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