Will and I riding our own bikes and not the beach cruisers, gave us a certain local look. After visiting Fort Taylor and the oldest house I town (the name eludes me), we found a very laid back Cajun restaurant with the best jambalaya I have ever had. Devoid of tourists made for a peaceful lunch. That evening after a brew at the Green Parrot, filled with locals, we met Hank and Kathy back at the hostel for a small jam session between Will and his guitar and Hank and his Ukulele, down by the pool. Before crashing for the evening, I packed, showered and shaved so I could make a quick getaway to the airport to pick up my rented car. Three days gave me a good feel for Key West. The island is bustling with tourists to the point that I do not know why people pay millions for houses when there is hardly any privacy and quiet. Development has been halted by the State of Florida because the exposure the Keys have to the hurricanes and only one evacuation route.
Tomorrow, I drive 550 miles north to Jacksonville and to my reserved Airbnb where I will pack up and fly back to the cold of New England. I wish I could have kept on bicycling. Vietnam awaits.
Friday, January 11, 2019
Thursday, January 10, 2019
Hanging out in Key West
Why walk when you can see the city by bicycle. Returning to the rooster store, I had a fun time buying a few amusing items, high quality stuff. Next off to the coach luggage store where I made the uncharacteristic decision to purchase a small woman’s wallet. Tired of the same old men’s wallets which never have enough room and can’t take the abuse, I sprung for a wallet which was seventy percent off. Some how I will disguise the gold coach symbol, least my friends get the wrong idea. Practicability was the motive. Next stop, the airport to double check my car rental which I extended to two days at essentially the same price. This gives me the extra time to stop off to visit my cousin Niffy in Boca Ratan (Rat’s mouth).
Back at the hostel, one of my room mates, Will Roberts, very familiar with Key West, his fifth visittook me to “Sunset Celebration” on Mallory Square. Later, we went over to Hog’s Breath for a few brews and listened to a decent singer sing the standard Jimmy Buffet tunes and others related to Key West. Rendezvoused with Hank and Kathy for dinner at Harpoon Harry’s, a fun time was had by all. Tomorrow, Will and I will check out Fort Zackery Taylor and the oldest house in town,1828.
Back at the hostel, one of my room mates, Will Roberts, very familiar with Key West, his fifth visittook me to “Sunset Celebration” on Mallory Square. Later, we went over to Hog’s Breath for a few brews and listened to a decent singer sing the standard Jimmy Buffet tunes and others related to Key West. Rendezvoused with Hank and Kathy for dinner at Harpoon Harry’s, a fun time was had by all. Tomorrow, Will and I will check out Fort Zackery Taylor and the oldest house in town,1828.
Wednesday, January 9, 2019
End of the road, Key West
Up at 6:00, got it together, bid Hank and Kathy farewell and started rolling for Key West 35 miles west. Easy going, no tourists on the road; the miles clicked off rapidly until Key West appeared. My introduction to the town was deafening Navy F15 roaring overhead doing touch and goes at the naval base on the Island. Rode to the bitter end of route one and then found the giant land bound buoy marking the southern most Point in the United States. A line stretching fifty feet were those tourists wanting a picture of buoy and themselves, me included. Making friends along the way was instrumental in getting someone to snap my picture. I stood out because I was on a bike, sweat head to toe. Humidity the last two days has kept me sweating profusely. From the buoy I navigated over to my hostel, NYAH (not your average Hostel) on 320 Margaret Street. Great place with a classic Key West facade, modern interior including three pools, one being a hot tube. After a swim with my riding shorts, I changed over to my civilian clothes and headed down the street to Harpoon Harry’s for lunch, a laid back diner atmospheric place. Check in was 16:00 and my rooom was wonderful. Very well laid out with three spacious bunks with a nice bath and large shower. After a much needed nap, there was a happy hour on premise where I had a beer, cheese, etc.. I walked downtown and took in the street life, outdoor restaurants with live entertainment, art galleries and, of course, the tourist stores selling pork pie hats, flamming gay shirts and a bakery selling six dollar massive cookies. With a roosters everywhere, naturally there was a rooster store selling funny items related to the bird. What a riot; needless to say I had a good time picking and choosing. I found my way home and sacked out. Tomorrow I bicycle the town.
