Day 47
(77 miles; 775 ft gain, Strava map)
Leaving New Orleans wasn’t pretty. After slipping out of downtown and avoiding the tourists, we were on a mostly empty road covered in trash and old tires for many miles. As we left the city, there was a pile of at least a dozen bicycles painted white; typically, a painted bicycle on the road indicates a cyclist was killed there, so I hoped the pileup wasn’t what I thought it was. We passed a Bridge Out sign but ducked under a gate to keep going. The road was pretty rough but still rideable. A few swamps were periodically present, and, in one instance, broken power lines had fallen into the water. We saw a few dead alligators on the road, about 1-2 ft long, but never any live ones. There wasn’t much else to see along the way, except NASA and Folgers Coffee company buildings which seemed out of place in rural Louisiana. Near the state border, there was a flipped over boat that read “Body Inside” which seemed in place for rural Louisiana.
We made it to Mississippi and did a little Single Ladies by Beyoncé dance! The states are so tiny compared to Texas that we just fly through them now! Continuing along, there were a lot of swamps, bridges, and advertisements for swamp tour rides.
As we neared Gulfport and Biloxi, the houses became very nice, and you could tell the neighborhoods were much more affluent. There were manicured lawns and pastel colored homes raised high off the ground in case of flooding, and they had beachside views. We biked along the boardwalk next to the sandy beach on the Bay of St. Louis just completely marveling at the blue water, sand, and sunlight; it was such a contrast to the morning swamp and trash.
At the end of the day, we sought out impossible burgers at Burger King and met a woman named Susan. She was fashionably dressed and took an interest in us, thinking we were riding motorcycles until we corrected her. “I used to ride motorcycles all the time. Loved them!” She exclaimed.
“Did you have a sexy man in front of you driving?” I teased.
“Well, of course! I ain’t dead!”
We also learned that Susan had made a fake ID years ago to sneak backstage into a Willie Nelson concert.
“And I made sure to lock lips with him!” She proudly stated excitedly.
“Did you have a husband?” Casey asked.
“Oh yes, but we don’t take him everywhere now do we?”
While eating our burgers, we discussed something kind of intense. What if we just did century rides (100 miles) every day to get done by Saturday? We had only done one century ride this trip, and we had never done two back to back, let alone four or five in a row. But we really wanted to be done, and we had all day to ride, so why not go for it? We also hadn’t reached our physical limits yet, and we didn’t know what we were capable of, so this would be a great test! We termed this week Hell Week.
New plan in tact, we found a spot to sleep in a church sanctuary not too far away. It was a private square with some stone benches and a cross, and it seemed like an amazing secluded spot (it was terrible). It was sticky and humid, and the mosquitoes wouldn't stop biting me. Periodically, the church AC units would kick on, creating a deafening white noise that you could sleep to, but then it would turn off suddenly and create a jarring silence. Paired with this, I developed massive rashes on my thighs and calves during the day that radiated heat and felt like stinging sunburn welts which begged an emergency stop at Walgreens to get Benadryl. I tried to sleep with my sleeping bag to protect myself from the mosquitoes, but I was so greasy with sweat that the synthetic material stuck to my rashes. The train also passed every hour, blowing its whistle and startling us. Basically, I got, at most, 3 hours of sleep, the Benadryl was useless at knocking me out (something I was excited for), and I periodically looked at Casey who was sound asleep.
How the fuck does she do that? This is complete bullshit.
Day 48
(84 miles; 784 ft gain, Strava map)
At 5:50 AM, we were packed and leaving the church, and I’m super proud of Casey for her stellar speedy wake-up (something she’s been working on). McDonalds was nearby, and coffee was calling. I felt like complete garbage with bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, and I was upset that I couldn’t get enough sleep for our first century ride of Hell Week. It was going to be a rough one.
We spent the morning on the boardwalk biking through Gulfport and Biloxi, and it was so beautiful being on the beach. Crossing the Bay of St. Louis on the giant, arching bridge was really neat and fun, especially because there was enough of a shoulder for us to feel safe.
I screeched to a halt when we passed a bike shop; on a Monday, all the bike shops were closed except for Tri Hard Sports, and my tires desperately needed filled. Gavin was wonderful and helped service my tires, and Casey had her back breaks fixed. We hadn’t filled our tires with air since Marfa, TX (oops), and they were at an embarrassing 40 psi. I also loaded up on a lot of Gu electrolyte packets for Hell Week, as if they would combat soreness and no sleep.
