Wednesday May 7, 2007: Ride #10
Left Crestview at 6:51am. I was up by 5am and took time to get everything back in place in my bags and relax before heading out. Ate breakfast in the room and then split.
Not an hour on the road, I came to the town of Holt and Bowman's gas station. This place was a classic and I had no idea when I rolled up. As Ed Hobbs, the first guy to talk to me, put it: "If you don't get the newspaper, you come here. All the town's news can be heard right here." Once she saw us talking, the 24-hour gas station/bait shop attendant on a smoke break outside said to me "I see you met our local target practice" laughing as she referred to Ed and his bicycle.
Ed is a 62 year old man from Mississppi. College educated and retired, he buys bikes at flea markets and sees if he can fix them up. Today he had parked outside Bowman's his favorite of the three bikes he owns. It is turquoise blue and with the easy-rider look to it I understand why he insists it has the feel of a recumbant bike in an upright form factor. With an occasional EAA-Oshkosh sticker he had affixed to his bike, it was a beauty. He shared a tip: to keep his butt from sweating, he wraps plastic grocery bags over the seat. He also has a shoulder rocket launcher canister strapped to the rack on the back in which he keeps his tools, airpump, etc. With wire racks on the back, and 5 America Online CD's stacked at the front handlebars to act as a reflector, this rig was a classic. I was as amazed at his ride as he was at mine, marveling at my disc brakes, spoke holder, etc.
Ed tells me he is training for a longer distance ride on the Natchez Trace in Tennessee. At 62, he rides 20 miles each Sunday, though this last weekend he rode "two marathons" (as he put it): 27 miles out and 27 miles back, just to see if he could do it.
Ed shared with me that he wants to build a house out of those huge steel shipping containers you see on ships and trains sometimes. He has purchased two at $2,000 each. "Real nice ones, hardly any dents." He has a couple acres and intends to build a home there with these containers, insulating it, etc. He also wants to be free of all utilities by relying on solar power, etc. Amazing dreams shared so freely with just some San Diego guy like me riding by.
He said he gets by on about $5,500 a year, partly because he only rides his bike everywhere. A bicycle enthusiast and unaffected by gas prices, he hopes that the rising price of gas causes America to find another direction than petroleum. I hadn't thought I would be gathering opinions about gas prices from Americans along this ride, but it seems like it stems from any biking conversation, and appropriate for Presidential candidates. I wonder if I would get a large vote with a hand-shaking baby-kissing effort like that.
As Ed Hobbs was heading off with his orange safety vest tied on but no helmet, I met Hugh Adams who said "I heard you say you were from San Diego". Yessir, I said, almost feeling proud of my attempt to slide in to my surroundings. Hugh was proud to share with me that he spent one year studying in San diego at the Navy Prep school (later moved to Pensacola) to dodge the draft for the Korean conflict. After asking me what was left of Navy buildings here and there, I pedaled on down Highway 90.
Back on Highway 90, a road crew seemed to mock me with their SLOW signs. As I snapped the photo, the other crew members started laughing, seeing my loaded bike and knowing why I had pulled the camera out.
East of Milton, along Highway 90, I picked up the original State Road SR1 originally opened in 1921. It was a mishmash of brick, concrete, soft sand, and multiple asphalt patches put in place over the years, but it felt historic being on it. Before I even got on the path, I was just riding parallel to it on the shoulder of Highway 90 going west, and I heard a shout from someone on the path clear as a bell "Way to go, son. Keep pedaling!!!" Realizing that was for me, the sudden and temporary quickening of my pedaling took place. I shouted "thanks, man" as I rode on but never saw the face from where the encouragement came.
In Milton, I met a couple motorcyclists as I pulled into a BP station. Mary and Dennis had two very nice motorcycles parked in the shade as they were preparing to get back on and head off. Dennis flat out laughed at me when I responded "San Diego" to his inquiry as to where I was heading. "On that thing?" he said, as if I was riding the bike Ed Hobbs in Holt had. After a few more questions for me, I think they saw I was for real and both congratulated me on the quest, and rode off on their motorized and also GPS-enabled versions of what I was riding.
After a one-hour stop at the Milton library to update the blog, I got started again toward Pensacola. Foolish mistake. The wind had picked up, with headwinds at 10-20 mph. Getting out of Milton wasn't easy with the traffic I was convinced had no respect for bikes despite the "share the roadway" signs I think only I was seeing. Once to the bay, the shoulder deteriorated periodically, but knowing I was only a few miles now from my evening destination, I kept pedaling wth my face in the wind. Up on over the bridge over Escambia Bay followed by some nice rollers on Scenic Highway 90, and finally into residential sideroads where I will stay tonight with my friend Ashley Patrick and his wife. I hadn't seen Ashley in over 8 years when I worked with him in Mobile. Laughs have started already.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Bonifay, FL to Crestview, Fl (56 miles)
Tuesday May 6, 2008: Ride #9
I was up between 5:30am and 6:00am. Clothes that I washed in the sink the night before were dry for the most part. Tried to get breakfast from the restaurant next door, but get this...
as I walked up, a girl with an apron was dropped off by a pickup truck, later found to be "Kevin". She stood outside the door, and I asked when do you open? She told me they were supposed to open now, but ever since Kevin went to bike week in Panama City last weekend he can't find his key to open up, and Steve, the other guy with a key, doesn't get up until noon. She pointed to a neighboring motel room with a Harley parked next to it and told me "that's Steve's place right there." Smirking at the situation since this is not how business where I am from gets done, I asked "how long before Kevin is back?" She responded "I don't know. I am not sure where he lives. I guess it would be the amount of time needed for him to drive home, find the key, and drive back." Gee, I should've thought of that. She added "But I am still getting paid right now because I'm here on time." Hysterical. I went back to the room and made oatmeal, but I noticed when I started pedaling at 7:15am that Kevin must've found the key or Steve woke up early because the restaurant was open.
As I biked out of Bonifay, I crossed the Chocktawhatchee River.
A little further I met Franz and Jan from Holland biking east on Highway 90. We met in a rolling hill area. They took holiday to bike in the US. They started in Phoenix and once they reach St. Augustine they intend to head north along the Atlantic. They travel 60 miles a day and stay in motels mostly. They told me they never thought they would see someone heading west so late toward summer. Yeah. I had heard that before, and thought of it myself. I am definitely late. If I make it, well then the success will be more significant. If I don't, then timing of a trip like this should be the first lesson to takeaway. After my new Holland friends to go visit Vernus at Ichetucknee Springs, we parted.
Rolling hills ahead and flat roads behind after I met those two. I have been following Highway 90 yesterday and today, with more to come. Defuniak Springs, FL was the treasure on the route so far. A super cute, very charming town complete with restored train station, bandshell, nicely restored homes, with a beautiful park surrounding Lake Defiuniak. Defuniak Springs was significant for me because it meant I had completed 1 of the 7 maps that detail the Southern Tier route I am following. That means I have 6 to go. I get a boost from things like crossing a time zone, completing a map, or finishing a State (soon). It seems I look for motivation just about anywhere since already this trip has gotten it's lonely stretches, maybe due to the fact the finish is just so far off.
