I was awoken to Michelle's kids wanting to take a photo with me. By "awoken" I mean scared awake. Now, as a grown man that was in minimal clothing, this was an awkward beginning to my day. The kids, Michelle informed me, were chronically late to school so I had no option but to take the photo half-propped up and half-awake in bed.
I'm sure I'm on some list somewhere for this post.
After getting ready and saying my final thank yous and goodbyes to Michelle, I began my ride. I crossed through Navarre Beach, a federally protected shoreline of white sand dunes, and was shocked by the beauty and quiet of the dunes.
The roads were gorgeous. They were fresh, smooth, and had a large bike lane and, best of all, it was a Sunday and there was no traffic. I was able to relax a bit and do what I do best: belting out the chorus to some Disney songs in the same key as a dying cat. As Kona and I pointed straight West, the winds shifted and swung to push me on my back. I shifted down and spooled up to a comfortable twenty miles per hour as I began to truly enjoy the ride. For the first time on the trip, I no longer felt like I was struggling. I was no longer going to be dealing with Spring Breakers. I was no longer struggling with wind. My bike was running smoothly, and I was finally getting into a good rhythm of riding, eating, and camping over and over. Now with a solid tailwind, I began to feel like my ride was turning into a race to the Pacific; And I felt like I was in first.
The quick jaunt through Navarre Beach set a good tone and pace for me to tackle the rest of my ride. I crossed back over to the mainland and kept my legs spinning as I lazily listened to podcasts under a warm, sunny day. Throughout the day I maintained a tight twenty miles per hour as Kona and I felt like a well-oiled machine as we crossed out first major milestones, back-to-back.
I, Joshua Rivard, have finally left Florida. I also have accumulated over 1,000 miles of cycling on this trip thus far. Mainly I'm excited to be out of Florida. After some roadside, rubber-legged dancing just across the river that separated Alabama and Florida, I sprinted hard to Foley to celebrate properly. Using the app Warm Showers--an app that connects touring cyclists with people who will house them for free--I found Justin. Justin had hosted many people before and had his number listed on his profile. After a quick text, I was invited to stay and make myself at home at his place. I graciously took up room on his futon and showered up while he was at work. When he came home him and I talked over beers and he told me about the history of that region of Alabama. He enthusiastically told me about Alabama's incredible biodiversity, his musings on the climate of the cycling market, and how he was spearheading grassroots campaigns that were getting bicycle paths put up all over Alabama. A conversation wit him was a reminder that even average folks, struggling to get by, love this country and want to right by it. Justin's passions seemed to almost explode out of him.
Eventually, somewhere between seven and eight beers and some jokes I collapsed into sleep. I knew the next morning would be a little rough from the beer, but Justin was just so interesting and knowledgeable on the local flavor, not to mention his generosity, that we got lost in friendly conversation. Honestly, I think it was worth it.
People like Justin keep the world moving. I hope I can repay him some day, despite his determination I don't.