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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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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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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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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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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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!
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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.
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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!
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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!)
Hello from St. Augustine! I’ll have lots more to write later about my recent travels, but right now I need to write about the wonderful time I had during my second visit to Tallahassee. This is a long post, but it covers a lot of beautiful and meaningful experiences and themes, so I hope you will “come along with me” by reading it.
I should perhaps start by mentioning that before this winter, Tallahassee had never really occupied any space in my mind. I do remember learning in fifth grade that it was the capital city of Florida, but beyond that, I had never really given it any thought. It had never entered my mind as a place to visit.
I’m so glad I did, though, first back in early February, and then again on my way back east after my panhandle adventures. It is a special place.
First, though, I want to detour a bit to mention an aspect of my life that has been growing in importance to me. It will tie into my “Tally tales” later in this post.
That is, animal communication. Telepathic animal communication, sometimes referred to as IIC (interspecies intuitive communication.) I touched on it at the end of my last post. Some of you may be familiar with the idea. If not, I recommend as an introduction to the topic this video of one of the world’s best known animal communicators, the South African woman Anna Breytenbach, in her work with a black leopard.
I’ve been interested in this topic ever since the spring of my initial year of travels, in 2022, when I stayed with a woman in Brooklyn, NY who told me some detailed personal stories of her own experiences working with animal communicators, first with her own cat, and then with a deceased cat of a family member of hers.
Those stories piqued my interest, and I did some research by first buying and reading a how-to book, and later attending a few online symposiums for animal communicators.
I had a resurgence of interest a few weeks ago, while cat sitting in Navarre. I reached out to a friend of mine who can do this sort of communication, and that friend was very supportive of my desire to learn. We have been doing video chats and messaging about how I can learn to do it. I’m feeling cautiously optimistic that I will indeed be able to develop this skill.
I practiced a bit in Navarre, with the two cats there, Nike and Sombra. I don’t think I’ve “got it” yet, but I did notice some changes in their behavior after my efforts (for example, more eye contact and more physical affection) so I found that encouraging.
Also in Navarre, I spent some time relaxing on the backyard swing. When I did so, I noticed many brown anole lizards appearing on the wooden support posts next to me, often making eye contact with me, and staying close by for longer than I would expect. It all felt very potentially powerful and exciting.
On the last morning of my Navarre cat sit, my host, Kelly—who had just arrived back after a trip to Egypt—incredibly kindly drove me 25 miles west to the Greyhound stop in Pensacola. I had mistakenly understood that the Greyhound made a stop in Navarre, which had led me to feel comfortable accepting that sit. When I realized the bus did not stop there, I was really concerned about how I would get back to Pensacola in an efficient way to catch it. When Kelly offered the ride, I was immensely grateful.
That Greyhound ride itself lasted more than five hours, but it passed without incident, and I found myself back in Tallahassee for four more nights.
It is a lovely city, hillier than most of Florida, with beautiful tree-lined streets.
I stayed once again for two nights with my wonderful Servas hosts Tim and Regine.
On my second day there, they hosted the Servas potluck I had arranged by reaching out to other local Servas hosts. Unfortunately, of the five households in the area, only two others were available that day, but we had a lovely potluck with Tim, Regine, a new-to-Servas member named Amy, and Tom, who was an existing longtime friend of Tim and Regine’s, and who was to be my next host.
I love the idea of connecting local Servas folks with each other; I’m going to set an intention to do more of that as I travel.
While staying with Tim and Regine, I ventured out for the kind of nature-park exploring I typically do in any new place. I set out first for the Goodwood Museum and Gardens, which was beautiful with the spring flowers.
Then I looked on the map and found a park—Governors Park—that honestly looked kind of boring, but I thought I would give it a try since it was nearby. I arrived and my fears were somewhat confirmed: instead of my preferred park terrain of forested trails, I found a large open field. I set out to walk the perimeter, though, and I did enjoy some nice views of the blue sky and open grass with a few trees.
As I rounded the third corner, though, I spotted what looked like a bit of a wooded trail.
Earlier, upon entering the park, I had seen a man seemingly hovering near the opening of that trail, which had made me a bit wary to explore it; that was why I had chosen to walk the sunny perimeter instead, despite the heat.
But I didn’t see anyone there now, so I ventured in. I was enjoying the shady path when I spotted that man sitting on a fallen log across the trail just ahead. I felt another moment of wariness, but then reminded myself that most of my encounters with strangers tend to go pretty well. So I chose to engage with him, by asking if he knew how much farther the trail went. He stood up and said he wasn’t sure—he had just stopped there on the log to eat his apple.
