Saturday
December 12, 2009
Sorry it's been so long since I've posted. I've been on a bit of a medical hiatus. I haven't been able to ride for about a month now, so it's been difficult for me to focus on future events and plans. I'm also having some issues with Blogger right now, so my goal is to refocus on the customization of my site.
My plan for my next event is to participate in the Downtown Holiday Lights Ride on December 20th. What a great chance to deck the roads with festive lights! Hopefully I'll be able to get back in the saddle for a few short rides before that.
I have quite a few ideas for the pedaling direction I want to take down the road next year. I look forward to updating you on all that when my plan of action becomes more concrete. Until then, have a safe holiday season out on the road.
November 7, 2009
I have been in the biggest funk all week. I'm not sure why. Maybe some post-trip letdown or something. I haven't been able to snap out of it yet. I'm going for my first ride since the tour tomorrow morning, so maybe that'll help clear my mind and get me back down to earth.
In looking back on my first tour experience, here are a few things I've been reflecting on.
The people in the small towns of Georgia are amazing. I've never in my life been so accepted with wide open arms by people I'd never met. Even though I was alone, it seemed like I had a support system because everywhere I went I had people offer to help me, to drive me, to save me, to give me a place to stay. That experience really made me ask myself...would I do the same? If I met a woman in a restaurant who basically said to me I'm traveling here for the first time, tell me about where you live, would I ask her to sit down at my table and join me for a meal? Would I offer her a ride to a location 60 miles away? Would I tell her to call me if she had any sort of trouble whatsoever? Would I invite her to stay in my house for as long as she needed? Sadly, even though I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, I think the answers are all a resounding no. I don't really buy into all the fear that's being dealt to everyone all the time...I never would have gone on this trip if I had...but I'm also not nearly as giving and selfless as these people I met. I attribute it to the small town mentality. There's just something that exists there that I haven't been around in a long time, and it's like a breath of fresh air. I hope that I can grab ahold of some of that mentality and never let go.
Even though I successfully completed this tour, I was so fortunate that nothing went mechanically wrong with The Ranger. If it had I would have been forced to adopt the Blanche Dubois strategy of relying on the kindness of strangers. I really need to spend more time educating myself on bike maintenance before I do this again, particularly if it's solo.
And speaking of solo, I've asked myself several times this past week if I would go solo again. I'm not exactly sure of the answer to that. I'm so glad I did it for my first trip though. It was almost like a rite of passage. It was just something I had to do to prove to myself that I could. It got a bit tiresome, all the people asking me why I would do that or how could my husband let me do that, etc. My blanket response to why I am I doing this pretty quickly became "because I can". For the most part being alone didn't bother me. I really enjoyed being self-sufficient and structuring my days and nights so that I could take care of business. The part where I started craving companionship was when I was actually on the road. I don't listen to music or anything while I'm riding because I personally think it's a safety hazard. So when you're by yourself on backroads time really can go by slowly. It's hard to not look at your computer to see what mile you're on or how much time has elapsed.
It's hard for me to imagine doing a self-supported tour and camping instead of the credit card style. That's more gear that I'd have to carry! I can't imagine doing without some of the amenities that hotel/motel life provide. Some of the best parts of my trip were just relaxing in the tub or enjoying the continental breakfast or watching the Weather Channel...not to mention just the isolation of solo camping.
One of my fantasies has been to do a cross-country tour. I've asked myself since I've been back after having a week-long tour do I think I could do it for ten or twelve weeks. One of my problems on the tour was that with having to carry a load, this trip was probably a bit beyond my physical capabilities, and because of that it became more of a focus on completing each day's ride. I really wasn't able to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. It was all about survival. I made the mistake of doing absolutely zero training carrying a load. I would have to make sure if I did an extended tour of multiple weeks that I devoted the proper amount of time to training and nutrition so that I'd be physically prepared. That way I'd be able to enjoy the tour for what it is meant to be...sightseeing! So if I were to do a cross-country tour, I think I'd spend the big bucks for a fully supported tour where the goal is comfort and companionship, lower daily mileages, more rest days, etc. I'm thinking about it for the year I turn 50, which is right around the corner!
I wish I had rigged some sort of microphone hooked up to a recorder while I was riding. I would think of so many different things I wanted to include in the blog, but then never could remember any of them later. Someone needs to come up with some kind of system for no-handed note-taking/recording so that someone like me with a crappy memory can track of all the crazy noteworthy thoughts that cross my mind when I'm riding.
So when is the next one? Good question. I'm contemplating a fundraising ride from December 12-17. I have the vacation days and all systems are go...it's just SO soon and I'd have to raise a lot of money in such a short time and it's a lot of miles each day. Of course it would be supported, so no loads! Sometimes I think I'm just going to continue procrastinate until it really is too late, and I'm not sure why. I really do think it's all part of my post-ride blues. I'm hoping that will evaporate tomorrow morning as I gather with some friends for a flat 42-mile ride and I'll get off the fence one way or another about it. I'll keep you posted.
