Hello from Gainesville again! I’ve covered so much ground since I last posted—I need to catch up again! I’m going to start with Pensacola.
When I left off last time, my Host a Sister host Sharon had picked me up after my bike ride to Pensacola. I spent two nights with her, and we visited Fort Pickens, which was a very old and historically rich site. I’m including a few photos of plaques to give a glimpse into the history of the place, but you can dig deeper to read more if you’re interested. The evening light was especially lovely as we explored the grounds.
After lunch, she showed me the downtown area, some of whose architecture was surprisingly reminiscent of New Orleans, although a huge construction project made it harder to feel the full vibe. Appropriately, we got there just a few hours before the annual Mardi Gras parade was to begin.
The next morning, Sharon generously drove me across two very long bridges to get me to Pensacola Beach as my starting point for the bike ride back to Navarre. Despite the headwind (again! argh!) it was as pleasant a ride as the reverse direction had been. I didn’t take more photos of the white-sand shores, but I enjoyed them in the moment.
I arrived back at Kelly’s house in Navarre, but this time she was off on her travels, so the two kitties, Sombra and Nike, were my greeting party. They were both friendly, and remembered me from a few days prior, and we got along great for the following two weeks.
While I was with them, I decided to get more serious about my longstanding desire to learn interspecies intuitive communication, with the help of a friend who is able to do it. I will plan to continue writing about IIC as that journey unfolds for me, but in Navarre, I made several efforts to communicate telepathically both with Nike and Sombra, and also with a group of at least four brown anole lizards in the backyard.
This home’s location was not well situated for me to spend time outdoors: the bicycle infrastructure was unsafe and unpleasant, and very few natural areas (besides the beach) were near enough to be accessible to me. So, I spent time inside, connecting with the kitties, catching up on phone and video calls with friends and family, and doing my Cambly online English tutoring work.
One cool in-person interaction fell into place, though. I belong to a Facebook group called Full Time Travelers and Nomads, run by a woman (with whom I share a rare November 8 birthday!) named Heather Markel. (I got to meet Heather in Manhattan during my year of travels in 2022, which was really cool!) In that group, there is a weekly post asking where in the world people will be in the next two weeks. I usually add my location, but up until now I had never been in the same place at the same time as another member. I thought it would be especially unlikely in this case, in such a relatively unknown area, but I typed in “Florida panhandle, USA.” Amazingly, another pet sitting US-nomadic woman named Dani happened to be staying about an hour’s drive away, in the panhandle town of Niceville! We connected online, and then she made the drive down to pick me up in Navarre and take me to the (much more scenic) Navarre Beach, a few miles down the road, which I had passed through on my bike rides to and from Pensacola.
We ended up hanging out for a full five hours, talking nonstop about our similar lifestyles. First we stopped at a fun tropical-themed bar, and then went over to walk the pier. We happened to arrive there just as some lifeguard trainees were about to jump from the pier into the water below, and then swim to shore. That was fun to watch.
I’ll leave you with a ridiculous bonanza of Nike (tripod tabby) and Sombra (black beauty) photos, because it’s been a long stretch of posts recently with no cat sits. Hopefully this can tide you over until my next sit, in late March in St. Petersburg.
This last photo is what I saw when I opened my eyes after an attempt at a telepathic communication session. It’s the only time I saw them both looking at me intently like that.
That’s a dramatic title, and overall this post will cover more ecstasy than agony. But man, bike touring in general can really feel like a roller coaster from one day—nay, one moment—to the next… but I felt that especially here on the panhandle.
I’m writing this from Navarre, where I have one more full day left with these two cute kitties, Nike and Sombra. (Too many nature pics to squeeze them in here; I’ll plan to post cat pics in the next chapter.)
My next destination was Fort Walton Beach. My Panama City Servas host Barbara kindly drove me six miles to give me a head start on what would otherwise have been a 44-mile day. I appreciated that; as it was, I arrived shortly before sunset. The riding day was very pleasant, with a separated bike-and-ped path next to the road for most of it. Although I was bicycling very close to the gulf, Barbara had explained that I wouldn’t actually be able to see the water for most of the way, which felt unfortunate. Still, I did pass one beautiful lake soon after embarking.
About halfway through that day, I stopped for lunch at a classic old-school “health food store,” which did my heart good.
(It was even right next door to a bike shop, though fortunately I had no need to stop in there for repairs.) I found a vegan falafel wrap in the cold case, and ate half of it in the small seating area outside. I saved the other half in case I might need it for dinner.
Navigating meals while bike touring and staying with Warmshowers hosts requires some creativity. Some hosts very generously provide dinner when you arrive. Others do not. Sometimes the host will tell you ahead of time which to expect (and sometimes it is in their Warmshowers profile) but if they don’t, it makes sense to not eat too much on the road in case they do offer a meal, but also to have something on hand in case they don’t. Sometimes I gently feel out the situation ahead of time, by letting them know that I don’t expect them to feed me, but that in case they were planning to, I follow a vegan diet, meaning that I avoid all animal products. Generally, if I do that, the host will write back with some indication as to whether they plan to provide a meal or not, so I can plan accordingly. I hadn’t taken this step in this case, though, so I knew I was winging it.
