Day 2, Keys in the Water

I like to stand on the beach and stare out as far as I can.  I don’t have any problem seeing the other side in my mind’s eye.  The distances are staggering for the eyes but just a small trip for the imagination.

For the next 7 days, distances would be both monumental and completely irrelevant.

I stood on the hotel beach after a very stressful morning.  Tremendous technical difficulties with my phone and laptop ate up an hour and I was never able to resolve them.  That kind of thing drives me batshit.  I fix things, goddamit.  I don’t live with technical problems, I make them go away with one hack or another.  Not today. Screw it.  Time to go. 

So, before loading the bike, I walked out onto the hotel beach to relax and do the thousand- mile stare.  

The sky was deep blue and cloudless.  The sun washed everything with clean bright light.

I took some deep breaths and stepped to the shoreline.  I tossed the keys into the water and stared down at them for a minute.  I snapped a couple of pictures and picked them up.

The keys had been dipped in the waves of the southernmost coastal town in Texas.  This shit was on.

Day 2 Route

 Back across the bay towards Port Isabel.  The water was a pretty greenish blue and the town on the bay is quaint and only a little touristy.  I rode through it to connect up to 77.  Heading Northeast, I saw my waving wind turbines again.  I thought of Don Quixote jousting with windmills.  He would have shit himself if he had seen my windmills. 

There was a mandatory border patrol checkpoint about 15 miles up 77. I have never been through one.  It was pretty easy.  They had a drug sniffing dog.  He looked really happy.  I couldn't tell if he wanted to play or was just really excited that he might get to chew off one of my legs.

They walked him around my bike.  Thank god they didn’t decide to search my bike.  I wasn’t carrying anything but it would have taken us hours to sift through all my gear.  There are a million places I could have stashed several kilos of whatever. 

They asked if I was a US citizen.  I said yes and they waved me through.  I spent the rest of the ride to Kingsville thinking about why they would have a checkpoint that far from the border.  Best I can figure, if you walk or swim across, you still have to take 77 if you want to get anywhere.  If they didn't get you at the border, maybe they can get you at this checkpoint.

Made great time up to Kingsville and then on to Driscoll.  Grabbed a county road over to 286 to 358 in Corpus.  The landscape kind of reminded me of Kansas.  Horizon-stretching crop-growing flatness.  You could see for miles.  I loved it.  It felt lush and healthy after the desert of 77.

I was about 5 miles north of the bridge when a guy in a convertible red corvette rolls up next to me and honks.  He was early fifties with a baby mullet, looking at me with this shit-eating grin on his face.  I looked over at him, trying to figure out what the hell he wanted.  His smile faded and he drove away.

I don’t know if he thought I was a woman or maybe he thought I was someone he knew.  Maybe he wanted to hook-up but decided to pass when he saw my face.  Shortsighted bastard.  It could have been beautiful.

Broken-hearted and more than ready to be at the state park, I rode across the bay bridge.  One thing that I didn’t think about in the prep phase was bridges. There were so many. This was one of the prettier ones. 

John F Kennedy Memorial Causeway: Credit Cardcow.com

The water was the same jade green as South Padre.  Made it to Mustang Island SP with little effort.    

The loneliest parts of the trip were setting up camp or checking into hotel at the end of the day.  I’m not particularly fond of being alone. Or, I like it, but only for short times when I can look forward to connecting with other people soon.  There was something about setting up camp just for me that felt incredibly lonely.  I won’t say sad, just somewhat isolated.

I checked into Mustang Island State Park easily and headed over to my campsite.  The camp felt a little cramped as there were bigass RV’s on all sides.  Still, there was some grassy areas for a tent.  I was able to set up camp pretty quickly.

At this point I had some options.  Shoot back over to Corpus to do the 6 or 7 activities that I had planned or have a really good dinner on Padre and then go fishing at the beach.  Guess which one I did. 

I rolled back into town to grab a couple of supplies and get some dinner.  I ended up in this unassuming little restaurant called Dragonfly.  The décor was what I would call “island elegant”.  Not white table cloth or anything but classy in a casual island kind of way.  You knew that this wasn’t a beach diner.

Dragonfly: Credit www.dragonflycuracao.com

The service was nice and the food was amazing

Back to the State Park to fish and take pictures.  Here is what the sunset looked like from the beach:

Here are the seagulls that tried to take the hot dog off of my hook while I was casting.

Sure he looks innocent here but these bastards are aggressive!

And here is a picture of the fish I caught

You’re browser didn't screw up the picture. I caught exactly squat.

