Gulf (state park) → Pensacola → Fort Pickens → Topsail Hill → St Andrews (state park) → Indian Pass
I just ate the best bagel i have had in years. Actually i scoffed two, because the first one was so good i didn't save the other for dinner as planned.
Welcome to Florida.
Yesterday morning i lazily packed up my tent and started cycling to Pensacola. In the length of time it took me to post on LiveJournal the night before, the state park i wanted to stay at got booked, so i had no choice but to get a motel. I decided to lounge around as long as possible before heading out so i could visit the Flora-Bama. I also took a very scenic and slow bike ride out of the state park, idling my way through pine trees and bayous along a lovely cycle path.
The Flora-Bama bar is an infamous bar that opened on the Florida side of the border when Alabama was dry. It's been around for over 50 years and features in various songs, mostly country music i suppose. I've never heard the songs before, but i knew the name of the bar. I am a big fan of both bars and border communities, so i had to stop in.
The bar is now a tourist destination in itself, with an attached yacht club, gift shop and several restaurants, but the original bar is still there - rebuilt pretty much from scratch after hurricanes wiped it out. Everything is wood, and it goes up multiple stories, with cool little nooks and crannies all around the place. It feels a bit like my favorite club in Berlin - Kater Blau, or Katerholzig before it, and presumably the infamous Bar 25 before that. But all of those new generation Berlin bars probably took an inspiration from classic beachfront dives like this. Just like at Berlin clubs, the bartenders and security don't wear uniforms, they just look like other people in the bar. It makes for a more relaxed vibe, where it feels like everyone is on the same level.
But there was one huge difference. It was the opposite of a counterculture hangout. All the graffiti that people had left on the deck or the walls of the bathroom stalls weren't some bizarre poetry or philosophical musings or radical political slogans like in normal clubs, they were all "so and so waz here", or a cock and balls. Real imaginative stuff. The formal decorations included an American flag, flags of all the branches of the US military, and some specific units that are stationed in nearby Pensacola. That does feel a bit hokey, but i can accept it. Active military are pretty good drinkers, and they don't make a habit of raiding nightclubs or jailing partygoers. The cops, on the other hand...
You see, there was also that black and white and blue version of the American flag, which is a pro-police symbol that has been adopted by white nationalists and is often brandished in opposition to Black Lives Matter. Needless to say there were no people of color in the whole place.
It was such a strange sensation to be in a bar which looked so much like a counterculture venue on the surface, but then had all these nods to the establishment when you looked a little closer. I know all bars need to keep a relationship with local law enforcement behind the scenes, but there's a way to do it that doesn't make you look like fucking stooges. I wonder if it was always like that, or if it's a recent development, since being outwardly pro-police is now some kind of weird identity thing associated with country music and being white. You'd think a roadside saloon set up to thumb the nose at regressive liquor laws would be trying to cultivate a rebellious outlaw image, but i guess not.
I kinda wanted to get drunk and stay there all night being an out and proud trannie raver, if only to challenge the expectations of the crowd, but i had places to be, so i just ate a vege burger and had a couple drinks before heading back on the road.
The rest of the ride into Pensacola was fine. It was pretty windy and still overcast (no the skies are not blue in sweet home Alabama), so a fairly chilly and tough ride despite the short distance. I passed the Navy base, and a whole bunch of military homes, and other suburban neighborhoods with curly wurly roads that made everything take twice as long as it should.
My motel was an airport motel, just out past the city limits. As i passed the airport, i spied a taco shack, so went in for tacos. They also had tamales on special, so i got one of those too. For some reason, they didn't quite hit the spot. All the ingredients were there, but the spicing was off for me. Too salty, perhaps? I wonder if all this crappy BBQ has ruined my taste buds. Either way, it was fine but not great, then i picked up some beer and nested into my motel bed.
This morning i went for breakfast and all they had was biscuits, gravy, sausage, cheese grits, waffles and cereal. For fuck's sake. Not even a slice of bread. No pastries. No bagels. No fruit. I didn't feel like a massive meat and dairy fest first thing in the morning, so i got some porridge and coffee and skulked back to my room.
Tonight i am staying in the national park just across the bridge from Pensacola city, so there is no rush. I cycled along the scenic coastal highway from my motel back into the city, and it was very pleasant. Soft hills, going up and down. Treelined route. Every now and then a glimpse of the ocean. It reminded me of Hong Kong.
The nice thing about being in a town that is both military and has retirees is that you get food from all over the country. That's how i ended up at the bagel shop. Sadly they didn't have vegan cream cheese, but they had hummus and peanut butter, so i got two bagels. Since i inhaled them both, i am now taking a break to write a bit so i can get my actual lunch over the bridge before setting up my tent and spending the evening on the beach.
