You are currently browsing the daily archive for December 29th, 2007.
How we got here from the Hostel in the Forest perplexes me even now…
I awoke softly this morning, later than most other days in this venture. No alarm roused me from sleep–just that natural lifting of lids that comes with a rising sun and breezy coastal air. My mind is more awake than my muscles and as I’m trying to manipulate myself out of bed, Stephanie pokes her head through the door sporting the brightest smile and offering me a perky “good morning!”–Its a wholly great way to start the day. She offers to prepare a quinoa breakfast while I roll my belongings back into something transportable.
I take time to photograph some of the structures at the hostel, to complement those I took from the canoe last evening. By the time I get to the kitchen, breakfast is nearly ready. But I find a way to be useful, pouring coffee for Stephanie, and making tea for myself. At my request, Stephanie has made an enormous helping of quinoa, and I savour every chewy/nutty bite. Its an amazing food–if you have not yet investigated it, try it!
After breakfast we wash our dishes, and as long as we have the hot water running clean up a few other odd glasses, spoons and plates that are in and around the sink. Our bicycles are packed up and we are ready but before we go we grab a few brooms and sweep the walkways that wrap the domed common areas.
Its just after 0900 and we’re making circles with our feet, leaving the hostel. My knee doesn’t hurt anymore. My seat feels great, and my position is comfortable…renewed! I would like to have stayed longer, but I am also pleased to be back on the road, in that way that Kerouac’s characters always seem happiest when they are On the Road.
US-17 South provides an agreeable path to Florida, and the terrain continues this trend of becoming flatter and flatter. Stephanie asks if I would mind taking the lead. I remember telling her, in casual conversation near the beginning of this trek, that I am not-so-good at pacing. And its true! Whenever I ride anywhere–to work and back, downtown, friends houses, etc., I inevitably find myself clipping along as fast as I can, clicking my index shifters until I’ve reached my best speed. And I don’t think its about getting there sooner or anything so unappreciative of being where I am when I am there, so much as an exhilaration for using my body to its greatest potential.
So, I am a bit worried about maintaining a good pace, but happy to take the headwinds and let Stephanie draft me for miles to come. I check in with her from time to time, and we seem to be pacing agreeably. A precarious steel-grate bridge vibrates us to the edge of Georgia and we expel hoots and huzzahs as we cross the line into Florida, officially adding a fourth state to our winter-y tour. We decide on lunch in Yulee, Florida, and as we pedal into town we stop at a gas station to buy a map (we’ve been figuring out our directions as-we-go since Macon) and ask for the location of a grocery store.
We get directions to a Winn-Dixie, which I’m not looking forward to patronizing (The Beef People…seriously?!?) but we need some fresh fruit and a few other replenishments. I lean my bike into a right-turn lane on a hunch that Winn-Dixie will be just beyond a cluster of trees I can’t see around. I’m wrong, but Stephanie spies a natural foods store, and its an oasis for these hungry travelers! They have everything we’re looking for, and a deli to boot! I get an interesting sandwich made with a lima bean patty and bits from a tempeh salad. I buy more chocolate and spill quinoa all over their floor, but the owners are forgiving and clean up behind me.
Over lunch we examine this new map and set our bearings toward Jacksonville Beach. We’re not sure how far we will get today, and notice that A1A, our road of choice, spans the St. Johns river by ferry just south of the Big and Little Talbot Islands (which are also beautiful state parks–our ride through these islands is delicious). By our estimate, we will end up somewhere South of Amelia Island, but will likely be catching the ferry early tomorrow–and we’re only mostly sure it will be running.
And then suddenly we’re on the ferry and people are getting out of their cars to walk over and talk to us. Some of them use my camera to take our pictures. I eat boiled peanuts and toss the shells to the fishes. The ferry ride is a fun break, and too short! As we make our way South, the sun makes its way West, and the distance between us and nighfall is growing short. We stop in a Baptist church to ask if we can use a piece of their expansive lawn for the night and are met with the expected but unfortunate “insurance liability” line. Where Would Jesus Sleep?…haha! Still, the individuals we spoke to were helpful enough to offer directions to nearby Hanna State park. Its expensive, and Stephanie has to beg them to give us a site (10 minutes after the reservation desk closes) and we setup for the night. We’ve come a long distance for such a late start–just seven miles North of Jacksonville Beach! We’ve even seen a sign or two for St. Augustine, and I don’t think either of us expected to come this close today.
Hanna State park is expansive and coastal and we take a night-walk through a bike trail in an attempt to find the ocean. Light is scarce, and I’m navigating through the trees mostly by the fact that the trail is reflecting just a bit more light than the surrounding scrub. Finally we emerge onto the beach and after dipping my feet in the cryogenic ocean, find a sandy spot in the shadow of a dune to take in the stars. Its rare I get to see so many stars, and I start wondering about the link between urban life (which obscures the stars) and this forgotten notion of our belonging-ness in this vast universe. Wheras most of human history has slept under a star filled sky, the modern miracle of electric light ensures that most of us see only a fraction of the starry night poking through the contrasting black of a light-polluted sky.
A family extroverts their way from the boardwalk onto the sand–they have no idea we’re here and we decide to keep it that way, slipping back toward the campsite unnoticed–pausing only briefly to consider manipulating their discarded shoes into some kind of practical joke, but ultimately leaving them untouched ;o)
Stephanie reads while I take the longest shower of my life, and go to sleep, looking forward to returning to the sand tomorrow to photograph the sunrise.
About 78 miles today…
