Atlantic Ocean
A little over a year ago, perhaps two, our son Ben told Kim he heard about this Coast to Coast bike trail across the peninsula of Florida, from the Atlantic to the Gulf. He wanted to know if Kim was interesting in riding it with him. It would be a 4 day trip and a total of 250 miles. With just a hint of hesitation Kim thought, why not? Why not? Maybe because you’re 67! I wasn’t even sure Ben could do it! He’s a a pilot. By definition his job requires a lot sitting. It’s not like he’s a UPS driver! But sure, why not?
The planning stage seemed to go on forever. There was always something…the time of year needed to be right so that it wouldn’t be too hot, and equipment was needed. Kim didn’t even have the proper bike, which begged the question, just what was the proper bike? He had a beach cruiser. No gears! That would never do, but should he go mountain bike for the swamp, or road bike for the paved trail? All good questions that took longer to answer than seemed necessary. And then there was the training. You just couldn’t go off on a 250 bike ride with no training…or could you? Kim said “No”, Ben said “Maybe”. Like everything, the road to aches and pain starts with good intentions. The training would be sporadic, dropping off to non-existent, and then ramping up to panic mode! Okay, that was panic mode for Kim and, “I’m just going to wing it”, which was Ben’s philosophy. Not my problem. I was the road crew.
The road crew for this trip was pretty low key since they weren’t going to be riding a road. They would encounter one from time to time, but mostly they would be out of sight, though not out of touch. How to get to them in an emergency….well, that was a question that would remain mostly unanswered throughout the trip. Mainly my duties were to carry extra water, Gatorade, protein drinks, snacks, ibuprofen, and the luggage. They weren’t camping, so I would go ahead to the rendezvous hotels, haul the luggage up to the room, where I would make everything as comfortable as possible and search out a good place to eat dinner when they arrived. In the morning I would load up their bikes with fresh supplies, see them off, pack up the room, and haul the luggage to the car, setting off to the next destination. Easy peasy on my part, but what to do with myself for the 8 to 9 hours when they were on their bikes and I was alone? Hmmm?
Finally Ben picked a date. The first week in March. Heartbeats quickened! This was actually happening, ready or not! The first thing that went wrong happened before we even left the house! Ben had made a slight calculation error regarding how many miles they needed to ride a day. The end of each day had to be calculated based on not only where the trail neared the hotel, but they also had to exit a swamp, and clear the wilderness areas along the way. Those things didn’t always line up easily. The mileage and the timeframe weren’t adding up! Two of those days were going to be pushing over 60 and would likely top out at 80 miles! Are you kidding? It’s not like these guys were serious bike riders! They weren’t even gym rats! I raised my eyebrows thinking that might be a bit ambitious. They would cross that bridge when they came to it, but I was pretty sure it would be a bridge too far.
Thursday was “Go Day”. We loaded the bikes on the back of the car at Ben’s house and began the hour drive north to Cape Canaveral Seashore and the Atlantic Ocean. The wind was blustery, and all three of us lifted our eyes to the palm trees that were noticeably swaying. The weather app wasn’t promising. No rain, but the wind would be an issue. I drove across the causeway over the Indian River in Titusville on our way to the beach. I noticed how high it was, but said nothing, wondering if they noticed it too. They would be riding back the same way, and the climb would be brutal. Add in the wind and it changed from brutal to wicked! I felt bad for them and tried not to think about it. Eastward we drove till at last we reached the beach. The wind grabbed my door as I was getting out of the car. It was freezing! Okay, it was 62 degrees, but by Florida standards, that was the equivalent of freezing. I pulled on my sweater and zipped up my polar fleece.
Ben and Kim checked and double checked their bikes and gear. We exchanged some humorous banter in order to diffuse some of the nerves. I verified where I was to meet them, and just like that they were off! Once they turned the corner they were into a 17 mph headwind, with 26 mph gusts. 50 miles would be a miracle in those conditions, especially the first day out. It would be a tough day, and I worried about them. Beyond that there was little I could do, except pray they’d be okay. I passed them and waved on my way out in search of the Black Point Wildlife Drive, nestled within the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge. My own adventure for the day. It’s a 17 mile, one way loop road into marshland noted for its bird life, as it lies within the Atlantic Flyway. I had never been there and I was excited to see it.
