You are currently browsing the daily archive for December 30th, 2007.
The sun is coming up faster than our legs are carrying us to the shore, and as we reach the road that wraps through the park, we opt to break into a run so we don’t miss the rebirth of our favourite golden disc into its daily routine. Of course, this notion completely ignores logic–what we have actually woken so early to see is the earth spin rather than the sun rise. But everything is relative, and it is the apparent motion of the sun that tells us we’re on the move. And we are moving as the boardwalk melts away to white Florida sands and my ears fill with the rush of water breaking over water! Jonathan Livingston Seagull and other children of The Great Gull make a pass overhead and I find a stationary point to observe the waking world before me. Stephanie keeps moving–throwing her hands to the sky, flailing every limb–running, jumping, and spinning down the beach, free as the birds in the wind.
The sun takes its time, overcoming not only horizon but also dense cloud cover, making for a slow but grand entrance onto this morning’s stage. In the meantime, the progressive display of colour proves too deep and beautiful for any camera to capture. I can see Stephanie in the distance in what appears to be communion with the horizon–perhaps whirled into a meditative state. Later she tells me she sees dolphins. Eventually, Apollo’s light-laden chariot peeks above the clouds which you might easily mistake for a range of mountains (perhaps I have grown accustomed to seeing them in the distance…).
Back at camp we are visited by a woman named Terry who, in true camper-community style, walks right up and sets down at “our” picnic table for a chat. I feel innately curious about other people, and I suspect many others feel the same way–but its seems often that social constructs get in the way of this natural draw, and so I am really glad that this soul feels free to answer the call. She is intrigued by our bicycles, and we tell our story again for what seems like the millionth time now, but happily, and I’m smiling no less despite the number of times I’ve repeated myself. In truth, the story changes a little every day (and still is!).
Shortly we are on the road again, towards St. Augustine. We don’t have much distance to cover today, and I am kissing the winds again. My energy is a bit low, but I am far more aware of the role my mind plays in this game of spinning sprockets, and manage to keep myself out of that mental pit that cursed my transit to Brunswick.
A1A between Jacksonville Beach and Vilano Beach is mostly beach houses of peculiar architecture, and undoubtedly worth more money than I will see for a long time…! Some areas are nature preserves, but all areas are good cycling, sometimes having a wide enough shoulder that we can ride abreast. And then we see that enormous cross that punctuates the St. Augustine skyline, and rooftop after rooftop of Spanish tile. Two miles from town we stop at at service station to use the restroom, and find ourselves engaged in a conversation with a man intent on encouraging us to keep going. I’m sorry I don’t remember his name, but he was retired, and convinced that we needed to be doing what we were doing while we were young enough to enjoy these pursuits.
It seems every person we talk to can identify with our journey, and that each of them help us realize what we’ve embarked upon. We come to know ourselves best through others–through relationships–and this man’s deep blue eyes urged us forward with his tales of Alaska.
St. Augustine is gorgeous. The weather is no less than perfect, and we breeze into town in the early afternoon–this city is our stopping place for the day, and the short distance traveled today means we can enjoy a well-deserved afternoon relaxing. Quickly, we find our way to a quaint little shop where we buy an exceptional amount of food–vegetarian burritos and hummus with pita and smoothies! And then its chocolate and coffee on the lawn of Castillo de San Marcos where we also enjoy quick naps and reading in the sea breeze.
Our route back to Gainesville will include Hawthorne, and we’ve decided that when we get there we will find our way to the Gainesville-Hawthorne Rail Trail, figuring this will make for a nostalgic sort of homecoming. We entertain the idea of calling ahead to friends who could meet us at the Hawthorne trail head for a grand escort back to Gainesville. We’ll make these calls tomorrow when we have a better estimate of when we’ll arrive in Hawthorne.
I’m intent on finding a particular pizza place for dinner that I think Stephanie will enjoy (I know I will!) and take off my panniers to go find it. With all the weight absent, I am wobbly at first, and then incredibly nimble! I’m zipping around corners and up and down the streets of downtown, but can’t find my place. Eventually one of the horse-drawn carriage drivers clues me in–Pizza Garden has moved to Anastasia Island. This is perfect–Anastasia is our next move–we want to stay there in the state park. Directions in head I zip back to the fort and collect Stephanie and head off to dinner.
The state park is full! So we head to Pizza Garden with hopes that the staff there might have some suggestions for us. No sooner than we place our order do the storm clouds roll in and drench the skies! So we take our time eating and sharing a bottle of Chianti. I think I have consumed most of the bottle, but Stephanie is pretty sauced, and takes pictures for posterity.
Its now very dark and we have no idea where to sleep, so we start finding our way in a Southerly direction, eyes open for urban stealth-camping opportunities. And after a few questionable locations, we finally find a cozy spot among some bushes next to a roped-off parking lot behind a fence behind a for-rent convenience store…whew! We go to sleep late and anticipate waking early to remove ourselves from this location before garnering any attention from anybody.
No sleeping bag, just a head full of Chianti and a need for sleep :o)
About 42 miles today…
