Moving Forward

The entire ride is fund raiser for the Diabetes Research Institute and there are several of the riders who suffer themselves from this terrible disease. The trip has not even started and already they have collected over $20,000.

The name of the club that was formed for the sole purpose of putting this package together is - MichCanSka, and this inaugural ride is called "Michcansks 2010." You can learn more about the trip, the group and their goals on their web site at: http://michcanska.com.

It is my understanding that riders can "join in" on the ride for a short distance (for a small donation to help a great cause). Check out the route and become a part of the experience.

There are three teams of approximately 24 riders per team. Within each team, are six groups of four "sleds" each and one truck/trailer (as a chase vehicle) per each group.

Team one will leave out on Monday the 15th of February team two on Wednesday the 17th and team three on Friday the 19th.

The staggered departures are set up in order to assure that the (prearranged lodging) has adequate space and to avoid "bottlenecks" at the gas pumps and restaurants (not to mention the "John's).

The original plan was for three snowmobiles within each group of four to be on the trail on any given day; one snowmobile rider, in the group of four, was assigned (on every fourth day) to drive the chase vehicle.

All riders cover there own expenses (estimated to be about $4,500) and, quite understandably, many of the riders were opposed to giving up every fourth day to drive the

chase vehicle. Hence, several of the group teams have hired drivers to cover the driving for them (that's where I come in).

Tomorrow I will cover in more detail the actual route of travel (I need to correct some earlier - misinformation).

North to Alaska!

Just as soon as the announcement was made that Alaska trip would most likely not happen, I got the word that it would indeed happen. At least, that's what they are telling me.

A meeting is scheduled for Saturday to meet and further arrange the details, and that will likely clear up a lot of the fog surrounding the whole affair.

As I understand from the small amount of detail that I have, the route will start from Sault Sainte Marie in Michigan's Upper Peninsula and pass through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana and end in Idaho before turning north into Canada to connect to the Trans-Canadian Trail. From that point, my guess-to-mate is that Alaska, is probably some 1500 "rugged" miles of Canadian Rocky Mountain trails, in the distance

Part of my reasoning for wanting to take the trip is in order for me to be able buy some time before heading for the Baha. There are a few personal details that I am just not comfortable in leaving the state without more answers - answers that just take time to work out (the bureaucracy you know!)

In the meantime, you may have noticed some changes in the appearance of my blog site. The Google Adsence Ads are part of a first attempt to monetize the blog site.

It was my intent to make motorcycle parts, accessories and clothing as well as some travel related items available here; and it still is in the works, but thus far I haven't been able to get details inserted correctly. Bear with me and I'll - "Git'er done!"

Reconnoitering

It is now the 20th of January, more than a month has past since first returning from New Orleans to spend the Christmas holiday in Michigan. As you are aware, if you have been following my blog, the scheduled date to return to New Orleans (December 29th) has now passed.

Despite the setback, the plan to return to Louisiana and continue on route to Panama - remains intact.

How long, you ask, will the plan be delayed? At present I am striving for an early February departure; but, hesitate to announce a date until that date is indeed confirmed.

Recently, however, I offered to drive one of the "chase vehicles" for a 4000 mile Michigan to Alaska snowmobile run (in order to save a little money for my motorcycle trip.) Thus far no one has come forward to accept my offer, and I now think the chance of that happening is quite slim. Hence, the February date is still a fair estimate.

The Baja Peninsula extends for some 775 miles from Tijuana to Cabo San Lucas and passes through four deserts (meaning that it is - "mostly all desert.") From La Paz (nearby Cabo San Lucas) a ferry is available for transport across the Sea of Cortes from La Paz to Mazatlan at a cost (for a small car of about $175.)

Unfortunately, since you can cross freely from the United States into the Baja without a formal border check, before boarding the ferry you have to pass through customs and risk paying an exorbitant fee for that "luxury." Faced with the cost of taking the 1500 mile (300-500 dollars depending on food and lodging), it still may be the better choice.

As events unfold, I'll keep you posted.

Good Friends Last Forever

From Bernie and Carrie's house we went over to see Bernie's Mother and sister Carolyn. Mrs. Smith, though bed ridden, maintains all of her faculties, together with a witty sense of humor. With Bernie, Carrie and Carolyn's help, along with various day-care aids, she remains at home. Despite the tremendous burden that this places on the family, they wouldn't have any other way. As I've often heard Bernie say, "My Mom is not going to any

nursing home." Such is the strength of character of the entire family.

