epilogue

People have been asking some follow up questions, and I thought I'd go ahead and answer them.

Klaus is doing well. He rode through New Orleans instead of taking the ACA route and, other than the roads, loved the city with its variety of interesting people. He was able to stay with the Rowes in Ocean Springs, who graciously put him up for the night. He arrived in St. Augustine on the 22nd of November, then flew out of Jacksonville on November 25th. On the 27th he began traveling east from the coast of France. From there he pedaled all the way to his home in Germany, completing his circumnavigation of the globe. He was sick the last two days, but after almost a year on a bike and you're that close to finishing I don't think I'd stop, either.

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I received an email from Akira on the 5th of February. He said he had "only one windy day and heavy snow day," and that he arrived in Los Angeles after 50 days of riding. He wrote that most of the Americans he met were very kind to him, and that he was able to complete his trip because of those kindnesses.

People frequently ask me how much weight I lose on a trip like this. My answer has always the same: I think I GAIN weight because of the amount I eat.

However, on this trip, I really did lose a few pounds. When I started I weighed 168.2 pounds. Now I weigh 161.8 pounds, a 6.4-pound weight loss.

It's not a bad way to drop a few pounds. Considering the totals, that's a mere 428 miles per one pound lost. Or, if you'd prefer, a trifling 33 hours and 15 minutes of riding for each pound of ugly fat shed.

What a great diet.... and you can eat as much of anything you want!!

Here are the total of the totals, and average of the averages:

2737 miles
212 hours on the bike
60.8 miles a day
12.3 mph average (excluding rest days)

If you enjoyed reading about this trip you might also enjoy reading about my previous trip as well: www.markonabike.blogspot.com

Day Fifty Five: the last day, rails-to-trails, bob

Day Fifty Five. My last day of this trip.

Just as I've done on every one of my previous riding days, I systematically loaded up my bike. Always the same things, and always in the same order.

Today really couldn't be a better day for riding. The temperature is in the low 70s, and I have a strong tailwind.

Additionally, I found a Rails-to-Trails bike path that goes from Baldwin, which is about eight miles from my hotel, all the way into Jacksonville - about 18 miles. Rails-to-Trails bike paths are usually terrific to ride on. They're ex-railroad routes so they don't have any steep inclines or descents (as if there are any in Florida). They're usually covered by a canopy of trees and are well-maintained. Generally, they're a great place to ride, and this one was no exception.

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From mark on a bike 08 3

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After more than 2700 miles, I entered Jacksonville.

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And, looking at my saddle, it's just in time.

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And not just the saddle, there's also my

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Since it's a weekday there were very few bikers out this morning. Only one of them was going in the same direction as me.

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I think I startled him as I slowly glided by and said, "Good morning." He said hi, then noticed the loaded touring bike and asked the usual questions. I asked my questions as well.

His name is Bob Doughty. He's 67 and retired. Bob REALLY knows what to do after retirement. No rocking chair for him. Although he has a limited income, he manages to travel regularly and has been to Greece, Ireland, Argentina, and China. He owns a kayak and two bicycles - a mountain bike and a road bike. He uses both bikes and the kayak several times a week, not just to stay in shape, but also because he enjoys kayaking and biking.

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About ten years ago he took up ballroom dancing and met Lucille, his current girlfriend. He still dances regularly, and is an officer in his dance club.

Bob rides the MS150 every year, a charity ride for Multiple Sclerosis. It's a special ride for him because his wife died of MS.

Then, in his "spare" time, he takes classes at the University of Florida. When he learned that anyone over the age of 60 can audit classes for free he started taking a variety of courses. (and no exams!!) So far, his favorite classes have been a couple of Art History courses.

As we were riding we saw this guy crossing the path.

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Bob said he regualarly sees a variey of wildlife on this path, including deer, racoons, and even rattlesnakes on his rides.

We continued talking and rolling through Jacksonville on the bike path. When he learned about my plans for the next few days, he offered to take me and my bike to the bike shop. He also offered me his extra bed during my stay in Jacksonville, and a ride to the airport on Sunday.

And, as if that wasn't enough, he invited me to the local theater this evening. He and Lucille had planned to go and said they'd love to have me join them. (He called her up and said, "A friend of mine from Iowa just got into town. Can we get another ticket?")