So how is the bike seat? Well, it is breaking in... slowly.
After talking with Audrey last night, she recommended using excessive amounts of powder to "keep things dry down there". Having only Gold Bond Extra Medicated Powder, I used what I had. Pedaling around Lake Defuniak, I swear my butt was on fire for a few moments. I knew the rage of Gold Bond would subside in a few minutes, and after that, it felt oddly refreshing.
It was only 10:30am when I left Defuniak Springs. Too early for lunch I thought. I wanted to be done with today's ride before eating. Maybe I could make it to the town of Mossy Head before I got lunch? After 10 or so miles of Highway 90 and reaching Mossy Head (named by the railroad folks I am told), a woman at the gas station told me she saw 10 cyclists come through on Monday heading west. Hmmm... I am not far behind. I left Mossy Head at 12:15pm or so, still not having taken lunch, and made it to my destination, Crestview (popln 15,000 I think). At a Tom Thumb gas station just inside town, I was calling motels when a woman named Sally who was using the payphone began talking with me. She took interest in the ride and said she was impressed with what I was attempting. We talked about the charity, gas prices, etc. After telling her I would not complain about gas prices since I now have this experience of self-propelled transportation, she told me a story.
She lived between Mossy Head and Crestview in a 12-yr old home she bought new. The house is about 1/4 mile from the railroad tracks. She can tell when the train is loaded down, mostly around holiday time in the past, because the house shakes. But these days, the house shakes all the time as the train passes and it is likely due to additional weight being carried that trucks might otherwise have carted across the nation. Interesting perspective related to high gas prices!
In Crestview, on my way to the chosen motel, I stopped at CVS and got some non-medicated, simply soothing baby powder. Checking into the Crestview Inn on Highway 90, the Indian woman told me it was nothing fancy, but clean. Asking for a room with a refirgerator, she put me in Unit 103 right next to her place since it was the only one with a refrigerator. It was only $42, but it beat the place in Bonifay by a long shot, and was nice. After dragging myself off the bed and getting in a shower, I went to McDonalds at 3:30pm. By 6:30pm, I walked across the street to Coach-n-Four, a restaurant Sally recommended for the best steak in town. Totally right (as far as I know, since I only had this one steak in town). But it was seriously tasty, and would provide a good catalyst for some good rest tonight.
start time: 7:13am
end time: 2:15pm
ride time: 4:15:17
miles: 55.78
avg speed: 13.11 mph
max speed: 30.90 mph
calories: 4222
elevation: rolling up to around 268 feet
I was up between 5:30am and 6:00am. Clothes that I washed in the sink the night before were dry for the most part. Tried to get breakfast from the restaurant next door, but get this...
as I walked up, a girl with an apron was dropped off by a pickup truck, later found to be "Kevin". She stood outside the door, and I asked when do you open? She told me they were supposed to open now, but ever since Kevin went to bike week in Panama City last weekend he can't find his key to open up, and Steve, the other guy with a key, doesn't get up until noon. She pointed to a neighboring motel room with a Harley parked next to it and told me "that's Steve's place right there." Smirking at the situation since this is not how business where I am from gets done, I asked "how long before Kevin is back?" She responded "I don't know. I am not sure where he lives. I guess it would be the amount of time needed for him to drive home, find the key, and drive back." Gee, I should've thought of that. She added "But I am still getting paid right now because I'm here on time." Hysterical. I went back to the room and made oatmeal, but I noticed when I started pedaling at 7:15am that Kevin must've found the key or Steve woke up early because the restaurant was open.
As I biked out of Bonifay, I crossed the Chocktawhatchee River.
A little further I met Franz and Jan from Holland biking east on Highway 90. We met in a rolling hill area. They took holiday to bike in the US. They started in Phoenix and once they reach St. Augustine they intend to head north along the Atlantic. They travel 60 miles a day and stay in motels mostly. They told me they never thought they would see someone heading west so late toward summer. Yeah. I had heard that before, and thought of it myself. I am definitely late. If I make it, well then the success will be more significant. If I don't, then timing of a trip like this should be the first lesson to takeaway. After my new Holland friends to go visit Vernus at Ichetucknee Springs, we parted.
Rolling hills ahead and flat roads behind after I met those two. I have been following Highway 90 yesterday and today, with more to come. Defuniak Springs, FL was the treasure on the route so far. A super cute, very charming town complete with restored train station, bandshell, nicely restored homes, with a beautiful park surrounding Lake Defiuniak. Defuniak Springs was significant for me because it meant I had completed 1 of the 7 maps that detail the Southern Tier route I am following. That means I have 6 to go. I get a boost from things like crossing a time zone, completing a map, or finishing a State (soon). It seems I look for motivation just about anywhere since already this trip has gotten it's lonely stretches, maybe due to the fact the finish is just so far off.
So how is the bike seat? Well, it is breaking in... slowly.
After talking with Audrey last night, she recommended using excessive amounts of powder to "keep things dry down there". Having only Gold Bond Extra Medicated Powder, I used what I had. Pedaling around Lake Defuniak, I swear my butt was on fire for a few moments. I knew the rage of Gold Bond would subside in a few minutes, and after that, it felt oddly refreshing.
It was only 10:30am when I left Defuniak Springs. Too early for lunch I thought. I wanted to be done with today's ride before eating. Maybe I could make it to the town of Mossy Head before I got lunch? After 10 or so miles of Highway 90 and reaching Mossy Head (named by the railroad folks I am told), a woman at the gas station told me she saw 10 cyclists come through on Monday heading west. Hmmm... I am not far behind. I left Mossy Head at 12:15pm or so, still not having taken lunch, and made it to my destination, Crestview (popln 15,000 I think). At a Tom Thumb gas station just inside town, I was calling motels when a woman named Sally who was using the payphone began talking with me. She took interest in the ride and said she was impressed with what I was attempting. We talked about the charity, gas prices, etc. After telling her I would not complain about gas prices since I now have this experience of self-propelled transportation, she told me a story.
She lived between Mossy Head and Crestview in a 12-yr old home she bought new. The house is about 1/4 mile from the railroad tracks. She can tell when the train is loaded down, mostly around holiday time in the past, because the house shakes. But these days, the house shakes all the time as the train passes and it is likely due to additional weight being carried that trucks might otherwise have carted across the nation. Interesting perspective related to high gas prices!
In Crestview, on my way to the chosen motel, I stopped at CVS and got some non-medicated, simply soothing baby powder. Checking into the Crestview Inn on Highway 90, the Indian woman told me it was nothing fancy, but clean. Asking for a room with a refirgerator, she put me in Unit 103 right next to her place since it was the only one with a refrigerator. It was only $42, but it beat the place in Bonifay by a long shot, and was nice. After dragging myself off the bed and getting in a shower, I went to McDonalds at 3:30pm. By 6:30pm, I walked across the street to Coach-n-Four, a restaurant Sally recommended for the best steak in town. Totally right (as far as I know, since I only had this one steak in town). But it was seriously tasty, and would provide a good catalyst for some good rest tonight.
start time: 7:13am
end time: 2:15pm
ride time: 4:15:17
miles: 55.78
avg speed: 13.11 mph
max speed: 30.90 mph
calories: 4222
elevation: rolling up to around 268 feet
Monday, May 5, 2008
Chattahoochee, FL to Bonifay, FL (54 miles)
Monday May 5, 2008 Ride #8
Last night the winds picked up. I didn't sleep real well, and the geese were honking pretty early as well. That KFC or whatever caused the upset stomach continued to plague me throughout the night. I am thinking I may have been dehydrated as well since I managed to put 32 oz of Powerade down through the night.
