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.

I woke up at 6 and stretched until sunrise. My tent opened to about a million “no-see-ums,” and I hopped on my bike and tried to outrun those little suckers while snapping a few shots of sunrise. Got a couple: Didn’t know I was sleeping next to a massive mirror:

I was about to lose whatever mind I had left slapping at those little bugs when I ran into the bathroom. I met a guy in there who laughed and said that the only real cure is the wind. They are so small that they just get blown away. As soon as the sun rises enough where the air gets moving, I’d be fine.

I wasn’t fine at the time. At this point, I was in all the cold gear I had left for protection from their bites–long sleeve shirt, sweatpants, winter hat. I already stunk, so I kept them on and sweated through breaking camp.

The wind finally did start blowing, and my bathroom acquaintance was right: fortunately, those little gnats loosened up a bit. Unfortunately, the wind was coming from the west: yet another headwind. But I didn’t care–at least it would get those little effers off of me. I finished up and hit the road west.

My good friend, Matt Reed, has a place in Isla Morada, and he gave me a solid itinerary on what to do in those parts. He was originally planning on joining me for this last leg and to show me first hand, but he couldn’t swing it with work. That was a bummer, but maybe that means I’ll just have to do this part again.

Matt and I swam together since we were five years old. We got pretty good for a while there, and one of our favorite racers to emulate was sprinter, Gary Hall, Jr. This is where he trained for Athens. Not a bad choice: I’ve found this part of the country to be a great place to go through some physical pain.

There’s about 47 bridges to cross before getting to Key West. I think this one was the Whale Harbor Bridge, with Isla Morada’s Tiki Bar in the background.

As soon as you get to other side of this bridge, there’s a road you can take that will parallel US 1. Well, as soon as I did that, I popped a tire. Was Route 1 a little jealous? Probably. But at the time, I felt like I needed to see other roads.

I had myself a Popped Tube Picnic and then kept rolling through town. Somehow, I not only missed the bar that was a landmark Matt described, but I also missed his entire neighborhood altogether. There’s about five roads on this island chain, but I never cease to amaze myself.

I crossed another bridge and I noticed a pretty cool-looking spot on the other side. Matt had mentioned a great place to have a beer, Robbie’s. I didn’t believe him, so I went in to see for myself.

He hit the nail on the head. The place was awesome, and it had great food. Some of the patrons were a little nosey, though.

Gets a little crowded inside, so these guys decided to enjoy lunch on some other guy’s boat:

Then I thought I was going to see my first shark attack:

Turns out those aren’t sharks, they’re tarpon, and the pelicans are nastier than they are. Here they are fighting over my attention (food):

After a nice relaxing lunch and a beer, I decided to keep trucking. It looked like there was a campground about 20 miles down the road. The wind was still in my face, but I had plenty of time before sundown.

I didn’t consider the second popped tube. I had gone about two weeks without popping a tube, and now I had two in the same day. Not the most efficient day of the trip.

I decided to call ahead to the campground to see what their hours were. The lady was very nice and then she went on to tell me that they had one site left for the night. It was first come, first serve. I had about 12 miles to go and still needed to change my tube. Stress level increased a bit.

At the last second, I mentioned I was on my bike. She then told me that because I was biking, they actually could hold a spot for me. Turned out luck was on my side after all. Their “high season” is this time of year, and I would soon learn how important it was for me to plan ahead. No more winging it everyday.

I pulled my bike into a little marina and blasted some tunes as I changed tubes. I went inside to buy some water from the nice lady because it looked like I had a pretty deserted stretch until Marathon. Half an hour later, we were still chatting about storms, tides, sailing, and bike shops. She was super nice and said if I popped another tube, she’d drive me to the campground. I was out of tubes, so I kept her number as a real possibility.

Fortunately, I made it to camp. Right at dusk. The site was made for an RV, so I would be sleeping on gravel for the second night in a row. I had to be extra gentle rolling around on my lung-blown air mattress.

There was a storm rolling through and the wind was still hummin, so the no-see-ums were being blown away from yours truly. That was nice. I pitched up and found a great little spot to enjoy dinner. While my Ramen was cooking, I ran back and put up the rain fly.

Avocado and banana pancakes in the morning. For free.

Then I jumped in the waterfall and baptized myself to get in the Keys mindset. I air-dried in the little outdoor yoga studio.