After lunch, I continued my ride, and as I approached Fort Walton Beach, the scenery got pretty darn amazing. I felt like I was in the Caribbean, looking out on some of that mesmerizing aquamarine water.
I ended up feeling slightly awkward at my hosts’ place, though. I pulled up to their house, just a few blocks from the beach, with a Cybertruck in the driveway. The listing for this host had indicated that the couple were very friendly, and sure enough, the husband—who happens to have a Brompton in his bike collection—came out to greet me warmly. I did feel a little nervous when he led me inside and mentioned that one of their three dogs often bites unfamiliar women, though I was slightly comforted when he mentioned that his wife was keeping this dog upstairs.
He showed me to my room and bathroom, and then headed out for his customary sunset walk along the beach. Shortly after, though, he returned and said that his wife had just cleaned their “apartment” for me, instead. He led me back to the carport, and into a snug Airbnb-looking space they had apparently converted from a single-car garage. The space did contain a bathroom with a shower, a mini fridge, and a microwave, and he gave me the Wifi code. He said to make myself at home, and then departed to walk the beach.
It wasn’t clear to me whether we would be dining together, meeting up later to converse, or…?
Not having heard anything after an hour or so, I concluded that this room was intended to be my space here, and that we would not be interacting any more during my stay. It felt a little weird and awkward, but I ate the falafel I had brought, and decided I could use the time to do some Cambly tutoring.
I actually ended up staying there for much of the following day, since I learned that my next host, in Navarre, would not be finished with work until after 5, and it was only about a 20-mile ride, so I figured it wouldn’t take long. (I was also excited to check out a nearby vegan taco truck I had just found on Happycow.net. The panhandle in general is not a very vegan-friendly region, but this place was just a few miles away, and had rave reviews.) The downside of staying longer, though, was that this tiny “apartment” seemed to be very well sealed, so despite my running the bathroom fan continuously—even overnight—I felt rather damp and clammy inside.
Still, I managed to do Cambly tutoring for several hours that next day, and also wrote a blog post. And, I made a point to go out to the beach for a bit of fresh air; it was only a few blocks away.
Unfortunately, though, although this beach was pretty, there was no place to sit and relax, and I didn’t really feel like walking, so I soon headed back to my hosts’ place. I arrived just as they were driving away for work. I thanked them for the stay, and we said goodbye. I planned to leave shortly afterward.
Just after they drove away, though, I found that the code they had given me to unlock the door to my space no longer seemed to work.
Oof.
All my stuff was in there. I needed to pack it up and get on my way soon.
I texted the husband, who said he would return shortly to let me in. I felt bad to inconvenience him, but was thankful he was willing to help.
Then I just sat outside on the deck for about an hour, until he returned.
By the time I got on the road, I was sad to realize that the vegan taco cart had closed. (I later learned they had also been set up inside a military base that day, so without a military ID I would not have been able to go anyway. This was a foreshadowing of things to come, but at the time I just felt sad, but hit the road.)
Despite first appearing to be about half the distance I had traveled so pleasantly the previous day, this day’s ride was a nightmare.
First there was the delayed start. Then the taco truck miss. And then, just riding on Hwy 98, which is a serious auto thoroughfare, with heavy traffic and mediocre bike accessibility.
At one point, Google Maps sent me several miles out of the way, which I didn’t really want to do in terms of time-and-distance savings, but I could tell it looked like a safer and less unpleasant alternative to 98.
I biked probably at least two and a half miles on this “detour,” when I discovered that they had routed me through a military base. I was asked for ID, and when I didn’t have a military ID, the uniformed soldier informed me that I would have to turn around. He was apologetic, and said that this happens to them pretty often—cyclists come through, having attempted to follow their Google Maps routing, only to have to backtrack.
The day was wearing on, with the sun descending, and I did not want to retrace those two and a half miles, only to be plopped right back at the same spot on that blasted Hwy 98. Furthermore, the soldier warned me to be careful going around a big curve just in the distance: “Cars really go fast around there, and they might not be expecting to see a bike.”
Deflated, I pedaled carefully back. The detour wasn’t even much safer or more pleasant than 98, although when I returned to the starting point, it did indeed get worse as I was met with two fast lanes of auto traffic in each direction, no bike lane, and a sand-covered, debris-strewn sidewalk to cycle on instead.
Darkness was falling as I finally approached this oasis of a home in Navarre.
My host here, Kelly, was to be my cat sitting “host,” in her absence, for these two weeks just now ending (as I write this.) But before my sit, I was headed to Pensacola for a couple of days, and she was willing to host me for a night on my way out, which is the only thing that made the whole plan workable. We had a wonderful conversation—over a Thai meal she insisted on treating me to from a place just down the road—and I was so grateful for her warmth and hospitality.
The next day I set out for Pensacola, and once again, the bike-touring agony flipped back to ecstasy as I pedaled through nearby Navarre Beach. (Though the bridge from Navarre to Navarre Beach was not pleasant to bike on, with one auto lane in each direction, steady traffic, no bike lane, and a sidewalk much too narrow for my rig.)