I woke up to Mr. Goose walking past my tent door. He seems protective of my campsite since I fed him some pasta yesterday. A different kind of HONK comes from him when he thinks other geese are coming over to be my friend, too.
I got started a little later than planned thanks to my cell phone (which I use as an alarm clock) switching over to a Central Time Zone tower from an Eastern Time Zone tower in the middle of the night. But when I told camp neighbor Phil, "I shoulda been gone by now", he responded correctly "Look, last night you told me you are an ordinary Joe doing this ride. You probably needed the sleep." And he was right. 30 minutes late was not going to upset the day.
After eating 3 packets of oatmeal (vs a usual 2 packet start) I got on the road. The worst part was climbing out of the campground. It is a nice way to ride IN to the campground, but a horrible task to ride OUT. Nevertheless, I managed to get up the hill well and across the Apalachicola River I went. Roads seemed manageable today, rolling hills, but I am getting used to them. Weather was partly cloudy, but mostly clear and a nice headwind that wasn't too strong, but just cooling. Not bad.
Following US Highway 90 west, I first hit Sneads and the Grand Ridge. Of course, my thoughts went to Mel Brookes Blazing Saddles town of Rock Ridge ("someone go back and get a sh!tload of dimes"). A little past Grand Ridge, where I was supposed to follow County Road 164A, but elected to stay on 90, a dog tore out from the bushes near a house and headed straight for me. I was just thinking that on lesser traveled county roads I could probably have some music on while I pedaled. Music in this case could've cost me precious seconds of reaction time. I heard the bushes parting as he tore through, and no matter what is causing that, I want to get away from it. So I picked up speed. Soon this dog is running at his fullest speed next to the bike and I am making shouting sounds at him that I don't often make. After three of these shrieks at him, and an increased pace he fell back. Phew! After my heart rate slowed, I got back to my peaceful morning ride.
After the dog terror, I found Marianna, the largest of the day with population of 6,230, followed by Cottondale. I ate lunch in Cottondale after having logged 35 miles or so. I ate at Braxton's Oyster Bar & Grill. Their slogan "we can shuck 'em faster than you can eat 'em because you can't eat 'em 'til we shuck 'em". Maybe it was because I wasn't wearing a John Deere cap like the others, but it took a while to get served and makes me doubt any fast shuckin' had I chosen oysters instead of the burger.
I saw another cyclist in Cottondale, but it was through the oyster-shuckin' window of the restaurant, and the cyclist was actually pointed out to me by a John Deere cap wearing customer as if all cyclists knew eachother. They looked to be heading East as everyone has so far. Maybe that means I am keeping good time and no one is passing me going west, or maybe it simply means no one would think of going west this late in the year as the asphalt begins to sizzle.
I rode into the town of Chipley, and found the public library where I have updated the online journals or blogs.
After I left the Chipley library, I climbed back on the bike and headed to Bonifay. Just as the day started with a dog tearing after me, it would end in a similar way. With only 3 more miles to go, a white sheep dog-looking dog came out after me. I let out a tremendous shout at him and he stopped his approach. Either that oir he reached the property line of which he is so protective.
I stayed at the Economy Lodge in Bonifay. Not a great place. Although there was a pool and the water was clear, there was so much junk stacked in the pool area that it was clear no one uses the pool. A rat was also seen walking among the junk stacked there. No pool time for me.
After a shower and doing some laundry in a sink, I walked to the restaurant next door (despite the rat proximity), and got some dinner. After buying a few drinks for tomorrow I hit the sack.
start time: 8:48am Eastern, 7:48am Central
end time: 5:00pm Central
time on bike: 4:18:21
miles: 54.11
avg speed: 12.57 mph
max speed: 35.70 mph
calories: 3918
Last night the winds picked up. I didn't sleep real well, and the geese were honking pretty early as well. That KFC or whatever caused the upset stomach continued to plague me throughout the night. I am thinking I may have been dehydrated as well since I managed to put 32 oz of Powerade down through the night.
I woke up to Mr. Goose walking past my tent door. He seems protective of my campsite since I fed him some pasta yesterday. A different kind of HONK comes from him when he thinks other geese are coming over to be my friend, too.
I got started a little later than planned thanks to my cell phone (which I use as an alarm clock) switching over to a Central Time Zone tower from an Eastern Time Zone tower in the middle of the night. But when I told camp neighbor Phil, "I shoulda been gone by now", he responded correctly "Look, last night you told me you are an ordinary Joe doing this ride. You probably needed the sleep." And he was right. 30 minutes late was not going to upset the day.
After eating 3 packets of oatmeal (vs a usual 2 packet start) I got on the road. The worst part was climbing out of the campground. It is a nice way to ride IN to the campground, but a horrible task to ride OUT. Nevertheless, I managed to get up the hill well and across the Apalachicola River I went. Roads seemed manageable today, rolling hills, but I am getting used to them. Weather was partly cloudy, but mostly clear and a nice headwind that wasn't too strong, but just cooling. Not bad.
Following US Highway 90 west, I first hit Sneads and the Grand Ridge. Of course, my thoughts went to Mel Brookes Blazing Saddles town of Rock Ridge ("someone go back and get a sh!tload of dimes"). A little past Grand Ridge, where I was supposed to follow County Road 164A, but elected to stay on 90, a dog tore out from the bushes near a house and headed straight for me. I was just thinking that on lesser traveled county roads I could probably have some music on while I pedaled. Music in this case could've cost me precious seconds of reaction time. I heard the bushes parting as he tore through, and no matter what is causing that, I want to get away from it. So I picked up speed. Soon this dog is running at his fullest speed next to the bike and I am making shouting sounds at him that I don't often make. After three of these shrieks at him, and an increased pace he fell back. Phew! After my heart rate slowed, I got back to my peaceful morning ride.
After the dog terror, I found Marianna, the largest of the day with population of 6,230, followed by Cottondale. I ate lunch in Cottondale after having logged 35 miles or so. I ate at Braxton's Oyster Bar & Grill. Their slogan "we can shuck 'em faster than you can eat 'em because you can't eat 'em 'til we shuck 'em". Maybe it was because I wasn't wearing a John Deere cap like the others, but it took a while to get served and makes me doubt any fast shuckin' had I chosen oysters instead of the burger.
I saw another cyclist in Cottondale, but it was through the oyster-shuckin' window of the restaurant, and the cyclist was actually pointed out to me by a John Deere cap wearing customer as if all cyclists knew eachother. They looked to be heading East as everyone has so far. Maybe that means I am keeping good time and no one is passing me going west, or maybe it simply means no one would think of going west this late in the year as the asphalt begins to sizzle.
I rode into the town of Chipley, and found the public library where I have updated the online journals or blogs.
