The Emerald Coast

Thursday, October 17, 2013

I was really excited about this day as I would be hugging the Gulf Coast. HD and I crossed the bridge to Panama City Beach around 8:30 am and we were treated by the sights and sounds of a seasonal tourist spot, Gulf style. There were amusement parks, miniature golf parks, stores, seafood restaurants on every street, hotels, resorts, and condominiums. The busyness of the first 10 miles gave way to quieter stretches of land, with hints of white sand dunes on both sides of the highway. I pulled into public access parking lots and shot a few photos. Since it was no longer summer vacation time, the streets were quieter and I noticed that some restaurants and resorts sported signs saying, “Closed till 2014. See you next year!”  The day was cloudy and threatened some possible showers, so the ocean was gray and moody. It was really wonderful to be there at a quieter time, where I could actually look around at more than the road directly in front of, and behind me. I imagined some thick traffic would be the norm in the spring and summer, requiring my eyes to stay on the road, rather than enjoying the scenery.

This area of the Gulf Coast is referred to as “The Emerald Coast”. When the clouds depart and the day is sunny, the shallow waters near the edge of the bedge are an incredibly vivid green, turning turquoise as the water depth increases. The sand is soft and white; it feels like cornstarch under your feet. It isn’t the grainy, rocky sand of the Pacific Ocean, where I grew up and played. This sand ia luxurious and silky and ever so fine. 

The water temperature was inviting. At a different time, I would be donning a suit and frolicking in the water.

As I turned at Miramar Beach, I stopped at a convenience store for water and a few snacks, as I would be camping that night. I met a young man, just 18 and fresh out of high school, who came into the store with a big backpack. When we were both outside and he stopped in front of the store for a light meal, I asked him about his trip. He is walking from Miami to Mexico. He has no specific plans after that, but said that he wants to learn boxing and get into the boxing circuit, maybe eventually as a professional. He was on the high school wrestling team and he was certainly strong and healthy looking, althoug a bit lean from the miles of walking every day. We talked about exercise regimens and working out the soreness we experience from a long day of physical traveling. He carries a long dowel and slips the backpack straps over the ends and does bicep curls and overhead presses with his makeshift barbell. He sleeps in church parking lots or lawns or sometimes on the beach. Occasionally, a church member may give him a room for the night and sometimes money or food. 

I am much more of a planner. I wanted the safety of established campgrounds and motels. I saved my money and got my affairs in order and then set up a website. The older we get, the more encumbered we are with bills and responsibilities and the need to figure things out before we do whatever it is we want to do. I wanted to take this trip when I was 19. I am so glad I am doing it now, instead. I don’t think I would have been able to finish it when I was that young. Or wise enough to appreciate it. Or brave enough to talk to "strangers". 

The roads are better now. Cycles are more advanced and ready to take the beating of longterm travel. It is even safer now, in my opinion. Communications in this technological age are so much easier to maintain. Now I can talk to my loved ones at any time. I can look up roads on my phone and even get a satellite view, helping me to avoid bad roads or reroute to better ones when I run into dead ends. “In the olden days”, if you needed money, you had to have it wired to you. This was time consuming and expensive. Few people carried credit cards. Debit cards did not exist. Cash was the respected currency. You paid cash for most things. Sometimes, a restaurant or motel would accept a check. But most businesses preferred cash, because checks could bounce. 

Times sure have changed. Enter the Modern World.

I checked into the Henderson State Park Campground in the early evening, took a walk on the beach, and got back to my tent around dark. I exercised, showered, and turned in. The days are getting shorter and it was really too early to be cooped up in my tent, so my tired legs got uncomfortable as the evening wore on. I did exercises in the tent too, but the ole body just didn’t want to be sitting or lying. It was a fitful night, but still, I enjoyed being at the beach.

Another good day, all in all.

Friday, October 18th, 2013

Last night, when I had set up the tent, I smelled the unmistakable odor of mold. It was light, but present. The night was moist, with some light rain, which didn’t do much to dry out the tent. I awakened in the morning with a headache, neckache, and a sense of constriction in my lungs. Yikes! I had not been sick yet and didn’t want to get ill from breathing mold spores. That’s it! Either a new tent, a bleached tent, or no camping until I could eradicate the mold issue. Even so, with the shorter days, I would prefer a private campground like KOA because I could hang out in the rec room and type and walk, etc, and wouldn’t have to spend 10-11 hours in my tent. Definitely I would wash my tent and stay in some motels until the tent issue was fixed.

