US 90

There's a significance to stopping in Van Horn Texas. It is the western terminus of US 90, the road I started my journey on. As I walk towards the Hotel El Capitan, on the corner of this western terminus, I do feel this sense of connection to this route way. Sure it's just a sign marker with the number 90 on it. But I started at its beginning in Jacksonville Beach Florida and it took me through the panhandle and through so many states. And now I'm at the end. This is quite something to me.

The Message

Reading the comments of support from others has been very humbling and inspiring. I feel that it is therefore necessary to clarify why I am putting myself through such a mind-numbing, body-numbing task of a 2,000 + mile bike ride in the dead of winter. It's the least I can offer to those who have supported me and encouraged me on my journey.

I had this idea three years ago. I don't recall what inspired it, maybe it was from a show I watched or an article I read. But this idea, this task of biking coast-to-coast became too tantalizing to ignore. A close friend of my mom, Dan Squiller, had a conversation over the phone with me about his trip across the country. His story inspired me, but more importantly it gave a realism to my dream. Dan's accomplishment showed me that this was possible.

I had no real cycling experience, aside from neighborhood riding. I was in fair shape and decided to brand myself as a cyclist to get closer to this dream. I upgraded my bicycles gradually, finally to an entry aluminum road bike I bought in Miami a year ago in January 2014. It was around this time that I began to truly question my motives for the ride. Was there a purpose? Why California? What was with this infatuation with California? Originally it was to escape from Florida, a place I called home 22 years. I wanted to see mountains, see new places, explore parts of this country I would normally just fly over. It was a combination of many personal motives.

And then I thought about charity. Many people ride for charities and causes, right? Cancer, human rights, animal rights, even cannabis rights. Perhaps I could attach a charitable component to this ride. But I needed to have my heart in it. So why not Tourette's Syndrome? I was diagnosed at an early age, and now my sister has TS. It has, whether I were to acknowledge it or not, affected my life to some degree. Bullying in school which stemmed from it, anxiety to conceal my tics during tests and lectures. I had been private about my TS, but I saw this privacy as a waste. A waste of a message of triumph, perseverance and confidence. It was not my goal to be a hero, but rather a messenger. In my quest across this great nation I could leave a trail of dialogue, awareness and encouragement. Dialogue I feel is the most important. For children with TS, I saw this as the most valuable of lessons. I had an extremely difficult time with my TS as a child, and at the very least I hope to offer them this inspiring message of expectation. Expect to achieve more than you can fathom. You are not defined by TS. Your tics are not who you are, and they are not who I am.

I am living my dream. You can too.

Day Twenty-Nine: "Ride Like The Wind" (30 January) 68 mi

Lois and I got an early start to head out to Van Horn and we had breakfast in the room. It was overcast with a light drizzle but we knew that if we could get there to Van Horn would be okay to take a rest day when the real storms hit. Interstate 10 and was fine to ride on. The shoulder and road were mostly smooth so I didn't really have to worry about flat tires today. We were expecting a tailwind so we did not have to put in as much effort. At many times during the day we were gliding, roaring by the scenery at 21 mph. Sure there were some mountain passes we had to climb but with that tell when pushing us along all was fine. And then I have a bit of a problem with my break. I thought "oh no not again". As it turns out it was just a tiny piece of metal on the rim that was rubbing against the brake. Nothing that a little scraping off with a knife couldn't fix. We also were pulled over by a Texas trooper who had received calls we were on the road (which occasionally we were due to poor shoulder). He was very cool and understanding. Once we got to Van Horn we settled in at the Days Inn. Had dinner at the beautiful Hotel El Capitan, which was overpriced. But at least it was nice to look at. Rest day in Van Horn on the 31st.