I said goodbye to Brandon, who was one of the hostel transients. He had biked from Wilmington, NC to Key West. Barefoot. We had traded stories and it was amazing to hear how a trip that went basically the same route could be so different.

The sun began peeking back out, but the storm had brought some south winds that were pretty strong. I left at about 10, and the whole morning was brutal. The afternoon was going to continue to be straight in my face, but at least she was gonna back down to single digits.

It was a long, straight road. I finally hit a few bridges and I knew I was getting close.

The last section of about 18 miles is an expansive stretch of nothing but concrete. Concrete and crocodiles.

I had to hope and pray I didn’t pop a tube or run out of water. But the prayers worked and I made it to a gas station to replenish my empty water bottles. I had made it to Key Largo.

The place next door was selling “smoked fish dip,” and the cardboard box that advertised this kept blowing over. The manager/chef/waiter over there had a bad limp, and he came out twice to upright the box. I was enjoying a water and a cliff bar in between the two establishments, and after the second toppling of the box, I went over and fixed it for him. Then I found a rock and put it inside the box. He thanked me and gave me some smoked fish dip. I put it in my bag and prayed it wouldn’t squish open. That would be one thing that would wipe the smile off my face.

I found a Marina that had a little tent sign out front. Turns out the tent sign was for a different place, but the lady said I could set my tent up in the marina anyway.

I squeezed in, right next to the local pterodactyl:

I went and bought some crackers at Publix and enjoyed my fish dip. Pretty good! Then I made some ramen as the sun went down. I wasn’t aware of the “no-see-um” problem, especially on the water. I got SMOKED by those little gnats. “The midges are biting, they’re terribly frightening!” An old Scottish tune rang loud and clear in my head.

My tent was on gravel. Not the most comfortable thing, but I got inside early. Anything to get away from those little buggers.

I sacked up and did without the rain fly. I had almost forgotten it was Christmas time, but my nightlight from across the marina made me feel like I was in a Corona commercial.

There was no wind and it was so hot that the rain fly would have made it unbearable. I fell asleep watching the stars in Key Largo, Florida. 100 miles to go.

I slept hard. I was dreaming about this weird fight between a young dude and an old guy with a soft voice. Then I finally woke up and realized that the dude above me was yelling at this old fat guy on the other side of the room. Apparently, old fatty was snoring really loudly, but I was sleeping right through it. The dude above me wasn’t in the same boat and he was not happy. He woke the snorer up and yelled at him as if he could control his actions while sleeping. After trying to pay attention to the dispute, I passed back out. Then I woke up and both of those guys were gone. It was only 6:30, so I wonder if any of that was real.

I checked the weather and it didn’t look good. Forecast said storms all day, so I went and used their full-functioning computer to really make some headway on the blog. About 5 hours later, I was still on the computer and starving. I went across the street to a little Mexican place and enjoyed a killer breakfast as the only patron in the joint.

I climbed up in this crazy tree and did some reading. This place was so cool.

I shot the shit with a bunch of other people and eventually found my way back to the computer room. The weather wasn’t good and the upcoming bridges didn’t bode well. I decided to stay another night since it was super cheap. I also wanted to use their computer to keep working. I researched the best strategy to go home. It was the weirdest feeling, but it had to be done. After speaking with a car rental company (I had originally planned to rent a car one-way and throw everything in the back and drive it all home), I realized how expensive it would be, especially since I wasn’t 25. Plus it’s a hike. I researched bike/trailer shipping and shopped around for flights. In the end, I decided to save money and time and just fly home. I found a super cheap flight a week from then, and it was settled. The journey was officially coming to an end on December 19th.

I figured if I was gonna stay again, I better be productive while I can. So I hogged the computer some more. The TV room next to me was blaring Cops for the majority of my computer sessions. I found out later that a lot of the stuff on Cops was filmed about 5 minutes down the road. Gators and snakes weren’t the only things to worry about around here.

After making some solid progress, I went to the local supermarket and bought a six pack to celebrate. It was dinner time, and I watched as the hostel regulars chopped up avocados, baked their own bread, and cooked a bunch of things, none of which was Ramen. With the finish line in sight, I didn’t want to put my massive grocery bill to waste, so I cooked up a thing of soup and figured I’d at least get to smell real meals. Some of the people were super nice, and they let me “borrow” some of their meat and spices to fit in with the rest of the group.