After I left the Chipley library, I climbed back on the bike and headed to Bonifay. Just as the day started with a dog tearing after me, it would end in a similar way. With only 3 more miles to go, a white sheep dog-looking dog came out after me. I let out a tremendous shout at him and he stopped his approach. Either that oir he reached the property line of which he is so protective.
I stayed at the Economy Lodge in Bonifay. Not a great place. Although there was a pool and the water was clear, there was so much junk stacked in the pool area that it was clear no one uses the pool. A rat was also seen walking among the junk stacked there. No pool time for me.
After a shower and doing some laundry in a sink, I walked to the restaurant next door (despite the rat proximity), and got some dinner. After buying a few drinks for tomorrow I hit the sack.
start time: 8:48am Eastern, 7:48am Central
end time: 5:00pm Central
time on bike: 4:18:21
miles: 54.11
avg speed: 12.57 mph
max speed: 35.70 mph
calories: 3918
Crawfordville, FL to Chattahoochee, FL (62 miles)
Sunday, May 4, 2008
I spent a couple days with my Aunt and Uncle in Crawfordville, FL. After meals comprised of steak, hamburgers, biscuits and gravy, etc I was well fed and well rested, and felt strong getting started pedaling toward Chattahoochee today. Before I left Crawfordville, we did a little tour of the area on Saturday. The tour included the town of Sopchoppy. I was sad that I missed the Worm Gruntin' Festival in Sopchoppy. But that doesn't mean you have to...
http://jc-research.com/jim/img-fla/people-events/slides/worm-grunting-folks.html
and
http://www.wakullacounty.org/worm_festival.htm
OK, back to the ride. Hwy 267 was great heading north, then combined with Highway 20 for a bit before parting ways again. Where it ran with Highway 20, I sdtopped in to a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. The plan was to stretch my back on one of the picnic tables next to the station and grab a drink. As I emerged from the station, the police were rolling into ther parking lot. Behind them, a group of 10 or so bicyclists. After talking with one of them, I found out it was a Policeman Memorial bike ride from Panama City to Tallahassee. The riders will then get up to Virginia Beach to ride up to DC and that group is expected to be about 1,000. Impressive. A nice group, and I wish I had a photo, but I don't. Oddly enough though, one female rider recognized me from the restaurant in Monticello. "You broke a chair at Sage in Monticello", she said. I laughed. Who knew I would ever see someone from that restaurant again???
So, on up Highway 267 North. The hills started rolling. This was not a flat part, and one of the police cyclists had told me the views at Chattahoochee are great, but you pay a price to get there by bike. That price was some left Quad pain again.
In Quincy (popln 6,982), I stopped at Walgreens and bought a knee brace. The theory was that compression would keep the knee functional. What happens after the brace is removed? We would see. At Walgreens I talked with Gerald, a young man from Fort Lauderdale who had been with Walgreens for 10 years and moved to Quincy to help his mother who lived in the area. Gerald was a nice fella and interested in the charity angle of the ride. I told Gerald I would mention him in the blog.
After Walgreens I ate at KFC right next door. Not sure that was a smart move since my belly was upset later that night. Maybe biking in 88-degree+ temperatures and greasy chicken (sorry, Colonel) isn't the combination for success. Regardless, it was tasty.
After Quincy, I ran into the town of Gretna (popln 1,709) along County Road 268. I met a trio of donkeys (I think they were donkeys) in a field between Gretna and Quincy. They seemed as curious as most people as to why that white boy was carrying so much stuff on his bicycle and riding on such a warm day. Gretna had some interesting building like this Baptist church, though I made no stops since my bottles were topped up on fluids.
As I came closer to Chattahoochee, the roads were rolling again. Once I finally made it to Chattahoochee, I made a wrong turn, but was advised by a nice man who wished me a safe trip before he drove off in his Buick LeSabre. Knowing tonight was a camping night, I stopped at the grocery store where there almost seemed to be a town meeting going on. A group of customers and checkers were discussing the price of gas, the US borrowing money from other countries, and how they are barely able to get by with the rising price of groceries. I stayed out of the discussion, but I have heard similar versions throughout Florida.
Armed with pasta, spaghetti sauce, and some Powerade (I am tiring of Powerade), my next task was to find the campground. I knew I was close and so decided to turn down a sideroad as the camp was located on the Eastbank of the Seminole River. There I met T.J. and Thomas, two young guys on their bikes just riding around in the shade outside T.J.'s house. I asked about the campground, and T.J. asked "you want me to show you?" Um, sure! So the three of us rode toward the campground and T.J. took my photo at the Georgia state line.
At the campground I met Russell Day, the campground attendent. Russel has worked for thr Army Corps of Engineers for years, having last been stationed at Coffeeville, Alabama with his wife. Russell stated that he left two things in Coffeeville: Highway 84 and his footprints and he doesn't intend to go back for either one. After checking me into a lakefront campsite meant for RVs, he came to check on me, finding my little bike resting against the picnic table while enormous RVs were parked at the sites adjacent to mine. I liked the fact it was so different.
I met others there at the campground: Phil, a Fort Meyers fella who took great interest in the ride, as well as true southerners Herbert & his wife next to my site, and a retired man and his wife from Racine, Wisconsin. Of the three groups, I enjoyed talking to Phil the most as his questions about the bike and the trip helped renew my interest. Whether it is someone's pleasure after asking "where ya going?" as I ride by and my response "San Diego" or Phil's simple answer "No shit?!" followed by a series of questions, these things make me ride faster and stronger, if only temporarily.
start riding: 8:15am
stopped riding: 5:00pm
ride time: 4:52:56
miles: 61.58
calories: 4,742
average speed: 12.61 (max speed 31.75 mph)
elevation: rolling from 280' to 80' and back up again.
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/jackson-alan/chattahoochee-6527.html
I spent a couple days with my Aunt and Uncle in Crawfordville, FL. After meals comprised of steak, hamburgers, biscuits and gravy, etc I was well fed and well rested, and felt strong getting started pedaling toward Chattahoochee today. Before I left Crawfordville, we did a little tour of the area on Saturday. The tour included the town of Sopchoppy. I was sad that I missed the Worm Gruntin' Festival in Sopchoppy. But that doesn't mean you have to...
http://jc-research.com/jim/img-fla/people-events/slides/worm-grunting-folks.html
and
http://www.wakullacounty.org/worm_festival.htm
OK, back to the ride. Hwy 267 was great heading north, then combined with Highway 20 for a bit before parting ways again. Where it ran with Highway 20, I sdtopped in to a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. The plan was to stretch my back on one of the picnic tables next to the station and grab a drink. As I emerged from the station, the police were rolling into ther parking lot. Behind them, a group of 10 or so bicyclists. After talking with one of them, I found out it was a Policeman Memorial bike ride from Panama City to Tallahassee. The riders will then get up to Virginia Beach to ride up to DC and that group is expected to be about 1,000. Impressive. A nice group, and I wish I had a photo, but I don't. Oddly enough though, one female rider recognized me from the restaurant in Monticello. "You broke a chair at Sage in Monticello", she said. I laughed. Who knew I would ever see someone from that restaurant again???
