Dauphin Island

Chris:  We drove the car onto a ferry that took us across Mobile Bay onto Dauphin Island.  I had never even heard of it until preparing for this trip.  The island is known for its white sand beaches and as a stopping place for birds migrating south and north.  There is a large sea lab that promotes excellence in marine education.

I talked to a woman from Birmingham who asked me in a hushed voice what it’s like to live in Michigan.  She has never lived anywhere but Alabama and can’t imagine living where it’s so cold.  I told her I really like four distinct seasons and she admitted that August is pretty awful and they basically stay inside.   No thanks.  I prefer Michigan.

You can see the oil rigs in the Mobile Bay behind us.  The workers go out for two weeks at a time and the oil is pumped through undersea pipes to the refinery.


I nearly crapped my pants from fear when I biked across this 10-mile bridge leaving Dauphin Island.  I made myself stop at the highest point to take a selfie but I couldn’t look down or I got all woozy.  I also had to stay completely focused on the road because there were so many Mardi Gras beads on the road.  I had this vision of my tire slipping on the beads and I’d go hurling over the edge.  It would make a pretty good headline though.   This  just in:  65 year old grandmother plunges to her death from top of ten mile bridge when bike tire skids on Mardi Gras beads.  I’m super disappointed that this picture doesn’t look all that impressive.  Remember what I said about almost crapping my pants?  The threat was real.  Side note:  my $2.00 sunglasses from B and G are working out quite well.  I bought 4 pair because I’m so horrible at taking care of sunglasses.    These will not make it home so I expect that by the time I get to Texas I’ll be sporting a new pair.  Wait for it.

And because I can’t get my phone to cooperate I’ll just go ahead and insert a cute Alabama dog that reminds me of my dog. 

The cows in Alabama are just as cute as the Florida cows.

We made it to Bayou La Batre which I’ve been mispronouncing.   I asked the young woman in the grocery store to say the name of her town.   She loves her town and can’t imagine living anywhere else.  I like it when people love where they live. 

Taking a Rest

David: Life on the road is not all work. Life in the woods is not all work.

Yesterday, Chris and I biked through a Nature Preserve. Partly asphalt paths, and partly elevated wooden walkways through swampy ground. There were groups of “snowbirds” who have been there for a couple weeks who gave us directions to where the baby alligators hang out. So of course we drove by. And there he or she (I neither asked nor attempted to perform an examination) was. Sleeping in the later afternoon sun.

Alligators sleep 17 hours a day. There is a great deal of uniformity on this in a Google search. Not “up to 17 hours a day,” and not “between 16 to 18 hours a day.” Just “17 hours.” Which is a lot. I’m happy for them.

Chris and I do not sleep 17 hours a day ever - and especially not on this trip. How many hours we get in the tent varies. Did we wake up to hear rain on the tent?  Raccoons going through our food?  Sore backs?

But it’s not all tenting. Chris also builds an “off day” into the schedule once a week. Or tries to. Last night after she biked we drove away from the beach to Foley, Alabama where we slept last night. Today, we slept some more! And rearranged the car. Got two “cooling towels” in preparation for driving through Texas. Wrote postcards. Tonight we’ll have supper at the Shrimp House next door. As we were driving back to the Hotel from our shopping trip Chris said, “I’m anxious to get onto the next section.”  That’s the purpose and result of a day off.

Pensacola, Florida to Gulf Shores, Alabama

Chris:  Reluctant to leave beautiful Pensacola we said goodbye to the bestest of hosts, Robert and Michelle and met up with Anne down at the beach for a little clowning around and drove down to Fort Pickens which was breathtakingly beautiful.   When I started sewing I learned just how many varying shades of white there are.  Today I saw sand that is the whitest of white and was dazzling in the overcast light.

David surprised me with a taco lunch on the side of the road and then after I got into ants again (don't ask) that bit my feet and ankles so he sat there and cleaned out my shoes.  Sometimes I roll into a town and find him talking with street vendors or anyone he meets.  We are having different experiences.  I'm focused on getting in the miles and enjoying the scenery.  He has more conversations with people selling boiled peanuts, pecans, grapefruit and oranges and then we compare stories when we meet up.  

For my brother:  Somewhere in Pensacola there is a street that bears your name.  I thought of you and our great ride across Michigan with Anne.  The picture of us on those fake bikes is for you.

