Day 50(Starke to St. Augustine, FL)–64 miles

Every journey has an end.
—Seneca(4 BC-65AD)

We are arrived. We are finished. The journey is complete. My thoughts and words seemed clear as I rode this morning; now I find nothing.
The ride was miraculously uneventful; I had visions of one disaster after another today.
We leave early. Joe is concerned that I do not know the first turn, that I do not know where we are going…
In ten miles we pass Camp Blanding; at 20 miles we pass Penney Farms, which has a surprising history.
“In 1926, department store pioneer J. C. Penney founded the community of Penney Farms. He planned to develop an experimental farming village. The State of Florida incorporated the town in 1927. The real estate decline and stock market crash, however, caused Penney to scale back his ambitions to a community for retired ministers in honor of his minister father. Today, the Penney Retirement Community is a 192-acre (0.78 km2) home to Christian laypeople as well as clergy and missionaries.”
At 30 miles we pass through Green Cove Springs and approach our challenge of the day– the Shands Bridge. It is a relic from a bygone era, built in 1963, 34 feet wide and 6,662 feet long. There were plans to replace it in 2004, however….
At 57 miles we are in St. Augustine visiting the Fountain of Youth; I hope the pictures suffice; the $10.00 admission fee would age me, not rejuvenate me.
Next stop, Mission of Nombre de Dios, where the first Catholic mass in the New World was celebrated.
Life, however, is not complete without a visit to a National Park; thus we add the Castillo de San Marcos National Monument to our itinerary. Joe has a lifetime pass; we get in for free. Begun in 1672, it is the oldest masonry fort and the best preserved example of a Spanish colonial fortification in the United States. The Castillo took nearly 25 years to complete, using something called coquina, a composite of tiny shells, stuck together by time and lime. It is extremely resilient; the original walls remain intact.
I had never heard of St. Augustine; how could I have missed this portion of history?
St. Augustine was founded in 1565 by Spanish explorer and admiral Pedro Menéndez de Avilés; it is the oldest continuously occupied European-established city and port in the continental United States.
In 1565, five ships under the command of Pedro Menendez de Aviles, arrived at what is now St. Augustine. For perspective, colonists wouldn’t reach Jamestown for another 42 years and the Pilgrims wouldn’t touch Plymouth Rock for more than a half century!
I remember the Pilgrims; St. Augustine was never mentioned.
We pass the historic lighthouse; Joe’s son has flown out from Chicago to congratulate us on a job well done. He meets us at the hotel on the beach. Life is complete.
What will the next adventure be?
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Day 39(Friday, May 27):Denham Springs to Mandeville,LA-75 miles of riding….

On the road again, (cue several bars of the familiar country melody), just can’t wait to get on the road again….thanks to Willie Nelson….
Early morning and Joe, like a homing pigeon turns south from the motel. However, 190, the mutually chosen route, is north. Thus begins Day 39. Joe stops after a few minutes: “Where is 190? We have already gone one mile.” At the next block we see signs and turn onto 190; it is busy with oncoming morning rush hour traffic; the road surface, luckily, is new with a serviceable, though narrow shoulder. Joe does not like it: “How much longer on this road?”, is his refrain at every stop. 25, 17, 15 miles; then the road worsens- no shoulder and even I am annoyed by all the overloaded logging trucks. We alter our path to Route 22; hopefully matters will improve. We pass through Holden on this deviation and see an overflow of cars at a gas station; let’s go in and see what’s up. I find Joe inside, to the left of the main entrance, in a room full of tables,which in turn are full of men. “Joe, it looks like you found yourself a good ol’ boys club. Do any of you guys work?” There are guffaws all around and they start reeling off one Boudreaux joke after another just like the trooper told us about yesterday. Then the preachers get in a few Catholic-Baptist-Pentecostal jokes, the religion of the protagonist changing depending on who does the telling. It was great. Real live Coonasses in their natural environment. Unbelievable! Seriously, they were great and wished us safe journeys; the preacher even gave us an extra blessing as he rolled by beside us in his car. Thank you all!
We arrive at our destination in a timely manner despite an unfortunate delay and a 10 mile total detour due to us both missing seeing a sign. Joe was far in the lead, nonetheless he feels the responsibility is mine….So be it. It’s our first navigational error in 2,000 miles, so in reality not a big problem–and we got to see another great bridge!
We are now in Mandeville, on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. The town was established in 1834 by “New Orleans-born Frenchman”(???) developer Bernard Phillipe Xavier de Marigny de Mandiville on former agricultural lands. By the mid 1800’s Mandeville became known as a “popular summer destination for well to do New Orleanians wishing to escape the summer heat.” Daily steamboat traffic began between Mandeville and New Orleans in the early 1900’s; the town then became a popular weekend destination for the Victorian middle class as well.
Bands played music as the ships crossed the lake and at the pavilions in town; Mandeville thus became one of the first towns outside of New Orleans where the “new jazz” was heard. Two of those original buildings still exist-Ruby’s Roadhouse, in continual operation since the 1920’s, and the Dew Drop Social and Benevolent Hall, opened again in 2000 as the Dew Drop Jazz and Social Hall.
The town was in the Relocate America Top 100 places to live for five years in a row from 2005 on.
We have just returned from
a walking expedition of the town; it is one oak tree festooned with Spanish moss after the next, the quintessential vision of Louisiana. I may not leave. We checked out our dinner locale for tonight; a former boss of Joe’s from the City of Chicago, David Williams, is driving, with his wife Marsha, up from New Orleans to join us. (Today’s photo op features Joe flanked by David and Marsha). The restaurant, Juniper, is housed in a 100 year old structure, formerly a bakery, and features Creole cuisine. Yes!
Tonight we sleep in a 150 year old house, now a B&B, the C’est Chez Nous, three houses from the lake shore. Is this the vacation part of our trip Joe?
On our walk we met numerous people; Joe feels he brightened all their lives. The individual I will remember the most: Lilly, proprietor of Bano’s Food Store since 1945.
On another note,I’ve figured out why all the loose Louisiana dogs: it gives them a fighting chance against the gators! Thus far I must report no live gators, snakes or other things that go thump in the night. Thank Goodness !
In reality, dogs are a minor disturbance here. Hopefully, I haven’t jinxed us with that statement.
We are thoroughly enjoying Louisiana. Too bad it isn’t as large as Texas; we already move on to another state tomorrow. Yes, I know, this adventure seems to have picked up some momentum after we left the dry grasslands of Texas. Onward and upward. Ready or not here we come!

Day 27(Sunday, May 15):Uvalde to Hondo, TX –44 miles

Greetings from Deep in the Heart of Texas…The land of Billy Bob, Big Trucks and Bar-B-Qs….
We are on the road once again in the dim light of predawn.  We see a police car and a border patrol, both parked on the side of the highway, seeing which scurrilous characters, including but not limited to transient bicyclists such as ourselves, try to slink out of town in the semidarkness.
We head directly east into the rising sun; the winds, too, come from the east. We stop. This does not feel like a 7mph headwind. It is not: the iPhone tells us the wind is 12mph; next stop the winds increase  to 15–always in our faces, always from the east.
Of the 4H quartet(heat,hills, humidity and headwinds), Joe most  dislikes the headwinds. Soon we will add a fifth H: Humanity.  I am not thrilled with the headwinds; however, the temperature at 67 is perfect for me, with little or no humidity. I feel alive and not in danger of wilting for the first time in days.  I ride in my sleeveless biking jersey; Joe keeps his coat on all day long. This is our coldest day of the trip!
We decide to stop in Hondo for the night and hope for better odds in the morning. We eat at the Hondo Cafe and are treated like celebrities.
People have seen us riding; they all want to know where we are from and where we are bound. One older gentleman grabs Joe’s leg and comments on how phenomenal his muscles are.

In another vein,  have you been following the news about the Morganza Spillway along the Mississippi River?  The Army Corps of Engineers opened it yesterday for the first time in 38 years in order to avert catastrophic flooding downriver in Baton Rouge and New Orleans.  In a week or so the ACA Route takes us from Morganza to Baton Rouge via St.Francisville. Joe’s son found out the ferry there is closed; however, somehow authorities are helping bicycles across. We now have a contact to find out the latest news each day. It will be interesting to watch the events of the next week unfold.  Ol’ Man Mississippi just keeps rolling along.
On a more humorous note, our venue of last night, Uvalde County, is dry.  However, one can obtain alcohol by purchasing a permit.  I am now the proud owner of the three day  Texas Uvalde County Alcohol Imbibition Permit #4229262  bought for the grand price of $3.00 USD.  Actually they call me a “temporary member “.    My extremely  generous glass of Chardonnay cost $2.00(such a great deal, I had two glasses!). Our kind server was Kelly, a three year transplant from downtown Chicago.  She misses Chicago dearly and Joe, in turn, commiserates with her.   Joe, in typical Libertarian Mode, rebels against the system, and refuses to participate and get himself a card.   C’est la vie. His loss,my gain.   I look on the card as yet another sociological experiment and yet one more  item to add to the daily description….
For every story we transcribe for you, dear readers, there are at least ten others left untold….

We have looked, but have not seen any Catholic churches in the vicinity; instead we say a private prayer on this Sunday giving thanks for another safe day.