It was weird being on my own. I love exploring this state, but I don’t often do it alone. Okay, often translates to never. Now I’m in the middle of pretty much nowhere alone. Oh sure, there were a few other cars out here making the same trek, but I was alone in my own space and my own head. I glimpsed a few flamingoes on the wing, and several lone herons patiently hunting in the shallow water, but because of the wind and the cold even the wildlife took shelter in the reeds of the marsh. There are two walking trails. I chose the shorter one on which to take a stroll with my binoculars. There were a few other people on the trail. A daring choice for any of us. The wind was howling making it uncomfortably cold, and everyone seemed to be pulling their necks down into their jackets much like turtles. I reached the first bird blind, but found nothing in site, even with my binoculars. Returning to the trail I headed for the second blind. I glanced around and suddenly found myself alone. Where had everybody gone? Probably escaped to their cars to get out of the wind. I continued on for a few more yards and then stopped. Was I being foolish? I had walked past several alligator slides. Indicators of where alligators had crossed the trail and entered the water on the other side. If I encountered one out here all alone, up close and personal, who would know? I did an about face and headed back to the car!
Back on the main road I set my GPS for the location Ben had given me for the night. Now to trust it, because I really had no idea where I was going. Just the name of a town I have never been to and the hotel where I was to meet them. GPS had me turn down one backcountry road after another, and because I was alone I was able to ask it aloud, “Do you have any idea where we are going?” Another turn onto a two lane roadway and I had to ask, “Really?!?” But, rather unexpectedly we got there. We? Now I’m referring to my GPS as if it were my companion! Oh dear!
I got the room set up, took a short nap, and then waited for Kim and Ben to arrive. I could track their progress through Ben’s GPS app. Technology can be both a blessing and a curse. Right now, though, it was a blessing. I had gotten a few texts and pictures throughout the day. One disturbing one where they were laying on the ground just off the trail. Kim said they had no choice but to dismount and give their legs a break. Their quadriceps had seized up and refused to make one more rotation. The headwind was proving to be a vicious and skilled adversary. The question remained, could they persevere, and would they? It grew late in the day and they had several miles to go. I began to worry about them making it in before dark. Just before 5:00 they were within a mile. I knew they would be digging deep to finish and it wasn’t long before I saw them ride into the parking lot, looking a lot like something the cat dragged in. 50 miles behind them. Only 200 miles to go! After dinner they sat in the hotel hot tub trying to loosen sore muscles. It would be the last hot tub relief for the trip, as no other hotel had one. The bathtub would have to be the refuge their legs were seeking from now on. Before turning out the lights for the night I asked if they thought they could do it all again tomorrow. The answer for both of them was the same. “I don’t know.”
In the morning they both complained that their legs were so sore. They chuckled when I asked if they were going to be able to get on their bikes, but I received no real answer. After breakfast I loaded them up again with water and snacks. They checked their air pressure. I took a picture, and with a few groans they were on their way again.
The wind wasn’t nearly as bad this day, but they had now entered the “hill country”. I know most of you reading this believe Florida is a flat pancake state, which is true from about midway down the peninsula to the south, but here in the midland north of Orlando you surprisingly encounter rolling hills. In that way they were trading one challenge for another. They disappeared from sight, picking up the trail, and were on their way to conquer another 50 miles or so.
I had no real plans for the day and took my time packing up and loading the car. I would make a stop in Winter Garden for lunch and a nice walk around town. I had heard the downtown area was cute. Sounded like a good place for me to look for something to bring back for the grandkids. It didn’t disappoint. There’s a big Amish influence in this area of Florida. Amish jams and old fashioned wooden toys would be added to the cargo in my car. As it turned out the guys would pedal through the same town a few hours later, and stop at a bike shop I had walked past earlier in the day. Ben was having trouble with his bike not shifting properly. He had stopped along the trail to make a few adjustments, but wasn’t able to solve the problem. They needed a professional. It didn’t take too long before they were on their way again. I reached Clermont later in the day, our destination for the night. Stopped at a traffic light at the bottom of a hill, I could feel the car shifting down to gain the required gearing to reach the top when the light turned green. This was going to be hard on a bike! Once I saw the trail they needed to climb not far from the road. I could almost feel the lactic acid that would be burning in their thighs as they turned the crank again and again. I felt bad for them, but there was nothing I could do.
I got a text from Ben asking me to search out a sporting goods store where I could buy him a long sleeve shirt that was lightweight and had SPF properties. Two days of sun beating down on his neck and bare arms proved too much for skin that spent most of its time in the cockpit of a plane. He had been cooked! His skin protesting that it was on fire! He needed protection and he needed it two days ago! I was the support crew and “Mom”! I bought him two! He was badly sunburned, but at least this would stop it from getting worse. What I couldn’t stop was what they never thought about. Their lips! By the time they began to notice, the damage had been done and they were beginning to swell. The blisters and cracking would come later and would take a full two weeks to heal.
As with every evening I watched the clock and checked in with the GPS tracking to see where they were and if they were moving. I would get nervous if I noticed they had stopped and would text Kim to make sure they were okay. It seemed like every night they were pushing daylight to finish. I was worried, for tomorrow was one of those days that Ben had warned would be a long one. 70 miles! How would they manage that? It was taking them 8 hrs to finish 50, what with a savage headwind, and now the endless hills. Tomorrow they would face a swamp. Deep sand and possible water, with an extra 20 miles to ride. Maybe they could get on the trail earlier, but that would only buy them so much time. The path would be a tough one, and I did not want them out there after dark! This is Florida! A scary place in the dark!