One thing i've noticed since getting to Florida is people are extremely chatty. I don't know if it's because they're all on meth or if it's just a local thing, but i ended up on all kinds of winding conversations with people you wouldn't normally expect to chat with. Talking traffic accidents with the coat check lady at Flora-Bama. Talking the British Commonwealth with a gas station clerk who was selling me beer. Talking Diwali with the motel front desk. I kind of like it. Just a Florida observation.
-o-
Apparently the Navy stunt pilots were doing a show today. Just as i was crossing the bridge from Pensacola to Gulf Breeze i started hearing jets flying overhead, then they started dumping smoke and flying straight up in the air and flipping down in sync, creating symmetrical patterns in the sky. A bit later on when i passed through Pensacola Beach, they did some crazy low passes - lower than the highrise buildings on the beachfront - in very tight formation. I'm not really a fan of air shows because they seem like a waste of fuel, but you can't deny it is impressive to see. They really are fantastic pilots. And they made me feel like i got the full Pensacola: Wings of Gold experience.
Gulf Breeze was a funny stop. I went to Walmart to buy some tortillas and deodorant and three fucking cop cars were all pulled up with lights flashing surrounding this dude in the parking lot. Was he a wanted criminal? Did he have a gun? No. He was just a guy on holiday who had been busking. The cops were acting like fucking ICE because he was a foreigner. "Why are you here? How long are you staying in America? Where are you staying?" It made me fucking sick to see it, because there was nothing i could do to help the guy. This is exactly the reason why no music or entertainment venues should be pro-police. The police have a long history of harassing and intimidating street musicians, graffiti artists, immigrants, activists, people of color, gay people, travelers, teenagers, drug users... Where would the entertainment industry be without those people? You know you've stepped over the line when even old white ladies shopping in a red state Walmart are shaking their head and muttering about the cops going too far. Dude was just playing music, for fuck's sake.
Anyway, i minded my business and let the cops be shitheads. I found a Laotian restaurant that looked awesome, but it wasn't open, so i went to a Mexican place instead. Gulf Breeze, being some kind of ritzy exclusive island community, had a fancy Mexican place with cloth napkins and whatnot. They also had potato tacos! Who knew Florida would be where i would finally be able to eat vegan again. I got the potato tacos with grilled bell pepper, onion, refried beans and guacamole. In-house habanero hot sauce. It was very good. God i missed being able to eat vegan food that isn't just some iceberg lettuce and a limp tomato slice.
After lunch i cycled through the crowds tailgating all over Pensacola Beach to watch the airshow and went all the way up the island to Gulf Islands National Seashore. Leading into it was just several kilometers of empty road, white sand dunes on both sides, some beach grass, that was it. Because you need a pass to get in and there is no parking along the road, the views and beaches are pristine. I checked into my campsite, which was on a tents-only loop, and saw more tents than i have since leaving BC. Seems like Florida is much more serious about good, old-fashioned camping, in the national parks at least. There were a couple hours to sunset, so i rode up to Fort Pickens on the point and looked at some old military installations and walked along the almost completely empty beach. It was stunning.
Now i am bundled up back in my sleeping bag while all the families in tents around me fuss with their kids cooking hotdogs and marshmallows over their fires. I still haven't lit a single fire on this trip. I like adjusting my schedule to the sun. When the sun goes down, i get in my tent. When it comes up, i also rise. It's a much simpler way to live. But it's still nice to hear kids having fun and having a proper outdoor experience. I'm glad that sort of adventure isn't getting lost in the next generation. Those kids need to know the value of getting in touch with nature, because they'll be inheriting it when we're all gone.
Tomorrow i have another state park. I don't have any bars of 4G here so i can't book another one, but i think there's a whole string of state parks in the Florida panhandle, which should make camping a lot easier. Other hand, there are also bears (and snakes, and alligators, and cougars, and...) so i might need to be a little more careful again.
-o-
Oh, the perfect breakfast. Two brown English muffins with vegan sausage and fruit on the side. Just like a breakfast at my mom's. Oh, how i missed just getting fresh, healthy, vege food on the road.
Florida rocks.
I headed out of the national park yesterday, and continued along one barrier island after the next. The best parts were the stretches of natural preserve - no parking on the side of the road, no commercial traffic, no RVs, just a few anglers and beach bums zooming past. White sand dunes on both sides of the road, turquoise water just beyond that. Stunning. Perfect.
But there was some bullshit too, most notably the residential/holiday homes areas along long stretches of the road. I thought the Mississippi gulf coast did it wrong by putting a dual carriageway along the beach, but now i changed my mind. It is much, much worse to put houses and resorts along the beach, so you can't see it from the road, and there is no public access any more. Not only that, but these residential strips went on for miles and miles without a single shop.
