Floridia

despite being months behind in other happenings, the Tour de Florida has been playing on my mind a little. here's the last few scraps.  next up, Panama! 10 Things: 1. A journey of 1000 miles really does start with that first step/stroke/revolution, although there are easier ways to prove it. 2. Americans, at least the ones that I met, were genuinely nice, courteous, friendly, fat and incredulous that someone would want to make such a journey. They also showed due respect to my two wheels, and, with the exception of two separate ladies driving Escalades, never even came close to running me off the road. Even when there wasn't much of it. 3. Bike Fit! Don’t be tortured by various niggling elements brought about by second guessing the many parameters that need to be figured out in order to cycle pain free. Do your knees/back/arse a favour: pony up and get someone to measure it out. 4. Multiples: these mean what they say. Ten miles is a long way, one hundred is a hell of a lot further. No amount of dividing, adding and subtracting what it says on the computer is going to make you get there any faster. Especially if it's windy. 5. I just assumed my brain would work loads of things out as i rode -- characters, plot, the meaning of life. It didn't. Mostly it was just sweating punctuated with the odd bit of groaning. 6. It is only just possible to live for two and a half weeks on American Roadfood. Much longer than that, and parts of your body will start to fall off.  Associated with this is my index of Evil Substances:  Gatorade -7, Redbull -8, 5-hour energy - off the Richter. drink at your peril. 7. Key West is multi-layered and expensive. If you want to get past the typical drunken Duval-street stumbling-and-Hemmingway experience, you will have to apply yourself to…

Wednesday, 16 March 2011 Two Lessons: Avon Park – 12:23 Always trust the GPS (Although you should aggressively resist this advice if you find yourself being directed over the edge of a cliff). In my experience on this trip, the machine just seems to have a nose for the better roads -- which is good, since my usual routine involves scratching my head for a while at the crossroads, then unerringly opting for the traffic-clogged straightaway. Current theories (what else am I supposed to think about for all those revolutions?) is that the software grades the busyness of each road, or it’s following the shortest non-highway distance between two points, or i'm just a bit of a doughnut when it comes to route selection. All three could fly. Case in point, the SH64 pretty much wins the derby for the ideal Floridian cycling road (and i would have completely missed it if i had listened to GoogleMaps, which told me to continue north on the reliable but somewhat staid 17). By contrast, the SH64 has been showing off its gentle topography like a giddy pubescent, rolling through gentle farmland with cows that calmly mark your passing with a quizzical look and a few more chews on the proverbial. There is an almost total absence of cars, and the tractors make you feel genuinely quick for a change. The houses, where there are any, are set well back from the road among orchards, fragrant fields, rusting cars and peeling For Sale signs. It seems like quite a pleasant place to spend a few hours, though of course, that may have something to do with the fact that it will only be a few hours. Also, bizarrely, at times this morning it has felt as though I have been slyly wetting myself. This is possibly because I started fiddling with my seat position again in Arcadia and now I seem to have hoisted it…

A Man and his Laptop Before resuming the nearly stone-cold thread of this subtropical cycling epic, let's have a quick round of applause for my humble macbook, only just back from death's door after having weathered many thousands of miles over at best, asphalt, and at worst, plain old ass. but it is back, and collectively we are in business. it required a two week trans-american journey to some miracle worker on the west coast who possessed the last of the weapons grade logic boards. Miraculously he was convinced to part with one of them for the modest sum of $300. But, as i say, what's $300 between a man and his laptop? so please forgive the interlude. I hope this makes it a little more comprehensible to the one or two of you left out there reading this thing. And so, we resume. Arcadia - March 12th, 21:20 Just got in to Arcadia, after a brutal 70 mile pull straight into the wind. many things hurt. I have found a cheap ass hotel run by a Gujurati family. it's the usual trade off: shabby, breeze blocked, some atrocious design decisions, really poor finishing - but cheap. $30 per night. The town itself is a total throwback. Some super-outlets and fastfood restaurants at the intersection of two highways are the main concession to the current planning craze in Florida. But there is a charming old Main Street (completely abandoned at all hours of the day) and a smattering of older style bungalows which are slowly falling into disrepair as the town creeps closer to the WalMart . I’ve heard rumours of a Rodeo somewhere to the west. After a day that hurt more than it probably should have done, I've been totally foxed for a decent place to have a beer. Had to resort to buying a six-pack of Yeungling from the grocery store - this one’s rather charmingly called…