Day Twenty-Eight: "Texas Mountain Majesty" (29 January) 51 mi

It was a very windy start to day 28 of Bike Across America. Lois and I headed out stopping at Walmart where I use the bike pump to get a good air pressure in that back tire after all the flats I changed yesterday. We then proceeded west on Interstate 10 heading towards Balmorhea, Texas. On the way, about maybe 4 miles was when I got my first glimpse of mountains. It was a very impressive sight but seeing the mesas and seeing the hills before it was gradual, it didn't come out of nowhere per se. So being that it was maybe 50-51 mile day we took a lot of pictures. I don't remember where we were, what mileage but we were stopped by these two men who had a truck that had been waiting for us on the side of I-10. Paul and Rus were traveling back from Houston, Texas to their home in Prescott, Arizona and Rus had biked across the country before. Seeing us they had pulled over and offered me a Gatorade. It was great to see two people show such kindness. In an otherwise unremarkable day this will certainly be something I'll remember. We arrived in Balmorhea, Texas, which is basically a ghost town, and got some Mexican food. It's off to Van Horn, Texas tomorrow.

Day Twenty-Seven: "Century" (28 January) 107 mi

Started off the day pretty early, left with Lois before the sun came up. We had decided to go to Fort Stockton, Texas which would be a 107 mile trip. This was to be my first century ride and I had a little trouble sleeping that night. But I had faith in myself and I knew I would be able to do it if I just paced myself and got a good rhythm during the day. That changed pretty quickly. 10 miles in, right after the sun rose, I got my first flat tire of the trip. I just knew that would happen on my first attempt of the century ride. Frustrated, I fumbled with the tires as Lois helped me and then she went on her way as I put the wheel back on the bike. So I continued along on the shoulder of interstate 10. Another 10 miles go by, and I hear the infamous hiss. My second flat. This time I was prepared. I have my tirelevers in my back pocket as well as my pump in my back pocket to save me time. This one took about five minutes. Instead of bungeeing on the sandals I just ditched them on the side of the road, so that freed up a little weight. I continued on maybe 15 more miles until, you guessed, flat number three. This one caused me to go into a hysterical meltdown. I was incensed at the idea that this trip was to be derailed by three flat tires in just two hours. I knew that I could sulk all I wanted but it wasn't going to change the situation. So I decided it was time to ditch the shoulder and ride right on the road, despite the breath of law-enforcement on my back. I rode along, anxious of the next flat. It never came. I covered 107 miles, having to adjust my time in changing when I would stop to have a break. But that didn't matter anymore. I made it to Fort Stockton, Texas.

Day Twenty-Six: "Mi amigo el sol" (27 January) 36 mi

I had the luxury of leaving late this morning and even though it was chilly out it wasn't as bad as the days before. I gobbled down some cereal at the motel, the Economy Inn, but then I decided to get a breakfast burrito at a local joint. It was a mother and a daughter and it was their kitchen and they cooked up a nice but small breakfast burrito for me with eggs and potatoes. So with that I headed west on one of the ranch roads next to interstate 10 and knew I could take my time. Ozona is only 36 miles away and I figured I'd stop and take a lot of pictures. The problem was, there was nothing interesting enough to really take a picture of. So I continue on, stopped for a few times to get some snacks to grab some good photos here and there. But one of the things that happened was eight deer now, before it was only one, raced alongside me behind a fence. It was a sight to see for sure as I played "A Horse With No Name" on my iPod. It was a magical moment one of those flashes in the pan of surrealism in mysticism. It was my gateway into the Wild West. So then I continued on, reaching Ozona. Gives me a lot of time to think, which could be a bad thing. The other reason, well there were two reasons, that I stopped in Ozona was for one the next town's 50 miles away so that wasn't going to happen. And it gave Lois a chance to catch up to me so we can split the motel cost, plus it'll be nice to have her around.

Another interesting thing that happened today was that I seem to have crossed into the Great Plains, really unexpectedly. I went up this slight incline and then suddenly...flat! It was as if I was in Florida all over again.  Add to that that despite it being the dead of winter, it got really hot today and I was at my bare minimum of layers.

Day Twenty-Five: "Dead or Alive" (26 January) 58 mi

I really did not want to go on the road this morning. For one it was really cold out and the place I stayed last night was actually really nice for a motel. But I knew that like every day before the first hour was always the hardest. So I muscled through the first hour and sure enough it got much easier as my body warmed up and became acclimated. Soon I was heading on the service road of I 10 and then later went on I 10 if only for short while because again the debris. It was mostly gravel but still it just was annoying to ride on even though the service road was bumpy and rough, but there I didn't have to contend with debris. Moving along along the ranch roads I saw a lot of dead animals, mostly deer. It made me seriously think if I had seen more dead animals that alive animals on this trip. I guess you could say I'm in the sort of death valley really. Just seeing the mangled bodies of deer over and over again you just hope to see something alive, something beautiful like a bunny or something. It was a short day, I'm not going to pretend it wasn't. But when I entered Sonora I gave my typical fist bump in the air. Every day is a victory.

