5/14/26

After my lovely visit with my aunt and uncle and their dogs in North Carolina, I boarded the train in Cary bound for Richmond, Virginia.

I was looking forward to some bike and train explorations, and I got them! The train part, especially, had taken me literally months of research and turning over possibilities in my head. It finally came together!

First, I arrived at the home of my first wonderful Richmond Warmshowers hosts, Pat and Steve. They live, with their two dogs, within three miles of the Staples Mill Amtrak station. (Richmond is one of very few cities with two Amtrak stations. One is conveniently located downtown, but the main one that serves all the stations I needed was Staples Mill, pretty far northwest of town, so it was great to find hosts nearby.) Pat and Steve were incredibly warm and welcoming, and had a lovely guest suite in the basement, so it was a perfect place to stay. I chatted with the two of them while snuggling on the couch with their dog Lefty, and then I set out on my bike to explore a nearby park.

The difference in the “neighborhood look” from Florida was striking. A whole different kind of architectural and spring-nature beauty here.

The next day, I set out on my quest to cross two more Amtrak line segments off my map: Richmond to Newport News, and Richmond to Norfolk. This had been a difficult proposition because both lines only run once per day, and both lines—although they run all the way to New York—use trainsets without baggage cars, since they are considered commuter lines. This meant I could not take my rig on them to spend a night or two or three in either of those cities, unfortunately; I would have to do it as a day trip, or else stay in a hotel for a night with no change of clothes and minimal toiletries. (Or stay with a Servas family at a nearby nudist resort in Ivor, Virginia, which I also considered!) The timing of the lines was such that it was an iffy proposition as to whether I could do it all in one day. That was another reason I appreciated staying with Pat and Steve: they were very flexible as to my dates to stay with them. If I were to miss the connection in Norfolk, I could stay in a hotel there that night, and then return to them the following night.

So I departed their house that morning and biked to the Staples Mill station. I boarded the train to Newport News, and the two-hour ride passed uneventfully.

From the station there, I boarded an Amtrak connector bus to Norfolk. That 40-minute bus ride across the James River/Burwell Bay/Atlantic Ocean (not sure where the line is drawn) was a bit stressful for me: we moved along at what felt like a reasonable pace, but then slowed to a crawl, and then a stop, before we reached the water. Apparently this is a normal traffic pattern, but I kept worrying that I would miss my connection in Norfolk. (Hardly anyone would need or want to make the loop I was making, so Amtrak would have no reason to make any effort to sync the two lines, or delay the departure to wait for the bus’s arrival, like they do on some lines that are commonly used in conjunction with each other.)

I was further surprised when, after we started moving again, we descended into a tunnel to cross the bay! Then about halfway across, we emerged from the tunnel onto a bridge. (My father later explained to me the military reason for this structure, but in the moment it just seemed surreal.)

We made it to the Norfolk station with minutes to spare, and I raced my bike the few blocks from the bus drop-off to the train, boarding just in time to make the connection. I was sad not to have seen any of Newport News nor Norfolk, but thoroughly pleased to be able to mark these lines off my goal of riding every mile of track in Amtrak’s network!

The ride back to Richmond was pleasant and uneventful.

The following afternoon, I said goodbye to Pat and Steve and the doggies, and set out from their northwestern location to the home of my next Warmshowers hosts, out on the eastern edge of town. The ride between them was beautiful.

Lauren, one of my new hosts, met me partway at a lovely park, and we took a goldenhour stroll.

She led me across a really cool bike and pedestrian bridge, which sadly the photo doesn’t do full justice. It was very swoopy and cool!

When we arrived at their house, they were having a family celebration for her husband Alex’s birthday. His mother and their 6-year-old son had made a very elaborate mountain-biking-themed cake for him! I was thoroughly impressed.

The next day, I set out to ride the Virginia Capital Trail. It is a very long trail, so I knew I wouldn’t be able to do the whole thing, but I first headed back in toward town, and reached that end of the trail.

I sat in the pedestrian plaza by the water and just soaked in the relaxing sunshine.

Then I made my way back out, continuing as far as I could into the countryside. The weather was perfect for such a ride, and the season made it breathtakingly beautiful.

Possibly the coolest part of all? After at least an hour of just lounging on various sunny benches in Dorey Park, I had set out on my way back to the house when I crossed a bridge on the trail just in time to see a small lizard scurrying away(!) Although I didn’t have the opportunity to stop and really connect with this lizard like I had with the ones in Florida, I had now experienced my first-ever Virginia lizard sighting, after having lived in that state for 15 years!

Now I’ll see if I can manage to find a lizard in the wild in Oregon this summer… (I’ve heard there are alligator lizards there, but I’ve never seen one. Maybe now that I have been “primed” by all the lizard connections this winter, it will finally happen?)

Then there was one last bit of magic on my way back: I got to ride on Darbytown Road.

