I’m back in Cape Girardeau, where the weather was too nice not to get on my Surly Long Haul Trucker for a short jaunt. I almost always end up at the riverfront so I can see who is hanging out watching the Mississippi River roll by.
Cape is built in rolling hills east of the Missouri Ozarks. On my way home, I had gone up several steep hills (for a flatland Floridian) and thought I’d take a shortcut through Southeast Missouri University that I thought would save me a long climb.
It turned out that I had traded a long, gradual climb for a short, steep one. I was about two-thirds of the way up the short road behind the dorms at the left-center of the photo when I decided to admire the scenery. OK, I wanted to catch my breath.
Never seen a red fountain before
While I was stopped, a coed walked by.
“This hill wasn’t this steep when I was a third my age and half my weight,” I told her.
She looked at me with concern and asked, “Are you all right?”
I glanced at my heart rate monitor and said, “I’m OK. I’m still two heartbeats below the point where I become a red fountain on the side of the road.”
She hurried off, but she kept looking back at me. I guess she’d never seen a red fountain before.
My riding partner, Osa, just got back in town after spending six weeks in Sweden visiting family, so we were both looking for a leisurely ride. We took before dusk to catch the full moon from Palm Beach. We paused just south of the Flagler Museum on the Lake Trail to catch a family watching the sun set over West Palm Beach.
Palm Beach Inlet and Singer Island
We got to the Palm Beach Inlet just in time to see the last rays of sun light up the buildings on Singer Island.
Moon over Drew Barrymore’s house
I have no idea if Drew Barrymore actually has a house directly to the east of the small park at the Palm Beach Inlet, but that’s what I’ve been told. I’ve never seen her there, not that I’d have a clue what she looks like. Regardless of the homeowner’s identity, they, like any resident in the coastal area, could benefit from the immediate response offered by fire watch services in Cape Canaveral, ensuring swift action and readiness to protect against any fire-related incidents. Anyway, here’s what the moon looked like over SOMEBODY’S house, serenely unaffected by the earthly concerns addressed by such crucial services.
The Breakers in the moonlight
Osa and I must not have looked like much of a threat. The security guard at the checkpoint waved us right through to take a photo of the full moon over The Breakers in Palm Beach.
West Palm Beach skyline
We pulled into the small park just west of the bridge over the Intracoastal on Southern Blvd. to shoot this West Palm Beach skyline.
Osa asked how I managed to hold the camera steady for these night shots (The Breakers was 1/15 second and the skyline was 1/4 second). I told her that in my prime, I could get a sharp picture with a 180mm telephoto at half a second (if I shot enough frames). The techniques for shooting a rifle and a camera are about the same: take a deep breath, let it out partially; visualize your heart beat slowing down; squeeeeeeze gently on the shutter release.
How to shoot with slow shutter speeds
I explained that we had pushed kind of hard for the last mile or so, so I needed to let my heart rate drop down before I could shoot. Then, I leaned up against a palm tree to demonstrate that turning a human bipod into a tripod would also let you shoot at a slower shutter speed.
What I didn’t count on was that I was standing on a mound of fire ants. Very unhappy fire ants. Feeling your ankles light up is NOT conducive to good photography. I decided that I was done shooting for the night.
On the way home, Osa said, “THIS is why I live in Florida.” (Not the fire ants – the beautiful night ride.)
I’ve been telling my riding partner, Osa, how nice it is to ride the Lake Okeechobee Scenic Trail (LOST) for months, but weather and schedules have kept us from going out until this weekend. Sunday night was supposed to be a Full Moon, so I thought it would be a perfect introduction for her.
Rain made it look iffy
Rain chances were put at 40%, but some pretty heavy boomers were popping up around the lake, then moving on. We decided to risk it. We got on the road about 5:45 p.m. intending to go where my Droid Incredible radar showed the least weather. All things being equal, we were going to start so we’d have a headwind out and a tailwind for the return.
The first thing that went wrong was that my normal route was under construction. A detour took us about 10 miles out of our way. That wasn’t so bad, though, because Osa hadn’t had a chance to see much of the Glades farming area. She was disappointed when we saw only one alligator in a canal that I said, frequently, had a couple of dozen.
Nubbins Slough looked rain-free
We opted to put in at Nubbins Slough, on the northeast corner of the lake. The winds were out of the southeast at 8-12 mph, and our route was mostly headed southeast to south.
