Postgame Analysis

Towns: 157

Counties: 57

States: 5 + D.C.

Miles: 2,040

Days: 52

Riding days: 41

Days off: 11

Avg. speed: 10.5 mph

Avg. miles/day: 45 

Motels: 15

Campgrounds: 20

Hostels/private homes/other: 14

Pop tarts: hundreds

Day 52: Key West and The End

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.

Days 48-50: Key Largo

On Thursday, October 15 I left Homestead, Florida for Key Largo, 30 miles away. At the Monroe County line (the official entrance to the Florida Keys) I had the most aggressively anti-biker experience of my trip when a tollbooth operator yelled curses at me and told the driver behind me to take me out on the road for accidentally riding over the treadle. This was not the welcome I was hoping for.

Although songs written about Key Largo indicate it was once a beautiful destination, the Key Largo of today is, to my mind, rather corporate and crummy. US 1, a four-lane freeway, cuts it right down the middle. In place of a downtown there are cloisters of shopping centers and hotels at various turnoffs. A bike path exists but it runs right along the freeway and is marred by rocky gravel and root outcroppings that don't make for a pleasant or speedy ride. Visitors travel to Key Largo in order to fish and dive, and here, if you're not in or on the water you might as well go home. 

The island's landscape is still recovering from Hurricane Andrew, which destroyed virtually all vegetation on the island in 1992. Standing saltwater remained on the island after the hurricane passed, requiring the government to hose down the island with freshwater to prevent salinization and possible desertification of the soil. Today, Key Largo is covered mainly with the fast-growing brushy weeds that were the first to take over.

The highlight of my visit was a snorkeling tour of the White Banks Reef, part of John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, located just east of Key Largo. The water was warm enough that even without a wetsuit I only started to get chilly 45 minutes in. Having done cold-water scuba before, this was the way to go! Under the water's surface I saw what I learned were elkhorn, staghorn and brain corals, parrotfish, damselfish and barracuda. One big barracuda was dragging a hook and fishing line, and I considered a rescue but wasn't sure the fish would understand. The captain of our boat assured me that the hooks biodegrade in a few weeks and don't bother the fish at all. Sure, they eat it up.

Days 45-46: Miami-Dade County

I arrived in Ft. Lauderdale in the middle of the afternoon on Monday, October 12.  Sometimes called the "Venice of North America," Ft. Lauderdale more closely resembles Dubai. Previously a top spring break destination, Ft. Lauderdale passed strict laws in the mid-1980's to discourage college students, and the city has since been transformed into a true nobleman's playground. Never have I seen such a gaudy display of wealth. I respected it for its idiosyncracy. Rather than hosting a separate marina, the downtown area  is interspersed with canals where residents dock luxury yachts in full view of passing pedestrians (none of my photos turned out well, so the one at left is from Flickr). Bellydancers perform in open-air bars and businessmen sip fine wines at high-end hotels just yards from the beach. The city also hosts a whopping 7 miles of public beach, including one uninterrupted stretch I clocked at 2 miles before turning off. 

I spent the next night at a hostel in South Beach, Miami. The ride between Ft. Lauderdale and Miami was very challenging urban riding, and marked the first and only time I was pulled over by the police. Due to frequent freeways merging on and off on the right I was riding in the left lane, which I knew was against the law but I didn't feel I had much choice given the circumstances. 

South Beach is a hip, fashionable place with a distinct latin flair. The area is famous for its meticulously-restored art deco architechture and Scarface-style drug and mob history. The beaches were also beautiful and I spent several hours romping in the waves.