After several miles, I left Navarre Beach and entered the Gulf Islands National Seashore natural area.
I couldn’t use the restrooms there without paying something like a $15-20 national-parks entrance fee, but I found some free restrooms a few more miles down the road, and meanwhile enjoyed the breathtaking, white-sand-and-aqua-water views to either side of the road. Nice wide bike lanes had returned, as well.
Eventually, I reached Pensacola Beach, where my Host a Sister host picked me up to ferry me the remaining few miles (and hills, and a staggeringly long bridge) to her home.
This is a quick post—mostly just some pretty pictures. In the midst of a fun but challenging month of traveling here in the Florida panhandle—not to mention simply living in the world and times we are living in—I do my best to fully soak in calm natural beauty when I find it.
I spent two nights and one full day with my Servas hosts Barbara and Steve in Panama City Beach. They live in a luxury complex, with a private beach.
Philosophically, I do not like the idea of private beaches. I think shorelines and beaches should be open to the public in most, if not all, cases.
Even so, I did partake of the private beach attached to their complex, and it was an amazingly serene place to spend a full four and a half hours, just contemplating life. Of course, in this day and age, “life” is not always a pleasant thing to contemplate. I spent about half that time marinating in all the horrors and injustices of this nation, and the world, at this moment in history. I did also manage to experience some bliss and a sense of connection to nature and the ocean’s vastness and beauty. The weather was perfect—warm but not too hot, and cloudy so I didn’t need to squint—and since this is the “off season,” I had the beach almost all to myself.
Barbara told me that in their complex, only about 15 of the housing units—out of well over 100 in the complex—are currently occupied! I would have thought that winter would be the peak seaon for this area, since the weather is pleasant; that is why I am in this place at this time, myself. But apparently many of the people who own homes or timeshares on the panhandle beaches actually live in Alabama or Mississippi or Georgia. Their weather is similarly unbearably hot and humid in the summer, so they move down to their beach homes, where at least they then have access to the gulf waters for swimming and views.
After soaking up the seaside environment for the late morning and early afternoon, I switched gears in the late afternoon and biked over to the nearby Camp Helen State Park. It was a beautiful, wooded area with many different pretty views as I wandered the paths.
Then I returned to the condo, just in time to meet up with Barbara, Steve, and their neighbors once again for dinner and another beautiful sunset.
Staying in this place for two nights felt like a wonderful oasis. In my current era of travels here in Florida, things can turn from fun and exciting to unpleasant and challenging, then back again, in a matter of days, hours, or even minutes. I savor these moments of calm and beauty when I find them.
Well, after that very challenging day, I got another few interesting days, filled with both beauty and more challenges.
I was pretty excited when I finally arrived at the Florida Caverns State Park. I had been surprised to learn that there were caverns in Florida, and I was looking forward to seeing them. Twice in my life, I had loved visiting Luray Caverns, in Virginia, and I just love the beauty of caverns in general.
However, I am embarrassed to admit that some of my fears started creeping in, as I considered entering. There were signs and warnings indicating that some passages were short (4 feet/1.2 m) and would require ducking, and some passages were as narrow as 2 feet/.61 m. I thought about some of the claustrophobic dreams I have had over the years, and worried whether I would feel OK during the hour-long cavern tour. I then derided myself for being “ridiculous” and a “scaredy cat,” and decided to go in… but then I got nervous again, and hesitated… but then I finally found my courage: I love caverns! I had biked a long, hard way to get there! And it was unlikely I’d ever be in this area again!
And then, of course, I was very glad I had talked myself into it. Ducking through those tight passages was no big deal at all, once I got inside.
It was a very informative group tour, where the guide talked a lot about this FDR-era CCC (Civilian Conservation Corps) project, and what the work would have been like for those workers who made the cavern “tourable” by the public. These would have been young men at the time, making very good money for those days, but working in dark and dangerous conditions.
The guide also pointed out two bats, sleeping in two different areas. Very cute. (I didn’t get photos, though, sorry.)
After the tour, I made my way back to the park entrance, and waited for my Host a Sister host, Bonnie, to pick me up. I was so grateful to Bonnie! She had flown in from a work trip to Washington, DC late the previous night, yet she was willing to drive 27 miles each way (43.5 km) to pick me up and take me to stay in her home in Graceville, near the Alabama border to the north, for the night. Without her help, it would have been very difficult for me to have had any of my panhandle adventures.
The next morning, she continued to be an amazingly generous host by then driving me about another 40 miles (65 km) south, to a gas station near the intersection of Hwy 20 & Hwy 77. This got me within a reasonable cycling range of my Servas hosts in Panama City Beach.
Google Maps had told me it would be a 30-mile ride (48 km.) However, its directions were ridiculous—which I’m finding is very common here in Florida—soon trying to route me onto a road in even worse condition than the ones from the other day. I stayed on Hwy 77, deciding to take Google’s next suggested turn. That turn was even worse, though: a non-road, barely a path through a field, and completely blocked off to me by a gate. (I really need to start using Ride With GPS for my routing.)
