few short hours here, but the people I met, the architecture, and the general vibe of the place felt more like a place I could be than any city we've ridden through yet. Like granola without the raisins, it had just enough hippy vibe to be chill and easy to consume without crossing the line into self-parody or forced observance. I'll be back.

And tonight? We sleep in the home of Art and Pamela Livingston, whose friend Bob called them after joining us for breakfast a few days ago and explained that we'd be passing by their residence, and since we were explorers like they'd been, we could use a place to recoup. Art and Pam did more than that, feeding us spiraled ham, mac and cheese, veggies, and fresh pie with ice cream, letting us dirty up their shower, and giving us a place to crash.

I have to say, the generosity and humanity of the people we've met so far has amazed me as much if not more than the natural wonder of the land itself. In the past week we've been fed, listened to, directed, given shelter and fed again, by people who we may never see again. I'm so happy to see this, to be allowed to experience true selflessness. Believe me, it helps.

Then again, in two days we'll be in Georgia.

Here's Kevin, navigating in the early sun.

More photos to come over the next few days. Right now I need to sleep.