So, on up Highway 267 North. The hills started rolling. This was not a flat part, and one of the police cyclists had told me the views at Chattahoochee are great, but you pay a price to get there by bike. That price was some left Quad pain again.
In Quincy (popln 6,982), I stopped at Walgreens and bought a knee brace. The theory was that compression would keep the knee functional. What happens after the brace is removed? We would see. At Walgreens I talked with Gerald, a young man from Fort Lauderdale who had been with Walgreens for 10 years and moved to Quincy to help his mother who lived in the area. Gerald was a nice fella and interested in the charity angle of the ride. I told Gerald I would mention him in the blog.
After Walgreens I ate at KFC right next door. Not sure that was a smart move since my belly was upset later that night. Maybe biking in 88-degree+ temperatures and greasy chicken (sorry, Colonel) isn't the combination for success. Regardless, it was tasty.
After Quincy, I ran into the town of Gretna (popln 1,709) along County Road 268. I met a trio of donkeys (I think they were donkeys) in a field between Gretna and Quincy. They seemed as curious as most people as to why that white boy was carrying so much stuff on his bicycle and riding on such a warm day. Gretna had some interesting building like this Baptist church, though I made no stops since my bottles were topped up on fluids.
As I came closer to Chattahoochee, the roads were rolling again. Once I finally made it to Chattahoochee, I made a wrong turn, but was advised by a nice man who wished me a safe trip before he drove off in his Buick LeSabre. Knowing tonight was a camping night, I stopped at the grocery store where there almost seemed to be a town meeting going on. A group of customers and checkers were discussing the price of gas, the US borrowing money from other countries, and how they are barely able to get by with the rising price of groceries. I stayed out of the discussion, but I have heard similar versions throughout Florida.
Armed with pasta, spaghetti sauce, and some Powerade (I am tiring of Powerade), my next task was to find the campground. I knew I was close and so decided to turn down a sideroad as the camp was located on the Eastbank of the Seminole River. There I met T.J. and Thomas, two young guys on their bikes just riding around in the shade outside T.J.'s house. I asked about the campground, and T.J. asked "you want me to show you?" Um, sure! So the three of us rode toward the campground and T.J. took my photo at the Georgia state line.
At the campground I met Russell Day, the campground attendent. Russel has worked for thr Army Corps of Engineers for years, having last been stationed at Coffeeville, Alabama with his wife. Russell stated that he left two things in Coffeeville: Highway 84 and his footprints and he doesn't intend to go back for either one. After checking me into a lakefront campsite meant for RVs, he came to check on me, finding my little bike resting against the picnic table while enormous RVs were parked at the sites adjacent to mine. I liked the fact it was so different.
I met others there at the campground: Phil, a Fort Meyers fella who took great interest in the ride, as well as true southerners Herbert & his wife next to my site, and a retired man and his wife from Racine, Wisconsin. Of the three groups, I enjoyed talking to Phil the most as his questions about the bike and the trip helped renew my interest. Whether it is someone's pleasure after asking "where ya going?" as I ride by and my response "San Diego" or Phil's simple answer "No shit?!" followed by a series of questions, these things make me ride faster and stronger, if only temporarily.
start riding: 8:15am
stopped riding: 5:00pm
ride time: 4:52:56
miles: 61.58
calories: 4,742
average speed: 12.61 (max speed 31.75 mph)
elevation: rolling from 280' to 80' and back up again.
http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/jackson-alan/chattahoochee-6527.html
Friday, May 2, 2008
Monticello to Crawfordville, FL (71 miles)
Thursday May 1, 2008
I shared some laughs with the kind owners of the Brahman Inn when I checked out and left the home of the overflowing toilet at 8:15am. The first 11 miles down County Road 259 were hilly. Every day it seems the first few miles are tough, but then it just becomes rhythmic. Stronger each day, I am now turning the third chainring and climbing hills in it. These hills are rolly and it is frustrating to fight for elevation you only give back a few feet fuerther down the road. i consider it training ground, though.
Passing the overpriced KOA near Waukeenah, I headed into a town named Wacissa. The road crew was out trimming the trees along the power lines in preparation for storm season. They had one lane of the 2 lane road closed and the traffic control guys with signs were out. As I approached, the man in the orange vest smirked and turned it from STOP to SLOW. I told him that it was the only way I knew how to travel and he and the other guys laughed.
In Wacissa, I stopped at the gas station/store. Despite the fact the power was out so the road crew could work, I grabbed a couple drinks from the dark cooler and talked with the heavyset guy behind the counter. His interest right away was what I did for a living. When I mentioned working for a technology company in the past, he moved onto stories of technology stocks. Just as the story was ending, he informed me he was closing shop to "make a run out to the dump while he had time". I went down to the post office and got a couple post cards and sent them out from the dark lobby.
Heading out of Wacissa, the fun started. Super flat roads with little to no traffic. County Road 259 and Old Plank Road (County Road 2195) are wooded on both sides and flat, so you can really get moving as long as you can keep your mind occupied for the miles you saw ahead of you. 10 miles outside of Woodville, I pulled over at a bridge so I could rest. 10 minutes passed, but no cars ever did. Most of the traffic I DO see is comprised of County vehicles.
In Woodville (popln 3,006), I found a place to eat lunch called "Debbie's Country Diner". It was located inside a gas station. Having parked the bike outside the front entrance, I could see both booths inside were occupied by people who may be talking about the uncommon sight in front of them, as is common gossip topic in small towns. Having ordered chicken tenders, mashed potatoes & gravy, and lima beans for lunch, I sat down at one of the recently vacated booths. Next to me was an older gentleman who said I could join him. Nice fella. His name was Dick Ranger, retired law enforcement. Silver hair with bushy eyebrows and metal rimmed glasses, he claimed the lima beans Debbie made were a real treat, and it looked from the healthy sagging cheeks on his face, he didn't miss too many of her meals. Dressed in a light blue shirt with white snaps, dark blue pants, with black socks and black shoes like the grocery boys wear, he made conversation with me. First he pointed out the guy filling up with gas out there, how he had a nervous habit of fidgeting with his eyeglasses 10 times. "Nerves, ya know?" he said. "Nerves have ate him up." Soon, his long time friend and hunting buddy, Roger, with white hair revealing a widows peak, silver rimmed glasses atop a large schnoz, came to join us. Roger is the husband of Debbie, the station manager. Both shared rumors about the nervous man outside and his gambling problem. They said he loved the scratch off lottery tickets and would sometimes go to the bank across the street to get money and come over to the station and spend it on tickets, sit in the driver seat of his car, and scratch them off, only to return to the station repeating the process. In bad times, he would drive out, circle the gas pumps, and drive back in choosing another place to park. They say he has a lucky parking place. As they shared these stories they asked me more about me and where I was from, what i was doing, and commenting on the "fancy bike ya got there". Once Dick found out I was heading to San Diego, he told everyone who entered the station. He also told me the route I needed to go from Woodville to Crawfordville, where I would visit my uncle for a couple days. Along the way, he recommended Wakulla Springs State Park, recalling days from his youth how he and Roger and others would sneak in and go swimming in the springs. "Largest and deepest springs in the world", he said. Parting the station, Roger continued to tell arriving customers of my eventual destination and said so boastfully, with pride and some ownership of this goal himself somehow. As I rode down St. Marks trail, an old railroad turned bike trail, Roger drove by waving as he went home. Very nice people! Lucky I met them!