When we arrived at the house, there was sign on the door "Welcome Home Rex" (a nice touch, which was obviously Carolyn's work.)

We ate and drank in celebration of getting back together again. Bernie was my college roommate, for a period of time, while I was attending my Alma Mater, the University of California, Riverside, and Carolyn was a one time sweetheart - that somehow slipped away.

Nonetheless, we have all maintained contact over the years and have enjoyed sky trips to Aspen, Tahoe and even Mount Hood, as well as, one very memorable "Bareboat Sailing" trip to the

Caribbean.

Bernie is a local prosecuting attorney and took the time from his busy schedule to show me his

office at the courthouse and the new home he is building on the shore of Lake Pontchartrain. The new home is nearing completion and will replace the previous home lost in the devastation of hurricane Katrina. Built on the site of his previous loss, the home has a "million dollar view" overlooking Lake Pontchartrain and a stately porch that spans the entire length the home. Elevated some 14 feet of the ground as flood protection, it is definitely a Louisiana home.

Bernie and Carrie are storing my Harley for me, even though I had to warn them that these are uncertain times and my scheduled return might get "derailed." Bernie said, "No problem - I'll park in the back yard under the tree" (always the joker!) It was unfortunate that I was unable to enjoy as much time as I would have liked, but it was, nonetheless, great to see everyone once again. Many thanks for everything - to the Louisiana gang.

New Orleans at Last

Being that travel had been going so slowly, you would have thought that one would take advantage of the clear morning weather, but such was not the case. Somehow I managed to wile away the early morning hours as if the break in the weather was here to stay; but, it wasn't and I would very shortly regret my arrant ways.

It was about 375 miles from Ocala to Pensacola, and I hoped to make it there by nightfall. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other ideas, and after traveling about 70 miles a light rain started. Determined to "tough it out," I continued on, but after passing a jack-knifed semi-tractor trailer in the oncoming lanes of the divided highway and a second two-car collision, I pulled up underneath an overpass just in time to avoid the downpour.

After an hour it was still raining, but it had slowed down greatly, so I decided to make a break for the next town of Live Oak.

Live Oak was a short 102 miles out of Ocala, and there was still about 460 Miles to go to get to New Orleans (or Mandeville, Louisiana, a suburb that was my actual destination). It was raining hard again and (left with no choice) it was necessary to grabbed a room at one of Live Oak's "finest" motels.

By the next morning the rain had finally stopped, but now the issue was the cool morning air. It was unfortunate that weather had been (and still was) so unforgiving; much of the route, since leaving Naples had been "unkind" to say the least. Now, as I approached Tallahassee I couldn't help but regret that there was neither the time nor the favorable weather to allow me to explore Tallahassee, a city that I had never visited before. (Given a decent day, I would have greatly enjoyed the ride through the Lake Talquin State Forest, near Tallahassee.)

Choosing not to fight the cold and having not eaten breakfast, I exit the interstate for breakfast at the Waffle House.

Returning back on course, I was able to advance another 80 miles before the rain started and forced me to once again exit the highway.

Over the years I have traveled throughout and five of the six continents (my list of continents includes: North America, South America, Eurasia, Africa, Australia and Antarctica); and though often solo, I have never felt alone. There are always people to meet along the way and this, of course, provides some of my most engaging memories. Often it seems, at the time, as only simple conversation; but then, why do those conversations linger on in the memory?

Case in point, forced off the highway by the rain, I stopped at a McDonald's in Bonifay, Florida, to blog away some time while waiting for the rain to halt.

Bonifay is a small town and, even today, a stranger in a small town is a source of wonder; and I soon found myself engaged in conversation with one Wayne Carey, a local car dealer and sometimes realtor.

Wayne inquired as to my motorcycle travels and told me of a fellow "McDonald's regular" (another motorcycle rider) whom he wasn't able, despite his persistent efforts, to contact via cell phone.

Wayne tried to encourage me to "hang around" for the weekend to meet his friend and enjoy the peace and quiet of Bonifay. However, that wasn't going to happen, the rain had stopped, and I was already behind schedule. I thanked him for his congeniality and got back on the road.

Looking back, there still persist, lingering regrets that the conditions of weather prevented me from enjoying what I had anticipated would be great traveling - the gulf coast of Alabama and Mississippi - "C'est la vie", perhaps, another day.

At least the weather continued to show favor, but, nonetheless, I still managed to miss the transition from I-10 to I-12, and it was nearly 9 PM before I arrived at the home of my hosts' Bernard and Carrie Smith.

Slow Moving - Bad Weather

Naples to Port Richey, a little more than 180 miles - in TWO DAYS - what's wrong with this picture? It was after 4 PM before I had left Naples and so, in truth, it was little more than one day of travel; but still, at this rate it would be Monday before I even get to New Orleans - clearly not my game plan. Something needed to be done FAST.

The weather was getting colder and the forecast for the road ahead was calling for it to be both cold and wet!

My original plan had been to take the leisurely scenic route through the beach cities of Apalachicola, Panama City, Pensacola, Mobile Alabama and Gulf Port Mississippi.

Now, however, after driving north on US-19 and experiencing all the stop and go traffic, 35 mph speed limits and residential streets, I decided that there had to be better (i.e., faster) and more interesting route. With the inclement weather there just didn't seem to be much of a point - I just wanted to get there as fast as possible.

The thought of turning west and riding 25 miles back to catch I-75 didn't really appeal to me, but, at this point, it appeared to be the best option. Thus far, the weather had cooperated, but it didn't look like it would hold off much longer - and it didn't!

I was, however, able to make it to a gas station in Ocala before the real downpour hit, and to my good fortune there was a campground nearby.

By the most direct route the trip from Holiday to Ocala was barely over 100 miles, but my circuitous route it must have been closer to 160. Once again the rain had halted my effort to push forward. Perhaps, tomorrow would be a better day.

Naples to Port Richey

Still feeling a little shaken by the previous night's (actually - early morning) ordeal, I nonetheless, gathered things together and "hit the road."

With over 750 miles to go, no planned stops and ominous looking weather forecasts, I was eager to get started. It always seems like the closer you get to the end of the trip, the more hurried one gets. I was hoping to make it to New Orleans by Saturday night or mid-morning Sunday, and with good weather that should not have been a problem. Famous last words!

North of Port Charlotte the skies were clear and remained so across Tampa Bay and into St. Petersburg; but then things changed and in a matter of minutes I found myself in the midst of a driving rain. It was time to stop and get something eat anyway, but where were all the restaurants?

The rain had surprised me, and I hadn't put on my rain pants. Fortunately, it was cool enough that I had put my rain suit jacket on, but I was otherwise, pretty much soaked by the ordeal.

After finally finding a restaurant, in addition to eating, I was able to put on dry pants and the rest of my rain gear.

My intended plan was to take the coastal route along highway US-19, but, true to form, plans were "right on schedule" - it was already dark and I had yet to find a campground.

At a service in Port Richey I was advised that there was a campground, "...about 7 miles to the west just as you get into Holiday - right next to Bob Evans".

Often times, the people that live right in the area, are of little help when asking directions. The lady in Port Richey had given me excellent directions, but in spite of that, I still drove right by park and had to stop at another gas station and ask for assistance. The station attendant and a customer (a local resident) both had assured me that the closest campground "Was about 40 miles to the north."

Not at all convinced that they were correct (the lady in Port Richey had talked so authoritatively), I left feeling a little disgruntled and having already made the decision to head north and grab the first motel available.

Pulling back on the road and heading north, I rode less than a block before spotting the large sign advertising RV Park and Campground (right next to a Bob Evans Restaurant.) It was clearly visible and I don't know how I missed it; but, (in my defense) - a little ways off the road.

It was a nice park and very affordable (a pleasant change from Southern Florida). It was late and after a long day - it was time set up the tent and "hit the sack."

Men in Blue

With things to tend too, it was after 4: OO PM before I left Naples. With the late departure I was already having doubts about finding a campground before dark, but I knew it was time to get out of Naples. The $58 per night for a tent site with no electric was blowing my budget. After 30 days on the road things were getting tight.

Traveling on I-75, in an effort to north as far and as fast possible, I spied a sign for a State Park. To my disappointment the State Park, was a beach and not a campground at all. No camping permitted.