I have been in the biggest funk all week. I'm not sure why. Maybe some post-trip letdown or something. I haven't been able to snap out of it yet. I'm going for my first ride since the tour tomorrow morning, so maybe that'll help clear my mind and get me back down to earth.
In looking back on my first tour experience, here are a few things I've been reflecting on.
The people in the small towns of Georgia are amazing. I've never in my life been so accepted with wide open arms by people I'd never met. Even though I was alone, it seemed like I had a support system because everywhere I went I had people offer to help me, to drive me, to save me, to give me a place to stay. That experience really made me ask myself...would I do the same? If I met a woman in a restaurant who basically said to me I'm traveling here for the first time, tell me about where you live, would I ask her to sit down at my table and join me for a meal? Would I offer her a ride to a location 60 miles away? Would I tell her to call me if she had any sort of trouble whatsoever? Would I invite her to stay in my house for as long as she needed? Sadly, even though I'm a bit ashamed to admit it, I think the answers are all a resounding no. I don't really buy into all the fear that's being dealt to everyone all the time...I never would have gone on this trip if I had...but I'm also not nearly as giving and selfless as these people I met. I attribute it to the small town mentality. There's just something that exists there that I haven't been around in a long time, and it's like a breath of fresh air. I hope that I can grab ahold of some of that mentality and never let go.
Even though I successfully completed this tour, I was so fortunate that nothing went mechanically wrong with The Ranger. If it had I would have been forced to adopt the Blanche Dubois strategy of relying on the kindness of strangers. I really need to spend more time educating myself on bike maintenance before I do this again, particularly if it's solo.
And speaking of solo, I've asked myself several times this past week if I would go solo again. I'm not exactly sure of the answer to that. I'm so glad I did it for my first trip though. It was almost like a rite of passage. It was just something I had to do to prove to myself that I could. It got a bit tiresome, all the people asking me why I would do that or how could my husband let me do that, etc. My blanket response to why I am I doing this pretty quickly became "because I can". For the most part being alone didn't bother me. I really enjoyed being self-sufficient and structuring my days and nights so that I could take care of business. The part where I started craving companionship was when I was actually on the road. I don't listen to music or anything while I'm riding because I personally think it's a safety hazard. So when you're by yourself on backroads time really can go by slowly. It's hard to not look at your computer to see what mile you're on or how much time has elapsed.
It's hard for me to imagine doing a self-supported tour and camping instead of the credit card style. That's more gear that I'd have to carry! I can't imagine doing without some of the amenities that hotel/motel life provide. Some of the best parts of my trip were just relaxing in the tub or enjoying the continental breakfast or watching the Weather Channel...not to mention just the isolation of solo camping.
One of my fantasies has been to do a cross-country tour. I've asked myself since I've been back after having a week-long tour do I think I could do it for ten or twelve weeks. One of my problems on the tour was that with having to carry a load, this trip was probably a bit beyond my physical capabilities, and because of that it became more of a focus on completing each day's ride. I really wasn't able to stop and smell the roses, so to speak. It was all about survival. I made the mistake of doing absolutely zero training carrying a load. I would have to make sure if I did an extended tour of multiple weeks that I devoted the proper amount of time to training and nutrition so that I'd be physically prepared. That way I'd be able to enjoy the tour for what it is meant to be...sightseeing! So if I were to do a cross-country tour, I think I'd spend the big bucks for a fully supported tour where the goal is comfort and companionship, lower daily mileages, more rest days, etc. I'm thinking about it for the year I turn 50, which is right around the corner!
I wish I had rigged some sort of microphone hooked up to a recorder while I was riding. I would think of so many different things I wanted to include in the blog, but then never could remember any of them later. Someone needs to come up with some kind of system for no-handed note-taking/recording so that someone like me with a crappy memory can track of all the crazy noteworthy thoughts that cross my mind when I'm riding.
So when is the next one? Good question. I'm contemplating a fundraising ride from December 12-17. I have the vacation days and all systems are go...it's just SO soon and I'd have to raise a lot of money in such a short time and it's a lot of miles each day. Of course it would be supported, so no loads! Sometimes I think I'm just going to continue procrastinate until it really is too late, and I'm not sure why. I really do think it's all part of my post-ride blues. I'm hoping that will evaporate tomorrow morning as I gather with some friends for a flat 42-mile ride and I'll get off the fence one way or another about it. I'll keep you posted.
October 31, 2009
Well, I couldn't handle it. It just seemed so anticlimactic sitting in the hotel room last night. Steve was discouraging me from riding today, that he didn't want me to hurt myself, that I'd gone far enough. I just didn't want to have any regrets. I didn't want to succumb (as Shayna put it) to the security offered to me. So for the first time during the entire trip I set the alarm so that I could take off at sunrise and head toward St. Augustine.
I'm SOOOOOOOOO glad I did! It was 30 miles of sheer bliss.
Mr. S&R took these pictures of me at dawn just before starting.
And then this one right after I took off.
It's kind of hard to see, but it had those shaker singles on the front and was just beautiful. And for the benefit of Mr. S&R, an early morning golf course shot.