Tuesday, January 8, 2019
Did the seven mile bridge
Blew out of Curry Hammock State at 7:55 with the mission of getting over the seven mile bridge before the crazy tourists hit it.. What I was told would be s ten mile ride to the bridge turned out to be five. Once own the bridge, I had five feet of shoulder with s Jersey barrier on the outside, not high enough to give me a feeling of safety. A lot of water lay below which I wanted no part of ever, ever. The cars and trucks passing me gave me room and most of them were commuters. There were no gigantic motor homes with car in tow passing me with little room to spare. The traffic was spread out giving me a chance to ride unhindered. The road was flat with no wind allowing me to keep my speed up over fouteen mph. The miles went quickly thank god. Once over the bridge, I could relax. Hank and Kathy Greer wanted to check out Bahai Honda State Park for a place to camp. A mile down the road I found the place and was able to secure a site for the three of us. Had I waiting for Kathy to wake up, chances are we would have been SOL. Until check in, I scoped the park out, had a late breakfast and hung out. Not much dhade because hurricane Irma had wiped out countless trees. The site tried out to be the furthest site out on the peninsula, giving us plenty of privacy. Hank and Kathy showed up at 14:50. I had given up on them,thinking they had continued on to the Naval base in Key West. Hank was retired Air Force snd could stay on the base for free. Turns out they had a late breakfast with a few mimosa. They pitched their tent, passed on a shower until later and caught the local bus with me to an oasis six miles down the road. We indulged in an early dinner, talking about our children. Two boys and a girl for them and my two kept us jabbering for most of the evening. Caught the bus back, where upon I adjourned for the evening. They showered.
Tomorrow, thirty five miles to Key West, the end of the line.
Tomorrow, thirty five miles to Key West, the end of the line.
Sunday, January 6, 2019
Longest ride of the trip
Up early, left the Florida City hostel by 7:35 then stop for a quick bite at Burger King, kept it basic and healthy. The temperature dropped last night and was in the fifties when I left. Great Hostel I stayed in, Hoosville, which I would recommend to any cyclist or bohemian. I have grown rather attached to these places, funky and loaded with interesting people from all over the world. The twenty-four mile through the Everglades was totally fenced in. Probably to keep the Alligators and other such animals off the road. Any reasonable person would not venture to far off the road into the swamps, not me at least.
I arrived at Key Largo in less than two hours and judging from all the tourist honky-tonk advertising and stores, it was no place I wanted to stop. The riding was easy so I kept moving along from one Key to another. With each mile, the visual improved particularly with the private homes. For a good portion of the way, there was a nice pathway keeping the traffic at a distance. Several long bridges only provided a five foot shoulder with a jersey barrier on the outer edge. I stuck to the middle of the shoulder and kept a constant eye on the traffic coming up on me. A little nerve racking but manageable. Being Sunday, the RVs and other tourists crowded the road. After four hours, I crested fifty miles, that is moving right along. Just after noon I pulled into a convenience store for a fifty minute lunch break. Feeling pretty good, I pushed on until around 2:30 when I decided it was time to find a place. Stopping off at the Jolly Roger RV site, I was blown away by the price for a tent site, $82.50 per night. As polite as I could, I asked if there was any place less expensive. Praise Jesus, the woman at the counter called a nearby state park, Curry Hammock State Park. Being only a cyclist, the park said they would carve out a spot for me. Goggle gps jerked me around for a few extra miles but I finally arrived at the place with seventy-three miles on my odometer. Nice place by the ocean, terrific facilities and only $22. The park ranger asked that I not put up my tent until sunset when all the beach goers would be gone. The no-see-ems came out in force, so with a little bug spray and fast work, I set up the rent and climbed in. Just before I adjourned for the evening, two bicyclists, a couple, rode up to set up next to me. The guy said he knew me.”You live by a lighthouse, right?” Sure enough, in September they had stayed at my house on there way down the coast, small world. Tomorrow they are riding to a Key thirty miles away where they will try to stay at another state site. So I will be joining them. The idea here is to avoid the high price of lodging while closing in on Key West. I have yet to hear from two Warmshowers hosts I sent requests to last night who live in Key West. Up early tomorrow to get over the seven mile bridge before the crazy tourists get on the road.