The rest of the night was full of interesting travel conversations: I caught up with the Aussies–they told me about surfing Margaret River in West Oz and their latest trip to Hawaii where they caught a few at Pipe. The guy from Hong Kong was convincing me to go to Hong Kong. This motorcyclist from Canada told me I could go to his place up north, and from there I could fly to Cuba. He insisted on it, and said I should do it before it’s innocence is lost. He thought the invite was worth two of my beers, and I didn’t mind. He was also riding a two wheeler (Kawasaki); however, he’s been from Canada through the states down to Costa Rica. And Cuba six times. I also chatted with this Norwegian couple who was spending their university break hiking from Tampa to Key West. This jolly lady from Finland had tried to bike from Miami to Key West, had gotten to this hostel, and decided to stay for the past two weeks. There were also quite a few Americans from around the country: I found out that people spend weeks working on projects on the hostel site, and in return, they get to stay for free. No wonder the place had gotten so neat. Every inch is a random project created by a hostel patron who was working for their own shelter.

I went up early and met a kid from Germany and a kid from Finland who both just finished their semesters in America and were trying to catch some sun before going home. The beers knocked it right out of me and I fell asleep talking to them.

I woke up nice and early again.

The other roommates: Pete stayed up til like 5 again. This was his “chill” night. Spent another evening charming women with his Kiwi accent. No chance was he going to be awake anytime soon.

Then there was the 55 year-old skinny/fat bald Indian man. When I retired for the night, way earlier than everyone else (at like 10:30),  I opened the door and turned on the lights. I jumped after I saw a guy sleeping mummy-style with his bald, fleshy head poking out of the sheets. After I realized it was a human, I turned the lights off and felt my way to bed. In the morning, I noticed that he was super skinny, but then he had his huge pot belly. Both that night and early the next morning, I barely kept it together just watching the guy. I don’t know why I thought he was so funny. He was up at like 6:30 and I never saw him again.

Then there was that one kid who was kinda weird. After I had haggled my dinner down to a $15 wrap (from the original $16), I was roaming South Beach and saw him roaming around, too. He definitely saw me wave but he ignored me. Then he came a’tumbling in at like 3:30 and flicked the lights on. He kept them on for like 15 minutes as he made his bed.

And finally, I still don’t know what happened to Benjamin. Maybe I do.

I quietly began my packing process until the free breakfast was served. I grabbed a bagel, a bunch of oranges and bananas and hit the beach. I did an abridged beach workout, then I jumped in the water and air dried. I headed back to the hostel to finish packing my gear. By now it was about 10, and everyone was gone except Pete who was still sleeping above my bed. I tried to wake him to say goodbye, but after two tries, I bailed.

I hit the road, headed for Key Largo, 65 miles away. Getting out of South Beach was a little tougher than expected. The first bridge to the mainland was a straight up highway. I was gonna try and charge through it, but it got hairy quick so I turned around. The next bridge inland was like 6 miles north. I got to it pretty quick–the wind was kickin’ at like 15 mph straight from the south. After my northerly leg to the bridge, I’d be riding into that all day. Great.

I finally made it into the city and went immediately into survival mode. The sidewalks were a mess so I’d try and stay in the streets, but there was no room for error. Did more kickin off the curb than pedaling. It was cool to see the huge skyscraper style buildings right on the water though. I had forgotten to charge the GoPro, so I blew it on pictures.

I made it out to the other side okay, and then I hopped on US 1 heading south. The rest of the day was spent on that road. The wind was brutal; I was barely holding 12 mph.

I met my first fellow Key West-bound biker, Lucius. He went a completely different route with his rig. The thing was a big, thick bike with the fattest wheels I’d ever seen. He weighed it down with what he said was about 100 pounds of gear, all in saddle bags. He refused to clip in and he didn’t wear gloves. He was coming from Northwest Florida and was thinking about doing the perimeter of the state. He was down to 200 bucks though. Nice guy, and I rode with him for a while. Old Lucius, mid-story:

Then I realized I needed to really pick it up if I wanted to make Key Largo by sundown. Because of my a late start, slow going out of the city, and serious headwind to battle, hanging with Lucius was not helping me to gain any ground.

