So, I said farewell to Taryn this morning as a see you again soon, because I'll be coming right back in less than a week. Just as I said I would, I biked straight back the way I came to get back onto A1A. It was still stressful, but better on a Sunday morning than a Saturday afternoon. Back on A1A I once again saw many cyclists, though not as many as yesterday, lovely scenery, and lots of beaches. There was the looks of a storm brewing, but it only brought me wind, no rain. Just to make sure I didn't feel too safe on my nice bike lane, a passing cyclist, after asking about my tour, followed by asking if I wanted to know the statistic. He told me what I of course knew, that Florida has the highest rate of bicycle fatalities in the country, then followed by telling me that Broward County has the highest rate in Florida, and Broward county is the county we were in. Just what I needed to hear to start my day.
It was fine though. I had no trouble. The route got a little confusing after going back to the mainland past Fort Lauderdale Beach, winding around the airport, but I just followed other cyclists who knew the way. At Dania Beach it was back onto that narrow strip of land between river and ocean. But it was less fun than yesterday. The further south I got, the bike lane dried up, and with it, most the cyclists. I had gotten into an area where people, on a whole, were no longer out biking just for fun, only because they had to if they were to get where they were going.
I contemplated going down to Miami Beach, but Google didn't want me going that way, and I tended to agree. I took Alton Road as it instructed. Then next I knew, found myself on a bridge...on the interstate. I was worried as heck for a moment that Google had steered me wrong, since the interstate tends to be completely illegal out East. But then, sure enough, I saw a white bicyclist painted on the shoulder, indicating that this stretch of interstate shoulder was treated as a bike lane. I was treated to a gorgeous view of both where I had come from and of downtown Miami ahead. I wish I'd felt comfortable stopping to take pictures.
Things expectantly got a little messy going into Miami. But there wasn't terribly much street riding before I came to the M Path, which Google pronounces like empath, and it made me laugh. It follows underneath the metrorail. It's winding, sometimes hard to follow, full of jarring cracks and bumps thanks to trees, offers little to see but the underside of the rail, and forces you to stop at one crosswalk after another in the middle of streets. I hated it. All I wanted was a good bike lane, and that seemed unavailable. Biking the M Path and constantly waiting at one crosswalk after another quickly wore on me and put me in a bad mood. I kept thinking I must be hearing the end of the urbanity, and there was always more. As the path under the monorail eventually terminated, after taking me through the metro station where I was instructed to walk, it turned into a path paralleling the busway, less bumpy, also less shaded, still nothing to see, and still one crosswalk light to wait on after another. I got into a really foul mood, upset at the heat, the urban nonsense, my inability to find anyone to put me up in the Keys, all of it.
Until I came into convenience store, desperate to take a piss, and what sound came to my ears but "Don't worry, be happy." Somehow it was just what I needed, a reminder that it's all about attitude and frame of mind. I biked the rest of the way just as hot and with all the same troubles, but in a much better mood.
And I arrived at my host's for tonight around 4ish. It's an organic farm, and in the cooler parts of the year, a B&B. It's a taste of tropical paradise, perfect if not for all the mosquitoes. She picked up fresh mangoes from where they had fallen, and later showed me the right way to cut and eat them, still warm from the sun. She showed me where I could camp and the teepee I could sleep in if I didn't mind the heat, the outdoor shower, outdoor kitchen, and as she felt most important, the natural pool. It was a good evening and a reaffirmation of why I do this. In the course of talking with my host, she said many things that that really resonated with me. She discussed the difference between vacationing and traveling, how the traveler actually experiences a place, how they live in the moment and don't plan everything out with an itinerary, and how in the act of experiencing a place tend to know the goodness of people and are less fearful, less worried. She reminded me of my early days touring, as she talked about getting around Europe on a cheap folding Schwinn, and how I got by and had fun while in much harder positions. And most of all, she told me how she doesn't like reading blogs of tourists talking about how much they suffer. If they're suffering, why do it? You don't get a medal for suffering. If anything, the medal, the reward, is for doing it and having a good time. ...Yep. Very much a lesson I needed reminded of with the attitude I've been having about getting to Key West and getting done. It always seems that somehow or another while I'm traveling, something or someone comes along to tell me just what I need to hear to get me back to the headspace I ought to be in. The little miracles of the road, those pieces of paradise you find...even if full of mosquitoes.
No comments:
Post a Comment