Days 38-40: The Fun Coast

Sections of coastal Florida compete for tourists through the use of various nicknames such as the "The Emerald Coast," "The Palm Coast," and the more direct "Fun Coast." St. Augustine is part of the "First Coast," as in the first coast you see when driving to Florida and also the earliest-settled coast. South of the First Coast is the Fun Coast. On the morning of Monday, October 5 I picked up my last map at the St. Augustine post office and set out for the Fun Coast. Family friends from Ann Arbor had invited me to stay at their part-time home in Flagler Beach, approximately 35 miles to the south, and have a look around.

The McCauleys' house is located less than one mile west of my bike route, across the Intracoastal Waterway. Complete with a screened-in backyard pool, it was built just yards from the waterway, where they see dolphins and manatees on a daily basis. I arrived early in the afternoon and stayed through the following day. Being extremely hospitable folk, they took me out to lunch at a delicious oceanview restaurant, let my grungy self swim in their pool, and gave me an educational tour of the local area that included the largest remaining southern live oak in the South: a gargantuan individual known as the Fairchild Oak, believed to be four centuries old (I'm pictured in front of it here). It's branches are so long and heavy that they drag along the ground. One branch is actually buried and resurfaces a few feet beyond.

Florida is experiencing a heat wave at the moment, and residents are complaining that it feels like August here. Each day this week came close to breaking temperature records for October, so I was lucky to spend one full day in the McCauleys' air conditioned home. Reluctantly, I left Flagler Beach on Wednesday, October 7, which ended up finally breaking the record with a high of 93 degrees. Around midday I hit Daytona Beach, which I was surprised to find has a really fun, retro feel and is populated by tiny 1- and 2-bedroom beach bungalows painted all different colors. Extensive beach erosion has caused the waves at Daytona to lick at the very toes of the high-rise waterfront condos and hotels, meaning I could see the waves crashing in between every block to my left as I was riding.

Leaving Daytona Beach I took a water taxi across a large inlet not spanned by bridges, as recommended by the McCauleys. Anything that gets me off of the bike saddle is a no-brainer for me, and given the heat it was a scenic and breezy way to eat up a few miles, despite the fact that at the pier I was subject to the most expensive ($6.50) root beer float yet. Bugger.