Gator Blog: Day 8 The 2006-2007 Tour

I once saw a bumper sticker that proclaimed some of the best wisdom for living I have seen in a long time: "It is good for a journey to have an end, but in the end, what matters is the journey."

And so I cannot help but wax a little philosophical as we wrapped up Gator X today back in Fort Myers. The weather was just as nice as the day we started last Thursday, with temps well into the 80s. The humidity was high for this semi-arid West Texan (meaning that Floridians were thankful for the nice dry air). But all that was backdrop, as it was indeed the journey that mattered most.

Eight days, 832 miles. For first-timers on the tour, they got to see parts of Florida they had no idea even existed. For "repeat offenders," they got to see it all again.

In a strange kind of way, the last day of a bike tour is a lot like what happens when TV's Survivor is whittled down to the final three. Those remaining survivors traditionally take a long, reflective walk and ponder the ones who started the journey with them, but were voted off the island.

Not that we ever vote anyone off Hell Week, mind you.

It's just that we all spent a good chunk of the day remembering those who had done only a part of the tour with us, and had already headed home. And we pondered the good times we had just experienced with those still riding among us. The journey was fabulous, but it was drawing to a close.

And so we had ample opportunity to ponder as we left S. Lake Placid, first going through the little community known as Venus (where the shuttered remains of the Venus Store still stand), and then Palmdale, where the normally-closed store is being remodeled by an entrepreneur for whom hope springs eternal in his pocketbook. This first leg of the day's route caused us to ponder the disappearance of all the people and busineses from this area, leaving pretty much nothing except an occasional glimmer of better days ahead.

After a quick 14 miles to LaBelle, we retraced the first 48 miles of the trip. It was hard to believe a week had passed, and that we had successfully cycled throughout south and central Florida. I once felt that, as a tour director, I should never repeat any section of route, because it would cheapen the experience.

But now I feel differently. I think it adds a whole new dimension to the journey...you start and finish the exact same way. You come full circle. You leave no ends untied.

And hopefully you pause long enough to think about how you've changed in the interim.

I know I have. This is my 33rd Hell Week bicycle adventure (in numerous states across the US), and each one leaves distinct marks of progress on my soul. To not show evidence of growth after such an arduous trek begs the question: "What were you thinking?"

As for me, I think I like living the life of an 8-day adventurer. It thickens your skin. It intensifies your resolve. And it clears your vision.

And it's just something you have to experience for yourself, because it's too complex to ever begin to print on a bumper sticker.

Nick "Ready To Go Again" Gerlich

Gator Blog: Day 7 The 2006-2007 Tour

"Ugh. I think I ate too much."

And so I whined after the lunch stop, some 57 miles into the interior of south Florida. The early-morning tailwind had shifted to the southeast, ushering in warm weather, but also putting the brakes on our speed. I recalled last year when we hit this same stretch with a roaring headwind, and recalled how it can be quite difficult, even for flatland Florida.

Fortunately, it didn't get as windy as that 3rd day of January last year. But it didn't matter. With six-and-a-half days under our belts, I was tired. Never mind the 7 days thus far of 70s and 80s, and only minimal rain. Racking up big miles like this in the dead of winter is tough no matter how you slice it.

The fact that it is January was lost on the weather today, as temps climbed well into the 80s. The humidity was high, and we were all sweating buckets. It felt more like a typical midwest summer day. The only problem is that most of us have to return to midwest-type climate in a day or so, ending our winter cycling fantasy.

Day 7 is the longest of the trip, covering about 115 miles (according to Garmin) from Bartow to South Lake Placid. As per the norm for this trip, the route did not follow a direct line from Point A to Point B. As one of our riders' t-shirts proclaimed earlier this week, "The shortest distance between two points is missing the point."

And I say a hearty "Amen!" to that!

It was balmy at daybreak, meaning that jackets and arm warmers would be left behind. And it got warm quickly as we headed south on the old road out of Bartow headed to Fort Meade, and then Bowling Green for the first stop. By 9:30 it felt like a sauna. I pity Dave B. and Tom A. who were riding with me, for I was sweating like a fountain.

A 16-mile due-south stretch after the break tested out mettle into that newly-minted southeast breeze, but we made good time of it anyway. Shortly after turning at the Limestone store we came upon Becky and Mark parked under a sprawling oak tree amid the orange groves, awaiting our arrival with lunch.

And that's where I forgot that I was riding a bike, and not headed for an afternoon siesta. So I ate far more than was advisable.

I paid dearly for that faux pas as the afternoon miles wore on, struggling to hang on to Dave and Tom at times, and continuing to splash everything within about five feet. I was elated to see the crew set up at 84 miles just before the turn onto FL Rt 66. It was 84 in the shade. That just seemed to be the number of the hour.

The three of us guzzled one soda after another trying to rehydrate, but it just didn't seem to be working. So we shoved of and decided to just get the miles done. We were pretty much bringing up the rear most of the day, except for Stan N. and Jen S., who had elected to add 10 before lunch (not intentionally, mind you).

After 6 miles, Tom A. peeled off and headed for Avon Park to pick up his van. His 5-day tour was over; he would later drive to our motel to pick up his gear, and then head off to resume life off the bike. Dave and I continued toward our destination, passing the Henscratch Winery, and then scenic Lake June.

A little traffic in Lake Placid helped wake us from our mental slumber, and then it was only another 7 or so to wrap around town to the east and south to our destination along US 27 south of town.

As dusk ensued, we held our annual cookout to bring closure to the trip. Some of our riders depart right after tomorrow's mils, so this is the last chance to hang out with everyone.

And just like at lunch, I think I ate way too much. I'm going to bed.

Nick "Belly Buster" Gerlich

Gator Blog: Day 6 The 2006-2007 Tour

It's amazing how the human body adapts to hard work. What initially starts out feeling difficult becomes routine. And so have things progressed at Gator Week. With six days under our belt, we've covered nearly 620 miles.

And it's beginning to feel like just another day on the bike.

Of course, when you have nothing to do all day except ride 100 miles, it really isn't that difficult. Break it up into fairly equal segments of 25-30 miles, and suddenly you just have four easy, short rides each day.

"Easy for you to say, Gerlich! You've been doing this for years."

"Not true," I retort. "We've got several first-timers out here this year who are burning up the road...and they aren't an old fart like me."

Which all makes me very happy. Our group has over a 30-year spread in age, and everyone is covering the ground with equal vim and vigor. Today we rode from Winter Garden to Bartow, an interesting route that included segments of several bike paths, extremely hilly riding through Clermont, rolling hills through the orange groves between Haines City and Lake Wales, and a return to table-top flat land the last 20 miles into Bartow. All told, we rode 105 miles, starting in a chilly light rain, and wrapping things up in mixed sun and clouds with temps in the low-70s.

This afternoon we bid adieu to Todd S. (Lexinton), and Tom, Robyn, and Ross R. (Chicagoland) as they completed their 4-day half-tour option. The remainder of our troop heads mostly south tomorrow for 112 miles to Lake Placid. Tom A. (Chicagoland) will conclude his 5-day option tomorrow as well.

I continue to be impressed by the riders in our group. I know that Becky and Mark on the crew find this tour to be quite easy to care for. It makes crewing so much easier when everyone is congenial and riding well. They get into a rhythm much like we do as riders: wake up early, prepare breakfast, head down the road for two sags and a lunch, and then arrive at the motel, check in, and set up the post-ride hangout.

Sometimes they get creative, like with today's Mango Tango slush drinks served at the afternoon sag.

And that's something my body could get adapted to quite nicely, thank you.

Nick "Brain Freeze" Gerlich

Gator Blog: Day 5 The 2006-2007 Tour

In Florida they have another phrase for rain. They call it Liquid Sunshine.

And so today, our fifth day in The Sunshine State, we awoke to buckets of sunshine pouring down on our heads. But on a tour like this, the ride goes on. People have often asked me, "Hey Nick, what happens if it rains?"

"You get wet."

But it was a warm rain, and most of the heavy stuff had abated by 8am. We were thus left with a couple of hours of light rain as we headed northbound for 23 miles on the Withlacoochee State Trail, and then turned east toward the city of Lake Panasofkee. By the time we hit I-75, the roads were dry.

Not bad for winter. Seventy degrees and rain is a treat for many folks.

In a twisted routing move, I took the longest way possible to get from Brooksville (I-75 and FL Rt 50) to Winter Garden, a suburb of Orlando. The sign on Rt 50 outside our motel last night said it was 50 miles to Orlando.

But I managed to squeeze 105 miles into the day (or 110, if you opted to do the optional ride up Sugarloaf Mountain near Clermont).

So much for taking the easy way out. This is Hell Week, remember?

The storminess preceded a cold front that is supposed to pass tonight, and thus stirred up the wind most of the day. Between the wind and the rain, our speeds were slower. But no one seemed to mind; in fact, the dry, cloudy afternoon with temps in the 70s suited everyone just fine.

Of the five days thus far, today's route is the favorite. After lunch in Center Point we gradually got into the rolling hills that make Clermont such a famous place for cycling. The hills and numerous lakes make for top-notch scenery, and also provide some opportunities to stand up to pedal.

And after five days of riding, that's not a bad thing. A butt can only take so much, you know.

The afternoon rest stop in Minneola gave us a chance to refuel as well as ponder the Sugarloaf Option. About half of the crew elected to do the extra five miles, a hard-earned, thigh-burning bonus that was made even more difficult after almost 500 miles of riding since Fort Myers.

Sugarloaf rises 207 feet from its base, and from the top spectacular views of Lake Apopka and downtown Orlando beckon cyclists to click out and take a breather. One resident at the top even has a permanent water stop for cyclists at the end of his driveway, testimony to the popularity of that route among cyclists.

Finally, in a nod to Gator Week tradition, six of us stopped in Montverde with only 10 miles to go. Totally self-indulgent and decadent, our purpose in stopping was to slam down a pint of Mississippi Mud from its unique bottle that looks more like a jug of moonshine. The gator on the label makes it all the more appropriate for our tour.

While this morning's rain made for mud and grime, our afternoon "mud" left us all in good spirits. Let's just say that we found a different kind of liquid sunshine.

Nick "Here's Mud In Your Eye" Gerlich