I arrived at Key Largo in less than two hours and judging from all the tourist honky-tonk advertising and stores, it was no place I wanted to stop. The riding was easy so I kept moving along from one Key to another. With each mile, the visual improved particularly with the private homes. For a good portion of the way, there was a nice pathway keeping the traffic at a distance. Several long bridges only provided a five foot shoulder with a jersey barrier on the outer edge. I stuck to the middle of the shoulder and kept a constant eye on the traffic coming up on me. A little nerve racking but manageable. Being Sunday, the RVs and other tourists crowded the road. After four hours, I crested fifty miles, that is moving right along. Just after noon I pulled into a convenience store for a fifty minute lunch break. Feeling pretty good, I pushed on until around 2:30 when I decided it was time to find a place. Stopping off at the Jolly Roger RV site, I was blown away by the price for a tent site, $82.50 per night. As polite as I could, I asked if there was any place less expensive. Praise Jesus, the woman at the counter called a nearby state park, Curry Hammock State Park. Being only a cyclist, the park said they would carve out a spot for me. Goggle gps jerked me around for a few extra miles but I finally arrived at the place with seventy-three miles on my odometer. Nice place by the ocean, terrific facilities and only $22. The park ranger asked that I not put up my tent until sunset when all the beach goers would be gone. The no-see-ems came out in force, so with a little bug spray and fast work, I set up the rent and climbed in. Just before I adjourned for the evening, two bicyclists, a couple, rode up to set up next to me. The guy said he knew me.”You live by a lighthouse, right?” Sure enough, in September they had stayed at my house on there way down the coast, small world. Tomorrow they are riding to a Key thirty miles away where they will try to stay at another state site. So I will be joining them. The idea here is to avoid the high price of lodging while closing in on Key West. I have yet to hear from two Warmshowers hosts I sent requests to last night who live in Key West. Up early tomorrow to get over the seven mile bridge before the crazy tourists get on the road.
Saturday, January 5, 2019
Plowed my way through Miami
Staying at a youth Hostel can be a crap shoot. Most of the time I am lucky, last night was the exception. Three bunks, six guys, no problem accepted for this one obese guy who not only smelled but snored so no one could sleep. The unwritten rule is that everyone takes a shower and is considerate of everyone else’s private space, including excess snoring and light. I used my blue tooth headset to dampen the noise but sleeping was still difficult. I was up at 6:40 following a guy out who left thirty minutes earlier. The attendant down stairs heard our complains but how do you weed out someone who snores. It happened to me once in Dublin.
By 7:40 I was on the road to Florida City. Dealing with dozens of traffic lights was the biggest problem. Even when I down shift three gears coming up to a red light, pedaling from a start still requires plenty of effort. As for Miami Beach, I took plenty of pictures of the Art Deco buildings and Miami skyline. Lined up on the docks were several absolutely gigantic cruise ships, floating cities. For essentially the entire day, the lights were everywhere. Fortunately, however, there was a paved trail most of the way, sparing me from the traffic. Along the way I buddied up with a guy commuting home on his electric pedal assist bike. As an ER nurse, he had a long tiring shift and was in no rush to ramp up the speed. We talked the whole way, Tim giving me the scoop on the area. Having had a meager breakfast, I needed sustainance by 11:30. He pointed out a farmers market which I would have missed had I been alone. Being a heavily Hispanic area, all the food was Mexican and delicious. Being Saturday, the place was buzzing with all the locals. They looked at my loaded bike and I took in their scene, mutual curiosity.
Eight miles further, thirty-five overall, I arrived in Florida City at the Hoosville Hostel, very cool layout. Huge outdoor shower, palm trees with hammocks, fire pit, spring filled rock pool and very laidback. It took me back to the sixties. Only one other older guy in my six bunk room, a relief from last night. Even before my shower, I laid down for a brief nap and blacked out for two hours. After a hypnotic outside shower in a tropical setting, I shared a beer with my roommate and headed next door for an authentic mom and pop Mexican dinner. Back at the hostel, the NFL playoffs were on outside on a large screen. For the first time in over a week, the temperature took a dive into the fifties, as low as fifty-three overnight, an Arctic blast.