Perhaps this is my eurotrash showing, but what kind of beachside holiday is it when you can't nip downstairs for a fresh brioche or a croissant? And don't tell me these folks cook everything themselves because i know they don't. I've read the reviews of nearby restaurants. These holidaymakers stay in a beach house or an RV resort and then drive 10, sometimes 20km every morning to go get breakfast and leave some snarky review. So the roads are relatively busy, they're not really safe for children to play, and the very few cafés that are open are all next door to one another in the tiny commercial district and have lines out the door because everyone has come for miles around to eat there. It's absurd. I am pretty sure when i was staying on the Lido in Venice i could walk to an espresso stand, and a bakery, and a couple of other little local places. It makes for a far less stressful holiday when you don't need to drive to get anywhere. American car culture truly fucking sucks.
But it got worse. There is this strip called Navarre Beach where i think i met the biggest assholes in America. The town slogan is like... Most peaceful beach in Florida or something. But i was constantly beeped by jackasses who apparently were too impatient to wait all of 3 seconds for a space so they could pass my bike. In particular on the bridge to the island, the pedestrian section is about as wide as a single (thin) person, with tall barriers on both sides. What do you want me to do, cycle there and block the entire bridge for pedestrian traffic? Then the stretch along Santa Rosa Sound - past the area round Eglin Air Force Base - was even worse again, with people beeping me to get out of the road even with a painted cycle path on the road. And not a single café or bakery was open because... Sunday, i guess? I mean, there were some gas stations and big box stores and fast food chains. Fuck me. It was the worst.
Then i got into Fort Walton Beach and it was instantly better. Lots of hipster kids getting brunch at fancy pants breakfast places. Loads of diversity in the lunch spots. Uniformed military heading out to eat. I saw a Jamaican place that unfortunately was not open yet ("we runnin' a bit behind") so i went to a Hawaiian joint for an early lunch. I got kalua pig on greens and rice, and a spam musubi. It was all very subtlely flavored, a bit like Japanese food, but the flavors were elegantly balanced so i really enjoyed it. See, ya don't always need a ton of chilis to please me, as long as you cooked it well in the first place.
After lunch i continued along the beachfront to the long resort strip of Miramar Beach. Where i found a beach shack on stilts and decided to stop to get some more silly fruity cocktails. I mean, what even is the point of coming to a white sand beach if you aren't going to sit under a palm tree and get tipsy on something with pineapples and coconut in it?
Somewhere along the way i met a beach bum who chatted a bit about climate change ("people got all kind of theories, but it's just the ocean man, can't stop the ocean, the water does what it wants") and private property ("how can you make a private beach man, the beach belongs to noone, it's the water's") and Canada ("Rush was my favorite band growing up man"). He was a dude. He said my campsite at Topsail Hill was a good pick, but Grayson Beach would've been even better ("lotsa hippies down there"). That's how i ended up at Grayson Beach for breakfast today.
It wasn't without its troubles. I woke up and went to the in-park coffee shop (Florida knows how to do it, man, putting a fucking coffee shop inside a state park), and then ended up chatting to another beach bum local who had lots of tips about where i should go on my bike tour to maximize the free/cheap camping and minimize the highway rides. Essentially his tips were to follow the established cycle trails around the state, which i have avoided up until this point because cycling the trails i feel like i'm missing out a bit on the local culture and just ghettoizing myself in the trail cycling/thru hiking community. Drivers need to know that cyclists are allowed to use the roads too, we need to be visible. But... Getting on a trail now and then sure is nice.
I discovered that again this morning when the bridge to Grayson Beach was closed and they wanted me to do a massive detour up to the highway and back. That's when i stumbled upon the trailhead for the Longleaf Greenway, which is a short hiking trail/single-track mountain bike trail through the pine woods, sand dunes and marshes along the coast. Holy shit, what an awesome ride. There were a few sections of deep watery bog, but thankfully i saw a mountain biker zoom ahead of me and he said it was alright, so i plucked up the courage and got my feet a bit wet but made it through. The foliage was almost totally crossing the trail in parts, so it really felt like you were in the jungle, bushwhacking your way through. So fucking cool. I loved it.
And here i am on Grayson Beach. Healthy vegan breakfast. And i plan to get a cocktail and maybe a snack at the bar that the guy yesterday recommended before cycling on to my next campsite near Panama City Beach. It's only a short ride so i don't need to book it along the highway or worry about taking single-track detours through the bush. This is the life, man. I'm finally properly on holiday.