I decided to just default to staying on Hwy 77 until the next major westbound road. This added five miles/8 km to my day, which at my slow pace, was close to an hour. But the road surfaces were pretty good, and bike lanes not too horrendous, so it was worth it.
I passed some nice scenery as I approached Panama City Beach.
One such place was Gayles Trails, a nice hiking area with a boardwalk and some restrooms. I took a nice stroll and had a brief rest there, before continuing on.
At last, I reached my Servas hosts, Barbara and Steve, in their beautiful 6th-floor condominium overlooking both a lake and the bay. I arrived just as the sun was descending, which was amazing to see from the balcony.
Barbara and Steve had invited some neighbor friends over for dinner—two women from Colombia—and we all enjoyd good food and conversation, before watching the sun disappear over the horizon.
Well, I had thought I was going to write about Tallahassee! After my long (4 hr and 20 min) Greyhound ride from Spring Hill, I did spend a rich two nights and one full day there, staying with my Servas hosts Tim and Regine. (Who had been specifically recommended to me, I should add, by my amazing Fresno Servas host from back in May, Carole.) I also met up with two friends of Tim and Regine’s, Tom and Ka—also Servas hosts—and also attended a dinner party hosted by another friend of theirs, where I met many interesting folks: musicians, activists, and the like.
But I neglected to take any photos! (Except for these two beautiful collages that Ka created; she sent me photos of them to support me in my journey. I love them!)
The good news is, I plan to pass back through Tallahassee in a few weeks, and I’m looking forward to spending time with several of these folks—and riding a new bike trail—plus meeting a few more. Stay tuned.
After my second night in Tallahassee, Tim dropped me off at the bus depot downtown, where I caught a bus that drove me for about an hour into Quincy, the small town where my father’s mother was born and raised. I did not have any time to spend there, unfortunately, but I hope to find some time to do that on my way back.
Instead, I set off on my bike toward the tiny town of Sneads, where I was to stay in a hotel for the night, followed by a half day of riding to the Florida State Caverns (pics to come in the next post) where I was to be met and picked up by my next host, Bonnie. But I won’t get ahead of myself.
Riding out of Quincy, through the tiny neighboring town of Gretna, I tried to imagine what it would have been like for my grandmother as a child. The area is still rather rural, with a lot of poverty.
I stopped to look at the old Baptist church in Gretna, wondering if my grandmother—raised as a Baptist—might have attended services or special events there at some point.
Across the street was the old school. I didn’t get a good pic of the school itself, but I wondered if, again, perhaps she and her family had attended plays or other events in that building at some point.
I pressed on.
Shortly before arriving in Sneads, I stopped for a few provisions in the small town of Chattahoochee. I was surprised and delighted to find a very new-looking small plaza there, complete with bike parking, benches, tables, outlets for electronic devices, and even restrooms.
Sadly, after talking to a local—from a nearby community, I gathered— who was using his laptop at the table, I learned that the restrooms were actually closed due to recent vandalism. We shared a very small-world moment, though, when I learned that this man—a hippie-ish looking fellow in his late 50s, I estimated—had previously worked the Oregon Country Fair one year, taking Amtrak out and back to do so!
I got back on the road, passing a local prison shortly before arriving at the very welcome Lake Seminole Inn.
This hotel was in the middle of nowhere. Without it, I don’t know how I could have made this journey. I was deeply grateful, and received a warm welcome from the man at the desk.
The next day of riding was a bit more difficult than I had anticipated.
Not long after I left the hotel, the bucolic riding environment abruptly turned into a straight-up dirt road.
Wow.
Several miles of this. I did my best to count my blessings: 1) the surface was pretty hard-packed and smooth. (Could have been a lot worse!) 2) It was not currently raining, and hadn’t rained recently enough for it to be muddy. 3) But it also wasn’t dry enough for it to be dusty, billowing clouds into my lungs as I pedaled. 4) There was almost no auto traffic.
Still, that is not my preferred riding surface. I was so relieved to see the pavement reappear!
But that relief was short-lived, as the asphalt soon gave way to sandy dirt again.
This back-and-forth happened several times, over a number of miles.
At one point on that long brown stretch, I saw in the distance what looked like a human figure standing next to a bicycle.
That couldn’t be, though, right?
Several minutes went by, and the shape grew slightly larger as I approached. At some point, I was able to see that yes, it actually was a man walking his bike.
Wow.
He was walking in my direction. I hoped he wasn’t having mechanical trouble—what a terrible place for that.
As we finally passed each other, I saw that he was a young man, probably in his early 20s. I smiled and said hello. He glanced in my direction—from ten feet away or so—but barely acknowledged me, and said nothing.
I found this very odd, but not unprecedented that day. There had been at least three locals I had seen, in their yards or whatnot, to whom I had smiled and said good morning, and been met with no response. I was a bit puzzled, thinking “Aren’t Southerners supposed to be friendly?”
It wasn’t a racial issue, of Black locals distrusting a white outsider; although that area has a high Black population (someone had told me that Quincy is currently 90% Black) these particular folks were all white. But maybe they had indeed clocked me as an outsider (because who rides a rig like that out there?) and therefore were suspicious or standoffish. I did find it odd, though, especially from that poor guy who had clearly been walking his bike for miles.