We didn’t spot any gators at the Slough, normally a hot spot, but these birds were kind enough to pose for us.
Osa fitted with a bug screen
I’m working on a review of the GBNpro Bug Screen. Bob Prusinski was kind enough to send me three to try, so I fitted one to my helmet before I left home and gave Osa one to attach to her helmet on the way out. The contraption is held onto the helmet with a strip of Velcro tape.
I’ll have a full review after I’ve had a chance to see if a couple problems we ran into were because we use helmet-mounted mirrors. After getting her picture taken, Osa took hers off. I, too, decided to hold off mounting mine until it got closer to Bug o’Clock.
Blue skies above us
As you can see, we had blue skies above us when we started off on our ride. Osa has a thing about clouds, so she stopped frequently to take photos of the ever-changing skyscape above us.
That is NOT a Clif Shot bloc
During one of those stops, I took the opportunity to reach into my pocket for a Clif Shot Bloks (Strawberry, not that it makes any difference). I like them because I can tuck them in my cheek and suck on them as I’m riding along. It gives me a steady inflow of energy and encourages me to drink more frequently.
Anyway, I bit down into the first bloc. They’re about the consistency of soft candy Gummy Worms. On the second chomp, I bit down on something hard. Something that was definitely NOT soft Gummy Worm consistency. I had a sinking suspicion that I knew what it was. Yep, I had pulled a dental crown right out.
Fortunately, I hadn’t bitten down hard and I hadn’t swallowed it. I took a tentative sip of water to wash my mouth out. WHOAAAAA! We’re not gonna do THAT again. Even sucking in hot summer air let me know that something was exposed that didn’t want to be exposed.
Remember those rain clouds off in the distance?
It looked like we were going to go in the blank space between the two rain showers. It LOOKED like that right up until the point that the sky opened up. Osa pulled on a jacket and slipped her phone and some other stuff in a Ziploc bag.
I put my Droid Incredible, Sandisk Sansa Clip MP3 player and i-Ride Pro speakers into a Ziploc bag and put them in my jersey pocket (more about that later). I put the rain covers over my Arkel small handlebar bag and Tailrider Trunk bag and debated pulling on my Campmor Rain Cape, but decided it wasn’t going to rain that long. Plus, it was hot enough I wasn’t afraid of getting chilled.
Sure enough, we rode out of the rain in a couple of miles, just in time to get some photos of the moon rise. The frame at the top is a little unsharp because it’s a still shot taken out of a video. My Canon FS100 Camcorder has a longer effective lens than my Nikon D40.
Dusk means bugs
Shortly after we got moving again, I told Osa that I was going to put on my Bug Screen because it was getting to be “that time.” She elected to wait a bit longer. I thought that was a mistake, because I was already seeing small bugs bouncing off the screen and seeing them stuck in the sweat on my arms.
She started complaining that she could feel bugs crawling around inside her helmet, so I offered a bandanna to put over her hair. We stopped to find it, and immediately became a feast for mosquitoes that covered every part of us, clothed and unclothed. Osa went into a whirling dervish swatting frenzy, then hopped on her bike vowing to pedal until she dropped, hopefully dead, if she couldn’t outrun the bloodsuckers.
I photographed Mathilde doing the Frog Dance on one Full Moon Ride. Osa put her to shame.
When we got to our turnaround point, Osa didn’t even slow down; she just put it in whip-around and kept going. Fortunately, by the time we got back to the car to load up, the bugs were gone. Either the bug window had closed or we had satiated every mosquito around the northeast corner of the lake.
Health and welfare check
When we got into the car, I took the Ziploc package of electronics out of my jersey pocket (more about that later) and called Wife Lila to let her know we were off the LOST and headed home, even if a couple of quarts low and uncrowned.
I commented to Osa that my gas tank was a little low, but I was “pretty sure” I had enough to get us to a station. She remembered the mosquitoes and didn’t like the sound of that. She became even more concerned when the Low Fuel light flashed on. (That means I can go about another hundred miles, and we only had about 50 to go, but I didn’t share that with her.)
There’s a gas station in Indiantown
We pulled into the last gas station in Indiantown. The pumps say to pay inside, so I walked into what looked like a combination gas station, produce stand and night club and gave the clerk my credit card.