Much the same way that ending a rain of hammer blows to the head can feel like pleasure, one of the best things about sleeping rough is that you have a renewed appreciation for all those things you took for granted.  First among these:  hot shower, clean sheets, chairs not fixed to the floor. After two nights slung between trees, I was ready for a bit of comfort, and, on my last ninety miles through the Everglades, it was incredibly cheering to think that my next stop would put me in the company of family. That my brother Jeff was in Florida with his family was a coincidence that we just couldn't pass up. Hence the somewhat migratory pattern across southern Florida, taking me to a lovely corner of Bonita Springs, just north of Naples. When I got there, it was a joy to see my brother, his wife, and my niece and nephew, who I hadn't clapped eyes on for almost two years. Unfortunately, i was slightly too fragrant to trade anything more than handshakes at first, and was given a beer and promptly ushered inside for a wash. What followed were a brilliant few days hanging out with the kids, stoking up the sauna, chasing tennis balls and eating food that didn't come out of a cellophane wrapper.  Brilliant. Taylor and Calvin: a sight for sore eyes Buddy takes one for the team and squeezes into the back Unlike my crew, these are good eaters, all iPoke: irresistible to little fingers   The Ballad of George's Meatball after carrying them 800 miles, i was not going to miss a chance to wear my 'finest'. this turned out to be my only opportunity.

Tamiami Corner – HWY 41 – 4:30pm 08/03/2011 I really wish I hadn’t asked Eddie, the guy at the Subway, if he knew anything about Highway 41 going west through the Everglades. “Gators,” was his first word “People tend to carry a stick so that you can push ‘em out of the way.” After much deliberation about where to spend tonight, having discussed several options with various bikers and truckers, called around local hotels called things like the Micosukee Resort  I finally decided to try and make a go of crossing the Everglades, with a likely bivouac when it started to get dark.. Last night’s bivouac in Key Largo had been unplanned. I took a sneaky whiff of the local atmospheres and instantly regretted it. I was hoping that Eddie's words would confirm my suspicions about advice you got in Florida. The more confident and knowing the tone,  the more likely it was to be a complete pile of fiction. I was in my current predicament for exactly this reason: “Do you think I’ll find many hotels up around Tamiami Corner?” Mexican Chef guy: “Oh yes. Many hotels. Very cheap.” I somehow doubted that by 'many' he meant the Miccosukee Gaming Resort, and by 'cheap' he meant $175 per night. And here was Eddie wanting to know what else to put on my sandwich. “Ummm…Lettuce, please. And some olives. Now, when you say alligators….” “Oh and pythons too. And don’t wear any scent. No cologne or nothing. The insects will eat you alive. Anything else on the sandwhich?” “Emm….nope. That’s it.” I had a brief picture of what it might mean to be the middle bit in an Everglade sandwich; strung up in my hammock, fighting off pythons from above and alligators from below. “Thanks Eddy.” I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach and reminded myself to steal some toilet paper from the bathroom. The Everglades – At…

Day 5 - homestead => key west For the record, one spare tube and six patches are not enough to preserve your dignity if you're trying to cover 120 miles on 'vintage' tyres. It took three roadside surgeries where I tried patching two different tubes every which way, in the hopes of getting to the bike shop on Marathon Key. Knowing that the patches were shite i had to use two of them to cover three holes (how the fuck do you get three holes at once anyway?). So I was literally praying out loud as I rolled off the bridge onto Grassy Key, the last one before Marathon. Sadly, my luck was not in, and i felt the familiar bump of rim on tarmac just as i pulled up outside of the Dolphin Research Center. It's very possible that the language which escaped me at that point was not entirely appropriate for the young visitors who were queueing up to pet Flipper. However, whoever is responsible for putting nice people in your way came up trumps, because the two ladies in the Dolphin Research centre called me a cab and found me a bike shop that stocked the requisite 23 x 700c’s. I was picked up within minutes by a sizeable Cuban Lady with a bike rack on her taxi. She told me she had been living in the Keys for 27 years and the furthest afield she’s been in that time was Orlando. Keys living looks like it could be habit forming. Otherwise, it was quite the slog. Don't know how i would have fared over the last 40 miles to Key West if the wind hadn't been behind me. As it stood, I was verging on delirious from arse pain and energy drinks by the time i got there. And the three beers i drank in quick succession did little to help matters....although they did help to…