The ferry hopping is in it’s final stages. One more 42 hour stint to go, dodging perfectly blue iceberg sculptures. There’ve been a couple of notable moments, both announced over the PA in between Petersburg and Juneau.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you look to the port side you’ll see a killer whale. I repeat, killer whale on the port side”.
Not an everyday phrase! There was a massive killer whale a few hundred metres off the boat. It was moving fast, and even from a distance it was clear to make out the spray. A jaw-on-the-ground moment to see something like that first-hand and not through the eyes of the BBC. It emphasised just how much big life is in the water up here. Definitely a “pinch me” moment for all viewers judging by the gasps and air of excitement. A downside to travelling light is only carrying a small selection of camera gear (no telephoto lenses), so here’s blurry pixels.
There’s been a high pressure spell recently too, so it’s been hot. The perfect weather for hanging out on the sun deck on the boat and taking a nap. When you get woken up mid-nap with an announcement over the PA that says “Welcome to Cake!”, it’s really exciting. Cake? Where? Unfortunately it had nothing to do with cake at all – we were just pulling into a port in Kake to drop some passengers off.
Floatplanes are cool. Ever since first seeing a floatplane land on water, it’s been something that I’ve longed to try. Seaplane docks seem to be a part of every small town in South East Alaska – they’re used to drop people off in remote places, to search for schools of fish so the locals know where to go for maximum success, or simply for commuting between islands. Whilst in Petersburg I bumped into Doug from Nordic Air, who was in between flying jobs. He didn’t have any time for a proper interview but there was time to make a 5 minute flight from water to land, catch a few brief words and capture some aerial footage. It was a ton of fun. Hope you enjoy it.
Customs. There hasn’t been a trip-post for a while, as a lot more time than expected was spent in the city of Prince George chasing up a new set of wheels through customs. It was nice to settle for a while, and explore the city, but a few days would have been plenty. By the end of a two week(!) stint in PG, I was getting frustrated. Several days were spent taking shelter in this doorway, which was an unusual but functional base. And there were obvious upsides to an extended period of static time – mainly a solid amount of work was done, but by the end I was absolutely ready to move on.
But maybe these are all just soured memories, as Prince George was the place that has caused the most physical pain so far. It wasn’t in some kind of epic crash, or brake failure, or in fact anything bike-related. As it turns out, walking face first into an air conditioner just really hurts and will leave a lump on your head for days.
It was the afternoon of day 206 when the wheels finally showed up. Being a fairly critical part of the project, I was over the moon to see they’d arrived, and ran to a bike shop to get them to swap over the cassette, making the bike a working item once again.
Outside the bikeshop, I met local resident and all around top dude Erik (on the bike below), who in the last couple of years had racked up some serious cycling experience, taking 6 week trips in Yukon and Alaska. He’s got a big plan taking shape right now that involves taking an extended leave from his job as a prison guard, to cycle across Canada, West to East, meeting with long lost family in various cities along the way.
Erik had some hilarious stories from his cycling in remote places, offered a place to crash in his basement (no more doorway!), and made it clear that he was the CEO of the BBQ, when he grilled up some stellar steaks. It was a great way to end a long spell in BC’s northern capital.
The morning of day 207. After the last couple of weeks, my motivation for cycling was at an all time high. It was a cracking day, the bike was working like a dream, and I was gunning for it. Standing up and pushing down on the climbs, face to the handlebars on the downhills. They don’t come much better than this.
CRUNCH. Are you serious?
Crunch. 70km, and now I’d somehow managed to rip the rear derailleur out of the hanger, bending and de-threading the hanger in the process. If you’re thinking I might have been frustrated by this, then you’re totally right. Fuming. Luckily there was a spare hanger kicking about (they’re unique to each frame so it’s a good idea to carry a spare – often bike shops have to order them in), but on closer inspection of the derailleur it was knackered and completely out of shape. I ended up hitchhiking 30km west to a campsite in the town of Vanderhoof.