Tomorrow, will be a thirty mile jaunt to Key Largo where there is a campsite. I have covered over four hundred and twenty-five miles to date.
By 7:40 I was on the road to Florida City. Dealing with dozens of traffic lights was the biggest problem. Even when I down shift three gears coming up to a red light, pedaling from a start still requires plenty of effort. As for Miami Beach, I took plenty of pictures of the Art Deco buildings and Miami skyline. Lined up on the docks were several absolutely gigantic cruise ships, floating cities. For essentially the entire day, the lights were everywhere. Fortunately, however, there was a paved trail most of the way, sparing me from the traffic. Along the way I buddied up with a guy commuting home on his electric pedal assist bike. As an ER nurse, he had a long tiring shift and was in no rush to ramp up the speed. We talked the whole way, Tim giving me the scoop on the area. Having had a meager breakfast, I needed sustainance by 11:30. He pointed out a farmers market which I would have missed had I been alone. Being a heavily Hispanic area, all the food was Mexican and delicious. Being Saturday, the place was buzzing with all the locals. They looked at my loaded bike and I took in their scene, mutual curiosity.
Eight miles further, thirty-five overall, I arrived in Florida City at the Hoosville Hostel, very cool layout. Huge outdoor shower, palm trees with hammocks, fire pit, spring filled rock pool and very laidback. It took me back to the sixties. Only one other older guy in my six bunk room, a relief from last night. Even before my shower, I laid down for a brief nap and blacked out for two hours. After a hypnotic outside shower in a tropical setting, I shared a beer with my roommate and headed next door for an authentic mom and pop Mexican dinner. Back at the hostel, the NFL playoffs were on outside on a large screen. For the first time in over a week, the temperature took a dive into the fifties, as low as fifty-three overnight, an Arctic blast.
Tomorrow, will be a thirty mile jaunt to Key Largo where there is a campsite. I have covered over four hundred and twenty-five miles to date.
Friday, January 4, 2019
On the road to Miami Beach
If I get too comfortable in any one spot, my anxiety spikes knowing I will have to break out of this comfort zone. Niffy and George laid out the red carpet. Just the guest suite was on parallel with the Ritz. Breakfast, lunch and dinner were all four star. Watching the soccer game at an authentic English pub with George, Paul and Eric was a treat. Shortly there after, Niffy orchestrated a small diner party, putting me at the head of the table. So, you can see how, I was reluctant to leave. Yet, nothing can hold me back from the road. After the pictures and a hugo off I pedaled for Miami Beach fifty miles south.
The addition of a compass to my bars has saved me numerous times.This time I ended up on a highway system leading me to the Fort Lauderdale airport. Working my way out of a concrete highway maze had me riding on the breakdown lane going against the traffic. Just as I reached A1A, I rode over a grass strip and picked up several fire ants which had me swatting them for several minutes. Nothing serious, the stings smarted around my right ankle for a good half hour.
From Lauderdale south the high rise condominiums became a near endless strip as I progressed. Likewise, the crosswalk traffic lights proliferated to accommodate the hords of humanity housed in these highrises. Gear down, stop, wait, start off again to reach cruising speed, to be repeated dozens times, mile after mile. The traffic ramped up but the bike lanes of various types kept me safe, sort of. Without my horizonally mounted orange flag and my glasses mounted mirror help to keep my wits in tact as the cars passed me going five times my speed. Fifty-one miles brought me to the Miami Beach Hostel I booked the night before. Funky place that reminded me of the hostels I stayed in over in Spain and France. I stripped all my bags off my bike and used all three of my cable lock to secure my bike to the bike railing in the back. Security camera at the check-in counter did not placate my doubt I had for the safe storage of my bike. Waiting for check-in, I started up a conversation with a forty-seven year old Brazilian who lives in a town smack in the middle of the Amazon and who is a philosophy professor at a small college there. Feeling somewhat revived after a hot shower, I booked another hostel in Florida City for tomorrow night. With that done, Ceasar, the Brazilian, and I walked a few blocks to a local Latin chicken place and feasted for under ten dollars a piece.
With only thirty-seven miles to Florida City, I will try to ride over to the shore and check out the Art Deco building that Miami Beach is know for.
