On the morning of Monday, October 19 I set out for my last ride. I'd spent the night at Bahia Honda state park on Big Pine Key, located 30 miles east of Key West. The weather was auspiciously sunny and warm, as the last few days had been cool and extremely windy after a cold front dropped temperatures 20 degrees. I planned to take it easy through the Keys, riding only 30 miles per day. I wanted to enjoy my last week on the road since I had plenty of time before my return flight home. As it turned out, the winds made crossing the Keys' famous 42 bridges a draining enterprise, and 30 miles of roaring winds was all I could handle before my nerves were frayed and my throat hoarse from cursing. The Key winds were constant and seemed to come from all directions at once. Two nights in a row I'd hardly slept due to the cold temperatures, the startling crash of debris as it blew down and skidded along the pavement and worries that my gear would blow away in the night. This last day out, however, I had nothing but steady tailwinds.
It took a few hours to cross the last series of bridges and narrow barrier islands. Often I had a view of both the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean at once. Around 5pm I crossed into Key West. I followed the southern edge of the island, riding just feet from the water. Though it was a bit overcast I could see the sun beginning to set as I rode into town grinning from ear to ear. I had done it! Well, almost. After waiting 10 minutes in line with other much fresher tourists to touch the giant grounded buoy that marks the southernmost point in the continental U.S. (pictured) I received my official papers.
Foremost on my mind was that I had dispelled my biggest fear coming out there, that I didn't have what it took i.e. the discipline or resolve to complete this journey. I realized how rare it is to be able to reach a milestone so tangible and discrete that you can have no doubts about what you've accomplished.
I spent three days at Key West sightseeing and getting a little business done. Only one bike shop on the island was willing to dismantle my bike and pack it up for shipment home. The rest complained they'd been burned so badly packing bikes that became destroyed en route that it was no longer profitable for them to ship bikes, which made me a little concerned but what choice did I have?
Key West was full of the famous feral chickens and six-toed cats (although they wouldn't let me get close enough to count) I'd heard about. I saw the houses Ernest Hemingway and President Harry Truman had kept. Hemingway's home was one of the largest on the island, an old southern plantation style house with a two-story wraparound porch. Frankly, though, the exotic animals and palm trees aside, Key West reminded me of Ann Arbor. Free spirits cruise around in hand painted cars featuring kitschy collectibles or animal figurines glued to the hood. The thrifty ride brightly painted bikes with giant wheels and streamers. Other Key residents call Key West "Key Weird" (which is truly the pot calling the kettle black) but to me, it sort of felt like home.
To those of you loyal enough to stay with me to the end, thank you for following along. For more information regarding whether I was able to achieve the perfect tan (admittedly, my failure can be clearly seen in the picture above), to what extent I was able to carve out a new direction in life, and which fast food retailers serve the best biscuits, a personal conversation will be required. Happy holidays to all and I'd love to hear from you! Thank you for your support and encouragement.
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