So I split from him and kept on truckin. At 4 o’clock, I made the slight bend on US 1 from heading southwest to directly south. As soon as I made the turn, I knew it was bad. The wind was really driving from the south at this point (typical for this time of day). I was going nowhere and I was getting more and more tired.

I knew my last stretch was going to be on a tight bridge to Key Largo, and I had heard that there was no where to rehydrate, refuel, or pull off to get sleep. I also had no desire to do it in the dark. So I made the last minute decision to call that hostel in Florida City that the park ranger had told me about way back in Sebastian Inlet.

The place is awesome. Talk about “granola.” Hippie heaven with a really cool feel. It was an eclectic group this night, and I enjoyed dinner with a squad from all over the world.

Then I met up with a few Aussies who are touring the US. We chatted about surfing, their time here, my time over there, and they were super cool. I found out they’d be in DC right as I was returning home. Looking forward to playing tour guide in a little bit.

Then I hopped in last minute on a tour of the Everglades. I went with an Italian girl named Claudia and a guy from Hong Kong. Also joining us was Lee, from China, and she was on her vacation from a semester at Duke’s medical school. She said it was pretty easy.

The tour guide was wild. Literally. You could tell he was in his element, and he handed out four flashlights and we hit the trail. We were literally getting eaten alive by mosquitos for the first ten minutes, so we went back to the van to grab the bug spray.

We saw a few snakes, none were the poisonous snakes in the area: water moccasins, coral snakes, or diamondbacks.

Then we saw this 10 ft long Burmese python. That was a little unnerving, especially since I had debated sleeping on the side of the road that night. We also saw a bunch of gators. He taught us how to hold the flashlight up by your eye so when it bounces off their orange/red reflectors in their eye, you’ll see them.

On the way home, I almost fell asleep on Lee’s shoulder, fortunately I kept it together until I got to my room. But I think I was out before my head even hit the pillow.

I tried to sleep in, but I couldn’t. I layed in bed until the free breakfast (at 8), and then I went out and cruised around town. My legs were pretty shot, and I made the decision to enjoy an entire day in Miami, so I swung back to the hostel and reserved another bed for the night.

After that, I did a long swim along the beach. It felt so good. I popped out in the middle of town and trotted back to my stuff. I found the audio of the Redskin’s game through my phone and enjoyed a different view as I listened to Larry, Sonny, and Sam. Miami was great.

I relaxed all day, and then rode around town on my bike (without the trailer!), and enjoyed a day to recharge.

I went back to the hostel after finding some dinner, and I met a few of my new roommates for the night. One was Pete (again), and the other was this big, black guy in his 40’s, Benjamin. They were both seasoned travelers, and they had been trading stories over some whiskey. I joined in and listened–quite different from my own, but they were absolutely hilarious. Later, we went downstairs to the hostel bar and the two of them immediately made friends.

The sun had taken it out of me, so after a few drinks with them, I called it early.

I woke up motivated and crushed a nice little beach workout in honor of lifeguard races. The water felt great and I went and got some fresh fruit at the little market down the way. Oranges down here are incredible. Then I went over to the library to try and use their computer. I spent the rest of the morning there–the thing was super restrictive and pretty slow, but I figured my way into uploading some stuff.

I gunned it back to the hotel to check out by noon, and then I was off to South Beach, Miami.

As I was leaving, I did a double-take at my receipt from the hotel, and I knew it was not in my budget. I started stressing about where I’d sleep that night way sooner than I usually do. On top of that, from this point to Miami, there was no possible chance I could find a free spot on the beach to sleep and it was simply too populated for campgrounds. In my last ditch efforts to find a cheap hotel, I mis-typed it and searched for hostels instead.

I hadn’t even thought of hostels! I stayed in a bunch over in Australia, and they are certainly the cheapest way to go, plus they can be a lot of fun. I forgot how many travelers are in big cities, and they are always poor like me. There had to be a few in a city like Miami. There were like 15! I called ahead and booked the first four-person room I could find. 30 bones, much better.

Either way, I still had to get there. It was around 12:45, and I was 60 some miles away. The winds were also coming from the south again. I know I did it to myself by wasting all that time in the library, but it was gonna be another long day.

I got into Ft. Lauderdale, and took a few shots of their lifeguard set up. A little different than Bethany’s:

I crossed the bridge back to the mainland and had to hop back on US 1.

