Bicycle Ride around
Monday, October 24, 2005
was a bad day for
It was the eighth major
hurricane to hit
Our Citrix offices in
Thursday, October
27, 2005
I
leave home early around 6:30am while it’s still dark outside. Long lines form
in front of gas stations as people desperately need gas. Due to refilling just
prior to getting hit I still have fuel for more than 300 miles. I drive West to
It’s
7:50am when I take off. I ride through some poor neighborhoods, which look even
more gloomy due to the garbage and storm debris laying around everywhere.
People line up for water and ice next to official buildings like fire-stations.
With my high-tech bike and yellow bike jersey I stand out in stark contrast to
the gloom and doom picture surrounding me.
I
ride towards the lake to get to the nearest trail head. When I first reach the
levee, a scene of devastation greets me: Piles of debris, smashed boats,
twisted metal signs, broken floats, and masses of sawgrass are piled up
half-way on the levee marking the
This
sets a strange tone for the day, as I will face many more examples of the
awesome, destructive power of hurricane Wilma throughout this ride. As the sun
comes out the picture brightens a bit.
The
trail is indeed well paved, closed for motorized traffic and provides really
nice views in both directions: Towards the lake there is usually some march
with sawgrass and plenty of birds and the occasional aligator. On the other
side of the levee there is often a boat canal and some homes, or otherwise
farmland with mostly sugarcane (also wind-damaged).
Endless
straight sections of road. I am excited about the view, as you ride about 25-30
ft (10m) above the lake and the surrounding land. At the same time my
enthusiasm is dampened because I face a noticable head-wind blowing out of the
North. Not able to check the weather at home I was hoping for a similar calm
day like yesterday, but unfortunately the wind is blowing at about 10 mph (15
km/h). At the top of the levee you are fully exposed to the wind and riding
into this wind for many hours is not fun! So I start relatively slowly and
remind myself to be patient…
At
nearly every stop there are signs of destruction, like in the above picture of
a public playground / rest stop. The large trees at the right were no match to
the powers of winds in excess of 100mph.
Every
now and then there is a gate to negotiate, which keeps vehicles out but lets
bicycles pass.
After
passing Pahokee with its airport (known for skydiving operations) right next to
the levee I reach Canal Point. Here the scenes of destruction are perhaps the
most impressive: Vacation homes built along the lake shores are ripped off
their foundations, rolled up the levee and smashed to pieces. At one spot I
actually have to carry my bike over the remains of such a home strewn across
the path.
You
would not want to ride out a major hurricane in any of those structures! It is
just unbelievable which force the power of nature can unleash. The homes lay
scattered around like toys carelessly tossed aside.
The
paved section ends here in Canal Point which forces me back down to the main
road. More scenes of destruction: Downed cables, snapped poles, torn roofs,
broken glass and trees. It will take a while before life comes back to normal
in these communities.
One
ugly memory of my solo ride many years past are the lose dogs in this area.
Unfortunately I don’t have a dog spray which I would heavily recommend for any
bike rider here. The properties are mostly unfenced and many dogs are roaming
free. There is something about bicycles which irritates dogs more than cars or
motorcycles. Many dogs just fall back to their hunting instincts and come
charging at you, barking loudly and aggressively. It is hard to outrun a
charging dog - unless you have a tailwind or ride downhill J none of which I have today. From prior encounters
I learned that the best reaction is often to stop, get off the bike and use the
bicycle as protective shield between yourself and the dog(s). After some brief
barking and confused sniffing at the bike out on the road the dogs usually
return back to their lot which they protect as their own territory. This
happens to me three times - annoying but not really a big deal.
