18: routing issues, scary santa, a few shadows, cocoa and jed, a hard push

April 4, 2025

Indialantic to Titusville

Today's routing was a comedy of errors, except without the comedy. When I plotted it out in RideWithGPS I somehow completely ignored Jon's recommendations. We even drove down that road on the way back from the Space Center to see how it was... a shaded, smooth road with a modicum of traffic. It was a great route, but somehow (I suspect because I had a knife in my hand contemplating peeling my skin off) I just didn't plot it correctly.

Then there was that other routing issue. We'll get there.

After the first two days of having a headwind, I've had a tailwind every day since then. It's rather miraculous, and not something I'm taking for granted. I was thinking as I was riding this morning that I know it will end, but I've really enjoyed it so far.

I haven't seen a single farm, other than an Alligator Farm.

Scary Santa says hello. Either that, or "I'm coming for you."

Over the past couple of days, I've started seeing more and more Spanish Moss. It's seems rather sudden, because there's now so much of it.

With the cost of real estate in this area, I'm still surprised to see houses like this.

Somehow, it happened on this bridge as well: When I started the climb, the traffic significantly subsided. When I was heading down the other side it went back to normal.

After crossing the bridge I nicked the corner of Cocoa, Florida, then entered Titusville. Cocoa is where Buddy Ebsen was born and raised, better known to most people as Jed Clampett of the Beverly Hillbillies. Most people don't know that he was cast to play The Scarecrow in the original Wizard of Oz (1939), but Ray Bolger wanted that role. Ebsen didn't care either way and switched, taking on The Tin Man instead.

During filming he was hospitalized because the aluminum dust in his makeup "coated his lungs" (per the doctors who treated him) and he was forced to drop out, handing the role over to Jack Haley. Ebsen reported breathing problems for the rest of his life "because of that damned movie," but ended up outliving everyone in the film with the exception of some Munchkin actors, dying at the age of 95.

After telling Jon about Buddy Ebsen having been born and raised in Cocoa, his response was, "Oh, yeah? There’s always a lot of murders there," making me glad I had switched my final destination to a point a little farther down the road.

Now that I had completely gotten off Jon's recommended route, I used Google Maps to pick out a route. It's frequently a crapshoot between which one will try to kill you: Google Maps vs RideWithGPS. Sometimes they're really good, and other times you'll end up in a Mexican prison handcuffed to Big Earl for trespassing. The problem is, you never know which one will be better this time and, at 50/50, the odds are greatly stacked against you.

Today, the coin came up Google.

A No Outlet sign isn't necessarily an issue, because it could mean that you're going to be riding on a bike path that's smooth as glass, with fairies keeping you cool with their wings, and ripe fruit you can pluck from the trees as you pass. I stress the word could because, you know, the Mexican prison thing.

In exactly one hour, I would be wishing I was in a Mexican prison.

It's a bike path! ....although there is some sand. It wasn't too bad at first, and I was able to continue pedaling for a while.

I saw this in the sand, while I thought the sand was still interesting. Perhaps the two different colors should've given me a clue as to the depth of the sand.

I didn't make it very far before I had to stop pedaling and start pushing, but I could see an intersection just ahead and hoped it would get better after turning right.

At the intersection I started heading in this direction.

At this point, I'm starting to realize that what I'm doing isn't sustainable. I was almost horizontal when pushing the bike, and was only able to manage fifty feet before having to stop and catch my breath. Who would've thought that pushing 120 pounds of weight through sand would be so incredibly difficult? I later learned that this kind of sand is called "sugar sand." I can see why... it's exactly the consistency of sugar.

There was a side path which paralleled the one I was on and I wondered if it might be better. I wasn't even able to push the bike over to check, so I left it and walked over to check it out.

This HAD to be better than what I was on.

Me and my damned optimism. The pictures aren't great because all of my focus was on putting one foot in front of the other. I'm not sure what happened to my tailwind, but there was absolutely no breeze while I was in that section. I could see it blowing the leaves at eye level everywhere but where I was. How does that happen? It didn't appear to be that sheltered.

Combined with an 85% humidity and a temperature of 88 degrees, I couldn't keep the sweat out of my eyes. I tried pushing the bike on the grass beside the path, but it was just as soft. By now, the sand was in my sandals, chafing the skin where my straps were, and it was hot. Even before it began covering my feet I could feel the heat through the bottom of my footwear.

Stopping every 50 feet became every 40 feet, and I was breathing so heavily I couldn't close my mouth. I hoped a bug didn't fly into it. My Garmin flashed my heart rate: in the 140s, and sometimes in the 150s.... just pushing a bike. For comparison, when I was hammering it up the bridge as fast as I could in order to avoid getting hit by a car my heart rate was in the 140s.

Looking around this vacant hellscape I realized something was missing: there was absolutely no trash, nor remnants of homeless people. I envisioned a guy coming to this area, looking around and saying, "Awww, HELL no, man." Then, walking back to find a place under noisy bridge as he says over his shoulder, "You craaazy."

I'd been saving a liter of Gatorade and decided now was the perfect time to use it. Shortly after chugging two thirds of it, a queasiness started settling in my gut. Vomiting onto my feet would be a nice touch, I thought, but it eventually passed.

And where was that damned wind?!?! Just a little bit of breeze.... please.

I dreamed of huge trucks screaming past, missing me by millimeters, and fantasized about the caress of a blast of wind almost knocking me over. And how nice a Mexican prison would be.

It took about an hour to go less than a mile. When I saw a real road you would think I'd be like a man lost in the desert who sees an oasis and sprints for it, but I couldn't. I stopped thirty feet away, sooo close, gasping for a few seconds before continuing. Once on the pavement, I felt the breeze again, and started riding.

If this were an open, grassy landscape, it could be Dummitt Downs.

I didn't even bother checking into my hotel before getting something to eat and, more importantly, to drink.

After which I went across the street for this.

then to the hotel for a shower and a rest

Heart

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Today's ride: 51 miles (82 km)
Total: 448 miles (721 km)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	15
Comment on this entry	Comment	9

Mike AylingWhat's known as a character buliding day.
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1 week ago

C. B.Yowza
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1 week ago

Mark BinghamTo Mike AylingI’d prefer a profound lack of character. 😊
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1 week ago

Steve Miller/GrampiesTo Mark BinghamAlso known as Type 2 fun-awful at the time but makes for a good story later. Type 3 fun, by the way, is what lands you in the hospital, or kills you.
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1 week ago

Nancy GrahamWell, I always say, the most annoying, hardest, unexpected ride makes for such an interesting story to tell. And you did that quite well. I love stories and your photos. Well, I love your blog and blogging style.
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1 week ago

Mark BinghamTo Steve Miller/GrampiesOr a Mexican prison?
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1 week ago

Mark BinghamTo Nancy GrahamThank you so much ! ! !
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1 week ago

Karen PoretYour positive attitude got you through it..congratulations and keep this up!
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6 days ago

Lyle McLeodOk, I can’t bitch about a few km’s of kinda-fun single track.

I’m also getting shivers imagining being handcuffed to Earl
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4 days ago