As we were casually riding, a group of 5 guys on flashy bikes showed up beside us, and their van was following close behind. We were engulfed in their peloton as the questions started: Where are you going? Where are you coming from? Chatting with them was a nice reprieve from biking in silence, and the miles flew by. We found out that they were doing a charity ride for The Arc, a group that creates programs for intellectually disabled people, and they each had to raise at least $5,000 to go on this tour. They were doing their tour for a good cause, and we had to sheepishly say, “No, we aren’t biking for charity.” However, they were so blown away by our trip, that they invited us to stay with them that night on the Dauphin Islands. It would be ~15 miles short of our goal of 100, but it was hard to pass up the offer of a hotel room, dinner, and new friends. Their group consisted of: Jason and Rhonda who drove the van, Norman who won Race Across America, Michael (Norman’s coach and buddy), Vivek, Tristram, and Justin. And they were so kind to us! One guy gave us two bags of bars (Pay Days, Fig Bars, Chocolate Chewys), another gave me biking gloves because I had lost one of mine. It was great to just talk about biking and touring with other cyclists, and these guys knew what they were doing. Their setups and outfits put ours to shame, and apparently there were issues with our biking fits too: Casey’s toes pointed down, and my hips rocked too much. I really wanted to learn more, and it excites me to become better at bike mechanics when the trip ends.
The group of us took pictures at the Alabama state sign, and they joined us for our little state line dance. It wasn’t long before they zipped away in their perfect speedy formation, and Casey and I slowed back down to the rhythm of the long haul.
The headwind was the most challenging part of the day. It was blowing directly into our faces, and we were caught against it for probably the last 15 miles. We couldn’t complain knowing we had a shower, bed, and dinner waiting for us, but the fight was exhausting. The long bridge spanning to the Dauphin Islands was, in my head, supposed to be this epic and beautiful stretch, but the wind made it so awful. I could tell Casey was in a bad mood, too.
We rolled into the Gulf Breeze motel, a bright blue, beach-styled building that had two stories of motel rooms. The guys were naturally already there and cheered when we arrived. We were given room 205 and lugged our heavy bikes up the flight of stairs, collapsing on the beds.
At 6, we all hopped in the van and went to Capt’n Snapper’s Restaurant, a mile or so away from the motel. Our waitress was a sassy, black haired, tattooed woman in her 40s who had no time for bullshit or sucking up to customers. We filled up on a lot of fried food appetizers, and I was delighted with my seafood pasta in Alfredo sauce. Casey couldn’t eat much on the menu except some fried veggies, unfortunately. It was still really nice to catch up with the group and learn more about them and their trip.
Day 49
(101 miles; 1598 ft gain, Strava map)
It was unfortunate that the first ferry left at 8 AM. We needed to do 100 miles (especially because the previous day was cut short), and we wouldn’t be able to start riding until 9 AM. But, we didn’t have a choice but wait, and it wasn’t hard to do from the comforts of our hotel room. We slept so well, and I recovered from the previous day of no sleep.
The ferry was enjoyable, though it seemed like cheating a little bit even though it was on the approved Adventure Cycling route. It wasn’t far, maybe a half mile, and it saved us from biking 90 miles around through Mobile. We enjoyed the breeze and forced break.
After saying bye to the boys who sped off in formation, we spent a lot of the morning on bike trails which were gloriously paved and which weaved through beautiful shaded trees. We passed an organized group on e-bikes, and one guy walkie-talkied to the rest, “Hey everyone, we’ve got some real bikers coming up on the left”, and that made us laugh. We’re real bikers! When the moment presented, we stopped at Rouses to finally pick up some more fresh food.
When Alabama started to look stereotypically like Florida, we knew we were close to the state line. There were beaches, palm trees, surfing business, and bright pastel colored buildings. We saw it in the distance on the roadside: Welcome to Florida, the sunshine state. We couldn’t help but start crying, and my heart was racing as we reached the line. We made it from California to Florida! On bicycles! We did our 7th and final state line happy dance.
The high of crossing the final state stayed with us for a while; however, one of the annoying things about Florida is that it’s hilly. In our minds, it was supposed to be flat the rest of the way, but there were really punchy rollers the whole time. It just made the ride harder, though our goal of doing 100 miles remained the same.