About an hour later, though, one guy did yell out to me from his yard, “Beautiful day to be ridin’!” I smiled and agreed.
Finally, the earth gave way to pavement for the last time, and I enjoyed the last few miles of the ride to the caverns. I even got to pass some more of that magical Florida water, right alongside the road.
Hello from Panama City Beach! I’m slowly catching up on blogging my travels. My bike-traveling pace these past few weeks reminds me of my year of travels, four years ago, when I was blogging nearly every day.
When I left off in my last post, I was enjoying my last few days of time in St. Petersburg. Then, I was ready to head north to Spring Hill, Florida, to catch the Greyhound to Tallahassee. I broke up the riding into two days: Dunedin to Odessa, then Odessa to Spring Hill.
Since I had already biked from the start of Pinellas Trail to Dunedin, I began my journey there. My new friend Katherine was kind enough to ferry me and my rig from her dog sit in St. Pete up to Josiah Cephus Weaver Park, the end point of my ride a few days prior.
We took a final selfie, then she even captured a shot of me heading off to eat my snack on a bench before embarking. It was a beautiful park.
Once I got on the trail, the scenery was lovely. The weather was sunny and a bit chilly, but not too bad.
At one point, I crossed possibly the longest, two-direction bike bridge I’ve ever encountered. (Come to think of it now, one in Hayward, California might rival it.)
Shortly afterward, I rode through a beautiful painted underpass.
That evening, I arrived at the home of my wonderfully warm and gracious Warmshowers hosts, Don and Susan, in Odessa. Their daughter was visiting, too, and we all had a warm and filling homemade meal of vegan chili, courtesy of Susan. They all shared stories with me about their various impressive bicycle expeditions around the US.
The next morning, they saw me off (with leftover vegan chocolate cupcakes from the dinner!) and I was back on the trail.
The weather was even nicer that day—really just about perfect—and the scenery was lovely and peaceful. I took several meditative rests on the benches along the trail.
Toward the end of the day, I found a surprise on the side of the trail: the Spirit Tree. This seemed to be a place for people to honor loved ones who had passed away, on the branches and benches around the tree, with wind chimes throughout. It was a unique experience to stand underneath it.
Screenshot
Finally, I reached my resting place for the night—the fanciest-looking Motel 6 I have yet encountered!
It was a good place to rest before bicycling partway back along the trail the next morning to meet the Greyhound.
Hello from the small town of Graceland, Florida! I’m staying here for one night with a very generous Host a Sister host, Bonnie, who is helping me with rides to stretch out the distance I can go in the panhandle. More in a future post.
But now I want to share the remainder of my St. Petersburg time, and especially the beautiful sights of the Sunken Gardens. This garden is more than 100 years old, and has been owned and operated by the City of St. Petersburg since 1999. You may recall that I first visited these gardens in my year of travels, in 2022.
I hadn’t planned to go again this year, due to budgetary constraints. But I met up for coffee one day with my former Warmshowers host Kathleen, and she happened to have a free ticket she could share with me! I was so grateful and happy to be able to visit this beautiful place again.
Much of my nearly a week in St. Pete this time was sadly a bit chilly, windy, and/or rainy, so I didn’t spend nearly as much outdoor time as I would have liked. But even in the chill, I did get out a bit to enjoy the neighborhood scenery when I could.
One evening, my new friend Katherine invited me over to the penthouse condo where she was dog sitting to watch the sun set from the balcony. We talked more about the nomadic pet-sitting life, and watched a beautiful sunset over Tropicana Field’s iconic domed stadium.
In my last post, I left off as I arrived back in Orlando after roughly a week of bike touring the eastern part of the Florida Coast to Coast Trail.
I spent that first night in the hotel on the edge of Winter Park, and then the next day, rode to the home of my new Warmshowers hosts, Danny and Sarah, in a lovely classic neighborhood in the northern part of Orlando. They were cool hosts, of course interested in bicycling, but also very vegan-adjacent and eco-friendly in their approach to life. (Sarah had recently founded a local nonprofit focused on reducing solid waste, hosting clothing swaps and similar events.)
I used their home as a base for two nights, and explored the nearby neighborhood parks and bikeways in the intervening day.
I decided to give myself a “vegan splurge day” (rare within my extremely low-budget travel style) and treated myself to a decadent “fried chicken” sandwich at an acclaimed local vegan restaurant, Winter Park Biscuit Company.
Then I wanted to continue the splurge, so I pedaled over to the local vegan bakery, Valhalla Bakery. (To my delight, I later learned they have a St. Petersburg location too!) I enjoyed a rich chocolate Biscoff cupcake.
The next morning, I packed up and headed out to the Winter Park Amtrak station for my train-and-bus ride to St. Petersburg. The house was roughly equidistant to both the Winter Park and Orlando stations, so having arrived in Orlando twice already, I thought I would try something new.
The weather was sunny and 71F/22C as I left the house, but the forecast had led me to fear rain, even on this short 20-minute ride. Just as I was starting to sweat from the sun, and feeling foolish for having worn rain pants and my rain jacket, those fears were realized when the skies suddenly opened up.
