Week One: 230 miles: Winter Park to Fernandina Beach, Florida (4/10-4/16)

It took us two years, but we made it back for what Rob has called “Unfinished Business.”

Our first challenge was to get back to Orlando, where we left off on March 17, 2020, throwing our bikes in a rental van and driving north, back to our home in Madbury, New Hampshire. I truly believe that the last-minute decision to drive home rather than fly – our original plan – likely saved our lives, as so many people at that time were coming off of cruise ships and boarding planes and nobody was wearing a face covering.

After exploring our options it seemed the easiest way to get us and our bikes to Orlando was to go back exactly the way we ended – rent a car one way.

After returning our car to the Orlando airport we enjoyed sharing Barbara and Andy’s lazy Saturday routine of a visit to the local farmers’ market, hard seltzer drinks on the front lawn at noon, followed by burgers on the grill. The afternoon was no more strenuous. I took a nap.

We were on the road Sunday morning before 11 a.m. and, after 40 miles we arrived to a warm welcome, at the home of our Warm Showers hosts, Carol and Karl in Titusville.

As so often happens with Warm Showers, we arrived as strangers and left as friends. After dinner Karl and Carol took us on a drive to the Cape Canaveral National Seashore, then we stopped at their favorite ice cream place. The evening was topped off with a game of Mexican Train Dominoes at their next-door neighbors’. When Carol wrote her Warm Showers profile she said that she is an early-to-bed person. Not during our visit.

We’ve never begun a bike trip so hopelessly out of shape. It’s hard to train in the wet windy cold weather of late March/early April New England.

We were counting on flat riding when we planned our second day of 60 miles after only two twenty-mile days of training. Fortunately the terrain met our expectations.

Following Carol’s advice we got on a bike path that ran alongside Route 1. But then we didn’t pay attention when we started chatting with a cyclist who rode alongside us and didn’t bother investigating when we could no longer see the highway. We had a pleasant ride along a quiet paved bike path that took us five miles out of our way, inland. But it connected to another bike path that would bring us to where we needed to be along the coast.

After 25 miles we stopped for lunch at one of the benches along the trail. Not long after a very large cyclist came along and asked if we minded if he stopped, as it was his turnaround point. We made room for him. The small talk worked around to alligators and he said he’d seen one not too far back and Rob said he’d heard that you better not take a nap next to a pond where a gator might live. The cyclist said, “I seen a Mexican laying out on a blanket near here, his girlfriend sitting beside him. I came by a few days later they were gone.”

I pondered that, while the conversation drifted elsewhere. I couldn’t leave it alone.

I said, “I’m curious. How did you know he was Mexican?”

“I don’t know. He was dark complexioned. I didn’t talk to him or nothing.”

I said. “There are plenty of Americans who have dark skin.”

I was still pondering this as we got back on our bikes. I could have said, “Don’t you know Americans who have dark skin?” But very likely he doesn’t.

After 40 miles we got back to the coast and the Adventure Cycling route. We were making good time and neither of us needed to stop so we just kept cruising along without looking for a place to take a break. But when we did need some nourishment – we agreed that milkshakes were in order; it was hot – we couldn’t find any nice local place on the water and after riding inland for a stretch we found a Burger King. It does in a pinch.

We made good time and arrived at our Warm Showers destination shortly after 5. Howard and Joy were great. About our age, both retired, avid cyclists, we had a lot in common and enjoyed getting to know one another. Before we’d even unpacked they offered to let us stay in a condo they owned on the beach 40 miles north. We said yes.

I was particularly impressed with both Howard and Joy’s generous spirits. They take in every cyclist who contacts them, even those with sketchy online profiles. They help the latter clean up their profiles. Whenever they see a cycle tourist on the road they invite them to spend the night. They fix up junk bikes for homeless people. Howard is a woodworker and when I asked to buy one of his creations, he told me to just give him $15 for shipping, said he didn’t need any more than that. I said he did.

In the morning Joy escorted us for the first 15 miles so that she could show us the way back to the Adventure Cycling route to avoid both backtracking and riding on busy roads. After she left us we came to Route A1A at Flagler Beach with lovely beachfront riding.

We looked forward to our arrival after 20 miles at the Java cafe that Joy and Howard both raved about, where they met. But, sadly, it was closed. No worries, we’d find something else soon enough. But we didn’t.

We passed by some hugely enormous residences that were too big to be single family homes. But they were. I checked. Only one front door, one two-car garage and a single-car garage, likely for the golf cart. Then a sign saying “A Private Coastal Golf Community. For People With Lots of Money.” Not really. Just the first part.

At almost thirty miles, and lunch time, we came to a small diner, also closed. The proprietor suggested we try the Atlantic Grill, just a mile down the road. It was very luxurious, part of the Hammock Beach Golf Resort and Spa. We felt very rich as we enjoyed crab soup and other delights while sitting outside overlooking the golf course and private beach.

By the way, in this case a hammock is not something you hang from a tree to sleep in. According to definition no. 2 in Mirriam Webster, a hammock is “a fertile area in the southern U.S. and especially Florida that is usually higher than its surroundings and that is characterized by hardwood vegetation and deep humus-rich soil.”

We checked the rates to stay here. It’s pricey, but not out of reach. Just in case you golfers out there are tempted.

Then 10 relaxed miles to Crescent Beach and Howard and Joy’s condo. First to the pool to cool off and relax with a good read. Then a walk on the  beach. Paradise. 

With the sun rising as late as 7 a.m., how could we not start the day without a walk (Rob) or run (me) on the beach? 