Day Twenty-Four: "Cactus Country" (25 January) 65 mi

Left this morning at a reasonable time after finally making a waffle that wasn't resembling scrambled eggs. Continued west on US 290 and immediately hit the hills again, good grief, but they weren't as bad this time around. One of the things I noticed yesterday after going through wine country was that cacti started to appear. Today they were everywhere, bushels and bunches of them and it really was incredible to see that change in the landscape. Also they sure do love their venison here in Texas. That being said I saw a young deer, a fawn, and we must've race together for a quarter of a mile. I was chasing her as she galloped along the fence unable to escape the road. It was a moment like that and many others with nature and wildlife that I'll really never forget. I finally reached the interstate (10) and I stayed on the service roads parallel. I did go on the interstate briefly just to give it a go and see if it if it was okay to ride on (it's legal to here, by the way). The traffic wasn't the problem: the debris on the shoulder was. So I took a back road that led me to Junction and got some great views along the way. So I'm spending the night in Junction on my way to Sonora, Tx tomorrow as I continue along the interstate. Probably going to stick to the service roads though.

Day Twenty-Three: "King of the Hill" (24 January) 77 mi

I left from a bike shop near downtown Austin after buying some extra tubes for the very rough roads ahead in West Texas. John had met me to go ride with  for maybe half an hour. He stuck with me until just we got outside of Austin and then he broke off. It was great having him as a tour guide as well as seeing my friends Leah and Drew. I've known Drew and Leah my entire life and when I had found out they were in Austin and that John, one of my Instagram followers, was there it just made sense to go to Austin. So right after I left Austin I get into the thick of hill country and immediately start doing the steepest ascents of the trip.  I passed 1000 feet today and it just felt incredible being that high up and I got some pictures as well, but the hills really slowed me down so I had to play catch-up. Right around Johnson City, Texas it flattened out and before I knew it I was in wine country. I was thinking "wine country?" I had no idea Texas had wine country. Well regardless it doesn't matter since I don't drink. By the way I'm now in Fredericksburg, Texas which I say is like the Aspen of Texas. Very wealthy, a lot bed-and-breakfast places, a lot of German restaurants. It's a nice area and unfortunately I'll be leaving out tomorrow set out to Junction with sunny skies and cool temperatures on my way to the Southwest.

Day Twenty: "Lost in Austin" (21 January) 80 mi

This day was the best thus far for several reasons. First the weather: cloudy, light drizzle and fog. It's ideal for cycling: no worsening tan lines and there's a mist in the air that cools you. I headed down US 290, also known as US 190's cousin, passing through Giddings and Bastrop on my way to Austin, Texas. I'll skip ahead to the fun stuff. I arrived to my childhood friend/best friend's apartment in Austin just before he left for work at the local restaurant Ramen Tatsu-Ya. It was great seeing Drew as well as his sister Leah who I have known both of them for basically my entire life. About a week ago was when I found out they lived in Austin and I had no idea they did and I think that solidified my decision to visit ATX. What is funny is that one of my Instagram followers also lives in Austin. John, former Floridian now marathon runner/Texan, had reached out to me on Instagram and asked me to meet up and I told him I was heading to the Ramen restaurant and I offered for him to tag along. He is a really cool guy, we have a lot in common and he was so generous enough to to give me a tour of town which I'm so grateful he did.  On top of that he works at a local grocery store and prepared me a goodie bag of vitamins, supplements and protein bars for my trip. Who does that? Talk about a Texas welcome! I better be careful or else I might get sucked into the weird hole that is Austin, Texas. Spending the night at Drew's and will hopefully do a tour of Austin by myself tomorrow. Will be very rainy tomorrow so I'll try to stay inside and dry. Looking to spend two days here.