Following my GPS directions, I went by the Wakulla Springs State Park and verified it is indeed the largest and deepest spring in the world. With crystal clear 70-degree water, it is beautiful, though I resisted successfully from jumping off the 2-story diving platform there. A few short conversations with people there, and I was off again. Follwoing some haywiore directions provided by the GPS, I made it to my Uncle Tom's place at 5:45pm and 71 miles from where I started that day. Fed well as a reward, I went to bed thinking about how kind those two fellas were in Woodville.
started riding: 8:15am
ended riding: 5:45pm
time biking: 5:29:41
miles: 70.6
average speed: 12.85
calories: 5,353
I shared some laughs with the kind owners of the Brahman Inn when I checked out and left the home of the overflowing toilet at 8:15am. The first 11 miles down County Road 259 were hilly. Every day it seems the first few miles are tough, but then it just becomes rhythmic. Stronger each day, I am now turning the third chainring and climbing hills in it. These hills are rolly and it is frustrating to fight for elevation you only give back a few feet fuerther down the road. i consider it training ground, though.
Passing the overpriced KOA near Waukeenah, I headed into a town named Wacissa. The road crew was out trimming the trees along the power lines in preparation for storm season. They had one lane of the 2 lane road closed and the traffic control guys with signs were out. As I approached, the man in the orange vest smirked and turned it from STOP to SLOW. I told him that it was the only way I knew how to travel and he and the other guys laughed.
In Wacissa, I stopped at the gas station/store. Despite the fact the power was out so the road crew could work, I grabbed a couple drinks from the dark cooler and talked with the heavyset guy behind the counter. His interest right away was what I did for a living. When I mentioned working for a technology company in the past, he moved onto stories of technology stocks. Just as the story was ending, he informed me he was closing shop to "make a run out to the dump while he had time". I went down to the post office and got a couple post cards and sent them out from the dark lobby.
Heading out of Wacissa, the fun started. Super flat roads with little to no traffic. County Road 259 and Old Plank Road (County Road 2195) are wooded on both sides and flat, so you can really get moving as long as you can keep your mind occupied for the miles you saw ahead of you. 10 miles outside of Woodville, I pulled over at a bridge so I could rest. 10 minutes passed, but no cars ever did. Most of the traffic I DO see is comprised of County vehicles.
In Woodville (popln 3,006), I found a place to eat lunch called "Debbie's Country Diner". It was located inside a gas station. Having parked the bike outside the front entrance, I could see both booths inside were occupied by people who may be talking about the uncommon sight in front of them, as is common gossip topic in small towns. Having ordered chicken tenders, mashed potatoes & gravy, and lima beans for lunch, I sat down at one of the recently vacated booths. Next to me was an older gentleman who said I could join him. Nice fella. His name was Dick Ranger, retired law enforcement. Silver hair with bushy eyebrows and metal rimmed glasses, he claimed the lima beans Debbie made were a real treat, and it looked from the healthy sagging cheeks on his face, he didn't miss too many of her meals. Dressed in a light blue shirt with white snaps, dark blue pants, with black socks and black shoes like the grocery boys wear, he made conversation with me. First he pointed out the guy filling up with gas out there, how he had a nervous habit of fidgeting with his eyeglasses 10 times. "Nerves, ya know?" he said. "Nerves have ate him up." Soon, his long time friend and hunting buddy, Roger, with white hair revealing a widows peak, silver rimmed glasses atop a large schnoz, came to join us. Roger is the husband of Debbie, the station manager. Both shared rumors about the nervous man outside and his gambling problem. They said he loved the scratch off lottery tickets and would sometimes go to the bank across the street to get money and come over to the station and spend it on tickets, sit in the driver seat of his car, and scratch them off, only to return to the station repeating the process. In bad times, he would drive out, circle the gas pumps, and drive back in choosing another place to park. They say he has a lucky parking place. As they shared these stories they asked me more about me and where I was from, what i was doing, and commenting on the "fancy bike ya got there". Once Dick found out I was heading to San Diego, he told everyone who entered the station. He also told me the route I needed to go from Woodville to Crawfordville, where I would visit my uncle for a couple days. Along the way, he recommended Wakulla Springs State Park, recalling days from his youth how he and Roger and others would sneak in and go swimming in the springs. "Largest and deepest springs in the world", he said. Parting the station, Roger continued to tell arriving customers of my eventual destination and said so boastfully, with pride and some ownership of this goal himself somehow. As I rode down St. Marks trail, an old railroad turned bike trail, Roger drove by waving as he went home. Very nice people! Lucky I met them!
Following my GPS directions, I went by the Wakulla Springs State Park and verified it is indeed the largest and deepest spring in the world. With crystal clear 70-degree water, it is beautiful, though I resisted successfully from jumping off the 2-story diving platform there. A few short conversations with people there, and I was off again. Follwoing some haywiore directions provided by the GPS, I made it to my Uncle Tom's place at 5:45pm and 71 miles from where I started that day. Fed well as a reward, I went to bed thinking about how kind those two fellas were in Woodville.
started riding: 8:15am
ended riding: 5:45pm
time biking: 5:29:41
miles: 70.6
average speed: 12.85
calories: 5,353
Suwanee River State Park to Monticello, FL (50 miles)
Wednesday April 30, 2008
It was sooooo cold last night in a tent and sleeping bag at the Suwanee River State Park. I heard it got down to 40 or so. I think maybe a little cooler. As the night continued, I found my way deeper inside my sleeping bag and the zipper closed a little more each time, until i didn't want to pop my head out of the tent in the morning.
I am not a quick mover in the morning. 5:45am the alarm goes off and by 6:15am I am cautiously out of the tent. After breaking down camp, making breakfast and cleaning up, and then strategically placing all the goods back into my bike bags it is already 8:15am before I head off.
First, I followed Hwy 90 out of the park and into a small town of Lee (popln 352). Drawn in by the sign at the General Lee store that stated "Fresh Copenhagen", I stopped to get some drinks and eyeball those there for the freshest Copenhagen around. Not finding the friendliest folk at the store, I moved on quickly. Next stop was Greenville. It's up to you if you pronounce the "i" or not. Just out side Greenvlle, I met another long distance bicycle tourist named John. He was from Denver and started in San Diego heading to Jacksonville. His advice: "it all becomes a daily regimen. Repeat your daily habits day by day, and you will make it in no time."
He was traveling a little differently. he puts in about 75 miles and stays in motels. I put in around 50 miles a day and camp as much as I can. Tomato, tomahto.