-o-
After writing that last instalment, i had a drink at the bar and a short walk on the beach, then got back on the road and promptly got an epic flat tire. I saw the broken glass on the road and knew it would suck, but i cross broken glass every day and usually it's okay. Not today. It took me almost an hour to change the tube because this rim is so tight. And of course i put it on back-to-front. Cycled to a nearby bike shop to get a new tube, and then decided to buy a new tire at the same time. The old one was almost bald already. Riding fully-loaded really destroys the back tire. They only seem to last about a month, which i suppose is around 2500km so perhaps not that bad.
Because daylight saving happened, and because i am right on the very edge of the central timezone, the sun now sets around 4:30pm. I had less than 2 hours to make it the 40km or so to my campsite before twilight. So i fucking booked it.
To be honest, i didn't miss much - aside from lunch. Panama City Beach and the communities next to it are all real trashy spring break lookin' kinda beachfront resorts. Highrises, private beaches, golf cart rentals, thrill rides, drinks specials, scantily-clad bartenders etc. I feel like i am too old for that sort of stuff, and i didn't much enjoy it even when i was a twentysomething. I blasted past all of it and popped out at St Andrews state park, which is an oasis of peacefulness right on the end of a peninsula. I made it just in time to set up my tent at sunset, right on the waterfront. I felt like the place should've been a million bucks but it was "only" $28. Electric and water hookup too. Real luxury.
I slept well, barring an unfortunate accident where i was so excited to be able to watch some shows in my tent that i spilled a bottle of sweet tea and left everything wet and sticky overnight. I think i managed to wash and dry most of it off this morning, but it wasn't my best move.
Right now i'm in a parking lot in suburban Panama City where i found a panadería and got some pan dulces. It's not even 10am, so i have a couple hours to cruise down the coast, get lunch at a small town along the way, then hopefully set up camp at the Indian Pass campground.
-o-
Riding through Tyndall Air Force Base was interesting. Heading up there, through downtown Panama City and the suburbs, it was an odd environment. Lots of abandoned storefronts. But nice, friendly-looking houses. Nothing ostentatious like most of the other coastal places i've been. Just outside the base they had all the necessities to support a military crowd - gas station, BBQ shack, donut shop, black hair products, Korean grocery store.
The first thing i saw after crossing the bridge to the base was a military school, and it reminded me of my childhood, going to a British Forces school in West Germany with all the other army kids. There is a sort of camaraderie because you're all military, but also the friendships can be fleeting because your parents will get different postings so who knows how long you'll stick around.
Then it was something like 30km of wasteland. I would've loved to have taken a photo, but i'm wary of being tagged as a spy so i just kept going. The signs indicated that most of the land was used for dropping ordnance. I didn't get to see any explosions.
The first town on the other side of the base is Mexico Beach, which was completely destroyed by a hurricane a few years back. It's a bizarre place, a bit like a richer (but not much richer) version of Cameron, Louisiana. Almost the whole town is under construction, unfinished beach house after unfinished beach house. I guess people are moving back there despite the threat of another hit. There wasn't much for stores in town, but there was a taco truck that catered to the throngs of Spanish-speaking construction workers. For a change, i got a torta, when i saw that they literally just got the bread delivery while i was standing in line. It was excellent.
Then i headed on down to my campsite in the middle of nowhere Indian Pass. I stopped at Port St Joe, because i had heard it was a quaint "old Florida" town, but it's just a tacky tourist town with the usual mediocre pizza place, "authentic" (read: not) Mexican place, antique shop and a couple of chain stores. After that i headed deep into the so-called Forgotten Coast.
It's not really forgotten. It's just less developed than the "remembered coast". Instead of beachfront vacation homes crammed in like sardines, it's large sheds where people park their RVs and expansive mansions with lots of palm trees and pine trees between them. Quite pleasant and picturesque to cycle through, but the whole waterfront is "private", so it doesn't really feel like a place for ordinary people, only the wealthy.
Indian Pass is much the same, except for the quirky little campground on the point. It's all whimsical corners and RVs parked up under palm trees. It had a very unique and relaxed feeling. No cell reception. No wifi. And although my site theoretically had electricity, the 110V standard outlet didn't work. It was very beachy and chill, though at $40 you'd hope so. I did laundry and had a hot shower. Woke up the next morning under palm trees. Not bad.
After an hour or two of cycling i popped out at a small town called Apalachicola, which is actually the quaint fishing village i hoped Port St Joe would be. I am currently at a coffee shop that serves a whole menu of Venezuelan goodies, right opposite the shrimping warehouses on the waterfront. I wish i could stay and sample all their stuff, but i already booked a campsite in advance, another 65km up in the direction of Tallahassee. I don't like booking campsites in advance, but this is the unfortunate reality of trying to find places to stay in Florida, even along the "forgotten" coast.