Losing myself

Yesterday on the road from Huntsville to Carmine I finally began to talk to myself again. I really missed talking to myself and this was a way for me to help understand the new scenery around me. Texas had changed very quickly from forests and lakes to grasslands and ranches and I think it was the scenery that made me want to talk again. Because if you look at the same thing over and over your mind just gets numb to your surroundings. I do enjoy talking to myself but sometimes it just isn't of high priority. 

One of the things that I thought about a lot yesterday was this idea this concept of losing myself. It's something that a lot of people talk about when they go on journeys like this. Like to lose yourself only to find yourself again, this idea of self discovery in this mystical adventure. I think people interpret that as going crazy and just detract yourself from everyone you know, basically kind of a parody of Castaway. I don't believe that to be the case and I think I can lose myself in pretty safe parameters like yesterday. I kind of just relaxed even though I was going up the steep elongated hills with exhaustion; I was calm I was poised and I experienced some euphoria in this new beautiful scenery. And I do experience strong emotions when I talk to myself and no offense to anyone that chooses to ride with me, but I feel that I am at my best on these sorts of adventures when I'm by myself. I feel this ability to fully express who I am at my best and at my worst and that's the idea of the trip, is to get the good the bad and the ugly and I really like seeing the ugly because you don't see the ugly all the time especially when you're around people. I just think that this trip has more dimensions than even I can fathom and even people who've done this before have fathome.d There, not to sound too corny, but there are these intangible dimensions to the trip. And that's really why I think I am enjoying this.

Day Nineteen: "Dialogue" (20 January) 88 mi

Woke at 6 and my host Jennie whipped up a delicious breakfast of scrambled egg tacos and jam covered rolls. I had decided before I went to bed that I'd go for 88-89 miles today to better manage my next two days of mileage. That night before I left to head out to Carmine I visited Sam Houston State University which is right across the street. What a beautiful campus and what an interesting town Huntsville was. It truly was the pleasant surprise of the trip thus far. I knew very little about Sam Houston before I visited Huntsville except maybe for the name sake of the fourth largest city in the United States, but now I do know a lot about Sam Houston. Jennys gallery and house, funny enough, was right across the street from the final home of Sam Houston. I cancelled with my host in Bryan and went southwest to Carmine. Stayed on the shoulder mostly as it was relatively smooth (shocking). Also went through Brenham, home to Blue Bell Ice Cream!

But I didn't stop for ice cream, as much as I wanted to. Instead I just got another protein bar at a gas station. How pathetic. 

It turns out my host Carol lives off a gravel road so I had to walk up the bike, but it was worth it because her property was absolutely gorgeous overlooking cow pastures and beautiful forests. She had also made a tray of different foods including some chicken and dumplings rice and a half of a whole cake. I ate it all in just this reckless, caveman-like manner. She's been hosting for 10 years and she has a bunkhouse in a shed that has some beds a little kitchen and some Wi-Fi, so I cooked breakfast that morning before I left for the start of day 20.

Next two days

These next two days have been tricky to plan for mainly because of the bad weather expected on Thursday. I am currently in Huntsville, Texas and then on my way to Austin. The problem is that cold front is coming in Thursday and is expected to bring a lot of rain. It would seem ideal to get to Austin in three days but if I want to beat the rain I'm going to have to knock out a lot of miles. So instead of going to Bryan, Texas I will most likely go to Carmine, Texas and then to Austin to split up the miles.

Day Eighteen: "1,000" (19 January) 45 mi

Said farewell to Lois this morning after a hug and a brief exchange. I do not know if our paths will cross again but that's the beauty of a trip like this, even how we met. She went south to Conroe while I headed on my nemesis, my antithesis, US 190 to Huntsville. Around Onalaska I was pulled over by a police officer who informed me that they had received calls that I was riding in the middle of the road. I assured her I was not riding in the middle of the road and she was very understanding, particularly because of how rough the shoulders are around Texas. She was extremely polite and I think just pulled me over for my safety and well-being which is always appreciated. So on I continued for about 3 miles before stopping to celebrate my 1000 mile mark with a protein bar on the side of the road. It was a milestone I had to acknowledge because it's going to be another 1000 before I can celebrate again! Passed through some beautiful forests, including Sam Houston National Forest. Now I'm on the porch in Huntsville Texas relaxing in the seventies° weather. Lois, I wish you the best. Happy trails.