The end of day two they came riding in around dinner time, looking fairly beat. Though not as hard as the headwind the day before, the hills may as well have been mountains. Their thighs were burning as I knew they would be. I saw concern on Ben’s face that night at dinner. He was preoccupied. His thoughts were on tomorrow and what could be done about the extra miles, and the swamp. The sand could mean miles of pushing rather than riding, and if they encountered water it would make things worse. There seemed to be no way to make an additional 20 miles before dark. He studied the map and developed a plan. They would ride the initial 12 miles, which would put them back near the highway. There I would pick them up and give them a lift around the worst part of the swamp. Then I would drop them back onto the trail, having made a slight detour. They wouldn’t avoid the swamp altogether, but it would give them a fighting chance to make it through before dark. With a plan made I hoped they would be able to rest.
The morning of the third day seemed to come quickly. I noticed the smiles didn’t come as easily as they had before. Anticipation seemed to be replaced by dread, though perhaps I was projecting what I would have been feeling had it been me. Kim announced that his legs didn’t hurt as much as his backside! He was suspicious that his bike had acquired a tangle of barbed wire where his seat used to be. Ben laughed, but only because he could relate, and felt it was an adequate description. Instead of ending the day with Tylenol I suggested they start with it as well, passing some around.
Modified plans in hand they set off. I went back to the room to pack up yet again. The guys were making this all about them, but I had my challenges too you know! I am positive those suitcases were getting heavier every time I lifted them back into the car. I was counting the days until I could foist that nonsense back on the men in my life!! Call the nearest women’s libber and tattle on me. I don’t care! It was a struggle for me. I did it, but complain I did. They needed to know that being on the support crew was not a cushy job! When you’re barely 5 ft tall, leverage is not a tool in the toolbox! Either those suitcases were getting heavier, or the back of my car was getting higher! Which was it!?
Driving to the rendezvous point, I picked the guys up and gave them a lift to their new drop off, as per the new plan. It was on a sandy, two track rutted road, on which stood the old Richloam General Store and Post Office. It had been there since 1921. A cute little place, and after a cold drink and a few fun purchases to take home I waved as Kim and Ben disappeared back into the swamp. With less mileage to navigate hopefully the sand wouldn’t be too brutal.
Ben continued to have trouble with his bike, including a flat tire they had to fix on the trail. They found a coffee shop not far off their path. No doubt that was Kim’s idea! Stopping for a quick cup they broke out the tools for further adjustments. Another rider had the same thought….about coffee that is. He saw their tools and asked about their destination. He said he figured it wasn’t just a fun day ride by the size of their serious tool kit. He then asked how much training they did to prepare for it? Kim’s answer was simple and to the point, “Not enough!!!”
I got texts from Kim throughout the day and even a video. They had encountered a large oak tree laden with wind chimes of all shapes and sizes. The wind was once again their companion and the subsequent concert in the tree was an eerie one. My daughter-in-law, Ben’s wife, doesn’t like wind chimes at all! She says you always hear them in a scary movie. They are an omen, a foretelling that something bad is about to happen. I love them, but so many of them? They creeped even me out. They came across a group of people preparing for a triathalon event. Kim asked if they were concerned about alligators in the lake. The response was, “It’s a swimming area”. Uh huh, okay! Did anyone tell the gators that? “No chomping swimmers allowed in swimming area”. Call it professional courtesy, one predator to another.
My lift had cut their ride down to a manageable distance and saved them many miles of pushing through sand, though they still encountered sections where the sand was so deep they just fell over and had to walk. As for me I needed to find something to do. I decided I would find a local park, claim a shady spot, and read my book. Instead, I stumbled into an “Art in the Park” event which cost me $5 to park and walk around. I could do that. There was lots to look at, and I even purchased a couple of birthday presents for later in the year. I had sent a text to Kim to let him know where I was, remembering my Mom’s warning to, “Always let someone know where you are”. Shopping done I was walking back to the car when Kim called. They had come across the same event, wanted to know if I was still there, and how to find me? We met up back at the car. Ben followed Kim and without warning fell off his bike when he stopped! Worriedly I asked, “What happened? Are you okay?” He seemed confused by my question. “Why did you fall off your bike?” He replied, “I did? I don’t know.” He didn’t seem to realize it even happened! Now I was confused! Kim offered, “It’s no big deal. It’s how we get off our bikes now. We just fall over.” I laughed, but I don’t think they were kidding. Turns out Kim did the same thing three days before. Put his foot down and just fell over. No reason really, except pure muscle fatigue.
