mmm... Trout

I suppose it’s probably about time for an update. This past weekend, I pedaled my kayak ten miles from the cabin to Stone’s Bridge landing on the Brule River and spent the day fishing upriver. By the end of the day, I had snagged a medium-sized Brook trout and a fat sucker fish (of the family Catostomidae), as well as countless other small trout. Last night, I fried the trout in coconut oil and the sucker fish in bacon grease, seasoned with salt, crushed red pepper, and cayenne pepper. The trout filets were an amazing orange color reminiscent of chinook salmon; the sucker was akin to tilapia. The fish was crispy and full of flavor; I’m still riding on the good energy from these “trout bites”. Other activities this summer- following my Moab adventures, 11 of us paddled the Namekagon in northern Wisconsin and got eaten alive by mosquitos. 4^th of July weekend a buddy and I fished the Ox Creek near the cabin and snagged a few decent sized bass and a multitude of small trout. Much of July was spent enjoying the summer in Minneapolis; there is just so much to do! I saw Lauren Hill at First Avenue on June 30^th, Tune-Yards at First Avenue on July 17^th, and Cultura Profetica at the Cedar on August 7^th. Last weekend we rode the Mesabi Tour, a 69-mile ride from Eveleth to Coleraine on the Mesabi Trail, an amazing route that winds its way up and down hills through the Iron Range. I ate way too many cinnamon rolls and cookies that weekend, but burned them all off on the ride! This weekend we’re camping on the Apple River for Summer Set Music Festival, and then I’m heading up to the BWCA on the 24^th for a week! I picked up two aluminum canoes this summer to add to the fleet, and have been working on a cedar boat rack up at the cabin. Despite working full-time all summer, it’s been one of the best so far! 

Moab!

This is the first of many posts lacking photos I took; snagged a couple Facebook photos to convey the impression...my words will have to step up to the task. You all know what Utah looks like anyway. My former roommate Jake and some friends were driving down to Moab for a contact improv jam, so I figured I would tag along and putz around in some of the wilderness areas nearby. We rolled in Thursday evening and meandered about the city park before heading to the home of Jake’s friend Travis, who lives with other folks working on a community home-building project. They use straw bales, mud, pallets, and passive solar techniques to build houses for low-income residents of Moab. Awesome! I made a visit to the Moab Farmer’s Market and enjoyed some ginger tea and live tunes from Stonefed, one of Moab’s two local bands. Hours after arriving, it was clear that Moab is definitely the Gainesville/Boulder/Portland of Utah. Travis tipped me off to some good spots for backpacking, and on Friday morning I headed over to the Mill Creek area, a canyon carved out by runoff from the La Sal mountains outside of town. The beginning of the trail lazily makes its way up the canyon alongside the stream, with occasional crossings. On a particularly difficult crossing, I carried my pack above my head and waded up the stream. After setting the pack on a rock, I began to climb up when the pack slid into the water and went for a swim. I grabbed it fairly quickly and the sun dried it out in due time… After that crossing, the trail became difficult to follow and eventually disappeared. My plan was to find a spot to camp and turn around and go back the way I came the next day, but I decided to make a loop and try to aim for some of the four-wheeler trails at the end of the canyon to get a ride back into town. So I continued on until I found a cozy tent spot on a flat rock elevated from the stream, right as the clouds rolled in… As I finished setting up the tent, the sky opened up with an onslaught of hail, and I dove inside to ride out the storm. Minutes after the hail stopped, the sun emerged and the canyon was as dry as before. I scrambled onto an outcropping and examined my canyon home. Surrounded by these fiery-orange monuments carved out by eons of erosion and the fragile ecosystem hugging the stream, I was humbled and awed with a deep reverence for the Earth. I could only sit and wonder until the next round of clouds rolled in, dumping fierce torrents of rain into the canyon. I was high and dry in my REI Camp Dome II, but could not avoid thinking about the rain dislodging boulders high above and sending them crashing down the canyon. In the next break between rains, I enjoyed a marvelous jambalaya feast, stretched out with some canyon yoga, and oriented myself with the map and compass. The rain continued on throughout the evening with less intensity until I fell into a deep and well-needed sleep. At the crack of dawn, I struck camp and headed up the canyon. I found a gentle draw to climb up and out onto the mesa and then hooked up with an ATV trail, following it for three to four miles before hitching a ride back to Travis’s place with a singer-songwriter living in Moab. On my way down, I passed a crew of four-wheelin country club types, who commented, “Poor bastard’s Jeep must have broke down.” The public lands outside of Moab have apparently seen a crazy uptick in Jeep and four-wheeler traffic, so much that many of these natural areas are being degraded and destroyed, requiring more and more regulation. Personally, I think this mode of travel destroys any chance of developing a real appreciation for how remote and difficult this terrain really is. Just hike or bike damnit! At about three o’clock that same day, the whole crew headed out to the Island in the Sky area of Canyonlands National Park, where Travis’s park pass got us in for free. Hell yeah! We began our hike on the Sincline Loop trail and then diverged from the path over a few ridges, eventually working our way onto the neck of an immense mesa. By this time the long light of the setting sun was dancing over the endless stretches of sage and crumbling crags interrupted by washes of burnt-orange and rust-red soils weaving their way down to the canyon floor in infinitely-repeating fractal patterns. We hiked to the end of the mesa, at one point crossing a narrow bridge about five feet wide with sheer cliffs on either side. The mesa itself was a beautiful alpine desert, strewn with boulders suggestive of ancient lava flows supporting tenuous populations of lichens, shrub brush, and microbes. From the top, one can see the Colorado and Green rivers, the Maze and Needles areas of Canyonlands, Glen Canyon, the San Rafael Swell, and all sorts of rock formations like Cleopatra’s chair. We set up camp just as the sun was setting on this surreal landscape and cooked up a feast, enjoying the cool, dry air late into the evening. We slept late into Sunday, enjoying short walks around our mesa and munching on pleasant foods, before hiking out that afternoon. This hike was a dream. Since there is no established trail leading out to this mesa, few people ever get the chance to experience Canyonlands in this way. Although I have been to Grand Canyon and Zion National Parks, there is no substitute for climbing up and down canyons, weaving around mesas, and scrambling up slick rock. Monday we returned to the Mill Creek Canyon to swim and relax near the stream, and then made our way to some more public land outside of town, where we swam in the Colorado River and hiked out to an arch. We made the somewhat-terrifying climb up and around to the top of the arch, using steep stairs carved into the rock. There were plenty of hooks for ropes, suggesting that we probably shouldn't be free-climbing this wall... Overall, I backpacked about 35 miles up and down various terrains on this adventure, and hiked much more. There is something spiritual about wandering around in the desert for a few days cleansing the body and the soul...I have rarely been in such harmony and communion with my body and with nature.  