Locals will tell you—correctly—that this is not a good road for cycling. There are no bike lanes, and drivers take the twists and turns uncomfortably fast.

But this road—which I had never seen until that day—had a special meaning for me.

Growing up in then-rural western Loudoun County, in northern Virginia, we had a neighbor family, the McLeans, who moved in when I was in second or third grade. Laurie, the youngest of three daughters, was just a year younger than me, and we became friends.

I only briefly met her older sisters, Kathy and April. But many years later—when I was in my thirties, living in Portland—I somehow learned that April had become a singer-songwriter. I went online and found some of her songs. Her latest album at that time was called Darbytown Road, and the title track—a song to her mother—brought me to tears when I heard it. (I tried to find a link to share it with you, but that song doesn’t seem to be available unless you buy the whole album for $5.)

So, it felt like a cool full-circle moment to me to ride on this road. (I had forgotten that the McLeans had lived in Richmond before they moved to Waterford.)

I hummed the song to myself as I pedaled along.

And even one more bit of magic: my next turn, after Darbytown, was onto Oregon Street!

My time in Richmond was rich indeed.

Next up: the DC area and Bethesda, Maryland!

—

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5/5/26

This will be a short post, mostly just some pics from my fun time visiting my aunt and uncle and their two dogs near Raleigh, North Carolina.

I took the overnight train from Orlando, and arrived in the morning to the Cary station, where my uncle picked me up.

The next day, he took me to Raleigh’s Dix Park, named after Dorothea Dix, a social reformer who advocated on behalf of poor mentally ill people. It was a beautiful spring day to be out in that spacious place.

The park is host to one of Danish artist Thomas Dambo’s many installations of troll sculptures, made from recycled materials. (I had known about the Portland-area troll for a year or so before I began my travels this past fall, but I hadn’t found the time to get out to the west side of town to see it. Watch for a future post, though!)

Four of the five trolls in this park were hidden in wooden areas, which made them fun to discover.

Most of the rest of my four days with my aunt and uncle were spent quietly, catching up and talking about my travels, the dogs, my aunt’s beautiful art, and the like.

One extra cool bit of magic: I saw an anole at their house! I’ve visited my aunt and uncle a number of times over the years, including this past fall—and I did know from my aunt’s Facebook posts that sometimes they see anoles there—but I had never personally encountered one.

After all the “lizard magic” I experienced this winter in Florida, it was really cool to see this one on the front fence. I even dared to dream that I might see a lizard in Virginia, though that seemed extremely unlikely. (Both Virginia and Oregon apparently are home to a few native lizards, but in all my time in both states—the vast majority of my life—I have never seen a lizard in the wild.)

Next up: a beautiful bicycle trail in Richmond, Virginia.

—

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4/30/26

A fond farewell to Florida

My time in Florida finally came to an end, after four months of a wide variety of experiences, places, and people. I’m so glad I spent this winter there. I may do it again sometime.

After about a week and a half with my furry friends Mr. T and Missy B in St. Petersburg, I began a convoluted trek to Orlando for my last few days in Florida.

Ordinarily, I would have taken the Amtrak connector bus from St. Pete to Tampa, then transferred to the train to Orlando.

But no. Because…

On my way from Orlando to St. Pete just prior, I had noticed that the Tampa train station was undergoing renovations, and was therefore temporarily not offering baggage service.

Oof.

What this meant was that instead, I had to take a city bus from St. Petersburg’s South Straub Park to downtown Tampa, then transfer to a Greyhound bus to Lakeland, then take the Amtrak from Lakeland to Orlando.

In Tampa, I enjoyed the beautiful bike ride along the bay, lined with mansions from the early 20th century.

I found a Cinnaholic, and enjoyed a delicious vegan cinnamon roll, then made my way over to the Greyhound stop.

Unfortunately, a now-predictable kerfuffle unfolded at that stop, where the driver sharply denied me boarding because of my bike. But this time there was an added twist: while I was arguing with him about it, a fellow passenger, for some disgusting and inscrutable reason, spat some dark liquid directly onto the folded bike (blessedly at least hitting the mud guard rather than the handlebars or chain). Incredulous, I paused my dispute with the driver to rinse it off with my hydration pack, while asking the passenger, “Did you just spit on my bike??” She gave me a mildly sheepish look and said, “Yeah… sorry.”

What??

After phone calls by both the driver and me to Greyhound, he finally let me on the bus, confiding that “this company has gone to shit since Flix took over. They always want to throw drivers under the bus now.” I empathized, disappointed but unsurprised to hear about the changes since the Flixbus acquisition of Greyhound a few years ago; I had heard, and personally experienced, similar stories already.