The park ranger advised me that there was another State Park just to the north where they had campsites. He called ahead to see if any campsites were available. Campsites were available, but the campground would close at sunset which was only 20 minutes away. The ranger (still on the phone) advised them that I was on a motorcycle and should be able to make it within the 20 minute time frame. He was wrong; and to my misfortune they didn't - "leave the lights on for me" - or the gate open either. I hadn't timed the trip, but it seemed like less than 20 minutes. No matter - the gate was, still CLOSED.

Sitting, despondently, in front of the gate, I thought back to when (in Pennsylvania) I had pitched my tent outside of a "roadhouse" restaurant and, more less, gotten away my pursuit without any difficulty.

Looking around, there was plenty of area where I could pitch my tent and probably, ...possibly, ...perhaps, ...maybe, not be noticed; but, where would I put the motorcycle? The ground was questionable soft, and even if it were not, I would be in real trouble if caught riding on the grass in the State Park (even I, thought that this would be worthy of punishment).

I returned the highway to consider my options.

While gassing up, I sighted a car wash separated from the gas station by a wide driveway. Investigating, it looked perfect. I could pitch my tent out of site behind the car wash, and park my motorcycle nearby (out of sight of most anyone). Wrong again!

About 3: 30 AM, while resting soundly, I was alerted by the sound voices and "flashlights'" approaching my tent.

"Is there anyone in there," asked one of my unwanted guests.

"Yes," I replied.

"Who's with you?"

"I'm alone"

"Come out here."

"I've got to get my pants on."

Brief pause, "Do you have any guns?"

"No," I replied.

"Hurry up."

I'm putting my pants on."

"Come on, you're not going to a prom"

Out side the tent now, they (four males and a female officer) continue, "Where are you from"

"I'm from Michigan," I replied,

"What are you doing down here?"

"I'm just traveling around the country and writing a blog as I go."

"Probably robbing banks," replied, "my nemesis", sarcastically.

"Sit down," ordered someone else.

Looking at the dew soaked ground, I hesitated.

"Sit down now!" he barked unkindly.

Sitting on the dew soaked grass, one of them felt my pockets and asked, "What's this?"

Not waiting for my reply, he shouted, "Do you have any knives?"

"I don't any weapons," I replied.

To which "my nemesis," obviously impressed with himself, interjected (a comment which he would repeat, to my utter contempt, several times) "he's just here robbing banks."

In the end, despite "my nemesis," urging, they must have determined that I was neither a bank robber nor "Jack-the-Ripper." After "my nemesis" offered one final admonishment, "just keep from robbing banks, and you'll be alright," they allowed me finish what was - a restless sleep at best.

I awoke later, thinking to myself, "They were just doing their job;" but, I hadn't really done anything to be ashamed of - so why was I feeling so ashamed? "If your going to act like a vagrant, you've got to be able to roll with the punches," I told myself.

However, "I am not a vagrant", and I'm not sure that I am up to the task.

All of the officers, save one, had treated me with respect; which, in my opinion, was our mutual responsibility (and was greatly appreciated from my perspective). "My nemesis," on the other hand (in my humble opinion), brings shame to uniform.

Naples by Way of Alligator Alley

My wandering ways from previous night had actually ended near the Calder Horserace Track in Miami Gardens. Being a horse fan (my reining horse is Royal Kandy Kid) I just had to have a closer look.

The track is beautiful, and I was fortunate to have some jockeys, in full regalia, working their horses on the tracks turf (my best guess is that they were doing some photo shoots for the press).

Alligator Alley beautiful though somewhat desolate highway as anyone whom has taken the roadway can attest. This is due in a large part to the fact that Alligator Alley is one of the few interstate highways that passes through a national park - Big Cypress National Preserve. Although the numbers of "Big" Cypress are not what one might expect, I was impressed to see large cypress trees clearly visible.

Future plans are underway to expand to expand the highway to eight or even ten lanes, so look for continued growth. Desolation may become a thing of the past, save for the protection of Big Cypress.

It was a sunny pleasant day - great for motorcycling; but, all things must past, and it wasn't long before I found myself in search for a campground.

Fortunately, success was easily achieved, and it wasn't long before I was setting up camp in the Naples KOA.

From Key West to Homestead and the Start for Naples

With a late start out of Key West, I thought that it would be a push to get out of the "Keys" and back around to the Homestead area before dark. As it turned out, it wasn't even close. It was already dark by the time I made the windy crossing over the "Seven Mile Bridge" to Marathon Key (from this point Homestead was still a distant 100 miles).