I guess i better get back on the road. Since i just crossed into the Eastern timezone, i figure this is as good a time as any to post this. Who knows if my campsite tonight will have signal?
Welcome to Florida.
Yesterday morning i lazily packed up my tent and started cycling to Pensacola. In the length of time it took me to post on LiveJournal the night before, the state park i wanted to stay at got booked, so i had no choice but to get a motel. I decided to lounge around as long as possible before heading out so i could visit the Flora-Bama. I also took a very scenic and slow bike ride out of the state park, idling my way through pine trees and bayous along a lovely cycle path.
The Flora-Bama bar is an infamous bar that opened on the Florida side of the border when Alabama was dry. It's been around for over 50 years and features in various songs, mostly country music i suppose. I've never heard the songs before, but i knew the name of the bar. I am a big fan of both bars and border communities, so i had to stop in.
The bar is now a tourist destination in itself, with an attached yacht club, gift shop and several restaurants, but the original bar is still there - rebuilt pretty much from scratch after hurricanes wiped it out. Everything is wood, and it goes up multiple stories, with cool little nooks and crannies all around the place. It feels a bit like my favorite club in Berlin - Kater Blau, or Katerholzig before it, and presumably the infamous Bar 25 before that. But all of those new generation Berlin bars probably took an inspiration from classic beachfront dives like this. Just like at Berlin clubs, the bartenders and security don't wear uniforms, they just look like other people in the bar. It makes for a more relaxed vibe, where it feels like everyone is on the same level.
But there was one huge difference. It was the opposite of a counterculture hangout. All the graffiti that people had left on the deck or the walls of the bathroom stalls weren't some bizarre poetry or philosophical musings or radical political slogans like in normal clubs, they were all "so and so waz here", or a cock and balls. Real imaginative stuff. The formal decorations included an American flag, flags of all the branches of the US military, and some specific units that are stationed in nearby Pensacola. That does feel a bit hokey, but i can accept it. Active military are pretty good drinkers, and they don't make a habit of raiding nightclubs or jailing partygoers. The cops, on the other hand...
You see, there was also that black and white and blue version of the American flag, which is a pro-police symbol that has been adopted by white nationalists and is often brandished in opposition to Black Lives Matter. Needless to say there were no people of color in the whole place.
It was such a strange sensation to be in a bar which looked so much like a counterculture venue on the surface, but then had all these nods to the establishment when you looked a little closer. I know all bars need to keep a relationship with local law enforcement behind the scenes, but there's a way to do it that doesn't make you look like fucking stooges. I wonder if it was always like that, or if it's a recent development, since being outwardly pro-police is now some kind of weird identity thing associated with country music and being white. You'd think a roadside saloon set up to thumb the nose at regressive liquor laws would be trying to cultivate a rebellious outlaw image, but i guess not.
I kinda wanted to get drunk and stay there all night being an out and proud trannie raver, if only to challenge the expectations of the crowd, but i had places to be, so i just ate a vege burger and had a couple drinks before heading back on the road.
The rest of the ride into Pensacola was fine. It was pretty windy and still overcast (no the skies are not blue in sweet home Alabama), so a fairly chilly and tough ride despite the short distance. I passed the Navy base, and a whole bunch of military homes, and other suburban neighborhoods with curly wurly roads that made everything take twice as long as it should.
My motel was an airport motel, just out past the city limits. As i passed the airport, i spied a taco shack, so went in for tacos. They also had tamales on special, so i got one of those too. For some reason, they didn't quite hit the spot. All the ingredients were there, but the spicing was off for me. Too salty, perhaps? I wonder if all this crappy BBQ has ruined my taste buds. Either way, it was fine but not great, then i picked up some beer and nested into my motel bed.
This morning i went for breakfast and all they had was biscuits, gravy, sausage, cheese grits, waffles and cereal. For fuck's sake. Not even a slice of bread. No pastries. No bagels. No fruit. I didn't feel like a massive meat and dairy fest first thing in the morning, so i got some porridge and coffee and skulked back to my room.
Tonight i am staying in the national park just across the bridge from Pensacola city, so there is no rush. I cycled along the scenic coastal highway from my motel back into the city, and it was very pleasant. Soft hills, going up and down. Treelined route. Every now and then a glimpse of the ocean. It reminded me of Hong Kong.
The nice thing about being in a town that is both military and has retirees is that you get food from all over the country. That's how i ended up at the bagel shop. Sadly they didn't have vegan cream cheese, but they had hummus and peanut butter, so i got two bagels. Since i inhaled them both, i am now taking a break to write a bit so i can get my actual lunch over the bridge before setting up my tent and spending the evening on the beach.