We stopped at the grocery store on the way to his house, then he made me lunch while I took a shower. He washed my clothes while we ate. Before the bike shop closed we hauled my bike over there.

In the evening we went out for some seafood at one of the local cafes, then went to a play at Theater Jacksonville, the city's community theater.

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I met ONE person today, Bob. How appropriate and fitting an ending to my trip is it that he opened up his house for me? That's pretty much how it's been for the last two months. I said this last year after my trip, and I find it to be true after every bicycle trip I've ever taken: People are basically good... Wayne Pinkerton, Cecil, Klaus, Dave, the firefighters at Apache Junction, Don, Jim, the Rowes... and now Bob. My faith in humanity is always restored after traveling on a bike.

The end of a trip is always anticlimactic. There isn't a crowd cheering you as you cross the finish line, or a band playing in the background. You just roll to a stop.

And it's over.

Bob took a couple of pictures before we loaded our bikes into his car and, just like that, I was done.

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Someone I met on my trip, when he heard what I was doing, responded a lot differently than everyone else. Instead of saying, "Wow, that's a long way," he said, "Wow, that's a lot of thinking."

He's right. It is a lot of thinking. And what I've come to realize, thinking, is that I'm the luckiest person I know. I have a lot to be thankful for, my family, my health, my friends... and none of it is really anything I've worked for or earned. It's just dumb luck.

This trip has been more difficult than my previous ones. It's required more of my resources, both physically and emotionally. By the end of the day, it's sometimes hard to string together a complete sentence, much less compose a blog full of pithy aphorisms and enthralling narrative. But, the bones of the trip are there so hopefully you'll feel like you followed along in some sort of capacity. If you followed all the way through to the bitter end, way to go!! You've completed the reading/writing portion of the exam and can now take your own trip. Thanks for following along.


26.45 miles
14.1 average
22.5 maximum
1:52:03 time
2737.2 total

Day Fifty Four: planning the end, winding down, kid in a car

It's starting to seem odd that, after two months of riding, tomorrow will be my last day. I've been doing this for a long time, and you get into a rhythm. Waking up, packing, riding, eating.... Life is simple.

Most of my morning was spent planning. I have to find a place to stay tomorrow night (as well as tonight) and I need a good route to get there. Without the ACA maps, traveling through a city the size of Jacksonville can be dangerous. Maybe I should try I-10.

I also need to ship my bike back to Iowa, so I've been calling around looking for a bike shop that will box it up and mail it. Unless I find a place to stay that's close to the bike shop I'll need to rent a car. Once I drop off the bike (and it'll have to be tomorrow because everything is closed on Sunday), I'll be on foot. The car rental places close anywhere from noon to 3:00 on Saturday, so I'll need to take care of that early on unless I want to ride to the airport. (Perhaps I-10 goes there?) Depending on where I stay (and where I stay depends on how expensive), I might just be able to use a cab. Anyway, it's getting complicated, and NOT simple....

I'm also working on flying out earlier. I arrived in Jacksonville ahead of schedule, so I might be able to meet Heather in San Diego earlier than I had anticipated.

This morning I ate a full breakfast at the cafe before leaving, so it was around 10:00 when I finally left.

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My route took me through White Springs where I saw this house and sign.

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I also crossed the Suwanee river again.

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Then to Lake City, where I briefly stopped for a late-morning break.

It was overcast all day and I had a strong headwind until I turned east in Lake City. Pedaling against the wind, as much as I've been complaining about it, isn't really that bad. Or perhaps I'm already becoming nostalgic. I rode against it today, not exactly with a sense of resignation, but perhaps an acceptance - having come to terms with it. Whether it's the wind, the rain, the cold, the heat... (perhaps not the heat)... you just keep riding. Turn the crank around once, then turn it around again. It doesn't matter how strong the wind is, turning the crank gives you a certainty that you WILL get there. If the crank is turning, you're making progress. Like I said... life is simple.

Still, I wondered how my three friends were doing, pedaling 80 miles against that wind.