At dinner they looked all done in. The fatigue of the past three days was gaining on them. When I asked if they were having fun I was met with raised eyebrows and uncertainty, but no answer. One more day lay ahead. This one was supposed to be an 80 miler that would take them all the way to St. Petersburg! I couldn’t see that happening. Neither could they. The forecast was for wind, arriving in advance of a rainstorm that would show up on Monday. I suggested they take an extra day to finish, but Ben felt that with the approaching storm that wouldn’t be a good idea. They had run into a couple on the trail who were headed in the other direction. They started at Honeymoon Beach on the Gulf with the wind to their backs! Clever! Why hadn’t we thought of that? If Ben and Kim altered their destination to Honeymoon Beach it would make the last day 60 miles. The final destination a little shorter than the original plan, but where St. Pete had them finishing on the Tampa Bay side of the city, Honeymoon Beach was actually on the Gulf. This would be acceptable! The evening came to an end in the room with Ben’s bike upside down so he could work on the gearing, the derailleur, or whatever was slipping again! Kim declared it was now a race to see what would fall apart first. His body or Ben’s bike!? I was worried Ben might not feel satisfied that they wouldn’t make their original goal, but he was smart enough to recognize the challenges and limitations of weather, equipment, trail conditions, and their own physical status. This course correction still offered the rewards of Florida coast to coast….the Atlantic to the Gulf. He was more than satisfied with the change.
The sun rose. This was it! The last day of miles hard earned, with 60 ahead! There was an excitement and a determination that was palpable. I passed out the Tylenol, and added chapstick along with other supplies for hydration and energy. As I was adding they were both tossing things out, lightening the load. Ben tossed his spare tube. A bold move considering the flat tire from the day before. Kim had two with him. He left one behind. Ben ousted his rain jacket and Kim did the same. They paired down their snacks, but kept the fluids. It was a bit comical to watch as they searched for things they could do without. Their legs never had enough time to recover and their backsides continued to suffer from being saddle sore. Mounting up and starting off was likely the most painful part of the day. Today’s trail would be beautiful and meandering. Their endurance and commitment was commendable. These guys are weekend warriors and not even “every” weekend, yet here they were, digging deep, and giving it everything they had to finish.
As for me I packed up the room once again. Those suitcases felt like they contained rocks when I hoisted them for the last time into the back of the car. The box holding extra water had gotten skewed and I was about to do some tossing of my own if I couldn’t tug and push it out of my way. Channeling my inner sailor with some well chosen, and emphasized salty language I was finally able to muscle it enough to make room for suitcases. I did declare, if only to myself, that the guys could handle those suitcases tomorrow without me!!
I was on my way to Dunedin and Honeymoon Beach on Honeymoon Island. It was a long drive and the parkway I was on allowed for glimpses of the trail Kim and Ben were riding. I wondered if I would see them? I saw lots of riders, but never them. The trail weaved and wandered nearby until at last it disappeared. While I was eating lunch I got a text from Ben. He wanted me to find a liquor store and buy three airline size bottles of whisky for a celebratory drink when they finished! I smiled. My pleasure!!!
Our hotel was situated on the road to the beach. I checked the GPS as usual to locate them. Their average speed was faster than it had been on days past, in spite of the headwind. But that foe remained around 7 mph, instead of the 17+ of their first day. Their pace was around 10 mph, sometimes more. They were like horses heading for the barn! When their position indicated they had passed me I got in the car to meet them on the beach. I caught up with them on the causeway, honked and waved. This was it! This is what they had worked so hard for! Almost there!
Only a few minutes after I parked I received a call from Kim asking exactly where I was, directing them to me. There they were!! The sand and the water of the Gulf greeted them. The smiles said more than words ever could! In that moment I felt I had never been more proud of them! They fought hard for it. They adapted. They overcame and kept going. It wasn’t life and death, but maybe for them in a way it was. A personal goal attained. Father and son, aged 67 and 38, pedaling 206 miles from the Atlantic seashore to the turquoise water of the Gulf. Yes, I was very proud!
There in the parking lot we lifted our tiny bottles of whisky and toasted while we laughed and hugged. We celebrated with a nice dinner. They told me of their experiences along the way. The station along the trail with bike stands and tools for use by those who needed them. The little food and drink stand erected and supplied by a nice woman who put things out for riders. A small sign and box asking only for donations. The many nice bicyclists they encountered. Some just casual day riders, some going the distance the same as them, and other much more serious. They had crossed through two wilderness areas, a swamp, rivers and lakes, encountered many large and beautiful birds, turtles, tortoises, an otter, and several alligators. There were abandoned and overgrown homes that looked as though they ached to tell their stories, and saw a Florida that most tourist here will never know. It was an adventure and one that will never be forgotten.
True to my word, in the morning I made them load those darn suitcases in the back of the car. My work here was done!