I took shelter under a school awning for about ten minutes, but the rain continued pouring—for what my weather app seemed to suggest would be just another few minutes—when the timing started seeming urgent for me to get to the station. (I wanted to be careful to arrive at least 45 minutes before departure, since I would be checking my trailer. Some stations are very strict about these cutoff times, and I could not afford to miss being able to check it onto this Viewliner train; there would be no room in the coach cars to store it.) Sure enough, it only rained for a few more minutes, but that was long enough to get both me and my rig thoroughly drenched.
At the station, as I tried the door and found it locked, the attendant regarded me a bit like a drowned rat, and informed me somewhat tersely that the station wouldn’t open for another 15 minutes. (Apparently these folks were less concerned with the 45-minute window at this station—their opening time wouldn’t even allow for it. Guess I could have waited for the rain to stop.)
Dejected and dripping, I did manage to strike up a very friendly conversation with a woman in her 80s (she volunteered her age, as well as the fact that she was beginning to experience some symptoms of dementia, though she was taking the train alone—for her first time ever—to Tampa that day.) She was a retired schoolteacher, and was very taken with my way of travel. It cheered me up to talk with her.
Once I did make it inside, I ran into more hassles with the two staffers. The woman who had closed the door on me outside mostly avoided interacting with me at all—just interjecting disapprovingly a few times—while her male counterpart helped me to get the trailer checked. He seemed pretty accommodating, but he did later walk out to find me to let me know that technically the dimensions of the trailer were large enough that he could charge me for oversized luggage.
“I won’t this time, since you said other Amtrak staff have let you do it… but just so you know, technically you should pay the extra $20 [$30?] for oversized luggage in the future.”
Argh.
It’s always something.
I thanked him politely, but made a mental note never to depart from the Winter Park station again. I’m very glad to know that Orlando is so close by, since I will probably go through that area at least once more this winter.
The train ride to Tampa was pleasant, and I was seated next to a woman who had also founded a nonprofit—this time a global one, focused on an aging world population, and based on teaching people around the world to live more multi-generationally.
At the Tampa station, I transferred to an Amtrak bus to St. Petersburg. I had considered bicycling across the Gandy Bridge—as I had done four years ago—but decided against it, opting for the ease of a bus. And I’m glad I did, because it was a chilly and windy day in the Tampa Bay. I watched the choppy water as we drove under the clouded skies, and was relieved not to be out riding in the wind for those miles.
And sure enough, arriving in St. Petersburg, my weather app showed a “wind advisory,” with some pretty nasty gusting possible. I was glad I only needed to bicycle a few miles to my Warmshowers host’s house.
Unfortunately, the furnace at the house wasn’t working very well, and it got to be a very cold night, dipping down near freezing. I had thought I might be staying in that house for close to a week, since that host had graciously offered “as long as you need!” but fortunately, I found another host who offered a mother-in-law apartment above his garage for nearly a week, so I moved over there the next day.
While in St. Pete, I also got to meet someone really cool!
I had seen one Katherine Price in a few of my Facebook nomad, pet sitting, and Host a Sister groups. She has been living as a traveling pet sitter (mostly dogs, and traveling in her car) around the US for the past six years—about twice as long as I’ve been at it. We finally found ourselves in the same place at the same time, so we met up! It was so much fun to swap stories about our lives these past few years, and share various tips we had each learned. We planned to meet up again, and I’ll write more about that in the next post.
The following day, the weather was still a bit blustery and, although sunny, not terribly warm (high of 53F/12C) but I set out to cycle my first leg of the Pinellas Trail, about 30 miles/48 km from the trailhead in downtown St. Pete to Dunedin, up the coast a bit. The first part of the trail wasn’t all that scenic, and with the subpar weather, it was a bit of a letdown after that perfect last day on the eastern part of the trail.
But the second half was a little prettier, and I was glad to have done it.
I took a total of three buses back to the apartment, which took me more than two hours! But I felt accomplished at the end of that day.
I’ll write more about my time in St. Pete—and my travels from there to Odessa, then Spring Hill, and now Tallahassee—in upcoming posts.
Hello from St. Petersburg, Florida! The weather outside is frightful, so I’m staying indoors, writing this post and doing some English tutoring on Cambly.
I’ll write more about my time here later, but I still need to catch you up on my last day of the eastern portion of the Florida Coast to Coast Trail.
It was the most beautiful day of the trail yet, and really fun because it included a lot of animals! I’m including some here, but I also saw a snake (who slithered of the trail too quickly for a pic) and many birds, as always here in Florida. And the weather was perfect, warm and sunny.
Jean, my host in New Smyrna Beach, had told me that there would be goats along the trail. She sent me off with an “approved” snack for them: a bag of asparagus! It was really fun to feed them and spend time with them.
Jean had also told me to expect a gray tabby trail kitty, and she gave me some cat treats to share as well. Sure enough, soon after the goats, I found the kitty waiting patiently on the trail. The kitty seemed more interested in affection than treats (though they did eat the treats!) so I thought that was really sweet.
Later, I passed a swampy area and saw a gator and (not pictured) a big black bird and several turtles.
