The Keys

I left Florida City for Keywest. My plan was to ride the entire Keys in a single day. I figured it at about 210 km. The more I thought about it, the better the plan got. I'd ride into the night, and get into Key West at about 3 am. I'd hide my bike under a bridge or in the forest off to the side of the road. I'd slink into town with my book and read till sunrise, afterwards I'd find the beach or a park and sleep. I'd make the 6 pm ferry and leave without having to pay for lodging.



My plan was pretty good until sunset, when a fog rolled-in and my bike path evaporated. The dark-highway-riding became white knuckled, and I quit. I camped behind a Bell South complex in some dense jungle. It was too hot and muggy for a sleeping bag, and I just use my silk liner. I still thought about only getting a couple of hours of sleep before hitting the road again, but time bent and I was left with only 8 hours to do the remaining 120 km and still make the 6:00 pm ferry. Which doesn't seem that bad, unless you factor in the fuel stops and chatting with people on the road.

I had committed to a course of action. It being valentine's day and the president's day long weekend I thought finding lodging in key west would be difficult and expensive. Other travelers I had spoken to, told me Key West was the southern most retirement community in the continental United States, and I already had a retirement community in my itinerary. The keys were boring up until Marathon, but by the time I reached Marathon I had too much momentum to stop and had to continue all the way to Key West and out the other side. My survey of people post-Key West, tinged my decision with a little regret. I've heard it's good.



I hit a wicker chair. I crossed the 7 mile bridge, which works out to about half-an-hour of riding. It is for the most straight and flat. It is difficult to figure out how I didn't see the chair sitting on the shoulder, it was probably visible from 2 km away. I was busy reading my map (attached to my handle bar bag) I bounced off the chair, but remained up-right. I had no place to stop to regain my bearings, as stopping on the shoulder of the bridge would probably create more problems. So, I rode on.

Some of the bridges were twinned, with a separate walkway/bike lane. These were populated with fishermen. There was the constant danger of getting hooked when one of them was casting.



Anyways, I got into Key West with no time to spare. The ferry left 15 minutes after I got to the dock. I had to take my bike through an airport style security check. I asked the guard what I could and couldn't bring on the ferry, and he told me anything I couldn’t bring on a plane. And yet, I managed to take on my knives, as well as my camp stove and fuel.

I got into Fort Myers at about 10 pm. Time being so tight the previous two days; I didn’t get to look up the hostel location and phone number. It was disappointing. I biked about 10 km, through the city and found a small tree stand by a strip mall with a wachovia bank and blockbuster. It was pretty much the sketchiest and most urban camp site yet. As I was setting up camp, you could hear the people at a nearby bar talking in their loud bar voices - I stealthed out of my campsite to join them, but found it to be a private party. I hung out in front of a Superstore-style grocery store, stealing power and trying to catch an unsercued wifi network without luck.

In the morning, with daylight, I found I had camped on a deserted hobo home.



On my trip I had twice heard of a 75 year old cyclist who was going the same way I was, but was in advance of me. The road had given him a little fame. I finally met him in the Keys. He was doing a self-supported tour - camping along the way, like me. He started touring when he was 65, not doing it continuously.

Miami Beach

I have pretty much written nothing on the corresponding days, so now I have the job of recounting things.

After Fort Lauderdale, I rolled into Miami Beach with high hopes. The evening in Fort Lauderdale, I went out in search of food e and found the streets empty; Miami Beach was different: it was crowded. There was a bike shop across the street from the hostel that stocked some vintage frames built-up as fixed gears. Spanish was more prevalent in Miami than I thought, making the place feel more metropolitan. I liked the style of the place. The beach was gorgeous.



The hostel was hot and sticky, and had a bar like atmosphere. It didn’t suit me. I've been rising with the sun, and that is when they return legless from the town. The expensive price of the hostel made my decision to move-on all the easier.



I rode to Florida City, through palm-tree tree-farms, in areas that seemed like they were once Everglades. I saw maybe a thousand vultures flying over a dump. I liked the hostel, and my one night there turned into two. There were a lot of trippers coming through for canoe trips. There was a couple down from Waterloo doing a week long trip into the everglades, and a couple more couples doing similar things.

blending

I haven't been writing as much, and the miles and days blend together.

I stayed in Fort Lauderdale yesterday. The hostel had a bad vibe, although a couple of the longterms put together a pretty good dinner for everybody. I got lectured by one employee about leaving my bike in the courtyard. It was silly, I almost got into it with her, but thought what was the point. It's not like anything I will say will make her a non-dummy. We should all just be reserved to her fate.

On my way to Fort Lauderdale I passed through West Palm Beach, an affluent neighborhood that I think goes unmatched in the United States.



I felt bad about taking pictures of people's homes, so I took just one. But, that house was nothing compared to some of the others I saw.

The roads were awesome - overhung with greener - making you feel like you were riding through the rain forest.