The next day, the folks at Omineca saved the day. They had the right derailleur in stock, and were cool about letting me use their workshop and expertise to get the bike into a decent condition. The aim was: this has to stop happening. This service, right now, is going to fix the bike for the foreseeable. Luckily it has so far.
The day of the service, there wasn’t much progress made, but since then it’s been a great phase of being on the road. Motivation for progress is high, and I’m back in the swing of things. There’s been some horrendous headwinds, incredible downhills, uphill slogs, jaw-dropping landscapes of snowy mountain peaks, and loads of ‘Beware of Moose’ signs. I’ve been frantically looking around excitedly but am yet to see any. Hopefully in due course.
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The route for the last few days has been: Prince George – Vanderhoof – Fraser Lake – Burns Lake – Smithers – New Hazelton (where this is being written). From here it’s West to Prince Rupert (Canada likes the royal names huh?), and then it gets super exciting. All going well, the plan is to get a boat into the depths of Alaska and continue from there.
“The one talent I think I have more than anything else is persistence. I just won’t give up. So when I was trying to be a director, I put myself 35 thousand dollars in debt, but I was determined that it was going to work out. I wasn’t going to stop until I figured it out. It just was unfathomable.”
Meeting Ruben was something I’d been looking forward to, partly because I dig his work, but also because he questioned the traditional path and carved a unique route to get to where he wanted to be. It takes guts, determination and a belief in what you’re doing to commit so much, financially and otherwise, in chasing where you think you should be, especially when at the time it was such an untested path.
“I used to dub my reel onto VHS, and send it to production companies, and it was expensive to make the tapes, to buy the tapes, to send them to the companies, so I just started putting videos on my website, and this was before Youtube, so I would just host them all. And then I also had a news site on my website, which was kind of like an early blog type thing, where I would, in HTML, type the date and write stuff like ‘this is what I did today’ and ‘this video just fell through’. Just trying to figure out how to make it as a director.”
Brad is originally from Boston, and as a teenager sold drugs, until he was caught. On the day he was released from the jail that he’d spent the last 10 years in, he had a couple of options. Do something that would land him back inside – like punching someone, or choose a different path away from the place he’d now become comfortable. He chose to literally walk away. He’s been walking for the last 13 years.
“After 10 years, I had 60 dollars and one piece of paper. They dropped me off, right downtown Boston. Thousands of people, I didn’t understand what, who. I was taken care of for 10 years. I didn’t know how to live. I was scared and nervous, because I didn’t know how to react around these people. So, I seen a crossing guard, across the street. And I said, well, if I go and hit this guy, I can go right back home. But inside, my emotions in side me said no, just give it some time.”
Here’s a short film made in collaboration with Brad. Hope you take something away from it and share it with anyone who may be interested.
One of the most fun and rewarding things about this project is just the range of people who are stoked to tell their story and the lessons they’ve picked up along the way. People from all walks of life. This time it’s the turn of Martha Higareda, an actress from Tabasco, Mexico – who tells a story about how persistence can pay off in unusual ways.
“That burning desire is what you need to keep having. If that’s your passion, and you’re sure about it, keep doing it. You can be working at something else. Fine. That’ll give you your food, and pay the bills. But if you are passionate, just keep doing it.”
“The truth is that none of us have really done this before. And when you accept that, and just do your best, or try your hardest and learn as much as you can, I feel like when you rise to those challenges, it’s very satisfying because you’re constantly at the edge of your competence…”
Quick post from San Francisco; a new Vague Direction People video. Chatting with Matt Mullenweg.
Matt’s the co-founder of WordPress (more here), which is the online publishing platform that powers a huge amount of sites online, but rather than get into anything technical, we discussed the choices he’s made, work life balance, risk taking, and pursuing something you truly believe in.
“I think it’s important to keep things in perspective on the positive and the negative. It’s not the end of the world. Really what perspective is, when you think about the word itself, it is taking a step back.”
Been taking shelter from a major thunderstorm for the last couple of days in South West Lousiana. Quick (rushed) catch up post today with phone images.