While I was pumping my gas, a guy came out of the shadows with a cell phone in his hand and asked if I had a buck. “I’m paying for the gas with a credit card as it is,” I told him, not literally being untruthful. He wandered back to stand in the shadows with another guy, waiting for someone who wanted good Karma (more about that later).
Maybe I should have given the panhandler the buck
We made it home uneventfully. Osa even said she had fun and was ready to go back again. With a stronger bug spray this time, though. When I carried everything in, I couldn’t find my MP3 player and speaker, even when I looked in the nooks and crannies of the car. My guess is that the slick Ziploc bag slipped out of my jersey pocket either at Nubbins slough or at the gas station.
Maybe I should have given the panhandler a buck to fill up my Karma bucket. If I lost it at the gas station, I hope he enjoys my taste in music.
Matt, on his visit to St. Louis, was nice enough to give me a bike jersey that he and his A/B riders wear on occasion. It’s the “On Your Mark” jersey. The weather that I had been waiting for came this week and I pulled on the jersey and headed out for a ride.
That was Tuesday.
My brother is crazy
Tuesday was the day that we hit our high for the year, 98 degrees. The heat index was 102. I like to ride when it’s hot. I also like to sit in the car with the windows up when it’s hot and let the heat warm up my bones. Sorta like being a ham in an oven effect, nonetheless I like the heat to a no-pun-intended, “degree”.
I went to Forest Park and did my loops of the park and immediately noticed that I must be the only one who likes that kind of weather because there were no other riders at 3pm in the afternoon.
In fact, the park was empty of people except for some of the city kids who were sitting in the areas of the park that have waterfalls in them, and they were sitting in the water in the shade.
I admit that it was hot. With every 6 mile loop of my route I filled up a water bottle.
When traveling on a bike there is always some constant breeze (given you are going fast enough to generate one) and that became very evident each time when I stopped to fill up my water bottle. As soon as I unclipped my feet the rush of stifling heat surrounded me and the sweat would pour off me much like the waterfalls the kids had taken refuge in.
A “cool” hot T-shirt
But I like the heat. Back on my bike I began to feel the heat get the best of me around mile 28. I told myself that I would stop at mile 30 and call it a day OR when the bright sky started filling up with specks of darkness right before I blacked out. I was just rounding out my 30 mile mark when I looked over to see three other riders with me, it was Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. Apparently the Angel decided to sit out this fiery furnace ride.
The heat did not beat me to the point of blacking out and luckily I was close enough at mile 30 that I could coast to my car, load my bike up and sit in the car this time with the air conditioning on FULL blast. I have learned that a 102 heat index is my bar for NOT going out to ride.
Osa called at 5 P.M. and said, “How about a ride around 6:30? Sounded good to me, even if the hit index was in the mid-90s. The great thing about evening rides is that they only get cooler.
The LHT had the right stuff for the hills, but I didn’t. It usually takes me a few hours to remember the rhythm for going up and down and when to shift.
The Palm Beach sky turned pastel
Osa likes to ride along the beach, even if there’s a headwind. Last night’s wind came across at a slight angle and felt more like a cooling breeze than an impediment to progress.
The setting sun turned the clouds and sky into a range of pastel shades. I stopped for a few minutes to marvel at the variety of shipping moving across the horizon. Everything from a small sailboat to work boats, a tug and a freighter were represented.
Dusk in Palm Beach
Just before dark-thirty, I paused long enough to capture the last gasp of sunlight bouncing off the clouds.
I’ve been watching the Tour de France, which inspired me to attack Osa on some of the nose-bleed 20-foot elevation changes we encountered. As I blew past her, I had to remember that it’s a race only if the other person knows it too.
When we got back to the shed, I had the feeling that my LHT had forgiven me for embarrassing it in the hills of Missouri.
I’m back in Cape Girardeau, where the weather was too nice not to get on my Surly Long Haul Trucker for a short jaunt. I almost always end up at the riverfront so I can see who is hanging out watching the Mississippi River roll by.
Cape is built in rolling hills east of the Missouri Ozarks. On my way home, I had gone up several steep hills (for a flatland Floridian) and thought I’d take a shortcut through Southeast Missouri University that I thought would save me a long climb.
My Surly Long Haul Trucker seemed a little hard to pull out of it’s airconditioned shed. I could almost hear it shrieking, “Not the hills again, not the hills!” 