I headed back to camp.  It was off to bed on my oversized (somewhat) self inflatable camp mat. 

I think the most significant part of the day was standing on the beach and seeing only one shadow.  I’m used to seeing 3 others along with it.  Day 3 would bring all the shadows back together again.  I couldn’t wait. 

Charitable Component

I originally wrote this before the trip but I never posted it.  The time never seemed right.   Check the bottom for why I’m posting it now.

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I come from a long line of charitable mother****ers.  My Dad is an executive with a fairly large non-profit.  He has spent most of his career helping non-profits and he is, quite simply, a financial and managerial badass.  I used to love to go to work with him when I was a kid.  He has this way of talking to everybody with respect, Whether you are an executive or a warehouseman, you get the same courtesy and consideration.  I model my corporate communication style after his but I’m nowhere near as good at it.

He could have gone anywhere and been a winner.  He chose non-profit after a start as a big-six consultant. 

His Dad was a lifelong Shriner (a subgroup of the Freemasons).  He achieved the highest rank within the Masons.  He used to organize and volunteer at the Shriner’s Carnivals in the Kansas City Area.  When I was a kid, he used to give me bicentennial quarters that he collected while working the ticket booth.

He also used to ride in their scooter and motorcycle parades.  One of my earliest childhood memories is the gleaming, 70’s Honda 350 in his garage.  He let me play on it. I think he may have taken me for a ride once but the memory is pretty fuzzy. I could probably draw the Shriner’s logo (that was emblazoned across the tank and windshield) from memory.

For the last several years we’ve been donating a little to the Shriner’s Hospital in Galveston.  The hospital mainly serves children with burns and other severe/congenital injuries.  A few years back I heard that some friends of friends had to life-flight their son there after a campfire accident.  The Hospital is one of those “Pure” goods.  Light against the darkness type shit.

When I was 17, I spent a year as a volunteer firefighter with our Volunteer Fire Department.  I must admit that I wasn’t very dedicated and they tolerated me quite a bit.  Still, I learned a lot about fire service and first response.  Eventually, I left the department for personal reasons (and the fact that they had just about had it with my lackluster participation).  I’ve often wondered what the “personal reasons” were.  In the end, I think it was the kids. 

I had a horrible recurring daydream that involved kids in a house fire.  Some people are wired to deal with it and move on (our next door neighbor has been EMS forever).  Not me.  Couldn’t shake it.  Working major accidents off 290, I saw some pretty grisly shit.  I still have the occasional nightmare.  I have often wanted to rejoin but something always stops me.  Since I don’t drink any more, there is no way to unsee the really bad parts.  I’m just glad some people can do it.

Anyway, if I had to pick a charity for this ride, it would be the Shriner’s Hospital.  Partly because of my Dad and Grampa but mostly for what they do.  I couldn’t even hack first response. The folks at Shriner’s pick up the pieces and rebuild lives, most of it at no direct charge to the families. 

Same goes for the charities my Dad has supported all these years with above and beyond service.   My Grampa and my father aren't angels.  Both have engaged in some NFL-level fuck-ups (as have I) but it has always been clear to me how much they cared about people.

I’ll probably do 20 cents a mile (the trip will be about 2200 miles) to the Shriner’s hospital in Galveston.  I’ll also put the hospital logo somewhere on the bike.  Ideally I would like to drop off a check as I roll through Galveston.

I think Grampa would like it.  I wish he could ride with me.

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Why I’m posting this now,

Long story short, I wanted to “dedicate” the whole ride to the Shriners Burn Center in Galveston.  I had grand plans to roll up and donate a check.  Almost all of my timetables for the ride were completely wrong.  I got to Galveston on a Sunday and literally had no time to stop by the hospital.  I was extremely disappointed.  I was resigned to just sending them a check after the ride.  Not the most poetic or memorable outcome.

Then, on day 6, weird shit happened. I took a wrong turn in Tampa. This was pretty common as my Phone was being a world-class prick.  My wrong turn took me directly to the driveway of the International Headquarters for the Shriners…at 9:30 in the morning.  Holy. Shit. 

Fighting back tears (I was pretty raw and tired by day 6) I rolled in to the garage.  I took a minute to reflect on the whole thing and then walked inside.  I had my biker vest on with an old shriner tie pin that my Grandpa used to wear.  I walked up to the front desk and said that I would like to make a donation.  Somebody came right out and worked through the paperwork with me.  I told her some of the story and how it wasn’t planned, or that it was planned, just not really…you know, with the wrong turn and all.  She smiled and said “Oh it was planned, it just wasn’t your plan.”