Day 57: Baton Rouge
Rest day in Baton Rouge. Spent the day getting organised and exploring. *Techy system alert* Decided to change up the stove system I’ve been using. It was a penny-stove. It’s now an MSR Whisperlite. The new one is heavier, but opens up the possibilities (i.e. you can do more than heat up tins or cook noodles). Also, the penny stove was a bit of a faff and the Whisperlite will fare better in the more remote parts of the route. Faff reduction – always a good thing. One of the things that life on the road makes you miss is a kitchen so this simple change is quite exciting.
Other than that it was awesome just to have a break. Louisiana seafood has been recommended a lot, so I found a little place near the motel to try the raved-about Gumbo, which is kind of like a seafood soup / rice combo. A great little local spot run by an old woman called Louise, funnily enough. Southern hospitality really is inspiring, the reports are true. She was totally cool and told great (and terrifying) stories about the local fishing community working in the fairly regular Gulf storms. The Gumbo was amazing, too!
Day 58: Baton Rouge to New Roads (33 miles)
Leaving Baton Rouge, it all changed. The contrast from urban and industrial to vast green countryside happened within the space of about a mile. The busy and intimidating Baton Rouge roads quickly lead to some of the best and quietest roads so far. Totally quiet, rural roads through old plantations. Super quiet, the only thing to listen to was the sound of cows, frogs and birds. A bit therapeutic.
It was always going to be a short day, after a late start. And it didn’t take too long to reach the end. Sunday in New Roads that meant everything other than a petrol station was shut, but in terms of a town atmosphere, it was a good one. An amazing old waterfront town, with the atmosphere and aesthetics of a Western film. Stealth camped right in the center of town in a park.
Day 59: New Roads to Lebeau (51 miles)
Late start making pancakes and pineapple on’t new stove. That’s the way to start the day!
It was all going so well. Stoked to get a big day in. But of course it’s never that simple! Sometimes, rather than after-the-fact write ups, it’s good to know what was happening at the time. I use Evernote to keep note of everything that happens throughout the day, and this is from Day 59’s note:
“Like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Except less comedy, more horror. Another puncture. Cycled the same stretch of road, twice now leaving NR. PITA bike.”
Whilst cycling out of New Roads, after about 7 miles, I got another puncture. Seems to be happening a lot recently. After a lot of faff, and the irritating realisation that the pump I picked up in Baton Rouge is a piece of crap, it was eventually sorted after hitching a ride back into New Roads (Cheers Susan!).
Bumped into Paul Guillott, a retiree who now spends a lot of his time exploring his home state on his Honda. By his own admission, he’s “living the dream” which is amazing. Sometimes he and his wife will just take off on the bike and travel up to 650 miles in a day, just to see a new place that they’ve never been to before. His bike is kitted out. Think heated leather seats and thumping music. Unfortunately Paul wasn’t in to the suggestion that we swap bikes. Gutted.
Also, I met a cyclist called Glen today who was cycling the Southern Tier route from West to East. He was on a snazzy lightweight road bike, with just a very light rucksack on his back, and clearly in a rush. Travelling light, and bouncing between hotels after taking 36 days leave from his work in Pennsylvania, he was gunning for it, averaging 92 miles a day. It’s always facinating exploring the 6 degrees of separation theory. Glen had lived in the Lake District and Guildford for a year during his college days. Small world.
The ride, after the puncture-faff, went well. It didn’t take long for it to get dark after setting off so late, so it was a lit up night ride. Ended up camping in a field in a tiny, tiny little village called Lebeau.
Day 60: Lebeau to Kinder (63 miles)
Up at first light, and on the bike early. Definitely the way to do it if you’re after doing big days. Bumped into Terry in a town called Washington – the jolliest chap in Louisiana, who provided the first indication of what was to come.
“You be careful now. You’re gonna want to bunk up for the next few days. There’s going to be 8 inches of rain coming down this evening.” I checked the forecast, and he was spot on.
The storm was due at about 5pm. So luckily there was still a good few hours to make a bit of progress. Through Opelousas, Eunice, Basile and Elton, and eventually ending up at Kinder when the rain started to fall.