At Lakeland, I disembarked at the stop a few miles north of downtown, at a city bus stop on the edge of a desolate strip mall. The sky threatened rain, and I had a long wait before my train, so I decided to wait at the sheltered stop until the skies cleared. My two compatriots there were a young woman who wondered aloud why anyone would want to come to Lakeland, and an elderly homeless man spitting chaw juice into a bottle and asking me if I could help him buy a ticket for the next Greyhound. (“I have the cash, I can give it to you… I just don’t have a smartphone.”) I felt bad for him—having overheard him trying to buy a ticket from the driver who had dropped me off, who told him the only way to buy a ticket was online—but explained that if I were to buy the ticket, it would reside on my phone and not be usable by him.

The young woman struck up a conversation with him, and offered to watch his things while he went to a nearby store to buy some small item. (“Don’t let anyone touch it,” he implored her. “This is everything I have.”) She assured him she would watch over the bags.

I chatted with her a bit while waiting for the dark skies to clear, but when it became apparent that this might take another hour or two, I decided to take my chances and bike to the train station.

Fortunately I only caught a few sprinkles, and before long I had left the soulless outskirts and found myself in the cute downtown of Lakeland, the college town where I had recently learned that my uncle had attended school, back in the 1960s.

I sat on a bench next to what I presumed to be the central lake of Lakeland, just decompressing for a bit, then made my way to the other side of the lake where the picturesque Amtrak station sat. Despite several “no bikes” signs outside the station that made my stomach clench, the two staffers inside were smiling and gracious as I took apart my rig and handed it over as checked baggage.

I made it safely to Orlando, and biked back to Faith and Scott’s house, a few pleasant miles away from the station.

In the evening light, I experienced the beautiful nearby Lake Como Park. I have always enjoyed circular lakes and parks, which seem to be more common in Florida than elsewhere. There is a geometric magic to them, strengthened in this case by the nearly full moon above.

The following day, Faith took me along with her on her drive to a meeting in Winter Garden, west of Orlando, which you may recall from my first bike tour back in January. I enjoyed that cute area again, then met up with Faith after her meeting for a coffee-and-beer break at a nearby food court.

Then the next day, I met up with a fellow nomad, Carolyn, whom I had recently met in a Facebook group. She was also in Orlando just for a few days—headed to Colorado next—and we both had been wanting to visit the Harry P Leu Gardens.

We had a great chat in a beautiful setting, and wished each other well on our continued travels.

Then the best magic happened the next day, just a few hours before my afternoon boarding of my northbound train.

I went back to Lake Como Park, wanting to soak in that special place. The sun was now shining, and I even found a Little Free Library.

This reminded me of meeting the inimitable Rick Brooks, co-founder of the Little Free Libraries, four years ago in Illinois on my first year of travels. I texted Rick to check in, and we had a cool little exchange. This sparked me to reflect on all the amazing people I have met, and places I have seen, on this journey that waxes and wanes, but that I have now been on in one form or another for the past four and a half years. I started brainstorming all kinds of things about where I can go from here, how I can integrate and/or share some of the magic I have encountered with others…

I took copious notes in my phone’s Notes app.

While I was sitting there marinating in all this and buzzing with energy and ideas, I saw a woman walk by with two dogs. I smiled involuntarily at all of them, and we said a quick hello.

And then!

A few minutes later, I checked my phone and saw this message:

It was from Debbie, a Host a Sister woman I had met up with in Orlando—in a totally different neighborhood—back in January! I hadn’t recognized her in this different context.

What were the odds??

Feeling the “Florida magic” thus complete (further enhanced by browsing the books in the Little Free Library and finding a “vintage” one, from around 1980, called “The Florida Bicycle Book”) I made my way back to Faith and Scott’s house.

One last task before departing for the station: I finally replaced my hideously roadworn trailer rain cover/visibility cloak with the new one I had been toting around since I began this year’s journey last fall. I had been scared that I would somehow mess up the lettering and “ruin” this expensive and difficult-to-ship product, but all turned out well.

Then I went and boarded that train. We pulled out as the golden-hour light shone on my last views of Florida.

Up next: trolls in North Carolina!

—

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4/21/26

I’m nearing the end of sharing my Florida adventures! There will be more adventures in other states, of course, but this winter in Florida was definitely special. I’m glad I experienced it. Thanks to all of you who came along with me, here on the blog.

I’ll keep this post brief, and mostly pictorial. These places (and cats!) were so beautiful.

After my Daytona Warmshowers host Nikita dropped me off in Edgewater, I got to experience yet again the magical trail that is the East Central Regional Rail Trail. (You may recall that I first experienced this back in January. The weather was perfect that day, and again this time! I think this was my favorite of all the bike trails I rode in Florida.)

Sadly, this time I missed seeing the goats and trail kitty, but I did see a huge batch of baby gators! (No mother in sight, but she must have been nearby.)

I also saw several strolling sandhill cranes at a neighborhood trail crossing. It’s always cool to see those endangered birds just out and about, enjoying life.