This would be my last day in Florida. The roads had been sweet and the Panhandlers were respectful of cycles. After exiting the beach and stopping for a cup of coffee, I cycled on 98 past Destin onto a narrow strip of land that was like a connected island, forming part of the Gulf Intercoastal Water Way. It crossed back to the mainland at Fort Walton Beach. Then, at Navarre, you could go across again and travel along for another 5-10 miles. But, alas, there was no lane or room for HD on the bridge, so I chose not to take that 2nd strip option and crossed the more cycle friendly bridge over Pensacola Bay into Pensacola.

I stayed at the Days Inn on North Palafox Street. This sprawling motel consists of about 3 separate buildings, built on a hill, so they are all at different levels. I washed my tent in the motel washing machine, but it still carried a very light mold scent. I would have to get some bleach and do it again. But not tonight---there was no grocery store around, and no bleach to be found. There was a cajun tavern/restaurant attached to the lobby, and the young folks were partying it up in the tavern and in the parking lot. Another Friday night and the young men were feeling froggy. The menu in the tavern was above my modest budget and there were no other restaurants or grocery stores I could see in close proximity. As it was dark, I just walked across the street to the gas station and purchased water and peanut butter filled crackers. Combined with the apple and banana still in my room, the dinner was light but sufficed. I was very tired and was still battling the headache from the night before. I didn’t even do my exercises. 

Saturday, Oct 19th, 2013

After downing a full sized waffle drowned in maple syrup from the continental breakfast offerings, I packed up HD and we departed from Pensacola, FL. The plan was to head practically due west to Foley, AL, about 35 miles away. I was looking forward to a shorter ride, in a way, hoping to give me more time to fully recover from mold inhalation. As it turned out, the relaxed evening of the night before, without any significant exercise, and drinking water laced with vitamin C yesterday to help me recover--- all seemed to do the trick. I felt pretty good all day and I was relieved.

The Florida roads continued to offer a nice shoulder when on the highways, and made up for the lack of bike lanes in the cities by planting sidewalks. Cycling sidewalks is not as fun as riding on the street as HD feels every bump and crack. Therefore my skeleton feels them, too! Sidewalk riding is inherently bumpy and slow on a trike. But I am definitely amazed by what a beating HD takes every day. His tires and frame hold up well-- better than I do, that’s for sure!

Plans took a turn, though, as detours and bridge closures forced a southward deviation. I was routed down to the coast again, so I was given the opportunity to “ooh” and “ahh” over Perdido Key, Florida, and on into Orange and Gulf Shores, Alabama. Skyscraping condominiums blocked the view of ocean. Miles of condos. The streets were practically empty and I continued to wonder how such places in the country survive. The condos were pricey and were mostly inhabited by comfortable retirees. But I didn’t see a lot of cars in the parking lots.  There were some restaurants and a few hotels, but not even a lot of general shopping. Until I turned north on hwy 59 towards Foley. Then the shopping centers appeared. 

Aha---they live on the coast and shop inland.

Hwy 59 to Foley: It was 10 miles of "yucky" road. There is no better word to describe the way I felt about it! The tiny shoulder was interrupted with ribs, so it was a bumpy, bone rattling ride to Foley. The 35 mile day had become 50 miles with the detours, but it was all made better when I checked in to the Key West Inn in Foley, Alabama. This is a simple motel which I welcomed like an oasis. After exercise, a shower, and a delicious vegetarian pizza from Mellow Mushroom, all was right with the world. Or at least, MY world. 

Sunday, October 20, 2013

This morning, after perhaps one more mile on the dratted hwy 59, I turned west on hwy 98 and the angels sang again. The rest of the day, up until the Bay Bridge at Mobile, Alabama, I rode hwy 98/90 and the road was ever so sweet. 

The sun was shining, the road was wide, the grade was mild, and there was a mild headwind for part of the day. In all, it was a day in heaven.

