Florida, it's like Utah... right?

Back in February, The Pie and I were tiring of the shite weather.  

"We should go to Florida."

"Okay."

I didn't wanna go the right after Winter Shart Tarck was over because I was tired of committed weekends, and with The Single Speed aSSault on True Grit Epic coming up the weekend of the 21st bringing up more same feels...

So of course we go at the same time temps finally warm up in Charlotte and also things happening in terms of war and the Strait of Hormuz and also gas and crowded trails at Santos because of the Fat Tire Festival.

I wanted to ride a bike every day.  The Pie wanted to go to Silver Springs and get on a water-going vessel and see wild things and also do her hammock-to-hot tube-to-hammock-repeat thing she likes to do... and also walk everywhere and stare at Boppit being Boppit.

First things first.

Turtles, birds, alligators, Tik Tok'ing teenage girls... and just as we were leaving, we had an incredible manatee encounter that was insane and also disturbing.  Something about having a 1,000lb sentient beanbag with a grapefruit size brain floating directly under your kayak is slightly disconcerting.

This is either the street we were staying on or an alley where teenagers drink White Claw or both. 

First coupla rides I did were lowkey noodle bar adventures with some trail added in to make it spicy. 
 

Never not gonna stop and admire a sweet wiener drawing.

I was tryna figure out if there was a logical and also safe way to commute over to the trails at Santos on a single speed mountain bike.  Safety first and all.

Danger abounds in Florida.

I decided I didn't wanna ride on narrow 35-45 mile roads on a 30X19 32" single speed that far, so The Pie dropped me off in a happy place on Saturday morning.

 

This ended up being one of two rides that I underestimated just how difficult they would be.  I was gonna follow the 50 mile Epic Route, but skip out with close to 35 miles (and tossing in some Vortex, because when in Santos...).  I didn't take into account the trail traffic, the head phones, the e-bikes, the guy on a BMX bike in jeans, the Bluetooth speakers, the water that I thought would be on the way back but wasn't, the heat... so I was toasted enough that eating a big fat post-ride burger came with zero guilt.  I visited with Shimano Man Troy (who gave me something that if I lose it, I will cry), let some people rip around on my bike...

"Wow, it just feels like a bike."

I also took a few pedals on a Shimano CUES equipped self-powered, automatic shifting bike, and that was insane (that mighta happened the day before tho).

Then back across the street from the Festing and a beer at the bike shop with more conversations about 32" wheels with strangers.

De-toasted myself when I got back home and out walking with The Pie for brewery beers.

Had front row seats to this gentleman's magnificent eight point maneuver into this parallel parking spot (well, almost) that had my head hurting so much I couldn't even figure out how to do it so wrong.

My parking job in one maneuver:

Despite overdoing all the things on Saturday, I'd already planned a 60+ mile gravel route from the house of many unknowns, and once again, overshot the mark on Sunday.

This is Florida gravel?

No, somehow this is Florida gravel?

I'd used part of someone else's Ride with GPS route to curate mine own route. There were gravel portions mismarked as paved and also some trail thrown in there, so a ride I thought I'd knock out in three something hours ended up being more than four.  Oof.  It was buenos despite the feeling of pedaling in place in soft sand and making zero forward progress. 

We ended out trip with fire, and beer, and music, and conversations, and stars.

It was a most excellent trip with The Pie.  I missed my big buddy Watts whom I'd just been down here with almost exactly a year ago.  He woulda made me ride further tho, so I missed him mebbe 90%.

Now, I gotta pack that big 32" wheel bike into a travel case it was never intended to fit into and head to Utah next week.