And here's my contribution to the morning pictures after stopping at a home construction site to use the porto-potty.
I had left absolutely everything behind except my water. I didn't even carry spare tubes or anything today. Red and I were flying high. My hotel didn't have a continental breakfast...only brunch later in the day...so I had eaten a few bites of trail mix before leaving and was getting pretty hungry, but I just kept on pedaling. At around 26 miles I see a black Prius pass me by and then pull in front of me. Guess who! He snapped this.
And he brought me Krispy Kremes and chocolate milk. Breakfast of champions! So for the first time this trip I made it 26 miles before breaking. It's amazing what not carrying a load can do! What I didn't know was that I was almost done. Steve took off after the break and I continued on my way. In just a couple of minutes I saw this.
Well, I couldn't handle it. It just seemed so anticlimactic sitting in the hotel room last night. Steve was discouraging me from riding today, that he didn't want me to hurt myself, that I'd gone far enough. I just didn't want to have any regrets. I didn't want to succumb (as Shayna put it) to the security offered to me. So for the first time during the entire trip I set the alarm so that I could take off at sunrise and head toward St. Augustine.
I'm SOOOOOOOOO glad I did! It was 30 miles of sheer bliss.
Mr. S&R took these pictures of me at dawn just before starting.
And then this one right after I took off.
And while I was riding I asked him to take some pictures of the sunrise because he had his good camera and I was on the road. Just wanted to share what I was experiencing.
I started out on 1st Street (or Ocean) along the coast. I then merged onto Ponte Vedra Boulevard and I wasn't alone! There were so many cyclists and runners out there. It's a great stretch of road and everyone had the same idea...to take advantage of the beautiful sunrise. For the first time all week I was getting passed by something other than cars and trucks! There were serious hard-core cyclists out there in their pace lines and on their triathlon bikes training. The neighborhood there is beautiful. There are some amazing houses and resorts. This is one of my favorites.
And here's my contribution to the morning pictures after stopping at a home construction site to use the porto-potty.
I had left absolutely everything behind except my water. I didn't even carry spare tubes or anything today. Red and I were flying high. My hotel didn't have a continental breakfast...only brunch later in the day...so I had eaten a few bites of trail mix before leaving and was getting pretty hungry, but I just kept on pedaling. At around 26 miles I see a black Prius pass me by and then pull in front of me. Guess who! He snapped this.
And he brought me Krispy Kremes and chocolate milk. Breakfast of champions! So for the first time this trip I made it 26 miles before breaking. It's amazing what not carrying a load can do! What I didn't know was that I was almost done. Steve took off after the break and I continued on my way. In just a couple of minutes I saw this.
I couldn't believe it. Two miles. Guess which way I turned?? That led to the Francis and Mary Usina Bridge going across the river to St. Augustine...my last climb of the trip. I stopped at the top to take these pictures.
Then I took a look around, took a deep breath, got in Red's saddle and zoomed down the hill, bawling the whole way. That was the moment I would have missed out on if I hadn't ridden today. That was the feeling of exhilaration I was lacking. That was the glorious sense of empowerment, achievement, and amazement I would have regretted not experiencing. That was when I crossed the finished line. That was my victory lap.
It was a bit surreal loading up the car. Like I said yesterday, I had developed such a routine that it seemed strange to me that it was coming to an end. I was so emotional. I was crying as I put The Ranger up on the car rack.
While Steve went to the bathroom I secretly kissed him and hugged him and thanked him for carrying me safely home. I know that sounds so melodramatic, but that's what I was feeling at that moment. Then we got in the car and were immediately in a time crunch. We had made plans to visit Michelle, a family friend who lives on Anastasia Island. We were an hour late because we set the time last night, when I had decided I wasn't going to ride today. And we had to squeeze in our visit in enough time to drive back to Orlando so Steve could watch the Florida v. Georgia game (current score 24-10 at the half). Again it was so strange being held to time constraints...something I'll have to quickly get used to again.
We had a lovely visit with Mich. I've known her since she was born (47 long years ago). Her home is right on the beach with a gorgeous porch with Adirondack chairs to enjoy the ocean views. I showered and we sat around and chatted and then went out for brunch at the Palma (or Palms or something similar) Grill. It tasted sooo good and it was great to see Michelle after so many years.
Then we hit the road for home and here I am. It was emotional again unloading Red from the car and putting him in the garage. It's like he became this other entity to me during this trip...my friend and companion and caregiver. Just didn't seem right to stick him in the garage after he was spoiled this week! I thanked him again for being so trustworthy and reliable and bringing me home.
I got a message from my friend Jenni saying that this would be a life-changing experience for me, and it has been. I'm still kind of numb from it all and haven't been able to reflect on all the things I experienced and the changes I've undergone. I'll have to post on all that after I've had some time to emotionally settle down and be still for a bit. So that's what I'm going to do right now...just relax and be still and let it all sink in. I can't believe it's over.