Soulitude

I recently connected with one of the folks I met in Florida and came across this photo. This is the guy who put me up in his RV for an evening at his farm outside of Ft. Myers. I love the image, but more so the idea behind it. If the past year or two has taught me anything, it's that peace comes from suspending your body in meaningful motion. Going is good! Simple and true!

Back to the Brule

Sadly this will be my last post with photos for a while, as the Brule has taken my camera. I'm looking forward to being free of another electronic device and spending more time in the moment when I am out enjoying the world, although the camera is sometimes handy for food pictures... This past weekend we headed back up to the old Brule River in northern Wisconsin to get the fishing season started off right. We spent the first day near the mouth and camped at the Copper Range Campground, where a raccoon made off with twelve eggs, some bacon, and butter. Thanks for leaving the cheese man! Before this, we whipped up some awesome berbere fries (cooked in bacon grease of course), an asparagus/potato/bacon/cheese medley, and some bacon-wrapped brats. No one was really catching anything this weekend, but it felt great to be back in the stream!  

Colorado!

This past spring break, four friends and I drove down to Colorado to enjoy the mountains, my first love. We spent two nights in Rocky Mountain National Park at the Moraine Park campgrounds and hiked some amazing trails during the day. While there was some snow, the trails were fairly packed and I was able to hike in just long johns. We then made our way to Boulder for a night, did the obligatory Pearl Street stroll, and then hiked the Flatirons at Chautauqua park the next day. We rented a cheap cabin near Cripple Creek for the next three nights. The guest book at the cabin tipped us off to a pretty cool hike at a spot known as Pancake Rock, after which we ambled about at Mueller State Park, and then grabbed a drink at the local watering hole. The bartender was super friendly and gave us some insight into the local fishing, advising that we head to Eleven Mile Canyon. The cabin was stocked with fishing poles, so our final day in Colorado was spent hiking up this amazing creek and fishing for trout. While my friend Adam was able to snag a beautiful rainbow trout, I just narrowly missed a catch. We got out hiking every single day and ate great food; the perfect adventure! I didn't take any pictures of my food creations this round, as most dishes are repeats of previous posts. However, I've been developing a pretty tasty black bean burrito experiment that I'll have to post here soon. This was my first time experiencing Colorado and man... what an amazing place. I'm definitely making some moves on applying to Boulder's Hydrology graduate program! Here are the best of the photos:

How to Enjoy Florida with $350 or less

This is an incredibly long post, so grab a cup of coffee and get comfortable under a blanket. I was asked many times why I went on this adventure, and there are a few reasons. The stars were aligned, you could say. First, my brother is currently living in Gainesville so I figured I would visit him either way. In addition, my winter break is over a month long this year. My roommate Jake went on an extensive bike tour of America a few years back and I had recently purchased a $25 bike trailer from craigslist, so I was pretty jazzed about the whole touring thing. I guess I just had the itch... I wanted to develop a mode of travel that is inexpensive, healthy, sustainable, self-propeled, and more integrated into my way of life, a practice run for many future bike tours.

Gainesville:

I rolled into Gainesville late in the evening on Friday January 3rd via plane and bus with my backpack and bike trailer, which folds down nicely to luggage size. Elizabeth gave me a ride over to Max's place, a room in an old Victorian house near downtown Gainesville. I quickly met Max's housemate John, a retired chemist/librarian who had done some bike touring. We would have many conversations over the next few days. I had asked Max to purchase an old road bike off craigslist for $100. I tried to impart to him some bicycle analyzing and bargaining skills over the phone in order to get a better price, but I suppose those skills are learned over time. So on Saturday morning, I rode my 1970’s Sears & Roebuck Free Spirit Ten Speed over to the Farmer's Market and picked up $10 worth of produce, a mountain of green and orange that thawed my frozen January spirit. 

Max and I made an awesome breakfast of scrambled eggs, mine with the leaves and stalks of a broccolli floret. 

We spent the afternoon biking around the Hawthorne trail near Gainesville, stopping at scenic overlooks here and there, visiting the gators at the ever-exciting Payne’s Prairie. Elizabeth took us out to eat at an awesome Jamaican place.  

Sunday was a sunny day in the mid 70’s, so I strolled across the street to the botanical garden, very reminiscent of the plaza in Mérida. 

Max and I made some more scrambled eggs and then enjoyed some coffee on the roof. Max had some volunteering planned for the afternoon, so I hung out with Elizabeth and cashed in on a massage session, which would prepare me well for the journey ahead. We met Elizabeth's friend Savanna for dinner at Chuey's, a mexican place. Another tasty dining experience, thanks Elizabeth!

Monday was a day of preparations. Max went to work, so I gathered supplies like a new crescent wrench (the TSA took mine), propane, and food. The tires were wearing very thin on my Free Spirit 10-speed, and I had found a guy on craigslist outside Gainesville selling tires for somewhat less than the market rate, so I started heading over there. The back tire wore so thin on this journey that the inner tube popped and I was stranded near the outskirts of Gainesville. Thankfully, Thomas from craigslist was able to meet me with tubes, tires, and supplies. Turns out this guy was originally from Minnesota, thanks man! The adventure began even before I expected... Max and I enjoyed a sort of "last supper" of fish burritos. John was around as well, so we talked cycling and camping strategy. I made a 6X batch of almond flour pancakes flavored like falafels for the journey ahead.

That brings me to the second part of the journey, the bike tour. I had purchased an extremely cheap plane ticket out of Ft. Lauderdale for Friday January 17, so one way or another I was going to make it there. I had made a few plans for accommodations prior to heading out, but much of it was determined on the fly. My general plan was to make my way to Tampa, head down the coast on Highway 41 toward Marco Island, and then pedal the Everglades to Miami.

Tuesday January 7: Gainesville to Silver Lake

It was with mixed feelings that I rolled out of Max's driveway around 6AM that chilly morning. I made it to Archer on Highway 24 without stopping, had a sip or two of water, shed a layer, and then continued on Highway 41, which would become my compass for the vast majority of the journey. I stopped at a gas station around Williston to thaw my frozen hands and a friendly stranger bought me a cup of coffee, which I regretted for the rest of the day. Coffee has a way of screwing up my digestive system for the next 24 hours and I've found it doesn't yield long term energy; seemed like a good idea at the time... I ate an orange outside a small bar/lounge off the highway and met a friendly Viking's fan. Not that I'm big on sports, but it's always fun to connect over something. I enjoyed wide shoulders/bike lanes until around Inverness, where I was forced onto the edge of the highway and started getting honks as people would pass. For a while I had been trying to hook up with the Withlacoochee trail, an old railroad turned bike path, but I wasn't able to find it until then. As the sun began to set, the mossy grey forests with branches forming a Mirkwood-like canopy over the trail started to creep me out, so it was with much relief that I arrived at Silver Lake campground, around 90 miles from Gainesville! I rolled in around 6PM and set up camp under a picnic shelter rather than the campgrounds. The downside of this method is the general anxiety that a ranger might wake you up and tell you to move on... I snacked on some cabbage, and then headed to bed.