What goes on in my head

I thought about today on my ride what really goes on in my head. During this ride I'm supposed to experience some profound change or have these deep thoughts of deep meaning. But this has simply not happened or at least not to the expected degree. When I'm out riding my thoughts are not poetic and they're not profound. Day after day of the daily grind of riding has turned my thoughts into incomprehensible mush and gibberish. 

I rarely talk to myself anymore and when I do it's not some motivation or pseudo philosophy. I don't berate myself anymore, I don't coach myself anymore. For all intents and purposes I am brain-dead when I am riding. The deeper meanings behind this ride rear themselves at the end of the day when I look at the route that I took and see how far I've come. 

I think of that red line that shows my route which curves and twists similar to that "–" on a tombstone between your date of birth and death that people always say is important. Because even if I try to look at this ride as sterile of the emotion and experience and culture, they will always be there waiting for me. Every day is a small victory and I do not think about this trip in the long term. That doesn't mean I don't think about what I'm doing. And when I do think about California, I get a big smile on my face.

An Ode to US 190

Calculated thrusts of air

Through my mouth and out it

Churn my loins up steep

Hills and past scampering

Hounds cheering me on

In their own tongue

You disappoint me with

Your speckles of smooth comfort

And the constant assault 

Of rugged rough road

Grinding my tires and teeth

Patched and tattered you

Are like a used gas

Station bathroom

My only option where

I must close my senses

And accept the terms

Day Seventeen: "The Hills Kill Thighs" (18 January) 65 mi

I will admit to patting myself on the back for the title. Lois and I left our surprisingly spacious room in Jasper and hit, you guessed it, the disheveled US 190 towards Livingston. We went through beautiful Texas forest country and crossed the absolutely stunning B.A. Steinhagen Lake. I blasted "When The Levee Breaks" as we coasted through forests and alongside crystal lakes, a perfect tone to a sunny, clear morning. The temperature climbed as did the elevation. The hills took their toll on me, I must confess. Hills? Pfft. Surely if I could conquer Florida's, Texas would be a piece of cake. Not quite. It's not so much their steepness; they are elongated slopes which show no mercy. By midday I had shed my jacket, revealing the U bike jersey. Got not U throw-ups today, though. Oh well. Stopped in Woodville, Texas for a break and quick lunch (I had packed mine) and Lois had some coffee. It was either I rugged shoulder and smooth road or a smooth shoulder and rugged road, so I alternated between them. It's clear that while the culture is still Southernesque, the landscape is not. I anticipate around Bryan to see an even more drastic change.

I failed to mention I've changed my route once more (likely the last time). I originally was going to be as far north as Dallas, then Waco, and now it's Austin, Texas! I'm stoked to see my childhood friend Drew and his sister this week as well as this hip Seattle of the South. But that's not the main reason: it's to escape the cold dipping south from Canada.

New Mexico is going to be a pain to plan for, thanks to White Sands and a lack of roads.

B.A. Steinhagen Lake

12 miles outside Livingston

Day Sixteen: "Everything's Bigger" (17 January) 54 mi

Left with Lois late, 9 am, this morning and headed west towards Jasper on my friend US 190. Started off strong with a solid tailwind, then came the hunger. I was so hungry this leg, probably since I've burned over 50,000 calories this trip. I went insane when I saw the Texas sign; I had been looking forward to this crossing. State borders mean next to nothing to Lois, but she humored me and took some photos. Got to Jasper early, where I ate to my stomach's delight.

Day Fifteen: "Good Rice" (16 January) 90 mi

Left Opelousas with Lois before 8, with frost on the grass. Got a glimpse of Downtown Opelousas, and still my opinion remains unchanged that it is a hapless hellhole. Continued on the sorry road that is US 190, dodging potholes and getting passed by log trucks. I'm amazed I didn't get a flat on that road. We got to the rice paddy fields near the halfway point, then stopped in Oberlin for lunch at a diner (too greasy, I felt really bad after). 90 miles, my second longest ride ever when we arrived to DeRidder at 4. 

Meal of the day: Fried catfish strips with fries, hushpuppies and cole slaw.