After a friendly encounter with a squirrel toward the end of the path right before I reached the DeBary Sunrail station, I finished most of my day’s ride and transferred to the Sunrail, which I took all the way into Orlando.

From the colorful transit center there, I biked just a few more miles to meet my Host a Sister hosts for the night, Faith and her husband.

I had planned to stay two nights with them, but an unexpected snafu with my upcoming cat sit in St. Pete pulled me away the next morning. Fortunately, I would have a chance to stay with them again after that sit.

So I hopped onto the Amtrak to Tampa, then transferred to a city bus to take me across the bay to St. Pete. After about half an hour of cycling, I reached the home I would share with two adorable kitties for the next week and a half, Missy B and Mr. T. While there, I enjoyed the jungle-like backyard (complete with anoles, squirrels, and many birds who enjoyed the feeders) and I also made some communication attempts with Mr. B.

One of these attempts seemed encouragingly successful, when I had asked him to reach out and touch me with his paw if he was receiving and understanding my telepathic communication. A day later, he did so, not once but twice. Up until then, in the three or four days we had spent together, he had barely touched me or seemed affectionate at all.

The learning and practice continues!

After so much continual traveling, I took advantage of my ten-day stay with these cats to mostly sit still and enjoy the lovely home and yard. But on my last day, I did set out to explore the Boyd Hill Nature Preserve, which was lush and beautiful.

There I got to see my last gator of the season, luxuriating in a sunny swamp.

Next up: the last of my Florida days, in Orlando!

—

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4/17/26

Hello from my family homestead in Waterford, Virginia! This is one of the last stops on my winter of travels, and I’ll share more in a later post. But now, I need to catch up on my ride from Palm Coast—near where I left off last time in Flagler Beach—to Daytona Beach, where I had the unique experience of sleeping on a boat in a marina!

When I left my host’s house in Palm Coast, it was quite chilly, but sunny and otherwise pleasant.

I pedaled through a nice nature reserve on my way out toward the coast, complete with the requisite Florida “boardwalk” bridges and vegetation.

Pretty soon I reached the ocean, and cycled along it for many miles. At one point I took a lunch break at a park, and warmed myself as best I could in the sun.

I also connected with a few more friendly anoles there, also warming themselves along the fencing.

Farther south, I stopped into the beautiful, lush Ormond Gardens. I first went inside to admire the art at the attached museum, although the main exhibit—of local children’s art, some of it extremely impressive—had a “no photography” sign, so I can’t share it here.

Then I went out and enjoyed the garden area, another beautiful jungle.

I especially enjoyed the turtle pond, and was delighted when the turtles seemed very willing to interact, make eye contact, etc—more than most turtles I had encountered in Florida.

Finally, I departed and finished my day’s ride, arriving at last in Daytona Beach.

My Warmshowers host, Nikita, who moved to the US from Russia some years ago, met me at the marina where he lives on his boat. We had some nice conversation, and he showed me on his map of the world how many places he had bicycled, which was very impressive. He is a much more “hardcore” cyclist than I, willing to bike in remote areas with rugged terrain and primitive camping. (Some of these trips he had done with his then-wife and two small children!)

He encouraged me to take a short spin around the marina in his kayak, which I enjoyed despite not being much of a “boat person.”

After setting me up with amenities, he left to stay at his girlfriend’s place for the night, so I had the boat to myself.

However, he was a consummate host, agreeing to drive me a significant distance the next morning so that I could reach a starting point close enough to my next destination that I could make the trip in one day, rather than having to get a hotel. He dropped me at the entry to the Central Florida Rail Trail in Edgewater, and from there I was able to cycle that magical trail (again!) to the Sunrail station in DeBary, then catch the train to my next host in Orlando.

—

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4/9/26

Hello from Richmond, Virginia! I’m slowly making my way north and west back to Portland, but I have several Florida adventures still to share.

Today’s installment: my very pleasant ride from St. Augustine south to Flagler Beach, which included a spontaneous stop at Washington Oaks Park. I love oak trees, so this sounded like my kind of place, and I was picturing some manicured live oaks with Spanish moss. I did find some of that, but also much more, including a very jungle-like trail that I strolled in for about an hour.

First things first. I departed my St. Augustine hotel on the St. Patrick’s Day weekend, and there was a large Celtic music festival in town for the weekend. I wove my rig through the crowds lining the military-and-bagpiping parade, and headed south from one of the very oldest European buildings in the USA.

From there I crossed the iconic Lions Bridge, and I happened to hit it just as the bridge was going up. It’s always a little surreal to see a bridge lift. (It always reminds me of some of my colorful nightmares!)

From there it was a pleasant ride for some miles, with some nice water views.

Then it was time for the park. I’ll just share the pics in the order that I encountered these environments. There were so many different kinds of natural spaces in that park. I wished I could have another couple of hours to fully appreciate the whole place.