Day 61: Kinder (5 miles)
The forecast was right. There’s a major storm here. Intense rain and lightning every minute. Some of the schools are closing due to flood warnings, so it’s not something the locals are taking lightly. They’re hunkering down, so being on the road isn’t too appealing. Sitting it out in a budget motel for a night.
I was talking to a couple of people earlier, and when talking about what they get up to in Kinder, they mentioned the Casino was “the only entertainment for miles around.” Gambling is a huge part of American culture, so I was interested to check it out, and of course win big with my $10. Unfortunately filming wasn’t permitted, but it was a unique experience for sure. Such an in-your-face atmosphere with all the lights and the music bombarding the senses. It was eye opening to see the locals who come every day, and spend all day here. It was as though life had vanished from behind their eyes as they looked into the slot machines and pulled the lever, time after time, hoping for a big win whilst simultaneously losing money. One of the themes that a lot of the people in the casino talked about, was how they had begun regularly gambling once retired. It’s easy to see how that world can hook people who are looking for something to fill their time with.
Day 62: Kinder
Just a rest day in Kinder. Nothing much to report about today. More intense rain, a little less lightning. Setting off tomorrow to try and make Texas in the gap between storms. The Texan state line is in sight, which is where the riding gets ‘serious’ apparently.
“Make sure you don’t lose your mind in East and Central Texas! After that it’s some of the best riding out there”. Glen mentioned that East and Central Texas is for sure the hardest part of the Southern Tier route, with the gradients and the nothingness, so it sounds like it’ll be interesting.
Ready for something deep? I’ve been having a few mental battles recently about what this all means, whether it even is meaningful, the pace and people, and coping with the solo aspects of travelling – there’s a dark side for sure, in the mind. The metaphorical roller coaster ride was always expected, though, so it’s not a concern. On the down days, it’s people like Louise, Paul and Terry who, by telling their story, provide much needed positivity and a mental lift. It’s great to completely forget about the route, the cycling, the blog, the filming etc sometimes.
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Quick link. I recently did a guest post for BicycleTouringPro which you can read here. Take a look around the site too, it’s crammed full of useful info, great stories and motivating adventures – a great resource if you’re wanting to know about anything to do with cycle touring.
Excuse the radio silence for the last few days, the blog has been frozen for longer than intended. But, there’s a story behind it, so let’s dive right in. Quick iPhone photos/video to accompany.
Day 51 – Daphne, AL to Lucedale, MS (56 miles)
Set off from Daphne and after a mellow ride out of town, arrived on the outskirts of Mobile, AL. It’s a really impressive aesthetic city, with some amazing buildings. In contrast to that, just 5 miles further out of the city, it’s a different story entirely. Towns which were obviously thriving just a few years ago, now totally quiet. No people, everything boarded up, abandoned stuff. The recession hit hard.
More night riding, and through the Alabama / Mississippi state line, I ended up at a diner in Lucedale, MS, where there was probably 100 people packed in. It was Sunday night and these were all church-goers who were on their way home from church. It was the 30th December, so it was a celebratory New Years dinner. Here’s just a few of them. Such positive folk.
Day 52 – Lucedale, MS to Wiggins, MS (38 miles)
Groggy morning waking up in another stealth camp. This time in a park. Life of luxury, eh? Up and away early in an attempt to re-jig the body clock. Straight out of Lucedale was amazing. Dense dewey fog hovering above green farmscapes. There was really nothing in between Lucedale and Wiggins other than countryside. No towns, no people, few houses. So it was a simple town-to-town ride, ending in Wiggins, a tiny little town, to see in New Year. The people of Wiggins were really welcoming, and explained that the county was a dry county, and most people leave town for New Year to the coast. So it wasn’t very rock and roll, but there were some fireworks so all’s well that ends well.
Day 53 – Wiggins, MS to Bogalusa, LA (43 miles)
You know when you’re riding your bike and a fly ends up in your mouth? This happened for the majority of the day today.
Another state line, Louisiana. Get in.
