urban bicycle journeys

In my seventy years I had never booked a flight for takeoff earlier than 6:00 AM. Nevertheless I was prepped for this spur of the moment Florida trip. With American Airlines credit card miles burning a hole in my pocket, destinations like Miami where there are nonstops from Raleigh/Durham seemed particularly enticing. It was freezing cold here in Chapel Hill NC. Whatever you say about South Florida, it generally has perfect weather in the winter. The 5:30 AM nonstop on a pleasantly normal sized airplane would land in Miami before 8:00 AM and I could be on the road cycling by ten or eleven. Howza!

From expenses billed on our business credit card, I had “earned” “status” on American Airlines. George Clooney stars in a delightful little 2009 movie Up in the Air about a morally dubious businessman who obsesses about his airline miles. Without even asking for it, my $ 15.00 “free” ticket got me a last minute upgrade. First class!

Tootie usually drives me to the airport but this was a little early. I booked an Uber for 4:00 AM. There was no traffic and we made all the lights. The normal half hour drive got me to the RDU terminal at 4:23.

Security and luggage check were a breeze (TSA Pre-Check!). I boarded the flight almost first in line. “Would you like a drink before we take off?” It was 5:10 AM. The heavyset guy next to me ordered a screwdriver, vodka and orange juice at this ungodly hour. Even I could not stomach that; “Black coffee, please.”

The less than two hour flight was smooth and pleasant. They did not give us a fancy breakfast up here in First Class, just a choice of which kind of granola bar or packet of cashews. Coffee comes in china porcelain cups.

From Miami baggage claim I retrieved my twenty year old plastic Samsonite suitcase with the Bike Friday folded inside. On the airplane I had schlepped the bicycle helmet, front bag, and rear luggage as carry-ons. Miami is one of the rare airports in America that has on-airport luggage storage. I staked out a floor spot for the half hour job of putting the bicycle together.

At a little booth in the airport I dropped off the empty suitcase then walked the bicycle out into the warm morning air and called an Uber. Danny, a very nice young man in sleek sunglasses who spoke little English, drove me and the bicycle sixty miles to a random spot on US-1 down in Key Largo FL. I felt like I was in a Humphrey Bogart movie.

Danny had folded down the seats of his hatchback so I did not have to re-fold the bicycle. On arrival we pulled out the Bike Friday. I was all alone in Key Largo.

Key West lay a hundred miles to the southeast. My plan was to bicycle to there in two days.

The temperature was in the low seventies and there was a strong wind at my back. The state of Florida has done a decent-for-America job in taking care of bicyclists on Overseas Highway US-1. There is often a bike path, sometimes just a big shoulder on the right, rarely but sometimes little protection at all.

The route of the Overseas Highway was the Overseas Railroad until the Labor Day Hurricane of 1935. On some stretches the rail trestles had been repurposed to a now-too-narrow highway, which was later replaced by a parallel new highway. Many of these former highway bridges are now a delightful combination fishing pier and bike path.

On some stretches the old bridges are not continuous and one has to cycle on the highway shoulder of the new bridge. It’s OK but not as relaxing.

There is lots of tourist schtick; tropical delights.

These boats are for sale, apparently to see how many horsepower one guy can truly have. Three times four hundred for the boat in the back.

There is Trump stuff out here.

I spent the night at room No. 6 of the Sea Dell Motel in Marathon FL, fifty miles in and halfway to Key West. It is one of those rare old places with a low price but clean and comfortable rooms, free of sketchy people hanging around.

I turned off the AC and opened my window to feel the ocean breezes. The roar of trucks on the highway fifty yards away was an added effect.

I was disappointed there was no bar scene half a mile south at the Barracuda Grill. It was half empty on this Friday night but had the comforting vibe of families eating together. There were a lot of American flags.

The food at Barracuda Grill was old school and acceptable but not spectacular. The bread was fresh and crisp. My waitress recommended the blue cheese dressing.

Pan fried pompano with a dollop of butter on top, with mashed potatoes and broccoli.

I walked back to the motel on the bike path along the highway.

I passed this piece of Mid-Century Modernism.

I had read somewhere that all of South Florida is a perfect petrie dish for invasive species. There were roosters crowing early that morning outside my motel window. Before heading down the road I cycled across the street here in Marathon to get cash at a Bank of America ATM and this bird was walking around the parking lot. Further on in Key West they are all over the place, seemingly the same color.

Updated weather now predicted heavy rain in the afternoon so I couldn’t dilly-dally in cycling the remaining fifty miles to Key West. Below Marathon is the longest over-water stretch; Seven Mile Bridge. The parallel old highway is open, but only some of the way. A through cyclist to Key West (like me) has to take the shoulder of the big highway. It was not all that frightening.

I looked over at the abandoned old highway where it had been interrupted in sections.

Cycling on the new highway I passed the famous Fred The Tree, an Australian pine that grows inexplicably on the concrete surface of the old road. Those putting up these Holiday decorations apparently have had to climb up there from a boat. Keys Strong, the sign says.

Throughout the Florida Keys one passes creative small businesses. Shrimp Now.

In a woodsier section with signs encouraging avoiding the endangered small key deer my rear tire went flat. I found a piece of wire sticking out. I was proud that I removed the wheel and fixed the tube (with a patch!) all in about twenty minutes.

On one of the small islands closer to Key West there was a section where a paved bike path looked out over what I think are mangroves.

There were various small sections of bridge including this newly refurbished bike-path-across-the-water.

Unfortunately, in other short stretches bike paths were nonexistent or had bridges closed for construction.

I cycled into Key West!

If Key West’s central neighborhoods evoke Uptown New Orleans stuck out on a tropical island perhaps it is because both places were built for hot climates in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Here in Key West it feels outrageous, what is this city doing here? Its current population is 26,000.

Just that morning, back in Marathon, I had booked a very nice place called Key West Bed & Breakfast. Even though it was expensive I had to share a bathroom but that did not seem a problem. There were two of them just across the hall . I reasoned that most people just keep the air conditioner going but I like fresh air. My room’s double hung sash window would not stay up so I propped it with my helmet.

As rain started I sat on the second floor shared balcony down the hall and admired the view. It felt like I was part of the street. Chill.

The desk clerk had recommended lunch just around the corner at Eaton Street Seafood Market.

A solo guy like me could sit outside at a former school desk and take in the day. Fresh pompano sandwich and New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.

One of the local roosters walked at my feet and I fed him tiny bits of plantain chips.

It poured rain the rest of the afternoon and evening making it was difficult to browse for restaurants. At a place called Azur the food, if it showed up at all, was delicious but the entire experience was uneven. On leaving, the rain had let up a little and I could walk around.

Looking in from the street at 9:30 PM the action in a kava bar seemed welcoming but I would have no idea what to partake of in such a place.

The view from my hotel’s balcony was again impressive.

I cycled away the next morning. Key West International Airport is one of the easiest in America to just bicycle up to. There is a good view of the ocean from across the street.

I was not flying; instead picking up a Budget Rent-a-Car to drive back to the Miami airport.

I had time the following morning to cycle a little around parts of Miami. That is another story; stay tuned.