On the westward road towards Mobile Bay, I stopped at a convenience store near Magnolia Springs. I met a young man and we chatted about the area. He is from Ohio but his mother lives down here in Alabama, so he moved here to help her out. He says that tourism is the industry that keeps the area alive. He said that in the tourist season, Hwy 59 to Gulf Shores is bumper to bumper traffic every day, moving incredibly slow. 

The local residents with whom I have had brief conversations over the last several days tell me the same thing. It is the tourism that keeps the towns afloat. The lodging located directly on the coast is fairly pricey, so families on a budget tend to choose motels a few miles inland, like I have been doing. 

One gentleman I met in the area works in Michigan about 6 months a year in a union construction type job. He is almost ready for retirement. He lives down here with his wife, who works in a hospital. He said that housing used to be very inexpensive along the Gulf Coast. While it is advertised as “The Emerald Coast”, and rightly so, due to the vivid turquoise waters on a sunny day, the locals refer to the area as “Redneck Riviera”. I had to laugh at that one. Anyway, after Hurricane Katrina decimated much of the coast, the houses that were still solid and standing, a bit inland, started selling for inflated prices. Seven hundred thousand people were homeless after that terrible storm! So the prices went up 3 times what they were worth. Construction moved in, building bigger and nicer homes, and these prices skyrocketed too. While one part of the population suffered, the rest of the population prospered. People from out of state moved into the coastal regions as the housing bubble expanded. Now, this man says, the bubble has burst and the prices are coming back down. 

It made me wonder again about those condominiums right next to the Gulf waters--waters that are known to get whipped up every year by tropical storms and hurricanes. How many of them were empty? Would they stand up to another hurricane as severe as  Katrina? What are these building standing on, in the way of secure foundations?  One local resident told me that the whole area is basically at sea level and if you dig down 18 inches you will hit saltwater. It is all sand. I can verify that. I have been looking for rocks on the beach and there aren’t any. Only this gorgeous, soft, white sand. 

How do these buildings stay erect? How deep do the foundations dive into the sand? How deep is the bedrock? I always wonder about bridges over the bays as well. They are such architectural masterpieces. 

I have been so lucky, or blessed (!), to pass over hundreds of bridges in good weather. No hurricanes, storms, or high winds!

Once I reached Spanish Fort, which is directly east of Mobile, on the other side of Mobile Bay, I caught hwy 90/16 and crossed the marshes, bayous, and waterways. If you check the map really close, you will see that the interstate crosses the bay on a very long bridge. The highway, however, crawls on a land mass that is basically at the same level as the water, plus maybe 5 feet! I cycled next to reeds through which you could see the water of Justins Bay, Chacaloochee Bay, and Polecat Bay. Great names, huh? This watery landmass was dotted with seafood shacks and boat docks. It was a Sunday today and you could tell which restaurants were the most popular by the number of cars pulling in and out. Some of the restaurants were on stilts or on the top floor of a two story building. Others were basically one level only. I wondered about flood insurance... 

There were no gas stations, convenience stores, or any other businesses---just the little seafood shacks and boatdocks.

I think that is wise...

Then I reached the decision point. Do I cycle the tunnel to Mobile or go out of my way to cross the Tensaw River via the Bay Bridge?  The Government Street Tunnel dives under the Tensaw, but cycles were prohibited. I had read about it earlier in the day when I stopped for coffee and asked google about it. “Crazy Guy On A Bike” has a website of the same name and cycles all over the country and keeps a blog. He had cycled the tunnel and mentioned that cars had to go around him to pass him while inside the tunnel. Since HD’s back end is much bigger than a standard bicycle, I figured I should obey the law and avoid ticking off a number of drivers, who would be stuck in a line of cars behind a recumbent trike moving along at 7 mph. So, I turned north to catch the bridge, which was about 3 miles north of the tunnel. I passed the industrial side of Mobile--it was actually good to see that industry was alive here. (Although I wish that these large corporations would paint these factory buildings some really vivid colors. Think of how much prettier that would be than the drab, gray buildings spouting smoke and steam?) 

Finally, I approached the Bay Bridge. The bridge is long and rather majestic looking as it starts in a northward direction and then curves west over the river. 