Besides, who am I to complain about the weather? Do you remember how it rained in Silver City on my rest day? And how it rained in Fort Stockton on my rest day? And how the Norther blew in two minutes after I closed my motel room door in Lockhart? And how it began raining thirty seconds after I finished riding in Greenville? And you may not know that in two days, shortly after I finish riding, a cold front is supposed to hit Florida and the temperature will get down to the low 30s.

I stopped for lunch in Olustee, but left earlier than I had planned when a couple of women fired up some cigarettes.

Sorry, one more picture of a tree. I think they're really beautiful.

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The rest of the afternoon was just pedaling and coming to terms with the fact that my trip is almost over.

Except when I was in MacClenny.

Occasionally, although much less frequently than you'd expect, someone will yell at me out the window of their car as they drive by. My usual response is to smile and give them a friendly wave, as if I misunderstood their intentions.

Today, as I was pedaling through the traffic in MacClenny, a young kid yelled out his passenger-side window, "RIDE ON THE SIDEWALK!" Unfortunately for him, the light ahead turned red and he was stuck in traffic.

I wasn't.

I breezed past all of the stopped cars and instead of going all the way to the front, I stopped right next to his window. By now he was feeling somewhat less vocal about his opinion of me RIDING on the sideWALK. I gathered as much because he had rolled up his window, and was now sitting with his hands folded in his lap and his face turned away from me. I thought about tapping on his window and talking to him, but instead I just pulled out my camera, took his picture, then pedaled away.

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52.15 miles
13.9 average
23.9 maximum
3:44:32 time
2710.8 total miles

Day Fifty Three: ray charles, paul/susan/hewes, suwanee river, dulcimer festival

This morning, in addition to having breakfast with Hewes, Susan, and Paul, there were two German couples at the table. They were here for an ophthalmology convention in Atlanta and were on their way to Orlando. Greenville isn't exactly on the way, but they'd read about Grace Manor so they took a little detour to come here.

Clockwise around the table: me, Peter, Andrea, Paul, Martina, Udo, Hewes, Susan.

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I learned that Greenville is where the singer Ray Charles spent the first seven years of his life, and where he went blind. It was surprising to me that there weren't huge signs advertising it. I didn't see anything entering the town, nor when I was online. I didn't even KNOW it until this morning.

Brenda told us about a memorial just around the corner, so we pedaled over to it on the way out of town.

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From mark on a bike 08 3

I rode with Paul most of the day, but also spent some time with Hewes and Susan. It's a sign of their character, all of them, that none of them would talk much about themselves. They would brag on each other, but not themselves.

Paul is a General Surgeon in Billings, Montana. He's been there most of his adult life, and was born and raised in Butte, Montana. Paul is the oldest of several children, and took care of them growing up. He still does. He was quite an accomplished athlete, winning the Montana Golden Gloves boxing title then going on to compete at the national level in Chicago.

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Of course, HE won't tell you any of this information. Paul will talk about his wife and children, and about Hewes and Susan.

There's one thing that impressed me personally. I know surgeons. They're very strong-willed, and when you get two of them together you're generally going to have two very strong opinions about what to do. None of them like to take a back seat to anyone else.

Paul, however, let Hewes make all of the decisions about the route and the accommodations. I KNOW it had to be difficult for him, yet he never said a word about it, and only had complimentary things to say. They've been friends for 35 years.

Paul had been thinking of retiring, but after taking a couple of months off for this trip, he's reconsidering... He's thinking that he's not quite ready to yet.

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Hewes is a retired cardiothoracic surgeon, a heart surgeon. When he first started practicing he did all kinds of surgeries, mainly because there was no one else to do them. As the practice became bigger he narrowed his field and only did heart surgery like he originally intended.

Hewes and Susan support the arts, and were instrumental in renovating an old theater in Billings.

Although this is Paul's first extended tour, it isn't Hewes' or Susan's. (although Susan is thinking it might be her last) Susan will tell you that Hewes practically glows when he's on a tour. He's never happier than when he's pedaling down the road on a loaded touring bike.

I talked to him later in the evening, and it's true. When I asked him about his first tour his eyes lit up as he told me the story about how, in 1969 he was doing some extra training as a resident in Cambridge and he and Susan spontaneously decided to rent some bikes and took off on their first bike trip. They had two very small children at the time. Like me on my first tour, and Akira on his, they didn't know what they were doing - they just went - and it was incredible.