One thing i've noticed since getting to Florida is people are extremely chatty. I don't know if it's because they're all on meth or if it's just a local thing, but i ended up on all kinds of winding conversations with people you wouldn't normally expect to chat with. Talking traffic accidents with the coat check lady at Flora-Bama. Talking the British Commonwealth with a gas station clerk who was selling me beer. Talking Diwali with the motel front desk. I kind of like it. Just a Florida observation.
-o-
Apparently the Navy stunt pilots were doing a show today. Just as i was crossing the bridge from Pensacola to Gulf Breeze i started hearing jets flying overhead, then they started dumping smoke and flying straight up in the air and flipping down in sync, creating symmetrical patterns in the sky. A bit later on when i passed through Pensacola Beach, they did some crazy low passes - lower than the highrise buildings on the beachfront - in very tight formation. I'm not really a fan of air shows because they seem like a waste of fuel, but you can't deny it is impressive to see. They really are fantastic pilots. And they made me feel like i got the full Pensacola: Wings of Gold experience.
Gulf Breeze was a funny stop. I went to Walmart to buy some tortillas and deodorant and three fucking cop cars were all pulled up with lights flashing surrounding this dude in the parking lot. Was he a wanted criminal? Did he have a gun? No. He was just a guy on holiday who had been busking. The cops were acting like fucking ICE because he was a foreigner. "Why are you here? How long are you staying in America? Where are you staying?" It made me fucking sick to see it, because there was nothing i could do to help the guy. This is exactly the reason why no music or entertainment venues should be pro-police. The police have a long history of harassing and intimidating street musicians, graffiti artists, immigrants, activists, people of color, gay people, travelers, teenagers, drug users... Where would the entertainment industry be without those people? You know you've stepped over the line when even old white ladies shopping in a red state Walmart are shaking their head and muttering about the cops going too far. Dude was just playing music, for fuck's sake.
Anyway, i minded my business and let the cops be shitheads. I found a Laotian restaurant that looked awesome, but it wasn't open, so i went to a Mexican place instead. Gulf Breeze, being some kind of ritzy exclusive island community, had a fancy Mexican place with cloth napkins and whatnot. They also had potato tacos! Who knew Florida would be where i would finally be able to eat vegan again. I got the potato tacos with grilled bell pepper, onion, refried beans and guacamole. In-house habanero hot sauce. It was very good. God i missed being able to eat vegan food that isn't just some iceberg lettuce and a limp tomato slice.
After lunch i cycled through the crowds tailgating all over Pensacola Beach to watch the airshow and went all the way up the island to Gulf Islands National Seashore. Leading into it was just several kilometers of empty road, white sand dunes on both sides, some beach grass, that was it. Because you need a pass to get in and there is no parking along the road, the views and beaches are pristine. I checked into my campsite, which was on a tents-only loop, and saw more tents than i have since leaving BC. Seems like Florida is much more serious about good, old-fashioned camping, in the national parks at least. There were a couple hours to sunset, so i rode up to Fort Pickens on the point and looked at some old military installations and walked along the almost completely empty beach. It was stunning.
Now i am bundled up back in my sleeping bag while all the families in tents around me fuss with their kids cooking hotdogs and marshmallows over their fires. I still haven't lit a single fire on this trip. I like adjusting my schedule to the sun. When the sun goes down, i get in my tent. When it comes up, i also rise. It's a much simpler way to live. But it's still nice to hear kids having fun and having a proper outdoor experience. I'm glad that sort of adventure isn't getting lost in the next generation. Those kids need to know the value of getting in touch with nature, because they'll be inheriting it when we're all gone.
Tomorrow i have another state park. I don't have any bars of 4G here so i can't book another one, but i think there's a whole string of state parks in the Florida panhandle, which should make camping a lot easier. Other hand, there are also bears (and snakes, and alligators, and cougars, and...) so i might need to be a little more careful again.
-o-
Oh, the perfect breakfast. Two brown English muffins with vegan sausage and fruit on the side. Just like a breakfast at my mom's. Oh, how i missed just getting fresh, healthy, vege food on the road.
Florida rocks.
I headed out of the national park yesterday, and continued along one barrier island after the next. The best parts were the stretches of natural preserve - no parking on the side of the road, no commercial traffic, no RVs, just a few anglers and beach bums zooming past. White sand dunes on both sides of the road, turquoise water just beyond that. Stunning. Perfect.
But there was some bullshit too, most notably the residential/holiday homes areas along long stretches of the road. I thought the Mississippi gulf coast did it wrong by putting a dual carriageway along the beach, but now i changed my mind. It is much, much worse to put houses and resorts along the beach, so you can't see it from the road, and there is no public access any more. Not only that, but these residential strips went on for miles and miles without a single shop.
Perhaps this is my eurotrash showing, but what kind of beachside holiday is it when you can't nip downstairs for a fresh brioche or a croissant? And don't tell me these folks cook everything themselves because i know they don't. I've read the reviews of nearby restaurants. These holidaymakers stay in a beach house or an RV resort and then drive 10, sometimes 20km every morning to go get breakfast and leave some snarky review. So the roads are relatively busy, they're not really safe for children to play, and the very few cafés that are open are all next door to one another in the tiny commercial district and have lines out the door because everyone has come for miles around to eat there. It's absurd. I am pretty sure when i was staying on the Lido in Venice i could walk to an espresso stand, and a bakery, and a couple of other little local places. It makes for a far less stressful holiday when you don't need to drive to get anywhere. American car culture truly fucking sucks.
But it got worse. There is this strip called Navarre Beach where i think i met the biggest assholes in America. The town slogan is like... Most peaceful beach in Florida or something. But i was constantly beeped by jackasses who apparently were too impatient to wait all of 3 seconds for a space so they could pass my bike. In particular on the bridge to the island, the pedestrian section is about as wide as a single (thin) person, with tall barriers on both sides. What do you want me to do, cycle there and block the entire bridge for pedestrian traffic? Then the stretch along Santa Rosa Sound - past the area round Eglin Air Force Base - was even worse again, with people beeping me to get out of the road even with a painted cycle path on the road. And not a single café or bakery was open because... Sunday, i guess? I mean, there were some gas stations and big box stores and fast food chains. Fuck me. It was the worst.
Then i got into Fort Walton Beach and it was instantly better. Lots of hipster kids getting brunch at fancy pants breakfast places. Loads of diversity in the lunch spots. Uniformed military heading out to eat. I saw a Jamaican place that unfortunately was not open yet ("we runnin' a bit behind") so i went to a Hawaiian joint for an early lunch. I got kalua pig on greens and rice, and a spam musubi. It was all very subtlely flavored, a bit like Japanese food, but the flavors were elegantly balanced so i really enjoyed it. See, ya don't always need a ton of chilis to please me, as long as you cooked it well in the first place.
After lunch i continued along the beachfront to the long resort strip of Miramar Beach. Where i found a beach shack on stilts and decided to stop to get some more silly fruity cocktails. I mean, what even is the point of coming to a white sand beach if you aren't going to sit under a palm tree and get tipsy on something with pineapples and coconut in it?
Somewhere along the way i met a beach bum who chatted a bit about climate change ("people got all kind of theories, but it's just the ocean man, can't stop the ocean, the water does what it wants") and private property ("how can you make a private beach man, the beach belongs to noone, it's the water's") and Canada ("Rush was my favorite band growing up man"). He was a dude. He said my campsite at Topsail Hill was a good pick, but Grayson Beach would've been even better ("lotsa hippies down there"). That's how i ended up at Grayson Beach for breakfast today.
It wasn't without its troubles. I woke up and went to the in-park coffee shop (Florida knows how to do it, man, putting a fucking coffee shop inside a state park), and then ended up chatting to another beach bum local who had lots of tips about where i should go on my bike tour to maximize the free/cheap camping and minimize the highway rides. Essentially his tips were to follow the established cycle trails around the state, which i have avoided up until this point because cycling the trails i feel like i'm missing out a bit on the local culture and just ghettoizing myself in the trail cycling/thru hiking community. Drivers need to know that cyclists are allowed to use the roads too, we need to be visible. But... Getting on a trail now and then sure is nice.
I discovered that again this morning when the bridge to Grayson Beach was closed and they wanted me to do a massive detour up to the highway and back. That's when i stumbled upon the trailhead for the Longleaf Greenway, which is a short hiking trail/single-track mountain bike trail through the pine woods, sand dunes and marshes along the coast. Holy shit, what an awesome ride. There were a few sections of deep watery bog, but thankfully i saw a mountain biker zoom ahead of me and he said it was alright, so i plucked up the courage and got my feet a bit wet but made it through. The foliage was almost totally crossing the trail in parts, so it really felt like you were in the jungle, bushwhacking your way through. So fucking cool. I loved it.
And here i am on Grayson Beach. Healthy vegan breakfast. And i plan to get a cocktail and maybe a snack at the bar that the guy yesterday recommended before cycling on to my next campsite near Panama City Beach. It's only a short ride so i don't need to book it along the highway or worry about taking single-track detours through the bush. This is the life, man. I'm finally properly on holiday.
-o-
After writing that last instalment, i had a drink at the bar and a short walk on the beach, then got back on the road and promptly got an epic flat tire. I saw the broken glass on the road and knew it would suck, but i cross broken glass every day and usually it's okay. Not today. It took me almost an hour to change the tube because this rim is so tight. And of course i put it on back-to-front. Cycled to a nearby bike shop to get a new tube, and then decided to buy a new tire at the same time. The old one was almost bald already. Riding fully-loaded really destroys the back tire. They only seem to last about a month, which i suppose is around 2500km so perhaps not that bad.
Because daylight saving happened, and because i am right on the very edge of the central timezone, the sun now sets around 4:30pm. I had less than 2 hours to make it the 40km or so to my campsite before twilight. So i fucking booked it.
To be honest, i didn't miss much - aside from lunch. Panama City Beach and the communities next to it are all real trashy spring break lookin' kinda beachfront resorts. Highrises, private beaches, golf cart rentals, thrill rides, drinks specials, scantily-clad bartenders etc. I feel like i am too old for that sort of stuff, and i didn't much enjoy it even when i was a twentysomething. I blasted past all of it and popped out at St Andrews state park, which is an oasis of peacefulness right on the end of a peninsula. I made it just in time to set up my tent at sunset, right on the waterfront. I felt like the place should've been a million bucks but it was "only" $28. Electric and water hookup too. Real luxury.
I slept well, barring an unfortunate accident where i was so excited to be able to watch some shows in my tent that i spilled a bottle of sweet tea and left everything wet and sticky overnight. I think i managed to wash and dry most of it off this morning, but it wasn't my best move.
Right now i'm in a parking lot in suburban Panama City where i found a panadería and got some pan dulces. It's not even 10am, so i have a couple hours to cruise down the coast, get lunch at a small town along the way, then hopefully set up camp at the Indian Pass campground.
-o-
Riding through Tyndall Air Force Base was interesting. Heading up there, through downtown Panama City and the suburbs, it was an odd environment. Lots of abandoned storefronts. But nice, friendly-looking houses. Nothing ostentatious like most of the other coastal places i've been. Just outside the base they had all the necessities to support a military crowd - gas station, BBQ shack, donut shop, black hair products, Korean grocery store.
The first thing i saw after crossing the bridge to the base was a military school, and it reminded me of my childhood, going to a British Forces school in West Germany with all the other army kids. There is a sort of camaraderie because you're all military, but also the friendships can be fleeting because your parents will get different postings so who knows how long you'll stick around.
Then it was something like 30km of wasteland. I would've loved to have taken a photo, but i'm wary of being tagged as a spy so i just kept going. The signs indicated that most of the land was used for dropping ordnance. I didn't get to see any explosions.
The first town on the other side of the base is Mexico Beach, which was completely destroyed by a hurricane a few years back. It's a bizarre place, a bit like a richer (but not much richer) version of Cameron, Louisiana. Almost the whole town is under construction, unfinished beach house after unfinished beach house. I guess people are moving back there despite the threat of another hit. There wasn't much for stores in town, but there was a taco truck that catered to the throngs of Spanish-speaking construction workers. For a change, i got a torta, when i saw that they literally just got the bread delivery while i was standing in line. It was excellent.
Then i headed on down to my campsite in the middle of nowhere Indian Pass. I stopped at Port St Joe, because i had heard it was a quaint "old Florida" town, but it's just a tacky tourist town with the usual mediocre pizza place, "authentic" (read: not) Mexican place, antique shop and a couple of chain stores. After that i headed deep into the so-called Forgotten Coast.
It's not really forgotten. It's just less developed than the "remembered coast". Instead of beachfront vacation homes crammed in like sardines, it's large sheds where people park their RVs and expansive mansions with lots of palm trees and pine trees between them. Quite pleasant and picturesque to cycle through, but the whole waterfront is "private", so it doesn't really feel like a place for ordinary people, only the wealthy.
Indian Pass is much the same, except for the quirky little campground on the point. It's all whimsical corners and RVs parked up under palm trees. It had a very unique and relaxed feeling. No cell reception. No wifi. And although my site theoretically had electricity, the 110V standard outlet didn't work. It was very beachy and chill, though at $40 you'd hope so. I did laundry and had a hot shower. Woke up the next morning under palm trees. Not bad.
After an hour or two of cycling i popped out at a small town called Apalachicola, which is actually the quaint fishing village i hoped Port St Joe would be. I am currently at a coffee shop that serves a whole menu of Venezuelan goodies, right opposite the shrimping warehouses on the waterfront. I wish i could stay and sample all their stuff, but i already booked a campsite in advance, another 65km up in the direction of Tallahassee. I don't like booking campsites in advance, but this is the unfortunate reality of trying to find places to stay in Florida, even along the "forgotten" coast.
I guess i better get back on the road. Since i just crossed into the Eastern timezone, i figure this is as good a time as any to post this. Who knows if my campsite tonight will have signal?