Look Back

I'll add more to my blog posts, so please go back and look at them. This includes pictures, descriptions, et cetera.

Day Fourteen: "Rest" (15 January) 0 mi

Nothing special today, just catching up on blog posts and job applications. Opelousas, Louisiana: you need sidewalks!

Day Thirteen: "Yes, The River Knows" (14 January) 69 mi

Left my splendid host Perry and headed towards Opelousas. Thirteen miles into my ride was when I crossed the mighty Mississippi River. The bridge I crossed at was worth the last two days of mental and emotional hardship and I certainly was emotional crossing it; it is after all the gateway to the west. I rarely experience such a strong reaction to my surroundings, but I succumbed in this case. It was a cold morning, in the 30s, and I had to thaw in a gas station before heading out to cross the bridge. Had a quick Subway lunch in the town of Livonia. Lois had emailed me that we would possibly be meeting up at a Warm Showers host in Opelousas. I ended up meeting her there and we had dinner that night.

Day Twelve: "The Haul" (13 January) 91 mi

I embarked on my longest trip of my life: a 91-92 mile ride to Jackson, Louisiana. Left early and again under a cloudy sky. This whole cloudy thing is getting pretty old. Regardless, I trudged on. Didn't take any pictures, no time to smell the roses; today was strictly business. I stopped in Kentwood at a gas station to finish the frittata Robert had made me for breakfast. Made it to Jackson by sunset. 91 miles, and I needed a break. My host Perry offered me a nice home-cooked meal, a shower and a bed. A tenant who was renting out a room had just arrived that night. He was from Jensen Beach, a fellow Treasure Coast native! Worked for FPL and now is a subcontractor working at Big Cajun near New Roads. I wish your son Clayton the best, John!

Day Eleven: "Mississippi Mud" (12 January) 63 mi

Mississippi was a terrible state to bike in. I actually don't want to write a post on it because of how horrendous it was. Lois went south to New Orleans and so I was on my own heading to Bogalusa, Louisiana (a border selfie was in store, then). I had heard about dogs chasing cyclists on tour in Mississippi, Steve Garufi mentioned it in a video. It's why I have my pepper spray. But I had never been chased or harassed by so many dogs in my life. Coupled with an overcast sky and drizzle it made for a dreadful day. When I got to the border I celebrated that I was finally out of such a terrible state. It was made all the better by my hosts Robert and Marjine. Very interesting people, fantastic hosts. Robert is a hell of a cook, and he whipped up a splendid dinner and breakfast for me.

Day Ten: "Katrina" (11 January) 61 mi

Lois and I headed down to Gulfport and Biloxi on US 90, where we passed the Mississippi border just 8 miles into our trip. It warranted a photo for sure, and what a huge state sign it was. I heard bad things about Mississippi. Don't worry, they're true. We ate at a place called the Grind House and parked our bikes outside, where I leaned mine against some tables. Well one of the employees moved a table, sending my bike crashing and misaligning the front brakes. Needless to say I was incensed; they could have easily asked me to move my bike. So for the remaining 30 miles I had to work twice as hard since the wheel kept rubbing on the brake. I adjusted it at our motel room that night, no big deal.

Actually it was a big deal. I had a mental breakdown that Lois helped me get over. I walked off my aggravation at the Biloxi pier.

During our ride along the coast I saw a lot of empty lots where homes, businesses and churches once were before Hurricane Katrina. It was depressing. You have casinos thriving on the waterfront and still there is a city in ruins around them. And it's been 9 years since Katrina. Wow.

Day Nine: "Mobilians On Bikes" (10 January) 30 mi

Lois and I had a short day, just 18 miles, so we decided to do a little detour to see Mobile Bay. It was a fantastic trip of roughly 30 miles and we met a local cycling club called Mobilians on Bikes. We asked them where a good place to eat was (The River Shack was unfortunately closed) and so we ate at a place called The Boiling Pot for cajun food.

We spent the night with the Wenninger family. Sweetest folks, we had a nice meal and great conversation. Warm Showers has been a true blessing for us.