Then things turned magical, as I am continually finding they are wont to do.
We talked for probably at least 30 to 40 minutes… mostly about animal communication! It turns out he has been practicing it—though via a different approach from mine—for some years. (He said he had never talked to any humans about it.) His main approach has been to go out into nature parks as he travels (he also travels around Florida by bike, as it turns out) and sit very still, just allowing his presence to sink into the forest. He will return to the same spot for multiple days in a row, and he finds that as he does so, the animals will slowly make themselves more known, growing closer to him with time. He gave several cool examples.
In fact, he told me that about 20-30 minutes earlier, he had seen a snake on the trail, who slowly began moving toward him. As is his habit, he made a point to keep any visceral fear in check, and instead welcomed the connection with the snake.
Even more amazingly, he said he had noticed me shortly beforehand, walking on the other side of the field. He had suddenly felt struck by a compulsion to run over towards the opening of the trail to call out to me to come and look at the connection he was having with this snake.
What?
Wow.
The world is so strange and mystical sometimes.
He had decided not to do so, which was probably for the best, I thought, for various reasons… but… wow.
It was really cool to talk about many aspects of animal communication, consciousness, etc.
As I walked away after thanking him for the rich connection, I knew I needed some time to digest and soak it all in, so I found another little wooded spot nearby. Then I went back to the entrance of the park to unlock my bike (main pic in this post) and pedaled off to the natural-food store, all the while marveling at the magic of travel, consciousness, and the human and animal family we are all a part of.
After the dinner potluck the next evening, Tom helped me to load up my rig into his car, and we drove the few short miles to his longterm (40 years!) home with his wife, Katya. I had met these two briefly during my last stay with Tim and Regine, but this time I was able to stay as their guest for two nights.
They are both amazing people. Tom—who just had his 78th birthday—is still working as a professor at nearby Florida State University, and Katya (who sometimes goes by Ka) used to live in Portland in the 1970s, founding and contributing to various feminist and radical communities at that time! Talk about magic!! I was so excited to spend time with her and hear some of her stories. She also is a prolific collage artist. (I shared a few of her pieces in my earlier Tallahassee blog post.) And she writes haiku every day! More on both of those to come at the end of this post.
In addition to connecting with Tom and Ka, my main priority for staying at their house was to bicycle the nearby St. Marks Trail. It is a 16-mile rail-trail that goes all the way down to the gulf. The 32-mile round trip (plus a connector trail that goes right near their house) was a perfect day trip for me.
I found more magic on the trail. The weather was perfect—warm and sunny—and the greenery and shade were beautiful.
I experienced what I considered to be more magical animal connections, too:
First there was a small frog—the only one I have seen in Florida—who appeared on a bench I rested on, early in the day. It stayed near me for at least five or ten minutes, as I gazed upon it and did my best to connect on an energetic level.
Later, I saw a small tortoise on the trail, though I feared for its safety—I had nearly hit it, since it was hard to see on the trail—and it seemed to fear my presence, pulling its head in. I did kneel down to peer at it, hoping it would emerge. It did not, though I did notice it looking at me, blinking from time to time. Eventually I decided I should leave it in peace, so I moved on.
Then later, on another bench where I rested, a green anole showed up! Like its brown cousins in Navarre, it regarded me from a variety of angles. I have really been enjoying my anole connections ever since then. They seem to enjoy connecting with humans.
When I got back to the house at the end of the day, I was greeted by another magical being, Tom and Katya’s cat Jenny. She has a special way about her that mesmerizes anyone who meets her, Ka told me. She certainly mesmerized me.
Ka shared some haiku that she had written about me and my way of life, which I found delightful!
Then, after dinner, we dived into a collage-making session. I decided to focus on the theme that was top-of-mind for me, in the end creating more of an “assemblage,” as Ka called it, rather than a traditional collage that covers the whole page. I was very happy with it.
Each of the animals had significance for me: the frog because I had just connected with a frog that day; the giraffe because it is the symbol for the heart-centered Nonviolent Communication (NVC); and the monkey because I was excited to reconnect with the monkeys at Jungle Friends in the next few days.
Katya encouraged me to also write a haiku, based on the assemblage. After a few shaky attempts, I managed to find one that felt good to me:
Frog, giraffe, monkey
What do they all think about?
I will try to know
—
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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.