The night was cool (for the Keys), but it wasn't raining, so I continued on and eventually arrived in Homestead around 8:00 PM.

Why the fascination with Homestead anyway? In passing through, on the way to Key West, I stayed in a motel in Homestead that was both clean and affordable, at little more than the cost of campsite (which I had yet to find.) My plan was to find that same motel once again.

Having found my motel and gotten a good nights rest I was ready to get back on the road - almost. After attending the laundry it was finally time to loaded up and set a course the area of Naples and Marco Island. By this time I had crossed the Everglades twice (via Highway 98 on the northern route and US41 on the southern route) now it was time to take the central route of I75 - the famous Alligator Alley.

According to Map Quest it should have taken a little more than an hour to get to I75, leaving me with plenty of time to get to Naples before dark. I didn't follow the Map Quest route, however, and by the time I got to I75 there wasn't sufficient to make it to Naples before dark. Now the only reasonable thing to do was find a motel or campground (fat chance on the latter).

At the gas station where I stopped to inquiring about a campground, they advised me - "to go to Homestead!"

There had to be a better way. It is surprising to find how hard it can be find a motel when your unfamiliar with area. It is also surprising to find that everyone you talk also seems to be, "unfamiliar with the area.

My search finally ended a few miles south of I75, but at least I did eventually find a motel.

On to Key West

The gate keeper at the campground had advised me, "The showers are cold - but FREE." I'm here to tell you that they were indeed cold! Even at the southern tip of Florida, the cold shower was a chilling wake-up.

People had told me that there nothing to see in Flamingo and that assessment is pretty accurate - as far it goes.

There are no permanent residents in the unincorporated village of Flamingo.

Not only were all permanent residents were relocated prior to the formation of Everglades National Park in 1947, but, in addition, the entire area (including the marina and the historic Flamingo Lodge) was destroyed by hurricane Wilma in 2005.

Today, the marina has been rebuilt; and it, together with the interpretive center and campground, comprises the "village" of Flamingo.

In spite of the above facts, the 38 miles from Florida City to Flamingo is the only highway within the boundary of the Everglades National Park. If you truly want the see the beauty of the Everglades, don't forego this excursion.

In my opinion, the road to Flamingo takes you through the real Everglades, where the "River of Grass" makes its clearest statement; and so, even though there may, in fact, be little to see in Flamingo itself, the trip is well worth the effort.

___________________________________________

It was after 2:00 P.M. before I departed on the on the 3 1/2 hour trip to Key West. My hope was to arrive in time to catch a view of the sun setting over the Gulf of Mexico, but it wasn't to be. Arriving at the city limits of Key West, there was nothing that could be done; I watched over the handlebars, as the sun disappeared below the horizon (as it turned out this would be the last time I would see the sun during my time in Key West).

There was still plenty of day left and after locating a campground on the edge of the city it was time to explore Key West's famous nightlife. Duval Street is the center of it all, and I was quite

surprised to find biker parking on street. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, I parked my bike and walked unencumbered.

The streets were filled week-end revelers, and for the first time I found myself wanting for a drinking companion, but I knew, with my bike still parked nearby "bar-hopping" would not be a part of my evening agenda.

Even so, I drifted into a few of the "finer" drinking establishments, ordered a club soda and listened to the sounds. It was still early evening and I couldn't see myself spending the entire night wandering aimlessly from bar-to-bar drinking club sodas and listening to music - no matter how great the sounds might be.

The next morning I broke campsite and returned back to the inner city to explore Fort Zachary Taylor and the Key West boardwalk.

Construction of Fort Taylor began in 1850 as a part of the southeast coastal defense system. At the start of the civil war the Union quickly secured the fort as means blocking Confederate supply shipments. It remained in control of the Union for the entire the Civil War.

Fort Taylor continued to serve the US's interests throughout the Spanish American War, World War I, World War II and for a brief period during the Cuban missal crisis.

At the time of my visit the fort was hosting the Fort Taylor Pirate Fest, and annual event much enjoyed by the local "pirates."

Following my brief visit to Fort Taylor, I strolled down to catch a glimpse of the famous Key West's Boardwalk.

On the way to the boardwalk, I was treated to the street show of a sidewalk musician. Always entertaining these street musicians and entertainers, are in my mind a vastly unappreciated American Treasure.

Aside from doing my own (unintentional) boardwalk version of the "Wedding Crashers," my stroll was short and uneventful.