It was grey and cloudy. The kind of clouds that you look at and think it might drizzle lightly for a few minutes. And then it did. But it was Louisiana rain. Nature’s power shower, with no let up. I wasn’t prepared for it at all. The waterproofs were stuffed in the panniers, somewhere. Electronics weren’t in their dry bags. So it was a frantic rush to make sure everything was safe from the rain. And then to try and find the waterproofs. I’d not ridden in heavy rain before this, and it was actually really enjoyable.
Ended up camping on the outskirts of Bogalusa, with totally drenched kit. Waking up with clothes that were still wet, and heavy, definitely influenced the following days decision.
Day 54 – Bogalusa, LA to Franklinton, LA (20 miles)
The last few days have been really hilly. Moving inland, away from the coast, the game is starting to change: rain, headwind and hills. It’s making a big difference, and after the wheel incident, I’m focused on shedding as much unnecessary weight as possible. So first on the ticklist was to visit a post office and ship a bunch of stuff on to California. For now the focus is on light. What a difference it made. The first few miles out of Bogalusa were like riding a new bike with a slightly higher average speed. Unfortunately, sending the stuff on had taken a long time, so it was a late start.
After an hour of cycling, it rained again. Heavy rain, just like yesterday. This time wasn’t as horrible; jackets and waterproofs were at the ready. But going through Franklinton, there were loads of obvious spots to set up camp. An early finish to a late start.
Day 55 – Franklinton, LA to Baton Rouge, LA (73 miles)
Cycling is a funny game. After nearly two months of riding, it’s less physical, far more mental. You can tell at the start of the day whether it’s going to be a big day.
Today started this way. The Sat Nav showed that I had 106 miles remaining (to New Roads, LA.) As that number decreases, there’s no way you’re stopping. Not until it’s reached zero. That is unless something happens that stops you. “Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.” It’s true, you know, that well known saying. So after several hours of going for it, the bike lighter than ever, hip-hop music blasting in my ears, huge wide shoulders through inspiring Louisiana countryside, there was a very strange clicking noise, and it was obvious something wasn’t right.
The clicking turned out to be a piece of wire that had gone straight through the rear tyre and punctured the tube. It’s not been a good run lately, but no worries, it’s only a puncture. That’s what the toolkit’s for.
The bicycle pump is usually in my camera bag. That’s where it’s been for the last 55 days. So why was it not there? After a confusing few minutes, emptying all the pannier bags in search of the pump, it was nowhere to be found. Well that sucks, must have lost it along the way. With no way to fix the puncture, I walked to the lights in the distance, which turned out to be a gas station. If you use Schrader valve inner tubes, gas stations are a dream sight. There’s almost always an air pump outside. And there was at this one, too. Happy days, problem solved! Nope, I’m using Presta valves. After unsuccessful attempts at trying to bodge the air pump, it wasn’t going anywhere. Time to call it a day.
A mile or so down the road (in the suburbs of Baton Rouge now) there was a huge playing field / methodist church garden. Prime camping spot. I set up the tent, off the road and out of sight, ready to be away early, get the tyre fixed and hopefully make at least a little bit of progress. It’s been a slow few days after all. Unfortunately, the police were doing routine patrols. And of course this stealth camp site was on their list. American police are quite intimidating, but there’s nothing like cycling to provide a little common ground. After explaining the situation, the policeman made a very cycle-specific joke.
“That’s what you get when you use Presta valves!” Fair play, officer. Turns out he was a cyclist and would turn a blind eye to the stealth camp.
“But be careful. That side of the road is the crime hotspot of Baton Rouge. You should be fine here, but just over there is where the highest homicide rate in the city is.”
Moral of the story? I’m not too sure, but it’s probably something to do with carrying a bike pump.
Day 56 – Baton Rouge, LA to… TBC
It’s day 56 now, and I’m quickly piecing together this post on the outskirts of Baton Rouge. The bike still has a puncture, but the bike shop isn’t too far away, so hopefully not for much longer.
It’s been an interesting few days; Bike parts have broken. Tornadoes have been active. Mileage has been minimal. Momentum has halted.