Wednesday January 8: Silver Lake to Tampa

I rolled out around 7AM just as the sun was rising, hopped back on the Withlacoochee trail, and followed it until the trailhead near Dade City. I was definitely glad to be off the Withlacoochee, mostly because the subtle uphill grade drove me nuts. About ten miles outside of Dade, a trailer tire popped a flat due to the high quantity of glass shards on the highway. I would later find that bike lanes in all the major cities (Ft. Myers, Naples, Miami etc.) were minefields of broken glass. I was making good time, so I stopped at a couple of parks here and there and munched on fauxlafels. Throughout the whole trip, I ate 1-2 fauxlafels per day, which provided an unbelievable amount of fuel. The weather was still pretty cool so they were staying fresh. I reached the outskirts of Tampa around 1PM and worked my way to my host's place in Beach Park by about 3 or 4. I stayed with a guy named Michael, who I found via Couchsurfing. Words cannot describe how good the hot shower at his place felt... While he cooked up some turkey/white bean chili, we chatted about cooking over a couple beers. He used nutmeg in the chili; I always forget how good it can be in savory dishes! After dinner, he drove me around and showed me the different spots in Tampa. Not a very exciting town, but I was digging some of the cool houses. Michael was an unbelievably generous guy and gave me a great first impression of Couchsurfing! I will definitely pay it forward when I host in the future...I had a very restful sleep on his air mattress.

Thursday January 9: Tampa to Siesta Key

The ride out of Tampa was pretty uneventful; I found myself in rush hour traffic as I worked my way through downtown. South of the city, Highway 41 stays pretty industrial for about 30 or 40 miles. Outside of Palmetto, I stopped at a little store on the side of the road called "The Garden", where a very nice lady cut me up a free orange and we exchanged the usual talk about how cold it is in Florida, but nothing compared to Minnesota. Near Bradenton, I snacked on a fauxlafel on a pier and looked out over the bay. Once in town, I ventured off Highway 41 toward the coast and crossed a causeway onto Long Boat Key, greeted by cigar smoke and a wide bike lane. I saw my first Chilean pine of the trip and finally got a glimpse of the ocean! Somewhere on the island I noticed that the same trailer tire had a slow leak, which it took me a while to locate and patch. I lost quite a bit of time on the side of the road there. Long Boat Key was longer than I had anticipated and at sunset, I was still at least 15 miles from where I planned on camping on Siesta Key. I had been noticing some extra resistance while riding; I assumed it was a slight headwind, but that was not the case as I discovered the next day... To get to Siesta Key, I had to cross back over to the mainland, ride through downtown Sarasota, and then head back out to the island. My morale was pretty low as I raced the sunlight and battled impatient Sarasotans driving their BMWs from the golf course to the steakhouse. On Siesta Key, I passed by a resort-type bar with a guitar player singing Neil Young's "Down by the River." I don't know if Mr. Young would approve... After an hour or two of frustrated pedaling, I finally reached Turtle Beach on Siesta Key. It was silent save for the whispering grasses and crashing surf, ideal for a camping spot. I set up my tent on the beach near the dunes, fried up some cabbage/kale/parmesan goodness, left my fry pan outside the tent because I was too lazy to clean it, and then went to sleep. I awoke in the middle of the night to some scratching sounds outside. I initially assumed mice or rats, but when I shined my light outside I saw a large crab clawing away at my food scraps. He looked up at me with his little crab eyes and then darted under the tent, which puzzled me until I put away my tent in the morning and discovered a hole he had dug in the sand.

 Friday January 10: Siesta Key to Ft. Myers

It was a pretty lame morning of riding. The road curved away from the coast at a slight uphill grade and I was still experiencing extra resistance. In Port Charlotte, my bike was squeeking quite a bit so I stopped at a bike shop to get a quick squirt of oil. It was around lunchtime and I couldn't resist stopping at the Cici's Pizza Buffet next door for old time's sake. Before it closed, we used to love going to the one on Robert Street and getting our $5 worth of unlimited pizza and cinnamon rolls. Since I had already ridden about 40 miles that day, I had an insatiable appetite and definitely gave them a run for their money. 