October 30, 2009
It's so strange with the end drawing near. I feel like I've been doing this so long that now it's just a part of my everyday life. I've got my routine down to a tee. This morning when I got up I felt pretty good after the grind yesterday and started getting ready...packing the bags, eating breakfast, getting ready to go. It dawns on me that I'm really going to miss the drill when this is all over. I ended up getting a later start than expected, which was fine today since it was a shortish ride and I was going to get to the hotel before Mr. S&R anyway.
I started out a bit shy of 10:00 and was looking forward to today's ride because I expected some lovely surroundings and spectacular scenery. But first I had to deal with going east toward the coast on the same road that was pretty crappy for me the day before. Traffic was horrible this morning. The Florida v. Georgia game is tomorrow in Jacksonville and there is way more traffic than usual. The entire beginning 13 miles was zooming cars and trucks and me. My friend Leica informed me this morning that 18-wheelers outweigh me by like 16 tons. Really don't need to go there! But again like yesterday, I did what I was supposed to do, stayed focused on my surroundings, and everything was fine. I finally reached the bridge going over to Amelia Island.
The canopy road was beautiful. I didn't get any pictures because I was holding up traffic since it was a two-lane road without a bike lane. Couldn't really pull over in that situation. I eventually rode over the bridge crossing Nassau Sound.
My favorite part of the ride today was the stretch that Cherry rides all the time, from the bridge over Nassau Sound to the ferry. Along that route you pass by Big Talbot Island State Park and Little Talbot State Park. You also cross over Fort George Inlet.
So I took advantage of the 30-minute wait and had a pit stop. Here's RR waiting for the ferry.
And a few more I took myself.
It's so strange with the end drawing near. I feel like I've been doing this so long that now it's just a part of my everyday life. I've got my routine down to a tee. This morning when I got up I felt pretty good after the grind yesterday and started getting ready...packing the bags, eating breakfast, getting ready to go. It dawns on me that I'm really going to miss the drill when this is all over. I ended up getting a later start than expected, which was fine today since it was a shortish ride and I was going to get to the hotel before Mr. S&R anyway.
I started out a bit shy of 10:00 and was looking forward to today's ride because I expected some lovely surroundings and spectacular scenery. But first I had to deal with going east toward the coast on the same road that was pretty crappy for me the day before. Traffic was horrible this morning. The Florida v. Georgia game is tomorrow in Jacksonville and there is way more traffic than usual. The entire beginning 13 miles was zooming cars and trucks and me. My friend Leica informed me this morning that 18-wheelers outweigh me by like 16 tons. Really don't need to go there! But again like yesterday, I did what I was supposed to do, stayed focused on my surroundings, and everything was fine. I finally reached the bridge going over to Amelia Island.
After going over the bridge I turned onto Amelia Island Parkway, which was a lovely stretch of road and where I found my first dedicated bike lane of the trip.
Unfortunately it didn't last too long! I ran into this woman on this portion of the road.
I explained to her that my horse's name is Red Ranger. For some reason she gave me a funny look. I neighed farewell to her steed and pedaled on my way. Then I came across this sign, which I don't think my picture does it justice. It's one of my favorite road signs.
As I was hanging out taking pictures another cyclist rode up and stopped and we had a great conversation. Her name is Cherry and she lives on Amelia Island. She's a cycling advocate and is working to improve conditions for cycling on Amelia Island. She was wearing a Colorado jersey and explained that she cycles there during the summer. She rides from Amelia Island to the ferry most days, about a 30-mile ride, but was complaining that it's too flat in Florida! I didn't go into my hill woes. I can understand how cycling here in Florida might seem a bit disappointing after riding in the Rocky Mountain state. She took this picture of me (us) on the bridge before she headed on her way.
My favorite part of the ride today was the stretch that Cherry rides all the time, from the bridge over Nassau Sound to the ferry. Along that route you pass by Big Talbot Island State Park and Little Talbot State Park. You also cross over Fort George Inlet.
Eventually you get to the ferry that crosses the St. Johns River. I rolled in just as the ferry was taking off. I thought about doing the run-and-jump like in the movies, but my path was blocked.
So I took advantage of the 30-minute wait and had a pit stop. Here's RR waiting for the ferry.
And here's a picture of me with my $1.00 boarding fee taken by one of a carload of Florida fans in town for the game.
On board the ferry I struck up a conversation with several of the passengers, but in particular a woman named Leigh Ann, a pool cleaner, who travels on the ferry three times a week to service her clients across the river. She was the first in line to drive aboard, and therefore the one car closest to the webbing that runs across preventing cars from tumbling into the river. I asked her if she ever thought about her car diving into the river and she told me every single trip she takes on the ferry she thinks of Thelma and Louise. Here's a picture she took of me on the ferry.
And a few more I took myself.
After disembarking from the ferry I rode along a lovely road through the town of Mayport before heading into Atlantic Beach and then Jacksonville Beach. There was only one problem road in this section, as I was forewarned by a passenger on the ferry. He was right! But I only had about two miles of it before heading off into quiet neighborhoods, zigzagging toward 1st Street/Ocean Street, where my hotel is located.