Normally I argue with this kind of thing because I don’t buy any of it.  I had a very hard time calling up any argument on this sunny morning at the Shriner’s Headquarters.

The Shriners International Headquarters in Tampa, Florida

They had a tile dedicated to each chapter.  This was the one my Grampa belonged to.

I snapped a few pictures, texted J and headed across the Tampa Bridge.  I had lots to think about on the way to Key Largo.

Where the hell have you been?

You might ask “Where the hell have you been?”

My answer would be, lots of places. 

The Tampa Bay Bridge- I rode this one twice thanks to a wrong turn. Didn't really mind.

First let me apologize for not posting during the week of the trip.  I had these grand plans to post at least once a day with pictures.  I would also do videos and picture albums.  And then I found myself on the trip of a lifetime and I just couldn’t look away.

Still, I should not have just dropped off the face of the earth during the very week of the trip.  I WILL do a day by day rundown.  I WILL talk about the things I’ve seen.  There are lots of pictures, some with stories and some that don’t need them. 

First a quick status update.  I am currently sitting the Animal Kingdom Lodge (Disney World) with my family. Three days ago, my son and I rode the last 90 miles of the ride together.  We went from Key Largo to Key West.  The trip was a pretty grueling 3 hours.  Stop and go riding in the blazing Florida sunshine.  I full gear and a helmet, that kid did every mile and didn’t bitch (or even ask to stop) one time.  We spent last night in Key West.  It does not replace Galveston as my favorite coastal town (you understand, first loves and all) but it was the kind of place that I could become very comfortable.  More on that in a later post.

Now for some stats:

• 8  consecutive day of over 8 hours of riding each day
• 2 days of 13+ hours-a-day riding
• 4 nights camping in state parks with 3 of the nights back to back
• Over 2300 miles travelled
• I would estimate that I travelled at least 80% of the coastal roads on the US Gulf Coast.
• I only lost one item (my good flashlight)
• No fish caught (to many of you, this will not be a surprise at all)
• One blog post
• Countless phone problems
• 0 accidents
• 0 injuries
• 23384 bites from various species of carnivorous insects (chiggers are a tool of the dark one himself)
• Dozens of pictures
• Dozens of blog ideas
• 1 changed individual

On day 3, my mom asked, “Was it everything you thought it would be?”.

I quickly answered “Yes” but I couldn’t stop thinking about the question. I wonder if she knew what she was asking.  It was all of the good things I thought it would be but it demanded more of me than I had even dreamed it would.  In fact, had I known the hours involved and the sheer intensity of every moment, I might not have taken the trip.  I would have considered it untenable with my current lifestyle.  It would have been the biggest mistake of my life.

The real answer to my Mom’s question should have been “Yes, and it was so much more than I had planned.”

The unpacking begins with next post.

Lets talk about day one...on day 3

I'm writing this from Galveston at the Harbor House Hotel.  Since Friday, I've ridden over a thousand miles of mostly coastal roads.  I've lost count of how many towns I've seen and I'm only a third of the way done.

Due to the fact that my phone has let me down in some critical ways, this is the first chance I've had connectivity to post a blog.  I'm going to try and do better about posting these on the same day or at least only 1 day after.  Still, I realized that the trips take a lot longer than I had planned and damn near every hour of the day is filled with some task.  This is okay.  I’m really happy with the way things have worked so far.  It’s just bigger than I thought.  It’s demanding more from me than I expected.

One of the effects is that not all of the pictures will be my own.  Most will and I’ll point out the ones that I’ve shamelessly pulled from Google images.  If you don’t see the citation, it means I took the picture.

Now, onto Day 1:

Day 1: Houston to South Padre Island

’m happy to say that today was pretty uneventful.  I made it from home to South Padre with very few problems.  Took about 9 hours total trip time.  Pretty much what I figured.

There was one scary moment.  I am pretty sure that I rode through a small dust devil.  It was just north of Raymondville.  I was riding along when it felt like a big hand pushed the whole bike toward the gravel shoulder.  The handlebars were unresponsive and all I could see was sand.  It was rough enough to flip the visor of my helmet up (this has never happened before).  I revved the throttle and bent over the tank to get the bike back under control.  I missed the gravel shoulder by inches.  Scared the shit out of me.  I watched the sides of the road for the rest of the trip just in case.

Borrowed Image: This wasn’t the one I rode through.  Mine was probably his younger cousin Pablo”  In any case, the little bastard almost kicked my ass.

This was the longest day I have ever spent on a motorcycle.  Other than being cold as hell this morning, it wasn’t really that much different from a car trip.  Today was the third longest day of the trip.  It’s good to know that this schedule is doable.  You never know until you try.

Regarding the scenery…

There is a certain tyranny to places with pretty highways.  They don’t play fair.  I was thinking of this most of the way down 77 to South Padre.  I’ve been through several towns lately and I catch myself judging the town by the way it looks from the road.  This is kind of ironic because my hometown of Houston (which I love dearly) looks like shit from I-10.  There are some lovely places in Houston.  Tons of public parks and a million things to do.  It’s a very livable city and I don’t plan to ever live anywhere else.

 Highway 77, not Abu Dhabi

So, as I drove the desert like corridor of 77, I thought to myself, what a shithole.  But then, I thought, “No wait, there are ranches all along here.  Those layouts must be amazing.  There is probably some really neat private acreage just off this highway.”  I’ll never see these places but I imagine they exist. So, no more judging towns by their highways.

Also, if you look you can find something cool about every stretch of highway. 

I really like the bigass wind turbines along 77.  They were several miles away but they are so huge that you can see them easily from the highway.  They look so graceful through the haze.  Kind of like big waving giants.  Kind of cool in a titanic way.

The end-game though was South Padre and last few miles of the trip did not disappoint.  I didn’t get any pictures of Padre from a distance but I will say that it looks really impressive as you cross the bay.

The hotel is a hell hole but in a good, honest way.  It’s old.  It’s representative of the time it was built.  It’s like an aging somebody who decided to get right with the wrinkles instead of having a doctor stretch their face into a permanent rictus grin.  I’m old enough to have visited this hotel when she was new and special.  I didn’t, but I can imagine it. This old girl is okay by me.  Still, I wish they would steam clean the carpets because they felt buttered.

I couldn’t stay in the room very long.  Down to the really cool park at the southern-most tip of the island.

I was struck by how much this place looks like Galveston.  The water is the same color (sorry folks, today the water on the beach actually looked browner that what I usually see in Galveston).  Same skanky ass seaweed.  Same wildlife.  Same beauty.  Felt like home.

But we definitely do not have beach Jesus.

You guys know that this is not my thing but the statue was beautiful and the base was made of big blocks of granite.  The blocks had inscriptions of names and people had left flowers and saints candles next to some of the names.  Guess I’m not the only one who feels a spiritual connection to the coast.

Still I prefer the buddy Christ.

  

As beautiful as this park was, it was really the only place I felt like taking pictures.  I really like it here.  The bay is prettier than the one in Galveston.  The water is blue-green and lovely in the sunlight.  I hate to draw comparisons but the two towns are so much like it is unavoidable.  At the end of the day, Galveston with its historic beauty and miles of accessible coastline wins hands down with me.  South Padre just doesn't seem like a town in its own right.  Of course this is one hurried ass day talking.  Given more time my opinion could easily change.  

There is so much more I want to write.  So many thoughts, feelings and ideas that I had along the way.  I think that is going to be a common problem for the next few days.  I'll capture what I can.  Maybe, I’ll do a post ride summary that captures all the incidental stuff.  In any case, that’s a job for May.  Today is April 20 and I need to go ride now.  See you later.

I am ready

There is literally nothing left that has to be done between now and 5:30 am tomorrow when I start the bike.

All the bags are secured to the bag.  All of the necessary items are in the bags.  Reservations, directions and plans for all 8 days have been printed out.

I did not expect this at all.  The last couple of days have been very rough as I am already missing my family.  I also had the typical anxiety around getting everything ready.  There was also a pretty palpable sense of dread when I thought about leaving.  

I expected to only get about 4 hours of sleep tonight.  It’s the way these trips always go.  You can never do enough before leaving.  You never get it all done.  I’m all done.

J says to me “Good.  Now try and relax”

I had absolutely no response to that.  After all, this is a first in many ways.  I think I’ll just treat tonight like any other Thursday night.  Quick trip to the bar to say "Hi" to the Dart people.  I'll spend some time with the kids and help with bath and bedtimes.  Maybe catch up on Archer and hang out with J until bed time.

Thus, I’m afraid that this will be a somewhat anti-climactic blog post.  I’m completely ready, I feel great.

I’ll leave you with a quick pic of the loaded bike:

Compare it to the one at the top of the page.  I’ve learned a lot in 10 months.  In a way, the preparation has been its own interesting journey. 

Recognize this?

         

Kaylee: How come you don't care where you're  going?           

Book: 'Cause how you get there is the worthier part.

The Last Bit of Getting Ready

I’m not sure why, but the craziest part of the day seems to be the moments in between the alarm going off and actually getting out of bed.  It’s like the fear and anxiety portion of your brain boots up before the comforting filters that let you get through life.  Kind of a stupid design really.  I’ve learned to either use the time to relax and get centered or just get up and get the juices flowing.

This week is especially challenging as all the fears and uncertainties seem to be hiding in the wings.  Fuck ‘em, I’m doin’ it anyway.

The bags will stay on the bike just fine. I am a good rider and I’ve got three years experience on this particular rig. I have spare parts, tools, first aid kits and know-how.  No worries.  At least not any real ones.

The trip then, is just three days away.  Here is a fire-hose type status update:

·         Truck and Trailer are safely in Miami in a parking spot I swear was designed for them.  The people that run the parking lot are completely friggin’ cool and said that they would help in any way they could.  Disney trip stuff is packed in the trailer which is secured by 3 very large padlocks.  You would have to drill out a dozen ¼ inch rivets to even pry one of the doors open.  Thus family clothing and personal effects are adequately secured.

·         Most of the bike trip stuff is packed and quadruple checked

·         The new phone is functioning in a way that is mostly acceptable but we are still getting to know each other.  It’s a process, not an event.

·         The laptop performs well beyond my expectations and will be invaluable on the trip

·         Most of the maps and daily plans are printed out and ready to go

·         The bike is running extremely well.  It’s almost like it senses that the time is near.

·         Riding gear has been selected.  Looks like winter gear for this trip.  I can peel back layers if necessary but there are going to be some 55 degree mornings.  Combine that with a gulf wind and it might be below 40 at speed.  Gets a little old after the first two hours.

·         J and the kids will be meeting me in Galveston on Sunday.  Despite the obvious fact that I will be completely relieved to see them, they can also bring anything I forgot.  It’s a good setup.

·         A’s bike gear is in the trailer and he will be riding with me at least some of the way from Key Largo to Key West.  Should be fairly memorable.

·         J can track me using Maps and the GPS on my phone.

There is very little left on the to-do list.  Which is good because my self-discipline is about gone.  Enough planning and prep.  Time for kickstands up.

Zombie tired

So bloody tired

Here is a Text conversation with J around midday today:

Me: I feel like a zombie. 

J: “Fast or Slow”.

Me: “Well I started out all 28 days later but now I’m totally walking dead”

Just to be clear, I’m currently taking the truck and trailer down to Miami.  This is of course, the weekend before the big ride from South Padre to Key West.  

I leave next Friday morning.  The ride will take about 8 days.  I know that sounds like a lot of days to go only about 2300 miles but it is tougher than it sounds.  Even this truck trip is kind of tiring.

I’m writing this post from Milton Florida.  I left the house this morning at around 6.  By noon, I had already been driving longer than I slept last night.  It was only about 550 miles to get here but I was totally sapped when I checked into my hotel.  

I have about 650 more miles to go until Miami and I’m leaving around 5:00am tomorrow morning.  That means that I will be in bed by 8 come hell, high water or zombies (I have my son’s t-ball bat….which everyone knows is the best weapon against fast type zombies).  When the hell did this become about zombies….shit what was my point?

Right, Pictures.  The I-10 corridor is pretty freakin’ plain.  You really have to venture off to see anything interesting but I did get some shots of things that caught my eye.  Here they are:

Sunrise over Lost River east of Houston

Baton Rouge.  I was just really glad to see some water.

Funky old camper

Cruise Ship outside of Mobile

Tunnel in Mobile.  I think I was under the Gulf at this point.

Like I said, not great images but the drive was kind of cool.  I've never been this far east on I-10.

When I got here, I drove through Milton to get some things from CVS.  It is really kind of a neat little town.  It’s on the kind of river where you expect a Manatee to surface and say “’sup”

I wanted to stop and get pictures but I just couldn’t muster the energy.  I am a little concerned by this.  I have some pretty long days on the bike (not this long thankfully).  Setting up camp takes energy.  Am I going to be too tired to do anything once I get settled.  I hope not. I am staying at some really cool state parks.  I gots plans.

I am going to get lots of sleep next week and I’ll probably work out.  That usually helps energy levels a lot.

For now, its dinner (the MRE I brought sounded more appetizing than Waffle House) and sleep. 

I’ll catch up with y’all again tomorrow from Miami.