Everything Connected

Riding Day 33 – 86.48 miles

Everybody was awake and moving this morning by 6:30. We we’re staying in the Navy Lodge at Naval Air Station Pensacola, and after taking full advantage of the free breakfast, we packed up our belongings and drove 30 miles back to Gulf Shores to our ending point from the previous day. The torrential rains had ceased in the middle of the night, and the sun was already warming the air and causing steam to rise from the ground.

Hank had spent the night hanging on the bike rack and getting pummeled, and I made sure to clean and oil his chains before we started riding. Bicycle chains are the heart and soul of the drive train, and being a tandem, Hank requires two chains, one in the rear and one that links the two sets of pedals to each other. Hank’s rear chain is in good shape, but the front chain is showing a lot of wear and tear, and with 420 miles still to go, I’m doing my best to keep everything working. The rear chain, if it breaks, is a relatively easy fix that I can do myself. The front chain, without going into an in-depth discussion of bottom brackets and counter-centered hubs, would require a bike mechanic with tandem repair experience. Not sure that person exists in the panhandle of Florida, and I don’t want to have to find out if they do.

The first 30 miles of the ride were along the beachfront leading to Pensacola. There was a ton of construction everywhere, souvenir shops on every block painted in gaudy, eye-catching colors, people walking off their hangovers in the bike lane, bikes going the wrong way in the bike lane, cars driving partially in the bike lane, people talking on their cellphones and not paying attention in the bike lane…it felt like Odie and I, on a bike and going in the correct direction, were the anomaly instead of the other way around. So, after three days of traveling through various beach communities in Mississippi, Alabama and now Florida, I can unequivocally state that I’m not a fan of beach communities in this part of the country. Too much hustle, a whole lot of bustle, but very little soul.

Once we got out of Pensacola, we turned onto Highway 90 yet again and rode along the water for several miles. I was surprised at how many hills there were, although they were nothing compared to those of the Texas Hill Country. But I have always thought of Florida as being quite flat, so this was a revelation and a welcome distraction after so many miles of flat roads. There were nice stretches that wound through clumps of well-manicured homes with sprawling green lawns, though I never saw anyone outside of these homes enjoying what was a spectacular day. And I wondered, “Why have a beautiful yard in such a gorgeous place which spectacular views, if you don’t get out there and enjoy it to the fullest?”

The first week or so of this journey were challenging for Odie and I in regards to riding Hank and getting comfortable. Certain situations in those early days were anxiety producing affairs that had me barking commands at Odie like a drill sergeant. Good communication between us is vital of course, but early on I was often over the top with many things. Thank goodness Odie is mostly a sea of calm when I’m in tempest-mode. I still have my moments, but today I became acutely aware of how comfortable we’ve become after so much time spent on Hank’s saddles. As we powered uphill, I’d leave Hank in a higher gear than I would have in the early stages because our legs are stronger, and our physical coordination is wholly linked at this point. And then as we’d pass the hill’s crest and begin the descent, I’d rise and stand in the pedals and revel in the rush of wind as our speed would pass 30mph. Odie would simply chill and remain seated while I stood, Hank solid and stoic beneath us, and it felt perfect and free as we flew into the flats, eager for the next hill. We’re at the point where we don’t verbalize these moments, no need to telegraph the next move because it’s already known by each of us. For better or for worse, we have moved beyond trust and into that next realm where thought is all that’s required to achieve the flow.

Tonight, we have a sweet camping spot at Blackwater River State Park just north of Holt, FL. Odie and The Bob, per the usual, are already tucked in for the night, and I’ll soon be joining them. Tomorrow’s ride will put us somewhere under 400 miles remaining, which seems implausible. How can it be that we’re in Florida, having arrived via a 30-year-old bicycle???? And yet that’s exactly how we got here, with more than a little assistance from The Bob. Maybe it’s all a dream, this ride, you, me, everything connected to nothing at all…and maybe it’s not, but who among us can really say for sure….