It was a long day of riding, and we finally arrived in a wooded rural area with a church, Pleasant Home Baptist Church. Most of the churches here are Baptist, and this one had an outdoor spigot and outlet, the essentials. We felt secluded in the back, though the graveyard was right next door.
I talked to my brother for a little while, and he read me “Florida Man” news headlines:
Florida man in ”No, seriously, I have drugs” T-shirt arrested for possession of drugs.
Florida man suspected of using private plane to draw giant radar penis.
Florida man charged with assault with a deadly weapon after throwing alligator through Wendy’s drive-thru window.
My rash came back, and it looked terrible. I don’t know the cause of it, but wearing the same clothes every day might be problematic.
I pitched my tent and escaped into it because the mosquitoes and biting gnats were munching us ruthlessly. It was satisfying hearing the mosquitoes trying in vain to get through the mesh but failing, unlike two days. Unfortunately, my tent had snail carcasses all over it from our night before Baton Rouge, and it was smelling moldy from not completely drying out. The result was me feeling congested and stuffy all night in my damp snaily tent.
Day 50
(111 miles; 2620 ft gain, Strava map)
In the morning, our tents were sopping wet. So much dew had covered us that it was dripping through the mesh like it was raining. We just stuffed the wet balls of fabric into our panniers and hoped to dry them out later.
At our first gas station, we garnered a lot of attention from the locals who were hanging out on the benches. One big, burly, redneck man with long, unkept, dirty blonde hair told us, “If I had a daughter your age who wanted to do this, I’d whoop her ass.” As a 26-year-old adult with my own bills and apartment, I was visibly confused at the thought of anyone feeling entitled to kick my ass over me making my own life decisions. Multiple people also asked if we had guns or knives because we would “definitely be needing them” soon. David, a middle-aged guy who hiked 300 miles of the Appalachian Trail and who was planning on doing a river trip on the Missouri River gave us his card. “If y’all run into any issues or anything, call me. I’m a retired deputy, not a creeper or anything.”
We stared drinking energy drinks this day. I don’t know why we hadn’t thought of it until this late in the trip, but they were so good, and I was excited to have an extra boost to get us through Hell Week. We each downed one before 8 AM.
We also discovered that Florida really doesn’t like cyclists, and, actually, Florida has the most cyclist deaths per capita. A lot of people honk at us, so Casey blows her airhorn back at them. We have changed since the beginning of the trip: we used to feel bad at being in the way, and we were timid and nervous about cars. Now, we yell back, flip them off, and confidently bike in lane when we don’t have a designated bike lane because we have a right to be on the road too. Also, too many cars try to squeeze by us, nearly clipping us. When we take up more space on the road, cars can’t side swipe us, so they get mad. One guy on a motorcycle made us laugh, though: he mimicked pedaling his feet as he passed us.
We stopped for lunch in Defuniak which concluded the map segment from New Orleans. We were officially starting the final map of the trip! While loitering (as we usually do), an older woman named Odette who wore pink cheetah clothes asked about our trip, and as she was leaving, she gave us $20 and wished us luck.
Around 3 PM, we stopped at another gas station. At this point, we were definitely hitting a wall, so I bought another energy drink which was so delicious. A guy asked where we were coming from, and when we told him, he said “Damn y’all bad! Don’t go kicking anyone with those legs!”
We were so tired and so hungry that the town Mariana wouldn’t come fast enough. Of course, Casey got a flat tire (the first since Phoenix with our puncture-proof tires) having run over a large nail, so we had to spend time patching it. This was our twelfth and final flat of the tour, and two men in different trucks pulled over to ask if we needed help. As tire fixing pros, we didn't need assistance anymore, so we were back on the road in no time. After flipping off some guys that whistled at us at an intersection, we made a beeline straight for a Chinese buffet as soon as we got to town. The waiter tried to prematurely give us the check, but that didn’t stop us from crushing multiple plates of food.
That evening, we arrived at another church and pitched our tents in the back with permission. I forgot to dry my tent out during the day, so I crawled in the wet mess and had to deal with getting congested again. My knees throbbed and my body was sore as I laid on the hard ground. The street lights flooded into my tent making it hard to sleep, and even though I was insanely exhausted, my brain could not transition to sleep. The 3 PM energy drink haunted me, and I could have cried just thinking of doing another 100 miles with no sleep.
At around midnight, a flashlight shined into our tents. “Knock knock!” A police offer said.