The addition of a compass to my bars has saved me numerous times.This time I ended up on a highway system leading me to the Fort Lauderdale airport. Working my way out of a concrete highway maze had me riding on the breakdown lane going against the traffic. Just as I reached A1A, I rode over a grass strip and picked up several fire ants which had me swatting them for several minutes. Nothing serious, the stings smarted around my right ankle for a good half hour.
From Lauderdale south the high rise condominiums became a near endless strip as I progressed. Likewise, the crosswalk traffic lights proliferated to accommodate the hords of humanity housed in these highrises. Gear down, stop, wait, start off again to reach cruising speed, to be repeated dozens times, mile after mile. The traffic ramped up but the bike lanes of various types kept me safe, sort of. Without my horizonally mounted orange flag and my glasses mounted mirror help to keep my wits in tact as the cars passed me going five times my speed. Fifty-one miles brought me to the Miami Beach Hostel I booked the night before. Funky place that reminded me of the hostels I stayed in over in Spain and France. I stripped all my bags off my bike and used all three of my cable lock to secure my bike to the bike railing in the back. Security camera at the check-in counter did not placate my doubt I had for the safe storage of my bike. Waiting for check-in, I started up a conversation with a forty-seven year old Brazilian who lives in a town smack in the middle of the Amazon and who is a philosophy professor at a small college there. Feeling somewhat revived after a hot shower, I booked another hostel in Florida City for tomorrow night. With that done, Ceasar, the Brazilian, and I walked a few blocks to a local Latin chicken place and feasted for under ten dollars a piece.
With only thirty-seven miles to Florida City, I will try to ride over to the shore and check out the Art Deco building that Miami Beach is know for.
Thursday, January 3, 2019
Another day of leisure
Not wanting to over sleep as a guest, I rallied after only seven hours of shut eye. Yesterday’s ride of sixty-five miles was a haul but arriving at a safe zone enabled me to re-energize with few hours than my standard eight. Seeking adventure digs deep into my mental energy. A short reprieve from this search can result in deeper, more efficient sleep. Both George and Niffy were up with breakfast cooking on the stove. After another delicious meal, George and I lifted my bike onto his workbench. The spoke creaking persisted despite my further tightening of the spokes. The wheels will more than likely need replacing but I am betting that they can make it through the trip without any major breakdown. Adjusting the derailleur proved equally frustrating, resulting in having to take the bike to a bike shop for fine tuning and explanation as to how to get the gears to properly shift. YouTube only explains so much. Face to face interaction with someone who knows what they are doing is really the best way to learn the process.
George invited me out to an Englush pub (imported board by board from England) to be with two other friends, Paul and Eric, to watch a soccer match between Manchester and Liverpool. Beer and chicken wings coupled by an intense match made for a fun afternoon. I can’t remember ever watching a soccer match beginning too end. No ads to boot.
Evening time, Niffy invited two couples over for a small dinner party, a very nice time. Close friends, very casual dress but a nice table setting. I pitched in during the clean up which Niffy appreciate.
Tomorrow I ride go Miami where I have reserved a hostel room. It is less than fifty miles to my destination.
George invited me out to an Englush pub (imported board by board from England) to be with two other friends, Paul and Eric, to watch a soccer match between Manchester and Liverpool. Beer and chicken wings coupled by an intense match made for a fun afternoon. I can’t remember ever watching a soccer match beginning too end. No ads to boot.
Evening time, Niffy invited two couples over for a small dinner party, a very nice time. Close friends, very casual dress but a nice table setting. I pitched in during the clean up which Niffy appreciate.
Tomorrow I ride go Miami where I have reserved a hostel room. It is less than fifty miles to my destination.
Wednesday, January 2, 2019
Longest day yet
I knew that today would be a test of my will, 65 miles to reach my cousin Niffy in Boca Ratan. Starting off at 7:08, I rode four hours and forty-five minutes before I reached the fifty mile mark. The sky was blue with barely a cloud and sun beat down on me unmercifully. With water sweating out of me faster than I realized, I began to bonk. My body was telling me to stop but I persisted. Pouring down the water brought me back to life and allowed me to push onward. A1A followed the coast with jogs across the inland waterway to get around water outlets to the ocean. The bridges are steep and short, challenging my legs as I shifted down to my granny gear. The views on top were always panoramic, worthy of a few photo opportunities. The economic disparity between the numerous communities I passed through varied enormously. The wealth in Palm Beach was over the top. Huge mansions with lavish landscaping including thirty foot hedges. The whole place reeked of gross conspicuous consumption. When I stopped for lunch at the Palm Beach Publix grocery store, I had to sit on the ground to eat for lack of benches. After forty minutes a woman employee came out of the store and pointedly asked what my destination was. It was a subtle way of figuring out if I was homeless. No benches for the homeless to sit. I was not impressed and if anything, I was disgusted by the stores atttitude.
I pushed through the last fifteen miles, dealing with mild hand numbing, stiff arms and sore behind. The last bridge in Boca Ratan I crossed was a blow torch, over one hundred degrees. Finally, I entered a gated community where I found my cousin’s house. From that point on, I went from being beaten upon to being treated like royally. After cleaning up, George Ligeti (Niffy’s husband) gave me the tour of his shop. Loaded with state of the art equipment, he had an amazingly little shop of four hundred square feet. Definitely a new world woodworker, I hope I can persuade him to learn joinery and how to use the associated handtools. Next stop was to a nice restaurant where we gabbed about everything, a really good time was had. After loading up on chocolate at a store near the restaurant, we cruised home where we settled into a movie (SOLO) in their theater room. You have to see this set up, two tiers of seating of divinely comfortable sofa chairs, eight by ten foot roll down screen over a library breakfront; the room could easily fit twenty people. The only thing missing was the concession stand and the smell of popcorn.
I will be here for two nights. My room has its own bathroom and lounge room; almost too much for me to handle given my austere way of living....but I love it. Tomorrow, repairing the bike by tightening the spokes and adjusting the gear cable is priority. My remaining days on the road, I want to keep under fifty miles a day.
I pushed through the last fifteen miles, dealing with mild hand numbing, stiff arms and sore behind. The last bridge in Boca Ratan I crossed was a blow torch, over one hundred degrees. Finally, I entered a gated community where I found my cousin’s house. From that point on, I went from being beaten upon to being treated like royally. After cleaning up, George Ligeti (Niffy’s husband) gave me the tour of his shop. Loaded with state of the art equipment, he had an amazingly little shop of four hundred square feet. Definitely a new world woodworker, I hope I can persuade him to learn joinery and how to use the associated handtools. Next stop was to a nice restaurant where we gabbed about everything, a really good time was had. After loading up on chocolate at a store near the restaurant, we cruised home where we settled into a movie (SOLO) in their theater room. You have to see this set up, two tiers of seating of divinely comfortable sofa chairs, eight by ten foot roll down screen over a library breakfront; the room could easily fit twenty people. The only thing missing was the concession stand and the smell of popcorn.
I will be here for two nights. My room has its own bathroom and lounge room; almost too much for me to handle given my austere way of living....but I love it. Tomorrow, repairing the bike by tightening the spokes and adjusting the gear cable is priority. My remaining days on the road, I want to keep under fifty miles a day.
earliest start, most miles covered
Saying goodbye to Bob and Mary was tough, they were so incredibly nice to me. People like them restore my faith in humanity. 7:04 the wheels got rolling; four wind free hours of riding. Once the heat cranks up combined by the directness of the sun and wind head on, the going gets tough. I pushed hard and keep the speed over sixteen kph. At 12:00 when I pulled over for lunch (after a few brief stops along the way), I had cover over fifty miles. After a forty-five minute break I climbed aboard to finish the ride to Stuart. Before leaving I went online to find a place to stay o no avail. The three Warmshowers host never got back to me, the Airbnb’s were booked and there was no campsite. The last resort is an inexpensive motel which I settled for once I arrived at Stuart. Nice center but the same touristy stuff. Checked in, cleaned up, walked over to the Publik grocery store for dinner. Looking at my map, I saw that I am sixty-five miles from Boca Ratan where my cousin Niffy lives. A long run but I can do if I take enough breaks, drink enough water and eat enough food. Tomorrow I will take the day off.