In Greenville (popln 837) I found the only place to eat lunch was a red & white gas station that cooked meals. I got the 2-piece chicken dinner with mac&cheese, yams, and cornbread for $4.99. I took it over to the Haffye Hays Park across the street to eat in the shade at the picnic tables I had seen from the road when passing. As I was eating, a girl who I saw walking down the road came over and sat at another picnic table while smoking a cigarette, a prerequisite for residency status it seems. In her red sleeveless t-shirt and baggy light blue shorts, she lounged and with each drag of the smoke she described Greenville a little bit more. "It's not like Perry, she said. it is a more laid back town. I just moved here from Perry." Keep in mind, Perry is so close to Greenville, I could probably push my bike from Greenville to Perry and have half a day left over. She laughed when I asked how big Greenville was. In her Malorie-drawl-like way (of Mickey and Malorie from the movie Natural Born Killers) she responded "small, it's just small". She disappeared while I was eating, but later I saw her spending away the minutes by doing the Tony Little-like Gazelle exercise at a machine located down by the man made lake.
The ride from Greenville to Monticello along Hwy 90 wasn't bad. As I rode along, I saw a tractor on the road way up in the distance. Pedalling a little harder, a little faster, I was catching up to him. It wasn't long before I knew I could get up next to him. I just read a book by Dave Shields called "The Race" where the main character started out racing a tractor to a nearby town. The driver looked surprised to see me, smiled, and was laughing a bit. Adios, Farmall. I blew him away carrying 90 pounds with me. I knew my legs were gettings tronger each day.
The Quad hurt and needed rest, but it looked like it might get it sooner than expected. The KOA campground located past Monticello wanted $20 for a primitive campsite (you get a chunk of real estate and access to bathrooms and water, but no electricity), while the Brahman Inn motel in Monticello only wanted $37 for a room and the library there provided internet for blog updates. For the $17 difference, I had the ability to charge my phone, GPS, etc and grab food locally. I found the public library, did the previous 2 blog entries based on my journal, and then went to the motel. After checking in and showering, I went to grab dinner at a local restaurant "Sage" just down the road. Encountering two "wild basset hounds" who howled and howled at me before wandering back off the road and into the woods, I carried on. Dogs are my fear on this ride as I have seen plenty of them already. So at Sage....I swear I am not gaining weight on this trip, but after eating, the chair I was sitting in just flat out broke and left me sitting on the patio floor with others looking my direction. Stating "that meal was filling!" I got up and laughed it off, and ordered a piece of the German chocolate cake I saw perched near the cash register inside when I entered.
Leaving the people back there a story to tell at work tomorrow, I walked back to the motel and found two other long distance bicycle tourists were in the room next to mine, waiting for me as they were told I was at the motel when they checked in. I turned down the Bud though Nick and Carolyn were kind enough to offer. I didn't need to be bribed to talk and hang out. I was just as interested in their stories as they might've been in mine. Nick and Carolyne sold their house north of Seattle, grabbed their bikes and a train to San Fran, biked from San Fran to San Diego, and then turned left and went from San Diego to Monticello with plans to finish at St. Augustine, where I started. We exchanged tips as to where to stay and what to see. I think Vernus from the Ichetucknee Springs Campground may have them as guests and sell a t-shirt.
They snapped a couple photos of us just hanging out right outside the rooms, and I hope they send me one. After I went to my room, it was around 10:30pm when I heard the toilet making noises and yep, a well-known cheap motel risk, the toilet was overflowing. Notifying the Indian manager named "Sam" he told me he was plunging in the room right on the other side of mine and he is sorry he caused it to happen. No harm. I got my stuff together and moved to another room. Wild basset hounds, a broken chair, and an overflowing toilet. Goodnight, Monticello.
started riding: 8:15am
ended riding: 5:15pm
time biking: 3:11:48 (this time is off, GPS froze up)
miles: 41.28 recorded before GPS freeze (estimate 50)
average speed: 12.91 mph
calories: 3,125 (before GPS freeze)
It was sooooo cold last night in a tent and sleeping bag at the Suwanee River State Park. I heard it got down to 40 or so. I think maybe a little cooler. As the night continued, I found my way deeper inside my sleeping bag and the zipper closed a little more each time, until i didn't want to pop my head out of the tent in the morning.
I am not a quick mover in the morning. 5:45am the alarm goes off and by 6:15am I am cautiously out of the tent. After breaking down camp, making breakfast and cleaning up, and then strategically placing all the goods back into my bike bags it is already 8:15am before I head off.
First, I followed Hwy 90 out of the park and into a small town of Lee (popln 352). Drawn in by the sign at the General Lee store that stated "Fresh Copenhagen", I stopped to get some drinks and eyeball those there for the freshest Copenhagen around. Not finding the friendliest folk at the store, I moved on quickly. Next stop was Greenville. It's up to you if you pronounce the "i" or not. Just out side Greenvlle, I met another long distance bicycle tourist named John. He was from Denver and started in San Diego heading to Jacksonville. His advice: "it all becomes a daily regimen. Repeat your daily habits day by day, and you will make it in no time."
He was traveling a little differently. he puts in about 75 miles and stays in motels. I put in around 50 miles a day and camp as much as I can. Tomato, tomahto.
In Greenville (popln 837) I found the only place to eat lunch was a red & white gas station that cooked meals. I got the 2-piece chicken dinner with mac&cheese, yams, and cornbread for $4.99. I took it over to the Haffye Hays Park across the street to eat in the shade at the picnic tables I had seen from the road when passing. As I was eating, a girl who I saw walking down the road came over and sat at another picnic table while smoking a cigarette, a prerequisite for residency status it seems. In her red sleeveless t-shirt and baggy light blue shorts, she lounged and with each drag of the smoke she described Greenville a little bit more. "It's not like Perry, she said. it is a more laid back town. I just moved here from Perry." Keep in mind, Perry is so close to Greenville, I could probably push my bike from Greenville to Perry and have half a day left over. She laughed when I asked how big Greenville was. In her Malorie-drawl-like way (of Mickey and Malorie from the movie Natural Born Killers) she responded "small, it's just small". She disappeared while I was eating, but later I saw her spending away the minutes by doing the Tony Little-like Gazelle exercise at a machine located down by the man made lake.
The ride from Greenville to Monticello along Hwy 90 wasn't bad. As I rode along, I saw a tractor on the road way up in the distance. Pedalling a little harder, a little faster, I was catching up to him. It wasn't long before I knew I could get up next to him. I just read a book by Dave Shields called "The Race" where the main character started out racing a tractor to a nearby town. The driver looked surprised to see me, smiled, and was laughing a bit. Adios, Farmall. I blew him away carrying 90 pounds with me. I knew my legs were gettings tronger each day.
The Quad hurt and needed rest, but it looked like it might get it sooner than expected. The KOA campground located past Monticello wanted $20 for a primitive campsite (you get a chunk of real estate and access to bathrooms and water, but no electricity), while the Brahman Inn motel in Monticello only wanted $37 for a room and the library there provided internet for blog updates. For the $17 difference, I had the ability to charge my phone, GPS, etc and grab food locally. I found the public library, did the previous 2 blog entries based on my journal, and then went to the motel. After checking in and showering, I went to grab dinner at a local restaurant "Sage" just down the road. Encountering two "wild basset hounds" who howled and howled at me before wandering back off the road and into the woods, I carried on. Dogs are my fear on this ride as I have seen plenty of them already. So at Sage....I swear I am not gaining weight on this trip, but after eating, the chair I was sitting in just flat out broke and left me sitting on the patio floor with others looking my direction. Stating "that meal was filling!" I got up and laughed it off, and ordered a piece of the German chocolate cake I saw perched near the cash register inside when I entered.
