By all accounts, it appears to be a full fledged version of the 'perfect storm' movie. The normally tranquil ocean is choppy as far as the eye can see. The horizon is full of ominous dark clouds, which are producing one of the most magnificent electrical storms I've seen in 2 decades, mostly due to the deceiving line of sight.
Mother nature would be beautiful on the first week of spring, if i wasn't on a motorcycle surrounded on all sides by water traveling the last 100 miles on the Overseas Highway. There was no turning off and no safe haven as the wind gained momentum faster than a dog on a bacon crumb. As with all tropical storms, the rain drops were not drop-sized at all. I think I could have solved all of Californian's drought by collecting just a handful of these rain drops.
With traffic on all sides of us on this two lane bridge, there was nothing to do but push forward. Every Key is named something whimsical. As we exit what seemed to be really be endless bridge to nowhere, we are now 'safely' on Rufuge Key. However, this must be some sort of literary term, because 2 lonely bikers in a squall find nothing. No pull off, no overhangs. Just nothing. At this point, I don't think I can see but 50ft. The gusts of wind combined with the pond of water sheeting off the road has made piloting the bike sporting. And then the helmet comms go dead, as we are now on hour 14 of the ride for the day. As soon as we exit the bridge, the next key is We ran into this Tee the next day, and boy did it ring true!
Mother nature would be beautiful on the first week of spring, if i wasn't on a motorcycle surrounded on all sides by water traveling the last 100 miles on the Overseas Highway. There was no turning off and no safe haven as the wind gained momentum faster than a dog on a bacon crumb. As with all tropical storms, the rain drops were not drop-sized at all. I think I could have solved all of Californian's drought by collecting just a handful of these rain drops.
With traffic on all sides of us on this two lane bridge, there was nothing to do but push forward. Every Key is named something whimsical. As we exit what seemed to be really be endless bridge to nowhere, we are now 'safely' on Rufuge Key. However, this must be some sort of literary term, because 2 lonely bikers in a squall find nothing. No pull off, no overhangs. Just nothing. At this point, I don't think I can see but 50ft. The gusts of wind combined with the pond of water sheeting off the road has made piloting the bike sporting. And then the helmet comms go dead, as we are now on hour 14 of the ride for the day. As soon as we exit the bridge, the next key is We ran into this Tee the next day, and boy did it ring true!
No matter how impossible the ride seemed at that moment, it still wont compare to the night in Ecuador trying to descend off a mountain, using nothing other than a single (mighty?) DR200SE headlight for two bikes. In Ecuador, a decent marking for a construction zone has only 20ft of 'tape used to mark crime scenes in the US. Instead, this 3" wide plastic tape says "Peligro". It marks a 20ft deep ditch. Not a starlight nor streetlamp...or and cars for that matter. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.
Bruce and i found an old watering trough, The Fish House Key, from our scuba diving days. yep, still scrumptious today. About 2 miles on the northbound side of RT 1 after Amy Slates Dive Resort. The shrimp were the size of small lobsters!
Bruce and i found an old watering trough, The Fish House Key, from our scuba diving days. yep, still scrumptious today. About 2 miles on the northbound side of RT 1 after Amy Slates Dive Resort. The shrimp were the size of small lobsters!
It's been a rough few hours starting after dinner. Bruce who was in the middle of a long train of traffic, nearly hits a 3ft long iguana. Apparently it was giving chase on me, but not before playing roulette with Bruce as it retreated into the scrubby bush. It certainly took us longer to cover the last 60 miles than one would have hoped. But, the previous 13 hours had little (iguana and poor lane change) excitement. All in all nearly 900 miles, of which it seems to be all in state of Flatisan. Many years of jousting with the left lane drivers of Maryland has prepared us we'll to leap frog the grey-hairs. In fact there were cars we traveled with for hours that started trailing our right-center-right lane pattern. Perhaps the most concerning driving was the fact they can't even navigate a slight overpass incline without losing at least 1/3 of the posted speed.
We decided the highest point in Florida was certainly the mountains of household waste. As the thermometer neared 85F in Miami, I was both relieved to be freed of my winter shackles, but also petrified that I might melt.
We decided the highest point in Florida was certainly the mountains of household waste. As the thermometer neared 85F in Miami, I was both relieved to be freed of my winter shackles, but also petrified that I might melt.