The weather was better today.
The world was still wet from the onslaught of rain yesterday, but the sun was at least trying to come out today. Since I went to bed so early last night, I was up before the entire rest of the time zone. I broke down camp and headed to the bathroom to charge my phone and finish drying my clothes with the hand-dryer. After a few campers coming to use the bathroom and seeing a beanpole standing with underwear near the dryer, I got my clothes and gear to "dry-enough," re-packed everything and waited for my phone to finish charging. Once the sun came up—about 60% battery—I began my journey for the day.
And as the day progressed it started turning more and more into the sunny Florida I know.
That all came with a trade-off though. A fifteen mile per hour head wind, aggressive traffic, and throngs of mindless, wandering pedestrians made today less than pleasant. Slowly, the amount of people wandering about in the sun rose as the sun crawled it’s way above the world’s head. More and more people began to crowd the sidewalks and shoulders, mouth agape looking at things. As I approached Panama City Beach, the crowd sizes began to reach a breaking-point. Throngs of people mindlessly blocking the pedestrian path or crossing the road without looking became a legitimate danger to the basic functioning of the city. People were EVERYWHERE. Even as I slowed down or moved away from the busy, downtown areas I was still dodging bodies. Drunk college students were buzzing around in rental mopeds causing cars to panic and sending them into the shoulder where I was riding. My head was on a swivel as I tried to keep an eye out for myself. I was only 250 pounds of man and bike going up against two tons of car, its panicked driver, and all the kinetic energy they possessed.
As if this stressful situation wasn't enough there was also the flat tire and broken headphones that added to the frustration. I'm not sure what number flat this is in Florida--somewhere between four and seven--but I do know that I have had far too many in this state. I quickly pulled over into a grassy area and began the process of repairing my tire. Just as I got into the flow, a group of wandering Spring Breakers stopped to talk to me. At this point, I was in a dilemma. These people weren't responsible for my frustration, and my trip was all about exposure and visibility so taking a few minutes and speaking with them wouldn't hurt; but I knew my mood was anything less than inviting and I was racing against the sun and didn’t know if I would win the race today. So I took a breath, sucked it up, and had a pleasant conversation about my trip with some strangers as I hurriedly repaired my tire. After only a few minutes and an attempt by this group of strangers to recruit me to their church, I was back on my way towards the Pacific. However, I had no campsite for the night.
As the sun began to sink towards the Gulf, I made calls to campgrounds and RV villages to find myself a place to sleep. All my calls ended with "I'm sorry we're full. It is Spring Break season hun/bud/sir. Good luck though." After the fifth failed call and the sun only forty minutes from setting, I decided it was time to deploy my last-resort tactic: stealth camping.
"Stealth camping" is fancy outdoor jargon for what is essentially homelessness and trespassing. It is simply camping in a location that does not allow camping. This can be out in the middle of nowhere, or in a city park behind the right grouping of rocks, or even in a campsite where you haven't paid. It is a technique that is controversial in the outdoor world, for good reason. Some people, like myself, see it as a last-resort option while others see it as a under-utilized method to cut down costs of camping. The philosophy I ascribe to allows it sparsely and only in times of necessity; the other mode of thinking deploys it frequently. Plenty of people out-right condemn the practice as the camper knowingly creates an unsafe situation for themselves, wildlife, emergency services, and owners of the property—valid concerns. Given the situation and location I was in though, I figured I could find a place that was plenty safe, hidden, and where I would be a nuisance to no one or anything.
As I biked down the highway I found a sign advertising a new suburb that would be going up in the Summer of this year. I biked in to a quiet clearing where a future cul-de-sac of $1.5+ million homes would be going. For now though, it laid bare and quiet, wrapped in the long boughs of tall pines, foundations of home without a home to sit upon it. I pushed Kona into the forest nearby until the thick underbrush made it impossible for me to be seen from the road. I quietly made camp as the last light of the day faded into the distance. Among the packed hotels, campgrounds full of RVs and tents, and bungalows filled with drunk college students I found a quiet, empty piece of land to borrow for the night.