We were on the road by 8:30 for a leisurely 13-mile ride into St. Augustine, the oldest city in the United States. We had a reservation at the Best Western Bayside, which was across the street from the Castillo de San Marcos. We arrived before 10 am. Our room wasn’t ready; we locked our bikes outside the motel office and went off to explore. We visited the Colonial Quarter and the Castillo de San Marcos and learned about St. Augustine’s history.

Did you know that, from 1693 until 1763 (when the British took over Florida) slaves who escaped to Florida could remain free as long as they became Catholic and pledged allegiance to the Spanish King? 

During our travels, bicycling the perimeter of the United States, Rob and I have quickly come to realize how geocentric our sense of history is. Growing up in the northeast our U.S. history has all been about the British who came first to New England, Plymouth and all that. Settlements elsewhere were taught in school as an afterthought.

Did you know that the first St. Patrick’s Day parade in North America took place in 1601, 19 years before the landing of the Pilgrims? It was a Irish priest attached to the Spanish fort who did it.

The Castillo is made out of coquino stone – tiny seashells compressed into limestone over thousands of years. Once quarried it had to “season” for two years. It turned out that coquino stone is impermeable to any potential attack. Canonballs were absorbed by the stone. At night, when the shelling had stopped, the Spanish soldiers would remove the cannonballs, heat them up, and send them back to the British warships, setting them on fire.

The fort has stood for over 325 years.

We had a most amazing dinner at the Casa Reina Taqueria, just down the street from our hotel. I ordered the Tequila Lime Grouper: “Paneed grouper with tequila lime cream sauce, pico, cilantro and fresh guacamole. Served with black beans and white rice.” 

My first forkful, of the beans and rice, took me by surprise. Never have I had beans and rice that tasted so great; it took me a while to even get to the fish, which was equally delicious. Rob ordered a honey glazed salmon that he enjoyed as well. Neither di our ur desserts disappoint. Rob had flan de queso (velvety cream cheese custard topped with a caramel glaze and orange zest) that just melted in your mouth. I ordered churros with a Mexican dark chocolate dipping sauce that had a spicey kick to it.

Thursday was a leisurely 40-mile riding day, with the wind at our backs and flat riding along a quiet stretch of A1A.  We rode through the Grana Polomato Matanzas Research Reserve and through very rich neighborhoods, so rich we couldn’t even see many of the oceanfront homes set back from long driveways and carefully tended landscaping. 

We stopped for lunch on a grassy spot next to an inlet with houses on either side where Rob thought he saw an alligator but it only moved when the wind blew so we decided it was a lawn ornament or beach toy that had blown off someone’s lawn. We stopped at Joe’s Clam Shack in Jacksonville Beach where Rob had a beer, I had a couple glasses of sweet tea, and we ordered some fries. Even though the place was practically empty, we sat at the bar to avoid a half hour wait for a table, due to short staffing. 

The St. John’s River Ferry in Mayport was waiting for us when we arrived. It cost a dollar and took about ten minutes, our first ferry ride of this trip. Then just a couple miles to the Huguenot Park campground where we had a site reserved on the river. 

It was a lovely site and we looked forward to sitting in our chairs relaxing with a beer. Until the no-see-ums found us. We covered ourselves with bug netting and insect repellent and made it through dinner okay. Then we seemed to escape them when we went for a walk to the beach as the sun was setting. The dunes and the seagrasses were breathtaking in the early evening light.

Given the swarming no-see-ums at our campground, which was perfect but for them, we didn’t even try to cook breakfast. We packed up as quickly as we could and were on the road before 7:30.

We had beautiful riding on paved bike trails through state parks, past birding sites, and over three long bridges, on our way to what we hoped would be a delicious breakfast. Which we did eventually find, but not without serious searching, as the first woman who recommended a place didn’t have the name or location correct.

Two years ago, after picking up a rental minivan at the Orlando airport we stopped over for a night at the home of Rob’s cousin Larry and his wife Sue. The difficult circumstance of having to cut our adventure short was softened by the warm welcome they gave us. We looked forward to visiting them again, this time arriving on our bikes as we’d originally planned to do.

After 30 miles we arrived at their home in Fernandino Beach to a welcome just as warm as it was two years ago. A round of mini-golf (I got three holes-in-one, Rob got two) and dinner out topped off a great day.

We spent a lazy Saturday with Larry and Sue. They cooked us a breakfast of blueberry pancakes, bacon, spice cake, and fresh fruit. Then I worked on my blog while Rob tried out a few of Larry’s guitars. (He has a roomful.) After lunch we drove to Amelia Island and went for a long walk on the beach then Rob and I went for a swim. (It was too cold for Larry and Sue, the newly minted Floridians.) 

The excitement of the afternoon was watching a van get towed out of the sand. The driver thought that his two-wheel drive vehicle could make it through the soft sand. The van was in up to the top of its tires. The driver’s wallet was $200 lighter after a jeep winched him out.

Tomorrow we will leave Florida. While Florida has a reputation as being unsafe for bicyclists, we have not found that to be true. The bicycling infrastructure where we’ve ridden, both this trip and in 2020, has been impressive. Lots of bike lanes where they need to be and signs to share the roads; wide shoulders and many miles of paved bike trails.

Overall, motorists have been pretty considerate. In one case when we were stopped at a light the driver next to us asked if we were turning or going straight.

WEEK ONE STATISTICS

• 230 miles; average of 38 miles/riding day or 33 miles/day overall
• 1 day off; 0 flat tires; 1 ferry ride
• Nights spent:
  • 3 Warm Showers
  • 1 Campground
  • 1 Hotel/Motel/B&B
  • 2 Family/Friends

For more details about our first week on the road see the Daily Travel Log page.