About ten miles past Punta Gorda, my crank started to feel pretty crunchy and a few miles later, bearings were falling out on the highway. I pulled over at a Walgreen's and tried to jerryrig a fix with some cloth I had in my backpack. While I was doing this a red-faced Floridian in golf attire walked up and asked me what seemed to be the problem. I explained and he responded, indicating my trailer, "What's all this? Are you homeless?" Hearing the scornful, condescending way he said that, I decided to decline his offer to drive me to the nearest bike shop. I continued on a mile or two with my rig job and finally gave up near a gas station. I walked up to a guy with a truck and offered to pay him for a ride into Ft. Myers (about 15 miles). He was going that direction anyway so he gave me a free lift. I had a really nice chat with Kenny, a Floridian native who sells car parts.  He knew of a bike shop in North Ft. Myers, which ended up being closed by the time we got there (5PM). I noticed another shop across the street and headed over there after thanking Kenny. I immediately hit it off with the bike repairman, a laid-back BMX biker named Arley. Initially he was doubtful that he had the parts to rebuild my crank, but eventually found some and fixed me up for $10. While he was doing this, I was scanning my map for potential stealth camp locations in town. He must have seen me and warned that most of the usual spots would already have hostile residents, offering to call up his friend David to see if I could stay with him. Before he had a chance to do this, David called him! Arley gave me a ride outside Ft. Myers to David, a bearded, white-haired old hippie who offered to put me up in his RV out front. He is an avid cyclist and former Boy Scout, so we had plenty to talk about. I spent the evening organizing my things and doing some writing in the air-conditioned RV before going to sleep.

Saturday January 11: Ft. Myers to Marco Island

The night before, David had instructed me, "If you do a normal morning poop, you'll want to head out back past the dry stream bed to the outhouse." So I headed out back and was greeted by a large orchard of orange trees. I crossed the creek bed and then saw the chickens and rabbits. The chickens were set up in movable shelters so they would always have new pasture to munch on. I didn't think things could get any more awesome until I went into the bathroom and saw a ghostly-white frog. David must have been off working somewhere else on his farm because I didn't see him in the morning. I left a note, packed up my things and rambled on. I was immediately frustrated to notice that my crank was still a little wobbly, better than yesterday, but still not quite rideable. I had decided to head back to the bike shop when my back tire popped a flat. I pulled a two inch screw out of my tire and then replaced it with my spare tube, figuring I would patch the other tube later. I finally made it to the bike shop, where Arley replaced a few more parts and got the Free Spirit riding smoothly again (for no additional charge). I said goodbye, thanked him for everything, and then headed out on the road around 1PM, a lot later than I would have liked. It was in the low 80's and sunny, a perfect day for riding aside from the outrageous headwind that I battled all day. I stopped at a roadside produce stand, where a Mexican named Max offered me about ten oranges and bottles of frozen water. Although he was very friendly, his English was totally command based. "Take these." "Drink this." I was very grateful. I continued riding past Naples toward Marco Island, where I would be staying with my roommate's friend Michael and his family. I was looking forward to their company when I noticed a slow leak in my back tire. It was getting pretty dark at this point and I had no emotional energy left for bike problems. While changing the tire, I accidentally stepped in a hill of fire ants, which really pushed me to the edge. In this exasperated state, I failed to patch that morning's tire punctured by the screw. The hole went through the other side of the tube and I just couldn't get a patch job that would seal. Finally, I just put in the same tire and pumped it up periodically on my way to Marco. Michael and his family greeted me warmly in my agitated state, offering me a shower, beer, and black bean burritos. Again, I was oh so grateful. Michael is a third generation Marco Islander; they were on the island when it was mangroves, before it became a utopian retirement community. Although we enjoyed really good conversation, I think I freaked out Michael's parents a bit because I had not made many plans for the rest of the trip and had not yet found a host in Miami. Thankfully, they had internet, so I did some quick couchsurfing and found myself a host. Although Michael and I had not met prior to this trip, we immediately hit it off. Michael's friend Courtney came over and we hung out for a few hours outside, where it was in the high 60's, a very relaxing end to a very frustrating day.

