I woke up early to another great sunrise.

Then I made an executive decision: I was going to call The Sports Junkies radio show in DC. I figured it would be a great way to get the word out and hopefully drum up some more donations. It was a good thing I called then, because it turns out that they were on Christmas vacation starting the following day.

I had never called into a radio show before, and I was pretty damn nervous. They put me on hold for like 20 minutes and then I was finally on air. About 2 minutes before I got on, I realized that I had no idea what I was going to say. But it was too late to back out–I charged ahead blindly (been there plenty of times on this trip).

Fortunately, they’re very good at keeping things smooth and the conversation rolling. I stumbled my way through the first part, but as the questions started coming, I found my stride, albeit a pathetic one. In my last seconds, I was able to squeeze in our two websites. The main goal of the entire phone call was to get some more exposure/donations, but I was so nervous I almost forgot.

It worked out great–the 20 minute wait allowed for more people to get in their cars, and I was on air at about 7:30: perfect timing. Scottie was listening and he called me right after I was off air. He calmed me down and said I did fine. That was all I needed to hear.

With that monkey off my back, I went out on the beach and got a solid workout in. I took another homeless shower (jumped in the ocean), and went back to my stuff. I was beginning to hear more rumblings about how hard it was to find an open campground–I had been lucky to land this one last night.

So in planning for my day, I began calling campgrounds down the road. None of them would hold a spot for me, and two were already full. The camp at Bahia Honda State Park had one spot left, but refused to hold it for me. Uh-oh.

I quickly packed my stuff and hit the road. Bahia Honda was about 35 miles away, and I figured that every single car that passed me between my phone call and the state park was going to take that last remaining spot. I was a bit in my own head at this point, and since it was almost noon, I was pretty discouraged about my chances.

I got into the heart of Marathon and saw a bike shop. I was completely out of tubes, so I figured I’d get one or two just to be safe.

My buddy, Alex, who had been the catalyst of my great stay in St. Augustine, heard that I was in Marathon and gave me another executive order: Castaway bar in Marathon. He told me to drop the owner’s name and I’d be livin’. Apparently, he’s the man, and Al said I’d definitely be taken care of. So instead of Bahia Honda, I had new hopes of sleeping in a free backyard, a couch, another marina, or maybe even a sailboat! I swung in for a beer and a sando and to see what my man was all about. Unfortunately, our guy wasn’t in. 1 for 2 ain’t bad, Al!

It was still a really cool atmosphere and I started chatting to the guy next to me at the bar. Chris was a cook in town and did a ton of fishing. He had even owned a bar up in Northern Virginia years ago. On top of that, he has a brother who is a math teacher at, get this, Georgetown Prep–where Kevin went to school and where the basketball tournament in his name is played every year. Once again, this world is tiny.

Due to the coincidences, one beer turned into quite a few. He offered me a spot to flop my tent in his backyard, but he was just moving in and had to work really early in the morning. I didn’t want to impose, so I said I’d try and make it to Bahia Honda, hoping they’d still have that spot available.

I called again right before I hit the “7 Mile Bridge.” It was getting close to sunset,  and I didn’t want to get caught on that bridge at night, especially if I had nowhere to stay once I crossed it. The guy at Bahia Honda said that someone had just called coming from Isla Morada, and I would basically be racing them for the spot.

For some reason, I didn’t have the fire inside to race a car. I saw this RV park right before the bridge, so instead of hanging the car-campers out to dry (if I beat them) or getting completely stuck, I decided to stop there.

I felt like a bum. I had only gone about 20 miles, and campgrounds down here are much more expensive. I also realized that from here on out, I’d be opening my wallet a lot, and the closer I got to Key West, the worse it would be. I sucked it up and pitched my tent. Then I took a look around. Could be worse.

I promised myself that no matter what, I was getting to Key West the next day.