24: bistro, ferry ride, adopt a highway, lady on the bridge, david, courage

April 10, 2025

Jacksonville Beach to Fernandino Beach

After getting loaded up this morning, Brett took me to brunch at the 1928 Cuban Bistro, then guided me the safest way through Jacksonville Beach.

On the way out of town I stopped at a place recommended by Bill, Brett's friend, for a haircut. It's odd how I have this very powerful handheld device which contains all knowledge in human history, and can tell me just about everything I need to know.... and which I rarely use for a phone call. If I had, I would've learned before I arrived that there weren't any available appointments for another hour and a half, and wouldn't have wasted 15 minutes getting there and back through traffic.

There's a naval base in that direction. I couldn't tell what I was looking at so I used my telephoto lens, but it's pretty hazy. I was thinking they're building ships or, more likely, perhaps it's a port for them.

Just after passing the Naval Station I caught the ferry in Mayport. It departs every 30 minutes, and my timing was such that I only had to wait less than three minutes.

I checked them out to make sure they're not actually rats. Fortunately they're not.... they're people.

Although you can't see her in the above photo, there was a middle-aged African American woman with a couple of fishing poles in the water at the far end of the bridge, and a chair completely blocking the pathway. She saw me from a distance but made no move to clear the path for me. She wasn't even sitting in the chair.

I continued slowing down and finally had to stop, at which point she very, very slowly turned around and slid the chair forward with her foot just enough for me to ease by, never even glancing my way again. After waddling through the opening, I asked, "Any luck fishing?"

Not what she was expecting, and she finally looked my way.
"Naw, I'm just here for the relaxation." The words came out slowly.
I used the oldest fishing joke in the history of humanity: "Well, that's why they call it fishing instead of catching."
"Yessir. This is my therapy."
I commented on the beauty of the area, she agreed, and the confrontation she'd been expecting just never happened. We chatted another half minute before I started riding again.

"You have a blessed day," I heard over my shoulder as I pedaled away.

I've always wanted to adopt a section of the highway and claim the organization is "Elvis Lives Via Interstate Service," but instead of putting the entire name of the "organization," just put "ELVIS," the acronym. Then dress up as Elvis and clean up the roadside, maybe even with a guitar slung over my shoulder.

one of the many bike paths I was on today

I noted yesterday that these signs are placed all along the beach. Can you imagine taking your family to the beach and seeing a sign that warns "Stinging Marine Life," and having to turn around and drive your kids back home? "Sorry, kids, the man-o-wars are in the water today." Even when the flag is green you still need to "exercise caution."

Maybe this is why. If the riptide doesn't kill you, and the jellyfish don't get you, then the steep drop offs will... unless, of course, the sharks feel hungry.

There are wild bobcats in Florida as well.

I met my second bike tourist today, 75-year-old David. I rode up behind him and in spite of ringing my bell, which he apparently didn't hear, I startled him a bit. We talked as we rode and I learned that, having grown up on a rural cheese farm in Wisconsin, he’s also a Midwesterner. He does short trips every year and connected the final section of the TransAmerica Trail in 2024.

His most interesting story involved getting tear gassed by the police. In order to avoid getting drafted to Viet Nam, he enrolled at the University of Wisconsin in Madison (but eventually graduated with a Business degree so his deferment ended). He told the story of how he was in his third floor dorm room during a war protest outside when he got gassed. “So it blew into the windows?” I asked. “No! If you can believe it, those protesters would get gassed, come into the dorm and wash it off, then go back outside. After they did that a few times the police came into the dorms and gassed the entire place.” He and his roommate tried stuffing wet towels under the door but it still got in and his eyes burned pretty bad; they had to evacuate. It made me wonder at the courage of the protesters who would wash it off, then just go back into the fray, because tear gas doesn't "just wash off."

When we got to this lengthy bridge we split up because we weren't able to safely ride side-by-side.

I think my helmet might be a bit tight; I should probably loosen it. And it's definitely time for that haircut.

I stopped at the Circle K to get something to drink, and to eat the chicken wrap that Brett made for me.

It was warm, but not hot, and it felt ten degrees cooler in the shade. As noted previously, the route today was great.

I didn't mention the 10 mph tailwind which, combined with a separate bike path, beautiful scenery, and perfect weather, made this very possibly the best riding day yet.

When I got to the hotel I wasn't able to check in so I went to a bar with an outside patio and worked on the blog. Once in my room I stayed up until 1:00 uploading pictures and writing.

Not a very exciting day to read about, but it was one of the best yet for me.

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I'd like to talk about courage for a moment.

Mine, that is.

No, I'm not referring to the alligator wrestling incident, nor hanging out in a nonworking tent during a violent thunderstorm. Nor even the bravery required to enter The Last Resort. Or shower at the Scoot Inn.

The thing is, I'm not sure everyone reading this is completely informed about the inherent risks of cycling (or being) in Florida. I'm not talking about the risk of hurricanes, per capita number of fast food restaurants, or even the age and blood alcohol level of the drivers in this state. No, I'm talking about Florida Man. In case you haven't heard of Florida Man, I'll give you a little background.

It appears that there's a preponderance of Floridians who perform irrational, ridiculous, and maniacal actions and, in fact, are so batshit crazy there's even a meme about them.

Here are some actual headlines:
Florida Man Arrested for Pooping on Opossum in Public
Florida Man Tries to get Alligator Drunk, Gets Bitten
Florida Man Breaks Into Home, Cooks Breakfast, Tells Owner to "Go Back to Sleep"
Florida Man Reports Dead Body by Taking Skull to Publix, Using It as a Hand Puppet
Florida Man Tries to Rob Publix with Stapler
Florida Man Stops to Charge Ankle Monitor While Committing Grand Theft 380-lb Florida Man Hides Meth in Bellybutton

Something like that would scare away most people...
"Start in a different state!" you might urge. But not me....

The word you're looking for is "courageous."

Florida it is.

But the risks don't stop at Florida Man.

Apparently, when the temperature drops below 50F/10C, iguanas become torpid and are likely to fall out of trees after losing their grip on the branches. When you consider the fact that fully grown iguanas are up to five feet long (1.5 meters) and up to 25 lbs (11.3 kg), we're talking about serious head trauma. There are a lot of trees here, and a lot of iguanas. In fact, there are so many iguanas in the trees that they present a danger to unsuspecting humans riding their bikes. How do I know this? There are professional iguana removers (yes, you read that right: professional iguana removers).

In one article I read, professional iguana remover Michael Ronquillo warns people not to handle them even when they're lethargic, because they can become defensive after they warm up. I wondered, "Who in the world would pick up a lizard that just fell out of a tree?" Then I remembered which state I'm in:

Florida Man Arrested After Hitting Someone With Iguana

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Today's ride: 35 miles (56 km)
Total: 636 miles (1,024 km)

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Mark BinghamPlus, iguana droppings can contain salmonella. It’s too bad that guano only comes from bats and seabirds - if it came from iguanas, it would be iguana guano.
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9 hours ago

Bill ShaneyfeltChuckle! Teargas...

I was a civilian ammo inspector for the Army in the mid 1970s and function tested various kinds of tear gas munitions. Yes, some of it is highly persistent!

There was gravel in the area where some grenades were tested, and weeks later, working out there, we stirred up enough to burn the eyes.

Another time we were testing CS burning grenades, with gas masks in pouches and watching the clouds of gas slowly drift off to the east. Then we began sneezing and eyes watering and we ran up the small hill to the south, only to encounter a heavier concentration, and by then, we were slobbering and snotting like crazy as our mucus membranes suddenly went wild. Yeah, we ran back down the hill and the other way, laughing and dripping with bodily fluids running like a stream...

Memories!
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4 hours ago