Today was one of the most enjoyable rides of the whole trip. I felt in great shape, despite all of these early starts, which certainly helped, but I think it’s mainly because I’ve now resolved most of the issues about how, when and where this bike trip will conclude – and last night I even booked my ticket for the flight home!

• Today’s Distance (miles): 54
• Time in saddle: 4h 16
• Max/min temp (°c): 34°/21°
• Climbing (feet) : 394
• Calories used: 2,923
• Today’s 2nd Breakfast: Cream cheese cinnamon and raisin bagel and coffee, Cravings at Vero Beach
• ‘Cafe’ time: 0h 40 First ‘proper’ cafe stop in ages – so nice!

ANOTHER SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT COMING TOMORROW!: I have something special I want to do tomorrow, but I’m still trying to sort it out to see if it’s even possible, so will tell you all the plan tomorrow in the blog. It may not work out, but I’m going to try!

BACK TO THE CYCLING: Another endorphin-releasing factor was that I finally got away from Highway 1, which is very direct but very boring, and had a superb time exploring the A1A through Melbourne Beach, Malabar, Melbourne Shores, India River Shores, community after community of well-heeled homes, which were gradually waking up as I passed through, moving from darkness into beautiful daylight. The ride began with the stars out, looking spectacular in the clear sky. I looked up as I cycled and had that strange, dizzying feeling of not moving except for the turning of my pedals.

Once the sun was up I saw several sweet family groups on their driveways, mom, dad, kids, dogs, all waiting together for the school bus to arrive. When I passed the first yellow bus of the day I waved and got a tremendous wave back from all of the kids and the driver – I shouted out ‘Summer’s not over yet!’, but I don’t think they heard. I probably just looked like a ranting nutter on a bike.

On that subject, if anyone has been wondering or even worrying about what it’s like to ride in the dark on a bike, I took a photo at a beach-stop this morning because I noticed how bright my reflectors were in just the light from my head torch. With a car’s headlights they’re even brighter. This is what drivers see on the road:

FOTB Luke Abbott has been particularly enjoying the dawn photography, and I was delighted to be right by the ocean again this morning at about 6.30am, to get another picture.

I’m delighted to say that I’ve finally got a bit of film for you of an armadillo. I’ve been seeing them from time to time, but they move surprisingly fast and are quite shy, so I hadn’t managed to catch one on camera until this morning. I very nearly lost this chance too, because when I first saw it, it was heading straight into the road. A massive flatbed van was roaring past at the same time, and I thought ‘Oh no – this is going to be messy’, but the truck pulled out slightly, passing straight over the top of the armadillo, which totally freaked out for a moment, which is understandable. I think I would have reacted the same way. It sort of jumped up, but somehow avoided any impact, then twisted right round and scuttled back to the safety of the grass verge and the hedge, which was the bit I filmed:

I decided that today was the day for a proper ‘mid-ride’ coffee. I’ve got a bit fed up with waiting until the end, and Vero Beach was a lovely looking town. The residents that I encountered, however, didn’t really endear themselves to me. Every time I said ‘hello’ or ‘good morning’ I was either blanked or got a grudging response. Then I stopped on the boardwalk to take this rubbish photo of a cute bunny rabbit…

…when a very typical older resident walked past me, wearing a classic combo of golf shirt tucked tightly over his large belly and into a shiny black leather belt and cream linen shorts, with socks pulled up high and tan loafers. He gave me such a filthy look and said in the grumpiest, sneeriest voice he could muster, ‘Huh! Great to place to park a bike!’. I nearly didn’t say anything, but felt so annoyed at him trying to spoil my nice time so I called out to him, in the most polite British voice I could muster, ‘Oh, you were being sarcastic – I see! Sarcastic and rude. Have a nice day!’ There is a certain type of person who believes the world should be arranged to suit their own needs at all times, and if it ever isn’t, they quickly become really quite unpleasant. I bet if I started chatting to this man in a coffee queue, he would be civil and friendly. But change the circumstances, and you find that another side lurks beneath all of that, the side that believes it is ‘entitled’. The ECO music cruises in the Mediterranean each September often involved people like this. We used to call it ‘Trouble In Paradise’, because no matter how fabulous the location (The Oracle at Delphi?) or concert (Gideon Kramer or Emanuel Axe?) or meal (6 courses, different wine with each?), they’d still find something they didn’t feel suited them about it, and ask (or demand) for it to be changed. This clip from the film Triangle of Sadness sums it all up much better than I can, and will feel familiar for anyone who’s experienced moments like these:

The cafe stop at ‘Cravings’ was great, and for once it was sunny but not too hot to sit outside – the rain last night combined with the partially overcast sky just took the edge off the heat. Inside I ordered my 2nd breakfast and noticed that down here on the A1A the cafes don’t provide copies of the local advertiser for their customers, they provide complimentary copies of the Wall St Journal. As I sipped my coffee at an outside table I eavesdropped on the locals talking. I heard a long discussion between two older men in versions of the outfit described above, talking about whether buying or selling gold or silver was a good or bad idea – I didn’t care either way and lost interest so can’t pass on any of their wisdom. Soz.

I was actually quite sad when the ride through the ‘outer bank’ came to an end and I had to turn inland over a road bridge to reach my motel.

In Fort Pierce I had another enforced stop at a Wendy’s because I knew my room wouldn’t be ready yet. There I was shocked, shocked, to find that they had replaced the nice, normal padded booth seats with a wooden slatted bench that made my backside less than happy. I demanded, demanded that this issue be dealt with and addressed immediately, and was absolutely incensed to find that nobody in the entire restaurant gave a monkeys. I told them, I said ‘Mark my words, you have not heard the end of this, I shall be taking this to a higher authority.’ They said ‘In that case, sir, we apologise – and we will change all of the benches for you at the very first opportunity’. Hah!That showed them.

I came down a hill (a hill!) into the bit of Fort Pierce where my motel is, and saw a mural being painted under the shade of a tree. I thought of the two girls I met doing the same thing back in Boston, and stopped to ask about it. I met Zoey (click for her own artist’s website) who explained that the town was funding several nature-themed murals, and that she was working on two at this site whilst a friend was working on a very large one further down the same street, which was nearly finished. Zoey’s were both peacocks, and I told her about the cruel and clever reputation the bird has in my world. She said that they were the town mascots, which was just like the town of Souris, Manitoba, where this peacock-trouble all began. I’ll be leaving too early in the morning to be tortured by them for a second time though. Maybe I’ll go and wake them up, see how they like it?

As I waited to pay for my lunch/supper/breakfast shopping at the Save-A-Lot supermarket checkout, the Aretha Franklin song Respect came on, and the woman at the till, who was wearing a cool pair of gem-studded sunglasses, started singing along at the top of her voice, and she could really sing. She began dancing on the spot and swaying her head around as she rang up my items, and so I joined in singing as well just for the hell of it. ‘You’re in a good mood’, I said. ‘Well I’ve been cryin’ all week!’, she said, ‘but I’m okay now.’ I said that she certainly did sound okay now. ‘You know my problem, darlin’?’, she said. ‘I’m in love with worry. I’m in love with worry. It’s just no good.’ I said that I thought worry always seemed so real, but often wasn’t, and she said ‘Amen to that! Blessings to you, darlin’, have a good day!’ She was still singing as the next customer moved up to the till.

They told me at the last motel that the snorkeller wasn’t real. So how do you explain this at today’s motel then? I suppose you’re going to tell me he isn’t following me?

SNORKEL UPDATE:

MOVIE MOMENTS: Without fail, whenever I pass an empty Gas Station in the dark, I think of that scene in the film ‘Monsters’ – in fact I may have mentioned it before! If I did, it was years ago, so here’s another one:

SIGNS THAT GET YOU HUMMING: