Search results for: “british columbia”

Wayback Machine

AUG MAY JUN
Previous capture 11 Next capture
2007 2009 2010
8 captures
21 Mar 06 – 11 May 09
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos Sebring, FL to Key West, FL Stage Back

(via Highways 27, 997, 905A, 905, 1 along with LOST Trail)

October 23, 2004

One hour before sunrise, we pulled on our yellow, sleeveless jackets and started pedaling our loaded tandem south on Highway 27. A few blocks from our motel, we stopped at a restaurant for breakfast. For the next 50 plus miles, we knew of only two service stops. One was 13 miles out and the other was 40 miles beyond that. A big meal to start our day was imperative. Following breakfast, we watched as two men were checking out our parked rig. One of them had never seen a two-seat bicycle before so his friend, an apparent cyclist, described the features to him. In commenting on our setup, the cyclist told his friend, “From the amount of gear they have, I’d say they’re traveling unsupported.”

With the pre-dawn sky displaying some brilliant colors, we advanced south. Highway 27 continued to be a divided, four lane road with a three to four foot shoulder. Highlands County was naturally named for the local terrain. The rolling hills were gentle, giving us a slight workout. For the past 50 miles we had been riding across a series of sand hills referred to as the Lake Wales Ridge. Because these remnants of ancient shoreline dunes were isolated long ago by water, there are numerous endangered plants and animals in the area. Sometimes called Florida’s attic, the ridge has several species found nowhere else on earth.

As we biked up and down the moderate slopes, we occasionally passed by some orange groves. The well-drained sand hills provide the desired setting for citrus farming. Unfortunately, housing developments also find the deep sand attractive as well. In those areas left untouched, the scrubland was covered with low lying shrubs mixed with grasses and herbs. Some of the plants appeared to be like the sage brush that we had seen in southwestern USA. Although the area absorbs 50 inches of rain most years, it was like we were pedaling through a tropical desert. Because only 15 percent of the original habitat remains, the state is putting together tracts of refuge to preserve the scrubland.

The number of vehicles sharing the road with us was quite low compared to previous days. We weren’t sure if the lighter traffic was due to the weekend setting or the remoteness of the area. Whatever the case, it was a welcomed change. After pedaling mostly southeast for an hour, we could see Lake June-In-Winter on our right. We were now at the outskirts of Lake Placid, a small community of 1,700. As the highway bent around to the south, we climbed up a four to five percent grade for nearly a half mile. Little did we know that this would be the last hill on our AK to FL tour.

Entering town, the 270 FT Placid Tower initially captured our attention. An elevator ride to the observation deck gives visitors a view of the area’s 27 lakes. A sign near the tower proclaimed Lake Placid as a “Town of Murals.” Having had our share of ups and downs on the region’s sand hills, we passed by the tower and turned west onto Interlake Boulevard to check out the paintings. Before reaching our first mural, we had a sense that this town was going to be special. The streets were lined with palm trees and USA flags. Even the trash containers had colorful themes. Inspired by the wall paintings of Chemainus, British Columbia, the first mural was completed in 1993. There are now 37 colorful and historical displays.

One block into town, we viewed an everglades scene with a family riding an airboat. The artist did a superb job as the boat looked like it was flying out of the building and onto the street. We then passed by a red brick building with the sign, “Toby’s Clown School.” With nearly 500 clown graduates since 1993, Lake Placid claims to have more clowns per capita than any other town in Florida. The founder of the school (a clown by trade) hopes to build a Clown College on nearby property.

The next mural we saw was on a building owned by South Florida Community College. The painting depicted a distinguished-looking gentleman named Dr. Melvil Dewey. Dewey, at age 21, created the Dewey Decimal System. In 1895, he built a summer resort for his wealthy friends in Lake Placid, NY. Three decades later, he discovered this Florida community and proceeded to develop a winter resort for his affluent companions. In 1927, he convinced the state legislature to change the town’s name from Lake Stearns to Lake Placid. Although Dewey died four years later, his legacy lives on.

In the next block, the 60 FT by 30 FT wall of a car repair shop displayed a field of caladiums. A caladium, also called elephant ear, is a colorful plant that has large, arrowhead-shaped leaves marked in varying patterns of white, pink and red. With 1,500 acres of the ornamental plants grown in local fields, Lake Placid bills itself as the “Caladium Capitol of the World.” Imported from the Amazon River Valley of South America a half century ago, 95 percent of the world’s caladiums now grow here. The area’s fields of rainbow colors are said to rival the tulip fields of Skagit Valley in Washington.

As we continued into the center of town, we passed by several more murals covering interesting aspects of the town’s history. From pre-historic times to the introduction of the telephone, it seemed that they exhibited every tidbit of the past. Three of the murals were programmed to come alive with realistic sound effects. Nested between two painted walls was a nicely landscaped area with a goldfish pond. An older lady, wearing a blouse sprinkled with hearts, was tossing bread crumbs to the fish. Having completed our virtual journey through the local history, we biked back to Highway 27. Along with Winter Garden, we rated Lake Placid a must-see community in Florida.

Because the next opportunity for services was a long ways away, we stopped at a McDonald’s Restaurant before leaving town. Following a small breakfast, we continued south down the four-lane highway passing by some of the area’s small lakes. The pristine bodies of water are popular for recreational pursuits and fishing. Due to their remoteness, these lakes have not experienced the water quality problems seen elsewhere in the state. Bass tournament weigh-ins regularly measure fish over eighteen inches long and weighing over six pounds. Catching a large mouth bass that weighs nine pounds or more is not uncommon.

About six miles south of Lake Placid, we were again flabbergasted to see a highway sign warning of bear crossings. This sign indicated that the bear zone would be for the next twelve miles. We continued to carry our bear pepper spray within easy reach but we didn’t expect to see any bears. With the berries, acorns and honeybee nests that are available in the scrublands, this must be paradise for the black, furry critters. They are probably plump and healthy.

Like Polk County, Highlands has substantial agricultural interests. In addition to citrus farming, there are over a 100,000 cattle grazing in the county’s pastures. Among the miles of cows we biked by, we saw a number of Brahman and other exotic breeds that fare better in the warmer climate. Occasionally, we would see a field of round bales covered with white plastic. Because of the higher humidity, the bales are wrapped to minimize spoilage. From our vantage point, the fields looked like cookie sheets covered with spongy marshmallows.

After starting out as a dreary, overcast morning, the clouds dissipated leaving us with a brilliant, blue sky. The terrain went from rolling hills to flat and then to very flat. Oh, life is good! Before departing the county, we saw an isolated sand dune along the side of the road. The sandy hills we rode on earlier were rarely exposed because of vegetation. This dune had little grass cover and the eye-catching sand was so white, it looked like snow. Once we got through the bear zone, we pedaled into Glades County. The highway sign marking the county line impressed us with its double post mounting with angle-iron. It would take a pretty strong hurricane to knock that one over.

As we cycled down the super flat highway, we noticed that we weren’t seeing many vehicles. We could bike five miles without any motorists passing us. With a county population of only 10,000, we had plenty of room to spread our elbows. The highway was so quiet, that critters would sunbathe on it. Randall noted to Barb that there was some debris in the road ahead, a black segment of rope, perhaps. Barb surmised that it was a strip of tire rubber. When we reached the black object, we were startled to find that it was a four foot long snake.

Passing the snake on the right side, we awoke the wiry reptile from its late morning slumber. In sleek fashion, the slippery critter zipped at near lightening speed to the drainage ditch where it disappeared in the grass. Even though we were coasting along at 10 mph, the snake managed to dash between our tandem wheels without contact. The fleeing episode was a bit too close for Barb’s comfort. From the slender, satiny appearance, we suspected the snake was a black racer. Racers are nervous, irritable and fast-moving snakes commonly seen in Florida. When given a chance to escape, they generally do so very quickly.

Just before Highway 27 made a bend to the southeast, we passed through the small settlement of Palmdale, FL. A couple of nearby signs advertised the local gator farms. One was call the Outback Gator Ranch and the other, Gatorama. With 4,000 alligators and crocodiles, Gatorama is the world’s largest gator farm. The farm’s operators warn visitors, “No swimming or sunbathing. Violators may be eaten.” The state of Florida has 18 farms that produce 200,000 pounds of alligator meat and 30,000 hides annually. Having previously visited a gator farm in Louisiana, we weren’t interested in seeing the confined Florida gators. It was more thrilling to see them in the wild.

Also near Palmdale, we saw two areas of logging. The skinny trees being harvested were cut so that the timber could be neatly stacked across the width of the trailer bed. After seeing signs noting the Fisheating Creek Campground, we passed over the stream. The bridge was quite long as the creek looked more like a large pond than a river. The Fisheating Creek begins in Highlands County and snakes its way 52 miles through cypress knee-studded forests and marshes before reaching Lake Okeechobee (O-Key-Cho-Bee). Because of the tannic acid from vegetation, the creek’s dark-blue water enhanced the reflections of the sky.

A mile beyond the creek, Barb noticed that the trailer was swiveling a bit. Stopping to check it out, we found that the small tire was flat. There were no side roads to turn off onto so we pulled our rig onto the grassy drainage ditch. We risked getting a thorn in the tires with this placement but it was important for us to be off the three foot shoulder should any vehicles speed by. Although it was not the most pleasant setting for tire repair, we pulled the wheel off the trailer and started checking for the source of the puncture. Incredibly, the leak was caused by a quarter-inch segment of thin wire. The tire had lost about two-thirds of its rubber from nearly 7,000 miles of wear, so it was more susceptible to foreign objects. We had a backup tire with us but decided to give the 16 inch tire one more chance to reach Key West intact.

As we were getting the new tube inserted into the tire, we both started feeling something biting our feet. Because we were wearing sandals without socks, tiny black ants were having a field day with our exposed toes and ankles. Flipping them off with our hands was ineffective as they moved so fast and would scamper between our feet and shoes. We both trotted over to the paved shoulder and quickly removed our sandals. With our hands, we continued to swat away the speedy ants until we could find no more. We then knocked off any survivors from our shoes before putting them back on. The tire repair process was completed on the shoulder away from the grass. When we had to walk back on the grass to install the tire and pack the tools, we kept our feet moving constantly.

Once we were ready to roll, we took a last look at the grassy area where the attack occurred. There were no visible ant dens in the area but simply a few dozen ants running around haphazardly. The small, black insects appeared to be a colony of crazy ants. Aptly named, this menace does not follow trails, but is known for its erratic and rapid movement. They have no stinger but can bite an intruder and curve its abdomen forward to inject a formic acid secretion onto the wound. Having lived in Kansas, Ohio and Michigan, we had never experienced such aggressive black ants.

Just as we were ready to launch, our feet and toes started giving us an annoying itch. We got off the tandem and scratched the ant bites for relief. Amazingly, small white pimples had already developed over each wound. Wherever we would remove a pimple, the itch went away but the lesion felt like it was on fire. To each bite, we applied an ointment we had used for mosquito bites with success but the relief lasted less than a minute. With the temperature in the low 80s, we were really feeling the heat of the late morning sun. As we pushed the pedals, we were quite aware of our feet. At each five mile break, we stopped to rub the itchy areas. Even though Florida has a reputation as a bug-infested state, we hadn’t had any issues up to now. We suddenly had a powerful respect for the black ants.

Five miles from our destination, the road curved again as we headed due east. The surrounding flat lands were a mix of forest, marshland and fields. Occasionally, we would see standing water in the neighboring drainage ditch. One rest break was next to the water so we were on the lookout for devious alligators. The presence of water brought an increase in bird sightings. An anhinga with a four foot wing span was perched on a tree with its wings spread out for drying. Because the bird’s feathers are not waterproofed by oils, they can get quite waterlogged. Cattle egrets were seen flocking around some cows.

As we neared Moore Haven, FL, we went by two miles of sugarcane. The tropical grass appeared to have a height of ten to twelve feet. Because of the Cuban embargo in 1961, Florida ramped up their acreage of this sweet crop considerably. It now leads the nation in sugarcane production followed by Louisiana, Hawaii and Texas. Worldwide, Brazil and India each annually produce ten times the USA output of 30 million metric tons. It takes 224 stalks of sugarcane to provide the annual average sugar consumption of 67 pounds per person in the USA. Perhaps the fields we passed by would satisfy the sweet tooth of a medium size city.

At the outskirts of Moore Haven, a bald eagle posing as the community sentinel, was perched high on a dead tree limb. Outside of Alaska, more bald eagles live in Florida than any other state. A welcome sign greeted us with, “Moore Haven – Lake Okeechobee Sportsmen’s Paradise.” It seemed that all of the southern Florida towns were hyping their fishing and hunting. This town of 1,700 was started in 1915 by James Moore, a Seattle hotel owner. The Glades County Courthouse sits in the center of town along Highway 27. The light brown building is a block-shaped, two-storied structure with four, white pillars in front.

Before checking into our motel, we stopped to eat a late lunch at a KFC Restaurant that was connected to a convenience store. In the store’s parking lot, we gawked at a trailer-mounted air boat that was hitched to a pickup. We must be in the everglades now! Having ridden hard through the morning and having dealt with a flat tire, crazy ants and a black racer, we eagerly sat down for a huge meal. A local deer hunter later stopped and ordered a chicken dinner. When asked about his outing, he replied, “I didn’t get a deer but I saw quite a few wild boars.” The elusive hogs are so plentiful in Glades County that there are no legal limits on size or quantity. When we told the hunter about the extent of our trip, he responded with: “And I thought I worked hard today!”

Following lunch, we went across the street to check into our motel. There was still plenty of afternoon left to ride another 30 to 40 miles but we would then have a 90 mile segment after that. The best scenario was to have a leisure ride prior to the anticipated long day. While Randall unpacked the tandem, Barb had a nice chat with the lady managing the motel. The woman was a victim of the infamous 2004 hurricane season. Frances was the first storm through as it badly damaged the roof of her home. Before the woman could make repairs, Hurricane Jeanne came along and just demolished her cherished residence. By taking the job at the motel, she felt fortunate to have the manager’s quarters to live in.

When Barb mentioned our cross country adventure, the woman perked up as she experienced a trip of a lifetime in 1980. Joining several Native Americans, she rode horseback from Oregon to Washington D.C. to raise awareness of the problems Indians were facing. The ride took one year to complete and she lost a lot of weight during the excursion. She claimed she gained back 20 pounds in the first month following the trip. When she learn we were headed south on Highway 27, she recommended that we take the levee trail along Lake Okeechobee instead.

After settling into our room, we dug up information on the levee trail from the internet. Called the Lake Okeechobee Scenic Trail (or the LOST Trail), it follows the 143 mile long Herbert Hoover Dike that surrounds the lake. Parts of the trail were said to be unpaved gravel but it was unclear which segments were actually a solid surface. Given that the dike was 35 FT high, we figured that there had to be some scenery along the way. We confirmed that the access and exit points were compatible with our route plan so we were excited about our diversion for the next day.

Later in the afternoon, we able to listen to portions of a college football game using our internet connection. Our Kansas State Wildcats smacked the Nebraska Cornhuskers by a score of 45-21. That outcome felt so good that we managed to forget about our achy feet for a while. We soon discovered that the chamois butter we used for saddle sores also soothed our ant bites. For our next couple of meals, we kept it simple with snacks and sandwiches from the neighboring convenience store. Following an early dinner, we easily fell asleep by 8 PM.

Miles cycled – 56.9

October 24, 2004

At 7 AM, we began our day with pastries and juice that we had purchased earlier from the neighboring convenience store. We then packed our tandem seat bags with street clothes for a three mile trek to St. Joseph-the-Worker Church. Because the parish center was located west of town on Highway 27, we left most of our gear at the motel. Although we had passed by the church the day before, we did not notice it. We wondered if we would bike out into the country only to find fields of sugarcane.

Biking without the trailer, we started out somewhat wobbly. With only ten pounds of gear compared with the usual 140 pounds, it was like we kicked that jaded third person off our tandem. Without the usual 40 pounds on the front fork, Randall was naturally over compensating on the handlebars. Fortunately, we had a wide shoulder to ride on. The object was to ride 15 mph without heavy perspiration but inevitably, we were sweating about the stability of our long bike as it snaked down the highway.

When we reached the church, we parked our tandem on the shady west side. As we wrapped our 12 FT anti-theft cable around the bike, the local cat appeared and started playing with the end of the cable. Soon bored with that activity, the black and white pet sprawled out under our bike and made himself at home. Having pulled our street pants over our bike shorts, we soon met the church’s pastor. Upon learning that we were cycling for Habitat for Humanity, the minister noted that some HFH homes had been built recently in Glades County. At the beginning of the 8:30 AM service, the pastor made a point to welcome us and told the congregation about the extent of our trip.

Following worship, we went to the front of church to check out the beautifully painted wall that was behind the altar. The fresco of Jesus surrounded by children of various ethnic groups had very vivid colors. At the back of church, we found postings and pamphlets by FEMA to assist the area’s hurricane victims. After riding back to the motel, we started packing our rig so we could resume our tour. Outside our room, a large palm tree that had been toppled by one of the tropical storms was now just a two inch high stump. As Barb turned in the key, the manager encouraged her with, “Enjoy every minute.”

Before leaving town, we zigzagged down a few blocks looking for eating options. A motorist stopped and asked if we needed help finding something. He informed us that KFC and Burger King were the only places open that morning. Opting for beef, we pedaled a couple blocks over to the hamburger restaurant. After positioning our bike in the parking lot, a drive-through motorist asked if he could photograph our rig. His friend also jumped out of the car when we clarified the point of origin. They thought our “AK 2 FL” tag meant that we started in Arkansas. So, we gladly stood next to the tandem for the photo op.

Following our brunch, we were off to find the lake trail. As Highway 27 curved to the south, a huge overpass bridge came into view. Although we were not expecting this high-rise structure, the bridge’s six-foot wide shoulder made the climbing more comfortable. Nearing the top of the span, we were wowed by the magnificent Okeechobee Waterway. Using a series of five locks and Lake Okeechobee, the 152 mile waterway extends to the Gulf of Mexico via the Caloosahatchee River and to the Atlantic Ocean via the St. Lucie Canal. We slowly pedaled across the bridge’s crest to enjoy the distant view to the west.

After descending the bridge, we immediately exited onto the ramp for River Road. Curving around 270 degrees, we followed the roadway as it passed under the bridge we had just crossed. We then biked a half mile along the waterway before reaching a dam. Parking our rig next to the dam, we attempted to get our bearings. A nearby sign displayed the name, “Moore Haven Lock and Dam – Okeechobee Waterway.” Because there was no access across the dam, we wondered where the LOST Trail went through. A narrow strip of land between the two structures prevented us from viewing the lock to the northwest. We later determined that trail users had to leave their route north of the lock and follow Moore Haven streets to Highway 27 and then cross on the high-rise bridge we climbed.

Peering down at the dam’s four massive gates, we could see the dark, brownish water rushing through. The recent hurricanes had added quite a bit of water to Lake Okeechobee so the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers were trying to get the lake back down to a reasonable level. A six-foot high levee was initially built around the lake in the early 1900s. Two devastating hurricanes hit the area in the late 1920s resulting in eight-foot storm surges which wiped out Moore Haven causing hundreds of deaths. To prevent reoccurrence of the tropical storm disasters, the Corps constructed floodway channels, control gates and major levees which still stand today. Unfortunately the water management activities have greatly encumbered the water flow from the lake to the Everglades. Instead of steady sheets of water, the Everglades now experience periods of drought or powerful discharges of water.

On the release side of the Moore Haven Dam, the rapid water formed an aerated and unstable current. The frothy water had a whitewater appearance before connecting with the neighboring lock channel a quarter mile downstream. A dozen fishermen were seen plying the shoreline waters with their baited lines. On the opposite side of the dam, the dark-blue channel water was like mirror glass as the surface was calm and highly reflective. A string of red buoys crossed the channel to keep boaters from getting too close to the dam. Double-crested cormorants (a black seabird) and white egrets found the buoys and neighboring posts to be great resting places.

Departing the dam area, we pedaled a short distance southeast to a parking lot filled with boat trailers. While seeking out the access point to the LOST Trail, we became somewhat disoriented. We knew that the path was on top of a levee but the setting was confusing us. Expecting to see Lake Okeechobee on our left, we were unaware that the shoreline was seven miles away at this point. Ahead of us was a 12 FT wide paved surface that extended southeast on what appeared to be a dike. A locked gate spanned the entire width of the pavement. On each side of the gate, guard rails ran down the slopes of the levee.

After studying the two posted signs, we concluded that this was our intended path. The most dominant sign was, “Authorized Vehicles Only.” The second, less prominent, sign showed illustrations of a bicycle and a hiker with the words, “Florida Trail.” The LOST Trail is a segment of the Florida National Scenic Trail. Through our previous trail riding experiences, we had been accustomed to having posts inserted at the trail heads, not a gate that looked strong enough to deter a Hummer! The posts are typically spaced about three feet apart to prevent motor vehicles from using the trail. In this setup, the gate was offset from the guard rails to block even ATV and motorcycle riders. So, trail users had to squeeze between the two-foot gap between the rail and gate and then maneuver around the gate’s support pole to return to the pavement.

Navigating the staggered rail and gate crossing with a regular bicycle would have been challenging enough. Some cyclists would perhaps lift their bike over the three-foot high gate. In our case, a loaded, eight-foot long tandem was quite difficult to walk around the gate. As expected, we disconnected the trailer before doing the awkward task. While trying to avoid thorns and burrs, we slowly squeezed between the gate and rail and then pivoted our bike around the gate. We had to be careful not to slip on the soft sand and tumble down the levee’s slope. After we managed to advance the tandem around, we could pull the trailer under the gate and then rehitch it. Whew! What an ordeal.

Once we had completed the gate crossing, we had a very smooth pavement to enjoy. The first thing we noticed was that there were canals on both sides of us. A lot of dirt was needed to build a three-story high dike, so the Corps used the material that was dug out of the canals. The canal on the right is an irrigation ditch that provides water to the many crops in the region. The channel on the left is called the Rim Canal. As part of the Okeechobee Waterway, boaters can take this 50 mile segment around the perimeter of the lake. If they’re in a big hurry, they can shave eleven miles off by taking the open water route.

Just two miles down the trail, we met a couple riding horses. The equestrians were traveling on the grassy side of the levee so we avoided tangling. For the next 30 miles this would be the only humans we would see using the trail. For a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon, we would have expected to see more trail users. Perhaps the access gates discouraged travelers. The circular lake route passes through some extremely rural areas. Because we were higher up and trees were very sparse, we sometimes noticed the shifty winds off the lake. The few trees we did see looked like clusters of limbless, white spears. The lifeless sticks were probably killed by flooding long ago.

Occasionally, we could see smoke plumes from distant sugarcane crops. The fields are burned immediately before harvest. The white smoke is rather spectacular but short in duration. A 40 acre section will burn for 15 to 20 minutes. Some distant fields that were really blazing were just smothering cane stalks when we got closer. The fires burn off dead leaves which would otherwise impede harvest and interfere with the milling process. The leaves, if left on the cane stalks, would absorb the sugar and greatly reduce the yield.

The agricultural activities along the LOST Trail are quite diverse. Besides an abundance of beef cattle and dairy cows, we saw numerous crops of sugarcane, winter vegetables, rice, sweet corn, along with citrus groves and sod. Some of the most fertile soil in the USA surrounds the south shores of Lake Okeechobee. Through the ages, lake water saturated the area lands which helped to convert decaying plant materials into fertile, mucky soils. When the first set of dikes was put in a hundred years ago, the surrounding swamp land was drained to expose the rich muck. When the drainage channels and the current dikes were completed in 1937, even more acreage became available for farming.

Although we encountered just the horse riders while on the trail, we definitely didn’t feel abandoned. Various types of recreational boats went up and down the Rim Canal. A number of the vessels were obviously dedicated to bass fishing. A couple of the boats had the configuration of a speed boat as they raced down the waterway. They passed us like we were standing still. There was apparently no speed limit on the channel. One larger ship was an impressive, double mast sailboat. Like many of the passing boaters, the sailboat’s operator gave us a wave.

On the agricultural side of the dike, we occasionally saw the local residents fishing out of the irrigation canal. Who needs a boat when you can walk from your home to your favorite fishing spot? Those who weren’t fishing were seen working in the fields. They were too distant for us to observe what they were doing. Pedaling along, we saw an impressive array of cane harvesting equipment sitting idle near one sugarcane field. The combines, called chopper harvesters, cut the cane at the base of the stalk and then chop it into smaller segments before propelling the output into a wagon that is pulled along by a tractor. Unlike most crops, the remaining stubs of the harvested cane plants grow into another crop. After three or four harvests from the same plants, the sugar yield declines to the point where a new crop has to be planted.

Beyond the presence of people, we were just in awe of the wildlife along the canals. We had two sightings of alligators in the irrigation canal. The large reptiles appeared to be casing the neighborhood as they floated along effortlessly. Along these same waters, shaded rest stops with benches were installed for the comfort of trail users. We chuckled hysterically at the locations of these rest areas. To us, they appeared to be fast food stands for alligators! In addition to the gators, the waters were active with head-bobbing turtles and jumping fish.

Fishing might be king at Lake Okeechobee, but it was the birds that made the most impressive showing. In addition to cormorant, egrets and heron, we saw seagulls, anhinga, sandhill cranes, eagles, crows, hawks and vultures. This was truly a bird paradise. We observed an anhinga swimming through the water with just its head and neck above the water. It looked like a snake ready to strike. Some of the larger, long-neck birds would watch us with a cautious eye. Others were spooked by our presence and gracefully flew to the opposite side of the canal.

The wildlife was active away from the water as well. An armadillo was seen wandering about on the grassy levee slope. Along the trail’s edge, a vulture inexplicably landed 30 feet in front of us. Flying off just as abruptly, perhaps it was checking to see if we were still alive! Later, a dragonfly that was darting about settled on Randall’s left glove. After a half mile ride, the speedy insect lost interest and zoomed away. Eight miles into our nature slideshow, we were rudely greeted with another locked gate. Using the same routine as the first crossing, we made the tedious transfer around and under. The overbuilt barriers were certainly a momentum buster. It was like having a pleasant dream being interrupted by the alarm clock. This gate was not near an access point but a county road was nearby which may have justified the deterrent.

A half mile from the gate, we were surprised to find an idle road grader parked on the edge of the trail. There was several hundred feet of exposed sand that the grader was apparently trying to level out. Beyond this heavy machine, the outline of another dam came into view. Across from the dam, we could see a major channel that flowed southwest from the irrigation ditch. To our relief, the trail continued right across the top of the dam without any barriers. At a subsequent, shaded rest stop, three vultures were perched on the roof. This scene was more proof to us that the rest areas were ill-advised areas to stop.

After ten miles on the trail, we started getting glimpses of Lake Okeechobee. We were thrilled to see a great blue heron standing along the Rim Canal. With its long neck and legs, the four-foot tall bird stood firm as we pedaled by. At the outskirts of Clewiston, FL, we reached the Hendry County line and another locked gate. Urrgh! Past the gate, this community of 7,000 had a nice park area that ran parallel to the Rim Canal. On the opposite side of the dike was a parking lot filled with boat trailers. To the east, we could see the open water route that boaters could use to cut across the lake. With periodic markers to show the route, it looked kind of like an airfield landing strip. Larger boats probably steer cautiously within the dredged boundary as Lake Okeechobee is a fairly shallow lake with an average depth of ten feet.

Without warning, the trail came to a dead end. The disconnect was due to another water control dam ahead. So, we pedaled back a quarter mile to hop onto Clewiston’s streets. With all the sugarcane we biked by, it was no surprise to us that the nation’s largest sugar mill was located outside of town. Because harvested cane must be processed quickly before the sucrose deteriorates, the six sugar mills in southern Florida are located close to the cane fields. The brownish, raw sugar produced at the mills is sent to the state’s two sugar refineries, one of which is located in Clewiston. With both a mill and a refinery, the community stakes its claim as “America’s Sweetest City.”

When we found Highway 27 to the southwest, we turned left and crossed the bridge over Industry Canal. To complete our two mile, “U” shape detour, we turned left again which took us by the Army Corps of Engineers’ main office building. Without any signs to point the way, we were thankful to find the dike again. After ascending to the levee’s top, we were disappointed to find an unpaved, double-track path. Fortunately, the gravel surface only lasted for a quarter mile. We cringed when we saw yet another locked gate at the start of the smooth pavement. With the fourth gate crossing in twelve miles, we were beginning to despise these robust barriers.

As we continued southeast, we noticed that the scenery on the right side of the dike changed somewhat. We were now riding parallel to Highway 27. The rich muck fields were still to the west but offset by four lanes of traffic. In the early 1800s, before the swampland was drained to expose the muck, thousands of Indians settled in this area. Having escaped deportation to Oklahoma reservations, the former Creek Indians of Georgia became known collectively as Seminoles, meaning “runaways.” It was the Seminoles that named the lake, Okeechobee, which translates to “big water.” During the 1830s, the tribe fought the federal government’s efforts to relocate them. Having never signed a peace treaty, the Seminoles proudly call themselves, “The Unconquered.” Today, most of the tribe lives in the Big Cypress Reservation in southern Hendry County.

With Highway 27 now at our right, we certainly had a different perspective. While the motorists below had no view of the lake, we were relishing the fabulous scenery from our elevated route. After just five miles of riding in Hendry County, we reached the Palm Beach County line. With the change of counties, the shores of Lake Okeechobee merged with the Rim Canal. Wow, what a view! The expansive waters of this 730 square mile lake resemble those of a calm ocean. A source of water for seven million people, this body is the fourth largest lake completely within the USA (after Lake Michigan, Alaska’s Lake Iliamna and Utah’s Great Salt Lake).

Near the lake’s shore, we passed by a pile of dead trees that were probably cleared from the Rim Canal. The heap of dead timber was a favorite roost for the area’s vultures. Wanting to capture a closer photo of the large black birds, we stopped so Barb could walk down the grassy, levee slope. While Randall gazed at the lake, he heard some commotion and then turned to observe Barb aggressively stomping in the grass. It was those darn crazy ants again! Rushing to rescue (and spooking the vultures), Randall met Barb on the paved trail where she was doing an impromptu dance. Both her sandals were removed so that we could swat the elusive ants away. Fortunately, no additional bites were inflicted but the episode reminded us of Florida’s pesky insects.

Recovered from the ant attack, we continued with our lakeshore dream tour. At about a hundred feet, we noticed two dozen cattle egrets that were flying ahead of us. The white birds outpaced us slightly so they would land three hundred feet ahead of us and await our arrival. When we closed within 50 FT, they took off again. The setting was reminiscent of seagulls following a ship only these birds were leading the way for us. We were sufficiently entertained by the attention but the bird show was just beginning! After a quarter mile, we noticed that the flock was growing. There soon were 50 birds leading off. A half mile later, there were over a hundred egrets doing the fly-and-land-and-fly sequence.

Two miles later, we had well over two hundred birds in our entourage. Resembling a white cloud now, the growing flock continued to take flight and land. Some of them waited to the last minute to fly up out of our way. It was almost like they were mocking our slower speed. Up ahead, we saw about 70 crows stalking the levee’s grassy slope for insects. When we got close, the crows joined the egrets in flight for a flashy black/white integration. The crows, however, were apparently smarter than the egrets (or less attracted to humans) as they circled around to return to their insect search. Our fearless, white leaders hung out with us to the next locked gate. Amazingly, the bulk of the birds kept us company for six miles. It was the weirdest sensation as we felt like we were herding the birds.

Our fifth gate crossing was at the Miami Canal. As we reached the barrier, a woman had just ascended the dike using the narrow path along the guard rail. She had hiked up to catch a view of the lake before returning down below. We learned that she had relocated to Florida from Michigan a few months earlier so that she could be with her son and grandkids. After squeezing by the gate we could see that the dam had no access. Like the Industry Canal in Clewiston, we had to leave the dike and cross the water channel using Highway 27.

This was a more precarious detour because a slushy median prevented us from getting over to the two eastbound lanes. Our only option was to go the wrong way on the westbound shoulder for 500 feet. When we got to the 100 foot long canal bridge, the shoulder necked down to a one foot width. Yikes! We stopped and waited until we could see no cars approaching and then made a mad dash across. After a left turn, we headed back up to the dike. Naturally, another locked gate awaited us on the east side of the water control dam. The sixth crossing was just as challenging as the first five.

Resuming our ride, there were 50 cattle egrets ahead that were still hanging out with us. In the muck fields across the highway, we were seeing some sugarcane farming activity for the first time. One tractor was creating furrows five feet apart. A second tractor was applying fertilizer into the rows of trenches. A third tractor was laying 20 inch stalk segments horizontally into the furrows. The cane stalks have buds every two to four inches which sprout rapidly once covered with moist soil. Because the small seeds from the red or white cane plumes do not germinate very well, five percent of the annual harvest is set aside for stalk plantings. It takes about a year before the mature cane stalks are ready for harvest. Following four years of cane production, the fields are typically planted with rice to restore the soil’s fertility.

After passing four miles of dusty muck fields, our wonderful nature tour came to an end. Highway 27 was bending to the south and we needed to rejoin it for a short ride to South Bay, FL. Our exit was the municipal boat ramp area and of course, there was a locked gate awaiting us. We took one last gaze at a gorgeous Lake Okeechobee. Our faithful egrets would be staying behind. The LOST Trail was quite a treat! This was a rare day where we had to change to a second memory card in our camera. Beyond the gate we could take the public access road down from the dike. Studying the gate, Randall became rebellious and decided that he could walk our rig down the narrow guard rail path. A horrified Barb promoted the crossing instead. Randall trusted the brakes so we inched down the 15 percent grade risking thorns and a runaway tandem. After a successful descent, we paused to get our heart rates back to normal.

A quarter mile jog got us back onto Highway 27. Heading southeast, we pedaled a mile before reaching our motel. Having found the only lodging in this community of 4,000, we decided to locate a restaurant for an early dinner. We zigzagged through town looking for a business district but found none. Pedaling down some residential streets, we saw a number of the African Americans who make up two thirds of South Bay’s population. One young boy playing in a yard commented, “I like your camouflage!” While his companions chided him for referring to our purple jerseys as camouflage, the lad probably had never seen cyclists wearing colorful clothing that were meant to be conspicuous. Because hunting is so prevalent around Lake Okeechobee, we found his interpretation of our bike clothing amusing.

Later, a teenage girl shouted, “Where you been at?” Her accent was so heavy that we couldn’t understand what she was saying. Frustrated, she asked her question two more times with a raised volume. Regrettably, we didn’t piece together what she was asking until we were some distance away. Arriving back at the motel, we decided to check in and get some food from a neighboring convenience store. Five miles to the northeast, there was a larger town, Belle Glade, FL, which would have been a base camp offering more services. But, we decided that with 90 miles in the next tour segment, it would not be prudent to tack on more distance. After getting settled in and showered, we discovered that the area’s wildlife was quite evident in our motel room. Scurrying about the walls was a gecko-type lizard.

At the convenience store, we found lots of food options to satisfy our dinner and breakfast needs. As we paid for our selections, the Hispanic clerk asked us where we were biking to. When we told her we had biked down from Alaska, her eyes got real wide. After hearing that we planned to go south on Highway 27, she gave us a solemn, worried look, and said in a soft voice, “Be safe.” Back at the motel, we savored our day’s dramatic ride as we ate our hot meals. Anticipating an early start the next day, we soon called it a day.

Miles cycled – 34.6

October 25, 2004

The alarm clock rudely awoke us at 5:25 AM. Anticipating a long ride with no services for at least 80 miles, we were extremely motivated to begin our pedaling before dawn. In preparation for biking on a dark Florida highway, we replaced the batteries in our flashing red taillight and in our headlight. Following a large breakfast, we slipped on our sleeveless yellow jackets for greater visibility. One hour before the 7:28 AM sunrise, we launched our rig into the semi-darkness. The glow from South Bay’s streetlights gave us diminishing illumination as we edged out of town.

Our early start was inspired by various factors. Historically, we had found that we could cover a great distance on a bike if we began in a pre-dawn setting. We never understood why. Perhaps our legs stay fresh longer in the morning. The afternoon heat can certainly have an impact. We noticed that as we advanced further south into Florida, both the heat and ultraviolet indices were ramping up. The smooth, clean shoulder of Highway 27 certainly provided us with some riding comfort and safety. If we didn’t have the three to four foot wide shoulder, we would have slept for another hour.

With the early departure, we had expectations of lighter traffic. While very few passenger vehicles passed us, we were stunned by the high volume of semi-truck traffic. Just as our eyes were getting adjusted to the low-light level, a string of seven trucks passed us. All of the drivers moved to the left lane as they went around. Some of them probably thought we were nuts riding in the dark so they gave us the wide berth. All that mattered to us was that they could see our rig. For next ten miles, we averaged one truck per minute. After passing, four of the drivers gave us brief toots with their horns as if they were encouraging us along.

Just after ten miles, we turned onto to a rare side road for our first break. Sunrise was 15 minutes away and we were now beginning to understand why we were seeing all those semis. We were surrounded by tall sugarcane and harvest was underway. The crop is harvested annually from late October through March. Although the stalks have not reached maturity by late fall, the lower-yielding sugarcane is cut earlier to allow time for processing the whole crop through the region’s six sugar mills. Each semi was pulling a yellow trailer with wire-mesh siding. Depending on which direction we were from the mills, the empty trailers were going in one direction and trailers loaded with 20 tons of cane stalks were headed in the opposite direction. During the peak of harvest, a mill will receive two truck loads of sugarcane each minute.

While resting, we were amazed at all the cane trailers going up and down the highway. A few years back, we biked through a sugar beet harvest near Sebewaing, Michigan. The beets would spill from the overflowing trailers onto the highway shoulder. Because of the steady stream of trucks, we had to bike over a lot of abandoned beets. Thankfully in south Florida, the sweet cargo was not bouncing out. The “STOP” sign for the side road where we had paused was curiously altered. It appeared that someone had spray painted the face white. The red background was almost obliterated. We wondered, “Was this done to make rolling stops permissible? Or did the substantial sun bleach the sign?”

As the east sky became a fiery red color, we applied sun screen to our exposed skin. We thought we were reasonably tanned but the Florida sun was making us even darker. Continuing southeast, we were enjoying a moderate tailwind from the north. With a posted speed limit of 65 mph, this divided, four-lane highway was built for high velocity whether you were in a motorized vehicle or on a bicycle. With just a few strokes of the pedals after launching, we reached 10 mph which soon climbed to 15 mph. Adding a few hard strokes, we were startled to see our pace go to 20 mph. We would then settle to 17-18 mph and allow our weighty load to just sail along. Oh life is good!

Twenty-six miles southeast of South Bay, we entered Broward County. With nearly two million residents, Broward is Florida’s second most populated county. It was the center of controversy during the 2000 USA Presidential election recount. Strangely, we would bike 27 miles through the county without passing through a town. A short distance into Broward, the rare side roads went away completely. We were now past the sugarcane farming as the surrounding landscape was swampland with tall grasses. While we were enjoying a highway devoid of traffic signals, the absence of side roads forced us to change our rest stop strategy.

Without any crossroads, it would have been impossible for vehicles to turn around. So, every two miles, a crossover was paved over the grassy median. Because the swamp went right up to our three-foot wide shoulder, we did not feel comfortable stopping at the edge of the highway. For all we knew, a hungry alligator could be lurking nearby. When we were ready to rest, we checked for traffic behind and then scooted over the two southbound lanes for a stop at the crossover. In a couple of instances, there were approaching trucks from the north so we kept on pedaling. We would rather bike seven additional minutes to the next crossover than be caught on the side of the road with a motionless bike. A rest stop is much more relaxing when you’re not concerned with oncoming traffic and sneaky gators.

Even though our route was flat and fast, there was a lot of exertion on our part. This was quite a contrast to the day before when we took every opportunity to leisurely enjoy the wonderful sights. Sugarcane fields, swamps and power lines can seem rather monotonous after 20 miles so a faster pace was sensible. Further south into Broward County, we noticed canals on both sides of the highway. The North New River Canal on the east side is slated to eventually replace the Miami Canal that supplies water to the Miami area. The canal on our right occasionally had small ponds which were separated with a string of buoys. Like in Moore Haven, the double-crested cormorants found the buoy lines a nice place to rest.

Halfway across Broward County, we biked under Interstate 75. We had been riding parallel to this expressway since Kentucky. Called Alligator Alley as it cuts across the swamps of southern Florida, this 1,786 mile highway runs from Sault Ste. Marie, MI to Miami. We were grateful that most of the trucks seemed to be taking the entrance ramp to the expressway. As oppose to sugarcane, the semis were now hauling sod, large palm trees and various building materials. For the next several miles, the swamp’s edge was lined with Australian melaleuca. The 40 to 60 foot tall trees have a white, multi-layered papery bark. Introduced to south Florida in 1906, the melaleuca was widely planted for landscaping and for drying up swamps. Like the Kudzu vines in Georgia, Floridians consider the non-native tree an unwanted weed. When fire or herbicides is used to control the trees, each stressed plant can expel up to 20 million seeds into the air and water.

Having gone southeast for most of the morning, our route was now taking us directly south. After nearly 50 miles of riding, we were surprised to find a truck stop along the highway. We pulled in to check out their food options. Inside, there were no snack offerings so we bought a bottle of pop to sip. While munching on our energy bars outside, we noticed that the nearby trees were loaded with hundreds of crows. Periodically, a dozen crows would dive down to the gas pumps to seek out any trash inadvertently dropped by the truckers. With no food being sold inside, it appeared to be pretty slim pickings for the crows. There were two coin-operated boxes at the truck stop which distributed the local Hispanic news. Reflecting the upcoming elections, one of the newspapers, El Nuevo Herald, had the headline, “La Florida – Epicentro de la Campaña.”

Continuing south, the traffic was becoming heavier. At Pines Boulevard, we were halted by our first traffic signal of the day. Seven miles to the east, Flamingo Road crosses this boulevard in the heart of Pembroke Pines, FL. Based on automotive crash claims, State Farm Insurance in 2001 ranked this Flamingo/Pines crossing as the most dangerous intersection in the USA. With all the notoriety, the city has no doubt made some improvements to the troubled junction. None the less, we were thankful we were biking down the interior of Florida. Riding along the east coast would have provided a scenic ride as well but the associated stress from venturing into a high-risk traffic area would have been unbearable.

Although more cars were passing us, we still were not seeing any commercial or residential areas. It’s probably only a matter of time before the Miami suburbs expand out to Highway 27. A traffic sign noted that we were now 15 miles from Miami’s city limits. That was as close as we cared to be to the metropolis called “The Gateway to the Americas.” We were now in Miami-Dade County. The county was named for a soldier that was killed in the Second Seminole War. In 1997, voters approved the addition of Miami to the county’s name. A half mile after crossing the county line, we reached our right hand turn for Highway 997. If we would have stayed on Highway 27, the route curved to the southeast and into downtown Miami. Hopping onto this grand highway back at Stanford, KY, we found it to be a reliable route for 843 miles. Only the Alaskan Highway gave us more touring miles.

Shortly after turning onto Highway 997, we stopped for a photo op. A highway sign displayed, “Homestead 33 – Key West 157.” The distance indicator caused us to pause and reflect. Our target was less than 200 miles away. This ordinary green sign certainly ramped up our level of exuberance. Having been on the road for four hours, we drank a lot of water as the climate felt quite warm and humid. After leaving a divided, four-lane highway, our path was now a two lane pavement with virtually no shoulder. For the next five miles, the paved road headed southwest before curving to the south. We soon crossed over the Miami Canal that we had previously passed near Moore Haven.

Before long, the traffic on the narrow, rural highway started to pick up. Being in a county with 2.5 million residents, the extra vehicles were not unexpected but certainly unnerving. One northbound SUV stopped quickly before reaching us. As we wondered what was going on, the driver jumped out and gave us the thumbs up. The enthusiastic tourist then shot a photo as we pedaled by. The number of southbound trucks was noticeably high. Because of oncoming traffic, we had a half dozen trucks queuing up behind us on two occasions. Once the passing lane cleared the truckers all went by in one pass. Although the road was moderately busy, no one tried to run us off the highway.

During our tour planning in 2003, we read a number of stories about scary motorist/cyclist encounters in the sunshine state. Published in 1983, Barbara Savage’s book, “Miles from Nowhere,” portrayed the Florida drivers as inconsiderate and described instances where drivers intentionally ran her and her husband off the road. In contrast, we were finding the state’s motorists to be patient and understanding. The one exception was the trucker with the wide load near Avon Lake. As has been our experience, “timing is everything.” Highways and streets have slow times and busy times. If a cyclist is mixed in with heavy traffic that significantly accumulates to the rear, then a quick exit off the road to allow passage is prudent. When the route offers no safe exit points for some distance, then you would hope that the drivers understand your plight.

Our scenery continued to be a mixture of trees, tall grass and swampland. Some places along the road were really thick with melaleuca trees. A couple of pickups pulling trailers with airboats passed us. About ten miles down the highway, a two-foot wide shoulder was added. We were so thrilled to have the added comfort zone. After riding 69 miles, we saw our first commercial development of the day. The Miccosukee Resort and Gaming building was a ten-story tall casino operated by the Miccosukee Indians. Like the Seminoles, this small band of the Creek Nation settled in this area to escape the forced removal from Georgia. South of their complex was a crossroad called Tamiami Trail. Highway 41 was so named because it connected Tampa with Miami. We were now 18 miles west of downtown Miami.

After crossing the Tamiami Trail, we were just one mile east from the northeast corner of Everglades National Park. Containing the world’s largest mangrove forest, the 2,100 square mile park represents only one-fifth of the 50 mile-wide “river of grass” that drains from Lake Okeechobee. The boundary of the marshy park is shaped somewhat like an arrowhead pointed south. As the park’s border zigzags slightly to the southwest, the neighboring private lands yield a diverse mix of vegetables, fruits and landscaping plants. For the next dozen miles, we pedaled by an incredible array of cultivation. South Florida is considered the nation’s winter food basket and it is most evident on the patch of land between the Everglades and Miami. Seventy percent of the vegetables grown in the USA during the winter months are by produced by Florida farmers.

To the distant east, we could see some ongoing development gobbling up precious farmland. Miami is running out of land to build on so there’s a continuous struggle between the feeders and the eaters. The lines separating rural and urban are constantly being moved. While we were biking by vibrant green fields, developers were looking beyond the lines and seeing a different kind of green. North of Homestead, the community of Redland is trying to incorporate 68 square miles in order to halt development and nurture agriculture. They want to form a city in order to avoid becoming one.

On both sides of Highway 997, verdant fields extended all the way to the tree lined horizons. Green beans, celery, lettuce and radishes were among the first crops we passed by. Most of the plants seen were in their early stages of growth. Off in a distance, we could see irrigation systems spraying the young crops in a circular fashion. After pedaling by cabbage, pepper and tomato fields, we noticed a half dozen men sitting on the shady side of a school bus. Having spent the morning pruning tomato plants, the workers were now on their lunch break. Because the tomatoes will eventually be sold in fresh produce markets, the plants were held off the ground using four-foot stakes and nylon twine.

Near SW 136th Street, our watches showed a time of 12 noon. We pulled over to check our progress for the day. Through our past ten years of avid cycling, one of our yardsticks for improvement was the number of miles biked by noon. On one of the two northbound days in Kansas, we managed to ride 54 miles by 12 o’clock. Without touring weight, our best morning in Michigan was a 68 mile trek. So, we were quite astonished to see 77 miles on our tandem’s odometers. Our average speed was an incredible 16.7 mph. As we marveled over our feat, we appreciated the moderate tailwind and infrequent traffic stops which factored in. None the less, we concluded that we would probably never again have such a speedy morning.

Following our 12 noon checkpoint, each mile of our route’s intersections was regulated with traffic signals. The abundant fields were now alternating with fruit orchards and landscape nurseries. The numerous nurseries offered a wide range of tropical plants. It was an awesome sight to see large plots covered with ten-foot palm trees. We met one semi-truck hauling a huge, three-foot diameter palm tree along with several smaller ones. The fruit orchards were offering exotic produce such as longan, guava, papaya, lychee, coconut, annona and bananas. Some of the orchards must have been popular with the birds as they were entirely covered with screening. Among the 40 tropical fruit growers based in Homestead is “Going Bananas” which offers nearly 100 varieties of the yellow fruit.

As our surroundings were becoming more and more urban, we continued to see patches of crops, orchards and nurseries. In subsequent vegetable fields, we were able to observe various planting and cultivation practices. Specialized planting equipment was creating well groomed trenches across each field. As seeds were inserted between the furrows, an 18-inch wide span of black plastic sheeting was neatly tucked into the soil. The plastic provides extra warmth for faster growth and helps protect the young plants from blasts of wind. For crops like peppers and tomatoes that require transplanting, the process became more labor intensive. The planter would punch holes in the plastic as it was laid in place. Two operators, riding at the back of the planter quickly inserted a seedling into each hole.

In another field, we saw a tractor slowly pull an odd looking implement along rows of 12-inch tall tomato plants. Three workers on each side of the equipment were walking under the machine’s 20 foot long arms. Each operator had a pneumatic hammer that they used to pound steel stakes into the ground. Between every two plants, a stake was inserted one foot into the soil. In addition to the unique machinery, the large scale operations required a lot of resources as well. Pallets of black plastic rolls were place along the road for reloading the planters. Eight-foot tall, mobile spools of black irrigation tubing were strategically placed about the various fields.

Biking near the outskirts of Homestead, we noticed that the cross street names were numerically increasing. Typically, the numbers get smaller as you approach the center of a city. Beginning at the Tamiami Trail, the numbers were referencing the number of blocks southwest of Miami. At the intersection of SW 248th we spotted a Dairy Queen which quickly became our lunch stop of choice. After six hours of touring and a very fast 85 miles, we were rather soaked with perspiration. At 86 degrees, we were certainly feeling the burden of the tropical climate but pleased that we were almost to our destination. The toughest part was stepping into an air-conditioned restaurant. Burrrrr, it was cold in there!

Following a huge lunch, we returned to our tandem refreshed and chilled. In the parking lot, we spotted a photo opportunity. A service truck that catered to preventive maintenance had the name, P.M.S. Their slogan was, “It’s that time of the month.” Pedaling south again, we passed by even more orchards, nurseries and fields. This was certainly the most remarkable agricultural setting that we had ever seen. Two miles from Dairy Queen, a sign noted the Homestead city limits. The two lane highway was now a divided, four-lane street with a ten-foot grassy median lined with palm trees.

When we reached the downtown area, our orientation was challenged because the eastside streets ran parallel to Highway 1 which angled to the southwest. After meandering over to the busy highway, we jogged over a short distance to reach our motel. Our 2:15 PM arrival was at least two hours earlier than we had expected. After checking in, we gave our legs a welcomed rest. Because of Key West’s ongoing festival, we would be spending four nights at this base camp. With reasonable room rates that included a continental breakfast, we were very content with our wonderful, tropical setting.

Miles cycled – 89.4

October 26-28, 2004

Following a late morning breakfast, we set out to find a local grocery store. We hitched up our empty trailer as we expected to make a large food purchase. Our room was furnished with a fridge and microwave so we wanted to take full advantage of that. Wandering a half mile to the center of Homestead, we found Borges Supermarket and Cafeteria. Like a number of businesses in town, the grocery store catered to the Spanish-speaking population. Because of the labor intensive agriculture in the area, 50 percent of the region’s residents are Hispanic. As we locked up our tandem outside, we sensed that we were attracting a lot of attention. A bicycle built for two was not a common sighting for the store’s customers.

Once inside, we pushed our grocery cart down all aisles seeking out the foods that we had some familiarity with. We soon realized that we were the only non-Hispanics in the store. Given the Spanish prominence, we then wondered if our being mono-lingual would be an issue during checkout. As we traversed the narrow aisles, we found ourselves repeating most of them as our usual comfort foods were elusive. Going by shelves of pop and beverages, all the drinks were independent brands. There was no Coke or Pepsi. The meat department was very minimal and prepackaged items such as sandwich cuts were nonexistent.

Even more daunting to us was the absence of freezer displays. No TV dinners, no frozen pizzas. Hmmmm? After several loops around, our grocery cart started to accumulate stuff. A gallon each of orange juice and milk and two boxes of macaroni/cheese mixes were selected. Finally, we decided on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so a few more passes were needed to locate bread and the cherished spreads. While only one brand of peanut butter was stocked, there was nearly an entire shelf for sauces. From La Victoria green taco sauce to Pico Pica Mexican hot sauce, the choices seemed endless. Before checking out, we noticed a large display of religious candles and trinkets. Judging by the quantities, the tall “Our Lady of Guadalupe” candles were quite popular.

After we added cans of peanuts and cashews, the clerk then scanned our items and the amount due flashed on the register. Without saying a word, the cheery clerk took Barb’s credit card to complete the transaction. Based on our selections, we were obviously not local patrons. As we walked out with our bags, we realized how insular we were with our preference for American foods. Returning to the motel, we settled in for some relaxation and writing. Our email retrieval yielded a note from a well-wisher and a dozen messages that were spam. We could thank south Florida for the unwanted messages. Historically, the state has been home to large telemarketing firms. It’s only natural that the spammers would also take advantage of the gorgeous weather and the low key atmosphere.

The next day, we continued with the writing. A rough draft was started for an end-of-trip press release. Needing something beyond peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, we biked to a nearby cafe for lunch. A conspicuous sign outside the restaurant stated, “Bicycle Parking Only – Please Secure Your Bicycle Properly.” An ordinance code posted below the note to cyclists made us curious. Apparently the authorities were fed up with all the reports of stolen bicycles. After lunch, our return route to the motel took us by a clever sign for the local optometrist. The letter on the top row was a large “E.” Below that was a smaller “YE.” For those with good eye sight, you could see the smallest letters “CARE.”

After spending the balance of the day reviewing our photos, we stayed up late to watch the spectacular show in the sky. The lunar eclipse started at 9:14 PM and we began our viewing a few minutes before 10 PM. Unlike some areas in North America, we had a cloudless setting for our observation. We watched as the colors changed from orange to dark brown. At 10:23 PM, the totality began with the Moon completely immersed within the Earth’s dark umbral shadow. This phase of the total lunar eclipse lasted for 81 minutes. After five minutes, we had sufficiently captured the moment digitally. The dark brown blob wasn’t as exciting to watch so we returned to our room. It was way past our bed time. The next total lunar eclipse for the USA will not occur until February 21, 2008.

On our last full day in Homestead, we needed a changed of venue so we hopped on our tandem for a ride into town. With no set route to follow, we just meandered around while trying to avoid getting lost. Following Highway 1 a short distance south, we noticed that some of the billboards were in Spanish. It felt like we were in a foreign country. We soon found ourselves on SW 344th Street which was also called Palm Drive. For our convenience, there was a bike lane marked to the right of the two westbound lanes of traffic. We were now in Florida City, FL, the southernmost mainland municipality in the United States. Originally named Detroit, residents later voted to change to the current name. The city is at the eastern end of the only road running through Everglades National Park.

At the center of town was a fairly new civic complex. In 1992, Florida City and Homestead bore the brunt of Category-5 Hurricane Andrew. Florida City, with 8,000 residents, lost three-quarters of their structures so a lot of rebuilding has occurred over the past decade. As a result of stricter post-hurricane building standards, the newer structures were designed to withstand 175 mph winds. Turning northward, we zigzagged through a residential neighborhood. The area’s homeowners certainly weren’t bashful about loud colors. Florescent pink, toy green and sea blue were among the prominent exteriors. All of the dwellings had either metal shutters or steel bars covering the windows. Because many residents had tall fences around their front and/or back yard, we initially thought that the window coverings were for security. However, the shielding also provides good storm protection.

After heading east for a while, we turned left at A – OK Fish ‘N’ Bait. We found ourselves back on Highway 997 but in a northbound direction. Also called Krome Avenue, we noticed that traffic on Homestead’s primary road was rather light. We got the sense that we were off the beaten path. Surveying the mix of car tags, nearly all of the vehicles had Florida plates. Most tourist traffic apparently skips by Homestead using Highway 1 or the Florida Turnpike. Florida has 100 specialty license plates for those who want an alternative to the standard design showing a pair of oranges overlapping the state’s outline. Also displayed at the tag’s top and bottom are “MyFlorida.com” and “Sunshine State.” Among the most popular specialty plates are Panther, Protect Wild Dolphins and University of Florida.

As we neared historic downtown Homestead, the first thing we noticed was the really tall palm trees. The healthy plants were taller than the street’s two-story buildings. The community had done a great job refurbishing the downtown district. The stucco exterior of the buildings all looked freshly painted. After passing the Seminole Theatre, we biked over brick pavers which depicted a large rose flower. This area opened to homesteaders in 1898. Now with almost 40,000 residents, the community began to thrive with the 1904-1912 construction of the overseas railroad to Key West.

On the way back to our motel, we passed by a large, windowless building with the prominent sign, “Amputee Brace Clinic.” Sadly, this business probably exists because of repetitive motions and mechanized activities associated with the region’s agricultural work. After spending more time writing at our base camp, we biked a mile south on Highway 1 for dinner. Near the south terminus of the Florida Turnpike was a Golden Coral restaurant. We were very impressed with their buffet so we decided to return for breakfast the next morning. That evening, we reviewed in detail our map itinerary for the Keys. We were so close to an anticipated fun-filled ride that it was difficult to get to sleep that night.

Miles cycled – 11.0

October 29, 2004

Expecting a ride of about 40 miles, we began our day much later than usual. Before departing, Barb had contacted The Reporter, a daily newspaper covering the Upper Keys region. When told of our impending arrival in Key Largo, a Reporter staff member asked that we call again once we reached our campsite. At 10:15 AM, we biked one mile south for our return visit to the Golden Coral. With breakfast served until 11 AM, we made several trips to the endless buffet. While the food was so delicious, we realized that this would be the last time we were be eating in an uncontrolled fashion. When our waitress asked where we were biking to, she followed with, “You’ll have fun riding to Key West.

During Randall’s visit to the rest room, another restaurant employee quizzed him about the extent of our bike trip. As he studied our HFH card, the well-dressed worker was just incredulous about our journey. In wishing Randall well with our upcoming finish, the staff member then noted that he had a brother that was into bicycle racing. Shortly after Randall rejoined Barb in the dining area, the soft background music was interrupted. From the P.A. system, an enthusiastic voice bellowed out, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the staff here at Golden Coral would like to welcome our very special guests today. Randall and Barb Angell of Oakland County, Michigan have ridden their bicycle all the way from Alaska and will finish their trip in Key West. Let’s give them a big hand!”

While we were blushing from the sudden notoriety, a man at a neighboring table teased us with, “I’m driving my pickup over to Key West. You can load your bike up in the back. No one will ever know!” Laughing chaotically, we graciously declined his mischievous offer. As we finished our meal, various waitresses stopped by to extend their congratulations. Now plump with food, we gingerly launched our tandem again. In the parking lot, members of a high school marching band were congregating outside their bus. When we paused to take their photo, two from their group approached to query us about our trip. The band leader then yelled at the stray teenagers to get them back with the group. The leader reprimanded them with, “You owe me ten!” We weren’t sure if that was pushups, laps or what.

Back on southbound Highway 1, we were now at the point where the turnpike traffic merged in. Four miles to the east is the Homestead-Miami Speedway, a popular 1.5 mile oval racetrack. For the next mile, the divided, four lane road was packed with hotels and restaurants. Traffic was fairly heavy but we had a shoulder to ride on. At the outskirts of town, we arrived at the traffic light for Highway 905A. Known primarily as Card Sound Road, this lesser traveled route to the Keys averages less than 2,000 vehicles a day. Even though the older road is five miles longer, we decided early on in our planning that it would our route of choice. The newer highway from Homestead to Key Largo, called Eighteen Mile Stretch, is a death trap for self-propelled travelers.

Although the Eighteen Mile Stretch has a two foot wide shoulder, the motorists’ behavior creates a setting where there’s no safe refuge for cyclists. Tourists out of Miami International Airport are barreling down the road to their ultimate dream destination of Key West. Their rental car can’t get them there fast enough. It takes the stricter speed enforcement of the Key Island municipalities to slow them down. In the opposite direction, tourists are in an even bigger rush to get back to the airport after a booze-filled vacation. Mix in the slower RVs and boat trailers and you have some very frantic drivers. To offer relief, passing lanes were added every four or five miles. Naturally, the meager shoulder disappears with each segment of passing lane. When the shoulder is available, rumble strips placed every eight feet create an obstacle course. Cyclists should avoid this suicide stretch at all costs.

Just getting across Highway 1 for our left turn onto Card Sound Road was an ordeal. After waiting through two traffic signal intervals, we squeezed between some paused motorists to get over to the turning lane. Whew! Bearing southeast, Highway 905A was flat and straight with a two-foot grassy shoulder between the pavement and guardrail. A large, empty rock truck rumbled past us shortly after we entered the narrow highway. With such a narrow margin of space on our right, our feelings were somewhat claustrophobic. More empty trucks headed southeast while full trucks headed northwest. We soon realized that there was a rock quarry ahead. Thankfully, Florida Rock and Sand was just four miles down the road. Once past the quarry entrance, we were away from the busy rock-hauling loop to Miami.

Because of the truck traffic, the surface of Card Sound Road was moderately rough. After five miles, we stopped at a side road for a rest break. Now mid day, the tropical heat was really a drain. In addition to drinking lots of water, we soaked up our purple bandanas with water. The coolness on our scalps felt wonderful as we resumed our pedaling. The scenery varied from grassy marshes to dense mangrove trees. Occasionally, there were pools of water along the road. We were amused by a homemade sign that was nailed to a utility pole. Unreliable distances were posted as “Ocean Reef 5 – Key Largo 11 – Cuba 190.” Ocean Reef is a private resort on northern Key Largo. Like the sign at the start of Highway 997, the mileage indicators, raised our level of excitement.

Just past the sign, a small group of squatters have carved out a rickety community along a cove off of Barnes Sound. Living in boats or piles of scrap wood stacked up to look like boats, the year-round residents make their living from the cove. Because they are right at the county line, the temporary status of the squatters’ moorings is not questioned. Near one boat, we could see several bags of harvested sponges. Natural sponges are considered more absorbent, durable and longer lasting than synthetic sponges. Annually, over a half million sponges are pulled from the Keys waters. Next to another boat, there were several stacks of crab cages.

Continuing past the boat homes, we stopped at the public boat dock to check out the cove view. The mangrove trees were tightly packed around the cove’s perimeter. Some anglers were preparing their boats for an outing. From the shoreline, we could see various fish darting through the water. South of the dock was a restaurant/bar called Alabama Jacks. Their sign lured motorists’ eyes with, “Welcome to Downtown Cardsound – Voted Best Conch Fritters in the Keys – Welcome Bikers.” Parked in front were a dozen motorcycles and a few cars. Although it might have been interesting to mix with the motorcyclists, our tanks were still plenty full from the breakfast buffet so we pedaled on.

We were so focused on the unique restaurant that we barely noticed the bridge toll booth ahead. A nice blue canopy over the toll crossing greeted travelers with, “Welcome to Monroe County and the Fabulous Florida Keys.” On the side, an ominous sign cautioned, “Crocodile Crossing – Next 7 Miles.” Then we saw the bridge as it was being framed by the canopy. From our perspective, the 65-foot high-rise crossing looked really steep. As we approached the booth, we were retrieving the dollar toll when the gate operator interrupted us with, “Bicycles go through free as long as you avoid running over the wheel sensor.” So, we carefully walked along the narrow shoulder to steer clear of the sensor. The toll is also waived for vehicles when the Keys are being evacuated for a hurricane.

Our twenty-third and final county in Florida is known as the “County of Islands.” As we launched, we noticed a roadside vendor selling live blue crabs. After pedaling two hundred feet, we stopped on the wide shoulder before attempting to climb up the bridge. Strangely, there was a sign ahead of the bridge with the word, “Bridge.” The area is not lighted at night so apparently they have had motorists that were startled by the abruptness of the bridge. The grade of the approach appeared to be eight to nine percent so we positioned our chain into granny gear. With the sound of gently slapping water coming from both sides of the road, we slowly began our ascent.

For first half of the climb, there was a walkway with a three foot high concrete wall. About 50 feet up, two young men were fishing as they had five poles distributed along the wall. A sign warned, “No Jumping or Diving from Bridge.” When we reached the end of the walkway, the wall was shortened by one foot to serve as a curb. With the shifty cross winds, a two-foot high wall is not a substantial barrier. Paranoid that we could topple over the side, we rode four feet away from the edge. Traffic was light and not an issue. Only two pickups passed before we reached the bridge’s apex. During our bridge crossing, a sizable yacht was approaching from the north. Crossing from Biscayne Bay on the left to Barnes Sound on the right, the large boat passed under us as we reached the top.

At the bridge’s summit, everything opened up. We feasted our eyes on a wonderful panoramic seascape. There was endless water to the horizon in almost every direction. To our right, the fast-moving yacht cut through the expansive and highly reflective waters. Straight ahead, patches of dark green mangroves swirled forward before ending at the Atlantic Ocean. On our left, the darker blue waters went on for miles. Oh, what a view! Barb snapped the camera repetitively as we knew this brilliant setting would be fleeting. Although our weight could have sent us flying down the other side at 35 mph, Randall squeezed the brake levers tightly for a dramatic 12 mph descent. With our giddy feelings, it was like we were floating through the air.

After departing the bridge, a sign noted that we were entering the Crocodile Lake National Wildlife Refuge. The sanctuary was established in 1980 to protect the breeding and nesting habitat for the endangered American crocodile. While the brackish water next to the road discourages alligators, crocs thrive in it. The refuge apparently has been a success. The reptiles were proliferating so well that chain link fences were installed in places to deter road crossings. More aggressive than alligators, crocodiles are the top predators in their environment. While they might look clumsy on land, they can actually sprint up to 30 mph for a very short distance.

In spite of this grave danger, we left the highway at the first clearing. With the Biscayne Bay as our backdrop, we positioned our rig next to the shoreline for our proud display of seven fingers. Seven thousand, unbelievable miles! While capturing photos of our treasured moment, we glanced around frequently for any signs of crocs. Once our special moment was documented, we hastily got back on the highway and pedaled away. The road took us mostly east towards the interior of Key Largo, the largest of the Key islands. Along the way, we crossed four short bridges which had signs warning, “No Fires on Bridges or Roadways.” We met a yellow utility tractor that had a column of circular saws on a hydraulic arm. The equipment was trimming the mangroves back from the highway.

After four miles of mangroves and patches of sparkling blue water, we reached a junction in the road. To the left was the private road to Ocean Reef. On our right, Highway 905 went nine miles southwest before joining with Highway 1. Making a turn to the south, we were pleased to find a much smoother highway. We still had no shoulder but the traffic was quite light. Two miles down the road, we passed by the former Nike missile site. Closed in 1979, the site was hastily constructed after the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis. At the outskirts of the Crocodile Refuge, we felt safe enough for an extended rest. Because there was no shoulder, we picked a shady side road for our stop.

While we were studying our map, a state park ranger stopped his truck and asked if we were lost. When we told him that we had biked down from Alaska, he looked over our rig and queried, “Your stuff doesn’t look that weathered?” If only we had thought to show him the inside flaps of our faded red bags. Instead, we handed the dubious ranger our HFH card. He said that he had donated some landscaping plants to Habitat for Humanity. As far as sights in the Keys, he recommended a wild bird center and the hawk watch. Given that it was a Friday afternoon, he cautioned us that it gets pretty crazy on the weekends.

The rest of Highway 905 was somewhat bland as far as the Keys go. The trees were fairly solid on either side of the road. But, we were quite content to be away from traffic. Our 25 mile alternate route ended with our road going straight into Highway 1 as it curved around from the north. At this merging, there was a convenience store which was an obvious stop for us. From our research of the Keys, we knew that there was little shade and that convenience stores were few and far apart. Even though we were less than nine miles from our destination, we packed our Camelbaks with icy water. Outside the store, we were amused to see a rooster and hen in a heavy commercial area. They were contently pecking along the grassy edge of the parking lot.

Departing the convenience store was no easy matter. We had to cross four lanes of the moderately busy Highway 1, otherwise known as the Overseas Highway. Southbound motorists up to this point had enjoyed a speedy 18 miles and had yet to adjust to the island speed limits. There was a bike path on the south side of the road that ran the entire length of Key Largo. The beginning of the path at the Highway 905/1 junction was not well marked. Our plan was to use the path only as a rational alternative. Cyclists taking the path contend with countless driveways and drivers who do not even think about looking before crossing the path. Trees and shrubs reduce visibility making right-of-way issues even more challenging. Because the path would require constant vigilance, we decided that the highway with a shoulder would be safer.

After nearly ten minutes of waiting, the traffic cleared sufficiently for a crossing. Given that it was the weekend, we gave particular attention to RVs and to pickups pulling boat trailers. The extended mirrors on some vehicles can really stick out a ways. We were now approaching MM 106. Like the Alaskan Highway, locations in the Keys are indicated by mile markers which measure the distance to the Monroe County Courthouse in Key West. Instead of street numbers, these MM numbers are used by the locals and businesses to indicate addresses. A location with an address of 102517 Overseas Highway could be found near MM 102.5 and on the ocean side. The rectangular, green MM signs are consistently placed along each mile of Highway 1.

The first thing you notice about Key Largo is the extravagant commercialism. These desperate businesses have to be that way. Every day, thousands of tourists pass by with the intent of reaching Key West or other lower Key islands. The motorists’ attention is so fleeting that stores must be particularly eye catching to get the speedy cars to stop. Consequently, the landscape is dotted with huge sculptures of giant, multicolored fish, boats or menacing crustaceans. A number of the buildings are painted with dazzling murals. It was quite a sight, but the ploys didn’t persuade us to stop.

At MM 103.6, we crossed the 400-foot long bridge over the Marvin Adams Waterway. Known as the “Cut” by boaters and businesses, the half mile passage cuts the 30 mile long Key Largo at about the middle. The man-made waterway offers a shortcut between Florida Bay and the ocean. Scattered on the islands are marinas catering to the ever-present anglers and skin divers. We saw a number of dive flags waving from buildings. The flags’ red rectangles split diagonally by a white stripe gave us a cheery welcome. Key Largo, a community of 12,000 is known as the “Diving Capital of the World.” It is home to the most extensive living coral reef system in North American waters and the third largest system in the world. A mile southwest of the Cut, we passed the entrance to John Pennekamp State Park which is famous for its snorkeling and diving.

This state park was the first underwater preserve in the United States. With the coral and artificial reefs, recreational diving is huge in this region. If the Keys’ long history of shipwrecks doesn’t offer enough stuff to explore, there are several ships that were intentionally sent to the bottom. The most recent large sinking was the 510-foot long naval ship, Spiegel Grove, in 2002. Key Largo hosts 100 to 200 underwater weddings each year. One popular spot to get hitched is near the “Christ of the Deep.” The nine-foot statue of Christ has arms lifting up to the heavens from beneath the waves. And if you’re really into diving, you can check into the Jules Vern off the coast of Key Largo, the world’s only underwater hotel.

After passing a few restaurants, we decided to eat at the Waffle House at MM 100.2. This chain is quite prominent throughout southeast USA but this was the first one we had stopped at during our tour. Having driven to Key West in 1993, we recalled that chain restaurants and businesses were non-existent then. Now, the franchises appear to be well entrenched. Even though it was 3 PM, we treated this setting as if it was our final meal of the day. We weren’t seeing any grocery stores and we didn’t expect any services near our campsite. Once we had sufficiently cooled off with lots of iced tea, we hit the road again.

Just beyond the restaurant was the sign for MM 100. We stopped to get a good photo as this was another epic moment for us. A passing motorcyclist yelled out to us, “Only 100 miles, you’re almost there!” Three miles off shore from MM 100 is the Benwood on French Reef, one of the most dived shipwrecks in the world. Continuing on, the four lanes on the Overseas Highway were soon separated by a 200-foot wide median. Our paved shoulder deteriorated to nothing while the traffic kept a pretty good pace. With two miles yet to go, we were resigned to riding on the bumpy but firm grassy surface next to the highway. It wasn’t the most pleasant riding surface but we had seen a lot worse. Along the way, a billboard advertised Hog’s Breath Saloon, a Key West bar. Their slogan was, “Hog’s Breath is better than no breath at all!”

Having rumbled on the grass for a while, we were ecstatic to see the entranced sign for America Outdoors Camping Resort. In the spirit of Halloween, there was a “witch” smacked against the sign. Barb called the newspaper reporter to let her know we were in town. She said that she would be over in fifteen minutes. Inside the campground office, the manager asked about our trip. When he learned about our Habitat for Humanity involvement, he noted that he had helped with HFH houses on Big Pine Key. While registering at the office, we checked the time on the wall clock only to find that the clock’s hands had fallen off. When you’re in the Keys, time is irrelevant.

We had to decide between $40 or $50 sites. Checking the lower priced locations next to the highway, we concluded that it was quiet and secluded enough for a restful night. Before the reporter’s arrival, we wondered what kind of photo the newspaper would want so we delayed setting up our campsite. Soon, the reporter pulled into the campground driving a red convertible. After we guided her to our campsite, she quizzed us about what we packed on our rig. Like many before, she was amazed that we could get by on so little. Once she took our photo standing behind the tandem, she was quickly on her way to another story. To read the story, click here From Alaska to Florida by Bicycle.

Following the interview, we hastily put up our tent on the super-white sand. With power hookups and a picnic table, we had everything we needed. Having had two full meals for the day, we snacked on energy bars as oppose to cooking a meal. We were surprised to learn that the campground offered wireless internet through Linkspot. The catch was that it wasn’t free. With a one day subscription of $5, we were able to retrieve email and news stories much faster than the usual dialup connection. On our way to the showers, the sign, “No Bike Riding After Dark,” attracted our attention. Strolling across the grounds, we enjoyed the colorful trees and flowers. The trees’ growth had been managed to give every campsite some seclusion.

Instead of washing clothes at the available laundry facility, we soaped them up in the shower. After drying off, we wringed the water from our clothes and then slipped them back on. We had done this many times before with a chilling effect. With the temperatures in the mid 80s, this was the first time that the damp clothes felt really comfortable. Less than an hour later, we were completely dry! Following our refreshing showers, we went to the shore to check out the view of Florida Bay. An outdoor food bar called Fishtails was at the center of attention on the shore. With lunch and breakfast served there, we knew where our next meal was coming from. From the food bar, a wooden pier stretched out 300 feet into the bay. We ventured out on the decking to gaze at the mangrove lined shore to the northwest. The south boundary of Everglades National Park is just a mile north from the Keys coastline. What a wonderful way to end the day.

Returning to our tent, we meandered by several RVs that were parked in the area. It was apparent to us that we were in a very upscale campground. On our short list of campgrounds, we could have settled for a site with fewer amenities. However, we saw this as an opportunity to gawk at the lifestyles of the rich. Besides the Greyhound bus sized RVs, there were several midsize units that had quite a setup. Tracking white sand in? No problem. Just cover the entire lot with green outdoor carpet. Satellite dishes were more abundant than mosquitoes. For inclement weather, a simple awning wouldn’t do. Many had full lot coverage with an overhead canopy. Back at our campsite, the mosquitoes were starting to feast so we retired to our cozy tent.

Miles cycled – 38.2

October 30, 2004

At 7:10 AM, we were awakened by the morning’s first light. With temperatures in the low 70s, we began packing things right away. Breakfast service at Fishtails would start at 8 AM so we wanted to break camp by then. Because of the heavy traffic we saw on Highway 1 the day before, we were motivated to be back on the road before the vehicle volume ramped up. Once our rig was loaded, we pedaled the 500 feet to the shoreline snack bar. While waiting for the food vendor to open, we strolled once again onto the pier to check out the gorgeous blue bay. We noticed that some of posts near the pier were topped with plastic caps in the shape of a cone. Apparently this covering was use to control bird roosting.

Near the pier, there was a sign that had been posted by Save our Seabirds, Inc (SOS). The very detailed display offered tips for anglers who inadvertently hook a bird with their fishing line. The photo instructions included how to hold the bird and how to extract the hook. To aid in the bird’s recovery, SOS strongly discouraged the quick resolution of cutting the line. Another sign posted on the side of the food bar gave us a chuckle with, “May your fish always be bigger than the holes in your net!” Besides serving breakfast and lunch, the vendor also sold frozen bait. Because we wanted to maintain our morning appetite, we didn’t dwell very long on the long list of bait: “squid, chum, finger mullets, thread herring, rigged ballyhoo, and silver sides.”

When the food bar opened, we quickly placed our orders. The female cook noted our matching bicycle jerseys and remarked, “Don’t you two look cute!” After receiving our servings of pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon, we seated ourselves near the bayside view. As we plopped down into our chairs, we could feel some immediate stiffness in our back and legs. Our bodies were revolting not because of the cycling but because we hadn’t camped since central Georgia. Although our air mattresses provided some comfort, they didn’t match the softness of a motel bed. While enjoying our meals, the campground cat watched us intently. The feline’s begging eyes and meow pleas were ineffectual as this pair of hungry bikers would not be leaving any scraps.

With our duel fuel tanks filled we hopped back onto Highway 1. Now at MM 98, the traffic was light enough that we could stay on the pavement. With two southwest-bound lanes, all traffic could pass us without issue. A couple of the locals were apparently unnerved by our presence on the highway. We could see them pointing in the direction of the bike path after passing. If it would have been the middle of the afternoon, we would have considered the path as the shoulderless road and traffic would have made things too stressful for any great distance. After two miles, the wide, 200 foot median narrowed back to 20 feet. With previous widths up to two miles, the island was now only 1,500 feet across. We were now getting some glimpses of the scenic ocean. The movie, PT-109 had some scenes staged on Key Largo’s shores.

A half mile past MM 95, we reached the boundary of Tavernier, a small community of 2,500. While we were still on Key Largo Island, a small, deserted island one mile offshore had the name Tavernier Key. Many of the Keys’ names are Spanish as the prefixing name was Cayo which denotes a small, coral-based island. After decades of mispronunciation by English-speaking residents, Cayo became Key. Tavernier is actually a French name meaning tavern keeper and was probably derived from the original Cayo Tavona which translates to Key of the Horse Flies. In the 1800s, pirates used this key as their base during the day and searched the reef at night for booty from ships that had run aground and sank.

At MM 93.6, we noticed a sign at the entrance of the Florida Keys Wild Bird Center. If the park ranger hadn’t suggested this attraction, we would have missed it as the sign wasn’t very prominent. This six-acre rehabilitation site for birds is the largest of four centers located on the Keys. Their primary purpose is to provide emergency and recuperative care for injured birds. Eighty percent of the avian patients are treated for fishing-related incidents. Toxic chemical exposure and collisions harm the balance of the birds. A number of chicks that have fallen out of their nest are also received. For the center’s staff, success is measured by the number of birds returned to the wild to continue their natural life cycle. Those birds that are permanently disabled live out their protected lives at the center and provide photo opportunities for gawking tourists like us.

With camera in hand, we entered the network of boardwalks which meandered to the bay’s shoreline. Our fall timing was excellent for viewing birds as the migration season had been underway for a couple of weeks. Also, since all of the focus was on Key West’s Fantasy Fest that day, we saw only four other tourists visiting. Each winter, the center is frequented by a number of the previously rehabilitated birds and others that just liked being in the company of other bird species. Initially, we passed by several cages holding healing or disabled birds. For unobstructed views, plexi-glass windows were sometimes inserted into the cages’ wire frames. After hearing a “whoo-whoo-whoo-whooo-ah,” we could see the distant, penned hoot owl that was making the call. Seeing the captive owl was a sight to behold. In neighboring cages, we saw a red tail hawk, a bald eagle, a yellow-crowned night heron, an osprey, a merlin falcon and numerous pelicans.

Among the cages were displayed a number of interpretive signs and memorials. In addition to describing the various species, the signs educated the public about the perils that wild birds face. Similar to SOS’s sign at the campground, there was information on caring for birds caught on a fishing line. One posting listed a long discourse about the pros and cons of feeding wild birds. The center emphasized that they only distribute limited amounts of food and that the birds are fed only their natural diets of fish. The problem outside of the center is that humans have a natural instinct to nurture children, pets and wildlife. The digestive system for birds cannot tolerate the fats and preservatives that human food contains. Even worse for the seabirds is filleted or scrap fish. The exposed fish bones get stuck before a bird’s system can dissolve the bones.

Halfway into the refuge, we noticed that the staff was walking around with five-gallon buckets. It was feeding time. Initially, the sight (and smell) was sickening to us as cage trays were filled with live minnows and other small fish. After the cage feeding was completed, a bucket of fish was emptied into an opening in the trees. Dozens of egrets of all sizes immediately swooned down upon the rocks to feed. What a sight! Continuing down the boardwalk, there were seabirds all about in the mangrove and buttonwood trees and in the marshy waters. While a snowy egret posed precariously on a limb for us, we gazed at its striking colors. The white bird had a yellow patch of skin around its eyes, a black bill and black legs with bright yellow feet. Geez, why would a seabird have such distinguished-looking feet?!

Once we reached the shoreline, a large contingent of pelicans awaited us. While only the seabirds back at the cages were being fed, these large, web-footed birds seemed to be anticipating food with our arrival. Seeing numerous small and large fish in the surrounding water, we felt that surely these birds could make an honest living. Soon, one the larger birds lurched for a fish, with its wings spread in a canopy over the target. The boldest of the pelicans stood on a small rock six feet away and gave us several photogenic poses. Returning to the cages, we noticed some spider webs we had missed earlier. A sign stated, “These spiders are harmless to people, they bite only bugs!” Near a supply shed, a large web had a distinctive “X” entwined across the network of thin string. It was almost as if the silver orb weaver spider had marked its signature.

Before departing the center, we checked out one last spur on the boardwalk. To our amazement, the path led to two pens of infant raccoons. A staff member soon arrived and asked if we wanted to see one up closed. We giggled as the juveniles scurried up and down the three levels of their cages. They acted like small kittens with three times the speed. As she retrieved the raccoon, the woman explained that the masked critters come into rehab because their moms were killed through trapping. The orphaned raccoons stay for a year before being release in the spring as a family group.

For several minutes, Barb tried to take photos of the raccoon squirming all about the woman’s shoulders. The very energetic creature wasn’t being very cooperative. The most famous raccoon to rehab at the center was “Bud Man.” For a month, campers had seen this unfortunate critter hobbling around a campground before some young men contacted the center for rescue. Because the animal’s front leg was stuck in the tab opening of the beer can, the staff had to perform a “canectomy.” After surgery and rehab, the young raccoon become another success story. Back at the entrance, we intently inserted money into the donation box. Enthralled by both the diversity and magnitude, that was the most interesting bird sanctuary we had ever seen.

When we reached our rig, we noticed that something was tucked under the bungee cord attached to our trailer. It was a dollar bill. A visitor apparently saw our HFH banner and decided to make an unsolicited donation. Wow! The anonymous contribution was very meaningful to us as we will never forget the method of delivery. Now almost 10 AM, we had biked only four miles of our projected 50 mile target. But, we considered our advancement quite adequate for absorbing the Keys. A leisurely pace was appropriate as we wondered when would we ever get to bike on this stretch again. With prevailing winds out of the northeast at 10 to 15 mph, how could any southwest-bound cyclist be concerned with making progress?

As we rambled through Tavernier, we crossed over Tavernier Creek near MM 90. The wide, natural channel offered boaters another opportunity to travel from the bay side to the ocean side. On the 300- foot long bridge, there was a narrow walkway that was separated by a concrete wall. Since, the traffic was still light, we stayed with the highway. Beyond the waterway was Plantation Key where the four lanes necked down to two with a nice shoulder. Tavernier also straddles this key which can be confusing to visitors. The 127-mile long Keys archipelago, which is a cluster of 1,700 mostly deserted islands, is just a crazy quilt of unplanned town, villages and keys. On the west side of the channels sits the Tavernier Creek Marina. The site is quite prominent with its large, blue/white striped sheds for housing boats. While resting after the bridge crossing, we watched as an oversized forklift truck with 20 foot long forks was hauling a shiny new boat from the display yard. Having grown up in land-locked Kansas, we had never seen anything like that.

The five-mile long Plantation Key was aptly named from its early days of pineapple and banana production. Coconut, limes and vegetables also were grown here up through the early 1900s. Key limes were popular for sailors to prevent scurvy on their long voyages. Farming all but disappeared because of limited water supply, distance to market and tropical storms. The housing developments and lower Cuban prices also led to the demise of island based produce. One of the island’s landmarks is the McKee castle at MM 86.7. The building once belonged to “Silver Bar McKee,” a Navy diver who struck it rich in the 1940s when he discovered the remains of a lost Spanish fleet. The commercial site now houses various merchants in Treasure Village. With a 35-foot lobster near the highway, the place is hard to miss.

After passing through Plantation Key nonstop, we pedaled over Snake Creek using a 200-foot long span that included a draw bridge. Unlike the previous bridge, we had a comfortable four-foot shoulder to ride on. We normally would walk our rig over grated surfaces but this passage was a short span that created no problems. Naming a wide channel a creek confused us as we considered a creek to be a stream with a small trickle of water. The somewhat elevated bridge gave us a wonderful view of the ocean to the south. With the creek crossing, we were in Windley Key and Islamorada, FL (pronounced EYE-la-mor-AH-da). This city of 7,000 is one of only five incorporated cities on the Keys. The others are Layton, Key Colony Beach, Marathon and Key West.

The main attraction on the two-mile long Windley Key is the Theater of the Sea at MM 84.5. The former quarry is a marine animal park which stars various sea creatures. We were quite impressed with the park’s bushes which were sculpted to look like dolphins. Continuing our island hopping, we pedaled over the Whale Harbor Channel. Enjoying another nice shoulder, we were startled by the vastness of the water on both sides of the 300-foot long bridge. The water was just so blue looking. A sign noted that we were entering Upper Matecumbe Key (pronounced MAT a KOM bee). Needing a rest break, we stopped at the Islamorada Chamber of Commerce and Visitor Center near MM 83. As is the custom in the Keys, their mailbox was designed to attract motorists’ attention. The small replica of a red caboose certainly made us stop and take notice.

Once inside the Chamber’s office, we were chilled by the air conditioning as the temperature outside was a humid 81 degrees. While perusing the available pamphlets and postings, the staff asked about our trip. One woman, a native of Kentucky, was excited to hear that we biked through her home state. She reminisced about the wondrous fields of tobacco and how the plants’ flower stalks shot up in the late summer. With vivid memories of the tobacco flower’s brilliant pink color, she lamented that her husband, a Keys native, had never seen this unique Kentucky setting. Our adventure reminded the staff of two women who earlier traveled through the Keys on foot. Amazingly, the walkers spent 14 months traveling from Blaine, WA to Key West. They had a RV which supported them along the route. Their website is greatamericajourney.com. As we wiped the perspiration off our faces, one of the ladies encouraged us with, “Good thing you weren’t here last week when it was really hot.” Urrrrgh!

At the visitor’s center, we learned that Islamorada is known as the “Village of Islands.” The name Islamorada is frequently translated from Spanish as “purple isles.” Hence, the color purple inundates the local shops and resorts. The municipality proclaims itself as the “Sports Fishing Capital of the World” as it holds more sports fishing world records than any other destination in the world. The Atlantic side of Islamorada is brimming with marlin, dolphin, tuna, lobster, snapper and grouper. In the shallow backcountry waters of Florida Bay, anglers can easily find tarpon, bonefish and redfish. With all of the angling opportunities, the area boasts that it has more boats and ships per square mile than anywhere else on earth.

Cooled and refreshed, we continued across Upper Matecumbe Key. This island was devastated by the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935 with storm winds exceeding 200 miles per hour and a 17-foot tidal wave that washed over Islamorada. Hundreds of lives were lost. Among the dead were 259 World War One veterans who were constructing new bridges for vehicular traffic (only railroad bridges existed prior to 1935). Sadly, the bridges were never completed but the Florida Keys Memorial at MM 81.5 honors those who lost their lives. Beyond MM 80, we found ourselves at the southwest edge of the four-mile island.

Ahead of us were four bridges, two causeways and a tiny “T” shaped island to pedal across. With this two mile segment, our island hopping was now approaching the dream stage. Following a 300-foot bridge, we entered Tea Table which consisted of two narrow half-mile strips of land that were perpendicular to each other. Beyond the island was a 700-foot bridge that crossed the Tea Table Key Channel. Next up was the Indian Key Fill which was a causeway that was almost a mile long. For the first time since ascending Card Sound Bridge, we had tremendous, expansive views on both sides of the road. On the ocean side, the fall sun glistened off the sea giving it a silver-blue color. To our right, the bay’s backcountry waters had a gorgeous pattern of blue and blue-green colors. One mile offshore we could see Lignumvitae Key (pronounced LIG num VI tee) which boasts the Keys highest point above sea level, a whopping 18 feet. The dark green island is covered with rare tropical hardwood trees.

A half-mile long bridge then took us over Indian Key Channel to an unnamed causeway. Lastly, a 900-foot bridge took us over Lignumvitae Channel to reach Lower Matecumbe Key. Both the two-lane highway and the bridges on this two mile segment had a nice, five-foot wide shoulder. Although the shoulder seemed fairly clean, we discovered that we had a flat just past MM 77. Bummer! As the tandem snaked around, we found refuge in the driveway of a resort. We walked our rig about a hundred feet to a spot that offered shade and a rock to sit on. It was our front tandem tire that went flat for the fifth time during the tour. The front wheel was always a bigger ordeal to change because we had to remove the front panniers. Since the kick stand could not steady the tandem without damaging the front fender, we propped up the front using Randall’s right pedal.

After a thorough inspection, Randall finally found a sliver of glass embedded in the tire. The small shard was so hard to remove that we had to use tweezers to poke it through. We covered the tiny hole in the tire with purple duct tape and then inserted a new tube. Because of the humid, warm air, pumping the tire back up was quite a workout. We felt more spent from fixing a flat than we did pedaling down the highway! Continuing four miles to the west end of Lower Matecumbe Key, we stopped at Annie’s Beach at MM 73.5. The popular village park has a scenic, sandy beach on the ocean side and a half mile boardwalk that winds through a natural wetland forest. Most important to us were the park’s shaded picnic tables. It was now 12 noon and we were hot and hungry. Enjoying the wonderful view, we snacked on energy bars and drank lots of water.

Resuming our ride, we could see that we had another bridge ahead. The crossing took us over the one-third mile long Channel Two. We were now leaving the Upper Keys region. As one would expect, the next two regions were called Middle Keys and Lower Keys. While pedaling across the channel, two structures drew our immediate attention. The first was the old railroad bridge which ran parallel to the highway on the bay side. Given that the old bridge was only 50 feet away, we got a good view of the early 1900s engineering marvel. A series of massive, concrete archways had been beautifully crafted to give the bridge a strong foundation. No longer used for trains or vehicular traffic, the old bridge is a popular platform for fishing.

The second structure to capture our attention was the Channel Five Bridge. In a rare occurrence on Highway 1, the southwest-bound route bends 75 degrees to the northwest before Channel Five. With the road curving 1.5 miles ahead, we had a side profile of a bridge that was nearly a mile long. Several, tall concrete pillars lifted the span 65 feet into the air. Although we had gained some confidence with riding on Keys bridges up to now, one word described our immediate feelings. Terrified! For the next mile, we tried to block the sky-high crossing out of our minds as the structure grew larger and larger.

Having exited the Channel Two Bridge, we entered Craig Key which appeared to be a mile-long causeway. Surprisingly, the city limits of Islamorada went all the way to MM 73 as their departing sign sent us off with, “Catch You Later!” Thankfully, the slender Craig Key occasionally had some trees which obscured our view of the upcoming bridge. As we rounded the bend, there it was, a quarter mile ahead. The approach wasn’t as steep as Card Sound Bridge but the curb barrier was a mere three feet high. Obviously, we rode closer to the white, highway edge line than we did the concrete wall. Without any problems, we sailed up to the top of the bridge. Randall cautiously guided our rig in a stable manner while Barb clicked away on the camera. Descending the bridge was not quite as intimidating. We had incredible views all around. The azure blue waters of the ocean contrasted with the multi-color blue hues of the bay. It was just surreal!

Beyond Channel Five, we pedaled half a mile on a causeway before the road curved back to the southwest. We then skirted the small Fiesta Key. KOA Kampground owns the island which features an upscale resort campground on the bay side. From Fiesta Key, we ventured to Long Key using a short causeway. About 80 percent of this secluded island is taken up by the popular Long Key State Park. The town of Layton, population 200, is situated north of the park. Halfway across the four-mile island, we stopped to get a good photo of a sign. With the displayed warning, “Caution Poisonous Snakes,” we didn’t stick around very long. The state park’s shallow tidal flats and lagoons are home to a wide range of wildlife. As we departed the island, a highway distance sign indicated that we were 15 miles away from Marathon, FL.

Our next water crossing took us over the Long Key Channel. Unlike the Channel Five Bridge, this viaduct was fairly flat. Once we got rolling along our speed on the bridge leveled out to an astonishing 19 mph. We were puzzled as we were cranking our pedals with a casual effort. It was like a hand was pushing us along. On the causeways and islands, the tailwind appeared to be 10 to 15 mph. All we could rationalize was that the wind currents over the water were much higher and in our favor. A third of the way across the bridge, we cranked hard to see what speed we could obtain. We maxed out at 33 mph. Returning to a casual speed, we scanned around to take in the terrific sights. The bay waters were even more dazzling with its turquoise blue colors. In places, the water was so shallow, we could see the bottom.

The old railroad bridge was now on our left. The human toll for making the islands contiguous through a rail line was extraordinary. During the 1906 construction of the old Long Key Bridge, the railroad workers lived in two houseboats which were called quarterboats. These boats were large Mississippi River barges with houses on top of them and were moored next to the bridge construction. An October hurricane struck the Keys and washed one of the quarterboats onto Long Key. The other boat with 160 men aboard was blown out to sea where it sank a day later. In the ensuing days after the storm, 83 survivors were plucked from the nearby waters. All told, 700 railroad workers were lost to hurricanes and accidents during the six year construction. A century later, the bridge shows its age but makes a good fishing pier. Some anglers had walked quit a distance out to find the hot spots.

Even though we were going along at a fairly good clip, the Long Key Bridge appeared to be endless. It went on and on and on. Occasionally, small boats with cheerful, waving hands powered their way to the northeast. After two and a quarter miles of cycling, we reached the end of the Keys’ second longest bridge. What a fun ride! Just past MM 63, we cycled through the picturesque Conch Key. With its white-washed cottages, the 20 acre island resembled a tiny New England seaport. We then followed a mile-long causeway before crossing the quarter-mile bridge over Tom’s Harbor Cut. Within the next half-mile of narrow land mass, the ocean-side Duck Key is linked to Highway 1 via a short bridge. In the 1950s, a wealthy Canadian purchased this 50 acre island and expanded it to 300 acres using several million cubic yards of fill. The perimeter of the key actually resembles a duck’s head.

Before crossing a second quarter-mile bridge over Tom’s Harbor Channel, we spotted some men adjusting their diving gear while on a Fish N Fun rental boat. One of the divers appeared to be ready to take the plunge. The channel crossing put us on a cluster of islands 13 miles long. The first of the group was Grassy Key. Although we were still eight miles from the center of Marathon, the city’s welcome sign was just beyond the Grassy Key sign. Marathon overlaps a number of the local islands. In planning our overnight stops in the Keys, we choose Marathon as it is a reasonable halfway point. Knowing Seven Mile Bridge was just west of the city, we had made a reservation at the campground that was closest to the entrance of the long bridge. An early morning departure would then put us with fewer west-bound vehicles.

At MM 59, we passed by the Dolphin Research Center. Because a 30-foot statue of a mother and baby dolphin stands near the entrance, the place is hard to miss. Like the Theater of the Sea, the center offers visitors an opportunity to interact with intelligent and curious animals. This location was developed by the Santini family in the mid 1950s. Learning that the Miami Sea Aquarium was paying $100 for dolphins, two Santini brothers mastered the art of carefully capturing and transporting the marine mammals. During a dolphin delivery to the 1962 Seattle World’s Fair, one of the brothers, Milton, broke his back in a truck accident. Having returned to Grassy Key to rehab, part of Milton’s therapy included squeezing a ball.

One day, his therapy ball inadvertently fell and bounced into a neighboring pool. To his amazement, their favorite dolphin, Mitzi, tossed the ball back. A star was born. With subsequent training, Mitzi was awarded with a fish for various tricks. When one fish was overthrown, the dolphin jumped up and swam on her tail backwards to retrieve her reward. The “Backward Tail Walk” instantly became a hit. In 1963, Mitzi landed the starring role in the movie “Flipper” and later, “Flipper’s New Adventure.” Mitzi performed all of her movie stunts except for the tail walking which a male stunt dolphin did. The movies and the ensuing TV series put Grassy Key on the map. When she died of heart attack, she was buried beneath the dolphin statue. A small plaque there reads, “Dedicated to the memory of Mitzi – The original Flipper 1958-1972.”

After trekking three miles across Grassy Key, we followed a narrow land strip to reach Crawl Key. The island was named for the pens (crawls) where large sea turtles were once held until butchered for steaks and soup. At MM 56.2, we found the small “Florida Keys Hawk Watch” sign that we had been looking for. The hawk watch, located at Curry Hammock State Park, was the second attraction that the park ranger had recommended. With a left turn, we followed the park road into Little Crawl Key on the ocean side. Because of ongoing construction of a parking lot and interior road, we were confused about where to go. A detour took us in a loop towards the shoreline and then back to the two-story building where HawkWatch International had two interns working. The non-profit organization based in Salt Lake City, UT monitors and protects birds of prey and their environments.

From mid-September to mid-November, an estimated 26,000 migrating raptors move through the Keys as they head to Cuba and beyond. Taking advantage of the funneling effect that the Keys have, the HawkWatch staff use this station to survey and band the raptors. Seventeen different raptor species have been observed at this site, including Merlins, American Kestrels and Peregrine Falcons. At the time we visited, the 2004 raptor count was 11,388. Yesterday was a slow day with 12 counted (including one bald eagle). Band recovery locations were marked on a large colorful map of North America. A staff member allowed us to look into her telescope to see a Merlin sitting on a telephone pole. The bird of prey didn’t appear to be carrying a passport.

Departing the state park, we made a left turn onto Highway 1. For a short distance, we were skirting Long Point Key before entering Fat Deer Key. Southwest of this island was Key Colony Beach, one of the five incorporated cities on the Keys. The small town claims to have 21 tennis courts for its 800 residents. Near MM 54, we noticed a bike path to the right of the highway. Our shoulder seemed to be diminishing so we were contemplating whether to hop onto the path. After we crossed the 300-foot Vaca Cut Bridge, we had seen enough. Now on the island of Vaca Key, the highway expanded to four lanes with no shoulders. In terms of congestion, Marathon with 10,000 residents is comparable to Key Largo. Battling very heavy traffic, we bailed out to the path which at times looked more like a street-side walkway. Unlike Key Largo, this segment of bike path had few trees and shrubs to hamper visibility.

This rather long, five-mile key was named for the manatees. From Spanish, the word Vaca translates to cow. The Spaniards referred to the marine mammals as sea cows. The bike path took us by the two-mile long Marathon airstrip. At the airport, you could tandem skydive with a trainer strapped to your back. This type of skydiving is designed to provide personalized instruction in freefall and parachute control with minimal ground training. Thanks, but no thanks! A few minutes after 2 PM, we started looking for a place to eat. At MM 52.3, we stopped at Gary’s Sports Cafe. While taking in some college football games, we enjoyed a hearty meal with two pitchers of iced tea. Thinking ahead to our evening meal, we had the waitress fill two of our water bottles with iced tea.

Returning to our bike path was no easy matter. We had earlier crossed the four lanes to reach the restaurant. Without a nearby traffic light or center line, we waited several minutes before dashing across. Whew! Continuing southwest, we passed by a Greyhound Bus Station. The red, white and blue buses saved us a lot of trouble in Canada by transporting some badly needed bike supplies. From Alaska to Florida, we saw these buses everywhere! At the west end of Marathon near MM 48, the four lanes necked down to two lanes with no shoulders. The bike path continued to be our savior. Just before MM 47, we entered Knight Key which was our destination for the day. The campground, name after the key, was on the ocean side so we had another challenge to get across the street.

Once on the entrance drive, we stopped to pay $33 for our campsite with electricity. The operator informed us that since it was the off season, the restaurant on the grounds was closed. We were told that with the exception of tent spaces, all lots were booked for the month of February. Until then, there were a number of the RVs and boats being stored at the site. We pedaled a few loops around before picking a spot among the many vacant sites. Worried about the mosquitoes, we chose a location about one hundred yards from the shoreline. We were just across from the intersection of 50 Amps Drive and Sunset Drive. After pitching our tent, we showered and washed our clothes.

With an expected sunset of 6:45 PM, we begin preparing our macaroni and cheese dinner at 5 PM. While eating, something started biting our arms so we applied some repellant. The tiny flies that were annoying us were less than a 1/16th of an inch long but had an appreciable bite. Later, the husband-and-wife team that managed the campground stopped by on their hybrid bicycles. After checking to see how we were doing, they quizzed us briefly about our trip. When we noted the small biting flies that were flying around, the couple identified them as no-see-ums. Also known as sandflies or biting midges, the minute biting insects are found along sea coasts and begin dining on blood around dusk or dawn. When an itchy bite from a no-see-um is scratched, the wound can take twice as long to heal.

Itching to connect to the internet, we learned that there were no phones lines in the area. So, we used our cell phone to link to the web. Although the connection speed was very slow, we were able to retrieve email and some national news. Surprisingly, we were even able to listen to portions of an internet radio broadcast featuring a Kansas State football game. Regrettably, the play of our beloved team was similar to our cellular linkage: slow with frequent stalling. After we had finished washing the dishes, we walked to the beach to watch the nature show. For a few minutes, we watched intently as the sun approached the horizon.

The Florida Keys have some of the most fabulous sunsets on earth but you have to be on the ocean side to see them. The previous night we had missed the show by camping on the bay side. On this evening, we were the only ones on the beach to watch the sky turn a fiery orange color. What a special moment! As the sun fell below the horizon, we realized that we couldn’t have come up with a more fitting end to our tour’s final evening. Because it was a Saturday evening, the mood in the campground seemed to be more festive. Our neighbors across the way were playing Mexican mariachi music until 11:30 PM. Given that the clocks were to be set back one hour the next day, we weren’t quite as concern about the annoying background noise.

Miles cycled – 52.7

October 31, 2004

On a somewhat clammy morning, we awoke from our night dreams to a dream of a lifetime. This was the day we long awaited but never wanted to come. As we stirred around the campsite, our feelings ranged from the giddiness of imminent goal attainment to the sullenness associated with inevitable finality. Our morning meal consisted of snacks and energy bars. It wasn’t an appreciable breakfast but we hoped to find more food during our ride. Once we broke camp, we rode over to the beach for one more look at the gorgeous view. Our eyes followed the incredible long span of 7 Mile Bridge as it disappeared into the west horizon. With the aid of the morning sun, the bridge had a whitewashed appearance. Except for a short high-rise section in the middle, the long bridge rises only 25 feet up from the water.

Yearning to cross the considerable bridge before traffic volumes picked up, we pried ourselves away from the spectacular setting. Leaving the campgrounds, we met a lady from the Irish Hills area of southern Michigan who was tickled to meet us. Thanks to the return to standard time, our morning was filled with a bright and shiny sky at 7:20 AM. When we reached Highway 1, we waited two minutes for a break in the eastbound traffic before making our left turn. Since there was an occasional westbound car speeding towards the bridge, we took the bike path a quarter mile to the bridge’s entrance.

At MM 47 and just 500 feet from the bridge entrance, we noticed a highway marker with the caption, “DRIVE SAFELY.” Reaching the start of the bridge, there were four more of the round signs, spaced about two feet apart. The three-foot high signs are Florida’s version of the standardized safety/memorial marker. The inconspicuous, 12-inch diameter dots are along both sides of Highway 1 throughout the Keys. At speeds of 45 to 55 mph, it is doubtful very many drivers notice the signs. Cruising along at 15 mph speed, we could read the small print below, “In Memory of – Name Here.” Although the signs were subtle in appearance, they certainly drew our attention before a significant bridge crossing.

Before taking on the 7 Mile Bridge, we stopped to read the various signs. For the old span to the north, there was the posting, “No Motorized Vehicles.” While the newer 7 Mile Bridge sails across the water without the aid of islands or causeways, the older version connects with Pigeon Key two miles to the west. Just past the five-acre island, a section of the bridge is missing which precludes advancement. The old bridge is now used as a fitness path and fishing pier. It is also possible to bike to the tiny island. We chose not to take the four mile detour as we suspected that our tires were not durable enough to survive the broken glass. The old bridge appeared to be impossibly narrow for those yesteryears of two-lane traffic.

Another marker noted the historical significance of this area of the Keys. Before construction of the Key West Extension of the Florida East Coast Railway (FECR) began in 1905, there was very little inter-coastal commerce on the Keys. At the time, Key West was Florida’s largest city with 17,000 residents as a number of its inhabitants were involved with shipwreck salvaging and military installations. Henry Flagler, a tycoon who reaped his fortune through the startup of Standard Oil, moved to Jacksonville, FL in 1878 and literally developed the state’s whole east coast for two decades. The absence of a deep water seaport on the Atlantic coast lured Flagler to build a railway to Key West.

From 1906 to 1911, up to 5,000 workers in 82 camps simultaneously toiled on the bridge and railway construction. The very ground that we slept on the night before was once a major camp for workers. As result of lessons learned from the vulnerability of the quarterboats, substantial housing complexes were built on Knight Key and Pigeon Key. With Flagler’s health failing in late 1911, the crews worked around the clock to complete the extension to FECR. In a 1912 celebratory ride, a private railcar delivered the 82-year-old Flagler to Key West. The nearly blind industrialist had lived his dream. While one nation backed the construction of the Panama Canal during the same era, one man spent half of his wealth to complete the Overseas Railway.

For the next 23 years of rail service, the demand for an automobile route increased. Cars could reach Key West only through 41 miles of ferrying. As previously noted, World War One veterans were in the process of building the necessary bridges when the 1935 hurricane struck. Remains of eight concrete block piers can still be seen on the bay side at MM 73. The storm also washed out 40 miles of the FECR rail beds but the bridges remained. For the Keys to survive, either a railroad or a highway had to exist. The highway won. Opened in 1938, much of road used the railroad right-of-way and bridges. To convert the rail bridges to highway standards, 20-foot wide concrete slabs with nine-inch high curbs were built over the existing structures.

From 1970 to 1983, wider bridges were built which eliminated the modified FECR bridges. Without these newer bridges, we would have been riding in the back of a pickup to Key West. While we grasped the interesting history of the Overseas Highway, the 7 Mile Bridge awaited us. Having photographed the two companion bridges, we carefully checked our three tires to make sure they were fully inflated and not leaking air. After chugging down big gulps of water, we pedaled onto the bridge’s wonderful wide shoulder. There was no turning back now! Similar to our experience on the Long Key Bridge, we were soon approaching a wind-aided speed of 20 mph. We could only wonder what it would be like to go the opposite direction. Confined to a five foot by seven mile space, Randall focused on keeping the tandem’s front wheel on an imaginary center line while Barb captured the moment with her right index finger.

For the first two miles of the bridge, we were crossing over Knight Key Channel. The old bridge on the right gradually becomes more distant as it veers towards Pigeon Key. For some unknown reason, the support piers in this old segment are a rectangular-block shaped instead of the concrete-arch configuration typically used in the FECR bridges. As we ventured further out, we were in awe of our abundant water setting. The shimmering sea with its various shades of blue was just incredible! Biking across 7 Mile Bridge gives cyclists a wonderful sense of tropical serenity. We couldn’t have picked a better time to cycle west on the bridge as there was only one vehicle headed to Key West for every 100 eastbound cars. It doesn’t get any better than this.

As the quaint little Pigeon Key came into view, we hardly noticed the upcoming high-rise segment ahead. Less than three miles out, we started climbing up the five to six percent slope. The tandem’s speed tapered to eight mph as we reached the apex near MM 44. At 70 feet above sea level, our emotions were now sky high. At the top we slowed to five mph to make it last as long as possible. Inevitably, gravity soon had us racing down the other side at 35 mph. The 7 Mile Bridge is the crown jewel of the Keys bridges. Opened in 1982, it is billed as the world’s longest segmental bridge. The structure’s 265 concrete spans, each 135 feet long, were built in Tampa and then barged to the Keys for assembly.

With our ascension over the bridge’s hump, we were riding over the Moser Channel of the Intracoastal Waterway. To our left, we could see Molasses Key, a small patch of land covered with mangrove trees. On our right, the FECR bridge gradually got closer to us. Because sections of the bridge are missing on either end, the span has been untouched by humans for two decades. Amazingly, there are a few trees growing on the old bridge. One cedar tree appeared to be about 20 feet tall. Past MM 41, we started seeing clusters of double-breasted cormorants. With no one to bother them, the black seabirds either roosted on the rusting side rail or stood on the concrete roadway.

A short distance later, we broke into laughter as we passed a missing section of the bridge. About six feet in from the gap’s edge, a dilapidated bicycle was resting on its side. Someone aboard a boat must have placed the bike at this inaccessible location. With the water gap at 50 feet, it didn’t seem possible that someone could have heaved the bike across. The way the wheels were bent out of shape, it almost looked as if someone had taken an “Evel Knievel jump” across the void. As we neared the shoreline of Little Duck Key, we saw a number of people fishing from the pier. The angler most distant from the shore was enjoying his seclusion as he was stretched out flat on the concrete surface. The closer we got to the shore, the denser the fishing poles became.

Upon reaching land, we pulled over to take one more look back at 7 Mile Bridge. The tandem’s odometers measured the total span at 6.8 miles so someone did some rounding up to derive the bridge’s name. Our trek was 26 minutes of cycling bliss. Once you have pedaled over it, you’ll want to do it again and again and again. Now in the Lower Keys region, the nice highway shoulder that disappeared in Marathon was back. We continued a short half mile across the narrow Little Duck Key before crossing the 800-foot bridge over the Little Duck-Missouri Channel. As expected, the skinny Missouri Key followed. The tiny island was named by railroad workers from Missouri.

Our next bridge was a quarter mile span that took us over the Missouri-Ohio Channel. The neighboring FECR bridge was just eight feet away on our right. The converted fishing pier was packed with anglers. Some even had tents set up among the chairs and ice chests. It was a real family affair. Up next was Ohio Key, a circular island one-third of a mile long. This small piece of land hosts Sunshine Key, a 400-site camping resort. After pedaling across the 1,000-foot bridge over Ohio-Bahia Honda Channel, we found ourselves on Bahia Honda Key (pronounced ba-EE-uh OWN-dah). The name translates from Spanish to “deep bay.”

When we reached MM 38, our two-lane highway transitioned to a four-lane route with a ten-foot grassy median. Unlike previous four-lane roads we had seen in the Keys, we continued to have a nice shoulder. At MM 36.8, we saw the sign for the entrance to Bahia Honda State Park. The 524 acre park covers the entire two-mile long island. Yearning for a diversion, we decided to explore the park. Because of the steady stream of cars from Key West, the left turn was quite challenging. After paying $2 at the park booth, we biked a half mile to the island’s southwest shore. Parking next to the boat ramp, we took in the terrific view. Of all the state parks on the Keys, Bahia Honda is said to be the most picturesque.

The Bahia Honda Channel west of the island has some of the deepest waters in the archipelago. The combination of abundant, white sand beaches with the neighboring deep channel provides an incredible array of colors. We walked a short distance down a nature trail to get a closer look at the FECR bridge. The rusting structure was used from 1908 to 1972. Because of water up to 25 feet deep, a considerable trestle was built on the concrete piers. The trestle, which peaked at a dazzling 65 feet above the water, was too narrow to accommodate a 20-foot roadway on the track bed. Amazingly, the problem was solved by building the concrete slabs on top of the camelback-shaped trestle. Like 7 Mile Bridge, Long Key Bridge and Pigeon Key, this site was declared a national landmark.

To the north of the old steel structure are the modern, twin bridges which carry four lanes of traffic. Before the newer bridges were completed, we could only imagine the anxiety of driving a car (let alone riding a bicycle) over the skeletal frame. A section of the old bridge is missing to discourage any current-day daredevils. Back at the boat ramp, we noticed a sign with the catchy phrase, “How Do You Keep From Losing Your Keys?” The large display by the National Marine Sanctuary Program provides tips on how to protect the barrier reef ecosystem. Established in 1990, the marine sanctuary is a 2,800 square nautical mile area surrounding the Keys. While some maps refer to the waters north of the Lower Keys as the Gulf of Mexico, the marine sanctuary boundary extends eight to ten miles north of the Key Islands.

As we returned to Highway 1, we encountered an older lady riding her hybrid bicycle down the park road. Greeting us with a big smile, she had a folded lawn chair strapped to her shoulder. Because of the maddening crush of eastbound cars, we waited several minutes for an opening to get back onto our main highway. Now 9 AM, the traffic volume seemed to climb higher just like the sun. We wondered if Key West’s elevation would gain a foot or two with this massive flight of vehicles. Continuing west, we had a slight climb to ascend the 1.25 mile bridge over Bahia Honda Channel. As the Keys’ third longest bridge, it offered splendid views of the waters, neighboring islands and the FECR bridge.

Following the long bridge, a sign next to MM 35 noted that we were on West Summerland Key. Before the FECR construction put in fill material, this mile-long island was originally three separate patches of land called the Spanish Harbor Keys. At the west end of the key, we saw a brown sign that cautioned motorists of key deer habitat ahead. Found only in the Lower Keys region, the small deer are no larger than a medium size dog. Because of habitat encroachment and road kills, the 400 remaining key deer are listed as an endangered species. Auto collisions account for 40 to 90 kills per year, about 70 percent of the annual mortality. Because Key West visitors are in such a hurry to get to their cherished island and then back to the Miami Airport, the maximum traffic speed in the primary habitat area is strictly enforced.

Our next bridge was a half mile span that stretched across the Spanish Harbor Channel. Near the start of the bridge, the reduced speed limit was posted, “Day 45 – Night 35.” On our right, the old bridge’s railings and curbs were completely stripped away. Because most of the bridge was inaccessible, the flat concrete was an extremely popular hangout for birds. With numbers approaching a thousand, the collection of seabirds was the largest we had ever seen in one area. Wow! Just to the north of the Lower Keys is the Great White Heron National Wildlife Refuge which was established to offer protection for endangered migratory birds that nest here in the winter.

Exiting the bridge, we were now on Big Pine Key, the second largest of the Key Islands. With 6,500 acres, the rectangular-shaped land mass is about one-third the size of Key Largo. Since this large key is to the northwest, Highway 1 makes a considerable bend to the north and follows a mile-long peninsula. This narrow strip of land had quite an infrastructure for protecting key deer. The first attention grabber was a yellow caution sign with one-foot high letters, “DRIVE WITH CAUTION – YOU ARE ENTERING AN ENDANGERED SPECIES AREA – SPEED KILLS KEY DEER.” On both sides of the four-lane highway were black, chain-link fences. At ten feet in height, the barrier looked like it could deter even regular size deer. A subsequent sign indicated the high potential for deer crossings in the next 3.5 miles. Hmmmm, we wondered if the fence was effective.

As we neared the primary mass of Big Pine Key, the four lanes necked down to two. We then stopped to check out the grated decking that was recessed into the highway at a side road and at the end of the peninsula. The grid of one-inch triangles appeared to be deer proof. Although the decking looked less threatening than the cattle guards we encountered in open range, we elected to walk our rig over it. Beyond the “deer-guard crossing,” the highway curved back to the west and our shoulder immediately disappeared. Given the volume of traffic, we shifted over to the neighboring bike-path/walkway.

Pedaling to the center of town, we caught up with four pedestrians that were walking down the path. While waiting to cross an intersection, the group asked about our trip. One of the men gave us his business card and said, “Call me if you have any problems; my cell phone number is on the back.” We were gracious of his offer but were thinking that with our ride being 99.6 percent complete, we will surely do okay. His business card however was unlike any we had ever seen. The primary heading was Omar – Baltimore, MD – phone number – TATTOO and Miscellaneous Services. Among the 21 services listed were Psychoanalysis, Urinalysis, Professional Rag Picker, Bridge Demolition, Used Cars, Bongo Drums, Saloons Emptied and Tigers Tamed.” Talk about a jack-of-all-trades!?

While these men headed for the Cracked Egg Café, we hesitated because there already a dozen people waiting in line. Thinking that we could find a less busy restaurant, we started zigzagging through the city. We were also hoping that our off-the-beaten-path excursion might provide us with a key deer sighting. Making a right turn onto Key Deer Boulevard, we pedaled northwest in a leisurely pace. Once we distanced ourselves from Highway 1, we enjoyed the slow pace of life as the large key has a causal and relaxed atmosphere. We were getting a lot of friendly waves from the locals. Some joggers along the way decoded our AK 2 FL sign and then extended their congratulations. After pedaling one mile, we had passed the small business district and were in the heart of the residential area. We then made a right turn onto South Street, a rough narrow road. A mile to the east, the street ended at the bay’s shoreline.

Although there was a house that somewhat obscured our bay view, we paused a while to feel the cool breezes from the northeast. The shade from the tree-lined street was much appreciated. The pine tree which is the island’s namesake was among the mix of woody plants. Because of the varying limestone formations, pines are virtually nonexistent in the Middle and Upper Keys. To the northeast, the Keys consist of mounds of dead coral which is a fairly hard substrate for tree roots to penetrate. The oolitic limestone found in the Lower Keys and Miami is a softer, granular mix which was created from botanical and marine organisms.

Heading back west, we turned left onto Wilder Road. If we would have gone to the right, we would have ended up in the sparsely populated island of No Name Key. Now southbound, we noticed that a number of homes were sporting a gray concrete manatee in front of the yards. The realistic replicas, about five feet tall, were positioned on their tails and held a mailbox in their front flippers. It is traditional to dress them up for the holidays so we were seeing witches, warlocks and goblins. Ever see a manatee on a broom? The mailbox stands were so tacky they were cool.

Returning to Highway 1, it didn’t appear that we were going to find a restaurant. There were now about 20 people waiting outside of the Cracked Egg Café. Although this unincorporated community of 5,000 was said to be a shopping hub for the Lower Keys, we weren’t seeing many stores. So, we turn right onto the path and continued west on our way out of town. A brown sign created by the Key Deer Protection Alliance was posted near the highway. They were displaying the road kill statistics for key deer, “Total Last Year – 91 and So Far This Year – 55.” At the outskirts of Big Pine, we saw a convenience store and our stomachs responded with a growl. Only problem was that it was on the opposite side of the highway.

After several minutes, we darted across. Inside the store, business was brisk with tourists departing from a Fantasy Fest weekend at Key West. Having paid for our sandwiches, chips, and popsicles, we went outside to sit in a shady spot north of the store. Now just past 10 AM, the 80 degree heat was taking its toll on us. Following our meal, we went to the restrooms to wipe our arms and legs with wet paper towels. A sign in the restroom seemed to point to a problem with the rude revelers departing Key West. Using 89 words, the full page note opened with, “Dear Fantasy Fest Partiers,” and then basically promoted the practice of common courtesy.

Back outside, we reapplied a layer of sunscreen before positioning our tandem at the side of the highway. The eastbound traffic was literally bumper to bumper now. Although a traffic light a few blocks to the east was regulating the flow, the cars and SUVs were packing in very tightly when stopping. A couple of passing pickups were pulling floats that had been in the parade in Key West. After a few minutes, we finally got a motorist to hold up briefly so that we could squeeze through and then yield to the westbound traffic. Whew! With the 700-foot bridge over North Pine Channel just a third of a mile away, we ramped up to speed quickly using the shoulder that had thankfully reappeared.

Beyond the bridge was a three-quarter mile causeway which connected to the 800-foot bridge over South Pine Channel. During our stop at the convenience store, Barb left a phone message with a couple we chanced upon during our Whitehorse to Watson Lake segment. On June 10th we had just achieved our first Continental Divide crossing and were about to reach our first 1,000 miles when we stopped at a lodge for a snack. After our meal, we met Joe and Linda from Little Torch Key, FL who was traveling north in their Greyhound-sized RV. When exchanging business cards, we realized that we would be biking near their home. Their travel season went to late October. At that time, it appeared that with our mid-October goal we would miss them. Halfway across the causeway, our cell phone started ringing.

As we were barreling down the narrow strip of land, Barb retrieved the phone from the saddle bag and took the call. It was Joe! He was inviting us over to their house. While Barb received directions from Joe, we crossed over South Pine Channel and soon coasted onto Little Torch Key. This long island is three miles north to south but only a half mile east to west. Once onto Little Torch, it would have been prudent to stop and get our bearings. But since we were “flying with the wind” at 20 mph, it was tough to give up our momentum. In only 90 seconds, we had zipped across Little Torch and were riding across the Torch Key Viaduct to reach Middle Torch Key. When Barb asked Randall where we were, he reported, “We just passed Middle Key Torch Drive.” Barb then yelled, “Stop!!!”

Now we were in a dilemma. We had overshot our turn by a half mile and had to turn around. With a lucky break in traffic, we pedaled a quick U-turn on the two lane highway. Having wondered earlier what it would be like to go the other direction, we had our answer. Yuk! We struggled to maintain an eight to nine mph speed into the wind. It was like riding with the brakes on. When we reached our desired left turn onto Highway 4A, traffic was too heavy to make the turn. So, we kept pedaling but at a speed of five mph. After going 1000 FT out of our way, we finally had a sufficient break. Using our forward momentum, we were able to make a very quick turn back to the west.

Making our belated turn, we biked 1.5 miles north to reach Joe and Linda’s home. When we pulled up to their house, they were moving some stuff from their RV to storage. They had arrived home from their month’s long journey two days earlier and were still settling in for the winter. Having met by chance four and half months earlier in the remote Yukon Territories, we were elated to see each other. We both had extraordinary tales to tell. While we had our share of equipment problems, a wheel come off their SUV when they was pulling it behind the RV. Because the RV had so much power, they drove for miles with a three-wheel SUV before realizing something was amiss. Wildfires also delayed their travels at times. We considered ourselves very fortunate to get through Alaska before the fires became a factor.

While reminiscing about our first meeting, the couple served up some delicious ham sandwiches. We especially remembered the occupation that was listed on their business card, “Nomads.” Joe and Linda retired to Florida a few years back after spending several years in Michigan. They raved about how the Keys’ housing prices had been jumping up 20 to 30 percent annually. After we showed them a few photos of our trip, they talked about their day trip to the Fantasy Fest. While the setting was fairly rowdy, they particularly enjoyed the parade. Lance Armstrong was riding on one of the floats. Having had a wonderful visit for 90 minutes, we realized that we had to move on to meet our October 31st arrival goal.

To complete our three-mile roundtrip we pedaled back down Highway 4A, the only way in and out of Little Torch Key. This island is the first of three long land masses that are staggered to the northwest. Of the other two, Big Torch Key is too far north to be part of the Overseas Highway. The keys are name after the torchwood trees that are seen in the area. The resinous branches of the trees make excellent torches. Arriving at Highway 1, we made a right turn to get back to where we were previously. Mile Marker 28 was located halfway across the 900-foot long Torch Key Viaduct. After a short hop over Middle Torch Key, we rode the 700-foot long bridge over the Torch-Ramrod Channel.

Reaching land again with Ramrod Key, we were truly in an island hopping mode. Next up was the mile long bridge over Nile Channel. Underneath our last lengthy bridge of the day, the wheel assembly of a rail car can still be seen in the water. With the sun overhead at 1:30 in the afternoon, the solar reflection gave the pristine waters vividly blue colors. With the succession of three bridges, each about a quarter mile long, we pedaled over Kemp Channel, Bow Channel and Park Channel. These three concrete links connected our route over the mostly residential islands of Summerland Key, Cudjoe Key, Sugarloaf Key and Park Key at MM 18. Halfway across Cudjoe Key, the highway curved to the southwest to get the proper orientation to reach Key West.

The major attraction on Sugarloaf Key is located a half mile northwest of the highway. In the 1920s, a real estate investor named Richter Perky was frustrated with the abundant mosquitoes in the area. He decided to bring in some bats to feed on them. A multi-level tower was built to house the nocturnal critters. There are some residents who consider the 50-foot high tower to be the first condo in the Keys. Several hundred bats were brought down from New Jersey and placed in the bat tower. At the first sunset, the bats awoke, flew off and never returned. Some witty locals claimed that the mosquitoes ate the bats!

On our map, the splintered land masses beyond the tiny Park Key looked like randomly placed shards of glass. The subsequent island hopping meant we still had a lot of water gaps to ride over. The next four bridges, covering a combine span of 2,200 feet, took us over channels named North Harris, Harris Gap, Harris and Lower Sugar Loaf. The only island of significance in that sequence was Lower Sugar Loaf Key. After the fourth bridge, we reached Saddle Bunch Key at MM 15. This uninhabited island is covered with red mangroves and has an elaborate network of sandy lagoons. To navigate the rather fragmented key, four bridges with a combine length of 3,200 feet were needed to cross four channels that were all named Saddle Brunch.

Once through the Saddle Brunch area, we pedaled over an unnamed key which consisted of causeways. The only thing separating the expansive waters was the road itself, a somewhat unique perspective when you’re on a bicycle. Narrow patches of land covered with lush foliage meandered through the water on both sides of the two-lane highway. The land was less than a foot above sea level as water was seen lapping through the two-foot high sea shrubs. After passing by some sparkling lagoons, we crossed the 2,100 foot bridge over Shark Channel. To our right, we could see the mile long peninsula of Shark Key which featured 70 large houses in a gated community. The long sliver of land was named by early surveyors for its shark-like shape.

Another short causeway connected us to Big Coppit Key which is populated with families of servicemen. With our Camelbaks almost empty, we stopped at a convenience store on this island. While reloading with ice and water, we noticed a curious sign posted in front of the beer cooler, “No Alcohol Sales Between 4 AM & 7 AM.” Although the two cups of ice cost us four dollars, we welcomed the cool relief. In Florida, you can’t spell “priceless” without I-C-E. Continuing on our way, a church promotion played off the neighboring Key West event with, “Jesus Fest Every Sunday.” On the southwest edge of the key, we reached a momentous sign, MM 10. Let the countdown begin!!! We stopped for the essential photo op.

A quarter mile long bridge took us over Rockland Channel and onto East Rockland Key. As we followed more causeways, the surrounding emerald-colored water was now dotted with seagrass meadows. The seascape was so dazzling! The land bridge took us into Boca Chica Key where the highway expanded to four lanes while maintaining a shoulder. At MM 9, a promotional sign stated, “No Jacket Required.” With temperatures now at a very humid 86, we certainly didn’t require any outerwear. A golf-ball shaped tower on our left told us that we were passing through the Boca Chica Naval Air Station, one of the Navy’s premier pilot-training facilities. This area has sustained Navy activity since 1823. At MM 8, an overpass bridge took us up over Saratoga Avenue, the main road to the naval station.

The next water crossing was a half mile span over Boca Chica Channel which connected us with Stock Island. This key was named for the herds of cattle and pigs that were kept there a century ago. Beyond MM 6, the shoulder disappeared completely. With cars speeding past us at 55 to 65 mph, we decided to take the curvy bike path to the right. Because of urban sprawl, much of Stock Island is part of the Key West municipality. The main campus of Florida Keys Community College is located on the key. Passing by fast food restaurants and gas stations, it was evident that we were entering a populated area of 25,000 residents. Near MM 5, we crossed a 300 foot bridge over Cow Key Channel. With a short hop over Cow, we had reached the island of Key West.

Just beyond the bridge, the Overseas Highway splits as it enters the heart of Key West. The two four-lane forks rejoin after encircling the city. The southern fork runs along the south shore as South Roosevelt Boulevard while Highway 1 follows the north shore as North Roosevelt Boulevard. We elected to go with the busy north fork. At this point, the bike path changed to a concrete sidewalk. With just four miles to go and the traffic speeds now at 35 mph, we left the bike path and made the right turn onto North Roosevelt. As the street curved around to the northwest and then to the west, we passed by the motel we had reserved. Check-in would have to wait as we had some unfinished business to attend to.

Because it was a Sunday afternoon, traffic was somewhat lighter and motorists could get around us using the left lane without issue. At MM 3, we had our first verbal message as a local custom van passed us. The passenger yelled, “Get on the sidewalk!” Oh well, can’t please everybody all the time. Our presence on the sidewalk would have been quite intimidating to the mix of pedestrians enjoying an afternoon stroll. At MM 2.3, we went over the 200 foot bridge over Salt Run Channel. This was our 47th and final bridge in the Keys. The count included the 5 bridges we encountered on Card Sound Road (our alternate route to Key Largo). On Highway 1, one of the 42 bridges was an overpass over a street. For the 120 miles we rode on Keys highways, 19.3 miles was comprised of bridges or 16 percent of the total!

After passing by some marinas, we crossed over Palm Avenue at MM 1.5. Roosevelt Boulevard then changed to Truman Avenue as we were now heading southwest on a more comfortable two lane street. On our left, we pedaled by Bayview Park where young goblins and witches were gathered to show off their Halloween costumes. A short distance southwest, we arrived at Havana Street where MM 1 was posted. We dutifully lined up our rig next to the sign for the photo op. Continuing to the old downtown area of Key West, we passed by many homes and businesses with second floor balconies. The architecture reminded us of the French Quarter in New Orleans. Tin roofs, gingerbread trim, signature shutters and wraparound verandas were the norm. The former wreckers’ and shipbuilders’ homes are now high-end bed and breakfasts.

Given that the Fantasy Fest was over and that the weekend was winding down, there were just a few tourists out walking the streets. The sightseers we did encounter gave us a brief gaze as we appeared to be different, even by Key West’s wacko standards. As we went by fine Victorian mansions and quaint white frame cottages, we soon found ourselves being immersed into the town’s distinctive ambiance. In a way, the setting seemed to be more Caribbean than American. The area is known for its “whatever goes” attitudes as it attracts people with all sorts of backgrounds and ideas. Of the million tourists who visit each year, some drop in, some drop out and some just drop anchor.

With a blinding mid-afternoon sun in our faces, we trekked across the renowned Duval Street. Just a half block northwest was the Ernest Hemingway House where he wrote novels in the 1930s. Key West was also once home to such notables as Harry Truman, Tennessee Williams, Robert Frost and Jimmy Buffet. David Robinson was born here while his father served in the Navy. After pedaling 500 feet, we reached Whitehead Street, the second most prominent avenue in the old town section. At that point, we could turn left or right or go straight ahead. Making a right turn would keep us on Highway 1 where we could pause at the famed MM 0 sign next to the post office and the Monroe County Courthouse. While its northern terminus was 2,209 miles away in Fort Kent, ME, we had only traveled on 109 miles of this east coast route. However, Southernmost Point, not Mile Zero, was our planned endpoint.

If you’re going to the southernmost city of the continental United States, it only makes sense that you find the southernmost point in town. A landlocked concrete buoy, encircled in black, yellow and red stripes, officially locates the point and is probably the most photographed landmark in Florida. While we were pondering our next move, a couple in a car from New Jersey pulled along side of us. The husband leaned out of the passenger window and asked where we had biked from. After the man’s exclamation of “Are you SERIOUS,” Barb handed him a card. His next question was, “So where are you headed?” Upon confirming that we were going to Southernmost Point, they asked how long it would take us to get there. With Randall’s answer of “About ten minutes,” the couple indicated that they would meet us there.

Not having pre-arranged a welcoming reception at Southernmost Point, we suddenly felt important anticipating an impromptu rendezvous. With our giddiness meter already severely tilted off the scale, we pedaled straight ahead. In the wrong direction. Realizing our miscue, we continued southwest on Truman Avenue as we expected the streets to loop us back around. Along the way, we passed by a yellow stucco house with the sign, “Lofton B. Sands African Bahamian Museum and Resource Center.” African Americans and Caribbean Americans continue to live in this formerly segregated section of town. Through the center’s vintage photographs and memorabilia, the black community proudly displays their 200 year heritage on the island.

At Fort Street, our avenue came to an end so we made a left turn. We were now riding southeast along the boundary of the Truman Annex, one of five naval bases in the Key West area. Within the base is Fort Zachary Taylor. This historic site remained in Federal hands throughout the Civil War. About 300 Confederate ships were captured and held in the Key West Harbor during the war. The last active military role at the Truman Annex was during the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 when it housed radar facilities. Because of this naval base’s boundary, Key West’s colorful buoy does not have the true claim of the southernmost point. Fort Street ended at Amelia Street so we turned left back towards Whitehead. Having completed our half mile “oops” detour, we suddenly found ourselves heading southeast on Whitehead.

For the final quarter mile, our feelings were out of this world. In fact, it was somewhat like an out-of-body experience. A paragraph full of descriptive words wouldn’t come close to recounting how we felt. At a point 710 feet from our target, Barb digitally captured the red speck ahead that marked the point. At hundred feet, we stopped pedaling and coasted to the “finish point.” WE RAN OUT OF HIGHWAY!!! Ninety three miles of ocean separated us from Cuba. After starting out at 66.56 degrees latitude, we were now just 24.54 degrees above the equator. At 3:37 PM, we dismounted and staged our rig a respectful distance away from the buoy. There were three groups ahead of us waiting for their memorable photo op. On cue, the couple from New Jersey arrived and congratulated us on our accomplishment. The husband volunteered to be our cameraman.

Before long, the others in the area were eavesdropping, “They came down from where?!” As the tourists huddled around us with rapid fire questions, our turn for the photo shoot had arrived. Our new friend took our camera and shot us in 14 different poses. We shuffle around in different settings as our eleven-foot long rig was not an easy object to center. Even more challenging was the tremendous glare from the sun. Thankfully, our cameraman was quite authoritative as he directed the poses and angles. This was particularly helpful since twenty people were waiting patiently by the time we finished. Many looking on probably thought that our photographer was a reporter for a newspaper (and maybe that was his occupation, we don’t know).

As we rolled our tandem out of the way, the line of tourists spontaneously cheered and applauded us. Whether they were acknowledging our trek or happy that we’re no longer holding up the line, you be the judge. To savor our moment, we parked our rig on the sidewalk about 50 feet east of the buoy. A sign overhead posted the message, “No Panhandling Or Soliciting Zone.” Two homeless men nearby curiously examined our trailer. In a very broken, Caribbean accent, one of the men said he had walked to Key West from California. As tourists finished their photo sessions, they inevitably wandered over to our tandem to see what was so interesting.

For the next hour, we couldn’t budge as we soaked up the sudden notoriety. The cluster of inquisitive onlookers varied from 20 to 40. With Randall at the front wheel and Barb at the trailer wheel, we entertained the full gamut of questions. “Did you see any wild animals? How many flats did you have? Were you ever tired? What was it like biking through the hurricanes? So you’re biking back to Alaska now? Who do you think will win the election?” We had talked to people throughout the USA, so apparently that made us qualified to predict the presidential race! Soon, Barb pulled out our North America route map for all to see. Some studied it intently and then concurred that our adventure was “all downhill.” Others wondered why we didn’t avoid the mountains. A lady offered, “I get worn out just looking at the map!”

One man looked at our map and queried, “And you’ll still together? My wife would have killed me before the finish! That would be fun to try on a motorcycle but not a bicycle.” Several people shot photos of us next to the tandem. Some even wanted to be standing next to us for the shooting which was difficult with the surrounding mass of people. There were a number of Europeans quizzing us about our trip. One couple remarked that we missed a wild Fantasy Fest by arriving today. When we described our challenge of finding affordable lodging, they noted that they slept in their rental car the night before.

During our question and answer session, the Conch Train passed by. We could hear the tour guide announce, “Three hours earlier, there was a line of 400 people waiting to take their picture here.” As we have stated throughout our trip, “timing is everything.” Four times during the hour’s continuous flow of inquiries, we removed our sandals for a display of our tan lines. The contrasting colors of exposed and unexposed skin brought thunderous laughter. When asked where we lived previously, Barb noted that we were originally from Kansas. One lady then noted that she was from Nebraska. Assessing the heights of Barb and the Nebraska woman, a nearby man joked, “Those Midwest women really grow tall!”

As the questions slowed to a trickle, we both called our parents to report on our safe and successful ending. When we first disclosed our AK to FL intentions in the summer of 2003, our folks were expectedly bewildered as their thoughts varied from “they’re not serious” to “they’ll reconsider after a tough start” to “my daughter/son is biking all the way from Alaska to Florida!” Before leaving the Southernmost Point area, we scanned around one more time to absorb the setting. The tourists continued to flock to the buoy, each with their own story of how they arrived at this point. With our story and dream fulfilled, we pulled up the kickstand for a three-mile soft pedal to our motel.

Heading northeast on South Street, we crossed over Duval which ended at the Southernmost Hotel. The popular name shows up in 24 listings in the yellow pages, including Southernmost Kitchen & Bath and Southernmost Wedding Chapel. Following a tree-lined half mile, we turned right onto Reynolds Street to stay with the perimeter road around town. Reynolds soon curved into Atlantic Boulevard. While the shoulderless, two-lane streets weren’t very busy, we had the option of riding on a neighboring bike path if they were congested. For the most part, we stayed with the streets. One and a half miles from Southernmost Point, Atlantic ended at the four-lane South Roosevelt Boulevard where we turned right for a wondrous ride along the ocean.

As we chased our shadow, we were rudely confronted with a strong head wind. However, since our gingerly pace was only seven to eight mph, we didn’t allow the stiff, tropical breeze to spoil our afternoon of closure. We soon passed by Sunset Watersports’ shop where one could rent all sorts of water oriented gear including parasails. If water wasn’t your thing, then “all day” rental chairs were available for $5. After pedaling by several shaded picnic tables, we stopped to watch a kiteboarder in action. A young man was zipping across the water at 15 to 20 mph while riding a small surfboard. Ahead of this crazed adventurer was a large, rectangular kite which provided the incredible propulsion.

While gazing at the white, sandy beach and the ocean, we had every opportunity to follow the common practice of dipping our touring bike’s front wheel in the sea. Coast-to-coast cyclists traditionally “baptize” their rear wheel at the start and then the front wheel at the finish as a symbolic gesture. Since we didn’t start at a coast and the nearest source of moisture was patches of snow, soaking our bike gear into corrosive salt water now wasn’t appealing to us. Some of our friends predicted that we would be so fed up with cycling that we would want to toss our tandem out into the ocean. On the contrary, we enjoyed each and every minute of our tour.

While setting up to launch, a couple from Fort Lauderdale, FL was taking a stroll on the sidewalk. They knew that AR (not AK) stood for Arkansas so they were curious about our starting point. After we described the extent of our journey, the woman remarked, “For having come down from Alaska, you don’t look that tanned!” So Barb, once again displayed the amusing color contrast. We thought we were fairly dark. The layers and layers of sun screen kept us from really burning up. Continuing our ocean-side ride, we kept a watchful eye out for the westbound traffic. The motor scooters and fluorescent-pink colored taxis operators were going into a blinding sun.

As South Roosevelt curved back to the north, we passed by some deeply tanned youngsters that were snorkeling along. Upon returning to the northeast end of the island, we checked into our motel. We unhitched our trailer for the final time and then cooled off after completing our humid outing. With Alaska being four time zones to the west, we quickly placed a call to Barb’s Aunt Anne and Uncle Virgil in Fairbanks. We were very grateful for their support through a difficult start. Barb’s sister Susan in Leavenworth, KS was also acknowledged for the numerous instances she shipped us supplies and handled our mail. We walked to Denny’s next door for our festive dinner. Although we ate hearty meals, we skipped dessert as we began our transition to a non-touring diet. Having realized our vision, we retired for the evening to dream a new dream.

Miles cycled – 61.8

November 1-6, 2004

Following a continental breakfast offered by our motel, we began November by putting the finishing touches on our press release. Barb also left a phone message with the local daily paper, The Citizen, as we were hoping that they would feature our story. We then emailed our story to all of the newspapers that covered us during our journey. The update that we sent out, follows.

On October 31st, 2004, Randall & Barb Angell of Oakland County, Michigan completed their dream of bicycling across North America. Riding their tandem bike from Alaska to Florida, they began their adventure on May 20, 2004 at the Arctic Circle, north of Fairbanks and reached Key West on a balmy, Halloween afternoon. Their 165 day, 7,100 mile journey took them through diverse terrain, cultures and weather. Having crossed the Continental Divide 15 times, they have enjoyed scenic settings from the Rocky Mountains to the grassy plains and finished with a dramatic Atlantic Ocean vista.

To prepare for this trip, they sold their house in Michigan and quit their jobs. Why would two automotive supplier engineers leave everything behind to bike across the country? Simply because, they love to travel and especially by bicycle. On their tandem, they saw things at a much slower pace than a motorist does so they were able to absorb more along the way. Having taken over 16,000 photos, they have documented their adventure with a daily journal that is posted on their website, www.TEAMANGELL.com.

During the course of this trip, the Angell’s raised funds for Habitat for Humanity. They are hopeful that they can raise the $60,000 needed to build one Habitat house in Oakland County, Michigan. The donations to their cause can be made through the Habitat link on the TeamAngell website or a check can be mailed to: HFHOC, Attn: Bicycle Adventure, 14 Judson Street, Pontiac, MI 48342.

Of the 24 newspapers that covered our trip, at least five of them had a follow up story. Once the press release was distributed, we sent several emails to the many well-wishers who followed our adventure through our web site. Their thoughts and prayers were very much appreciated during our arduous journey. At 1 PM, we received a return call from The Citizen. The overwhelmed reporter was more than happy to publish something if we emailed our photo of Southernmost Point. With the coverage of the recent Fantasy Fest and the election the next day, the newspaper’s staff was quite busy. The reporter enlightened us with, “You won’t believe it but we have a hotly contested battle in the school board election.” The following day, our photo and caption appeared in the Mile Markers section of the paper. To view, click Mile Markers.

With the afternoon drawing to a close, we took a break from our correspondence so that we could check out the incomparable Key West sunset. Starting out on foot, we strolled several blocks on North Roosevelt before stopping for dinner at Wendy’s. Following our meal, we took the Bone Island Shuttle for the final two miles west. The name Key West is actually a corruption of “cayo hueso” which translates to “bone island.” Early Spanish explorers reported finding a number of human skeletons on the island so today’s local businesses readily embrace this unpleasant name for the key. Unique names can be seen throughout the area. As we passed a marina, we saw a boat with the arrogant name, “None Of Your Business.”

Our bus driver digressed as he related how relieved he was that the Fantasy Fest was over. Although his double shifts were grueling, he didn’t mind the overtime pay he received. Departing the bus near Mallory Square, we headed directly to the popular viewing area for sunsets. Each evening, thousands of visitors and locals gather at Mallory Square Dock to experience a glorious nightfall while being entertained by two dozen street vendors and performers. Jugglers, palm readers, contortionists and musicians all vie for the attention and donations of the many spectators who begin gathering about an hour before the “sunset fest.”

When we reached the dock, we were surprised to find a huge Holland America cruise ship blocking the view. Cruise ships were not allowed to dock at Key West during the Fantasy Fest so naturally this vessel took advantage of the expired restriction. As we peered around the cruise ship, some of the crowd was already starting to disperse. Although the sun had not yet dipped below the water, the wonderful fiery-orange background was missing because of a bank of clouds on the horizon. While the clouds and ocean darkened to a grayish-blue hue, we could see the schooner, Western Union in the distant waters. The tall-mast ship with its unfurled white sails was quite majestic. Conceding the dismal show of sunset colors, we hoped for a better display the following evening.

Following the sunset fest, we immersed ourselves into the Old Town district. On our way to Clinton Square Market Mall, we passed by the Key West Aquarium. This historic site was built in 1934 by the Works Progress Administration and quickly became the area’s first major attraction. In the small mall, we stopped at Sweets of Paradise for chilling dairy treats. When the confectionery’s operator learned of our bike trip, he implored, “You have to go upstairs to the planetarium and ask the man there about his mom’s bike trip.” Hopping up the stairs, we found that the planetarium was already closed for the day. We then planned to arrive earlier the next day.

Departing the mall, we went one block northeast to begin the “Duval Crawl.” The main thoroughfare is lined with art galleries, boutiques, taverns, T-shirt shops and tree-shaded courtyard eateries. Typical of a tourist town, the shopping is pricey but the offerings are extreme with everything from hand-rolled cigars to tropical collars for your pets. After refraining from souvenir purchases for the past five months, we suddenly had the urge to splurge. Fortunately for us, some vendors were overstocked following the recent festival and were selling many items for half price. Some shirt purchases allowed us to “wear” our memories for years to come.

Continuing down Duval, we watched as a young man holding a lantern was leading a small group. The guide for the captivating Ghost Tour was busy recounting the stories of haunted houses, active cemeteries and legendary points of interests. In the1860s, wrecking and the Civil War made Key West the largest and richest city in Florida and the wealthiest town per capita in the nation. A number of the inhabitants salvaged shipwrecks from nearby Florida reefs. The town had an unusually high concentration of fine furniture and chandeliers which the locals used in their own homes after retrieving them from wrecks.

Key West is appealing for all types of folks who seek individual freedom. In some of the shop windows, we saw the “One Human Family” symbol. Key West adopted this diversity motto as it reflects the acceptance of the island’s large gay population and gay tourists. Also seen along Duval Street are the Conch Republic monikers. In 1982, residents of this free-spirited island tried to “secede” from the USA. This publicity stunt was prompted after the Border Patrol setup a roadblock just south of Florida City to catch smugglers and illegal aliens. The slow inspection was a disaster for tourism. The town’s mayor (portrayed as the Prime Minister) declared “war” against the USA and then quickly surrendered (after one minute), and applied for foreign aid (in the amount of one billion dollars). The roadblock and inspection station were soon removed. After touring one of the nation’s wackiest streets, we bused back to the motel to complete our day.

By the time we started our second full day in Key West, the election process was in full swing. We had planned to be back in Michigan in time to vote but it didn’t work out. While eating breakfast at the motel, we watched the ongoing election coverage. The European tourists also seemed curious about the Americans going to the polls. One asked us, “Who do you think will win the presidential race?” When we were hesitant to answer, the young man offered, “Well, it doesn’t really matter; a monkey could run that office.” Speechless, we figured that the foreign visitor was certainly living Key West’s free-spirited attitude. To get the scoop on the elections, we read The Citizen. We were tickled to find our photo and a caption in the local newspaper.

After checking our email, we put our front pannier bags on the tandem and started pedaling southwest on North Roosevelt. A few blocks down, we stopped at Home Depot and purchased some pipe insulation. As we should have expected, the cylindrical-shaped padding was really thin. In this temperate climate, the average temperature during the winter is only 13 degrees lower than in the summer. There is no known record of frost, ice, sleet, or snow in Key West. We stuffed the insulation into our panniers and continued southwest one mile before turning right on Frances Street. After pedaling by some quaint houses with white picket fences we were now at the dead center of Old Town.

Following two left turns, we found ourselves on Passover Lane and at the entrance to Key West Cemetery. When we first ventured to Key West by car in 1993, we found this sacred site to be quite memorable. This was one stop worth repeating. A stroll through this historic graveyard (established in 1847) can tell as much about Key West’s quirky characters as any history lesson. The whitewashed above-ground tombs and statues are fascinating. Passing by an ornate wrought iron fence, we noticed a crypt that had the epitaph, “God Was Good To Me” carved in wood. A neighboring headstone inscription read, “At Least I Know Where He’s Sleeping Tonight”. Perhaps the most hilarious message was on a large white crypt with a facing tablet. Pearl, a local hypochondriac, had the last word with her marker, “I Told You I Was Sick.”

Hopping back on our tandem, we pedaled northwest on Elizabeth Street. We found the narrow avenues to be quite comfortable as pedestrians and bicycles seemed to out number the cars. The flowers and landscaping in some of the private yards were incredibly beautiful. Reaching a sandy beach at the north end of Simonton Street, we paused to gaze at the neighboring crystal blue water. Surprisingly, there was sign posted that warned, “High Bacterial Levels – Health Risk at this Time – Swimming Not Recommended.” Resuming our ride with a short jaunt on Front Street, we turned left onto Duval Street for one last ride through Old Town.

Causally pedaling southeast, we took in the sights and sounds. One man standing in front of a shop yelled, “Hey, aren’t you the couple that was in the paper today?!” He followed with, “Aren’t you tired?” We caught up with a couple of locals on bicycles that were meandering down Duval. One was pulling a two-wheel cart that was carrying a folding chair among other things. The wheels on the trailer were so warped that it wobbled down the street erratically. A second rider was apparently a basket weaver as he had baskets dangling all around his single bike. Even more interesting was the skeleton he had seated up behind him. So many times, we have heard the motorists’ comment, “She’s not pedaling!” In this instance, we felt that the message fit perfectly.

At the southeast end of Duval, we jogged a block over to Southernmost Point for another look. Oh the memories!! We then made a bee-line to Key West Airport where we had a mid-size car reserved. While Barb checked in with the rental car agent, Randall began disassembling the tandem. A special wrench loosened up the eight couplings that held the bike together. The gear and chains were removed and the cables were disconnected. To protect the loose components in the rental car’s truck, we applied the Home Depot pipe insulation to the tandem’s tubing. Newspapers collected from the last couple of days were also used as packing material. Within 20 minutes, we had everything loaded up. We then drove back to the motel.

Following an early dinner, we took a bus to Mallory Square for one more viewing of the sunset fest. We were happy to see that the cruise ship was no longer in the area. However, our first order of business was a return to Clinton Square Market Mall. We arrived at the planetarium to find a man who was in his sixties. We were thinking, “His mom must have done this bike trip a long, long time ago.” Upon hearing our story, the man said, “My mom, Charlotte Hamlin, will want to talk with you. I’ll give her a call.” With no answer from Charlotte, the son encouraged us to view the fifteen minute planetarium program called, “The Ultimate Encounter.”

After expressing interest in the show, a lady led us to the twenty-foot domed room. She cautioned us, “This program portrays a Christian perspective. Some viewers may be offended by the religious content.” Having confirmed our openness, we picked our spot among 50 empty chairs. With emphasis on the past and present development of the telescope combined with a prophetic spiritual climax, we found the show very enlightening. Following the program, Charlotte’s son excitedly motioned us over. He had his mom on the phone. As Barb took the phone, we were certainly curious about this woman’s cycling past.

Ms Hamlin had biked from California to South Carolina to promote her plan for a healthy lifestyle. The health educator’s catchy words were FRESH START which stood for Fresh air, Rest, Exercise, Simple diet, Happiness, Sunshine, The use of water, Abstemiousness, Restoration and Trust in divine power. Charlotte wasn’t satisfied with conquering the USA by bicycle so she kept on cycling! Twelve thousand miles later, she had pedaled around the world, covering Europe, Asia, Australia and Canada. Her book, “Ride With the Wind,” is not your average touring tale as Hamlin began her adventure at age 68 (in 1987) and finished at age 75. Grandma Hamlin demonstrated that we should be able to do the things we want to do at any age. In her writings, she speaks of angels on either side of her handlebars when she shared narrow bridges with the “big rigs.”

Exchanging greetings with Charlotte, Barb briefed the well-traveled lady on our just-finished adventure. She was thrilled to hear of our journey and expressed great joy of our accomplishment. Although she noted that she wasn’t as mobile these days, we suspected that she gets around fairly well for an octogenarian. She concurred with Barb that time and again, most people are more willing to assist a helpless stranger who isn’t inside a steel and glass cage. After ten minutes of heartwarming chat, Charlotte’s son in the background interjected twice, “Mom, these folks need to go out so that they can watch the sunset!” Having completed the touching conversation, we scurried outside for the day’s glorious finish.

With the cruise ship gone, a large crowd had gathered on the dock. It was so congested that we decided to go to the neighboring Hilton Pier. This adjacent viewing area turned out to be a great vantage point. We could see both the horizon and the dynamic crowd on Mallory Square Dock. A bi-plane flew overhead with the banner,”2 FLY 4 $60.” Seeing a bank of clouds on the horizon, we soon realized that this sunset was going to be another letdown. Most of the crowd stayed for the anti-climatic ending hoping the sun would somehow overcome the clouds but only a dark-yellow hue framed the gray-blue horizon.

Suddenly, there was a mass exodus to the east. Within two minutes, the crowd was completely gone. It was as if the home football team had lost in the final seconds of a tight game. The air was filled with disappointment and denial. But for many, their evening of revelry was just beginning. We now considered ourselves very fortunate to have seen the lovely sunset in Marathon three days earlier. Anticipating an early start in the morning, we took in a few sights on Duval before busing back to the motel. It’s hard to find anyone who has been to Key West who doesn’t want to return.

Our drive back to Michigan began at 6:30 AM. There was no need to glance at the map. Highway 1 is the only route through the Florida Keys. Halfway across Alligator Alley on Interstate 75, our cell phone rang. It was Dermot Cole with the Daily News-Miner in Fairbanks, AK. Dermot had received our press release and wanted to ask a few questions before doing a follow-up story. Randall noted, “We both had a goal of going from point A to point B, and that was where we directed our focus.” Barb commented, “We had been riding a tandem bike for six years before this trip so a lot of things became second nature.” The next week, the News-Miner published a follow-up with the heading, “Husband and Wife Complete 7,100-mile Test of Togetherness.”

At noon, we stopped for lunch at Fort Myers, FL before driving over to Sanibel, FL. We had originally planned to fly out of Fort Myers but decided against it weeks earlier. So, instead of needing the large suitcases required for flying our tandem and gear, we had Barb’s sister Susan arrange to ship just a small bag with clothing and personal items. For a ship-to-address, Susan contacted Melva and Ed on Sanibel Island. Like Barb and Susan, Melva belongs to the P.E.O. Sisterhood, a philanthropic organization for women. Melva was more than happy to receive our suitcase and insisted that we spend the night at their place.

While driving along on the causeway to the island, we realized that we had forgotten to document our suntans from the months of touring. With short sleeve jerseys, cycling shorts and sandals as our consistent apparel throughout, we were quite proud of our biker’s tan lines. Never would we be this dark again! A small beach on the causeway gave us a white sandy beach setting that was perfect for the obligatory photography. After a warm greeting from Melva and Ed, we were reunited with our suitcase. For the first time in five months, our feet felt the comfort of tennis shoes. Wow!

Later that afternoon, Melva’s local P.E.O. sisters and the director for Habitat for Humanity of Lee County, FL, came over to meet us. For an hour, we shared many tales with the enthusiastic group. As the day wound down, our hosts took us on a car tour to Captiva Island. The island had been devastated by the Category-4 Hurricane Charley in August. The abundant trees and landscaping were now a flat, twisted mess. For those large homes that survived mostly unscathed, all of their privacy was blown away by the storm. At the north end of Captiva, we posed for one last Florida sunset. Following a delicious dinner, we shared our AK 2 FL slide show with Melva and Ed.

Careful not to wake our hosts at 6 AM the next morning, we tiptoed out to our rental car to resume our trek to Michigan. After a long drive with a couple of stops, we checked into a motel in northern Kentucky for a night’s rest. With a subsequent morning start at 6 AM, we arrived five hours later at the Detroit Metropolitan Airport. Marian from Clarkston, MI met us near the airport where we transferred our bike and gear to her vehicle. This was the same wonderful woman that delivered us to the airport at 4:30 AM on May 14 to begin our incredible adventure. Plus, she opened up her home to us during our transitional stay in Michigan. We couldn’t have found a nicer lady to spend time with.

Once in Clarkston, we unloaded our bike and gear and then were taken ten miles northwest to Bonnie’s farm where we were reunited with our two cars. The two vehicles had been stored in a big red barn while we were away. The next day, we reassembled our tandem and went to Stony Creek Metro Park for a ride in a Michigan fall setting. Yes indeed, we were yearning to pedal the old bike once again as we had passed the “test of togetherness!”

Miles cycled – 9.4 (does not include park ride in Michigan)

Total miles cycled – 7,426.5

[Our AK 2 FL route covered 7,115 map miles. The total mileage above includes the off-route riding to lodging and other services.]

Epilogue

Some of our readers may have been wondering, “How did two cyclists evolved from biking around the neighborhood to cycling across a continent?” We both grew up in Kansas and met as engineering students while attending Kansas State University. In our earliest outings, we went on cycling dates so we knew we had something in common other than just crunching numbers on a calculator. Since graduating, we have lived in Ohio, Michigan and now Washington. Our move to southeast Michigan in 1993 really set the stage for renewing our love of cycling. Using foldable hybrid bikes, in the mid 90s we took bicycle vacations to the American southwest and the Canada Rockies. It was during these independent outings that we started thinking about riding across the USA.

While we were thinking about expanding our horizons, in June of 1998, we got our first tandem. Buying the two-seater bicycle dramatically changed our outlook on riding. We could now go further and faster together. From then on, with each vacation we took, our coupled tandem went with us. Two years later, we bought a BOB trailer and some camping gear and attended a five-day cycle-touring class offered by Adventure Cycling in Missoula. By the fall of 2003, we had biked 100 or more miles in 30 states. Even though these mini-vacation trips were not done in a loaded-touring fashion, we later realized that the diversity of the roads, terrain, and motorists we encountered helped prepare us for a long journey. As time went on, we changed our minds about biking from coast to coast.

We had read about a man who had cycled from Alaska to Florida in 1996 and then we realized that if we are going to drop everything for a big trip we should be going for the longest ride possible within the available window of bike tolerable weather. For our starting point, we chose the Arctic Circle north of Fairbanks, AK for its challenging ride and numerous photo opportunities. For the ending point, we went with the highly recognizable Southernmost Point in Key West, FL

As 2004 rolled around, we were ready for our big ride! Knowing that we had long yearned to move to the Pacific Northwest, we realized that it was time to make a clean break. After much preparation, we sold our house in March of that year. In April, we partnered with our local chapter of Habitat for Humanity. It was important to us that we would be biking for a cause. Then in May, we quit our jobs. Our friends, associates and relatives thought were nuts! But then, many realized that you only go around once in life, why not?

When we got on that plane in Michigan, it was just an indescribable feeling. Our stuff and cars were in storage. We were leaving everything behind. We were living our dream! Flying into Fairbanks, we gave ourselves five days to get acclimated. It was to our advantage that Barb’s aunt and uncle lived in Fairbanks as it not only provided us a place to setup but they were able to transport us the 200 miles north to the Arctic Circle. And since we would be passing back through Fairbanks, we had a place to recover. Undaunted by the rigors of the Dalton Highway, we continued cycling beyond Fairbanks for five months to realize our dream.

We were happy that our AK 2 FL adventure raised a total of $9,271.81 for Habitat for Humanity, Oakland County, MI. We are VERY grateful to those who made contributions to our cause. The funds we collected joined with the Rochester Coalition to build one of the ten houses constructed in Oakland County, Michigan during the 2005 Jimmy Carter Work Project. The two-week long JCWP started June 11th and officially concluded June 24th.

Occasionally, we are called upon to relive the memories of our epic tour. A colorful, half hour slide show captures our special moments using just 2.5 percent of the trip’s 16,000 photos. We estimated that Barb shot over half of the photos while we were riding. With this camera angle, our viewers almost feel like they are along for the ride! Also contributing to our high photo count was our routine to stop every five miles whether we were tired or not. These regular stops gave us more time to enjoy the experience.

And lastly, we would like to leave a note about the theme for our wondrous journey, “It’s all downhill from here.” During our trip, so many people offered that assessment of the terrain to us whether it was factual or not. We soon embraced this expression of optimism during our adventure as we felt that it’s best to have a positive outlook no matter what you’re doing.

Randall and Barb Angell – – – – TeamAngell

Related Photos Back

Wayback Machine

AUG AUG SEP
Previous capture 28 Next capture
2007 2008 2009
16 captures
5 Aug 04 – 28 Aug 08
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos The Radium Hot Springs, BC to USA Border Stage (via Highways 93, 3, 507 and 6) Back

 

July 7, 2004

At about 2 AM, Randall covered the bike with our 7 ft x 9 ft tandem tarp to keep it dry during a heavy downpour. Starting our morning, the rain stopped long enough for us to pack the trailer and put all the gear on the bike that had been removed when we washed it the day before. We left by 7:45 AM as it started to sprinkle. The day’s ride began with a three mile, gentle climb out of Radium Hot Springs. We kept pedaling through the rain and it stopped when we reached Invermere 6.5 miles later. We went down a winding road to reach the city as it must have been about 500 feet lower in elevation. By going through downtown Invermere, we left the busy highway 93. Our map plan had us taking West Side Road for 18 miles. This shoulder-less road followed the west side of Windermore Lake for several miles which required a few moderate climbs. Traffic was very light which was good as the road was rough and bumpy. The traffic may be heavier in the future as we saw a lot of development along the road for those future dwellers who desire the nice, lake views.

Although there were still lots of trees, the landscape was getting more pasture like. Barbed wire fences sometimes lined the road and we occasionally saw cattle. Some segments of the road went through open range as there were cattle guards at the beginning and the end. A cattle guard is a group of pipes that span the width of the road. The pipes are spaced 4 to 5 inches apart to discourage cattle from crossing over (their hooves would fall between the pipes). Cars and trucks can drive over them without much problem, feeling just a slight bump as they pass over. However, cattle guards can potentially damage a wheel on a fully loaded touring bike, so we stopped and walked the tandem across the pipes.

We reconnected with Highway 93/95 and stopped at a convenience store for a mid morning snack. Finishing our snack, we observed a street cleaner brushing down our shoulder. We were surprised to see such equipment in a remote area but we appreciated the clean shoulder. Traffic was somewhat busy on Highway 93/95 but our route soon turned off on Columbia Lake Road, giving us a scenic lake view and perhaps, less climbing than the main road had. Rejoining with Highway 93/95 once again, we biked 8 miles to Canal Flats. This small town was just off the road so we decided not to pull in. Instead, we snacked along the side of the road. Just beyond Canal Flats, we paused to watch a lumber mill operation as we could see the truck and log moving equipment in action. From there, we began a gentle three mile climb.

Throughout today’s ride, we really never left the mountains as the Purcell range was to the west and the Kootenay range was to the east. After 60 miles, we rode down into a river valley where the town of Shookumchuck is situated. It was time to eat again so we stopped for lunch at the roadside restaurant. One of the restaurant patrons asked which direction we were headed. He advised that they had just driven through heavy rain about 10 miles south of our location. Prior to this lunch break, it had looked like rain for several miles, so we already had our helmet covers and bootie covers on. Sure enough, soon after we restarted, the rain began to pour and it wasn’t about to let up. At one point we met a group of northbound motorcyclists. They gave us waves and thumbs up for encouragement. One passenger even applauded us. These kinds of jesters can really boast one’s spirits.

As we approached Fort Steele, the terrain became hillier. We were somewhat able to use our downhill momentum to better climb the uphill advance. Less than a mile from Fort Steele, our shifter cable (for the 3 chain rings) broke. Fortunately, the hills had given way to a plateau. We pulled a few feet off onto a side road for a quick resolution in the rain. Using the small, vise-grip wrench, Randall clamped the broken end of the shifter cable around a braze-on so that the bike would stay in the second chain ring. The gripping wrench was secured to the tandem frame with a rubber band. We then pedaled into town.

There was a general store at the entrance of a campground. Given that it was raining, we wanted to avoid camping. We used the pay phone to call a B&B located 1 mile east of town and got their answering machine. Not knowing if they had a vacancy, we didn’t want to risk biking there. Barb asked the clerk at the general store if there was any lodging available nearby. She referred us to two towns of which, the nearest one was about 20 miles away. Barb said we were on a bicycle and needed something right there, if possible. The clerk said they had a cabin we could look at and gave us the key. It had electricity, beds and some furniture. We could use the nearby campground washrooms and Laundromat. The rain was beginning to taper off, but the cabin would provide us with a warm, dry place with adequate lighting in which to replace the broken shifter cable.

While Randall wheeled the bike over to the cabin, Barb went back to the office to pay for the cabin. Another customer who had seen our trailer banner, which displays Habitat for Humanity of Oakland County, said, “Tell me that’s not Oakland California.” Barb advised that it was actually Oakland County Michigan and that we had started biking north of Fairbanks, Alaska. He then wanted to know when we started. As he was given more details, he just stood there with an incredulous look on his face. Finally he asked if we had a divorce lawyer following us. After showering and eating, Randall successfully replaced the broken shifter cable.

Miles cycled – 82.3

July 8, 2004

Launching our tandem this morning at 7:45, the sky was partly cloudy and it was not raining. Today was already looking good! Instead of taking the busy highway 93/95 south through Fort Steele, our map plan took us onto Wardner-Fort Steele Road. It was a little bit of climbing at first, but this back road highway offered splendid views of the Steeples Mountains to the east. The bike was shifting very well with the new shifter cable. We use a Teflon-coated wire and after 2000 plus miles, there must not have been much Teflon left on the old wire. The road then leveled out as we saw numerous small farms and ranches along the way. One ranch used fence posts to display their baseball cap collection. There had to be over a hundred posts topped off with a cap. We crossed two cattle guards and there were signs that cautioned about livestock on highway. Later, we followed the wide Kootenay River basin before our route connected with Highway 93/3. We met a train along the highway just before we reached the main road.

Turning onto highway 93/3, we pedaled up one long hill before then tackling a series of small hills. Reaching the small town of Jaffray, we stopped at a convenience store and warmed up some egg and cheese muffins. Outside, two motorcyclists inquired about our trip. They asked if we would ride on the Going-to-the-Sun Road in Glacier National Park. We said “Yes” and they followed, “You’ll just love that highway, with mountains walls on one side and a sheer drop on the other side.” Barb replied nervously, “Yes, we will.”

Continuing our route, we turned off on another back road called Jaffray-Baynes Lake Road. We biked along on three flat miles before reaching a series of hills. At the first long hill, we caught up with three cyclists about one quarter of the way up. The two younger female cyclists had stopped to rest while the older male cyclist continued up the hill. When we caught up with him, he asked where the girls were. When we told him that they had stopped, he chose to keep biking with us. He was a doctor and the girls were his teenage daughters. They were from Steward, British Columbia and had started biking just across the border from Steward in Alaska. They were going to Florida, but hadn’t determined the route they would take beyond Missoula, Montana. They had been biking locally for a few days, waiting for the daughters’ passports to arrive before crossing the border into the States. His wife was with them in a van during this delay, but would not be with them the rest of the trip. This explained why they now had nothing with them except a water bottle, but left us wondering why the girls appeared stalled on the moderate hill when they would have already biked over 1000 miles with gear. He continued to bike with us, drafting behind us. This allowed him to coast a great deal of the time and soon he began to whistle. We found this quite aggravating as we were the ones doing all the work. Not only were we shielding the wind for him, we were pulling all the weight of our gear. We did surprise him with our speed on the downhills and he commented that it must be a lot of fun on the back of a tandem when he saw Barb taking pictures on the fly. About five miles later, we reached a turn in the route and stopped to rest before continuing. We chatted some more and then left him to wait for his daughters to catch up.

The route turned east onto Kikomun Road for a short segment of seven miles before rejoining Highway 3 for the climb to Fernie. The toughest part of the climb was a steep hill just before the small town of Elko. After climbing that hill, we rested and wondered if there were more hills of the same grade. While resting, a long coal train passed under the bridge nearby. Continuing on for the 19 miles to Fernie, we followed the highway as it was wedged between the mountains and a river. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the additional 600 ft we needed to climb was spread out in a gentle ascent. Half way along this jaunt, the road went through a short tunnel. Approaching the tunnel, the traffic was congested with semi-trucks but it then cleared briefly as we dashed through. After the tunnel, we enjoyed scenic views of the Elk River.

Reaching Fernie, we had a meal stop at Dairy Queen. We assessed the terrain ahead and our fatigue level and determined that we could make it to Sparwood. Going through Fernie, we stopped to get some camera batteries. Fernie, a resort town of 6,000 which entertains a lot of winter sports, was as big a town that we had been in for a while. With 18 miles left until Sparwood, we hustled on some very nice flat miles before stopping for the night. Sparwood is a former coal mining town and now has just the logging industry to support it. A Chinese dinner at a local restaurant made for a very fulfilling day.

Miles cycled – 80.5

July 9, 2004

At the hotel we stayed at, there was a bicycle with a BOB trailer parked outside another room. As we finished packing everything on our bike, the cyclist emerged from his room. He was biking to Ottawa, but didn’t seen too interested in talking with us so we proceeded on our route which took us by downtown Sparwood. We passed the World’s Largest Truck, used during the coal mining days. We stopped for pictures. Randall stood by the tires to get a perspective on the size of the truck

Being about 12 miles from Crowsnest Pass at 4,457 ft, we expected some climbing but it wasn’t too bad. Along the way, we saw some mountain goats along the side of the road. When we reached the pass, we stopped to enjoy the beautiful lake there. We had reason to cheer as with this pass we were completing our fifth Continental Divide crossing. It was a sunny, clear day and after the pass, we had a very nice tailwind. Just beyond the pass were more beautiful lakes and park areas. We stopped to take pictures of the valley below before arriving in Coleman. Coleman’s population was listed as 500 on our map, but it was a much bigger town during the mining days (later, a local said its present size was closer to 2,500). There were rows of housing reminiscent of old coal or steel towns in eastern USA such as Pittsburg but on a smaller scale. We stopped for breakfast in a restaurant along the highway.

After eating, we went to the nearby service station to get some Gatorade before continuing. We wanted to cover about 86 miles today. This would place us about 15 miles from the US border and 29 miles from the next services. The service station had a rush of customers and while Barb was delayed inside the store, Randall discovered some looseness in the rear bottom bracket (the axle which Barb’s crank arms were attached to). We then sought out the only known bike shop in town, The Tuck Shop. The bike shop was located in the center of Coleman in the valley below the highway. There was a hand written sign in the bike shop window which said to “Call on the hard side tent next door.” We later learned this was the terminology the owner preferred (to trailer) so he could not be called trailer trash. Barb went next door and rang the bell. A man immerged who said we was just finishing showering and would join us shortly.

Gord Tuck started this bike shop to provide support for his daughter, Carrie, a world-class mountain biker. After high school, he worked three years in the mines and then became a truck driver. He broke his back and no longer could drive trucks. He was officially disabled and was obviously in pain while he worked on our bike. From his opening observation of our tandem, we could tell that he freely spoke his mind. He critically inquired, “When are you tandem bike riders going to learn that you should set your pedals out of phase?!” Having the front pedals out of sync, one-quarter turn with the rear pedals was what he was referring to. This practice lessens the strain on the stoker’s bottom bracket. Gord’s reaction was encouraging to Randall as most small bike shop operators know very little about tandems and some want nothing to do with the two-seater bikes. Gord had biked with his daughter on a tandem and had extensive mountain bike experience. It was his passion for biking which kept the bike store opened and most of his business was with those traveling through, not the locals.

Gord was most helpful. He set our bike up on a stand and proceeded to check out the bottom bracket. He determined that the interior threads were stripped on the right side of the shell which holds our bottom bracket. Because of the amount of thread damage, we were not able to get a stable bottom bracket assembly. Yikes! We had a serious equipment problem here. Randall called Santana Cycles in La Verne, CA. The manufacturer of our tandem said we had two options. The first option was to apply filler material which hardens and then one could rethread the damage thread area. The problem with this option was that it required a special threading tool (cost exceeding $1,000) which would probably require shipping from the States. Plus, there were no assurances that this fix would last for the 4,500 miles remaining on our trip. The second option was to ship that portion of the tandem to Santana Cycles in La Verne (in the LA area) with the promise of a one week turnaround. The primary courier for the Coleman area was Purolator but the truck had already made the rounds on that Friday so we could not ship until Monday! Given this predicament, and given our past experience with delivery time to Canada, Barb ask Gord, “Are there any rental car companies around?” We would go crazy waiting around for the repair so we decided to take action and have Gord drive us around to look for a rental car. On our second stop in searching for a car, we found a Subaru Forester (Lance Armstrong promotes the Outback) in nearby Blairmore.

A car dealership linked us up with the rental. Unfortunately, unlimited mileage was not an option. Plus, we added insurance coverage as we had reduced our insurance coverage on our two cars sitting idle in Michigan to liability only. Our primary concern was any restriction of driving the vehicle across the border crossing. The salesman assured us that there would be no issue with driving into the USA. He asked, “Where are you driving to?” Answering, “LA,” someone joked “I don’t think they mean, Lower Alberta.” We stopped back at the bike shop and pulled together every known equipment issue that the manufacturer could possibly address. That included the disassembled rear triangle (containing the stripped threads), the rear wheel (one of three pawls broken since Fairbanks) and the entire disk brake system (sticking plunger in master cylinder). So at 5 PM, Mountain Time, we were off to LA. still dressed in our stinky bike clothes.

We arrived at US customs about 7 PM Pacific Time (having crossed back over the Continental Divide and driven even further west) and handed the agent our US passports. He asked where we were from. We said most recently, Michigan. He could see our Alberta car tag, so he asked us where we got the car. We said it was a rental. We followed that we were on an extended bike tour and a component on our bicycle broke, so we were taking the part to the manufacturer in the States to be repaired. He picked up on the expression “our bicycle” and asked, “So it is a tandem?” making sure our story was consistent. He then asked where we were going. When we said LA, he turned his head sharply to his left as if to regain his composure. After a pause, he asked what we did in Michigan. We said we were engineers. He must have figured he had already won the award for the weirdest story of the day so he said “Have a nice trip” and waved us on. Back in the good ole USA, we stopped long enough for some cheap gas and snacks and then continued to Spokane, WA before stopping for the night.

Miles cycled – 23.4

July 10-15, 2004

We got about 6 hours of rest in Spokane, WA and then drove west on Interstate 84 to Portland, OR traveling along the great Columbia River. We then headed south on Interstate 5 (through Sacramento) until we reached Claremont, CA just after midnight on Saturday. After 27 hours of driving, it was interesting how quickly we became typical motorists with little notice of the terrain and surroundings. Being a detour from our bike tour, there was no need for photography. While we were covering the same distance in a little more than an hour of driving that we had been traveling in one day on our bicycle, the details were just a blur.

Claremont borders La Verne (both cities being east of LA) and is also where Barb’s aunt Dorothy and uncle Jim live. With a half-day’s advance notice, they warmly anticipated our expected brief stay. We spent Sunday visiting and updating the website. Barb’s cousin Rick, made some calls Sunday afternoon on our behalf as his sister-in-law’s husband had links with the owner of our tandem manufacturer, Santana Cycles. Monday morning, at 7:30, we arrived at Santana Cycles to hand deliver the rear triangle portion of the tandem for the necessary repair. We also handed over the disc brake system and rear wheel for refurbishment. The turnaround for our parts was unclear at that point because the staff for the front office did not arrive until later in the morning and the production staff was just returning from a one week shutdown. So, we returned to our relative’s house.

That afternoon, we revisited the manufacturer’s site to get an update. We then learned that the founder of the company, Bill McCready had arrived back Sunday from one of his organized tours and was out of the loop with regards to who we were and the urgency of our repair needs. Bill was delighted to see us (he remembered us from past Santana tours and from Barb’s tandem photography). Earlier in the day, he had heard about a touring couple needing an urgent repair but did not know it was us. Santana gave our repair parts top priority Monday with the completion of bottom bracket repair scheduled for 3:30 pm Tuesday.

That Monday afternoon, we happily accepted an invitation to Bill’s and Jan’s (his wife) house for dinner. It gave us great pleasure to share bicycle touring experiences with another tandem couple. The refurbished parts were ready as promised on Tuesday. While making the pickup, we purchased some hard to find spare parts and gratefully thanked the staff at Santana for their quick attention to our repair needs. We headed back to Canada that evening, taking a different route, Interstate 15 through Las Vegas and Salt Lake City. This alternate route gave us an opportunity to stop in Missoula, MT where Barb’s sister had shipped some supplies to the post office for us (the supplies consisted of maps, two new tires and a new wheel built by Prestige Cycles in Michigan). While in Missoula, we also picked up some power food bars and stopped at Staples to buy a Palm and wireless keyboard.

Thursday afternoon, we arrived back in Coleman, AB, having driven over 3,200 miles. While Barb got a hotel room and returned the rental car, Gord and Randall reassembled the tandem. The new rear wheel was put on along with a new tire. The old rear wheel was shipped to Prestige Cycles for refurbishment. After the rim is replaced in the old wheel, it will be our backup wheel (we are being very conservative with the wheel rim situation because we have had a rim failure about every 2,000 miles since we started riding tandems in 1998). Gord also addressed other small nagging issues such as noisy pedals. We test drove the tandem, riding for the first time in 6 1/2 days. Gord was one of the most interesting characters we have met on this tour and we very much appreciated his support. We went to sleep in a soft bed that night, realizing that we were finally going to be back in the saddle again!

Miles cycled – 2.3

July 16, 2004

We left Coleman later than planned as both of us were feeling the effects of food poisoning. As we started, we were wearing just shorts and jerseys as the morning was already warm. The bike was riding well and we sailed the first few miles. Before long, we went by the town of Blairmore (where we got the rental car). The next town, Frank was a ways off the road, but we passed right by the Frank Slide, where a massive rock slide in 1903 buried some of the town and covered the entrance to the mine. At least 70 people died.

Our route soon took us off of Highway 6 and onto scenic Highway 507. Faced with our first real climb of the day, we shifted into first and soon discovered that the chain guard was not tightened when the bike was reassembled (Randall’s oops). The chain got caught between the small chain ring and the frame. Randall had to remove the stuck chain and then reposition and tighten the chain guard. Highway 507 offered many wide expanses. There was lots of freshly cut alfalfa which was affecting our allergies. Grasshoppers were becoming more prevalent. One flew into Randall’s right ear while we were going along at 15 mph. It felt like a rock hit his ear and then the “rock” kicked off his ear. We saw one touring couple on singles headed north. They looked somewhat frazzled as it was a warm morning and there was some climbing to do, whatever direction you were headed.

We ate lunch at the A&W restaurant in Pincher Creek as we rejoined Highway 6. Pincher Creek had many large murals in the downtown area showing cowboys and cattle drives. There were signs on Highway 6 calling it the Cowboy Highway. We met a couple from Washington State outside the visitor center. They were eager to hear about our trip. They commented that we must be in our twenties. We said no. Then, they inquired, “You’re in your thirties?” We answered, “No” again. This is why we felt we needed to take the time to do this trip now, while we still physically could.

Biking south, the terrain was looking a lot like the “Big Sky Country” of Montana. Interpretive signs appropriately summed it up with “where the mountains meet the prairies.” It was apparent that as we approached the USA border, we would soon be climbing in the mountains. The temperature was quite warm now with a slight tail wind. After not biking for a week, dealing with the heat was a challenge. We stopped at Twin Butte for a light dinner. The cool salads hit the spot. At 6:30 PM we arrived at the Waterton Springs Campground for the night. A young man working at the campsite asked about our trip. He was so intrigued, he bought a disposable camera to take our picture as he thought we would be famous. The shower option at the campground was a new twist as you received a token at the time of registration. There was a box on the wall where you entered your token and then you turned on the water valve to the shower and rushed to complete your shower within the allotted 4 minutes. It seemed kind of like a car wash! We got to bed by 9:20 with the alarm set for 4:30 AM, but we were soon awakened by noisy neighbors setting up their fifth wheeler in the spot right next to us. They talked loudly and produced an assortment of other bodily noises. Then, they started a fire in the fire pit just a few feet from our tent and discussed among other things, the strange names rich people give their children until midnight. It was a Friday night and they obviously weren’t going anywhere the next morning.

Miles cycled – 62.1

July 17, 2004

As we got around at 4:30 AM, we were careful that we did not reciprocate with the noise our neighbors created the night before. On our way at 6 AM, we were looking for some ambitious climbing today. We did two long climbs to reach the USA border. We did not realize how big the one climb was until we stopped and looked back. Wow! We passed on a side trip to Waterton Village which some locals described as a must see. Before crossing over to USA, we observed the “Welcome to Alberta” sign and took in the beauty of the area. We were leaving Canada and it was a wonderful time!

The US customs office was on a slight incline so we got off the bike as we waited for the people ahead of us to clear. The customs officer asked how long we had been in Canada. We said we crossed at Beaver Creek, Yukon on June 1st. We had decided not to complicate things by mentioning our road trip to LA. He asked if we were tired of traveling yet. We weren’t, but Barb was not as energetic today and it probably showed. After the usual “any alcohol, tobacco or firearms?” questions, he wished us well on the rest of our trip and waved us through. It was good to be back in the USA, and this time on the bicycle.

Miles cycled – 16.0 (to the border and subsequently 28.4 miles south of the border)

Related Photos Back

 

Wayback Machine

JAN AUG SEP
Previous capture 28 Next capture
2007 2008 2009
12 captures
5 Aug 04 – 28 Aug 08
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos The Jasper, AB to Radium Hot Springs, BC Stage (via the Icefields and Bow Valley Parkways) Back

 

July 2, 2004

We stayed at our hotel until checkout time, working on the website. Randall made an attempt to bleed the disc brake system but was not successful because the plunger in the master cylinder was sticking. He also added 3 to 7 pounds pressure to each of the three tires, a routine that he has practiced (every other day) since the start of the tour. The tires lose a little bit of air every day. We pump the tires to about 75 psi, or up to 5 pounds over specification. As mentioned in earlier writings, under-inflation is good when the roads are really bumpy (such as on a gravel road) but 99 percent of our roads have been relatively smooth. We will continue this practice as we have had no punctures on the tandem’s tires since starting the tour.

After checking out of the hotel, we headed to town for a stop at the grocery store and drug store before eating lunch at A&W. While inside eating, a European couple stopped to check out our bike parked on the sidewalk. They seemed so interested that Barb went out and gave them one of our cards. Their English was broken, but they were able to ask where we started and where we were going. Then, she just said one word, “respect.”

As we left town, there was a burst of rain pouring onto Jasper. Tourists were scrambling for cover. Barb wanted to put the rain booties on but Randall urged that it would not be raining a half mile outside of town. Right at the edge of town, we observed 5 cyclists were waiting under an overpass. About a block past the overpass, the rain stopped.

Today, we started using maps prepared by Adventure Cycling and designed specifically for bikers. They indicate the location of grocery stores, campgrounds, motels, restaurants as well as bike shops and post offices. They also give average weather data and elevation profiles. They use different notations for the various services and track the mileage between landmarks and match lines instead of by mileposts as was done by the guide book we have been using. It will take some time to transition to this different map style.

To start, the new map has us using the lesser traveled 93A for the first 15 miles inside Jasper National Park. This was the old road and was narrow, steep and winding. We dropped into the second lowest gear within a half mile of the start and we strained ourselves and the tandem, going up the steep grade. This 93A had not been maintained as well as the main road and that became a problem towards the last five miles of the road. For about a mile segment, there was a very rough portion that could match the brutality of the gravel sections of the Dalton Highway. Finishing this rough section, we could hear a repeating, clunk, clunk, clunk noise. Stopping the tandem on this narrow road, we discovered that the rear tandem tire had a cut on the side which was hitting the frame with each revolution. Ouch! And didn’t we just promote under-inflation of tires (on bumpy roads) a few paragraphs earlier? Well, that’s always a tough call. You see a bad road, you slow down and you’re thinking, “this will only last for a short while.” We quickly took the trailer off and sat both the tandem and trailer in the sloping ditch at the side of the road. This was not an easily setting to change out a tire but it was not safe to be in the road with an occasional tourist blazing through. After switching out tires, we are left with one good, spare tire. Randall had just ordered six new tires from the internet the night before but we will not see any of those tires until we get to Montana.

Later, as we were finishing highway 93A, the chain got caught while shifting to the smallest chain ring. Randall had to remove the crank arm to get the chain back into position. Needless to say, we were happy to finish this road. One reason for the alternate route was that animal sightings were supposed to be more likely. We didn’t see any animals, but we did meet up with a biker from Chicago. He had been working in Edmonton for three months and was now vacationing before returning home. He was not touring, just cycling from wherever he was lodging, so he carried no gear with him. He was impressed with our trip and said he wanted to do something similar next year but on a smaller scale to avoid quitting his job.

At the very end of 93A, we stopped at Athabasca Falls, a beautiful site crowded with tourists, before rejoining the main highway. Traffic was heavier on the main route, but the road surface was greatly improved and a shoulder was available. Soon, it began to rain. We continued until we got to the Honeymoon Lake Campground. With the late start and the bike issues, we hadn’t traveled very far, but it was already 6 PM and the next campground was another 15 miles uphill. Plus, we were somewhat soaked from the rain. This was a park services campground with 35 sites, pit toilets and drinking water trucked in. We circled the campground and found that no sites were available, so we set up camp near the lake where a couple of benches and a fire pit were located. The campground had food lockers available for campers in tents to store their food secure from the bears, so we didn’t have to use our bear bag and suspend our food in a tree. The rain stopped after a while and many people came to the lake. One man from Montreal was float fishing in an inner tube type contraption with waders attached for his legs. He cast his line a few times, but said the water was warm and shallow without much more than minnows to catch. After speaking French with his spouse, the man, apparently knowing that Barb was from the states, easily switched to English and even gave the water temperature as 70 F (Canadians use the metric system but it seems they’re better versed at both measurement systems than we are in the states).

Miles cycled – 34.5

July 3, 2004

We got up at 5 AM hoping for a more productive day. There was a tent set up not far from ours with two bikes parked outside. While we ate breakfast, a woman got out of the tent to walk around. We later talked to her and found that they were from New Zealand and were spending two months biking east across Canada. They started in Vancouver so were only about a week into their trip which would end in Halifax.

We hit the road by 7 AM, the first ones out of the campground for a change. We had a long climb but most stretches were only 2 to 3% grade. It was not raining but rain looked threatening at times. This day of riding was in a very wonderful setting as we would travel 60 miles of highway that was wedged between snow covered mountains.

With the scenery really picking up, we stopped at a vacant observation area beside the road. Five minutes later, the scenic spot was thriving with tourists as a tour bus of about 20 Europeans stopped. The bus had seating in the front and sleeping quarters in the back. Their slated time for stopping must have been short as they quickly took photos and then piled back into the bus. Some paused to look at our bike but no one spoke to us. Once they were back on the bus and waiting to merge into highway traffic, we took a picture of the bus. We were greeted by 20 hands, waving vigorously. Wow! Perhaps they were cautioned by their guide not to get too close to the wildlife (which we were?) and they felt safe once back inside the bus.

A couple of miles later, we came upon a wildlife sighting, traffic jam. About ten cars were stopped on both sides of the highway and many people were out of their cars watching a black bear grazing, high along side of the road.

We soon got our first glimpse of the Columbian Icefield. We were only seeing a small glimpse of this massive layer of snow and ice that sits atop the mountains. The portion we were viewing looked like a slab of whip cream on chocolate cake. The CLIMB now started. It was steep and the road narrowed with little shoulder. For over half of this climb, we had to go to our lowest gear. There were turnouts about every half mile which allowed for a well-deserved rest. Fortunately, most drivers appreciated what we were doing and held back until there was room to pass. We got many encouraging remarks as well. After four miles of hard climbing, we had conquered the worst of the climb. We were not yet at Sunwapta Pass (6,676 ft) but the scenic rewards were just waiting for our busy digital camera.

Just around the bend, the visitor center at the Columbian Icefield was full of tourists, many of them Japanese. They offer tours in special buses with large wheels which go out onto the glacier surface. Tourists may also drive towards the glacier and then climb about a mile up a footpath to reach the glacier. We did the walking option in 1997 when we were driving in this area so we did not take the time to approach the glacier this trip (because the glacier is receding, each year it is further to walk to). We picked up lunch in the cafeteria and ate outside in full view of the glacier and all the tourists getting their photos taken, standing in front of the glacier. There were signs asking tourists to, “Keep our wild birds wild. Do not feed them.” One variety in particular, the Clark’s Nutcracker didn’t seem too wild and readily approached the tables. We had to shoo them away from our food.

Leaving the visitor center, the Sunwapta Pass was not far south of the Columbian Icefield and the remaining climb was not as steep as the lower portion. The actual pass was not marked, but there was a sign at the entrance to Banff National Park.

Throughout the day, we saw many touring cyclists heading north and only two heading south. We saw one touring family. The father, mother and ten year old son were each on single bikes with panniers. The father also had a BOB trailer like ours. Another group of cyclists stopped to chat at a turnout south of Sunwapta Pass. This group of four women and one man were from Vancouver and were spending five days traveling north from Lake Louise to Jasper staying in hostels along the way. They rotated so that one of them drove the support van each day while the rest cycled. The man had volunteered for drive duty that day since he had previously cycled the same stretch of highway. He gave us a thorough description of what to expect on the downhill as the disc brake was not working properly. We had a long steep descent ahead of us. It was time for the disk brake to perform its role of keeping the heat off of our rim brakes. Randall did some fine tuning on the brake. We had descended nearly two miles using the rims brakes only before, finally, the disk brake started working.

The one lodging opportunity along our route was booked so we continued to Waterfowl Lake Campground just 11 miles before Bow Pass, the second big pass south of Jasper. The lead up to the campground had about 3 miles of moderate climbing which added to an already long day. Waterfowl Lake was a large campground with 116 sites, flush toilets and hot and cold running water (but no showers). It was 8 PM when we arrived and there were many sites still available. The procedure was to select a campsite then return to the main entrance to self register and pay. The campgrounds are not staffed. We searched for a site close to one of the restrooms. We picked one, but a Japanese woman asked if they could have it as they needed two sites. We had seen them scoping sites nearby so we moved to the next one which was empty. After we pulled into that site, a woman rushed over from the restroom area urgently speaking in a foreign language. We gave her a blank stare and she repeated herself louder. Barb said finally said, “We don’t understand you” and she defiantly said “I stand here!” While she wasn’t standing here when we arrived, there was no arguing with her so we found another campsite one lane over. We quickly set up our tent before someone else could claim the site. As we cooked dinner, it started to rain. We packed up things into the trailer that we did not need and scurried to the tent after eating. The laptop battery died after two days of not charging so we could not work on our journal today. It was time for bed.

Miles cycled – 77.9

July 4, 2004

We awoke this morning with a light rain dancing on our tent outside. This was not looking good. We decided to snooze for another hour, hoping that the rain would break (as the mountain showers have been short in duration in the past). At 7:30 AM, we got the lull in the rain we were looking for. We rushed around to break camp and as we finished packing the tent, the light rain started again. At 8:30, having had a light breakfast and knowing that we had a long climb to the top of Bow Pass, we decided to forged ahead, rain or no rain.

Being ten miles from the pass, the climb was initially gentle, but was enough of a workout that we could stay warm with the wetness we were experiencing. We did not stop until 7 miles later so Barb could put on her rain pants for extra warmth. Why not start out with rain pants? Unless it is very cold out, you end up getting just as wet inside the pants because of trapped perspiration. We were being too optimistic that the rain would end soon. The climb was becoming more aggressive after the 7th mile as we dropped into our second lowest gear. Passing motorists were giving us a sympathetic wide berth. One approaching car honked at us 5 times in rapid succession and the driver then gave us two thumbs up (hmmm, steering with his knees?) as a boost of encouragement. At the 9th mile, we took a brief rest. Because of the rain, we refrained from doing our usual half mile rest stops which we do during difficult climbs. During the stop, Randall tried to shoot a rainy photo but the camera battery was low. We were not going to bother with a battery change until the summit as we would quickly get cold.

Reaching the summit is usually a time for cheer. We were just content with being partially warm. With new camera batteries, Randall quickly took photos of the Bow Summit sign documenting the 6,785 foot pass. We now had a long descent in the cold, wet rain. Barb noted that there was a food stop opportunity two miles down at a lodge. Randall tried to keep the descent speed below 20 mph but at one point, we were blazing down a steep portion at 30 mph. It was like stepping into a freezer! Randall’s fingers got so numb, it was difficult to brake. We held on until stopping at the lodge.

We arrived at the Num-Ti-Jah Lodge soaked to the skin and thoroughly chilled. The desk clerk directed us to the restaurant and said she would have a fire going in the library for us soon. The lodge had an excellent breakfast buffet and supplied us with lots of hot tea. One server even brought us towels to help us dry off. After a very filling breakfast, we went to the library to stand by the fireplace. We ended up drying out for about an hour while visiting with two ladies from Germany. Later, two cycling couples from the San Francisco area came in to dry off. They were on a “credit card tour” from Banff to Jasper which means they were staying in hotels (no camping). We talked about biking gear and biking trips. One of the couples was riding on a tandem. They were intrigued with our Tandem Talk, the hardwired headset device we use to talk to each other while on our bike. They told us about using ordinary hotel shower caps as a rain covers for our helmets. During the drying period, the sun came out and all was well again. As we pedaled up the short driveway exit, we noticed a camper truck off to the right that had a Kansas license plate. Upon closer observation, we could see the county abbreviation, RL which is where Barb is from! Barb pulled out her purple, wildcat bandana and waved it at the couple sitting in the cab. This couple got a big laugh as Manhattan is in Riley County, Kansas and is home of the Kansas State University Wildcats, our alma mater.

It was now 1:30 pm and we still had 40 miles to go. No problem, it was mostly downhill to Lake Louise and on to Castle Junction. But first, we stopped to photograph Bow Lake, a beautiful blue-green glacial lake tucked between the highway and the mountains. Reaching Lake Louise, we directed ourselves to the Bow Valley Parkway. This scenic alternate to the Trans Canada 1 took us away from heavy traffic and increased the likelihood of spotting critters. About 10 miles down the road, we saw vehicles on both sides of the highway. An animal sighting! A lot of people have been concerned about our safety with wild animals. While cycling, our greatest concern has been the haphazard driving behavior exhibited by tourists, frenzied to see an animal in the wild. Our attention to the humans is at the highest level in these situations. In this particular stopped traffic setting, the critter of interest was a grizzly bear. Our first grizzly sighting! The bear was about 150 ft off of the roadway and grazing near the railroad tracks. There were many trees in the area which precluded getting a fully open view. Some of the tourists even walked half way into the woods to get a better view. We opted to stay by the road, but, none the less, we got to see a grizzly.

At about 5 miles north of Castle Junction, the Castle Mountain came into view. This is one, very impressive mountain with its rock face. Arriving at Castle Junction, we elected to stay at a cabin. A site just north of this was listed as a park campground but was closed. We were told it was not open yet because of plumbing issues?? We had called the resort earlier to inquire about availability and pricing and were told that they did not reserve one particular cabin without showing it first as it was their oldest cabin and a bit rustic. It had a roof, electricity and plumbing so it fit our needs. It even had a stove, refrigerator and TV as a bonus and at one third the cost of the newer cabins, we were quite content. We turned the heat up and unpacked all of our wet items for drying over night. We showered for the first time in three days (not counting the natural showers provided by the rain) and started charging our laptop and satellite phone. The general store at the resort had lots of food suited for camping so we stocked up. Once again Randall attempted to bleed the disc brake. When the prescribed method did not work, he tried to bleed the system through the rear caliper. It worked! We now had a working disc brake for the two big descents tomorrow.

July 4th marked the 24th anniversary of our first date back in Manhattan, Kansas. We went to Godfather’s Pizza for dinner and went to see the movie, “The Blues Brothers.” We fondly remember that special outing. Traveling across the country, we cherish the opportunity to say, “I love you,” on a daily basis. We could not do this ride alone as we see many single riders do.

Miles cycled – 55.0

July 5, 2004

Train whistles blew almost hourly during our somewhat restful night. We knew we were several hundred feet from a track but had no idea the trains were so frequent and since the tracks crossed a nearby road, the whistles were mandatory. An ambitious 7 AM start turned into an 8 AM one as we got one more wink of sleep. This day’s ride had special meaning for us as we had biked this same route 7 years earlier. Using our 2 folding single bikes, we biked what the locals called “The Golden Triangle” (Castle Junction to Radium Hot Springs to Golden to Castle Junction). It was our first attempt at cycle touring and with the mountains and light travel gear to get us from motel to motel; we achieved our three day goal. It was a very ambitious tour on our part back in 1997 but, a definite confidence builder.

So there we were on this Monday morning, 7 years later with one bicycle and about 90 pounds more weight heading west and then south on the Banff Windermere Highway (yes, that’s a third named highway that would not easily fit in title at top of this page). We biked only 0.4 mile before we began 4 miles of climbing to reach Vermilion Pass at 5,380 feet. At 2 miles up, we started seeing single bike riders riding down the mountain. There was about a dozen of them and they were widely spread out. After reaching 3 miles of climbing, we saw additional riders coming out of a lodge driveway which explained to us the extent of their ride. They were on one of the many luxury supported rides which went from lodge to lodge with the organizers carrying their luggage for them. They only needed a small bag to carry a bit of food and clothing. It was a sunny morning (thankfully) and the clouds covering the tops of the surrounding mountains were starting to drift away.

Reaching the pass, we were about to cross over the Continental Divide (our 4th crossing on this adventure). A nice sign marked this crossing so we had the driver of a tour bus parked there take our photo. We had seen his tour bus a couple of days earlier just north of the Columbia Icefield. This bus, which looked like a traditional bus in the front half, had a raised back end which consisted of sleep quarters. He told Barb that his 18 European tourists on board were on a 50 day tour. Astounding! He went on to explain that since there was no shower option on board, they spend each night at a campground where showers are available. We suppose that there is some advantage to be able to sleep in the same bed night after night after night!

Continuing on from the continental divide, we were now back in British Columbia (the continental divide is the border for much of BC and Alberta). However, we were still in the Mountain Time Zone. Our fun descent was supposed to begin but a strong headwind was not cooperating. During the descent, we stopped to look at a milky blue creek gushing along, just below the road. We thought we had seen about every color of water possible! The fire damage to the area’s forest was now just coming into view. The Kootenay Park had a substantial fire in August, 2003, which wiped out a lot of scenic timber. Seeing the devastation from the fire (started by lighting) can leave you in a daze. At 25 miles, a quick shifting mountain shower preceded to soak us. Two miles later, a cafe stop rescued us from the rain as we went inside to have some sandwiches for lunch.

With our prior descent long behind us, we enjoyed two dozen flat miles through the scenic valley. The road shoulder was very wide and was in good condition except for a few miles where there were cracks wide enough to swallow up a bicycle tire. So, we zoomed across the valley, seeing four oncoming touring cyclists along the way. Two were a couple on a tandem pulling a trailer. They were stopped, changing a flat on their rear tire. Another cyclist was an Asian man traveling alone. Many of the campground operators along our route had told us that they get a lot of Asian men cycling through but this guy was the first one we had seen. At one point an elk crossed the road in front of us. This elk had both a collar and an ear tag. The elk was not too concerned by us and stayed in the grassy area off the right shoulder to graze. Another elk could be seen in the woods beyond.

After 50 some miles, we began the second and final pass (Sinclair Pass at 4,875 ft) of the day. Even though this pass was 500 ft lower than the prior pass, we were 900 ft lower in elevation at the start. After three miles of climbing, we stopped at an observation point to check out the view. We then climbed yet another three miles before we reached the top (which was marked with one of our favorite signs, “Passing Lane Ends in 200 M”). Comparing our past single bike climbing of these two passes with our tandem bike climbing, we can confidently state that climbing with a tandem is no more difficult but, in fact, easier (many single bike cyclists like to bash tandems when discussing climbing). Advancing a bit further, there was an extra lane for trucks to test their brakes before a very steep descent. We checked our refreshed disk brake. Yep, it’s working. A quarter of a mile down, we slammed on the brakes for a good photo opportunity. A small flock of mountain sheep were along the road. We soared down the mountain, stopping near the bottom for more photos of a short tunnel, interesting rock formations and the famous hot springs. Radium Hot Springs is not a large town (pop. 583) but apparently prospers with their hot springs as there are 27 motels/hotels listed for the area. We checked into a motel, planning to stay two nights to provide for our day of rest and website updates.

Miles cycled – 67.3

July 6, 2004

Randall worked on our journal late into the night and Barb got up early to continue our efforts. We walked to a restaurant for breakfast which the motel operator recommended. The food was good, but there must be an ordinance that nothing gets served fast in this town. The service for dinner the night before was slow as it was also slow seven years ago when we were here. This establishment was playing a CD of the worst country music songs ever recorded including “Rhinestone Cowboy”, “Satin Sheets” and “I’m not Lisa.” Barb was temporarily envious of Randall’s hearing loss. We were back to working on the website and taking care of various errands. This town even offered a car wash so the bike got a much needed cleaning. However, our plan to use the library to maximize our computer time did not work as the library is only opened two hours on two days of the week.

Miles cycled – 1.5

Related Photos Back

 

Wayback Machine

AUG AUG SEP
Previous capture 27 Next capture
2007 2009 2010
15 captures
5 Aug 04 – 27 Aug 09
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos The Prince George, BC to Jasper, AB Stage (via the Yellowhead Highway) Back

 

June 28, 2004

We awoke this morning with it raining outside. Thank goodness, we were staying in a motel! The rain stopped at mid morning as we worked through the morning on our journal. The operator of the motel had checked out our website and was supportive of our efforts. He gave us a donation and encouraged us to go to the local paper, The Citizen, and talk to a reporter. We stopped by the newspaper office and were directed to the city editor. It was election day in Canada so most of the newspaper staffing was covering the election activities. The city editor was able to arrange to have someone take our picture standing with our bike and trailer in front of the building. A reporter also came outside to interview us for about 10 minutes. He wore a hat which made him look like a reporter right out of the Daily Planet from the 1950s Superman TV series. He was very soft-spoken and with the street noise, rather difficult to hear. We gave him the details of when and where we started, our planned route to Florida, and talked about how Habitat for Humanity works. He didn’t know when or even if the story would be printed. We asked him to mail a copy of the story to Barb’s sister.

Although the reporter expressed concern for our safety while biking in the downtown area, we got lots of positive responses and curious questions while riding our tandem around town. We headed to the post office, the grocery store and to Wendy’s to eat before heading out of town at 2 PM. We planned to go only 40 miles to the first available services for the night. This made for a lighter travel day but we would need to cover 90 miles the next day to get to the next service area.

Hopping onto the Yellowhead Highway for the first time, we left town going east and then crossed a long bridge over the Fraser River. Given the available walkway and heavy traffic, we opted to walk the bike across the bridge to savor the view. As we climbed out of the valley, we saw a sign saying “Hitchhiking is illegal and Do not pick up hitchhikers,” before passing a correctional facility. The highway was in good condition with a nice shoulder. The concaved rumble strips were close to the white, highway edge line, giving us more shoulder room. Having reached the height of our climb, we stopped at a convenience to get some Gatorade. From that point forward, our climbing was minimal as we were making good time.

After 15 miles, dark rain clouds were becoming prominent ahead of us so we stopped to put on our tights and jackets and to change to our yellow sunglass lenses. At 19 miles into the ride, the rain began, complete with lightening and thunder. The rain started out light and then dropped in heavier amounts for the last half of our ride. This was the heaviest rain we had seen, so we have been fortunate to miss the heavy stuff. We have found that there is nothing quite like a couple of wet cyclists to get the motorists to pass with a wide berth. During the rainy ride, we passed two stopped motorcyclists who were scurrying to get some more covering on themselves. We kept biking to keep as warm as possible and didn’t stop until we reached the Purden Lake Resort at 41 miles (22 miles without stopping was a first on this tour!). We were thoroughly soaked. The owner had a luxury cabin with two bedrooms and a loft which he would let us have for the price of the smaller one bedroom cabin provided we only slept in one bed. We gladly took the cabin and eagerly huddled around the gas fireplace to warm up. We showered, changed into dry clothes and set the wet things about the fireplace to dry. Dinner was macaroni and cheese prepared in an actual kitchen using a full sized kettle and eating off of real dishes. We were in paradise even if this meant doing dishes. We hit the sack early as we were hoping for a dry day ahead.

Miles cycled – 41.4

June 29, 2004

As we were packing the bike and trailer, a man from Missouri staying in the nearby RV park came over to chat. He had seen us arrive the night before, soaking wet, and thought it was best to wait until morning to ask about our adventure. He returned to his RV and then came back with a check for Habitat.

We were off and pedaling at 7:45 AM as we looked to tackle a lot of miles (the next services are 90 miles away in McBride). For the first 20 miles, the morning was quite foggy. No more rain, but the fog was thick enough in places to make us feel wet. After 17 miles we saw our first critters of the day. A bear sow and her cub were on the opposite side of the road. Our arrival startled them very much as they fled into the nearby woods very fast, too fast to get a good photo. Three miles later, we took a rest break. A west bond motorist stopped and cautioned us about the bears in the area. He said to be on the lookout for bears as their numbers were higher than usual this year.

In the next 20 miles, the hills were becoming longer and the sun finally burned away the fog. With the fog gone, we realized we had reached yet another plateau. We have now biked 2,000 miles on this wonderful journey! Another thousand miles, another photo opportunity. Going up a slight hill, we saw a second critter. About 300 feet away, it was crossing the road from left to right and then it trotted a few steps down our shoulder before dashing into the woods. It appeared to be a coyote, but was very tall so it might have been a wolf. This critter was also too fast and too distant for our camera.

About mid day, we flushed a small black bear out from the right shoulder. He was startled by our presence and ran up the hill a bit before stopping to stand. Bears do not have very good eyesight, but do have a good sense of smell. They will stand on their hind legs to get a better whiff to help them determine what is happening around them. While he was trying to determine what we were, we were quickly scanning for any mama bear, but none was evident.

Reaching a small rock quarry along the side of the road at 1:30 PM, we stopped for a lunch. The large rocks set up to block the entrance of the quarry made nice seating (and table) while we munched on peanuts, apples, carrots, chips and cookies. This site also put us a little more distant from the trees in case a bear was in the area.

We used the satellite phone to contact the one hotel in McBride which had a phone number listed in our guidebook. It appeared as though we might not get to McBride until 8 PM and we didn’t want to arrive that late without having lodging established. The hotel clerk asked where we were. We told her we were passed Slim Creek. She advised us that we still had a couple more hills to climb. We later found that one of those hills was at Goat River. Goat River was a very pretty setting so we stopped for more photos as the following hill looked pretty substantial. That hill turned out to be 2 miles long with a passing lane. The Yellowhead Highway is a major truck route in Canada as we had never seen so many semi trucks. Every hill, no matter how large or small, seemed to have a passing lane. This road was certainly designed for trucks!

With about 15 miles to go, we began to question whether we would make it by 8 PM as the hills and heat were draining us. Seventy-five miles of pedaling in this up and down terrain was quite an accomplishment. Then, we hit the river valley and just flew. While going 20 mph, we passed a bear on the right. We were going too fast for him to figure out what was happening. As we approached McBride, we could see the return to an agricultural setting like what we had seen north of Prince George. Checking into the hotel, we looked forward to biking along the fields the next day.

Miles cycled – 91.0

June 30, 2004

We stayed in the hotel room until 12 noon downloading photos to our website. Being 100 miles away from Jasper, our camping options down the road were at 40, 45 and 49 miles. We set our sights for 45 miles so that the balance, which included a long climb after Mt. Robson, would be only 55 miles. The indications were that the terrain was fairly flat, so we thought half a day for this 45 mile segment was sufficient. We forgot to consider the heat and wind factors. It was a very long afternoon.

The view was quite scenic as there were mountains on both sides of the highway and neatly inserted at the foot of the mountains were miles of fields, growing mostly hay for the horses and cattle. One place along the way offered trail rides on horseback. They appeared to have plenty of barns for the horses. As we stopped to rest after one bridge, it was a treat to see a pickup from the 1950s, hauling hay down the road. On the sides of some mountains, there was evidence of previous clear cut harvesting of the timber. Small trees were planted in these areas in a managed forest environment.

Reaching Tere-Jaune Cache Junction, we stopped at the convenience store to enjoy some refreshments and rest. After this stop, we found ourselves biking right along the Fraser River once again. We stopped a couple of times along the river for photos as it was impressive. We then passed by two, upright gate posts which are used to close the highway in the winter time as needed.

Being just miles away from Mt. Robson, we found ourselves climbing up and up. One rest stop during this climb provided a good view of Mount Terry Fox, named in memory of the Canadian cancer victim who raised 25 million dollars for cancer research in his attempt to run across Canada in 1980. This was after his leg was amputated because of cancer. Sadly, the cancer had spread to his lungs and he was not able to complete his trek.

Less than a mile later, we reached our target campsite. We picked a private campground along the Fraser River as we thought it would have better shower facilities than the government campground four miles beyond. We were surprised to learn that the washrooms and the campsites were separated by a 5 minute walk (with a steep hill involved). On the plus side, we had a gorgeous view of Mount Robson. From the campsite, this snow covered mountain looked impressive but not much taller than the surrounding mountains. But when you consider where the tree line was on Mount Robson and realize that this tree line, which is only a third of the way up Mount Robson, was at the same altitude as the tree lines on the nearby mountains (where it is nearly at the top), you begin to get a truer sense of its size.

This campground was smaller scale than the ones we’ve seen on the Alaskan and Hart Highways and could only accommodate smaller RVs. Our neighbors were all Europeans in rented RVs. One man from Holland was quite curious about our bike gear and our trip and kept asking questions while we just wanted to set up the tent, get showered and go to bed.

Miles cycled – 45.4

July 1, 2004

Before leaving camp, we chatted with a couple from Victoria Island. They told us that Jasper is not as commercial as Banff, nor will it become that way. Because of its location in a national park, only the people who own a business in Jasper, work in Jasper or were born in Jasper can own property there. This may keep the town small and quaint, but this also means that the costs of hotel accommodations are sky high. Today was Canada Day and Jasper was having special events so the town was expected to be crowded.

Leaving the campsite, we stopped a number of times along the highway to take photos of Mount Robson as the view was incredible. Whether you are traveling east on Yellowhead Highway by bike, motorbike, RV or car, there is nothing quite like venturing towards Mount Robson as the highway appears to go right into the mountain. Mount Robson is the tallest mountain in the Canadian Rockies at nearly 13,000 feet. A few miles down the road was a restaurant and visitor center at the base of Mount Robson. We managed to beat the tour bus crowd that arrived just minutes later as we stopped at the restaurant for breakfast. It was an exceptional breakfast scene, being able to look out the window towards Mount Robson. The visitor center was very nicely done and the mood there was quite festive for Canada Day.

Leaving Mount Robson behind (this was hard to do; you could stare at this setting all day), we found a bit more climbing to do. The ascent was precarious in some places as the shoulder was partially covered with concrete barriers. There also drains placed in the shoulder every 300 ft or so. These 3 ft square drains were recessed a couple of inches so they could do some damage to a bicycle wheel. Because the drain was so wide, it came within inches of the concave rumble strip. To miss the drain, we had to bike over the rumble strip briefly.

We were passed by single bikers on two occasions. Neither had much gear with them as they did not appear to be touring. They were however, serious bikers out for a challenging ride.

As we completed the climbing, we reach Moose Lake. What a gorgeous view! We stopped a number of places along the lake to take in the scenery. At one stop, we saw a west bound train go through. Towards the east end of the lake, we took additional photos and yet another west bound train came through. Several of the open-top cars were carrying bulk loads of what appeared to be the yellow, canola seed.

We knew we had a pass over the Continental Divide at about 45 miles into our ride. At 3,760 feet, Yellowhead Pass would be our highest pass so far this trip. After climbing around Mount Robson earlier in the day, we didn’t seem to be climbing much, which was puzzling to us. The road followed the Fraser River valley and although we were going upriver, we rarely used our lowest gears. At 11 miles before the pass, we began to think we would be in for a big climb. At five miles before the pass, we wondered when we would start climbing. At three miles before the pass, we were looking ahead to see if a passing lane was being adding. At one mile before the pass, we still were using our middle chain ring. What is going on? Yellowhead Pass was named for an Iroquois trapper and guide who worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company in the early 1800s. The French voyagers called him Yellowhead because he had light colored hair. He must have been a pretty good guide because he found the easiest way out of the valley!

The Continental Divide also marks the boundary between British Columbia and Alberta. We were now in our fourth state/territory/province of our journey! The Mountain Time zone begins here as well so we lose an hour. Our trip south will eventually take us back over the Continental Divide and back into British Columbia. Barb talked to a couple from Edmonton who was picnicking in the rest area at the divide. They gave her a chocolate, walnut and caramel treat they bought at the gourmet chocolate shop in Jasper.

We were told by locals that as we later go south from Jasper, we will be going up, up, up. From that, we concluded that the final dozen miles east to Jasper will be down, down, down. We were correct with that logic. We made good time barreling down the highway, despite a wind that was gusty at times. A rainy front was coming in from behind us, contributing to a wobbly descent. Along the way, there were numerous warning signs for rock slides. This stretch of highway, in fact, had a lot of signs; “Don’t Drink and Drive, Don’t Litter, Watch out for Wildlife, etc.” as it seemed that Alberta was trying to cover all of the regulatory bases at their entrance way.

We had reserved a room in Jasper from a list of hotels we got at the Mount Robson information center. Everything was very expensive so we picked the cheapest one with phone lines in the room. After unloading our gear and trailer in the room, we headed to the town center to check out the bicycle shops. Randall found a replacement helmet mirror and we got a couple more packages of dehydrated food. There was a laundry facility at the hotel for this necessary chore.

Miles cycled – 60.5

Related Photos Back

 

 

Wayback Machine

AUG AUG SEP
Previous capture 28 Next capture
2007 2008 2009
14 captures
5 Aug 04 – 28 Aug 08
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos The Dawson Creek, BC to Prince George, BC Stage (via the Hart Highway) Back

 

June 24, 2004

Overnight, our hand-washed clothes hung on our clothes line strung between two trees. Barb checked on them at 4 AM and they were still damp, so we put them on and got back into our sleeping bags, hoping to dry them out a bit before we got up in two hours. While eating breakfast, a couple from Orlando, Florida who live along US 27 (our planned route) offered to have us over when we get to that area. As we were breaking camp, a second camper also asked where we were biking to. She said her aunt was the famous “Cookie Lady” based in Virginia (featured in past issues of Adventure Cyclist magazine). We were familiar with this story (the lady has served thousands of touring cyclists her cookies) and were pleased to meet a cycling enthusiast who was related to the Cookie Lady. We stopped for breakfast 10 miles down the highway. The cook was curious about our trip and said she would print out the story for the others that worked there. She was very thrilled that we stopped at her location for a meal.

The Hart Highway (finally, something different from Alaskan Highway) started out very straight and was somewhat flat. It was definitely an agricultural setting with lots of horses, fields, and numerous dirt side roads. A railroad track paralleled the route and we saw a long east bound train in the morning. This route was not as crowded with traffic as the Alaskan Highway has been. Most traveling to Jasper from Dawson Creek go east through Grande Prairie and some locals questioned our route selection. But it is a beautiful area and we don’t have as many RVs to contend with.

As morning was closing out, it was time for a snack break and a convenience store along the route was an opportune stop. As we were checking out the snack selections, the clerk offered that there was a cafe just a few miles down the road. Appreciative of that scoop, we bought some Gatorade and headed for the cafe. Ordering a hefty lunch at the Pine River Cafe, some locals at a neighboring table asked about our trip. Given that the elections were just a few days away (June 28th) the conversation turned quickly to politics. There wasn’t a lot of enthusiasm to vote for many of the same reasons given in the states. As we were leaving, Barb asked the cafe operator to fill a water bottle. The response was, “We pay for our water around here.” Don’t doubt that they do. We had tried some of the water and it has a lot of iron taste to it. We saw a lot of pickups hauling water tanks.

Leaving the cafe, we continued a long descent, reaching the Pine River bridge, a pretty setting. The railroad bridge to the east is as impressive as the highway bridge. After crossing Pine River, we had a 4 mile climb with rare switchbacks. Most river valleys we’ve seen have not had the real estate to accommodate switchbacks. This allowed for a moderate climb to the top of the hill. The terrain remained mostly flat until a steep descent into Chetwynd. Chetwynd claims to be the Chainsaw Sculpture Capital of the World (with 45 sculptures throughout the town). It was also the Forestry Capital of Canada in 1992. That must have been before the chainsaws turned everything into sculptures. We stopped for groceries at IGA and later had dinner at A&W. An older man at the restaurant asked a lot of questions about our trip. When we mentioned we had a website with all the details, he said he didn’t have anything to do with those new fangled things. He added, he didn’t even have a Slinky when he was younger.

We went to the visitor center to confirm the existence of a campground 10 miles south of town before we biked past the closer campgrounds. The lady there insisted that it was not only downhill to that campsite, it was downhill all the way to Pine Pass Summit even though according to our guide book the pass was 800 feet above Chetwynd. She knew it was downhill because “You always get better gas mileage driving to Prince George than driving back.”

We set up camp at the RV park. There were only six other campers (all RVs). The tenting area was a grassy area to the east side. The operator of the campground said that they had not seen any bears around and that the bears usually show up on the neighboring hill first, so we did not hang the food but just packed it in the trailer. Since the nearest trees (for hanging our wet clothes) were behind a barb wire fence, we dried the clothes in the Laundromat at the site. We were asleep soon after 9 PM. About 10:25 PM, we were awaken by a tremendous noise and shaking ground as the train roared by on the tracks we had paralleled all day. Fortunately it lasted only 3 minutes and we were soon asleep again. In the morning we confirmed that the tracks were only 100 feet away, just beyond the fence and a row of trees.

Miles cycled – 70.9

June 25, 2004

Leaving at 7:30 AM, we were hoping for a lot of “flat miles” today so that we could reach the distant lodging options as there was not much in between. We begin by chasing the Pine River and the railroad tracks. Will we catch up with that noisy train? Unlike previous riverside roads we have been on, this one was fairly flat. We saw deer dancing across the road on a couple of occasions but they were too fast to catch on camera. The road was quite curvy in places and the river in a mountain setting gave us spectacular views. After 25 miles we got our first glimpse of the massive power lines which transport power from the hydroelectric plant in Hudson’s Hope down to Prince George, British Columbia’s fourth largest city (80,000 population in the town itself and twice that in the area).

At a rest stop, we met two couples traveling in smaller campers. They asked if we had seen the moose in the creek up the road. Unfortunately, we had not. They commented that there weren’t as many big RVs on this highway. This was OK with us as about 20 miles into our ride, the shoulder disappeared completely and did not reappear until forty miles later. Soon after this stop, we were climbing a moderate hill on a curve with a rock wall to our right and limited visibility. A king size RV came up from behind us and had to brake as there was oncoming traffic. They blasted their horn at us for holding them up for 10 seconds and reducing their gas mileage (our first irate horn and probably not our last).

At 11:15 AM, we reached the only service stop and had grilled cheese sandwiches. This establishment, like about half of them we have seen, was for sale. The operator said after 19 years it was time for a change. He indicated that the Hart Highway traffic was down because of the higher gas prices. When he learned that we were leaving Michigan, he said we could buy his place!

Heading on, the scenery was really picking up now with the river and the mountains closing in on us. The area next to the highway was filled with wildflowers. The quantity and variety was greater than anything we had seen before. These road side flowers were white, yellow, orange, red, blue and our personal favorite, purple.

A few miles before the pass, the shoulder returned and was 6 to 8 ft wide. Yeah! When riding on a shoulder-less highway with moderate traffic, steering is really a burden. Randall’s hands became numb at twice the frequency as he was more intensely gripping the handlebars. It didn’t help that one semi driver decided to pass us with oncoming traffic. With numbing hands, more frequent rests were needed but on this 40 mile stretch of shoulder-less highway, the opportunities to stop were rare.

Surprisingly, we did little climbing as the only serious climb was only 1/2 mile at 4 to 6% grade to reach the pass. Although this is the highest point on the Hart Highway, it is the lowest pass over the Rocky Mountains in Canada. Our guide book said it was 2,868 ft (874 m) high, but the sign at the pass claimed it was 933 m (3,062 feet). After reaching the pass, we had 4.5 miles of downhill. At 3 miles of downhill, we zoomed by the Bijoux Falls and then slammed on our brakes. This waterfall was too pretty to pass up, so we turned around and peddled 200 feet back to the falls.

The road beyond the falls continued to be very curvy as we were leaving the mountains behind us. There was just a continuous, slight up and down in the last 20 miles which we used to our advantage. We made very good time as we were able to “slingshot” down the short slopes and then hold our momentum so that we would reach the top of the next slope and still be going in a double digit speeds (10 mph or faster).

We reached McKenzie Junction Cafe which advertised tent camping, but the operator would not allow us to tent camp because bears were said to be in the area. She recommended another service area a couple of miles down the road. That’s one mile down to the river and then one mile up to the Windy Point Inn. They had a bed and breakfast option for a reasonable price. The room was on the 2nd floor (that’s the 3rd floor for those that spell color without a “u”). So we carried things up two steep flights of stairs and then locked up our bike and trailer behind the building.

Miles cycled – 84.0

June 26, 2004

The restaurant was late opening up in the morning, but we stayed to eat as the next services were in Bear Lake, 49 miles away. Some of the restaurant’s tables had data ports so we were able to retrieve email while we waited for breakfast. Two hummingbirds were observed flying outside the restaurant. They put on quite a show for us with their high-speed wing flapping and their ability to dart around. Just as we were leaving, a couple pulled along side our tandem and inquired about our adventure. Impressed, they quickly give us a donation for Habitat.

Our road today turned out to be wonderfully flat with occasional slight ups and downs (more fun slingshots like the day before). The first 18 miles even had a gloriously wide shoulder and most of the rest had at least some shoulder. We followed McLeod Lake and the Crooked River for several miles. There were more colorful wildflowers along our path as they were quite a treat for our eyes. Also along the way, we could see lily pads floating in the nearby pools of water. For a Saturday morning, the traffic was surprisingly light. Naturally, as we got closer to Prince George, the traffic thickened.

As we approached Bear Lake, its main industry, lumber products, was very prevalent. We saw four road side signs along the way which cautioned about log trucks pulling out onto the highway. We saw a lot of log trucks. Two-thirds of the town’s 300 population are said to be connected to the area’s two saw mills. Every now and then, Randall would have to steer around a piece of bark or small chunk of wood which had fallen off of the log trucks (reminded us of the time we biked through Sebewaing, Michigan during the height of sugar beet harvest). After 49 miles, we were ready for lunch in Bear Lake. The restaurant listed in our guide book was closed. The nearby gas station had sandwiches and tables to eat at so we bought 3 liters of fluids and enjoyed our lunch at 70 F (as opposed to the mid 80s outside). Heading south of Bear Lake, we continued to see a lot of log trucks and even saw a string of railroad cars loaded with logs. You could see the trucks coming down the side roads from some distance as they made a big cloud of dust.

After several miles, we had a short, moderate climb to Summit Lake. This is actually a continental divide although it is lower than the pass we crossed yesterday. Between Swift and Rancheria rivers in the Northern Rockies (about a 900 miles earlier), we had crossed from the Pacific Ocean watershed to the Arctic Ocean watershed. Now we were reentering the Pacific Ocean watershed. This continental divide was not marked with a sign nor mentioned in our guidebook. It was noted on other maps we have.

Getting closer to Prince George, we had a fast descent to the Salmon River and then had a long, gradual climb (about 10 miles), before reaching the outskirts of town. After 90 miles, we very much welcomed the four mile descent into Prince George (even with the traffic being heavy). Since the bypass to the downtown area was not obvious to us, we continued on the main highway and ended up a mile to the west so we had to weave our way back east to the downtown area and our hotel. We checked in, showered and began to determine what was within walking distance. We strolled over to a nearby Chinese restaurant and pigged out on their smorgasbord. There were lots of veggies, meats and even ice cream to choose from. Early to bed for us!

Miles cycled – 96.0

June 27, 2004

We got up at 6:30 AM and walked around to check on the library hours (closed on Sundays in the summer) and available eating places. We had a nice breakfast at the White Spot which is similar to a Bakers Square in the states. We later walked to the 9 AM service at Sacred Heart Cathedral. Father John talked about freedom of choice. He started with a question that had been asked of him, “Why did God create us if he knew that we would make choices which would cause us pain?” He answered, “Because God loves us,” and drew an analogy to bike riding. “Why would our parents let us bike without training wheels knowing that we would fall down at least a few times and get hurt? Why would our parents let us bike away from our own house knowing we could get hurt? Because, they loved us enough to let us grow up. And wouldn’t it be boring if we didn’t venture out?” We talked to Fr. John afterwards and told him how we could relate to his message. He was interested in our trip and even gave us a donation. We returned to the hotel to work on our journal and website. While Randall selected photos, Barb walked to a nearby Laundromat. It was now pouring and the rain would continue for most of the day (we picked the right rest day!). We ordered pizza in for dinner to close out a restful day.

Miles cycled – 0

Related Photos Back

 

 

Wayback Machine

AUG AUG SEP
Previous capture 28 Next capture
2007 2008 2009
15 captures
6 Jul 04 – 28 Aug 08
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos The Fort Nelson, BC to Dawson Creek, BC Stage (via the Alaskan Highway) Back

 

June 19, 2004

Our departure out of Fort Nelson was a fairly late one at 11:30 AM. We had worked in earnest earlier that morning to finish the latest website update. We still made a decent biking day out of it however as we had a slight tailwind and the terrain was somewhat flat with some hills. As we were rolling out of town, we discovered that the 9V battery on our intercom (called Tandem Talk) was dead. Since the tandem does not operate properly without the intercom (voice and emotional levels are elevated), we quickly stopped at the last convenience store opportunity to pick up a battery. Life was good!

This day looked to be a scorcher. The convenience store display in Fort Nelson read 30 C (86 F) and we didn’t expect to be wearing just shorts and jerseys until we reached the states. Fortunately, the soft breezes cooled us a little. Immediately south of Fort Nelson was the Mushwa River Bridge, the lowest point on the Alaska Highway (at a elevation of 1,000 feet). Although much of today’s ride looked flat, we were actually climbing, gaining 1,000 feet elevation overall. As the setting changed to a more flat terrain with fewer hills, we saw that we no longer had the open range as fences were now consistently placed along the road.

By mid morning, Randall was experiencing “knots in his stomach” as he suspected his body was reacting to the water he had packed in his Camelbak earlier in the day. We threw that water out and drank the water we had stored in the trailer that we had gotten a few days earlier at Tetsa River. Randall recovered after a couple of hours and we later gave the Camelbak a good cleaning.

We did not see any bears but motorists we talked to said they saw some along the highway. Perhaps the tailwind tips off the bears that some humans are coming down the road. With the heat, most of them would rather be in the cooler woods.

There were no services for this stretch of 50 plus miles so reaching Lum ‘N’ Abner’s at Prophet River was quite satisfying. The establishment claims to be the first in operation on the Alaskan Highway, opening in 1938 four years before the highway was built. We are the only tent among six RVs. Two guys from separate campsites approached us after we set up our tent to ask about our trip. We showered, washing our clothes in the process. We hung the wet clothes on the clothesline, hoping they will be dry in the morning. Randall went to the cafe to get some cold pop to drink and spent a while talking to the operator of this establishment.

Miles cycled – 56.7

June 20, 2004

We woke up to a slightly cooler morning to find that our clothes were completely dry from the warm breezes during the night. We had breakfast in the cafe with Randall having his favorite, French toast and bacon and Barb having hot cakes and bacon. At around 8:30 AM, we started biking as we were the last ones out of the RV park. It was already warm out so we wore just our jerseys and shorts.

The shoulder was fairly wide but had a rough surface most of the time so we biked on the highway when we could. There was very little traffic southbound in the morning. No significant wind today and not enough breeze to keep us cool. Guess this will help us for transitioning to the hot plains states!

We are seeing more hills today and they seem bigger than they really are because of the heat factor. Pedaling up a half-mile long hill, a small white car with plates from British Columbia pulled onto the shoulder of the road about a quarter mile behind us and then slowly drove along. Eventually they passed us (they on the shoulder and we, on the edge of the highway). That seemed kind of odd as they just smiled and waved at us as they passed by on the wrong side at 10 mph. Were they just curious about how fast we were moving or did they not trust their car’s ability to make it up the hill?

By 3 PM, we had had enough of the heat. Having climbed a few hills, we stopped at a small stream along the side of the road and doused our jerseys and feet in the cool water. Our shirts were dry again after 8 miles but it was nice to be cool again. It was really a sluggish day as it seemed like we were always climbing. The hills were not too long (1/2 to 3/4 mile), but they never went away! No flat roads to enjoy on this day but one long descent about one mile before we stopped for the night. No caribou or moose were seen but signs warned us more than once about their presence on the highway. We figured that they were like the bears, hiding out in the cool shade. As the afternoon progressed, the traffic got very heavy in both directions as everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere.

At the service area at Buckinghorse River where we spent the night, two helicopters were shuttling firefighting trainees back and forth. The trainees had an “open base camp” facility which are trailers with small rooms for one person each and common shower areas to accommodate work crews. Along our travels down the Alaskan Highway, we have seen several trucks hauling these trailers. They may not appear to be much in the way of housing but in a remote area, they’re nice to have. The copters hovered around into the night but we were tired enough to sleep through the noise.

Miles cycled – 54.0

June 21, 2004

We awoke this morning with the helicopters hovering back and forth, did they fly all through the night? The day looked to be cooler as the clouds to the east and north looked like high potential for rain . Noticing the trend that the hills were getting more and more challenging, we made it a point to get an early start. Now, we had another incentive. We want to be cooler but we don’t want to be soaked with rain. For the first twelve miles, we climbed up and down the curvy road with a sense of urgency as the clouds behind became darker. Turbulent winds (the kind that are at the leading edge of a storm) blasted us unexpectedly at 30 to 40 mph at four different occasions, nearly blowing our tandem over. As we reached the top of a hill, we viewed a dark blue front over our southern path. Now, we are surrounded! We resigned ourselves to getting drenched and stopped to put on our rain booties and jacket sleeves. To our surprise, when we reach the dark area before us, it turned out to be a thick haze. We only felt a couple of rain drops. So we biked on, both dry and cooler!

After a steep decent, we stopped at a rest stop at Sikanni Chief for a drink and a snack. This scenic, river valley site offered RV and tent camping and was earlier considered for a camp site before we faced the heat and the hills. This location had one of the more distinctive outhouses that we had seen.

As always, when you drop into a river valley, you must climb back out. We had no idea what lay ahead. Crossing the river bridge, we could see the road curve steeply to the right. A sign warns, “No Stopping, Rock Slides” and we wondered, was 4 mph fast enough? After 100 feet, we were already shifting to our third lowest gear. The shoulder was appreciable at 6 to 8 feet but there were some large and small loose rocks from previous slides to dodge occasionally. In another 50 feet, we are shifting to our second lowest gear, one of the loneliest gears on the tandem. Exasperated after another 100 feet of climbing, we shifted to our lowest gear (last used this gear for a hill north of Muncho Lake). After climbing 1 mile, Barb called out the traffic update. “Semi back… no, that’s two semis back!” It was an intriguing time for a large truck to pass a tandem. The tandem was going 3 mph. The truck was going 10 to 15 mph. We HEARD the truck for what seemed like an hour before we actually SAW it. After climbing a couple of miles, we get a good view of a curvy, paved road to the side which was the old route. The full extent of this hill was not known until after four miles of climbing. There were initially, two curvy miles at 9% grade, 1/8 mile at 5% grade (for a breather) and then one more mile at 9% grade before tapering off to 5% grade for the last mile. What was the toughest hill to climb on southbound Alaskan Highway? This hill wins, no question at all. This hill would have been an even greater burden if we did not have fresh legs and cool temperatures. While we were recovering at the top, a northbound SUV carrying bikes on the backend stopped and offered us Gatorade packages. We had plenty of Gatorade, but appreciated the offer.

Guess we really were in hill country now. It was up and down, up and down. The shoulder became a real disappointment as the traffic picked up in the mid morning. There was 6″ to 18″ of good pavement to the right of the white edge line. The balance of the 3 foot shoulder was a combination of pavement and loose gravel. Barb was very busy with traffic updates as we tried to stay on the smoother part of highway as much as possible. If there was no oncoming traffic, we would hold our position, riding over the white edge line. Most motorists gave us a wide berth. As semi traffic and large RVs (which have unpredictable wind blasts) passed us, we would take the rugged ride on the shoulder.

At 11 AM, we reached Mae’s Kitchen which advertised home cooked meals. Seeing a long climb ahead of us, it was time to refuel. Just up the road was a competing cafe called Sasquatch Crossing which we passed on as we figured the promotion was better than the food. Knowing that Pink Mountain summit was ahead of us, we asked the waitress how the climb was. She said it was no big deal as she had biked up it. Wow, we had met someone who could relate from a cycling standpoint.

We advanced up Pink Mountain without issue, stopping halfway up to enjoy the scenery. A motorist in an extend cab pickup stopped and asked if we were OK, which was nice of them. After days without anyone inquiring about our wellbeing, we have two vehicles do this in one day. Are we meeting people who are not weary from weeks of travel or are we beginning to look weary ourselves? Who knows, but we do feel we are getting stronger as our tour progressed. We made it to Pink Mountain summit at 12:30 PM. The mountain was named for its predominant fall color. It was not a challenging climb especially after having faced the Sikanni Chief River hill earlier.

Having completed the summit, we noticed that the shoulder was now in pretty good shape and about 6 feet wide. This was nice as the number of wide loads passing us was higher than usual. One small annoyance was the asphalt filler placed to fill in the payment cracks. Wide seams of filler extended over onto the shoulder as well. Since this shoulder does not see enough traffic to get the filler flattened out, it felt like a speed bump going downhill. Another most precarious situation was about 1/8 mile of a 1.5 mile hill we were climbing was bordered with concrete barriers which left only 1.5 feet of shoulder. We were relieved that no one had to pass us on this stretch. When we had reached just 10 feet beyond this tight fit, a string of 3 RVs, 2 semi-trucks and 2 cars passed us against oncoming traffic. Someone was looking out for us!

The afternoon was just filled with hills. There must have been at least a dozen hills with lengths exceeding a mile of climbing. We thought our toughest day would be the one going along through the Northern Rockies. Not so. This segment of the Alaskan Highway was giving us a workout. We reached our target destination of Wonowon (pronounced one o one) just before 7 PM. We were never so happy to see services in this small town of 150. Time to rest our tired legs!

Miles cycled – 72.9

June 22, 2004

Leaving at 7:45 AM, it looked to be a warmer day. From the start, it appeared to be another hilly ride but after 10 miles, the hills became smaller and we were averaging 10 MPH despite a 15 MPH headwind. Traffic continued to be heavy, if not heavier. There appeared to be more local traffic, not just the tourists traveling the length of the Alaskan Highway.

We saw a farm field about 30 miles north of Fort St. John, but couldn’t determine what they were growing. We also saw some llamas in a pen near the highway. There was much oil and gas industry between Fort Nelson and Fort St. John. It was quite a smelly operation when traveling on a bicycle, but lots of fuel was needed to run all the big RVs.

After 10 AM, we stopped along the highway to make a couple of calls on our satellite phone. We were still trying to connect with the package Barb’s sister mailed to us on June 10th. The box of bicycle supplies had finally gotten through customs and was now at the Purolator office in Fort Nelson. However, we were now nearly 200 miles south and the company rep for Purolator said it would take two days for them to get it to Dawson Creek. The Fort Nelson Purolator office was located in a home decorating supply store. It was a family run business and they agreed to take the package to the Greyhound office two blocks away for transport to Dawson Creek tomorrow.

The shoulder got real wide 133 kilometers north of Dawson Creek where (according to a sign), there is a change in road maintenance jurisdictions. Nice. Getting within 10 miles of Fort St. John, we could tell we were reaching a larger town (17,000 population) as the billboards became abundant and the dusty side roads were more frequent. Traffic got very heavy as we entered the Charlie Lake area just north of Fort St. John. The petroleum fumes from vehicles and nearby processing plants, the speeding motorists that crowd you off the road and the smell from the grass mowing along the highway (something we haven’t seen for awhile) were a bit overwhelming. These are all things we dealt with while living in the Detroit area, but having six weeks in more remote areas had isolated us from these annoyances.

A Charlie Lake elementary school was getting out and kids were getting on the school buses. Later, a local said that it was the last day of school (June 22nd!). We rode through the Fort St. John business section and stopped at the library to check for local bike shops. Two were listed. The first was more into hockey. The second was truly a bike shop but did not have a replacement helmet mirror for Randall. His current mirror was staying in place as long as the duct tape will hold. We did get their card so we have a phone number to call if we need them to send us bike parts by bus somewhere down the road (via our new best friend, Greyhound).

We stopped for dinner at Wendy’s and it was now quite windy and dark to the north. A storm was coming in so we opted for a nearby motel in Fort St. John. After unloading our bike and trailer, we headed to the local grocery store for breakfast items. It started to rain as we came out of the store and later poured. The TV weather forecasted possible golf ball sized hail so we were glad to be inside.

Miles cycled – 57.6

June 23, 2004

Barb was not feeling well in the morning so we stayed in the hotel later to snooze and be near plumbing. We only needed to go 47 miles to get to Dawson Creek. Because of the overnight rain, it was still cool when we started. Heading out of town, the traffic was heavy as expected. A truck load of logs pulled out in front of us at the outskirts of town which created some photo opportunities as Randall squeezed the brake levers a little bit. Just down the road, the railroad crosses the highway on an overpass with a 5.2 meter clearance. It is the only overpass we could remember of on the Alaskan Highway. Reflecting back on some of the cargo we have seen go down the road, yep, some of those loads were pretty high. How convenient that must be for those hauling heavy construction equipment. All they have to worry about was losing the load on a curve! For this particular overpass, there were very conspicuous signs pointing out an alternate route.

Before reaching Taylor, the setting was becoming more and more agricultural with pastures and some fields. Later, we could actually smell the petroleum plant in Taylor before we saw it. A local mentioned about how bad the smell was when they drive by with the windows up. Well, we went through Taylor with our windows down.

We crossed the Peace River at 13 miles into our ride. The Peace River Bridge was very impressive. When we arrived at the start of the bridge, we could see that it had a metal grate decking so we decided to walk the bike along the available 4 foot wide walkway. Thankfully, the side railing was about 40 inches high as the see-through decking and the distance to the water below made this stroll across the bridge somewhat unnerving. Also impressive about this setting was the width of the river and the suspension bridge for the gas pipeline to the east. The bridge was built in 1960 after some pillars of the earlier suspension bridge washed out. After the bridge crossing, a four mile climb awaited us. It was portrayed as a steep descent for the northbound motorists in our guidebook, but we found only 1/4 mile at 9% grade and the balance at 4 to 7% grade. There was a passing lane for 3/4 of the ascent which was a mixed bag for cyclists. Motorists have the passing lane to get around you but if there are two vehicles side by side, the cyclists gets crowded out with the shoulder being nonexistent because of the space needed for the second lane. Because of varying shoulder width, stopping to rest was not safe. We stopped after one mile of climbing but did not stop again until 1.8 miles later which included the tough, 1/4 mile segment. We were more than ready for a rest then.

Later we crossed a bridge over the Kiskatinaw River. This deep, river gorge crossing produced strong, cross winds. Because of that, we slowed a bit and stayed in the middle of the lane. After the river, we had a 1.5 mile climb. As we got a mile up the hill, we saw a bear in the right shoulder ditch quite a ways ahead of us. We were not sure of its size as it quickly ran into the woods. When we got to that area, a vehicle heading north pulled over to the shoulder and honked at a black bear cub (about a year old) who was on the left shoulder. The cub ran back toward the woods on that side then reversed and crossed the road behind us. As he darted into the ditch, he apparently catch sight of us and made a sharp turn back onto the shoulder we were riding. He was now following us (playfully?) and did so for about 500 feet before finally heading into the woods. We suspected that the earlier larger bear that was fleeting was the mama bear. We had planned to stop for a break at the top of the hill, but decided to keep pedaling a bit longer.

We stopped at the Farmington store for lunch. This was the local community center and traffic was heavy with vehicles filling up with gas, diesel or propane and kids getting treats to eat. There were lots of community notes posted on the bulletin board. Agriculture has been more prominent with many fields and lots of horses along the side the highway. Lumber operations were also more numerous with a huge lumber mill just north of Dawson Creek.

We arrived in Dawson Creek and headed straight to the Greyhound Bus station, not knowing when it would close (the station closed10 minutes after we arrived). There, we picked up the long awaited package of bike supplies. This included two new bike shorts for Randall (which we could not get before we left Michigan in May) and two 37 mm Continental Top Touring 2000 tires, the brand we prefer. It was like Christmas. We strapped the box to the top of the trailer and headed to Mile Marker “0” of the Alaskan Highway.

Much to our surprise, the historical marker was in the middle of a busy downtown intersection. We couldn’t get our bike near it for a photo, but did get a passing lady to take a picture of us standing next to the marker. A local mentioned that there was also a sign near the visitor center. This man looked our bike over for quite awhile as he also had a tandem. His mother had bought it because her husband was blind and they could ride it together. He recently was given it and he enjoyed riding it with his girlfriend around town. He gave us a donation for Habitat. Going further east a couple of blocks, we found the glorious, “You are now entering the World Famous Alaska Highway” sign. So we pointed our bike in the direction opposite of the arrow because we have been there and done that and got the desired tandem-trailer-cyclists photo for proof. A motorcyclist also wanted his photo taken as he was just beginning the Alaskan Highway. He carried a rubber chicken with him which belonged to his niece. He said that the chicken had been around the world traveling with various relatives and each was obligated to photograph it along the way.

We had now completed the famous Alaskan Highway. Wow, wow, wow. Soaking in the achievement for a few minutes, we then continued our journey by heading back north a mile and then turning east onto the Hart Highway. We stopped at a campground a couple miles outside of Dawson Creek for the night. Once again, we were the only ones tenting. The campground was full of RVs. Most them were retirees just starting the Alaskan Highway and many were quite curious about our trip. We cooked one of our freeze-dried meals for dinner. This meal was one of four that we purchased back in Fairbanks. We had held on to this reserve (only 1.2 pounds total for the 4 packs) for the entire length of the Alaskan Highway in case we got in trouble in the very remote stretches. Randall changed out the tires to the new ones. We kept the best two used tires for back-ups. The Nokia tires purchased back in Fort Nelson had some good rubber and got us to Dawson Creek. However, at 35 mm, they were too narrow as we tended to “float” over the road more frequently, creating unstable situations.

Miles cycled – 50.4

Related Photos Back

 

 

Wayback Machine

AUG AUG SEP
Previous capture 28 Next capture
2007 2008 2009
13 captures
13 Jul 04 – 28 Aug 08
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos The Whitehorse, YT to Watson Lake, YT Stage (via the Alaskan Highway) Back

 

June 7, 2004

We got a later start today as we were updating the photos and working on the website text. After breakfast, we went down Main Street to hop onto a path that follows the Yukon River. We followed this path 2 miles east of Whitehorse to check out the fish ladder. This ladder, purported to be the longest in North America, was built to allow the salmon to get upstream to spawn once the hydroelectric plant was built on the Yukon River. The salmon migration doesn’t start until late July so there were no fish to see. The ladder was quite interesting to see and worth going 2 miles out of our way. While there, we met a guy from Newfoundland with a heavy accent. He described his adventure, kayaking 500 miles down the Yukon River. He thought it was wonderful that we “dropped out” to do what we enjoyed while we still could do it.

As we approach our re-entry to the Alaskan Highway, we noticed that they had placed new bike-lane markings on the highway shoulder. It was nearly noon when we got outside of Whitehorse. Along the way, we met a cyclist racing into town. Ten miles outside of town, we stopped to eat a quick lunch. After lunch, we crossed a bridge which took us over the Yukon River for the last time. The river was not as impressive looking as it was140 miles north of Fairbanks, but none the less, we realized that this was our last view of the river on this trip.

We pedaled hard to make it to Jake’s Corner for dinner. Back on the road after dinner, it was 6 PM and we still had Johnson’s Crossing in our sights for a night’s stay. The problem was that we still had 20 some miles to go and about 8 of those miles involved some climbing. The skies looked like they were going to dump a lot a rain on us. For about 15 minutes, we biked through a light shower. The climbing we did was in a valley setting with mountains up close on both sides. So, even though that part of the ride was slow, we had some fantastic views along the way. Finally, the road leveled out and we were flying as fast as our tired legs would take us. When we got within two miles of Johnson’s Crossing, we discovered that it was an 8 percent grade downhill. Great way to end a ride! When we arrived at 9 PM, the sign outside the door said that the office closed at 8 PM. Barb saw someone stirring around and she blurted out, “Is it too late to get a room tonight?” twice. The attendant waved her in and we were all set with a room to avoid a rainy night. The attendant said they had received buckets of rain just a few hours earlier so we were lucky (sometimes late starts do work out).

Miles cycled – 82.9

June 8, 2004

We started the day with cinnamon rolls and orange juice at the motel cafe. We struck up a conversation with a man from Medina, Ohio (near Cleveland) who was traveling the Alaskan Highway by motorcycle. It took a heart attack at age 46 for him to stop and do the things he really enjoyed, so he was supportive of our trip.

As we pull out of the motel location, we turned left and found ourselves immediately facing the long bridge that is associated with the name Johnson’s crossing. The river and its banks are very impressive as we biked up the bridge at a 4 percent grade. There was a flag woman at each end of the bridge as the opposite end was necked down to a single lane for bridge repair. Once over the bridge, we kept our camera pretty busy taking pictures. After the bridge, we have a decent climb to get up out of the river valley.

The Alaskan Highway now followed Teslin Lake for 20 miles (the lake is 70 miles long). The road along the lake went up and down. Though only a 4 to 5% grade, it got to be quite a routine. Up one half mile. Down one half mile. Up one half mile. Down one half mile – on and on for 20 miles! As the hills went away, we had 4 miles of bone jarring, road construction. It wasn’t gravel but payment with loose stone. What a ride!

We had lunch at Mukluk Annie’s who’s specialty was salmon bake. Not being big fish eaters, we got the huge, tasty burgers. While there, we talked with a couple from Colorado who previously lived in Anchorage and have returned to Alaska many times. They were heading north and had seen many bikers south of us (though none on tandems). They commented that the bikers dressed in black looked like bears from a distance. Those in yellow (like our jackets) were recognizable and they would slow down or give them a wider berth than they would for the “bears.” The cook and waitress (both about 20 years old) were intrigued by our trip. The waitress came outside before we left to give us a donation for Habitat for Humanity which was most generous as she was working her way through college. As we stood near our bike, a couple currently from Idaho who have lived several places chatted with us. They talked about our bike gear and how Habitat for Humanity was not a welfare program. They like the requirement that the recipients of the homes work with the volunteers while their home is being built (so called sweat equity). This leads to a greater sense of pride of ownership. We said that biking the Alaskan Highway was our “sweat equity” and by peddling every mile we felt like we “owned” the Alaskan Highway in a way that someone merely driving it could not. They gave us a donation for Habitat, as well.

When we arrived in the town of Teslin, we got a few groceries at the local store. While leaving, we met a bike touring couple from Vancouver heading north (we regret we didn’t get a photo of them). They had sold their assets and started biking in April. That turned out to be a bit too early as they hit snow and had to wait 3 weeks since they were not equipped to bike in those conditions. They joined the Alaskan Highway in Fort St. John and were headed to Valdez. They were planning to take a ferry back to Vancouver, then relocate in Kingston, Ontario. They told us that the campground we intended to stay in that night was closed and that there were no grocery stores until Watson Lake. Hearing that, we went back to the local grocery store and got 4 boxes of macaroni and cheese for extra insurance.

Just as you’re leaving Teslin, you go over a long bridge which crosses the Nisutlin River. We have crossed long bridges before but this was the first one to have a grated decking. Hmmm? Would our tires going to hold up, going over this grid of quarter inch steel? We made it across without issue as Randall was worried about possible tire damage and Barb was worried about how she could see through the bridge. After the bridge, came a long, difficult climb. Then, a shower arrived, followed by rain.

When we arrived at the Dawson Peaks Resort for dinner, we noticed our front fender was rattling because a screw came out. We had a replacement screw, so we fixed it and went in for a bite to eat. When we set out again, the rain was as persistent as ever. Almost immediately, we noticed that the front derailleur was not responding and we were stuck in third gear. A crucial screw had fallen out (one of the two pivoting screws). As Randall searched for a substitute in his miscellaneous hardware collection, the rain increased. We had no replacement screw on board so we biked the two miles back to Dawson Peaks as there were no services for another 60 miles ahead. As Barb setup for a room that night, the owner, Dave, took Randall to his shop to check for a possible replacement screw. Again, nothing was found. He suggested that a bike shop in Whitehorse (now 120 miles away) could put a replacement screw or derailleur on the Greyhound bus which arrives Teslin around 3:30 PM on its daily trip to Dawson Creek. Randall called one shop but they didn’t deal with the high end Shimano component we needed. The shop owner suggested another store which unfortunately was already closed for the day so we had to wait to address this issue in the morning.

Miles cycled – 41.4

June 9, 2004

Randall got a hold of the bike shop in Whitehorse when they opened at 10:00 a.m. and Dev cheerfully assisted us by delivering a new derailleur (screws not sold separately) to the Greyhound Bus station by 11:00. Now we waited until the bus would arrive in Teslin at 3:30 p.m. Meanwhile, we continued to type our story into the laptop and checked the tightness on all the other screws on the bike (like closing the barn door after the horse got out, eh?). The rain continued throughout the morning and into the early afternoon so it was nice to be inside. Suppose we picked a good day to have equipment problems!

Dave and Carolyn, the owners and operators of the Dawson Peaks Resort were most helpful assisting us in contacting the bike shops and arranging the bus transportation. Dave came to Teslin to be the school principle 30 years ago. Carolyn was an investment banker. They started their business with a restaurant in a 14′ by 32′ canvas tent and two Coleman stoves using water they hauled up from the lake. The resort now has cabins by the lake, motel rooms and an RV campground in addition to the restaurant and gift shop. Dave, Carolyn, their resort and famous rhubarb pie are featured in the novel “Dead North” by Alaskan mystery writer Sue Henry. Dave loaned us his truck to drive the seven miles into Teslin and the Greyhound Bus station. In exchange for borrowing Dave’s pickup, we went to the Teslin dump and unloaded a load of trash. It was quite a novelty for city folk to drop bags into a burning pit amidst the ravens and gulls. The electric fence surrounding the dump helps to keep the bears away. The bus with our package arrived on schedule. The station clerk said “if that doesn’t fix your problem, let me know. I’m going to Whitehorse tomorrow.”

Back at the resort, we completed the repair to the derailleur and changed the rear tire since it showed more wear than expected as some threads were starting to appear. We wondered if the short life was from road construction or from the grated bridge decking. With only 700 miles on the tire, we would need around 8 more tires during the course of this tour just to keep the rear wheel spinning. We called Barb’s sister Susan for replacement tires and other supplies to be sent to Fort Nelson nearly 500 miles away. Then we turned in for the night to be ready for an early departure and productive day ahead.

June 10, 2004

Our start was much chillier than expected. The sky had cleared and the temperature was a cool 40 degrees F. We had a 7 to 10 mph headwind and the initial downhill made it feel even colder. We saw RVs being driven by men wearing short sleeves. Barb queried, “Don’t they know it cold outside?” Randall replied that being in a RV is a lot like being in a living room, very removed from the outside elements. We had dressed in just shorts, tights, shirts and a wool sweater under our jackets as that worked well in the past. After 10 miles, the cycling wasn’t warming us up enough so we stopped to put on wool pants, wool stocking caps and an additional pair of socks. Randall also took time to adjust the front derailleur as it was not going into first gear easily.

After a few miles, we were greeted by a “Welcome to British Columbia” sign, one of seven border crossings between Yukon and BC on the Alaskan Highway. This particular jaunt to the south was 42 miles long before we curved back north to Yukon. We had a 2 mile section of road construction while in BC.

Right after crossing back into Yukon, we stopped for lunch at the Swift River Lodge. The cook asked where we started and where were we headed. He knew that the Arctic Circle was at 66 degree latitude. He guessed that Key West was at about 20 degrees since he knew Jamaica was at 18. We didn’t know, but a later check of our North American map put it at about 25 degrees. Still, we were impressed that here in this remote area, a short order cook knew more about geography than most of the people we worked with in Michigan. The owner of the Lodge gave us a idea of the amount of climbing left before Watson Lake. We knew that gas was high in Canada but we were startled when the owner mentioned that the last customer to come through bought gas, a meal and some souvenirs and was put out $150. Glad we’re pedaling.

The lunch break was over and it was raining. We crossed a river and began a long, long climb. There wasn’t much of a shoulder so we were at the mercy of the drivers to give us a wide berth and most did. Reaching the top of this hill, we rested and took photos as we wanted to remember the challenge of the rain and the hill. With just a little more climbing, we crossed the Continental Divide (one side drains to the east and ends up in the Arctic Ocean, the other side drains to the west and ends up in the Pacific Ocean). We stopped for a snack at the lodge just past the Divide as the rain began to clear. We meet two different couples who spend most of their time in RVs traveling North America. One even gave us their card which listed their occupation as nomads. The operator of the lodge said we sure picked the tough way to see the Yukon. He also said that around here they call bicyclists “meals on wheels for bears.” He wasn’t through having fun yet and he told a couple of motorcyclists who stopped there that at least their bikes had motors. The bikers however said they were impressed with our biking the Alaskan Highway even without knowing the full distance we planned to cover.

At around 5 pm, we cheered for ourselves as we reached 1000 total miles of biking and the halfway point of the Alaskan Highway. Something nice to reflect on now that the rain seemed to be behind us. Looking forward to our second 1,000 milestone!

We stopped at the Rancheria Lodge for the night and got a room since we are trying to cover a greater distance today and tomorrow. The operator was an interesting lady whose grandfather came to the area during the Klondike Gold rush and lost all his money. There were no phones available here. There was satellite TV. However all the TVs were on the same feed so all the rooms and the lounge got the same channel. We asked if the Piston’s game was being broadcast and they set it up for us while we ate in the lounge which had a wood fire for heat and numerous stuffed animals and hides. Basketball is not very popular here in the north, but the operator had heard of Kobe Bryant. Hockey is the game of choice. Barb asked her “What’s the Cup doing in Florida?” She quickly responded “Exactly! But I heard the whole team is from Canada.” (For those who did not understand this, ask a hockey fan.) She kept coming back into the lounge asking if the game was over yet. At the beginning of the 4th quarter, the Pistons were in control and the other guests were complaining so we relinquished the channel selection. We picked up cinnamon rolls and orange juice for breakfast in our room as the “24 hour” restaurant closed between midnight and 7:00 a.m. due to staffing issues.

Miles cycled – 82.4

June 11, 2004

This day started our overcast with gradual rolling hills. With a 7:00 AM start, we were hoping to see some critters, but no such luck. Five miles into the ride, the mountains closed in on us on both sides as we biked through a narrow valley for 15 miles. After crossing the Rancheria River, we stopped at a rest stop. Three fifth-wheelers traveling together pull in from the other direction. When the driver of the first vehicle learned about the extent of our trip, he got back into his vehicle and radioed to the other two in the group (even though they were all parked in a line a few feet apart) to give them the scoop. So we had some curious tourists (not enthusiastic, just curious). Leaving the rest stop, our climbing began.

We climbed one mile up and then descended one mile down. Again, we climbed one mile up and then descended one mile down. This went on and on for 14 miles and with a headwind, no less. Finally we reached the Nugget City Restaurant and Bakery and had a late lunch. Before entering the restaurant, we met Mary, who was from Colorado and was cycling by herself. She started in Washington State and was headed to Anchorage. She had been traveling 100 miles a day as the campgrounds were spaced that far apart. She had seen several bears and had even been chased by a moose, but she thought that with our long bike and trailer, a moose would find us more intimidating. We were quite impressed with the distance she was covering despite her having a favorable tailwind.

The sign in the restaurant read “Please be patient as we are short staffed and the cook is working long hours to keep you fed and happy.” As it was past the noon rush, she was able to chat a bit with us. She said that many people are not prepared for the isolation and remoteness of working on the Alaskan Highway. People who are not comfortable being by themselves don’t do well. She even made access to the internet a condition of her employment, but with the long hours, she probably does not spend much time online. She did, however, eagerly accept one of our cards listing our website address.

After leaving the restaurant, we crossed paths with Conrad, a touring cyclist from Germany. He had biked all over the world and was currently heading from Calgary to Fairbanks. He had posted a sign from his hometown at the Watson Lake Signpost Forest we would see later.

After a long, fast descent, we crossed the Upper Liard River which is quite large. We stopped to photograph the bridge and river. Randall walked onto the grated pedestrian walkway and he could see straight down to the water about 80 feet below. Barb declined to take in the view as she does not like to walk on surfaces she can see through. After the river, Watson Lake welcomed us with a nice 6% grade, 1.7 mile long hill. After this climb, the highway shoulder disappeared and the road was very narrow. Luckily there was little traffic so people could get around us as we crawled up a second, half mile hill. At one point, when cars were in both lanes, the opposing traffic drove with their passenger side wheels on the shoulder and honked at the oncoming car behind us, letting them know they had room to pass our tandem. We appreciate their making us feel at home!

Arriving into town in our favorite mode (downhill) we saw the SIGNS. Incredible! Long strings of posts were filled top to bottom with expensive road signs from nearly every imaginable city and country. Signpost Forest was an appropriate name. Over the years, the town got a reputation for providing a place for you to post your favorite sign from back home. Given the professional quality of the signs, we assumed that some of the signs were stolen from their original location. Thankfully, not many towns have this kind of display as there would be no signs left to tell us which way to go. Once you see the Sign Forrest, you are exasperated.

We checked into a hotel as this would be our last phone (and email) access for 330 miles (Fort Nelson). While Randall worked on the computer, Barb walked to the nearby Laundromat. While washing our bike clothes, she met a couple from north of Flint, Michigan. The woman had traveled the Alaskan Highway in 1976 and the Sign Forrest was just a single row then. They said that the signs now number 51,000!

Miles cycled – 74.4

Related Photos Back

 

 

Wayback Machine

AUG AUG SEP
Previous capture 28 Next capture
2007 2008 2009
17 captures
15 Jun 04 – 28 Aug 08
sparklines
Close
Help
Related Photos The Beaver Creek, YT to Whitehorse, YT Stage (via the Alaskan Highway) Back

 

June 2, 2004

It was cool (low 40’s F) when we started biking. We came upon six short segments of gravel road (more road construction) for a total of 2.3 miles. The ride started out mostly flat, but started getting hilly after a third of the distance. Reaching the White River basin area, we were treated to scenic views. Since we were going 30 mph at the time, Barb shot several photos on the fly (Randall gets to enjoy the scenery more thoroughly through the slide show!).

One possible lunch stop just past the White River was not open for business despite having a very large ad in the Milepost Guidebook. But we had provisions with us, so we stopped along the road and ate our apples, chips, peanuts and cookies. A few miles later we came upon a gas station / convenience store which was mentioned in the Milepost as “closed in 2003, current status unknown” but it was obviously open. The small building had a garden to one side and a sign which read “one old grouch and one cute chick live here.” An older couple ran the business in the summers. They spent the winters in their RV in New Mexico or Arizona. They recently acquired a dog named Buddy who had been abused by his previous owner. The dog had fully recovered emotionally as he was quite friendly and active, sniffing our shoes and trying to get us to play with him. We showed them what was noted in the Milepost about their business status. They said they were indeed open last year, but since they didn’t buy an ad in the guidebook, the editors didn’t acknowledge them. We asked about the status of a bakery, soup and sandwich shop a few miles down the road where we had planned to eat. They were friends with the woman who ran that place and called her to confirm that the restaurant was opened. We later stopped there to enjoy a delicious bowl of soup. It was a convenient stop as we still had a long way to our target campsite.

Before leaving the aforementioned gas station, we noticed a photo of a man with a big black bear he had recently killed. They said that bear was killed near there and that they have seen many bears in the area. Later that day, we noticed a RV parked at the opposite side of the road ahead of us. We looked closely at that area as this could mean an animal sighting. Sure enough, there was a black bear grazing on berries along the shoulder of the road. As we approached, the driver of the vehicle was pointing towards the bear, uncertain if we were aware of his presence. We stayed on our side of the road while we passed (stopping to take photos didn’t seem like a smart thing to do). The bear briefly looked up, but he was more interested in the berries than us. Our first bear sighting and we didn’t need the bear mace spray!

We had a long, long climb of about 3 miles about 7 miles from camp. The view towards the summit was gorgeous and the descent wasn’t too bad either. We just love it when we end a day with 4 miles of downhill! The other nice thing about that kind of arrival is that you most surely have to climb back up the next day and what better time to climb than when it’s cold in the morning.

We arrived at our campsite, Kluane Wilderness Village at 7:30. After setting up our tent and preparing our sleeping bags and air mattresses, we ate the sandwiches we purchased at the bakery/sandwich shop. Still hungry, we ate more at the campground cafe. We showered and washed our bike shorts and shirts at the same time. We put the bike clothes back on to dry and went to bed. They were still a bit damp in the morning but at least they more fresh.

Miles cycled – 83 (11.5 mph average)

June 3, 2004

We started the day with a moderate, sustained climb in cool temperatures and a 15 mph headwind. We reached a gravel section of road which was reconstructed the previous year. It was time to take 10 pounds of pressure out of each of the three tires (to reduce chance of tire or rim damage). We heard that after rebuilding the roads in gravel, the construction crews wait 10 months to let everything settle before paving that section. The 4.6 miles of gravel was dustier than the Dalton Highway and the drivers were not as aware of the risks of flying rocks as few would slow down or give us a wide berth (unlike the mostly professional truck drivers that use the Dalton Highway who gave us very wide berths and half speed drive-bys). With each vehicle that met or passed us, we lowered our heads to reduce the chances that a flying rock would hit our face.

We had our second large critter sighting today!! A moose (no antlers so probably a female) was to the right side of road and as we approached, it darted across the road several hundred feet in front of us. It stopped briefly a couple of times to look back at us as it appeared to be frightened by our presence (doesn’t see many tandems?).

Burwash Landing Resort was a nice lunch stop for us. As we dined, we enjoyed the gorgeous views of Kluane Lake. There, we met a mother and her son that were traveling in their SUV. The mom was a longtime Fairbanks resident so we had a few stories to exchange. Destruction Bay was our next stop where we picked up a few groceries. Food was not going to be available until we reached Haines Junction, still another day away.

Right after the Destruction Bay stop was yet more construction. We came to a halt next to the flag lady to get the scoop on what was ahead. After she told us we were crazy to be riding from Alaska to Florida, she indicated that we had a couple of kilometers of roadwork. It turned out to be 6.9 miles! She also said that after this section, we would not have any more construction on the Alaskan Highway (stay turned to see if this was true). The first stage of this construction adventure saw 3 miles of very wet gravel surfaces. We were able to bike on the far right, soft shoulder to miss most of the mud. We went about 4 to 4.5 mph steadily. Every 7 to 10 minutes, a pilot pickup would lead a single string of 3 to 8 vehicles through the construction. This traffic was not threatening to us but we think the motorists were startled to see a bike advancing through all this. After 2 miles we found a dry spot near a driveway to stand and rest a bit. A construction supervisor walked over to talk to us. The supervisor thought that it was great that we were taking this trip and stated that he sees a number of cyclists on this highway each year. He also said that the chip paving ahead would be far enough along that we shouldn’t have any trouble biking on it. At the next stage, a second flag lady was concerned that it was not safe for us during the chip paving stage. She radioed and we waited. She radioed and we waited. We told her we were going ahead and she stated “you’re doing this at your own risk.” The tricky part of this segment was the excess of chips to navigate, trying to advance without the tires being grabbed too much. There was very little exposed oil fortunately there was so no issue there. When we arrived where the heavy equipment was working, the workers all smiled, gave us big waves and wished us well on our trip, as we were careful to stay out of their way.

At the end of the active construction area, the gravel road smoothed out rather nice and since we were going down a long hill, the conditions were such that we coasted down the hill at 25 mph and right by the third flag woman and a line of 9 vehicles waiting to go the other direction. There’s no stopping us now! A mile down, we found a safe place to stop and pulled over so we could put 10 pounds of pressure back into the tires. We were keeping a watchful eye out for bears as we were still along Kluane Lake and it is known as a popular place for bears to feed. We closed the day with a stop at Cottonwood RV Campground (stopping 10 miles earlier than planned as the construction and head wind were a bit much).

Cottonwood offered a very scenic campsite. We were right on the lake with snow covered mountains to the south and east. The operator stated that were no bear sightings yet in that area and we felt a little better about settling in with several RVs. Randall cooked macaroni and cheese and chicken noodle soup while Barb set up the sleeping bags and air mattresses. The lake water was glassy calm as we went to bed. By 1 AM, gentle waves could be heard.

Miles cycled – 50

June 4, 2004

It was not as cold in the morning as we expected. The wind was calm as we advanced down the curving road that goes around the end of the lake. We stopped at the Sheep Mountain Visitor Center where we saw Dall Sheep through the telescope. The visible side of the mountain was their winter home and they were moving to the lusher, backside for the summer. Consequently, the sheep we saw were right at the peak of the mountain. Also, at this stop we met two couples from British Columbia who donated to Habitat and gave us oranges and apples (better than the ones we’d seen in the stores). One said “Good luck” and started to his vehicle and then stopped, turned and said “for this kind of trip, good luck isn’t enough – God bless.” It seems that we have advanced far enough into our tour that locals and tourists are expressing more amazement and enthusiasm where in the past, we were just a curiosity.

A couple on an ATV came up from behind us, driving in the ATV/snowmobile path along the highway. They stopped to collect something (firewood perhaps) and we passed them. Later they caught up to us again. They would smile but didn’t say anything to us. Eventually, they turned in to a rest stop where another vehicle was parked and we didn’t see them after that.

The weather continued to be calm. Later, the wind picked up at the first of two mountain passes, both at about 3,300 feet elevation. Between the two mountain passes, we lunched on apples, peanuts and cookies on the side of the highway, waving at passing vehicles. Barb usually waves at all the RVs going north as we are biking. Every since we got our first tandem in 1998, Barb has been waving from the tandem to bystanders and oncoming traffic (waving is easier for the rider not doing the steering). Tandeming is a lot of fun for the two of us and we want people to know that we are indeed having fun. Most of the time they wave back (once we even got three hands waving from two people – which is the most you would want as the fourth hand needs to be on the steering wheel). Sometimes they even honk. Randall will wave if they honk; otherwise, he focuses on keeping the bike upright. Sometimes they just stare at us like the couple in the painting, American Gothic, in disbelief of what they are seeing.

We conquered the second mountain pass after two more rest stops. The road looked like it was going right into the mountain. It seemed like we were almost at the top, but no, still more climbing lay ahead. Finally, the last summit of the day was reached. Hurray! There was some snow on the ground not far from us and the nearby mountains were covered with snow. Nice feeling to be on the top. The road then wound downhill for 6 miles after the second pass (what better way to end the day). Since there were few vehicles going our way, we could take the whole lane and we coasted consistently at 28 to 33 mph. This took us into Haines Junction. We opted for a hotel and phone assess so we could catch up on email. We had 72 new emails with over half of that being spam. We really enjoy hearing from everyone. We worked a bit on updating photos and text but uploading to website will come at a later stop.

Miles cycled – 50 miles

June 5, 2004

To start the morning, we ate in the continental breakfast room at the hotel. With all the German speaking tourists there, we felt like WE were the foreigners (which of course we were for the next few weeks). There was a direct flight from Frankfort to Whitehorse on Thursdays so many Germans vacation in this area. Some rent RVs and others join up with tour groups.

We had a later start at 9:15 as we took extra time to check out the general store. Like other general stores we’ve seen in Canadian small towns, this store had a little bit of everything: groceries, hardware, drug store items. They had some dehydrated meals on hand but we were still good with our two day supply on board.

Heading north out of Haines Junction (seems like the wrong direction doesn’t it) we hit a busy construction zone just outside of town. The flag woman steered us to what she called the “bike path” along the side of the road. Couldn’t fool us, our alternate path was the rough ATV trail (also used by snowmobiles in the winter). For two miles, we biked along this bumpy route at 4 to 5 mph. One hump in the road had such a pointed peak, our long bike would have bottomed out on the timing chain. So we got off and lifted the bike across. A short 40 foot hill was so steep, out rear tire was spinning on the gravel, so we got off the bike and walked it up. What an adventure!

After the 2 mile detour, we tried to rejoin the highway. The flag woman there was concerned about the large trucks going through. However, we talked her into allowing us to ride on the highway since we were now beyond the pilot car section where only one lane of traffic was allowed to travel at a time.

The road was generally flat to begin with and we even had a light tailwind. We stopped for lunch on the side of the existing highway next to construction on a new, improved highway section. We watched the big earthmoving equipment build up and level off the new highway surface. The new road will have a more consistent grade (reducing peaks and valleys) than the existing highway. Future cyclists biking on the Alaskan Highway will have it a bit easier going than we did on this stretch. Looking back towards Haines Junction, it appeared to be snowing in the mountains near Haines Junction. It looked like rain ahead of us so we zipped on our jacket sleeves and put on our rain booties before resuming cycling. We did get a gentle rain for about 10 miles but it was warm enough not to chill us.

We rode through an area which had been repopulated with elk, but did not see any about. Also, there was suppose to be bison in the area. Again, none were visible. We rode through several miles of the Takhini River Valley which burned in 1958 (the first year the Alaskan Highway was opened to civilians). More than 1.5 million acres of forest land burned that year due to campfires. Burnt trees were still visible, but many healthy, younger evergreens were filling in the area.

The plan for the day was to bike to a bed & breakfast 75 miles from Haines Junction and then continue to Whitehorse the next day. That fell through when upon arrival, we found that the place was closed while the operator was vacationing in Germany (we didn’t call ahead since it was listed as being open year round). We could have set up camp most anywhere but chose to bike the additional 23 miles into Whitehorse. We had 6.5 miles of gravel roads to navigate (road construction again). While the last 23 miles were pretty hilly, we were surprised that we averaged 12 mph with the adverse conditions and the length of ride. One big positive for today’s ride was that we had no strong headwind for the first time in a week! We arrived in Whitehorse at 8 pm. We turn onto a street called Two Mile Hill to coast into town. As we approached 25 mph a half block onto this street, there was a sign that stated “No Bikes Allowed on Street.” There was no stopping us now! After settling into the hotel and showering, we walked 8 blocks to a KFC for dinner. We did not have tired legs but decided that Sunday would be an off day so that the web site can be updated.

Miles cycled – 97.6

June 6, 2004

We enjoyed a Sunday without touring (although, we did bike to a nearby A & W Restaurant, Wal-Mart and car wash). We walked to church at the Sacred Heart Cathedral, just one block from our hotel. After the service, we talked to the young priest and told him of our trip in progress. He thought what we were doing sounded like quite an adventure, but difficult. When we told him we were riding a tandem, he joked “That’s worse. That requires teamwork; teamwork sucks.” He said he would check out our website and send us encouraging email.

We ate breakfast and shopped for camping supplies before returning to the hotel. Barb did laundry while Randall edited and downloaded photos. Then we rode to a self serve car wash to give the bike a thorough cleaning to remove the construction dirt. In the evening, we watched the Pistons beat the Lakers and called Barb’s parents with the latest updates.

Miles cycled – 4.0

Related Photos Back