I got to the hotel just in time to unload and shower before Mr. Search and Rescue knocked on the door. A person I know! It was so good to see him. We headed down to Atlantic Beach to a place called Ragtime for a glass of wine and an appetizer to hold us until dinner. After strolling around just a bit we headed back to the hotel. I took a brief nap and we just relaxed for a while before heading out to a restaurant named Campeche Bay for some Mexican food...fish tacos to be specific. Yum!
Right now we're back in the hotel and our room has an ocean view just beyond the courtyard. There's a Greek wedding going on and the music is loud! Also they're breaking dishes on the ground. Lots of them! Everybody is just grabbing dishes and throwing them into the broken dish pile and whooping it up and screaming. I'm glad they're enjoying themselves, but I wonder how late this party is gonna go!
I've had mixed feelings about tomorrow. I've wavered and changed my mind a couple of times. I had come to the conclusion that I was going to cancel tomorrow's ride for two reasons. One, my body is pretty much spent. I've abused it this week and it's letting me know how pissed it is at me. Two, this weekend is chaotic around here, packed with revelers and tailgaters and reckless beer-guzzling scalawags...not the safest environment for a cyclist. Of course they probably won't be up early in the morning when I'd be heading out though. Steve is convinced I shouldn't go. I feel both ways. I'd be relieved that it's over and I've accomplished quite a bit, but I also feel it isn't done yet. I just haven't crossed the finish line (one that Steve reminds me was arbitrary), or as Shayna says, taken my victory lap. Not sure what I'm gonna do yet. All I can say is check in tomorrow...same bat time, same bat channel.
October 29, 2009
Before I get started, here's a leftover sunset from Folkston picture.
Today might have been the hardest day for me. Not only was it physically tasking, but absolutely nothing noteworthy happened AT ALL! I didn't see anything memorable and I had no social interactions. It just became all about the grueling ride and making it to today's finish line.
The dumpy smelly flea-bag motel had a dumpy smelly continental breakfast. I took the path of least grossocity and had some off-brand of raisin bran and milk. Fortunately I had gotten a banana from the grocery store last night for today's ride, but I ate it for breakfast instead. I also had purchased a potato from the store because I had a microwave in my room and I've been taking half of a baked potato with me on days that are going to be tough rides. But the microwave in the DSFB motel room didn't work, so I ended up wasting a perfectly fine spud.
It took me a while to get started this morning because I had to repack all the brain bag stuff from the mishap the day before, but I finally was off and mentally, if not physically, prepared to tackle the hills. Just a few miles from Folkston was the Florida border.
Before I get started, here's a leftover sunset from Folkston picture.
Today might have been the hardest day for me. Not only was it physically tasking, but absolutely nothing noteworthy happened AT ALL! I didn't see anything memorable and I had no social interactions. It just became all about the grueling ride and making it to today's finish line.
The dumpy smelly flea-bag motel had a dumpy smelly continental breakfast. I took the path of least grossocity and had some off-brand of raisin bran and milk. Fortunately I had gotten a banana from the grocery store last night for today's ride, but I ate it for breakfast instead. I also had purchased a potato from the store because I had a microwave in my room and I've been taking half of a baked potato with me on days that are going to be tough rides. But the microwave in the DSFB motel room didn't work, so I ended up wasting a perfectly fine spud.
It took me a while to get started this morning because I had to repack all the brain bag stuff from the mishap the day before, but I finally was off and mentally, if not physically, prepared to tackle the hills. Just a few miles from Folkston was the Florida border.
And just in case you didn't believe it the first time or you thought you were being deceived, about a half mile down the road...
The hills were alive today. They stood up and made their presence known. It was a tough and grueling 30 miles, but again what are you gonna do? You're gonna go up. Part of why these hills were difficult for me is because I'm on a recumbent, part is I haven't done enough hill training, part is nutrition, and part is that my body is just exhausted from the previous days. It wasn't fun, but I did it! Woo-hoo...strong mom beats hills!
And then strong mom hits massive headwind. Strong mom can beat massive headwind and strong mom can beat hills, but not really one right after the other. I was spent. I thought I had had a headwind for most of the trip and was looking forward to heading east to pick up a bit of tailwind, like airplanes do with the jet stream. Apparently it doesn't work that way. Again maybe it was because I'm so fatigued, but this seemed like the worst wind I've been in with the exception of the northern leg of the Katie Ride for Life ride from Amelia Island. And to hit that after the hills was pretty debilitating for me.
My right foot started burning at about mile 40, which is my back telling me it's had enough, so I decided to risk another DSFB motel situation and stay in Callahan. But when I stopped at the BP and took the key to the bathroom outside and found a cockroach in the sink (sorry no photo...had to get out of there fast), I had to think twice. Here's Callahan in a nutshell.
This was how it appeared from every angle. Appealing? I think not. I didn't speak to one person there. Not one person spoke to me. I'm not sure and didn't really care to find out, but I think Callahan is just a pit stop for all the logging trucks going to the paper mill on the east coast. I really didn't want to keep going, but I couldn't persuade myself to stay there. It was easier put in another 12 miles in the headwind. How sad is that.