I was still wide awake, but Casey groggily awoke and unzipped her tent, peaking out. The officer asked if we had permission to be there and what we were doing. After explaining our situation and that we did, indeed, have permission, he left us alone.
Energy drinks suck. I’m never drinking one again.
Day 51
(105 miles; 3722 ft gain, Strava map)
Another morning, another drenched tent. Having had only 4.5 hours of sleep, it was a rough awakening. The bags under my eyes had returned, and we biked quickly to a gas station to get some coffee and food. There was a mini breakfast deli, named Blondies, so I picked up two egg sandwiches to finally have something hot and non-packaged.
We are so sick of trash food. Gas station food is destroying us, and we feel disgusting, even though we are putting in a lot of mileage biking. It sounds crazy, but we often felt bloated, fat, and unhealthy. We had to stop at a real grocery store to pick up some fresh food, and Piggly Wiggly was the first one we saw (also, southern grocery stores have the cutest names!). While Casey went inside first, I waited and talked with a guy who was sweeping up the cigarette butts.
“Oh don’t worry,” he said when I made an effort to move out of his way. “I get paid by the hour. I’m Jon Jon: name’s so nice, my mama named me twice.” He was real sweet and enjoyable to chat with, though I was deliriously tired.
By mile 60, my butt was hurting so bad that it was impacting my biking. I had sores, and it felt bruised on my sit bones. I would periodically wince in pain if I shifted wrong, and we still had 40-50 miles left to go. Casey’s neck and back were killing her due to leaning forward on the handle bars for so many hours, so we both were physically struggling. We needed to be done on Saturday, emotionally, physically, and mentally. We were checked out and needed relief.
We went through Tallahassee which was mostly not fun. Instead of dipping south into Tallahassee as the route suggested, we kept straight on 90 knowing it wasn’t the most recommended way. Basically, there wasn’t a bike lane for a while, and there was a lot of traffic. People yelled at us and honked their horns, cutting closely beside us. We just put our heads down and powered through the city as quick as we could.
Greenville was 9 miles away when we had hit 100 miles. I couldn’t make it that far; I was hurting too much. But, we found another Baptist church not too far off route and met a guy named Brian who was doing some maintenance at the church. He called the pastor who lived next door (but who was out of the house), and we had permission to set up camp. In the meantime, Brian gifted us some snacks and water, and the neighbor, Julie, offered us her bathroom to wash up. She was so sweet and cheery, and I am very grateful for her!
Day 52
(103 miles; 1542 ft gain, Strava map)
I made sure to set my alarm for 5:30 AM, so I could catch Julie before she left for work. We exchanged numbers, and I went back to bed because the sun didn’t rise until 6:30 AM as we were in the eastern time zone now.
We were so creaky. Our knees ached, having done three 100+ mile rides in a row. My butt was still in pain from the previous day, and we have sores from sitting in the saddle for 8+ hours a day. We were really pushing to make it to Saint Augustine on Saturday.
The day before finishing was both sad and exciting. We both very badly wanted to be done, and we were ready to stop biking and go home. However, this trip had taken 52 days so far, and we met many wonderful people and have seen so much of the south. I didn’t want to rush the final ending, but it was hard not to with the finish line closing in.
We made a quick stop at Burger King and filled up on more impossible burgers. So far, we had gone 70 miles and were exhausted. I even started nodding off while sitting on the sidewalk waiting for Casey to come out of the bathroom. Thirty more miles to go sounded terrible.
Like Tallahassee, biking through Lake City was bad. There was no lane for cyclists, and everyone honks or yells at you. A cop actually pulled us over to suggest we bike on the sidewalk instead. Then, we took a turn onto 100 from 90 and had a glorious bike lane.
The sky looked pretty ominously dark.
Casey: “Is it going to rain?”
Me: “No, I don’t think so.”
It rained. A lot and hard. We were soaked, and I realized all my panniers were slightly open since I got used to it not raining for 20+ days. Cars sped by us which was scary since visibility was lower. We paused at a gas station after the rains subsided and saw another impending storm up ahead. We were at 97 miles and knew a church was close. So, we raced to beat the storm and, in the meantime, saw a bolt of lighting vertically strike the horizon in the distance.
We pulled into the church, and it was probably the most uncomfortable place we have stopped at to stay. The church seemed abandoned, and there hadn’t been a review for the place in 9 years. There was an outdoor bathroom and a side building that had a screened in porch. We popped into the porch to stealthily sleep, but I was worried that someone might catch and report us for technically breaking and entering. This was the first time we physically entered a building without permission. It was getting dark and the storm kept us from moving ahead, so we risked it.