Coming out of the park, I continued along scenic roads and bikeways, until I reached the home of my wonderful Warmshowers host Susan.

We shared a nice meal and some great conversation. She told me that Washington Oaks Park is one of her favorite parks, and that her late husband’s uncle had been a major supporter of the park. I love all the human connections I make in my journeys, especially when they intersect with the beautiful natural spaces I get to see.

Next up: sleeping on a boat in Daytona Beach!

—

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4/3/26

Hello from Apex, North Carolina! I’m enjoying a nice visit with my aunt and uncle and their two doggies, but meanwhile I still need to catch up on my Florida adventure blog posting!

I’ll keep this one short too, mostly photos.

I stayed in a hotel in St. Augustine for two nights. During the intervening day, I visited the beautiful nearby Ravine Gardens. To get there, I was pleased to experience about 12 miles of the 19-mile-long Palatka-to-St. Augustine State Trail.

This trail was much less shady than most others I’ve seen here in Florida, and much more agricultural, with potato and cabbage fields aplenty. Fortunately the day was warm without getting too hot.

To get to the trail, I biked a few miles south of the downtown St. Augustine area to the Seabridge Mall, where I caught the quaint little Sunshine Bus Company bus. Similar to most of the buses I had taken from Gainesville to St. Augustine, these were short buses staffed by chatty local drivers. Once again, upon boarding both the outbound and inbound buses, the drivers told me bikes were not allowed on board, but I was able to prevail upon them by arguing that my small folded bike wasn’t “really” a bike in that form.

The outbound bus dropped me in the rural community of Hastings, where I picked up the trail and rode to Palatka.

From downtown Palatka, it was just a mile or so to the lovely Ravine Gardens. The weather was perfect, and the azaleas were at peak bloom, so I couldn’t have asked for a better day to visit.

I spent at least an hour contemplatively experiencing the forest on a shady bench along the ravine trail, and then headed back out to bike back the 12 miles to catch the bus in Hastings again.

Before I rejoined the trail, I thought it would be fun to bike to the Palatka Amtrak station. I knew I wouldn’t be able to take a train to or from that station, since it doesn’t offer checked baggage service, so I made do by snapping a pic of the exterior before continuing my bike journey.

It was a very pleasant day.

Coming up next, my bike ride south from St. Augustine to Flagler Beach!

—

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3/27/26

This was quite a travel day! I had hoped it would all go well, and eventually it did, though not without a few hiccups, of course.

During my time in Florida so far, I had become aware that it is very difficult to get to St. Augustine without a car. For years, people had been telling me I had to visit St. Augustine, the oldest continuously inhabited European-established settlement in the United States, founded in 1565. But no train lines go there, and very few buses, from very few places. (Apparently, Greyhound recently stopped its service there from Jacksonville.) Bicycling there from a variety of origins is possible, of course, but only on major roads, no car-free or particularly safe paths.

Thus, it had been on my list to visit for the past four years, and I definitely intended to visit there this winter, but I wasn’t sure how I would get there. (Finding lodging was another obstacle—with only one Servas host and a small handful of Warmshowers hosts, this was another challenge to face.)

But I discovered via a Google Maps search that there seemed to be a very convoluted and time-consuming—but very economical—transit option all the way from Gainesville to St. Augustine, fully operated by the Jacksonville Transit Authority. I was skeptical, but impressed and optimistic. I would take four buses ($1 each for the first three, $3 for the last) and bicycle about eight miles to bridge the gap between two of them—rather than waiting in a small town for more than an hour for a fifth bus—and then cycle about 12 more miles upon arrival, to reach my Warmshowers hosts in Vilano Beach, on the far side of St. Augustine.

So, on a Wednesday morning, I packed up from my Gainesville host’s place—having been awakened at dawn in this new neighborhood by yet another neighbor’s rooster—and rode along the bike path to the downtown transit center, looking for the bus that would take me to the Keystone Heights Senior Center, west of Gainesville—Stop One on my itinerary.

Upon arriving at the transit center, I faced a moment of panic, not seeing any bus with 3-digit numbers, and realizing that the once-a-day bus was due to depart in about ten minutes. I asked a couple of staffers in the booth at the transit center, both of whom seemed unaware of the existence of this bus.

Good lord.

But one suggested that if such a bus existed, it would probably be “over there.” He pointed just over to the side of the transit center, and sure enough, there my eyes fell upon a very small bus. I scurried over and began dismantling my rig, trying to get the driver’s attention through the closed door to confirm that this was indeed my ride.

As per usual, he expressed skepticism that I could get the rig on the bus. I had noticed, however, that there was an ADA-compliant lift installed on the side of the bus. Long story short, we all made it on board.

Once I got on, his gruffness seemed to melt, and he and I and the two other passengers chatted the whole way to the senior center, which was nearly an hour.