Day 47: Fort Walton Beach to Gulf Breeze, FL (35 miles)
Boxing day morning. “Just whatever you do, make sure you don’t head West”. That’s what Sue, the motel receptionist said, as I left FWB after Christmas. Sorry Sue, west is the way to California. Unfortunately there had been reports of various tornados, thunderstorms and generally extreme weather in nearby areas.
However, the adverse conditions hit on Christmas day, and other than high winds and cold temperatures, boxing day was clear and bright, and there were no more active weather warnings.
It was the coldest day so far for sure, and into the headwind it was tough. Sometimes the roads are conducive to pleasant / not-too-stressful night riding conditions. Today was in contrast to that, and with a constant and strong headwind, night riding wasn’t on the agenda. A super short day of riding, to end up at Gulf Breeze, and a camp on the waterfront.
Day 48: Gulf Breeze, FL to Daphne, AL (56 miles)
Faffed about with the stove to cook up some breakfast on the deserted waterfront, only to find out the lighter was knackered. No cooking breakfast then.
The riding was pretty good. Quickly over the bridge from Gulf Breeze into Pensacola. And soon outside of Pensacola were the first proper hills. A decent bit of leg burn. Days like this are always stand-out days, simply because of state line crossings. There’s usually a massive sign, a lot of the times even a ‘Welcome to’ Visitor Centre. No such thing here. The state line was marked by a river, and it wasn’t obvious at all. And finally it wasn’t ‘straight generally-flat roads through the woods’.
Entering Alabama meant vast farmland and rivers. A visual change, finally. That’s a relief. And then magic hour. Alabama has topped it – the most awesome sky so far. Here’s a cheesy photo.
Pulling in to the suburbs of Daphne, now in the dark, I ended up taking a short cut on what started out as a quality clay path through the woods. Very Blair Witch. It soon turned out to be what can only be described as a downhill mountain biking trail. Gotta admit, it was a lot of fun to be off-road and to add a bit of spice to the riding. Maybe not sensible or wise, though. But fun, definitely.
After that ridiculous endeavour I camped in the least subtle place so far. Essentially on a lawn about 5 metres off the main road. It’s funny how systems work themselves out. If you pitch up late, it’s generally safe to say no-one will bother you until the morning, so if you can be packed up early, well then you’re sorted.
Day 49 & 50: Daphne, AL
Very dark clouds looming over Daphne whilst packing up the tent. And a puncture on the back wheel. Sometimes it’s easy to tell if a day on the road isn’t gonna go to plan, and this was one of those times.
I’d passed a bike shop the previous night, which was probably less than a mile away, so decided seeing as the wheel was punctured, I may as well take this opportunity to get the bottom bracket replaced as it’s been playing up and is on it’s last legs, and the rear tyre replaced as it’s now about as thin as an inner tube.
In the bike shop, it was all going so well. The staff were awesome and the shop was great. Unfortunately we noticed that the rim had a crack in it. S**T! On closer inspection, it wasn’t just one crack, it was loads. Literally covered in cracks. Now last nights off-road escapades lasted all of ten minutes, so I’m doubtful that’s the cause. Perhaps though. I think in all likelihood it’s the toll of nearly two months of heavy weight loaded over the rear wheel. In any case, there was a days delay before having access to a new rim.
Conveniently, mother nature decided to POUR down. Welcome to Alabama. So being forced out-of-action, and in close proximity to the cinema, it seemed appropriate to catch up on films. Just a hint if you’re ever planning on doing something similar and solo stealth camping most of the time: Don’t watch The Hobbit before finding a spot to camp. Gollum will put you on edge. Well done CGI.
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So not the best of days, with not much progress made, and major bike problems, but these things happen. I’m way behind anticipated schedule, and the budget has taken a solid hit because of the fix, so fingers crossed the next few days go a little smoother. It’d be nice to boost the averages, make up some ground and generally get back into the swing of it.
With the holidays upon us & people spending time with their families, the video interviews etc are hard-to-come-by at the moment, but will resume as soon as possible. Here’s another mainly cycling update (images quickly taken from iPhone):
Day 42 – Crawfordville (0 miles)
Ended up having another day off (in the same place as the previous update) to recover from a bout of chesty illness. It was amazing to spend some recovery time catching up on sleep and having shelter indoors.
