"It would be pleasant to be able to say of my travels with Charley, "I went out to find the truth about my country and found it." And then it would be such a simple matter to set down my findings and lean back comfortably with a fine sense of having discovered truths and taught them to my readers. I wish it were that easy. But what I carried in my head and deeper in my perceptions was a barrel of worms. I discovered long ago in collecting and classifying marine animals that what I found was closely intermeshed with how I felt at the moment. External reality has a way of being not so external after all."

John Steinbeck
Travels With Charley


So,

Off I go, from Anacortes, Washington to Lubec, Maine.

Tuesday, May 9, 2017

Camper for sale.

There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home.  Ok Dorothy, calm down.

Oh, I sea.


SO, THAT WAS FLORIDA, HUH?
We rode the panhandle tip to tail.  Or was that tail to tip?  No matter.  I get why they call Florida's panhandle a panhandle.  It kind of looks like one but as for the rest of the state:  That's the funniest pan I've ever seen.  And while we're at it, what about the Texas panhandle?  Ever see a pan with a handle that looks like that?  No matter.

The ride across the panhandle is some 514 miles, roughly a fifth of the trip.  It was also the easiest.  Why?  The roads were in great shape, wonderful smooth surfaces, good shoulders, debris free, lots of shade and blissfully free of loose dogs.  A nice change from the rest of the route.  Did I tell you about the dogs in Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi and Alabama?  In Maine, hunters use dogs to track various manner of prey.  In those states it's some kind of sport to sick one's dog on cyclists.  It was not unusual to be chased five or six times a day, some times by as many as five dogs at a time.  Come on, some of these folks have got to know what's going on and choose not to do anything about it.  I recall the day that the young man stood by the side of the road hollering "He don't bite! He don't bite!" as his pooch chased us for the better part of a mile looking all the time like he would very much like a leg sandwich.  Anyway, for all the drama and close calls, never a bite.  But I digress.  The roads were great.  So great that in Tallahassee I summoned the courage to buy another tire for my light-weight bike and try yet again.  Alas, the rest of the trip was ridden without a flat!

But hot, real hot.  By the time we approached the East Coast the warm weather was coming on.  They tell me that the snow-birds leave Florida en masse April 1st.  I get it.  Now, nothing seems to bother Joe.  Not lack of water, not lack of food and certainly not the heat.  The heat was killing me and I had to retreat and be off my bike by one o'clock each day.  Joe consented.

But the wind.  Don't let  anyone tell you there is a prevailing west wind in the southern United States.  There ain't.  The prevailing wind is out of the south, usually with some degree of easterly influence.  That said, on our last day in the saddle we were treated to a tailwind.  That's right, for perhaps the second or third time the wind blew out of the west.  A nice way to end the ride.

OLD FRIENDS (AGAIN).
In Tallahassee we visited  with Matthew Coston and his young son Ezra.  Matt, a Hampden, Maine native, currently resides in Tallahassee with his wife Holly and Ezra and is working on his doctoral degree at Florida State University in comparative religion.   I figure that after a life of being lied to by his father and my fishing companion Doug he's looking for some grounding.  Now don't get me wrong.  I'm not criticizing Doug.  He can't help it.  He's been fishing so long that he no longer knows how to tell the truth.  Anyway, wonderful visit.  It was nice to catch up.

A lot of miles under those wheels.


ST. AUGUSTINE.
We finished our ride in St. Augustine, Florida.  It seemed like the reasonable thing to do since to continue on would have required a sharp right or left hand turn-or a bathing suit.  St. Augustine bills itself as the oldest town in the United States.  This might come as a surprise to some other locals, Old Town, Maine, for instance.  In claiming that mantel they mean: "The oldest town continually occupied by Europeans" but I guess that was too long an explanation to fit on the sign.  Does any history predating the arrival of the folks from Europe really count anyway?

The town is pleasant enough, kind of touristy, but pleasant enough for a couple of days' visit which is what we did before we pointed the nose of the van north for home.  Hey, it's home to Ripley's Believe it or Not.  It can't be all bad!

WOW.
What a wonderful trip.  What a grace to see this country and spend time with old and new friends, family and Bev.  Thanks again to all those who supported us in all the many manners that you have.  Despite some flaws, I remain convinced that this human species is a pretty good lot!         

The end
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