The
next stop is on top of the big bridge at Port Mayaca. Here the St. Lucie Canal
from the Atlantic Ocean connects with
Many
years ago I rode a 120 miles (200 km/h) loop starting at home in Wellington in
the pre-dawn hours, getting to this very point around sunrise, continuing to
the East all the way to the Atlantic Ocean at Jupiter Island, then returning
back South along the beaches of Juno Beach and North Palm Beach. Looking North
provides a good view of the
More
riding into the wind, too bad I did’t start from the North going the opposite
direction! Well, at least I should have some tailwind somewhere on this loop…
Despite the nice views it is getting quite monotonous to battle the headwinds
for hours! My average speed is really low, less than 15 mph (24 km/h) – a far
cry from the downwind hammering up in
At
one point the oversized tires of a parked tractor with blown out windows next
to the trail makes for a tripod replacement to hold the camera for one of my
traditional self-timed pictures. I also meet an old lady at one of the flood
gates which serve as a lock to allow boats to pass between the canal behind the
levee and the
By
now I have been riding for almost 3 hours into this headwind, more than 40
miles (70 km) and I’m really getting tired of it, both figuratively as well as
physically. I can’t wait to get to the Northern most point of the Lake near the
Imagine
this part of the roof taking off, getting hurled through the air across the
canal and crashing into the levee, leaving only twisted metal and debris in its
path! One of the obvious reasons you don’t want to be out in the open while a
hurricance passes! Turning around from this spot the downwind side is littered
with other pieces of metal - there is a lot of cleanup work all over the place.
Shortly
thereafter I turn off the trail to get some gatorade and trail mix (no pun
intended) and cookies as snacks for lunch. I stuff two additional bottles with
water and gatorade in my backpack as I don’t know what gas stations will be
open on the sparsely populated west side of the
I
ride back up to the levee and stop at a scenic spot for lunch.
It
is a quiet and serene place, with only the occasional bird chirp breaking the
silence. I apply more sunscreen prior to continuing for the next leg of the
trip. Even though I have been riding for almost 4 hrs I only covered about 55
miles (90 km) and feel quite tired already. It really depends on the external
conditions. Riding 100 km into the wind seems about as tiring as riding 200 km
downwind. At least I have turned the corner and start riding South-West now
instead of North into the wind.
The
next 30 miles are hard, lonely, and monotonous. I feel tired. The wind is
mostly from the side, hardly a good tailwind. No villages, just long roads with
occasional cattle farms along the sides. The trail on the levee is not paved
here, so it is not an option for me with the road-bike. I stop at the first gas
station in a while, but it is closed. So I just sit in the shade and drink one
of my water bottles to lighten my backpack.
Another
45 minutes later I arrive at a gas station which just got electric power back
that same day, so they start selling non-perishable food and throwing away the
contents of their refridgerators.
Memories
from the organized ride 8 years ago come back. That time I was riding in a pack
of initially about 40 riders, and we were all going at great speeds. In fact,
we finished the entire loop in only 5 ½ hrs at racing speed without any stops,
one of the toughest rides I had ever done. Today it will take me 9 ½ hrs to
close the loop, with more than 7 ½ hrs of actual ride time at average speeds of
16 mph (26 km/h).
Eventually
I reach the South-West corner of the
After
this refreshing break I have to cross the second large bridge, this time over
the
Rolling
down this bridge with tailwind is the only time today that I am going faster
than 24 mph (38 km/h), which was my average speed for nearly 20 hrs during the
700km ride last fall from
The
afternoon sun is getting lower and creates a wonderful yellow light. Again,
looong stretches of trail out ahead.
I
have completed more than ¾ of the loop; even though I am tired now I enjoy
these last stretches as I still have plenty of daylight and can rest whenever I
please. At one of those rest stops I finish my last snack (a Powerbar) and
watch a bald eagle sitting across on a high branch above the water.
There
are plenty of bird species to be observed on a day like this, perhaps two dozen
or more. I guess this stretch of the trail would make for a nice short trip as
well, as the full loop certainly requires the commitment of an entire day. The
long straight stretches remind me a bit of the rides in the upper midwest.
I’m
also reminded of some flights with the hangglider which I had done in this area
in the first years after relocating the
I
get off the trail to connect with Highway 27 near
I
am tired but happy with the ride. It was more strenuous than I thought due to
the headwind up on the levee, but also much more scenic than the last two times
I had done it. After 9 ½ hrs on the road I can feel the intense sun on the skin
of my face, arms and legs, despite the repeated application of sunscreen. It
feels good to just sit and drive home. After about an hour of driving through
the sugarcane fields between
