That Which Doesn't Kill Me
January 23, 2017 – Highway A1A – Saint Augustine Beach, Florida
No sleep. Two near-death experiences in one night. All things considered I feel pretty good as I peddle out of Anastasia State Park and onto Coastal Highway A1A.
Get comfortable, you're going to be here for a while.
I know it will be cold and windy today, so I'm as mentally prepared as possible. Whatever the case, I can handle it. I'm tough.
Song in my head: Against the Wind by Bob Seger.
I am disgusting, I am a mess, I'm embarrassed of the way I look, but I am free. I'm excited for what today will bring and what I will discover about myself during the next three-plus weeks on beautiful Florida roads.
In no time flat my mood goes from jubilant to slightly grumpy. It's colder than I expected and the wind is piercing. I'm only 15 minutes out and I'm becoming highly uncomfortable.
I have to remind myself: it's just wind.
After I stop and add more layers, I resolve to be patient. Stuff will warm up.
My legs do eventually warm up, but all that other “stuff”? Not so much. My face is numb from being pulverized by frigid bands of beach sand. They are unrelenting and carry an occasional twig, leaf, or other projectile traveling at 30-plus miles per hour, each quite unsuitable for bare skin.
My lungs sting and ache. They are working overtime right now to power me and sixty-seven metric tons of my shit through violent winds and up gentle inclines of sand dunes and short bridges. They can't keep up. The breaths enter cold and leave cold. My poor lungs are as dry and chapped as my lips, which are no-doubt turning blue despite the eventual addition of a wool balaclava to the ensemble.
There are no pretty thoughts.
I have to use every fiber of my concentration to keep my bike from blowing off the road. I look back at my parachute, AKA “tent”.
What a doofus you are! Just get rid of it!
No freakin' way I'm getting rid of that tent. I will suffer now for the ease of popping that mofo open at the end of the day and heaving my tired ass inside seconds later. I have no patience for the setting up or taking down of anything.
A couple of hours later and things haven't improved. I'm wrecked from the insane amount of muscle power it's taking just to maintain a somewhat decent speed. I can't stop. I have to arrive at my campsite before dark. I'm in all black and riding at night on the road into Tomoka State Park is a death wish.
The sand is piling up on the sidewalks of Matanzas Inlet. The wind has been depositing it all night and all morning. The tires on my bike frequently lose their grip due to the immense sideways forces of the wind and I slide around helplessly, again and again, and nearly have a stroke from the adrenaline bursts before regaining control and pushing forward.
A large insect is flung into one of my incisors. I'm startled and gasp, which immediately sends it down into my esophagus.
Goddammitt!!!
I pull the bike over so I can hork uncontrollably without killing myself and everyone else on the road.
Maybe it's time for a break? Maybe take some photos?
Since there is a comical amount of shit on my bike I can't just set it on the kickstand. If I do my bike and all my crap will keel over and faceplant right into the soft sand. The sand will get into everything. I quickly lose the desire to take any photos, as it would mean actually getting to my camera in the first place. That would involve unstrapping the monstrosity which is my pack at the moment, and then strapping everything back in while fighting these unbearable winds and sand pellets.
I decide just to stand there and look at the epic lashing the landscape is getting on either side of the road. A few minutes more and feeling far from artsy and inspired, I squeeze out a couple of crappy cell phone photos.
If I weren't so grumpy it would be magnificent. The wind is so strong it's making a monster howl from a nearby drainpipe. The brave birds who do try to fly become little feathered ragdolls.
I guess staying put would be the best bet. Hunker down beneath this bridge and try to stay as positive as possible until this all “blows over”.
But I don't. For some reason I'm terrified of nightfall, even in this gorgeous place. I have to get to camp where there's other people around. I don't know exactly what I'm afraid of out here, but it's something. Any other day I would think sleeping in this place beneath the stars was the most romantic, adventurous thing ever.
But when you're fighting for your life against wind, sun, sand, and insects, it's the last thing you want to add into the mix. No, I must push on.
After another hour or so, the wind mercifully shifts and acts as a propeller for my two-wheeled monstrosity. I relax a little and enjoy the ride. At times it's so strong it feels like I'm on a carnival roller coaster.
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!
Like all good things, it doesn't last forever, and will change back and forth for the remainder of today's ride.
Every time it works against me I curse, scowl, and fantasize about hurling 50% of my crap into the violent waves. I've cycled with a lot of crap before, but never this much crap. And let me tell you, it sucks.
I'll figure out the crap situation later, once I'm at camp and at peace.
A few passers-by in cars give me a concerned look. I give them a look back that's the best I can do at reassuring them. It says: don't worry, I know exactly what I'm doing.
The things is, I have no idea what I'm doing.
Beautiful People
After what seems like an eternity I allow myself a stop. But not just any stop. Only here.
I see it from the road, a scene out of a fairy tale. Red umbrellas and a building bathed in tropical plants. They have coffee and I need it.
It's a family business and I strike up a conversation with the proprietor's daughter. I know I'm notorious for complaining about lack of humanity and depth in many of my interactions out in the world, but I cannot say the same after meeting them.
I learn of love, of loss, of respect for the plants and animals that nurture us. Of the family's commitment to their diners and the farmers who serve them. My hardship today somehow seems silly when I hear their stories.
After one little hour I'm renewed, both in body and mind, and ready to venture on.
Peace At Last
I finally make it off the coast and onto a back road that will lead me to Tomoka's gates. The sun is getting low in the sky and the marshes, live oaks, and wildlife are striking. So pretty they could break your heart and they would've broken mine if I weren't so pissed off, exhausted, hungry, and eager to just collapse.
I take a few ceremonial photos, but ponder not a single pretty thought while marveling at nature's magnificence. I pedal on.
Don't worry. You'll have plenty of time to do all these things when the weather improves. Today is an outlier. Tomorrow will be better. Just get some sleep.
I make it to the entrance during the last seconds of daylight. I don't even have the strength to set up the tent I fought so hard to bring along.
I throw some straps around a couple of pine trees, string up my hammock, and heave my aching, wind-burned, grumpy ass into the nylon cocoon.
The nature at this lovely park doesn't matter to me right now. Neither does meeting my neighbors.
Only sleep does.