Leaving the people back there a story to tell at work tomorrow, I walked back to the motel and found two other long distance bicycle tourists were in the room next to mine, waiting for me as they were told I was at the motel when they checked in. I turned down the Bud though Nick and Carolyn were kind enough to offer. I didn't need to be bribed to talk and hang out. I was just as interested in their stories as they might've been in mine. Nick and Carolyne sold their house north of Seattle, grabbed their bikes and a train to San Fran, biked from San Fran to San Diego, and then turned left and went from San Diego to Monticello with plans to finish at St. Augustine, where I started. We exchanged tips as to where to stay and what to see. I think Vernus from the Ichetucknee Springs Campground may have them as guests and sell a t-shirt.
They snapped a couple photos of us just hanging out right outside the rooms, and I hope they send me one. After I went to my room, it was around 10:30pm when I heard the toilet making noises and yep, a well-known cheap motel risk, the toilet was overflowing. Notifying the Indian manager named "Sam" he told me he was plunging in the room right on the other side of mine and he is sorry he caused it to happen. No harm. I got my stuff together and moved to another room. Wild basset hounds, a broken chair, and an overflowing toilet. Goodnight, Monticello.
started riding: 8:15am
ended riding: 5:15pm
time biking: 3:11:48 (this time is off, GPS froze up)
miles: 41.28 recorded before GPS freeze (estimate 50)
average speed: 12.91 mph
calories: 3,125 (before GPS freeze)
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Ichetucknee Springs to Suwanee River State Park (54 miles)
Tuesday April 29, 2008
Vernus (the camprground owner) and I had some time to talk before I left. I was warming some oatmeal in the microwave while Vernus was petting Tiger, the cat that was just a kitten when Vernus took over 10 years ago. Vernus is originally from Misourri and had served 3 years in Vietnam. We talked about how I grew up, how he grew up, how his 15 & 17 year old kids are growing up, etc. He told me how the times are bad for America right now given the economy, the price of gas, etc. And that trips to his campground are considered to be things that people can do without during tough times. Showing me a calendar, the reservation numbers were a fraction of what they were last year, and due to an error, Vernus was soon to receive $6,000 worth of t-shirts he was not sure who he would sell them to.
Need a novelty present for someone in your life? Email Vernus and buy a t-shirt.
http://www.ichetuckneecanoeandcabins.net/
Tell him Dan the cyclist sent you.
Today's ride was filled with clear skies but cool weather. I got started riding at 8am, and wore arm warmers all day as the headwinds I faced the entire distance to Suwanee River State Park were a bit chilling.
After about 30 miles, I felt a pull in my left Quadricep. I capitalize Quadricep to give it some new respect that I may have not given it before. I am not sure if it is a pull or just sore from the use of it these first 200 miles, but I am tending to it with Ibuprofen, additional stretching, and an occassional muscle relaxant.
Fortunately for me County Road 136A, the road I was on, was relatively flat so I could do pretty well with one leg if need be. From time to time, I will pull over into the two-track trail left by the mailman as he swerves over to the shoulder to a mailbox, and rest my bike against an unknown friend's mailbox as I stretch it further.
After a quick lunch at a nearby campground restaurant (where I think only employees of the campground typically eat, yet it is the only restaurant around), I found my way on County Road 132 toward Suwanee River State Park (yes, as in Way Down Upon The Swanee River, the name was intentionally misspelled for the song so people wouldn't try to pronouce the U). 132 unfortunately was full of hills as the waitress had warned me. With a few breaks, I made it though my Quad was not real happy. I had to be there near 3pm as a reporter from the Suwanee (yes, use a U this time) Democrat newspaper was there to interview me. The interview went well and I enjoyed talking with Vanessa, who lives in Madison, Florida, the halfway point in my journey across Florida which I will pass tomorrow.
After a quick photo shoot, I set up camp at site #29, where two long distance cyclists from Wisconsin had occupied the night before on there way back from San Diego. Too crazy!
I made a little dinner (Beef Stroganoff with Noodles) thanks to Mountain House meals I purchased at REI, and then did a little hike to see the Suwanee River.
In bed by 9pm with my IcyHot friend (really the tube of IcyHot), I hope to wake with a fixed Quadricep.
started riding: 7:58am
ended riding: 3:00pm
time biking: 4:45:04
miles: 54.10 miles
average speed: 11.39
calories: 3,800
Vernus (the camprground owner) and I had some time to talk before I left. I was warming some oatmeal in the microwave while Vernus was petting Tiger, the cat that was just a kitten when Vernus took over 10 years ago. Vernus is originally from Misourri and had served 3 years in Vietnam. We talked about how I grew up, how he grew up, how his 15 & 17 year old kids are growing up, etc. He told me how the times are bad for America right now given the economy, the price of gas, etc. And that trips to his campground are considered to be things that people can do without during tough times. Showing me a calendar, the reservation numbers were a fraction of what they were last year, and due to an error, Vernus was soon to receive $6,000 worth of t-shirts he was not sure who he would sell them to.
Need a novelty present for someone in your life? Email Vernus and buy a t-shirt.
http://www.ichetuckneecanoeandcabins.net/
Tell him Dan the cyclist sent you.
Today's ride was filled with clear skies but cool weather. I got started riding at 8am, and wore arm warmers all day as the headwinds I faced the entire distance to Suwanee River State Park were a bit chilling.
After about 30 miles, I felt a pull in my left Quadricep. I capitalize Quadricep to give it some new respect that I may have not given it before. I am not sure if it is a pull or just sore from the use of it these first 200 miles, but I am tending to it with Ibuprofen, additional stretching, and an occassional muscle relaxant.
Fortunately for me County Road 136A, the road I was on, was relatively flat so I could do pretty well with one leg if need be. From time to time, I will pull over into the two-track trail left by the mailman as he swerves over to the shoulder to a mailbox, and rest my bike against an unknown friend's mailbox as I stretch it further.
After a quick lunch at a nearby campground restaurant (where I think only employees of the campground typically eat, yet it is the only restaurant around), I found my way on County Road 132 toward Suwanee River State Park (yes, as in Way Down Upon The Swanee River, the name was intentionally misspelled for the song so people wouldn't try to pronouce the U). 132 unfortunately was full of hills as the waitress had warned me. With a few breaks, I made it though my Quad was not real happy. I had to be there near 3pm as a reporter from the Suwanee (yes, use a U this time) Democrat newspaper was there to interview me. The interview went well and I enjoyed talking with Vanessa, who lives in Madison, Florida, the halfway point in my journey across Florida which I will pass tomorrow.
After a quick photo shoot, I set up camp at site #29, where two long distance cyclists from Wisconsin had occupied the night before on there way back from San Diego. Too crazy!
I made a little dinner (Beef Stroganoff with Noodles) thanks to Mountain House meals I purchased at REI, and then did a little hike to see the Suwanee River.
In bed by 9pm with my IcyHot friend (really the tube of IcyHot), I hope to wake with a fixed Quadricep.
started riding: 7:58am
ended riding: 3:00pm
time biking: 4:45:04
miles: 54.10 miles
average speed: 11.39
calories: 3,800
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