Then shortly afterward I saw another trailside tortoise, which seems to be a Florida thing.
The plant and tree life was beautiful, too.
I took my time and moseyed along the trail, taking many “basking breaks” on the plentiful benches along the way.
Things did get a bit challenging towards the end of the day, though. I had planned to ride about 38 miles (61 km) which was to be the longest of my “trail days” on this journey. I was proud of myself to do so, even though this distance would be considered quite mild by the standards of many bike tourers, who easily travel 60-80 miles in a day.
But I started feeling uneasy about the Warmshowers host who had offered to host me for the night. Although several days earlier he had confirmed that he and his wife could host me—and gave me their address, which was conveniently less than two blocks off the trail—he had stopped replying to my texts two days earlier. I had written to confirm a few things, and my phone indicated that he had read the texts, but had not replied. I had started to feel a little nervous.
He had stopped replying after I had mentioned my vegan diet. I had sent a text indicating that while I didn’t necessarily expect hosts to feed me, some did offer, and so I thought I should mention my dietary restrictions.
I had thus started to spin a story in my head that this couple might be very politically conservative, and perhaps they thought my vegan diet was a sign that I was “not one of them.” I remembered, a few years ago, reading a Warmshowers review from a solo male traveler about staying with a solo male host. (I should mention that from all my personal experiences, as well as reviews I have read on the site, the following is an extremely rare situation. But for obvious reasons, it stood out to me.) Apparently, the host had asked the traveler about his political views. The traveler briefly responded, but requested that they not talk about politics. The host—whose views were opposed to the traveler’s—then “trapped” the guest in his living room for several hours while delivering an impassioned political rant, complete with yelling and pacing across the floor.
Was something like this about to happen to me?? Assuming the host was even still available?
But… I needed a place to stay. And I was now about half an hour away. Maybe I was just imagining things?
I sat down at a rest area and considered my options.
I really didn’t want to pay for a hotel for the night, nor did I want to ride however much farther I would need in order to get to one. But to assess my options, I did search on Google Maps to see where the closest hotels were. I found one four additional miles away, and the pricing was not outrageous. I figured this could be my backup plan.
Then I thought I would look up the host’s Warmshowers profile again, to get more of a feel for him. I had recalled that his profile was quite sparse, and he had only a few very short (but positive) reviews. For this reason, I had been a bit hesitant to even request a night with him in the first place, but his location was perfect for my needs, so I had taken the risk.
But I was shocked to discover that now, when I went to review his profile, Warmshowers indicated that his listing had been deleted!
What??
Wow.
Now there would be no potential accountability of a bad review if he/they were to do anything inappropriate.
Now what?
I knew I had a backup plan, but I still wondered if I were just being paranoid.
I decided to try texting him one more time:
“Hey there, I think I should be arriving in about half an hour. Does this still work for you? (I just checked your WS account, and it looks like it’s deleted?)”
Then I got back on the trail. My stomach felt tight, and my mind alternated between “It’s probably totally fine!” and “I really need to be careful and protect myself.”
A few minutes later, he replied:
“OK! I am home.”
And he dropped a pin on the map showing his location, which matched the address I had.
What the….??? No mention or explanation of his two days of radio silence, nor his Warmshowers account status?
I made the decision to press on.
However, having now resigned myself to paying for a hotel anyway, I thought of a silver lining:
Initially, I had hoped to take the Sun Rail commuter rail from near this host’s house the following morning, to get back into Orlando without having to bike another 30ish miles (48 km) about half of which would have been in nasty Orlando-metro traffic. But I wasn’t going to be able to do that, because the Sun Rail only runs on weekdays, and it was now Friday afternoon.
I now realized, though, that if I were willing to bike even farther, I could take the Sun Rail this evening, and get a hotel in Orlando.
This seemed like the best option. The adrenaline from my confusion and fear fueled me on for the next several miles, as I pedaled toward the Sanford station, about ten miles away.
Amazingly, though, I stopped at one point to check that I was on the correct route, and realized that the DeBary station was about 100 yards away from my current location!
The train only ran about once an hour at this time of day… and I happened to see one pulling in right then. Doh!! I was going to have to wait another hour. But it still seemed worth it to rest for an hour at the station, while finding a new Orlando hotel and booking a reservation.
I made my way over, and got scolded by a platform attendant to walk my bike on the platform, not ride. I hopped off… and then found out from a train attendant that the train was having a 6-minute layover there!
What a miracle!
That attendant helped me to buy a ticket at the machine, and waited patiently while I disassembled the rig to get it onto the train. He showed me a bike space to store it… and I got seated just in time for the train to depart.
From my seat, I hurriedly looked up hotels, and booked one just outside of Winter Park, just northeast of Orlando. Then I texted my would-be host to let him know I would not be coming. (This was already about an hour after our earlier exchange):
“On second thought, I realized I wasn’t feeling entirely comfortable with all this, so I decided to press on and just get a hotel for the night. Thanks for your offer, though, and all the best to you!”
To my relief, instead his reply was, “Okay, no problem. We’re still here if you change your mind. Have a safe ride.”