Side note: My rest stops today were so diametrically opposed to my Georgia stops. There was a noticeable difference once I crossed the border. The people in Florida just aren't as courteous, friendly, accommodating. I was even at one place where a guy was bringing in a dolly of cases of beer and a man walked out and let the door close right in front of the guy and didn't bother to hold it open for him. The guy was standing two feet away! No way he could have missed him. Beer guy and I made eye contact and did the simultaneous what-a-schmuck eyeroll. Why is that? I guess a faster pace life just beats people down. Who knows.
Anywho, back on the road, my ACA route map had me getting on 200/A1A out of Callahan. I have to say a good seven miles of this stretch was probably the least cyclist-friendly road I've been on on this trip. It's a two-lane road with no shoulder and a speed limit of 60, a major access road to I-95. Plus it's lined with construction barrels. So I'm high-tailing it into the crazy headwind at the whopping speed of 10 mph and logging trucks and other 18-wheelers are buzzing by me. Eventually the road picks up another lane in each direction and a shoulder, so that part was easy because the traffic was diluted and vehicles had an extra lane to move into to pass me. But you know what...I took the skills I've learned in my two-day traffic skills class and implemented them to a tee. I have just as much right to that road as any other vehicle, and when necessary I just claimed my lane and let the motorists deal with it. I wasn't scared or nervous. I was totally confident. I actually even appreciated those 18-wheelers because when they go past you they leave for several glorious seconds a huge vacuum of dead air as they break wind (I said break wind...tee-hee) and I had some brief relief from the headwind. Talk about drafting!
So 30 miles of hills and 25 miles of headwind later, I rounded a corner on 200/A1A and saw the splendid sight of I-95. I knew as soon as I went under the highway that I was done for the day. Right before I got to I-95 I saw this sign.
Things that make you go hmmm. I just started thinking of how far I've come since starting this trip in Savannah...almost 300 miles after barely being able to push my bike on the sidewalk. And even though my body is a bit broken right now, I'll persevere. I've come this far and I can't stop now. It's not finished yet.
Now here I am at the Holiday Inn Express in Yulee, where the only things around me are I-95, other hotels, and fast-food restaurants. Nothing else. Nada. But the hotel is lovely...Buckingham Palace compared to last night. Got the double queen room so Red can have his own bed this time. Headed to Jacksonville Beach tomorrow where I'm staying at an oceanfront hotel and Mr. Drive and Dump will become Mr. Search and Rescue and spend Friday night with me looking out at the Atlantic Ocean and be my support/transport vehicle on Saturday. Life is good.
Martha's comment reminded me...not a single gourdhead in Folkston! By the way, I realized who they remind me of...Alice the Goon.
October 28, 2009
Well, for what started out as a day I was admittedly dreading, it turned out to be a pretty damn good day.
Let me just start by wishing Betty Thornton’s mother in Blackshear a speedy recovery. I talked with Betty for about half an hour last night after I sent my post and her 88-year-old mother, after a pretty significant fall, is having a pacemaker put in today. All my best, Betty. Let me hear from you soon. (I sound like a character in one of Fannie Flagg's books.)
It was thunder storming this morning when I woke up. The guy in the room next to me had his TV going so loud that it woke me up. How rude! He must not be from Georgia. After checking the forecast, there was no telling when it was gonna let up. I was secretly kind of hoping for an excuse to stay put for a day of rest, but that would throw off the entire schedule. Come sunrise it had let up some, so I was hopeful it would continue to clear. Ta da! Wish granted. The roads were wet and it was cloudy, but no big deal.
My legs to start off were so stiff, even after stretching all morning, so it was rough from the get-go. I had hills again for about the first ten miles, but then mercifully it flattened out for the majority of the ride. I stopped and took a midway point celebration picture.
And it turned into a beautiful day.
Talk about sleepy! Then I rolled into Folkston after a long ride.
I really don't understand the concept of train-watching, so I was determined to get to the bottom of it. Of course I don't understand the popularity of NASCAR either, but zillions are fans. To me it seemed like the same type of thing...watching something going around and around (or down a track, as it were). By the way, during the ten minutes I was talking to the ladies two trains came by. The tracks run right through the middle of town. I asked how Folkston became the in spot for train-watching, and neither one could really answer me. After doing some reading it seems it really just happened because they have over 70 trains a day coming through. They actually have a platform called the Folkston Funnel where people sit and watch the trains go by.
So I went and sat up there with that guy in the picture. He's from Jacksonville, about an hour's drive away, and he comes to Folkston once a week to watch the trains. I asked him what the enchantment was. Paula had told me that people come and sit for hours and log the trains. I'm just thinking, log 'em? Like in a log? And then what? What do you do with the log? Well, Jacksonville dude (who shall remain nameless since I didn't ask him his name) explained that people log the train numbers down and by knowing the train numbers, they know where the train came from and where it's going. To which my response was...um, okay. While we were sitting there together, about 30 minutes or so, seven trains came by. I said, Dude, there have been like seven trains in 30 minutes. He said, yeah, there are peak times of the day. And they were going both ways! Imagine that! They have double tracks and the trains go both ways! So I decided that I was going to get the number of the next train.
For the first time this trip I'm really disappointed with my motel room. It's your standard dumpy smelly motel room. And it's not within walking distance of hardly anything. Red and I are not only sharing a room...we're sharing a bed! Seriously, he's half on Steve's side of the bed. Hey, at least I'm not sleeping alone tonight! What the hell...we've been spooning and pretty intimate this entire trip.
Tomorrow's ride will be quite challenging. I've had my chunks of hills already, but this segment promises to be the hilliest of all. I'll have challenges for 30 miles or so. But thankfully once that's over, it really is over. I should be home free hill-wise for the rest of the trip as I approach the coast. 30 miles! And I'm gonna get it fast and furious, with the first major climb, probably the steepest of the entire trip, in about two miles. Those legs need to warm up early! But Shay's comments have really motivated me. Strong mom will prevail! Tomorrow is the only segment of the ride where I haven't made reservations for accommodations for the night. I originally was going to go to Callahan, but had difficulty getting a reservation...not because of being booked, but because I either couldn't reach the motel, the person answering the phone didn't speak English, or the most interesting...even though they weren't 100% full, they would not make a rez for me because they booked their quota of rooms they can pre-book. The rest are for walk-ins. I spoke with a woman this evening from Callahan and she said the only motels there are flea-bag types and it would behoove me to go on another 12 miles to Yulee, so I think that's what I'm going to do, assuming my legs can pump out another 12 miles after 30 miles of hills! They're really wearing out. I was served notice today that my quads have filed suit for reckless endangerment. I'll keep you posted on my final destination.
Okay. I haven't done any of my nightly pre-ride duties because of the Gatorade incident (I knew I should have brought the Accelerade!). So from the dumpy smelly flea-bag of a room in the Western Motel in quaint and charming Folkston, Georgia, I bid you a sweet choo-choo.
Well, for what started out as a day I was admittedly dreading, it turned out to be a pretty damn good day.
Let me just start by wishing Betty Thornton’s mother in Blackshear a speedy recovery. I talked with Betty for about half an hour last night after I sent my post and her 88-year-old mother, after a pretty significant fall, is having a pacemaker put in today. All my best, Betty. Let me hear from you soon. (I sound like a character in one of Fannie Flagg's books.)
It was thunder storming this morning when I woke up. The guy in the room next to me had his TV going so loud that it woke me up. How rude! He must not be from Georgia. After checking the forecast, there was no telling when it was gonna let up. I was secretly kind of hoping for an excuse to stay put for a day of rest, but that would throw off the entire schedule. Come sunrise it had let up some, so I was hopeful it would continue to clear. Ta da! Wish granted. The roads were wet and it was cloudy, but no big deal.
My legs to start off were so stiff, even after stretching all morning, so it was rough from the get-go. I had hills again for about the first ten miles, but then mercifully it flattened out for the majority of the ride. I stopped and took a midway point celebration picture.
As I was riding I was chasing the storm clouds away.
And it turned into a beautiful day.
I think street names in rural Georgia are named after the people that live on them. I saw so many street names like James Bendmoore, Walter Crane, John Steinfeild (which I think was a typo). And whoever the Tyres of Georgia are, they lived all over the place. There was a Cecil Tyre Street and a Ben Tyre Street and a William Tyre Street and another Cecil Tyre Street (kind of like my brother Cecil and my other brother Cecil).
And I must reemphasize how friendly and accommodating the non-creepy Georgians are. Everybody talks to everybody and offers assistance to strangers like family. It truly is amazing.
Close to Folkston I rode through a small neighboring town called Homeland. This was my first view of it.
Sorry for the dark pictures. Again I'm limited now to the iPhone. Guess I should have downloaded a flash app. Oh, well. Lessons to be learned.
Homeland is a sleepy little town...literally. It was almost like a ghost town. I've never been anywhere more quiet. This is where the sheriff lives.
I guess he would be the head of Homeland security. Check out the city hall.
Talk about sleepy! Then I rolled into Folkston after a long ride.
I got in town early enough to walk around a bit. It was a little bit of a challenge because for the first time my motel is not really close to anything. So I checked in and unloaded Red. This is where I had my first pain-in-the-ass mishap. I had strapped a bottle of Gatorade on top of my brain bag. As I dismounted at the hotel and went to open the bag to get my credit card out, the bag was leaking fruit punch flavored Gatorade. I hadn't closed it tight enough. Of course I couldn't get the clear Ice flavor, could I? It saturated everything in there. Ugh. I had to take every single thing out of there and wash it out. Anywho, back to the story, instead of showering I just turned right back around and took a sleek Ranger into town so we could wander around.
Here's the county courthouse.
It really reminded me of the one in Back to the Future. I also appreciated the sign posted in front!