It's so exciting to get off the road and bike on a trail that I have to take a picture even though it might not seem that interesting.  I was biking along a narrow strip of land called the Gulf Coast Highway that leads to Perdido Beach.   For the first time on this trip I was firing on all cylinders and was in the zone, clipping along at a pretty good rate, feeling strong, riding along the Gulf of Mexico for miles and miles.   (Don't worry:  I'll be back to my old ways of whining and moaning and barely making it in a day or two) There were condos to the left of me, condos to the right....the only break in the miles of condos was when I came upon a brief stretch of land dedicated to a State Park.  And then I had to come to a stop for a school bus letting off little children, a group of moms waiting for their little ones to get off the bus.  Regular people living normal lives in a tourist town.

The people of Florida have been good to us, both strangers and friends.   We've met some real characters, had great encounters and good conversations.  But under these circumstances I'm sooooooooo happy to say goodbye to Florida and HELLO ALABAMA!!!

Conventional wisdom says that one should bike for six days and then take a day of rest.  I just finished day 11 and I'm beat.  I'm going to do nothing tomorrow.  Nothing.  We've been gone from home for 14 days and have slept in a different place every night.  We might stay in the same bed for two nights in a row.  That would be amazing. 

30 miles from Holt, Florida to Pensacola

Chris: I rode through miles of state forest as I approached Blackwater River State Forest and State Park where we camped for the night.   Raccoons had fun at our campsite while we slept.  Lesson learned:  no matter how tired we are put the food—all of it in the car overnight.  Raccoons have excellent fine motor skills.

 

Leaving Holt, Florida we were able to ride a 7-mile stretch of a beautiful rail to trail that went right through swamp land.  I kept thinking of the workers that constructed that original rail track.  That could not have been a fun job.

 

Stopped at the Santa Rosa Public Library for some directions and to look around.  Librarians are the best.

And then after battling some serious traffic we found ourselves on the beautiful white sands of Pensacola Beach!  It’s simply fabulous!

 

We are experiencing the warm and generous hospitality of Robert and Michelle Oxender who fed us and let us do laundry.  We got to sleep in a bed!  And had wonderful conversation.  It’s exactly what my body and spirit needed.   David and I both enjoy meeting new people on this journey but there’s nothing to compare with seeing old friends after this many days on the road.    My soul feels restored.  Thank you!

 

 

50.22 miles from De Funiak Springs Florida to Blackwater River State Park in Holt, Florida

Chris: We are a week in to this ride and a sort of rhythm is shaping up. 

The night before I ride I chart out my route, studying the map so as to not get lost.  I have learned that lesson the hard way.  I pump up my tires on the bike and fill up water bottles and put a pile of snacks on the front seat of the car so critters won’t eat them overnight.

I wake up early and lie in the tent wondering for a brief moment why I decided to do this ride.  I play Wordle and then make my Words With Friends moves against Henry Braun.  It gives me a goodly shot of adrenaline to beat him so then I get up and put on the ghastly biking clothing.

Sometimes I eat dinner leftovers for breakfast but I prefer yoghurt with some oatmeal and a banana and I try to drink a lot of water before I begin.

Checklist on the bike includes water, snacks, phone, sunscreen, sunglasses.  I put my pepper spray around my neck for possible stray dog encounters.  I turn my bike light on and then there’s no putting it off.  If we are camping too far from the route David drives me to the Adventure Cycling bike route and then I’m off.

David goes back to camp and I assume he begins breaking down camp and packing up but I don’t actually know.  He could go back to bed.  I would if I were him.

At some point along the way David finds me and even though I tell him that a peanut butter sandwich would be delicious he often finds something fantastic from a gas station.  I never knew the food from a gas station could taste so good.  We sit and talk a spell and depending on the route and the road he will ride with me for some miles.

It’s been super fun to have Anne along and we’ve had some good belly laughs about our adventures in Botswana.  I have a couple different men who will be joining us for segments of the ride and I just want to go on record right now that I will not be able to keep up.  I am riding at what feels like the speed of a sloth.

We’ve had great weather for the most part but I must do a better job at applying sunscreen more often.  One morning we woke up to a wet tent.  Probably due to the two big sows bundled up in their respective sleeping bags with the CPAP and charging station humming away combined with the outdoor temperature.

