Day 13 – The Big Sneak

Sunday, November 2nd

Monticello, FL to High Springs, FL

On our way out this morning, we had a chat with the Brahman motel owner, Mr. Patel.  He was excited by our trip – a lot of cyclists stay at his motel, so he was happy to have us – and we got onto the topic of health.  He told us about how he spent most of his life without going to the hospital or visiting a physician.  The first time he had to was in December of 2005 when his appendix burst.  Since he didn’t know what was going on he waited for five days to see a doctor.  They figured out what was wrong, told him he should have died three days ago, then rushed him to the hospital.  Now, he’s up and running a motel, lively as ever.

We rode out of Monticello on 90, and amazingly 90 East of the town didn’t have any hills (or only a few tiny ones).  We took off, with Dad drafting me, and averaged 18 mph.  It was a beautiful morning (I know you’re getting tired of hearing that, but it’s true.  Really gorgeous.  A whole interesting light show with the sun rising in the sky through the clouds and the cheery blue sky chilling in the background.  I spend way too much time indoors when I’m at home so I really have to enjoy this.), and just as I was really beginning to miss the cows (you know you were too), we passed several huge pastures.  Like the Louisiana cows who have witnessed Katrina and other awe-inspiring events, these Florida cows have probably seen several shuttle launches, so they’re not phased by much, including us.  Some raised their heads, but did so unalarmed.

We did however, spook a dog.  He was scavenging to the right side of the road and spied us at about 15 yards.  His eyes popped wide open and he dropped his lunch then took off running in our direction, but away from the road.  We thought he might be coming for us, but he made a wide arc, redirecting his path 180 degrees and started running at the road maybe 20 yards in front of us.  Thinking he was going to chase us, I slowed a bit, but then he tore across the road, ran parallel to it for a bit, the jetted off to the left, scared for his life.  I think we really freaked him out.  He had to run and tell his mom about the UFOs he witnessed.

We stopped at 30 miles to grab some food and supplies from a grocery store in Madison.  Back on the road we were cranking at full effort, but our progress kept slowing, little by little.  We battled a few hills, but nothing like yesterday, and still we slowed more and more and more.  One perk of the stretch was that we saw a street named French Fries.  (My other favorites from the trip: Logan’s Run, outside of Milton and Tut Blades back in Louisiana or Mississippi).

At around 60 miles, we pulled into the outskirts of Live Oak and stopped at a gas station.  I was exhausted and had to pee and Dad was looking completely drained.  We thought maybe we weren’t getting enough energy through our food, so we grabbed some more to eat and rested while the batteries charged.

After about 50 minutes of resting and watching some odd characters come and go around the station, we returned to the ride and pushed along with rapidly decreasing energy.  Ten miles down the road, we arrived at our turnoff.  I almost stopped for another break, but instead, just turned the corner to head South on CR 137, thinking, “Keep going, keep going.”

I didn’t even notice at first, but when I finally looked up from my concentration, Dad had rocketed half a mile down the road.  Turns out we had been fighting a 20-25 mph headwind that was so steady, we didn’t even recognize its strength.  It had been gradually increasing the whole time we were on 90, sneakily sucking away our power.  When we made the turn onto 137, the same power we were using to go 16 mph along the last strech of 90 took us up over 20 mph on 137.  I was scooting along at 22-24 mph and Dad just took off, zooming at 25-30 mph along the whole stretch of 137; 20 miles over flat ground and hills.  I had to gun the motor just to keep him in sight.

Down one stretch of 137, we passed about a dozed white, hand-painted signs talking about Hatch.  “Hatch Has To Go,”  “Vote Hatch Out,”  “Tired of Hatch?”, etc.  This was all a rural neighborhood and most of the signs were near the driveways to farm houses, but one was placed on the front end of a pasture and had a horse standing next to it as we rode up.  He looked very sincere about standing beside that sign.  That horse wants you to know: “Don’t Vote For Hatch!”

By the time we reached our turn to join up with 27, we both were reinvigorated and entertaining the notion of adding another 20 miles to the day’s ride to make it to Gainsville instead of just to High Springs.  However, on 27, the headwind found us again.  When we reached High Springs and couldn’t conveniently make reservations in Gainsville, we decided to call it a day.

We got a room at the Cadillac Motel,

did some laundry, and grabbed dinner supplies from a nearby gas station.  Now, soup, potatoes and peaches later, we are ready for bed.

Today’s Quick Stats:

Bike              Distance (mi)    Average Speed (mph)

MiniWini           108.84                   19.1

Sti(ck/g)          108.35                  19.0

Stampedes: 2

Roadside Pees: 1

Things too ubiquitous to tally:  roadkill, small churches, McCain/Palin posters

For those who are wondering:

Number of Obama posters seen:
- from East of San Antonio, TX to West of Chattahoochee, FL: less than 15
- from Chattachoochee, FL to High Springs, FL: over 30

Most entertaining campaign poster:

- Katheryn RICH for Tax Collector  (that’s just asking for trouble)