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

Gator Blog: Day 4 The 2006-2007 Tour

"That'll be $6 to share your meal."

So said the waiter last night at the Red Rose Tea Room at the Ramada Inn in Plant City.

So Lauren D. (Boulder) and Todd S. (Lexington) ponied up the extra money to share a large plate of spaghetti. Swank restaurant notwithstanding, I suppose it's easy to get just a little sarcastic over unwarranted charges.

Little did the poor server know that he would become the butt of all our jokes today.

"Hey Todd, you wanna split a burrito? That'll be six bucks."

And so the jokes continued as we pedaled from Plant City, around Lakeland, and then onto the fabulous Van Fleet State Trail, a wide paved multi-use path running north-south through the Green Swamp in the middle of the state.

From the sounds of things early in the morning, everyone was looking forward to an easy day. But just put a bunch of cyclists together, and in no time flat someone throws down the gauntlet.

And so we were off once more, sweat dripping off our brows, sun continuing its bronzing effect on our exposed skin.

This being a Sunday, traffic was virtually nil (except around churches...but more on that later). We all made great time around Lakeland, took our first break at the intersection with US 98, and then headed east on Rock Ridge Road for the bike path.

The path itself was awesome. It's so nice to unplug and just ride without a thought (except for keeping an eye out for gators, snakes, and giant tortoises, that is). Ten miles of pure cycling bliss...that's what it was, and with a tailwind on that section, no one complained.

The route today actually is a bit strange, as it has all four directions in it (thus guaranteeing some headwind stretches), but ulimately dives north and west toward the intersection of FL Rt 50 and I-75 east of Brooksville. A "short" day (97.5 miles) had everyone thinking "easy day." It's amazing how anything even minutely less than 100 is seen as "just another ride."

But I digress.

Shortly after exiting the bike path we had our second provider of joke fodder in 24 hours. Last year the crew had set up lunch on the spacious lawn of a rural Missionary Baptist Church. But this year our Day 4 landed on Sunday, meaning the building was filled with parishioners.

The crew had everything set up on the far side of the acreage of this church, when all of a sudden two men carrying huge Bibles (with the big gold letters on it) came out to evict them.

In the Name of the Lord, I presume.

I know...we were just dropping in, we were all sweaty, and we hadn't asked permission. But the swift eviction these men handed down just did not speak well of the Christian name this church professed.

So the crew packed everything up and drove down the road to an orange grove a short distance hence, whereupon they fixed burritos. And there was no charge for sharing.

Between the $6 jokes and numerous putdowns of our rural "Christian" friends, we rode on...down quaint Tuscanooga Road, through Center Point, and on to Webster for the afternoon rest stop.

Where the love bugs were out in force.

Nothing like a bunch of smelly cyclists to stir up a swarm of pesky insects. I suppose that was all well and good, because they caused us to not linger long. And so we were off for the final leg, a series of quick turns that took us up and over I-75, past the Florida National Cemetery, and over the Withlacoochee River.

And then the final punch home: 9 miles on the Withlacoochee State Trail, yet another of Florida's incredible bike paths. More or less shielded from the wind by dense forest, we made quick time of it and arrived at our destination earlier than we have yet on this trip.

Four days...408 miles...abundant sunshine. We wouldn't split it with you for $6, or $6000. You'll just have to come experience it for yourself next year.

Nick "Happy 2007!" Gerlich

Gator Blog: Day 3 The 2006-2007 Tour

They say that three time's a charm. Well, we've had three great days in a row on Gator Hell Week, and right now everyone is saying the weatherman is charming.

Chalk up another victory for the local Chambers of Commerce, for sunshine and 80s in December is what they love to see. It draws tourists to the Sunshine State. You can almost hear the kaching of cash registers statewide growing fat with money.

Of course, none of us are growing fat, for we are melting away the pounds. The longest day thus far, Day 3 took us 109 miles from near Avon Park to Plant City, now a suburb of Tampa. And let's not forget the benefits of a tailwind, for we had one much of the day.

I am particulaly fond of many of the roads we used on today's routes, especially the sections in and around Lake Wales. I've been cycling there since 1984. My father-in-law still lives nearby, so through the years I've been able to get to intimately know those roads.

Mile after mile of orange groves make for splendid lonely cycling. The hills around town help your pulse elevate a tad. And the scenic loop around the actual Lake Wales affords refreshing scenery.

The Garmin GPS topped 220 feet twice today, once on the north edge of Lake Wales (near Bok Tower), and then again after lunch on the ridge atop which sits Lake Hendry Road. Al Gore may prophesy global warming and rising oceans, but it's going to take a lot of warming (and melting) to ever wipe out this part of the state.

In a rather abrupt land-usage change, as soon as we rolled through Fort Meade we left behind the citrus-rich rolling hills and traded them in for phophate strip mining. Huge chemical companies there operate massive machinery to extract this mineral that will more than likely wind up as fertilizer on our lawns. The numerous lakes along the afternoon route had a surreal
manmade quality to them, which is bcause they are. Reclaimed and replanted, the old mine pits become new homes for the abundant waterfowl in the region.

And no doubt alligators.

As abruptly as we transitioned into phosphate country, we left it behind and experienced strawberry fields forever nar Plant City. The winter strawberry capital of North America is right here, and my parents obliged us by delivering six quarts of the luscious berries. If only we could transport some of that overpowering scent and take it with us for the rest of the week!

The weatherman forecasts warm weather continuing for the remainder of the trip, but with chances for scattered showers on Tuesday and Wednesday next week. While no one wants to ride in the rain, a warm rain still trumps a cold one any day of the week.

And with the red arms and legs that many of us are sporting right now, a few clouds might not be a bad idea.

Gator Blog: Day 2 The 2006-2007 Tour

Very few people have actually seen Lake Okeechobee. At 12 feet above sea level, it is one of the largest inland seas in North America. But there is a 30-foot-tall dike surrounding the lake, rendering it invisible from all nearby roadways.

Except that the State of Florida has slowly been building a paved bikeway atop that dike that will one day stretch for over 100 miles.

Today we started our ride from Clewiston by climbing on top of the dike and riding the path for 15 miles to Moore Haven, and in the process got to catch a glimpse of the lake. In spite of several hurricanes in recent years, the lake is still beneath historic levels, and thus does not extend all the way to the dike.

That paved path set the tone for the rest of the day, for we had nice shoulders on all highways thereafter. Riding was simple (there were only a handful of turns today), and the sunshine and warmth were abundant. Were it not for the calendar to remind us, it felt like summer.

Some 98 miles later, our route finished in Avon Park. Along the way we "climbed" to the central Florida highlands, all the way to 148 feet above sea level. The tailwind that pushed us most of the last 40 miles made that little climb a piece of cake.

Earlier in the day our route took us through the Brighton Seminole Indian Reservation, complete with casinos. The only thing that separates the Brighton Seminoles from Las Vegas would be about 125,000 tourists, for it seemed that no one was interested in gambling...or even being in the neighborhood for that matter.

Which was all fine and dandy with us, because we took over the roads and held sway over the turkey vultures interested in whatever happened to lay along the roadside.

Today we got to see some of the old Gator route, except today we were headed in the opposite direction. Some of the "repeat offenders" on the ride quickly had a deja vu experience as we stopped once again in quaint little Lorida, Florida, for our afternoon sag. We then followed Arbuckle Road into Sebring, and followed the new parkway over to US 27 for the final three
miles to our night's lodging outside of Avon Park.

Even though this is the second day into the trip, everyone rode much faster today than on yesterday's opener. I think it was the absence of headwind. Overall, everyone's time was about an hour faster today. And that winter tan is coming along quite nicely, thank you. Sunscreen notwithstanding, we are beginning to look like Floridians. Our goofy trademark cyclist tanlines are returning to their normal summer boldness.

And given what's happening with that big winter storm out west, I think that's something we're all thrilled to be seeing.

Nick "Weather Is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful" Gerlich