I started polling people on what I should know about Folkston, but realized pretty quickly that it was pointless. The only two answers I got were it's the gateway to the Okefenokee Swamp and it's the top city in the country for train-watching enthusiasts. Nothing else! Oh, they tried, but it was just scrambled-up words of the same answers. You might not be able to see it clearly, but here's a painting on the side of a building that encapsulates both.
Moving on, I made it to the area of town which celebrates the passion of the townfolks...train-watching.
I stopped by the visitors center and talked with Paula and Leslie there.
I really don't understand the concept of train-watching, so I was determined to get to the bottom of it. Of course I don't understand the popularity of NASCAR either, but zillions are fans. To me it seemed like the same type of thing...watching something going around and around (or down a track, as it were). By the way, during the ten minutes I was talking to the ladies two trains came by. The tracks run right through the middle of town. I asked how Folkston became the in spot for train-watching, and neither one could really answer me. After doing some reading it seems it really just happened because they have over 70 trains a day coming through. They actually have a platform called the Folkston Funnel where people sit and watch the trains go by.
So I went and sat up there with that guy in the picture. He's from Jacksonville, about an hour's drive away, and he comes to Folkston once a week to watch the trains. I asked him what the enchantment was. Paula had told me that people come and sit for hours and log the trains. I'm just thinking, log 'em? Like in a log? And then what? What do you do with the log? Well, Jacksonville dude (who shall remain nameless since I didn't ask him his name) explained that people log the train numbers down and by knowing the train numbers, they know where the train came from and where it's going. To which my response was...um, okay. While we were sitting there together, about 30 minutes or so, seven trains came by. I said, Dude, there have been like seven trains in 30 minutes. He said, yeah, there are peak times of the day. And they were going both ways! Imagine that! They have double tracks and the trains go both ways! So I decided that I was going to get the number of the next train.
And I said, Dude, where's the number? I didn't see a number. I mean, all the cars have numbers, but I assume those are just that...the car numbers. He said they're announced. And sure enough, lo and behold, the conductors are talking to each other or to dispatch or somebody and it's all being broadcast on a PA at the Funnel. So we watched the trains go by. Seven of them. They were LOUD! And then it slowed down and the dude left. I have to admit it was kind of mesmerizing watching the trains. Way better than NASCAR.
And then the saddest part of my day. Train Kitty found me. Just walked up the steps of the Funnel and rubbed on my back as I was sitting there and then climbed up in my lap and made her/himself at home.
Yes, it was a little Harley look-alike, just five or six months old. The sweetest cat I've ever met. Hangs out near the Funnel somewhere. I loved on him/her for quite a while. Didn't seem too skinny. I saw later someone had put out a can of cat food (that the bees were enjoying). I told Steve I would have ended my trip right then and there if I could figure out a way to save this kitty, but alas I was forced to walk away (with the inevitable tears in my eyes) and leave Train Kitty there. Of course I told every single person I saw the rest of the evening that they needed to go save TK. I hold out little hope.
After that I went to the Okefenokee Restaurant for an early dinner. It was recommended by everyone I asked. They had a buffet of southern homestyle cookin'. It was delish! They were of course fascinated with The Ranger. I swear, people must think I'm an alien the way they look at me when I pedal by. I've always gotten looks on my bike, but this is different. This is truly other worldly. They just don't know what to make of it all.
For the first time this trip I'm really disappointed with my motel room. It's your standard dumpy smelly motel room. And it's not within walking distance of hardly anything. Red and I are not only sharing a room...we're sharing a bed! Seriously, he's half on Steve's side of the bed. Hey, at least I'm not sleeping alone tonight! What the hell...we've been spooning and pretty intimate this entire trip.
Tomorrow's ride will be quite challenging. I've had my chunks of hills already, but this segment promises to be the hilliest of all. I'll have challenges for 30 miles or so. But thankfully once that's over, it really is over. I should be home free hill-wise for the rest of the trip as I approach the coast. 30 miles! And I'm gonna get it fast and furious, with the first major climb, probably the steepest of the entire trip, in about two miles. Those legs need to warm up early! But Shay's comments have really motivated me. Strong mom will prevail! Tomorrow is the only segment of the ride where I haven't made reservations for accommodations for the night. I originally was going to go to Callahan, but had difficulty getting a reservation...not because of being booked, but because I either couldn't reach the motel, the person answering the phone didn't speak English, or the most interesting...even though they weren't 100% full, they would not make a rez for me because they booked their quota of rooms they can pre-book. The rest are for walk-ins. I spoke with a woman this evening from Callahan and she said the only motels there are flea-bag types and it would behoove me to go on another 12 miles to Yulee, so I think that's what I'm going to do, assuming my legs can pump out another 12 miles after 30 miles of hills! They're really wearing out. I was served notice today that my quads have filed suit for reckless endangerment. I'll keep you posted on my final destination.
Okay. I haven't done any of my nightly pre-ride duties because of the Gatorade incident (I knew I should have brought the Accelerade!). So from the dumpy smelly flea-bag of a room in the Western Motel in quaint and charming Folkston, Georgia, I bid you a sweet choo-choo.