Upon further investigation of our route, we saw that we had a bridge coming up after Green Cove Springs. Uri noticed that all biking routes avoided that bridge, and we didn’t know why. Casey did some googling and found on Reddit that everyone said it was a death bridge and to not take it under any circumstances, so we decided to route south to Palatka and then to Saint Augustine. I really hoped this was a good choice.
We settled into our beds on the porch, me on my sleeping pad on the ground and Casey laying across 5-6 old cushioned chairs. There were a lot of cockroaches running around, and I really hoped none would run over me while I slept, or at least that I wouldn’t notice them. Around 11 PM, larger animals, probably opossums, began to move beneath me under the floorboards, scuffling and munching on who knows what.
Day 53
(86 miles; 941 ft gain, Strava map)
From 1 AM to 4 AM there was a raging karaoke party across the street, and everyone sang like shit. Casey had no idea it even happened, but I was awake the whole time. I could not catch a break this week with sleep, and it was wearing on me (along with the four consecutive 100 mile rides). The dust on the floorboards coated me and made me extremely itchy in the night, too. I kept thinking about Hantavirus and wondered how long I had left to live. I was so relieved when 6 AM rolled around so that we could get the hell out of that place and be on the road. Our final day!
I thought maybe I’d be sad on the final day, but I was so sleep deprived, my quads were in pain, and everything hurt. Casey’s neck and back were aching, her jaw pain returned, and her left knee was sore. We were also painfully itchy from being gross for too long. We needed to be done, and we were anxious to finish.
We stopped at the Winn Dixie grocery store to have our last breakfast. It was nice having coffee, a smoothie, and some carrot cake parfait while Casey had breakfast tortillas. We were already celebrating our finish, and it was annoying that we still had 66 miles to go.
The day was long and boring. It wasn’t a very pretty area, just forests and larger roads. At one point, I crashed my bike pretty hard; I was wearing regular tennis shoes instead of my biking shoes because my bike shoes were soaked from the rain. My foot slipped off the pedal, and I hit the cement. Immediately, a white SUV with a Salt Life sticker pulled over, and the driver checked to see if I was OK. My knee was scuffed, and I developed a bad bruise on my thigh, but everything was fine.
We had a bike trail for many miles before Saint Augustine, and when traffic started to pick up, it became exciting. We were getting close! I couldn’t believe when we saw the sign “Saint Augustine City Limits”. At 3 PM, it didn't really sink in that we had made it. The downtown was pretty with older buildings, but we didn’t stop because we had yet to see the ocean. We pushed the extra miles to the beach and turned at the first place there was beach access. And we saw it: the bright blue ocean with waves lapping up on the seashell-laden beach. We were laughing and running poorly through the sand to get to the water as fast as we could. With helmets and shoes still on, we set our bikes down and barreled into the water, falling into the salty waves. It was warmer than the Pacific and felt so refreshing. We hugged, and my heart was full as we bobbed and drifted in the Atlantic.
Casey’s dad, John, was at the next beach over waiting for us. He drove from New York and had arrived around 11 AM at the main populated beach. We didn’t realize he was there waiting, and we went to join him. A surf competition was going on with an announcing tent sponsored by Flat Tire. When we arrived, walking our bikes across the sand in front of hundreds of people, they had a “special announcement”. They announced to the whole beach that we had biked there from San Diego. Everyone clapped for us, and they gave us some cool merchandise, like a biking hat, water bottle, and t-shirt. We took pictures, and ran into the ocean again!
For dinner, we went to A1A Burrito Works and stayed at the Island Inn that night, courtesy of John.
In the morning, we walked around old Saint Augustine and ate an early lunch at the Burger Bucket. The veggie burgers and fries were so good, and I inhaled my food. I suspected for the next few days we would be eating our weight in food, and that would be quite alright with me because I was so hungry all of the time.
We took off on our 15 hour drive back to New York, but this time I was happy to not be sitting on a bike seat.
If you’re reading this, thanks for joining along our adventure! I hope to share a reflective post about the whole trip soon.
As Parker from Hillsboro, NM said to us: It’s about the journey, not the destination.
Happy tailwinds!
Update:
Marshall and Dave finished May 19th!
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