This part was one of the sketchier legs of the trip. Right around their airport, it looks a lot like Northern Virginia. There’s a massive overhaul going on in their road system, and it’s obviously taking just as long as it is up north. They make less progress than I do every day, and people are pissed about it. Huge consrtuction set ups, detours, gravel, and traffic. US 1 runs right through it, and I was in for a bit of a squeeze. There was no shoulder, people everywhere were honking at everyone else, and debris, gravel, and nails littered the roads. I made it about halfway when my back tube went.

But there was no stopping. I had no where to stop. So I stood up and leaned hard over the front tire and forged ahead. Finally, after about a mile and a half, I found a place to pull over and fix it. I know that wasn’t the best move for the bike, but I had to do it.

Fortunately, had decided to buy those little CO2 cartridges that fill up tubes in a second–no more worrying about gas stations or if bike shops were open. I also spent some time truing the back wheel after I had replaced the tube. It was pretty ugly.

After that, I still had a ways to go. The wind didn’t let up, and it remained a slow ride. There were sections of US 1 with a great bike lane, but then it got congested and I’d switch between sidewalks and the right lane. I held out on switching back to A1A for a while because I knew the wind would be worse. But when I got stuck in traffic in rush hour, I made the move. By now, the sun was setting, and I had another 17 miles.

I turned onto A1A, and for some reason, I got a second wind. I had wolfed down a cliff bar at like 4:30, and maybe it was finally kicking in. There was a bike lane, and I charged. Hard. City riding is cool, and I was pretty amped. I was passing cars and dodging people, swerving around buses and being liberal with the red lights.

With about 8 miles to go, it was full on dark. Fortunately for me, the city lit up like Vegas. It wasn’t bad at all, and I weaved my way through traffic to the front of the line. I befriended a few other bikers who showed me the best way to get through the south end. I survived and finally arrived at the hostel.

I had been so focused on getting there, that I think I forgot how to speak. I stumbled and bumbled my way through check in. I was a mess and I couldn’t get my words out. Mid-way through, I ran back outside and drank all the water I had. I felt much better and finished the typically easy process.

I unhitched my stuff and carried it up the narrow hallway and even narrow-er staircase to my dorm room. I was the first one there and put all my stuff down. I went out and got a bunch of water and a beer. By the time I came back, I had a roommate. His name was Pete, and he was from New Zealand. I also realized that my trailer stunk the whole room up. I apologized and he made a sarcastic joke in that funny, Kiwi way. He said he was fine w it because he’d be out til 4 and would not be able to smell anything when he got back.

He let me borrow his computer, and I began the long process of uploading and editing all the stuff I hadn’t posted in forever. I took a little break and found a nice little dinner spot around the way. I watched Lebron play on the TV over a Guinness and some grilled chicken. The bartender loved my story and put the beer on his own tab. Thanks to him and Pete, my first night in Miami was quite  enjoyable and even pretty productive. I stayed up late working on my stuff. In fact, I think it was the latest all trip: 12:30. After that, I passed out hard, and I didn’t even stir when Pete stumbled his way in.

The morning was full of more laps between the clubhouse and my flooded campsite. Not only was the tent soaked, but it was covered in mud. I had just enough quarters to throw my entire wardrobe in the dryer (they got a good rinse the night before…plus I didn’t have the money to wash them), and while I waited for the clothes to dry, I did the best I could to clean off the tent.

I said goodbye to my French neighbors and hit the road back to US 1. I couldn’t find Jimmy, but I smiled at his place as I pulled away.

The first leg of my ride that morning was a little hectic. After I made 10 miles or so dodging curbs, traffic, and road shrapnel, I decided to fuel up. I didn’t feel like eating a soggy PB no J, so I decided to treat myself to breakfast at Wendy’s. It was good, and it was cheap. I found an outlet in the wall, so I plugged in and sat down to the only other patrons in the entire restaurant. They had seen me pull up, and they immediately started asking me about my trip. Very nice couple–from Indiana. The man couldn’t believe that I wasn’t carrying a gun, and his wife just patted my shoulder as they left and said that I better call my mother every night.