For the reluctant camper that he was I give David an A for attitude.  Well, there was that first night when we didn’t have appropriate sleeping bags and he was a super Grumpy Bear.   That’s why I give him and A and not an A plus.   But we’re only in our first week.  He has time to bring his grade up.

My brother asked me a question about how I’m feeling about the ride. I’d go back and check but it’s too hard writing this from my phone and I don’t want to risk having to start over.   Riding is both interesting and can be incredibly boring.  I’m aware of the risk of riding on all kinds of roads but this trip is just an itch that needed to be scratched.   Is it insane?  Yes.  But I want to raise money for the library and this seemed like a good idea at one time. I have a lot of time to think and ponder and sing and meditate.

 

Today I rode past an amazing pine forest.   State parks are amazing.  We love them so much.

Now we’re going to eat some chicken and veggie instant meals that our good friend Kathy Fenton-Miller prepared for us .  Sure sounds better than cooking tonight.

Jim, Making Community & a Good Life

Jim and his community are on the edge of a number of circles society has formed. But they are at the center of the circle they have formed themselves. And they find joy in living there.
 

David: We pulled into Bass Haven Campground yesterday afternoon, outside De Funiak Springs. Bass Haven is run by and populated by interesting people. The man painting a door came over to greet us when we pulled up. Within the space of 5 minutes, he informed us that he is leaving next month for 8 months on the road playing rock and roll, which is how he makes his living, that the library in De Funiak Springs is the oldest library in Florida continuously operated in the same building, that there is a completely round, spring fed lake in the middle of De Funiak Springs, one of only 2 in the United States, and that he would have to leave us now to return to painting his door.

As he left, Jim made his way slowly down the hill, using his white tipped cane to be sure his path over the stones was clear.  Jim welcomed us and told us a bit about the campground. The campground is owned by his cousin. Jim has worked here for 4 years.

There are maybe 20 RVs on-site. Smaller and older than most we’ve seen at most other campgrounds. Most of the people here are on a monthly lease. Some came here during the COVID outbreak to escape restrictions other states instituted. Some sold houses in other States, planning to come to Florida, buy land and build new. Jim said that hasn’t worked for almost anybody: land is scarce and prices are high. Some came to work on construction in this area: there is a lot of construction, but finding a place to rent is almost impossible. They can live with Jim.

Jim said their rents are more moderate than other campgrounds in the area. He gets calls from people every day wanting to rent a spot. But Jim only rents to people after he meets them. “I am building a quality community with quality people,” he explained. “But there is only one rule: no drama!”  

The group has periodic potlucks together - not so much to save money, but to make personal connections with each other. There is a memorial plaque on the corner of the dock over Jim’s shoulder in the picture below to “Allen,” a Vietnam Veteran, who found a place here where he could walk his dogs and be friendly with people. I’m not sure what else he did, or was capable of doing. But that’s all he needed to do to belong here. Allen died in 2021 at 66 years old. 

Jim has retinitis pigmentosa, an inherited eye disease that is progressively robbing him of his vision. But he is cheerful.  “I put my vision to good use when I had it,” he told me.  “I worked in Alaska for 26 years, and had my boy there. Now, I’m fortunate enough to have a job where I can support my family. My son goes to school, my wife works in De Funiak Springs. My mother lives over in that little cabin there - I can look after her. My Father lived there until he died just before Christmas.”

I don’t write this to ignore the very real challenges - and problems - Jim and the others at Bass Haven face. But I did leave there this morning with a renewed sense that people who face challenges in life (which is all of us) face them better together.

Worm Fiddlin Capital of the World

 

Bonifay, Florida to Defuniak Springs, Florida

Chris:     

 Pic 1:   I've always wanted to go to a Worm Fiddlin'  festival. 

 

(after discovering a missing picture, here's a beautiful one borrowed from https://authenticflorida.com/things-to-do-in-defuniak-springs/)

Pic 2:  We are in Defuniak Springs, cutest town ever.  The spring fed lake in the center of town  forms a complete circle.   We rode our bikes around the lake many times.  

Pics 3,4:  The Defuniak Library is the oldest continuously operating library in the state of Florida and people come from all over to see the lake right beside the beautiful library.   We got a nice tour by library staff.

Pic 5:  Riding around the lake.

Hard lesson learned today:  when stopping on a rural country road to use the outdoor facilities don't plant your right foot in an anthill.

Perspective

Chris:  There is a corn nut on the floor of the bathroom in the most beautiful hotel I have ever stayed in .  The underside of the toilet is dirty. 

But perspective is everything .  With no campgrounds close by we found a cheap motel in Bonifay, Florida.  There are about 40 rooms here and the very nice owner says that he only rents four of the rooms to wayfarin’ strangers like us.  The rest are permanent residents who reside here full time.  They amble around the courtyard and their belongings spill out into the sidewalk. 

That made me think of some of the big houses I rode past yesterday set way back off the road.  Everyone who lives on my road could comfortably live in one of those home with bedrooms to spare.  If you lived there you could decide to go north for the summer and never leave your home.  Can you imagine the cleaning bill on that place?  You could get your 10,000 steps a day in just by walking to the west wing. 

I have a lot of time on the bike to think deep thoughts.  I don’t play music because I have a thing for listening to birds sing.  And I sing.  Yesterday I sang my way through the Beatles, Willy Nelson, CCR, Dolly Parton, nursery rhymes and so many hymns.  And I thought about the ingredients that give a song long lasting “shelf value” to put it in book terms.  I wonder what someone will be singing 50 years from now when they’re biking across the Southern Tier of America.  The songs that last and cross generations are the ones that are easy to sing along with.  Which is why I can’t understand why they don’t play choral music at the Super Bowl halftime show or something that we could all sing along with.  The positive effects of singing on the brain are proven by research.  Look it up.  I can’t explain everything to you.. I really want to post a picture of that corn nut on the bathroom floor but I hear my mother:  “Chris-TEEN.  Don’t be so crude”.

Instead I’ll post a picture of a lovely river that runs through the cute little town of Marianna, Florida.  I wanted the locals to think I was appreciating their town by stopping to take a pic but in truth I had made it to the top of the bridge and was so winded I needed a break so I played tourist for a moment.

Photographs

David: This trip consists of many moments of indecision for me. As I drive the support van through back country roads, images are constantly passing by that I wish I had a photo of. A photo of beauty so I could remember it. A striking visual. Something I’d like to share here with you.

Most of the time I don’t stop. Partly because the thing I want to photograph is now 100 yards behind me and I’d have to turn around and go back. Partly because I don’t know if the person who owns the house I want to photograph wants me to photograph it.

Sometimes I question myself. Why do I think this is memorable enough to record it?

Many middle class and upper class homes in the Florida Panhandle have elaborate gates and built up brick pillars at the end of their drives facing the road. Most times there is also a fence around the property, but sometimes there is only the front gate and pillars. I wonder what all the fences are about?  And the gates? Trying to recreate lost glory? Keeping out wild life? Trying to keep out other people?

It seems strange to me, and therefore, worth taking a picture of. But what does that say to the homeowner?

There’s a different feeling when it comes to taking pictures of people. Several days ago I spent almost 2 hours in conversation with Mr. Charlie, who was selling boiled peanuts along the road. His cousin was with him. We didn't become friends in 2 hours. But he did share observations about his life. I shared observations about mine. I learned a whole lot about life in Northern Florida, economics, politics, and race relations from Mr Charlie. I wish I had a photograph of him, for my own record, and to share it with you.

But whenever I thought about asking him if I could take a picture, it didn’t feel right. It felt like it would change the connection between us. We weren’t friends, but I hadn’t treated him like an object, and he hadn’t acted like one. To ask to take his picture seemed to me like it would change that. And I valued the quality of the connection we had made more than I valued a picture.

Today I read this article at this link about Susan Sontag.  She talks about this dynamic with $64 words I don’t have access to. Enjoy.

https://theexaminedlife.org/library/on-photography

50.2 miles from Snead Florida to Bonifay Florida

Chris: I bet that when you think of the Florida panhandle you don’t think of rolling hills. I never did either. Until today. I bet they’re pretty from a car or a home. I wouldn’t know. Curse words were uttered. 

 I rode past beautiful cattle and horse farms. Two kindly strangers inquired if I needed help when I was stopped for a water break. 