They've been touring together all over the world ever since.

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All of this information I gleaned from the three of them as we pedaled down the road.

Speaking of which, to Paul, the scenery in East Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Western Florida all looks the same. He says you could blindfold him and drop him anyplace in one of those areas and he wouldn't be able to tell you where he was.

We crossed over the Suwanee river today, made famous by the Stephen Foster song, "Way Down Upon the Swanee River." Foster, who never actually SAW the Suwanee river, changed the spelling because he wanted a name with two syllables and was afraid people would mispronounce it if he left the "U" in it. Still, it's better than his original choice for the song title, "Way Down Upon the Peede River."

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From mark on a bike 08 3

Here are some pictures I took during the day.

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I can't believe these trees grew so regularly. It's almost as if someone planted them...

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Another magnificent tree. I love the huge oaks.

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Our stopping point for the night isn't actually a town, it's just an intersection with a hotel. It's a good thing we came tonight and not tomorrow night because for the next two days they're completely booked. Why?

A Dulcimer Festival. Not quite as bad as an Elvis Convention, and probably at least as interesting. I didn't even know there was more than one kind of dulcimer. I heard mention of two: the mountain dulcimer and the hammered dulcimer.

For dinner we walked across the street to the cafe where, for the first time, I ate alligator. The menu listed alligator tail as an appetizer so I thought I'd give it a try. Of course, it was fried, but I peeled off the batter and was able to get a good idea of the flavor. No, it doesn't really taste like chicken, and had a surprisingly good flavor and texture.

LOOKS like chicken, though...

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The food came in voluminous quantities, and I just kept eating and eating. When I was done I ordered a hand-scooped chocolate shake. After that, I bought some stuff to eat in the room for later.

Hewes borrowed my minicomputer to do some research for the ride tomorrow. They're going to be riding 80 miles to Gainesville; I'll be leaving the ACA route tomorrow for good and heading east towards Jacksonville.

I also showed him Skype and he was able to talk to Klaus using the webcam.

We all said goodbye and exchanged email addresses. They're going to get an early start. I have a shorter day so I'll sleep a bit later.

Like about three or four hours later.


58.90 miles
12.9 average
25.0 maximum
4:33:23 time
2658.6 total mileage

Day Fifty Two: breakfast, trooper, akira, grace manor

The breakfast room...

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This morning at the breakfast table I met the only other person staying at the inn. Her name is Jennifer and she's been here for four days.

Jennifer is originally from Quincy, and says that it hasn't changed a bit since the pre-1960s, much less since she graduated about twenty years ago. She's here for a funeral - one of her best friend's father died. Part of her perception of the lack of change is the fact that she heard a racist joke at the funeral. It didn't go over well with her and she said she "stared lasers at the guy." She let me know she voted for Obama within the first sixty seconds of our introductions. When Stuart came into the room it was less than sixty seconds before he knew.

Stuart didn't vote for Obama, and when he told his reasons why, she got very quiet and the conversation died rapidly.

Currently, she's living in Reston, Virginia, and really likes it. Coming back is difficult for her. I partly gathered this by the fact that yesterday when Stuart first showed me the large decanter of cognac it was half full. Later, at bedtime, it was almost completely empty. Of course, coming to Quincy may not be the only emotionally difficult thing for her. She could also have stressors in Virginia which cause her to drink heavily, such as turning off the alarm clock in the morning or running out of toothpaste.

I didn't take her picture because I didn't think she'd appreciate it. After all, it WAS morning, and she did look a little hungover.

Also during breakfast, before the conversation turned political, I learned that this area had a lot of money until the 1970s. It thrived during the tobacco industry's heyday by growing "shade tobacco." When a farmer grows shade tobacco, he covers the field with cheesecloth so the plants grow in a diffuse light. This prevents the leaves from developing veins and they can then be used for wrapping cigars.

I left Quincy about 9:00 and took Highway 90 instead of the ACA route, trimmming yet another two or three miles off the total to Jacksonville. There wasn't a shoulder for the first four or five miles, but it was a divided four lane highway.

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At Midway I got on I-10. I only needed to be on it for about 6-8 miles until it crossed Highway 90 again. I didn't really want to ride on the interstate, but I thought traveling through Tallahassee on 90 would be worse. I-10 at least has a wide shoulder. In some places bicyclists aren't allowed on the interstate, so I checked carefully before entering... no sign. Once on it, I rode hard. I wanted to get off the interstate as soon as possible.

Apparently, the Florida State Police wanted me off even sooner than that.

After about four miles a state trooper stopped his car in front of me, got out and stood behind his car waiting for me to pull up. His hands were clasped in front of him, one on top of the other, just below his waist. His legs were spread slightly wider than his shoulders.

No mirrored sunglasses - that's a good sign. Maybe I won't be stuck in the slammer with Bubba after all.

I thought about taking a picture but didn't want to reach into my handlebar bag while I'm heading straight for a guy with a gun.

He looked like he was about 22, with short reddish-blonde hair and only a hint of a Southern accent. When he told me I wasn't allowed on the interstate it sounded like he was reading from a textbook, "This is a limited access byway. Pedestrians and pedicycles (he actually used that word) are prohibited. You will need to take the next exit, after which you may take any road." He also said, "We've received several calls about you." Probably the same people who saw me running toward the railroad tracks in Texas.

Before leaving he thanked me, and called me "Sir."

I took the next exit, pulled over and got out my new computer to look at a map of Tallahassee. (I stopped at a convenience store and could've simply gone inside to look at a map, but I used the computer because I COULD) Scrutinizing the map, I saw that there were no roads parallel to I-10. All of the roads leave the downtown area like spokes on a wagon wheel. The only way I'll able to get to Highway 90 now is if I ride all the way downtown.

So, I'll ride downtown.

Just before I left a guy walked out of the convenience store, lit a cigarette, and asked where I started. He told me he was trying to get to Fort Myers, where a buddy of his might have a job for him. He also said that he was traveling even lighter than me, then pointed to the rolled-up blanket near the door. "I was in the park the other day, sleeping, and when I woke up, someone had taken all my stuff. I had a tent and clothes and about 280 bucks." I told him that really sucked. "Yeah, I had about five bucks left after that, so I used it to get drunk. I was pretty wasted when they rolled me in the park."

I kept waiting for him to ask me for some money but he never did. He just walked away with a "Take care, L'il Bro." Fifteen seconds later he was talking to someone else, and thirty seconds after that I saw him climbing into the passenger seat of the guy's truck and heading north.

When I got back on the bike and started pedaling south down Monroe Street toward downtown I realized how much safer it was on I-10. Monroe is an awful road with no shoulder and a lot more traffic than there was on the interstate. This is one of the better sections of the road - one where I at least felt safe enough to pull over and snap a picture.

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I negotiated my way to 90 and turned east. It was about lunch time so I pulled in to a random breakfast/lunch place. After I stopped, I noticed another touring bike leaning against the side of the building. That's REALLY coincidental - I'm not on the ACA route. And what kind of idiot would be riding on this road anyway???

I went in and sat down next to a young Asian guy. His English was very halting, and he had to look up basic words on a regular basis. Communicating was slow going, and we used a lot of hand gestures.

Over the next hour I learned that he's from Japan. His name is Akira Matsuoka. He's 22 years old and will be graduating from college in April 2009 with a degree in International Politics (I think). He already has a job lined up with an oil company and will be working in either Singapore or Houston. He added that in Japan most people who finish college don't work in their fields of study. (Or at least that's what I THINK he said, and it wasn't in those words.) He flew into Jacksonville four days ago and plans to bicycle to San Diego.

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I wondered how in the world he was going to make it all the way across the country not being able to speak English very well, or understand it.

Then I learned that he's doing it without the benefit of the ACA maps. He'd never even heard of the Adventure Cycling Association... he just bought a map of the Southeastern United States and was working his way across. (Not even a Florida map, just the Southeastern USA) I REALLY wondered how he was going to make it without speaking the language, and with a poor set of maps.

Then I learned that he doesn't have a tent, and has been sleeping outside. OH MY GOD!! When I asked him how he manages to do that, he said, "I endure."

Okay Klaus, this guy is making you and me look like 12-year-old girls. Soft.

Our waiter, Marcus, bought our lunch today. He said that since we're biking all the way across the country, it's the least he can do. Erin, also pictured, was a waitress.

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Interestingly, Akira met Joe and Robin a few days ago. Small world.

I gave him six of my seven ACA maps, keeping the one I'm using now. I won't be needing them, and I know he could sure use them.

Eventually, it was time to get back on the road. I thought of his inability to speak English, the mountains we had crossed which were cold then and will by now have snow on them, of his lack of gear... I hated leaving - I felt like I was abandoning him to his fate. The guy doesn't know ANYthing.

He reminds me of a guy I know who took a trip in 1982. It was his first trip, too, and he didn't know anything, either. If you want to see where he went, just look at the red dots on the top right of this page.

We said our goodbyes and I asked him to email me when he got a chance.

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I saw my first alligator today. It was about a foot long and about five inches wide. Unfortunately, it was only about the height of three sheets of typing paper, and had tire marks on its back.

Highway 90 wasn't a great place to ride. No shoulders and too many cars.

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I got back on the ACA route in Monticello. Adventure Cycling has done a lot of research on these routes. When I get off the route, it's almost always a bad road... no shoulder, lots of traffic, etc. Back on the route, I had everything but a tailwind. Hmmmm, maybe I should write to them....

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From mark on a bike 08 3

From mark on a bike 08 3

This is a picture of a house which has been overgrown with kudzu, a "pest weed." Kudzu was brought into the US from Japan. The Soil Conservation Service encouraged farmers to plant it in order to help prevent erosion. Climate conditions are perfect for it in the south and, since it has no natural predators, it began growing rampantly.

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Lost cropland and controlling the growth costs about 500 million dollars annually.


Uhhh, I don't know... I just took the picture.

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As I was riding into Greenville, my stop for the night, a guy started chasing me and yelling for me to stop. He had been standing in a crowd with four or five other guys on the other side of the street. The one sprinting towards me was a black guy of about twenty, and his pants were hanging so low that apparently the only way he could keep them up was by holding them up by the crotch.

He asked me where I started, where I was going, then asked for some water from my water bottle. "Mmmm, that's DAMN fine water." I got the bottle back, took a drink and agreed. He asked for another drink and repeated his comment on the fine quality of the water. I concurred. We're quite the converstionalists. Then he asked me for money. When I said no, our stimulating intellectual conversation ended and he took off.

Two blocks later I pulled my bicycle onto the porch of the only place to stay in Greenville. Thirty seconds later it was raining.

In other parts of the country, when there's a twenty percent chance of rain it means that, given the current weather conditions, it's rained two times in the last ten. I'm starting to learn that in Florida, a twenty chance of rain means it's going to rain twenty percent of the day.

The only place to stay in Greenville is the Grace Manor Inn, a Bed & Breakfast.

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I don't know if it's because I'm on a bike, because people feel sorry for the dumb guy, or if it's just the off season, but I've been getting discounted rates at almost every place I've stayed.

At the inn, I was surprised to find Hewes, Susan, and Paul. Yesterday was a short day for them, having pedaled from Quincy to Tallahassee. They followed the ACA route today, taking them a roundabout sixty miles to get here.

We had a nice supper together, cooked by our host, Brenda Graham.

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Brenda is originally from Kentucky. She got tired of corporate life and decided to "retire" to South Carolina or Florida. After doing some online research, she found this place. When she drove down and saw it, she immediately fell in love with it. She and her husband bought it four years ago. She was all set to live happily ever after.

Two years after they bought it, her husband died.

Since then, she's been running it on her own... the repairs, the billing, the cooking, the whiny visitors. It's been a lot of work, an ENORMOUS amount for one person, but so far she still loves it. She likes the pace of living in a small town, and the townspeople have adopted her.

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I'll be riding with Hewes, Susan, and Paul tomorrow so I went to bed early knowing they'll want to leave early.

I drifted off wondering where Akira was sleeping tonight.

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66.69 miles
13.3 average
29.7 maximum
4:58:57 time
2599.7 total