An older lady sat down near us, as well, and she joined in the conversation. Her name was Joyce, and she was really impressed by my journey. The three of them helped me to navigate my next stop, and they told me there were some camp grounds a little north of Boca Raton, which happened to be where I was planning on heading that day. The Indiana couple left, and Joyce and I continued to enjoy our breakfast. She was a very sweet, old lady, and we talked about her son who does orthopedic surgery for the Airforce and who spent time in Bethesda. Then she reverted back to my journey, and she gave me some input on the Keys. She asked for my name, so I told her, and she said that she was going to write about me in her diary. I said I was going to do the same thing with her. As I got up to leave, she handed me $5. She said she wanted to help, and the least she could do was buy me breakfast. My goodness.

The rest of the morning miles were pretty uneventful, until the rains came pouring down again. I saw on the radar that they were coming, but it didn’t look too bad. After a few miles of fighting through it, I found a little shopping center to pull off and take some cover. I also noticed that there was a FedEx store in there.

I figured I’d kill some time, and I made the executive decision to officially lighten my load. I went through all my stuff and took out a bunch of the super-cold gear that I knew I wouldn’t need anymore. I had it all shipped back to Maryland, and when the guy took that stuff into the backroom, it felt…weird. I knew it was going to make the rest of my ride more efficient, and I should be happy to cut weight, but at the same time, it was the first real feeling of the end. So many times I couldn’t imagine this journey ever ending, but it was finally, slowly, starting to happen. Weird.

The rains had subsided by now, and after officially parting ways with some of my gear, I swung down to A1A to make my way south. After about 10 miles, those south winds really started chappin my ass. I decided to cross the bridge back over to US 1 and parallel my route. This way, I’d be further from the water and hopefully it would taper the wind. Maybe it was all in my mind, but I think it helped a little. I was so far in my own head at this point, but either way, my legs kept spinning.

I went through the town of West Palm Beach. One of my father’s best friends, Billy David, lives there, and he had given me his card in case I needed a place to stay. It would have been a pretty short day if I decided to stop there, so I figured I would just pass through and keep truckin.

Right near the center of town, I had to go this weird route to stay on 1 South. I messed up a few turns, but I finally found myself back on it. I started to get up to cruising speed, and I saw this gentleman in a pink shirt and blazer pull out of a restaurant in front of me. He stopped and let me keep cruising, and I looked at him and waved. Then I did a double take and almost wiped out. He took a right and passed me. For some reason, I always remember that Billy drove a Jag, and he has told me some pretty amazing war stories. Well the car that passed me was a dark green Jag, with a military license plate. The light up ahead was red and I put my head down and sprinted. I got to the light and found him in the line of cars. I shouted his name and waved my arms; he looked over, and I saw it click. We laughed and shouted and finally decided to meet in a parking lot up the way. So we did, and the whole thing was so surreal. Out of all the people in that crowded little town, and at that time of day, on that road, after I had made a few wrong turns, it was too much. We caught up, and then Billy gave me all the cash he had as a donation to my cause. Absolutely incredible.

We parted ways and I kept heading south. I had another 20 miles or so to Boca Raton. I used to race lifeguards from Boca Raton. They were always really good in the water, but none of them could run. I jumped in the water and realized why: there is absolutely no reason why you would ever want/have to get out of it. It’s perfect, even in December.

This part of Florida was pretty populated, and there weren’t that many campgrounds nearby, much less an empty spot on the beach where I could sneak on and camp out. But I had done a search and found a few campgrounds in that area. As I got closer, I decided to give them a call and reserve a tent site. The first one said that they only did RV’s, no camping. So did the second. And the third. I exhausted every campground in the area, and none of them would take me–I even tried the “I’ve come all the way from DC” move but I got nothing. Stealth camping on the beach that night wasn’t in the cards, mainly due to all the cops driving around and all the huge waterfront hotels.

I was stuck. I finally broke down and got a hotel for the night. I kind of had to, and once I flopped onto the bed, I figured I should stop sulking about it and enjoy my wonderful (but expensive) sleeping arrangements. I even got to do my laundry–not just put everything in the dryer. It was really nice to wash those bike shorts that I’d worn for four days straight.

I made Ramen in the parking lot–didn’t want to set off any alarms–and then I strolled around the water front as I waited for my dinner to cool off. It was a pretty cool little area, and I cruised around trying to get some shots, but they all ended up too dark.

I tried to use their computer to do some blogging, but the thing was ancient and kept re-routing me to the hotel reservation page. I bailed and went upstairs to catch some Z’s. Caught them pretty easily.