Day Eight: "An Aussie In Bama" (9 January) 69 mi

I left Will before 9 and got out of Pensacola after a pathetic Subway breakfast. My motivation was down the crapper and I must have been trudging along at 11 mph. My emotions were strong, knowing that in less than an hour I would be out of Florida, my home for 22 years. The scenery was bland, the hills steep, and it looked like just another day of drizzle from a sunless sky. And then I saw a cyclist.

The cyclist, gender I could not tell from afar, was westbound of US90 probably a hundred yards ahead. Bright yellow jacket, two rear panniers! Yes! Panniers: the universal symbol for crazy people and those who like to go far away. I hurried my pace, and she soon saw me. "Are you crossing the country?" I asked. I couldn't hear her response with my face mask on so I just told her we can stop at the border, grab some pictures and have a chat.

She's Lois from Sydney, Australia. Having been on the road for months, crossing Europe and now the U.S. before flying back to Sydney, she's had experiences. She shared them with me as we pedaled on and I shared mine. She left from Savannah, GA and was looking to go to Los Angeles. Where was she stopping tonight? Mobile. She had a motel and we split the cost.

We also met two cyclists coming from Maine east of Mobile. They were on their way to San Diego.

Day Seven: "Panhandling" (8 January) 56 mi

Left Niceville in brutal 21 degree weather and an icy driveway. When I woke up the temperature was 19, but I won't cheat the stats. Libby and Howard gave me a gray fleece to wear (I still have it) and sent me off in the warmest way they could muster. I could not feel my hands the first hour, so I stopped in a Tom Thumb to thaw out. It helped, and before I knew it I was in Navarre Beach. US 98 had a horrible shoulder that was grooved and tattered. That didn't stop the sheriff from telling me to get on it (even though there was no traffic). I obliged, but only when he was in view. It was a 63 or so mile ride along US 98 on the beaches. Got to Pensacola with time to spare before sunset where I spent the night with host Will in a very nice historic neighborhood near downtown. Will had done the cross-country trek before with a friend, whom I also met. A bunch of his buddies came over and we played Cards Against Humanity. It was a nice break from the dread of winter.

Day Six: "Kindness" (7 January) 0 mi

I spent my sixth day in Niceville staying with my hosts Libby and Howard. I had my own room and bathroom and was treated like family. They were beyond hospitable and just lovely people! My mom's friend Gayle joined us most of our time there and took me to Destin and Seaside (The Truman Show House was one of our visits). It was the day I needed after a 90 mile trek. I hadn't been to Destin in years, and it was not shocked to see how much it had changed (mostly because this has been the trend in Florida). Howard, a Vietnam veteran, had the most incredible stories to tell and seeing how the three interacted with each other truly shows the splendor of friendship.

Inside the store where Truman clapped his hands

Day Five: "Running On Empty" (6 January) 90 mi

90 miles. Nine zero. The longest ride of my life. I left the trailer in Blountstown at around 34 degrees, riding on a country road before hitting Highway 20. I could write at length my emotional state and thoughts, but I'll spare you the pity party. I think what made the day worse than the mileage was the lack of scenery change. Pinewoods and occasional open fields. Two towns I passed through (Ebro and Youngstown). 20 became my new loathed number. No longer US 90, my old friend. I had a pathetic lunch of a Quest Bar and a cold chicken salad sandwich from a gas station to celebrate my halfway point of 45 miles. I needed water. Badly. I prayed that just around the corner there would be something to quench my thirst. And there was. Piled up on Gatorade and water in Ebro and headed out. Fast forward and at long last reached Niceville, arriving at my host family's home at 90 miles exactly. I was in shambles, cold and mumbling incoherently. But I did it. And that's all that matters.

Photos:

Right after I left Ebro

First sign of Gulf water

On Highway 20 in Choctaw

Summary of ride

Day Four: "Tallahassee Time Traveler" (5 January) 63 mi

Left Tallahassee around 9:30 and headed south towards downtown and the capitol building. The hills were especially difficult (that means you, Meridian Road at I-10). I took a detour past good old Florida State University with my University of Miami bike jersey on (it's all about the U) then grabbed Subway off Pensacola Street before heading west on Highway 20. The scenery changed to rural rather quickly, and I was amongst state forests and rivers again. Lake Talquin seemed to go on forever, never did see the lake. Not much to write about here, just pinewoods. I got to Bristol, Fl which is just on the Apalachicola River (the time zone river). A dog sitting in a nearby business began chasing me, rather aggressive. Had my pepper spray ready but didn't shoot it. Glad I have it though, if anything for the peace of mind. Crossed the time zone and into Blountstown where I met my host David at Pizza Hut. He took me to my accommodation outside of town where I spent the night. A wide trailer with a shower, bed and great CDs to listen to. A 63 mile day, with an hour to spare.

