Day 9: Palm trees, white sand and surf

8 May 2011
Our destination for today was the Canaveral National Seashore to do some camping. Again, we felt that we had seen a good portion of Georgia so we decided to head to Jacksonville on the highway. Entering into Florida, it was almost immediately clear that we were in a different area. We didn’t even need the “Welcome to Florida” sign to tip us off! Palm trees started to become more prominent, and we did actually stop at the first rest stop which was quite beautifully kept.





Earlier in the day, at the motel, we met a nice couple who were there with a couple of their Harley’s. They saw our bikes and were wondering about our trip. After telling them the day’s route they recommended another one and told us about which exit to take off 95 and which subsequent roads to use to get to Florida A1A. Apparently the woman not only used to be a trucker, but also lived on the route she was sending us. I sure am glad that she let us know about that because it was fantastic. Granted, at first A1A was very commercial, but it was still a tropical change of scenery with palm trees lining the streets. Also at first, we could see very little of the beach. Private property lined the beach and made that impossible. After a while the commercial strip turned into less busy, a tree canopied, two lane road with gorgeous houses on either side. The road once again changed with the elimination of the tree canopies and houses that were almost as varied and unique as fingerprints.



This whole new feel for an environment was quite refreshing. While there were subtle changes going down the east coast, it was largely the same. Florida was very different, in a nice way. On just about every bridge we took, I couldn’t help but keep my eyes OFF the road and on the wonderfully blue waters. Yes, not very safe but I couldn’t help it.

Along the way, we ended up stumbling on a place called St. Augustine FL. Upon first impressions it did seem touristy. From what I could gather it was a historic port for the Brits and the Spaniards, as well as having some pirate history. Despite being touristy, it wasn’t overly tacky and was beautiful. The funny thing was that it was around lunchtime and right before we came into the town I mentioned to Mike that I saw a few restaurants on my GPS just up ahead and we should stop. After seeing the town, stop we did. While attempting to enter a bank to use an ATM, we encountered some chick that appeared to be stoned out of her gourd just sitting on the bank steps. She advised us that the bank was closed but their ATM was a block away. While walking that block we passed a small bar with two blokes drinking beers outside. One, in his best Cheech voice, said “The artists, they like suffer for their sh@t man.” Maybe marijuana is prominent in this town, I don’t know.





For lunch we decided to eat outdoors at an Irish/seafood restaurant. They had a locally caught Mahi Mahi sandwich that seemed like a good idea, and boy was it. Everything seemed quite fresh for starters, from the tomato to the fish. The tartar sauce on the side had some red specs in it that made it delicious; cumin perhaps? Lastly, the fries were just the right ratio of batter to potato while also, being nicely seasoned with pepper and garlic.



A delicious lunch was had and it was back to the coastal roads. We finally got to more beaches that weren’t lined with private property so that we could actually see them and head down onto them. The water was gorgeous by the way. I really wanted to take my boots off, roll up my pants and wade in. Sensibility took hold though as I realized I wouldn’t be able to de-sand my feet properly before putting the boots back on.







The closer we got to Daytona Beach, the more commercial and seemingly rundown everything got. In fact, riding through Daytona Beach, I was not impressed. It seemed to be nothing more than disheveled hotels and tacky stores. I don’t think that it would have helped if it was bike week down there at the time. I’m all set with seeing fat shirtless guys hooting and hollering at old women with a smokers cough and leathery skin who want to flaunt what they don’t have any more. This new found distaste for the coastal route had us hop on the highway for just a short bit to get to our bed-down location for the night.

After driving quite a long distance down a dead-end road to get to the Canaveral National Seashore, we found out from the park ranger at the gate that their primitive campsites require a boat to get to. They previously had some canoes, but they were all used up. We had to find a new camping spot. A county run campground called Manatee Hammock was in Titusville about an hour away and close to the Kennedy Space Center. The campsite was a little more money than we wanted to spend, but it was beautiful. It was so close to the Kennedy Space Center in fact that while we ate our modest camp meal, we could see the space shuttle staging building across the bay. Just about the only downside to the campsite was that our neighbors were a bit noisy. A comfortable hammock solves that. Of course, seeing a forecasted low of 66 degrees, I was cocky after surviving 30 degree camping. I decided I didn’t need a sleeping bag. Cut to the middle of the night and I was out of the hammock digging my sleeping bag out of its stuff sack. I wasn’t miserable like in Tennessee, but it was so much nicer in the sleeping bag.