Whew! My secondary guess about his behavior had been that he simply had very bad interpersonal/communication skills. As I had been debating simply staying there anyway, my gut told me the odds were about 50-50 of this. However, I didn’t like those odds. So, despite the extra cost and stress, I’m glad I prioritized my safety. But I still felt a little better about the world, receiving his reply.
(Oh, and weirdly, a day or two later I looked up his profile again from my laptop, not my phone, and it was there, not deleted! Could that have been simply a particularly poorly timed technical glitch??)
The bummer was that the hotel room was not non-smoking, so all my clothes and belongings ended up soaking in the smell of stale cigarette smoke, which took several days to dissipate.
Still, I was proud of myself for 1) having prioritized my safety; 2) having enjoyed the Sun Rail after all, rather than having a nasty 30-mile bike ride the following day; and 3) having biked 48.5 miles in one day (77 km)… a full ten miles more than what I thought had been my ambitious plan!
And, on the way to the hotel, I got to see this beautiful sunset.
The following day, I biked over to the Orlando Warmshowers hosts I would be staying with for the next two nights, before my trip to St. Petersburg.
This week of bike touring was challenging and rewarding. More to come on the Gulf Coast!
Hello from Orlando! I’ll have to catch you up in the next post about my journey here from New Smyrna Beach (and by that time I’ll be in St. Petersburg, where I’m heading tomorrow via a bike-train-bus combo) but for now, I’m going to cover two days of travel on my just-wrapped eastern Florida bike tour.
When I left off in the last post, I was taking a day of rest in Longwood with my Warmshowers hosts Lee and Sharon.
The following morning, I set out along the bike path (this segment was the Seminole Wekiva Trail) for points north—specifically, Lake Helen and my new Warmshowers hosts, Gary and Sharon.
I enjoyed the infrastructure of the trail: as you can see, there were tunnels, overpasses, and beautiful wooded areas, as well as local artwork depicting wildlife, mostly local.
Much of the early half of the trail was rather unremarkable—basically a wide sidewalk next to very busy roads. But the second half got very pretty.
At one point, I took a turn around a bend and found myself in an unexpected, otherworldly environment—a cypress swamp with a long boardwalk bridge/trail. In the next few days I was to encounter many more cypress swamps—they are common in Florida—but this one really hit me unexpectedly, and I took a few minutes to sit on a trail bench there and just drink in the magical environment, surrounded by tree canopy.
I didn’t get a pic, but a beautiful gray heron suddenly took flight from the swamp during that time. I really love those birds.
After that, it was several miles of thick, lush jungle-like riding, on a smooth, curving trail. It felt so magical, and the air was cooling off to a perfect late-afternoon temperature.
The last several miles of the day, I had to leave the trail and get back on roadways, which was a bit of a letdown, but that’s just a part of touring. By the end of the day, I had covered about 32 miles (51.5 km) which felt like a good achievement.
I arrived to Gary and Sharon’s house, where they fed me a dinner of grilled veggie dogs and vegetables, and then showed me to their guest quarters, which is a small but modern and fully equipped travel van outside their house. It was fun to feel like I was “camping” for the evening, and Gary had gone above and beyond stocking me up with vegan snacks: bananas, Clif bars, potato chips, and a few other items.
In the morning, I did a quick load of laundry, then got back on the road, this time to New Smyrna Beach, on the Atlantic coast.
Unfortunately, getting back on the bike trail would have meant very significant extra mileage, so I took roads the whole way. I expected to ride only about 21 miles (34 km) but it ended up being closer to 25 mi/40 km.
It started out kind of pleasant, but went sideways pretty quickly.
First, Google Maps sent me on a road that turned out to be private. It was funny, because Gary and Lee (and even Tom, the previous night) had all been extolling the virtues of Ride With GPS, as opposed to Google Maps, because they all complained of Google sending them on wild goose chases too many times. I had only experienced that once or twice, in quite a lot of riding, so I wasn’t too concerned. However, it did happen to me that next day!
I started down a pleasant, country road—seemingly a nice alternative to the higher-speed paved road with a minimal shoulder—but it soon became sandier and more rustic, and then it suddenly turned into a private driveway, with multiple signs indicating private property, 24-hour video surveillance, etc (no pic, for obvious reasons) so I turned back for a lumpy, bumpy two miles or so.
Soon after that, I ended up on the even wider, higher-speed Hwy 44. Luckily it had a pretty good bike lane. But then Google Maps routed me onto a “quieter” road, but it had no bike lane, and a minimal shoulder, and it was a pretty narrow road undergoing construction. I briefly considered turning around and taking my chances on Hwy 44 instead, but decided to press on. Eventually, it routed me back to Hwy 44 anyway… only now, the bike lane was horrendous—narrow, with a rumble strip on the left and grass overgrowth on the right. I also had to navigate a highway on-ramp under these conditions.
1/10. Would not recommend.
Finally, though, I made it to the welcoming home of my Host a Sister host, Jean (who turned out to be a Warmshowers host, too!)
I had a nice afternoon and evening spending time with her and her rescued Bengal cat, Mufasa.
And then the next and final day was to be the nicest day of the tour yet! Post to come soon.
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