Photos:

An hour behind is an hour to sleep

Common sign

Somewhere on 20

Day Three: "Riders On The Storm" (4 January) 18 mi

I left the cottage in Monticello relatively late at almost 10:00 thinking I don't have to worry about getting to Tallahassee as it's 30 miles to the next host. I immediately regretted that decision once I saw the radar; a vicious cold front was approaching with severe storms and a tornado warning. Knowing I might have two hours to get to Tallahassee, I scurried along through Monticello heading west again on US 90. My phone is mounted right in front of me so I kept the radar tab open. I took 2 stops, knowing this was solely about getting to shelter (within a reasonable distance to get picked up by my hosts). Eventually I had reached my limit before I would get caught in the storm, so I sought refuge at a BP station and got picked up there. The host family that night are close friends of my family and we had a nice dinner and caught up. I took my bike to a local shop and had them adjust the rear derailleur and lubricate the chain. Not many pictures from this day, as it was stressful and important that I get to my destination safely and swiftly.

Stuck at the BP

What I had to race

At the table

Day Two: "Genuine Interest" (3 January) 78 mi

Before I begin, I realize I've been behind on posts. This is due to poor internet connection. I'll be adding the past few days today.

Left Lake City, Fl around 8:30 after a night in a backyard hammock. My host Jesse drove me to US 90 where I headed west in a light drizzle and fog. I stopped in Live Oak to grab breakfast at the Dixie Grill which had a good crowd that Saturday morning. A big cheese omelette, rye toast, hash browns and a hotcake. Filled up, I went out to leave. Getting my gear situated, two elder bikers asked me where I was going (they saw the panniers, a universal symbol for going far away). I told them about my trip, and one of them said he used to tour back in the day. He wished me well then they motored off. This set the tone for the next 6 hours as I continued west on 90. As I rode on the shoulder I heard two sharp beeps and got passed by a man on a scooter with a hefty load of gear. He continued at a modest pace, disappearing over the hills. The sun was out as it got around 11:30 when I saw what appeared to be a cyclist a quarter mile ahead. Sure enough, it was. He too had panniers, four bright lime green ones. He was heading east, and it was no surprise I saw him since this is a popular cross-country route. I gave him a big thumbs up but that was all. I caught up to the scooter guy who had stopped to rest under the I-10, US 90 junction near Live Oak. He offered me a cold beer and a joint of which I declined, and said he had done touring back in his younger days. We shook hands. Ted was his name. A black leather jacket, a big toothless smile, and a lot of camping gear. I left, and he would pass occasionally giving a friendly honk in support.
After a magnificent crossing over the Suwannee, I passed through the towns of Lee and Madison. In Madison I grabbed a "lunch" of a protein bar and a gatorade. It was here that the hills began to rear their ugly heads. They kicked my ass, and I learned the hard way not to underestimate the seemingly harmless hill country of Florida.
Around 4:15 I arrived in Monticello after 78 miles. My hosts, Zef and 00na, met me at their property where they had a cottage for me to sleep in. A bed, shower, wifi, kitchen and more welcomed a very tired cyclist and soon I would be over to their home to have dinner of chicken, rice and vegetables. While dinner was excellent, I enjoyed the conversation the most. I told them my story, they told me theirs. We must have chatted a good two hours before we all called it a night. So as I lay in bed that night I tried to think of the theme for today. While the hills were tumultuous, they certainly did not overcome any of the support that I received that day. And it wasn't just halfhearted remarks. It was truly genuine interest.

Photos:

My host Jesse and I in Lake City.

The signs can be deflating.

Just east of Live Oak, Fl.

Big breakfast for a hungry cyclist.

Lee, Fl. Taken in front of the baptist church.

The cottage in Monticello.