Day 43 – Crawfordville to Blountstown, FL (55 miles)
Two consecutive days off, and at the tail end of illness. And a corker of a day.
A late start from The Inn at Wildwood, I didn’t get going until 12.15. When you have the opportunity of a decent nights kip,the check out time becomes your go-time. Quick stop for some breakfast and supplies in Crawfordville and time to properly get moving.
As far as the riding, if it had happened at the start of the trip, it’d be exciting. Wonderful long roads through the woods. The truth is though, that I’ve spent days and days on ‘wonderful long roads through the woods’ so I’m looking forward to a change of scenery. No complaints though, it was easy riding, perfect opportunity to plug in to an audio book (Catch 22) and zone out. A moderate headwind and the first of the hills, but none significant. The bike’s bottom bracket is making some horrible crunching noises – don’t think it has a lot of life left in it. Crunch.
Today brought with it another trip-first; a new time-zone. The move from Eastern Standard Time (EST) to Central Standard Time (CST), which it will be for a while now, up until close to El Paso, TX. Such seemingly small signs of progress are great mental boosts.
Scariest moment of the day, without any question, was the bridge between Bristol and Blountstown. Jeez. I’m sure in daylight it’s fine. But at night (it was around 7pm), it’s daunting. There’s no shoulder, the cars are moving fast and there’s a shockingly low wall blocking a huge drop into the river below. I stood at the Bristol end of the bridge for about 5 minutes, just looking at the cars going past and seeing if there were any tricks to the crossing. Really it would be a case of becoming as bright and lit-up as possible and fully sprinting to the other side when there was a decent gap between cars. Bike, don’t screw up now. Nothing like a bit of adrenaline to get your legs spinning fast. Once on the bridge, there was no turning back, but thankfully like most daunting things in the moment it wasn’t too bad. Luckily there weren’t too many cars to deal with, and the lights obviously worked, so good times.
Ended the day at perhaps the nicest stealth camp spot so far, just behind a local Methodist church in the town centre of Blountstown. It didn’t appear all that nice whilst pitching, but in the morning it turned out to be a beautiful riverside spot. A good omen for a new day perhaps?
Day 44 – Bountstown to Fort Walton Beach (102 miles)
Today’s the day. After yesterdays late start, today I was on the road by 9am and raring to go, definitely over the worst of the illness.
In the morning, I’d had the thought that as long as body doesn’t say otherwise, I was going to try to cycle for 12 hours, with minimal breaks. I know it’s not about the mileage, but if the landscape today is similar to that of yesterday, and the holidays are here, so people are spending time with their families, it seems like a perfect time to get the miles in. Plus, day 5’s total of 81 miles hadn’t been topped yet, and it had been over a month, so it would be an interesting experiment.
Pedal pedal pedal. Through the woods. By 3pm – 50 miles. Into light headwind and minimal rolling hills. 4.20pm – 62 miles. Nightfall. Lights On. 9pm – 85 miles. Coffee break and escape from the saddle. 11pm – 102 miles.
Great to finally do a triple-figure day, especially before the hills and winds get too bad (a few people have mentioned travelling from East to West in Texas is going to be awful?!). Although how on earth people like Mark Beaumont manage to do 100+ miles consecutively for months is crazy.
Ended the day, once again stealth camped behind a church, this time in Fort Walton Beach, FL.
Day 45 – 46 – Fort Walton Beach
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day! No cycling here.
Woke up in the tent to the sound of battering rain. Seems to do that a lot in Florida. And sat it out until it became less-heavy at around midday. Christmas Eve meant time to get a motel.
I’m writing this late on Christmas day (day 46) and have spent the day Skypeing the fam back in Blighty, exploring the gulf coast round Fort Walton and eating obscene amounts of food. Tomorrow it begins again.
Seems like a long time ago crossing the GA / FL state line, but now the end of the panhandle is here it means the next report will be from a new state. Happy holidays!