The bridge dropped me off in the north end of Mobile, or Pritchard. I turned south and saw a good cross section of Mobile, covering quite a span of housing. It was Sunday and the traffic was manageable and people were friendly, waving and calling out. It was just like any other big city throughout the country. 

In the downtown area, I stopped at a corner to look up local lodging on my iPhone. A large man, down on his luck, came up and asked me for a dollar, which I gave him. It was touching, really. He told me he was hungry and he only wanted a dollar because he could buy a burger down the street for that amount. As I passed him the dollar and then looked back at my phone, he asked me to look at him. I looked into his beautiful hazel eyes, a bit bloodshot around the rims, and he told me he would pray that God would bless me. I told him thank you and he said he was raised Catholic and he would light a candle for me. 

Here is what I took from this exchange. It is so important to look people in the eyes and let them know they matter. More important than the dollar is the sharing of eye contact between one human and another, accompanied by a blessing. I was touched to the core by this man, likely an alcoholic, who insisted I really look at him. Whatever our issues and challenges, we all need to be seen. 

Do you ever feel as if no one sees you? Sometimes we need a reminder...

I eventually made my way across town to the Baymont Inn, which was surprisingly inexpensive. After eating an apple and peanut butter and chocolate (hey, it’s what I had left!), and doing my exercise routine, I sat to write. Day is done. 

Monday, October 21st, 2013

This morning, after eating Raisin Bran and yoghurt in the lobby, I headed out of Mobile and hit the frontage roads off and on, paralleling hwy 90 out of Alabama and into Mississippi. I was cycling south, parallel to Mobile Bay, but far enough inland that I could no longer see the ocean. But I did see creeks, lakes, marshes, and bayous. Along the side of the highway, for several miles, the roadside ditch had filled with water and brave little water lilies had taken root in the runoff. I had to stop and take a photo of one of the flowers. It reminded me of the intrepid dandelions that insist on sprouting through the concrete in the desert, and the grass that insists on breaking through the cement in any industrialized big city. These little plants are hardy and brave and it reminds me that Nature is an indomitable force. If humans perished, the flora and fauna would quickly multiply and the world would be a jungle again. Except in the desert. There it just might be greener though, not exactly a “jungle”...or maybe the brown grasses would just be thicker!

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A note about the fauna of the south. Roadkill is the physical evidence of the prevalence of critters that are bigger than a breadbox. All through the country, I have seen raccoon and possum. In fact, the two are relatively equal in the roadkill department. In the northern and midwestern states, there were an awful lot of deer on the sides of the road, especially in Montana. Poor little kitties are laid out in the towns. Once HD and I reached North Carolina, I saw a new one: armadillo. So far, in the Florida panhandle and into Alabama, armadillos on the road outnumber possum and raccoon. I wish I saw live ones instead of car- flattened ones. 

The plethora of roadkill throughout the country continues to remind me that we drive killing machines. It is so easy to take a life with a motorized moving vehicle, including our own. Really, do we need to rush everywhere? It would be better to be late than to be dead. It would be better to yield than to crash.

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It was a delightful day with patchy sun, clouds, and light sprinkling in the mid afternoon. Altogether, it was a perfect day for cycling: not to hot, not too cold, with flat or gently rolling hills, and no wind worth mentioning. I passed into Mississippi and on to Pascagoula, turning west again. It was a short cycling day, so I only went about 42 miles to Gautier, MS, about 7 miles east of Pascagoula. I checked into a reasonable motel, the Suburban Extended Stay, arranging for a 2 night stay so I could write, check emails, do laundry, etc. I contacted family members, made arrangements with my daughter Shannon to join me, did my workout as well as my laundry, and ate a veggie burger at Burger King! They also have low fat fries. The lady who served me, Precious, was exceptionally generous with the low fat fries. I sucked up those salty babies dipped in ketchup like it was the Last Supper.  I had been eating fruit and crackers for a few days, other than the ridiculous waffle a few days ago. And that pizza in Foley, Alabama! No more waffles!! But I will pay the price of a bloated belly the day after eating pizza. I don't mind eating light for a few days after that type of feast. After a talk with Peter on the phone, I returned to this little MacBook to write again. And here I sit. Tomorrow morning I will edit and maybe even post this latest blog.