Sunday January 12: Marco Island

As it turned out, Sunday was my day of rest. Michael and I enjoyed some coffee and egg wraps made by his mom and then headed to the bike shop, where I paid $12 for a thorn-resistant bike tube (that's Marco Island for ya). We went on a bike adventure to the beach, and I went for a quick swim. The water was too cold for the Floridians, but for a Minnesotan it was paradise! He showed me some more spots, including an undeveloped area with a couple of gopher tortoises and we had a good time riding up and down some of the steep hills on the island (where the neighborhood association has erected "No Skateboarding" signs every fifty yards or so). We also stopped at an abandoned house with a star fruit tree outside and had our fill. The houses are luxurious, but somewhat eerie and almost empty. Michael and I had planned on heading to his family's cabin in the Everglades that was built before the area was designated as a preserve, so on Sunday afternoon, we piled my bike and trailer in their jeep and drove about a half hour to the camp down some pretty wild roads. The solar powered, one-room cabin is elevated above the swamp and collects rain water with a series of tubes and barrels. We had a nice long walk through the swamp and then out into the prairie, where we watched the sun set. I cooked up some cabbage and Michael warmed up some minestrone soup, which we enjoyed immensely. We sipped on beers and played a game of rummy before heading to bed. I had a very restful night sleeping next to an open window listening to the sounds of the swamp.

 Monday January 13: Fakahatchee Strand to Miami Outskirts

Michael dropped me off at the highway on his way back to Marco and we said farewell. I am eternally grateful to Michael and his family; my stay with them rejuvenated my spirit and gave me the energy to finish the last leg of the journey. My ride through the Everglades was very peaceful. For the first time this trip, I listened to some classical music on the radio as I biked 30-40 miles through Fakahatchee Strand and Big Cypress preserves. I was enjoying the wilderness on either side of me when all of a sudden, the road curved and the woods became an endless expanse of marsh. There was a pretty powerful moment when I spotted two cyclists loaded up with saddle bags pedaling the opposite way. We exchanged a very hearty salute as we passed on the road. Despite a crazy headwind, I made some great time and made it to Coopertown around 3PM near the outskirts of Miami, where I bought a couple of $1 beers and enjoyed them on the porch. I knew I couldn't pedal the Everglades and tackle Miami all in one day, so I had decided to camp on the outskirts of town. Around 5PM, I headed toward a boat launch, where the Air Boat Tour companies were taking out the last of their boats. I cooked up some mackerel and onions and feasted as night set in. This night was somewhat restless filled with anxiety that a cop on a power trip or a hostile hobo would cause me trouble.

Tuesday January 14: Miami Outskirts to Aventura

I packed up my equipment and headed into Miami as the Air Boat guys were putting their boats in for the day. I first pedaled through a heavily-Cuban area (Little Havana), through Little Haiti to my host’s place.

Wednesday January 15: Aventura

I spent the morning hopping around between different libraries pretending to be a Miami citizen so I could use the computers for free to catch up on internet things and start working on this post. In the afternoon, I walked over to the beach and went on a long walk north and south to the Newport Pier. This took me to about 5PM, when I headed back to Mark's place and enjoyed some rice, hamburger, and spinach salad.

Thursday January 16: Aventura

I sold my bike on craigslist for $130! I spent the afternoon at the library and then switched host locations to give Mark a break. At my new location I met another couchsurfer who was checking out a Physician’s Assistant program at a local college.

Friday January 17: Ft. Lauderdale

Friday I relaxed, made some food, and read my book. Later in the day, the other couchsurfer and I checked out John Lloyd Beach State Park in Ft. Lauderdale before he gave me a ride to the airport.

 Overall, I found that Florida was pretty bike friendly. The highways have pretty wide shoulders and sometimes even bike lanes, but in the absence of those, drivers become impatient. I surprisingly received only about five honks throughout the whole trip. In the future, I will probably embark from somewhere like the Twin Cities so I can have a more reliable ride; mechanical problems are no fun and would have ruined my trip if I didn’t happen upon the right people. These types of trips are empowering when you look at the map at the end of the day and see how far you've gone, but also incredibly humbling as you battle a headwind on a desolate highway with cars zooming by at 80 miles per hour inches away from you. I would really like to extend my gratitude to Thomas in Gainesville, Michael in Tampa, the friendly lady at "the Garden", Kenny outside of Ft. Myers, Arley and the guys at Just Riding Along Bicycle Company, David and his family outside of Ft. Myers, Max the Mexican, and Michael & his family.