At the senior center, a similar-looking bus was already waiting for the transfer. My driver spoke to the new driver, explaining my situation and asking him to help me with that bus’s lift, which he did.

That next driver was much quieter, but the hour and 15 minutes of that $1 ride—to the Middleburg VA clinic—passed pleasantly enough.

When I disembarked, the driver gave me some pointers as to how to bike the eight miles to my next bus stop, although I found that Google Maps gave me safer and more pleasant cycling directions, since the driver just suggested the two major thoroughfares that would get an auto driver there most efficiently. I was once again surprised to find myself on yet another pleasant, car free bike path alongside a quiet road for several miles. Florida has continually impressed me with the frequency of these little bikeways in unexpected spots.

By this time, the mercury was climbing to 90F/32C, so I was ready for a rest in an air conditioned Taco Bell by the time I reached Orange Park, an outer suburb of Jacksonville.

Thus fortified, I boarded a full-sized city bus—thankfully not at all crowded with passengers, so I could stash the rig in the front seating area with me—and rode the next hour to the Jacksonville Transit Center.

That place seemed pretty well designed, and full of security officers; I gathered there had been quite a bit of unsavory activity in the not-too-distant past, so the transit agency was making an effort to keep everyone safe.

Once again, however, I had a hard time locating the bus stop where I could catch my final short bus of the day, for the 90-minute ride to St. Augustine. By this time it was nearly 4:30. I asked several staffers, but had a hard time finding the stop. On my way, though, since I had a bit of extra time, I strolled over to the very august-looking convention center across the street.

When I finally located the bus stop, on the sunny and hot south edge of the transit center, I found quite a bit of activity in that area. First I got heckled by a couple of seemingly vagrant men who formed a sort of comedy duo. One pointed at my trailer and asked, “You got a dog in there?” The other laughed and replied, “A dead dog!”

Charming.

(Oddly enough, in all my years of traveling with this rig, this was the second time someone had asked if there was an animal inside. The first time had been just a couple of hours earlier, during my bike ride between buses. A young girl and her mother were crossing a crosswalk at the same time I was. The girl—much more innocently—had pointed at the trailer and asked if there was an animal inside.)

Then an ambulance pulled up, directly in the right-of-way where my bus was due to arrive soon. I’m not sure what the problem was, but I watched someone be moved from a car onto a stretcher into the ambulance, and then lots of talking amongst the rescuers and affected people.

I waited in the nearby hot shade for my bus, hoping all would go smoothly.

The bus pulled up, and sure enough, couldn’t park where it needed to. The driver pulled over into a nearby gravel parking lot. I lugged my bulky rig over as quickly as I could… only to have her deny me entry onto the bus. (“We just got an email the other day. No bikes on the buses. Not even any kind of large luggage that could shift around.”)

Interesting. My Greyhound driver from Spring Hill to Tallahassee, several weeks ago, had said something very similar. Strange coincidence that two unrelated transit-agency heads were apparently sending out such emails. That driver, however, had grudgingly relented, and by the time I disembarked, he seemed impressed with how “cool” my rig was, and unconcerned about my taking it on Greyhounds going forward.

Now, here in Jacksonville near the end of a long day, I did my best, as always, to stay calm and explain to the driver that everything could work out just fine; I had just taken the rig on two very similar buses earlier in the day.

She remained unmoved.

Hmmm.

Yikes.

What now?

I needed that bus. To bike that distance would take an entire day, which I didn’t have. I already had a Warmshowers host lined up in St. Augustine, but only for one night. I had already paid for a hotel there for the following two nights, given the lack of response or availability from the other lodging folks there. I did not want to add the cost of a Jacksonville hotel to this, not to mention the hassle of finding such a hotel, navigating to it, and then having a long and probably unpleasant bike ride the following day.

But the driver was firm; I could not board.

Temporarily stymied, I did take the opportunity, while she waited to depart, to walk around the bus to scope it out. (There would be another bus in about 40 minutes, then one more much later, then no more for the day. What kind of vehicle was I dealing with here?) Sure enough, there was no lift gate on this bus.

Hmmmm.

Feeling deflated, I lugged the disassembled rig over to a shady curb to rest and pivot.

First, I reached out to a Jacksonville contact my earlier New Smyrna Beach host had just that day introduced me to on Facebook. I explained the situation, and asked if there might be any chance I could stay with her that night.

While I waited for her response, I texted my Vilano Beach hosts to update them that I wasn’t sure if I would be able to arrive to them, but that I was working on it.

I also reminded myself that every driver is a new person. If one says no, the next might say yes—even under identical infrastructural and policy conditions.

Meanwhile, shortly after I sat down on the curb, a very unpleasant man came to sit beside me. I believe he was intoxicated in some way. Normally, I make a point to be friendly to fellow travelers around me, but my instincts told me right away not to look at this man or engage with him.

The good news was, in the half hour or so we sat next to each other, he never directly addressed me or tried to engage.

The bad news was, he kept up a running commentary about everything and everyone that was upsetting him at the moment, and this list was long. He seemed to be speaking to me, since generally no one else was within earshot, but each time I failed to respond he seemed unconcerned.

“This transit center ain’t shit! They say it’s all that, but it ain’t shit!”

Another man walked up to the nearby bike rack and began to unlock his bike.

My compatriot started in on him: “People care so much about their fucking bikes! I don’t give a fuck! You think someone cares about your bike enough to steal it? I’ll rob that bike from you right now!”

At this, the cyclist looked over, and with a puzzled and annoyed countenance, said, “What?”

My companion had no meaningful response, just more muttering as the cyclist biked away.

Of course I hoped he wasn’t really going to take anyone’s bike—mine was folded neatly in front of me, with the trailer (turned into a push cart for transport) resting on it.

There really wasn’t any other good place for me to go to get away from him, and part of me feared that even if I tried, he might then begin harassing me or even following me. So I stayed put.

As various people walked by, he called out insulting things to them (including racial slurs to a Black man, although he was also Black himself, as far as I could discern from my quick glance when he had arrived.)

I think that passerby said something to a couple of security officers, because a pair of them—one white man and one Black man—began walking our way. They seemed to be using a deescalation framework—speaking calmly—which I appreciated. They told him that they had received some complaints that he was “causing issues.” He then began unleashing another tirade, including several racial epithets about Latino people. The security officers ignored the content of his speech, but informed him that it was not allowed for people to sit on the curb there.

I squirmed a bit to hear this. Where was I supposed to go now?

And sure enough, upon hearing this, the man acknowledged me for the first time since he had been sitting there: “What about her??”

Without looking at any of the three, I silently picked up my rig’s components and began walking across the street, back into the sun, to the gravel lot where my bus would now soon be arriving.

Never a dull moment.

Meanwhile, my new Jacksonville Facebook friend had replied, saying there was a chance she could drive me to St. Augustine that evening if need be. She couldn’t promise, but said she might be able to.

I thanked her profusely for the possibility.

A few minutes later, the next bus did arrive. I did my best to play it cool with the new driver, just asking, “Is this the bus to St. Johns?” She smiled and said yes. No indication of a problem.

I walked around to the passenger door, and she followed me. Despite the lack of an ADA lift, she cheerfully helped me to load the heavy and bulky trailer up the stairs and around the corner. She even helped me to tuck the bike and trailer behind a seat so that they wouldn’t shift in transit.

I paid her the $3, and we were on our way.

Whew! All’s well that ends well.

During the ride, I texted updates to my Jacksonville contact and Vilano Beach hosts.

The bus deposited me a few miles north of town, as the shadows were growing longer. I biked nearly another two hours to my hosts’ beautiful home right off the beach, crossing a bridge on the Jimmy Buffet Memorial Highway on the way, just as the sun was setting.

I pulled up to their house as darkness was settling in. The wife greeted me warmly, and I immediately took her up on her offer of a shower, followed by a home-cooked meal and a luxurious night of sleep. (No roosters!)

The next day, I meandered back across the bridge to enjoy St. Augustine a bit.

I was shocked at the degree of visible tourism, although I’ve tried to avoid showing it in these photos. There were tourist trolleys and plazas full of field-trip kids all over town.

This was to be my only day exploring St. Augustine, because my next and final day was planned for riding part of the Palatka Trail, and visiting the beautiful Ravine Gardens.

And, rain was forecast for the afternoon, so I really only had a few hours. Before I checked into my hotel, I found a pleasant gazebo on the campus of the tiny and unconventional Flagler College. I rested there a while, and watched a small tour group go through. I later learned that the college gives free tours to the public on a regular basis, especially because some of the school’s architecture is so interesting.

When the rain did come, I holed up in the city library, a few blocks away from the hotel where check-in time was not for two more hours. It was an unexpected but cozy way to pass the time before the hotel.

Next up: the Palatka Trail and Ravine Gardens!

—

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3/23/26

Hello from St. Petersburg! I’m here taking care of two cute kitties for ten days, but meanwhile I’ve been falling behind here on the blog.

So I’ll make this one short—mostly just photos—and plan to make another post soon.

When I left off last time, I had been enjoying various aspects of Gainesville. After my earlier lovely ride on the St. Marks Rail Trail south of Tallahassee, I was looking forward to biking a similar one in Gainesville. When I did so, it was also lovely, although the day was hotter, the rest stops (and fresh water) were more scarce, and I saw almost no animals, which was quite a change from the St. Marks Trail.

I did have one really cool animal encounter, though, but you’ll have to take my word for it since I didn’t get a photo.

Toward the end of the day, as I was nearing my starting/ending point of the trail as it borders Paynes Prairie State Park, I glanced to my right from the trail, into the woods. As I did so, a brown horse with a black mane suddenly emerged.

No human in sight.

I caught the horse’s eye, and said aloud something like, “Wow. I wasn’t expecting to see you here…”

The horse met my eye briefly, then tossed its mane and turned back into the woods.

The entire experience was very brief, but it felt like a magical moment. I’m pretty sure this the first time I had ever encountered a wild horse. It was a cool way to end my day of cycling. (I later remembered that I had heard that there were wild horses living in Paynes Prairie.)

Finishing the trail as it extended into downtown Gainesville, I made my way back to Karma Cream, where I had met up with Debbie the previous day for a snack before we went to the botanical garden. Karma Cream is a great mostly vegan café in town where they serve a wide selection of vegan ice creams. It was the perfect capper for my exertion on a hot day. I chose one scoop each of coffee and chocolate, and enjoyed it at a table outside.

Next up: St. Augustine!

—

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Schedule a free one-hour video or phone call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I travel on a shoestring, in a continual process of manifesting a “salary” for the unconventional work I do in the world. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my godfunders, patrons, and supporters!)

3/16/26

Hello from Palm Coast! I have been staying here for two nights with a host who has graciously allowed me to wait out the rain here before continuing south to Daytona Beach tomorrow. I’m so glad for that, because yesterday and today we had major deluges in the afternoons, complete with lightning and thunder.

But I’m here now to tell you about my second foray into Gainesville, about a week ago.

I’m sure some of you remember that Gainesville is where my winter’s Florida travels began, back in early December. I had taken the train from Savannah to Orlando, stayed in a hotel there for one night, and then caught a RedCoach bus to Gainesville for what was to be my first visit. At that time, I stayed for a week and a half at Jungle Friends Primate Sanctuary, helping to prepare food and clean cages for 177 monkeys. That was an amazing experience.

I also visited a handful of the Gainesville area’s many nature parks, but I wanted to come back later to see more. I also wanted to make sure to visit the monkeys again. And, I wanted to spend some time just soaking up the vibes of Florida’s most hippie-ish college town.

Thankfully, I got to do all of these things on my recent visit.

I was able to find three Warmshowers hosts to stay with—Demi for two nights, Michael and Rosa for two nights, and Allyson for one night. I also managed to meet up with a friend of a friend of a friend, named Debbie, who is staying temporarily in Gainesville as part of her vanlifing journey with her dog.

My first time in the area, the weather was chillier than I would have liked. That was not an issue this time around. The mercury climbed into the 80s (about 30C) and the air was a bit humid, although nothing like it will be in a few months! I was pretty pleased with the weather, although I felt sticky at times.

Demi lives near the University of Florida (she is a PhD student there, in linguistics) so I got to see the campus again, including a cool underpass I had remembered from before.

On my first day in town, I went back to the Alfred A. Ring nature park, which was as lush and calming as I had remembered.

The next day, Demi joined me for a tour of Jungle Friends. Like so many Gainesville residents, she had been unaware that there was a monkey sanctuary just a few miles north of town. It was fun for me to experience it all over again, but this time with a tour of folks who were seeing it and meeting the monkeys for the first time. I was so happy to be able to reconnect specifically with Zumie and Monkers, and Skotty, all of whom had stolen my heart last time.

Then later that afternoon and early evening, I explored a local nature park my host Allyson had suggested: the La Chua boardwalk trail. It was stunning. The light was incredible at that time of day. I saw more gators than maybe ever before (with the possible exception of the day when I cycled through the Everglades) and also many beautiful birds, and several anoles.

I also got a preview of the adjacent Gainesville-Hawthorne Trail, which I rode a few days later. (Stay tuned for that post.)

A couple days later, I met up with Debbie (it was her birthday!) and we went to Kanapaha Botanical Gardens, which my hosts Michael and Rosa had recommended. It was a beautiful place with the azaleas in bloom, and many Asian-garden elements as well, such as bamboo, a red bridge, and a few waterfalls.

Then I returned to Michael and Rosa’s beautiful cottage nestled in the woods, where I would sleep in an A-frame trailer next to the house. The driveway and the neighbors’ chickens really transported me to an alternate, “old Florida” reality. I soaked it all in, even enjoying amenities like their outdoor shower. The only downside was being awakened before dawn both mornings by the rooster crowing for what seemed like a solid hour… but the rustic charm was worth it.

—

Do you have your own dream or project, and would like some support or collaborative brainstorming about it? Schedule a free one-hour video or phone call with me!

Want to be notified of future blog posts? Use the green “sign up” button to subscribe!

Want to support my vision financially? I travel on a shoestring, in a continual process of manifesting a “salary” for the unconventional work I do in the world. You can make a one-time or monthly contribution, or even become a fairy godfunder! (Heartfelt thanks to all my godfunders, patrons, and supporters!)