 A man turning out on a road in front of me yelled “don’t worry darlin’. I won’t hit you”. Down the road a ways we met up again at a gas station and without any preamble he told me that research shows that dogs are as smart as five-year-old children but his dog was smarter than the average. I didn’t tell him that mine is too. He asked if I was just riding around the neighborhood. When I told him my destination he gasped, made the sign of the cross, got in his truck and drove off. 

I biked through cotton growing country with fields of cotton, a town called Cottondale and tufts of cotton blowing by the side of the road. Which made me think of fabric and my sewing machine. And then I felt sad. And then I felt even sadder when I biked right past a penny and couldn’t stop to pick it up. 

David makes sure I carb load before and after biking. I think that might be the most beautiful sentence I’ve ever written.

Change

David:

One of the questions in my mind as we prepared to bike across the Florida Panhandle was how the history of the Civil War would be portrayed. 

I lived in Blountsown, Florida in 1978, doing carpentry work to make tuition money for college. Blountstown is in the northern Panhandle.  It is "deep South." Leroy, a co-worker who hailed from Blountstown, referred to me as a damnyankee.  One word.  A younger co-worker, also from Blountstown, told me that for many of the older people, the Civil War was not over.  But that was 45 years ago. I wondered what changes there might be, especially in light of the movement to remove Civil War era monuments in many States and Cities?

I got a small glimpse of some of that during a morning stroll through the downtown of Madison, Florida. I discovered it's not as easy as taking down a monument.

Madison has a wealth of preserved and restored homes from the Civil War era. The plaques in front of each house give the history of the original owner. In most cases, that includes their service in the Civil War. The name of the County next door comes from a man from Madison who lost his life in a pivotal Civil War battle. The conference center downtown served as a Confederate Hospital during the War.  The history of men from Madison who served in the Civil War is woven throughout the natural and built architecture of the town, and region.

There is, of course, a statue in the center of the park in the center of town honoring the men from the town who fought in the Civil War.  There is also a plaque marking the site of the Blockhouse built to protect women, children and old people "in the threatening period of 1835-1842."  That threatening period was the time of the "Seminole Indian War," and it is true that the Seminole Nation did not take kindly to the efforts to eradicate and relocate them. The last sentence of the marker reads, "This marker will remind succeeding generations of their priceless heritage."  Which makes the link between "heritage" and "heinous actions" quite clear.  Also muddy.  Because the Seminole War was not carried out by the Confederacy, it was carried out by the United States.  Just as there are statues to the confederate soldiers, there are statues to men from Madison who fought in subsequent wars that our country fought.  Honor and dishonor are allocated by the winners.

As I made my way around the park, I also came to a monument that stunned me, a monument erected in 1996, "Dedicated to the former slaves of Madison County, their supporters, and the unsung heroes who gave their prayers, blood, sweat and tears to help make our community what it is today."  There is as well a monument to David Dukes, a young man from Madison, who was a pivotal figure in the Civil Rights struggle.  https://www.greenepublishing.com/david-dukes-madisons-civil-rights-leader/

It was a morning that deepened my understanding of the complexity of history, and the changes that do come.

Tony

 David:

Tony is from France. His mother loves the United States. she gave her children what she considered American names. It was on her bucket list to ride bicycle across the United States. But now she is too weak with cancer, and will not be able to ever make the ride.

So Tony is riding for her. He is sharing his position on GPS with her so she can watch his progress from Miami to Los Angeles.

Travel safely, Tony!

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Built for Strength, Not Speed

Chris: Occasionally I see other bikers and they zip around me with their long, lean body builds.   David reminds me that I come from sturdy Swiss German peasant stock and that i am strong.  I fail to see the advantage of that in this situation.

On the road between Monticello Florida and Tallahassee

Chris: 

Pic 1. Drive through prayer line

Pic 2: the springtime colors are brilliant. 

Pic 3, 4 and 5 : mine won’t be the fastest bike ride across the country but without a doubt it’s the most pampered. Anne and David found me on the road to Tallahassee and not only provided a tasty lunch but served me in the car while I warmed up before moving on. Anne biked with me for the next 10 miles before turning back. It’s so nice to have the company and talk and laugh as we bike, taking note of what we are seeing along the way. We met a guy from France biking solo from Miami to los Angelo. Doing this bike trip might be one of my dumber ideas but doing it by myself? I must have been totally insane to consider it. Sometimes I need to be saved from myself.